#AND I have a small load of wet laundry I pulled from the washer before scooping out as much water as I could

[oneforthemunny]

take care |modern!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: after a long day at work, you just wanted to relax. eddie makes sure you can.

contains: our fav modern!eddie and his lil mean girl. language, mentions of weed, oral fem receiving, p in v sex, aftercare and fluff, minors dni 18+

You could feel your fists clench, knuckles tight and whitening when you shoved your key in the door, agitation eating you from the inside out.

Today had been a particularly horrible day to work retail. Spring always meant prom season, which meant whiny teenagers spilled in with their bossy mothers, demanding shades of foundation for the spray tan they didn’t have yet, slamming them on the counter furiously when it inevitably didn’t match- because you were supposed to be mind reader. But you couldn’t say that to them, couldn’t snap at them the way you wanted to, only taking deep breath in, giving a dazzling customer service smile, and apologizing for your mistake.

The knots in your neck were agonizing from straining all day, feet aching from the little black boots you wore, a sweat breaking out on your neckline. All you wanted to do was go home, drown yourself in the cheap bottle of wine you had in the fridge, and sink into a bubble bath until your skin pruned away entirely. But you knew you wouldn’t get to do that.

When you’d got off, you sat in your car, scrolling through messages, your lips pressing further together into a tight line. There sat the string of TikTok notifications from Eddie on your screen, constant and too many for you to look at. It wasn’t the videos that pissed you off, it was the fact that he had sent them all day. All day, and you knew- you just knew he hadn’t done anything you asked him to do.

You’d left him that morning, sweet kisses pressed to his cheek, fingers trailing down his tummy, still soft and warm from sleep. “I started a load of laundry, can you just switch it over to the dryer please?” You asked softly.

Eddie nodded, pulling you back in for one last kiss before you left, still propped up in the bed. You’d slipped out, going to work. When you returned, you were greeted by Eddie on the couch, blunt rolling smoke in the tray beside him, hunched over with his headset on, screaming into the mic and eyes trained on his PlayStation. He’d muttered a greeting, tongue out in focus playing some fantasy type game, eyes never leaving the screen.

You could feel your shoulders tense, jaw setting when you slammed the door behind you. You didn’t take off your shoes, didn’t set down your purse, stomping straight down the hall towards the small closet where your washer and dryer sat. You lifted the lid, the mildewish, soured smell of wet towels filling your nose.

The bubble of calmness you’d kept all day popped, exploding in hot rage out of you. You dropped your purse, reaching in to grab one of the still soaking wet towel, heavy and wet on your hands.

You marched in front of Eddie, blocking his view, fuming with the towel in your hand. “Baby, one sec, I’m almost-“ Eddie stopped, eyes trained on the towel.

He flicked up the mic to his headset just in time for you ball up the towel, throwing it so it thudded against his chest. You jammed your finger in the button of the PlayStation, powering it off furiously. Eddie grimaced slightly, slipping the headset off.

“I asked you to do one goddam thing!” You screamed, throwing your hands out.

“Baby, I forgot-“

“-You always forget, Eddie!” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. His eyes rounded slightly, pleading and sorry. You snarled, shaking your head and stomping towards your room.

You plopped on your bed, angrily ripping your shoes off. It was a constant fight since he’d moved in. Towels left on the bathroom floor, not putting down the toilet seat, forgetting to start the dishwasher, putting the coffee cups up too high.

You bristled with anger, jaw grinding and huffing. All you’d asked him to do was one thing. One. You didn’t give a shit that he stayed on your couch, that he played his game all day, only leaving to get food or do a deal. You didn’t care, really. But what you did care about was when he disrespected your space; you. You’d had this fight already, about him helping you around the apartment- your apartment.

You tried to be understanding, it was clear he wasn’t doing it maliciously. He didn’t have a good home life, and his uncle raised him the best he could, but Wayne was too busy working to make sure their lights stayed on to worry about if Eddie’s room was clean. As long as Eddie was clean, he didn’t care. That was clear when you’d gone into his room once, staying at the trailer one night only, scared by the ecosystem growing under his bed.

But on days like today, days when your nerves were shot and the last thing you wanted was to deal with things like that, it infuriated you. There were no clean towels for a bath, so your afternoon plans to soak were destroyed, which made you fume all over again.

You could hear Eddie starting the laundry, the small trill of the chimes on the machine starting. You rolled your eyes, pulling your shirt off, balling it up and tossing it in the hamper.

The door’s hinges squeaked softly, Eddie’s footsteps soft and muffled against the carpet. You ignored him, pushing down your black jeans into a puddle on the ground.

“Baby, ’m sorry.” Eddie whispered softly from behind you. You felt his fingers ghost over your hips, trailing over the silky material of your panties.

You huffed, wiggling out of his grasp. “Don’t.” You snapped. “I had a really shitty day and all I wanted was to take a bath. I’m disgusting and-and… just don’t touch me right now.” You hissed, holding your hand up.

Eddie nodded, eyes trained on your chest, watching you unclasp your bra, breasts falling free. He swallowed hard, putting his hands in front of his sweatpants. “I’m so sorry, baby. I forgot, really.” He cooed sweetly, taking a step towards you.

You rummaged through your drawers, pulling out a big tshirt, soft with wear, and a pair of fresh underwear. Eddie took another step forward. “Did you have a bad day?”

You huffed, slamming the drawers. “Yeah, I did.” You snapped. “And this didn’t make it any better. I got bitched at all fucking day, and I just wanted to come home and relax.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie sighed sympathetically. “I’ll go run to Target and get you a towel if you want me to. You can get in the bath and I’ll be right back.”

“No,” You huffed, pushing your underwear down. His eyes widened slightly. “I just- I want you to do shit when I ask you to.”

“I know,” Eddie nodded, stepping towards you again. “I know, I’m sorry, baby, I swear I didn’t mean to. I just- I forgot honestly.” He hesitated, reaching out to touch you, slow and soft. You were bare in front of him, arms crossed over your chest, glaring angrily at him but you didn’t push him away.

He pulled you close, your crossed arms in his chest, chin resting on your shoulder, pressing sweet kisses into your cheek. His hands rubbed up and down your back, slow little circles that had you relaxing slightly, melting further into his chest.

“I’m sorry you had a bad day, sweetheart.” Eddie muttered into your cheek. You huffed, pouty and breathy into his chest. “Let me take care of you.” His hands trailed down your spine, squeezing the fat of your ass.

You whined, pulling back. “I’m gross, Ed, no.” You protested lightly, his hands still kneading your cheeks. “I’ve worked all day. I’m sweaty and gross.”

“You’re not gross.” Eddie muttered, nose nuzzling into your hair line, breathing in your scent deeply. “C’mon, let me help you relax, baby. ‘S least I can do. Make it up to you.”

You hesitated, the kisses he was trailing down your neck were making you relax enough already. You whimpered when he sucked lightly into the nape of your neck, his hands still grabbing your ass.

“C’mon, lay down, baby, I got you.” Eddie coaxed gently.

You melted into the mattress, letting him lay on top of you, hips rolling and grinding into you. You blamed the sweatpants, they were your weakness. You could always see his dick outlined in them, so casual and innocent. You were always dropping to your knees when he wore them.

Eddie wedged his body between your legs, sliding down the mattress, trailing kisses between your breasts, down your sternum, towards your core until his shoulders had your thighs spread wide around him. He could feel the heat off your pussy, radiating and warming the tip of his nose before he ever touched you. His hands ran up your torso, smoothing over the skin of your tummy, squeezing your breasts before sliding back down your waist, pressing wet kisses to the inside of your thighs, over your mound, teasing.

“Stop,” you whined, high pitched and nasally,  wiggling your hips towards his face. Your brows creased, pouting when you looked down at him.

He grinned softly, hand pulling your thighs apart further, tongue running over his bottom lip before he licked you, slow from your hole to your clit, swirling around the sensitive nub. Eddie moaned loud, enough to have vibrations sending shockwaves to your bundle of nerves making you arch.

“You taste so good, baby, fuck.” Eddie rasped, licking another long stripe, eyes closing and fingers digging into your thigh.

You whimpered, hands threading through his curls. You loved that he kept his hair long. He looked so different from all the other guys, wild curls that always seemed to have your hands in them, playing with the ringlets sweetly. You loved when he'd let you style it, load it with products and diffuse it, or put a mask in it in the bath, clipping it up sweetly while you soaked. Eddie loved it too, he loved that you loved it, loved that you'd scratch his scalp and coo at him, so sweet and giggly.

You were a whirlwind, an enigma of personality. Sweet and sour, he called you his little 'sour patch kid' and while he always played it off like he was joking, you both knew deep down he was being serious. He knew you were just high strung, wound a little tight, and the snapping and snarky comments were a defense, a default when you felt out of control. He knew you could be sweet, knew you were sweet, you were so sweet to him.

You whined, wiggling your hips closer and closer to him, sighing heavy when he sucked at your clit. “That feels good…” You mumbled, hips jumping towards his mouth.

Eddie grinned, another long lick to your slit that had you reeling. “Mmm, I’m glad.” He kept his lips against your core when he said it, he knew you liked it like that. He knew you liked the vibrations, how they’d tickle your clit and make you clench. He didn’t even have to use his fingers, could have you coming undone with his tongue alone.

You whimpered, feeling his hand press against your lower tummy, thighs tightening when he ran a soft hand up and down your belly to your chest, rolling your nipples just barely in his hands. “Feels so good, Eddie, fuck.” You whined. “Oh! Right there! Do it just like that, please!”

Eddie repeated the action, fingers pressed in a ‘v’ over your puffed lips, exposing and revealing your throbbing clit to him, sucking the bud at a pace that had you seeing stars. You cried, hands fisting in his hair to bring him closer and closer, his nose was pressed against your mound, inhaling your scent deeply, lapping away until you gushed hard around him. His eyes fluttered up to yours, licking you through your orgasm while you bucked and writhed, his arms locked around your waist to keep you still. He loved watching you come undone for him, get you in that hazy headspace that always had you needy and clingy afterwards.

“That good?” Eddie asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand when he moved up.

You nodded, chest heaving slightly. “Very good.” You looked at him with glassy eyes, smiling slightly. The blush on your cheeks was enough for him to know you meant it. He was always wanting to please you, especially after you were upset with him.

He shoved his sweatpants down, kicking them off until they pooled at the end of the bed. You could feel his erection between the two of you, rutting his hips into yours, whining slightly at the friction.

“You wanna be like this? Or you wanna be on your stomach?” Eddie asked, his nose touching yours. You could feel his curls around your face, making you giggle at the tickling feeling. It made your heart swell slightly, any feels of irritation disappearing with every soft kiss of his pillowy lips on yours.

"This is fine," You sighed contently, eyes shutting when he pressed his lips to your neck. "Wanna see you." You muttered.

Eddie fucked you slow, your legs wrapped around his waist, fingers intertwined with his. He grunted lowly in your ear, reveling in the little whines and gasps you'd let sneak out sweetly, muffled into his neck.

You'd curled up beside him, he'd used his boxers to clean you up before dropping them back into the floor, your head on his chest, his hands stroking your hair softly. You could feel your eyes droop, heavy with the stress of the day. Eddie put on New Girl for you, he knew you liked to watch it when you were falling asleep.

When you awoke, the screen on the TV with the Netflix logo, asking if you were still watching. You could hear Eddie in the living room, the soft glow of the kitchen light down the hallway. You felt heavy, warm, a little disoriented with the nap. Your phone on the bedside table read eight-twenty-two.

Eddie looked up when you walked in, pausing his game and pushing the headset off his curls. "Hi, baby," He greeted with a small smile. "Did you sleep ok?"

You nodded, stretching and rubbing your eyes. You started for the closet with the washer and dryer. "I already dried them." Eddie said proudly. "I put them up too, so you can take a bath now if you want."

Your heart swelled, smiling with a soft, sleepy smile. You walked over to him, straddling his lap, still warm and soft. Eddie's hands rubbed down your back, grabbing on your hips gently. "Thank you." You whispered, pressing your lips to his sweetly.

"No problem, baby." Eddie hummed, a soft smile on his lips. "'M sorry I didn't do it earlier."

"That's alright." You muttered, sitting down in his lap. Your legs on either side of his, arms around his neck, head tucked under his chin. His hand found your back, rubbing small circles down your back, sneaking under the fabric of the shirt- his shirt.

"I'm sorry you had a bad day." Eddie pressed small kisses to your hair line.

"'S alright." You pouted, huffing slowly against his chest. "I hate prom."

Eddie laughed softly, chest vibrating with laughter. "Yeah? I wasn't a fan of it either."

You craned your neck to look up at him. "Who did you go to prom with?"

Eddie scratched his neck. "Uh, my first senior year, I went with this emo, alt chick. Her name was Haley." He grinned slightly and you frowned. "Then my last senior year, I just went with the guys. Only went for a little bit, then hit the after parties to sell." You scoffed slightly, and he smiled down at you. "What about you?"

"I went my sophomore year with this guy names Parker. He was a friend and he needed a date, so we went, talked shit the whole night it was fun. Then I went my junior year twice, because the guy I was with at the time went to a different school. Then senior year I went with the same guy but just to mine, because he had graduated." You explained.

Eddie snorted. "Seems like you loved prom if you ask me."

"Hated it. My mom made me go." You wrinkled your nose. "I looked so different too. Weird when I look back."

"Bet you were still hot." Eddie grinned. You scoffed loudly. "What? I bet you were. What's that Drake song... high school pics you were even bad then?"

You laughed, cringing slightly while you covered your blush. "Eddie, oh my god, that- you're so lame." You giggled, shaking your head.

"What? It's a good song. I thought you'd love that song." Eddie jested, poking your side sweetly. "Gotta be nice for what? That's practically written about you."

"I'm very nice." You pouted playfully, eyes narrowing at him.

He grinned. "You are." He said sweetly, pressing his lips to yours, hands cradling around your jaw. You really were.

[telomirage]

hahaha haha ha I think I have to replace it 💀 and I didn't get many details but it sounds like there was water damage for my downstairs neighbor 🥲

I think this is the least horrifying my washing machine has ever sounded

[dangerous-disposition]

71. Roger/Charlie

So, Roger and Charlie are OCs and this little fic is set somewhere in the same universe as here i have found some peace of mind. Some of y'all might recognize Charlie a little bit from i could be honest because he was Tig's boyfriend in that!!

Roger belongs to @stobinesque, Charlie belongs to me. Thank you so much Read for letting me play with your OC and also for shipping him so much with Charlie like I doooooooooo 😭

Tagging: @theheadlessphilosopher @scarcrossdlvrs @starryeyedjanai @sentient-trash @patchworkgargoyle @steddieas-shegoes @vecnuthy

Anyway, to the ficlet!!!

It was a slow, almost lazy Sunday morning, the “almost” accounting for the fact that Roger was doing chores. Technically. He was doing laundry, which involved a lot of sitting and waiting to change the loads over, so he didn’t count that in the same realm of chores like mopping or vacuuming.

Over on the couch, Charlie was sitting cross-legged with an acoustic guitar in his lap, plucking out a few chords and frowning as he started from the top again. When he did a little motion with his mouth that made his moustache twitch, Roger couldn’t help the soft snort of laughter that gusted through his nose. When he looked back over at Charlie, the young man was smiling at him questioningly, eyes wide and guileless. Waving him off with another chuckle, Roger went back to folding his laundry.

As the gentle sounds of Charlie’s guitar filled the room again, Roger picked up one of his sleep shirts that was still inside-out. With a grumble, he started to flip it right-side-out when his finger went through a hole, bringing a frown to Roger’s face.

See, none of his loungewear was particularly new, but it was all still in decent condition. Worn, but not worn-out. It was also just a weird spot for a hole to develop; high on the right side of the chest, just in front of the armpit and shoulder. It was also a fairly tiny hole, which meant it likely wasn’t caused by either the washer or the dryer.

Shaking his head, he folded the shirt and picked up the next one just to discover a nearly identical hole; on the right side, high on the chest, just before the armpit and shoulder. His puzzled frown deepening, he started pulling out every one of his t-shirts and discovered the same hole in various sizes.

Lifting his gaze to Charlie, a question about how those holes could’ve been caused poised on the tip of his tongue. He froze, however, as he watched Charlie lift a silicon pendant he wore around his neck to his mouth and started to chew on it thoughtfully, returning to strumming his guitar thoughtfully.

It was one of Charlie’s habits, a self-soothing technique he said he’d had since childhood, one that led to him biting and chewing on most things. The biggest thing for him to suck and chew on was fabric, especially while he slept. For the most part, it was limited to his own shirts and the blankets he had assured Roger, his face lighting up with one of the prettiest blushes he’d ever had the pleasure of witnessing for himself.

Charlie was embarrassed of the habit, but Roger found it endearing, especially when he would wake up to find his shirt caught between Charlie’s teeth. It was something he found so adorable, he would pretend to be asleep just a bit longer, so Charlie had enough time to wake up and get himself sorted. Roger knew if he ever commented on it, Charlie would somehow try to stop, and while yes it was a little uncomfortable to wake up with a wet spot on his shirt, the knowledge that Charlie felt safe enough to do that more than made up for any discomfort.

And now there was evidence of it. There was something that was, on the surface, so small and insignificant, and yet it was so big. It was something that Roger only had because Charlie existed. Those little holes in his shirts were there because Charlie existed and loved him, because Charlie felt safe in Roger’s arms as he slept and subconsciously felt accepted enough to self-soothe the way he needed. The love Roger felt for the young man was overwhelming and terrifying most of the time, but in that moment, it felt so right and so perfect, and he desperately needed Charlie to know.

Dropping the shirt back into the basket, Roger rounded the island and stood above Charlie, cupping the younger man’s jaw in both hands to tip his face upward.

Charlie stared up at Roger, dark eyes bright and engaged, his smile gentle and adoring, even as he held the stim toy between his teeth. Reaching up, Charlie sucked the toy discreetly with minimal noise before pulling it out of his mouth to grin up at Roger properly.

“Hey,” he said brightly, letting his eyes flutter closed as he nuzzled a cheek into the palm holding it.

Roger was gone on this man, and for once he wasn’t afraid of that.

“God,” Roger started, his thumbs stroking Charlie’s stubbled cheeks. “I love you.”

Charlie’s eyes widened with a soft gasp, his perfect, pretty mouth falling open with his stunned happiness. This wasn’t the first time Roger said it— he actually said it back almost every time Charlie said those words nowadays, which Roger thought was a huge deal. He went nearly forty years not even feeling this way for another person, let alone saying those words and meaning them like he did. And he knew Charlie was perfectly content, even if Roger never said it first, and he would’ve been happy even if Roger never said it back at all.

But Roger wanted to meet Charlie where he was, even just for this small moment in time together.

“I love you,” Roger repeated, this time bending to kiss Charlie’s parted lips, sweet and chaste. Lowering one hand, he grabbed the neck of the guitar and gently removed it from Charlie’s lap to put it back on its stand nearby.

“I love you, too,” Charlie gasped against Roger’s lips, both hands lifting to rest on his chest. “Love you so much, mi amado.”

[f1nalboys]

ridiculously horny request, reader who does the sinclair's chores doing some laundry and being overheard/interrupted by vincent while masturbating with the vibrations from the clunky old washing machine and one of his sweaters while moaning his name, maybe actual sex ensues but i will leave that to you.

haven't been able to not think about this req since i got it LMFAO it didn't delve into actual sex but it hints at it, i hope that's alright!! but i hope you love this >:)))

Vincent Sinclair x GN!AFAB!Reader

WORD COUNT: 1521

WARNINGS: nsfw, masturbation vid washing machine, masturbation (afab), voyeurism, vincent watches while reader masturbates, implication of more sex, not proofread

The washing machine was a piece of junk. It barely fucking worked and when it did, it made the most awful sound and clunked aorund, practically shaking the house off the damn foundation. You’ve given up on asking Bo to fix it; he’s made it very clear that he ‘doesn’t give a damn about the shittin’ machine, it’s still workin’ aint it?” Prick. You sigh, shoving another load into the rusted machine, slamming it closed and hitting your hip into the door just to make sure it was really closed.

“Piece of fucking junk,” You mutter under your breath as you start the machine up, waiting for it to start up. The sound of it starting the cycle has you flinching at the grinding sound. You start to unload the dryer of the clothing, a mix of Bo and Vincent’s attire, into the laundry basket when your mind starts to wander.

The washing machine was shaking violently, your feet vibrating from the close proximity on the floor. Glancing around the small room and peeking your head into the hallway, you double check that you were alone. You didn’t want to be interrupted during this. Kicking off your shoes and pulling your shorts down you lift yourself onto the washing machine carefully, perching on the edge, before jumping back off and grabbing one of Vincent’s sweaters from the laundry pile.

Even after going through the washer and dryer, his smell still clung to it as if it were etched into the fabric. You hold it to your nose and breathe in deeply, sighing. Vincent had always been apart of your fantasies and now that you had some of his clothing you could really bring your imagination to fruition. Hopping back up onto the machine you settle back, clutching his sweater close to your face.

“Fuck,” You moan as the vibrations shoot through you. You can feel your underwear beginning to grow wet and you sigh, your body relaxing almost immediately. You’ve been so fucking stressed lately, barely having time to sleep let alone pleasure yourself and both Vincent and Bo up your ass 24/7 you had no alone time. But Bo was busy in the garage fixing up an old victim's car to sell and Vincent was in the basement doing whatever it is he does when there isn’t a person to encase.

Swallowing back a moan, your eyes flutter shut and you begin to rock your hips in time with the machine, apply pressure against your clit from the cold steel with each forward thrust. You could feel yourself getting closer, it’s been too damn long since you’ve been able to do something like this.

A sharp knock at the door has your eyes popping open and gasping, your body still. Vincent stood in the doorway, his mask off and a clear smirk on his face. “Jesus! Vincent, what the fuck?! How… How long have you been standing there?” You ask, feeling your face heat up from embarrassment and you scoot off of the machine, grabbing your shorts.

“Look at me.” Vincent’s voice was hoarse and sharp and it had you standing straight and looking at him, giving him your full attention. Your shorts were still clasped in your hands and your heart was beating a mile a fucking minute. He starts to sign, slowly, his eyes narrowed. “I was there long enough to know you were close. Don’t let me stop you.”

You scoff though the anger didn’t quite reach it. “M’not- Fuck sake, Vincent. I mean, God, that’s so… you can’t just…”

“You’re the one getting off on the washing machine holding my sweater, not me.” His smile grew slightly at your shocked gasp. “Why don’t you get back up there and finish? I know you’ve been dying too lately, could practically smell the want coming from you and clearly you were thinking about me while you were doing it..”

“What, so you want me to just… get back to it after you leave?”

Vincent shakes his head and steps inside the room, closing the door behind him. The laundry room is small and if you take a step forward you’d be chest to chest with him. “No. I want to watch.” You scoff; what an asshole move to fuck with you like that. He snaps, grabbing your attention again, and his face is set in stone. “I’m serious.”

“Why? Why do you even… when did you…?” Words were failing you. You’ve had a crush on Vincent for god knows how long and you weren’t sure when he figured it out. Maybe you hadn’t been as secretive as you had thought you were, or perhaps Bo had said something to him. That’s definitely something the asshole would do.

“I’ll answer your questions after you finish. Please?”

“...Fine. I swear to god if you’re fucking with me…”

You drop your shorts again and shuffle back to the washing machine and sit yourself back on top of it. You were silently thankful you had decided to do a longer cycle this time. Biting back another moan, you settle back, much stiffer than you had been before and Vincent sighs, leaning back against the door, his arms folded over his chest.

“Relax. You’re too stiff, you’ll never finish like that.” You roll your eyes at the advice but ultimately, you know he’s right. You’re not sure if your heart is beating so fast from embarrassment of being caught or arousal from being watched. That’s something to figure out later.

Closing your eyes you take a deep breath and force your muscles to relax one by one. “Mmm…” You sigh as the pleasure begins to build in your stomach again, the vibrations building in intensity with each passing second. “Vincent- '' Your eyes snap open; you did not mean to moan his name. If you were by yourself, maybe you would have let the name slip by without thinking about it, but in front of him? How many times would you fuck up tonight?

“Say it again.” His hands are moving quickly now and the second he’s done talking to you his hands drop down to his crotch and you watch with wide eyes as he palms himself over his jeans.

You can’t even think of the amount of times you’ve thought about this exact scenario before but fuck, there was no way you were going to miss the sight in front of you. “V… Vincent, shit.” The words flow easily from you now. This wasn’t a cruel prank set up by one of the twins. This was happening, really fucking happening, and it was almost too much for you. “God, feels so good. M’so close already, fuck.”

Vincent unzips his jeans and pulls down his pants and underwear just enough to expose his cock for you. His shirt had risen up, exposing the line of hair that grew thicker and darker as it went down his stomach. His cock was half hard and he started to stroke himself to the sight of you, legs spread on the washing machine, showing off your fully soaked underwear for him.

You start to rock your hips again as the coil in your stomach returns 10 times stronger now and you’re starting to have trouble breathing. “F-fuck! Fuck, I’m gonna cum, Vince. Please, please, god I’m-” You cum, your toes curling and thighs shaking. Vincent’s breathing had picked up, filling the room along with your moans and the shake of the washing machine. You nearly fall off the machine when the vibrations become too much, your knees weak.

Grabbing a hold of the steel, you spare a glance at Vincent. His hand was still on his cock but he had stopped stroking himself. His hands leave his length and he stares at you, signing. “Go to my room. I need to taste you.” He didn’t need to tell you twice and you snatch your shorts up off of the floor and you walk past him, ‘accidentally’ brushing your hand across his cock as you open the door, only to come face to face with Bo.

He had a scowl on his face and it only grew when he realized you were half naked and Vincent was inside the room as well, shoving himself back into his pants. “You can’t just do the laundry without sexin’ the damn place up? Keep that shit to your bedroom, Vince, or else I’m makin’ you two deep clean the fuckin’ place. Is my laundry done?”

“Yeah…”

“Christ, took long enough. Both of yous get the hell outta there so I can get some clothes ‘fore I take a shower. And try to keep it down, I got a headache and I really don’t wanna hear you two fuckin’.” You give him a curt nod and practically sprint down the hallway to Vincent’s room. Bo stops Vincent and claps him on the back with a grin. “Finally got the balls to talk to ��em, aye?”

Vincent flips Bo off and shuffles off after you, his thoughts drifting to how you’d taste on his tongue and how you’d feel around his cock.

[breanime]

They Have to Have You Now (With Bonus Boy)

warning: steamy, slight voyeurism (?)

Billy Russo: Billy couldn’t wait another second to have you. Wordlessly, he grabbed you, pulling you to him as his lips met yours in a fierce, breathtaking kiss. Your hands pressed against his chest, and you could feel his hammering heartbeat underneath your palms. He was still wearing his stealth suit, fresh off of a mission, but all he could think about on the helicopter ride back to Anvil was getting his hands on you. He had moved through the halls like a panther, not stopping to talk to anyone or even to change. He had a new mission--finding you, touching you, and burying himself inside of you. Billy didn’t say a word as he undressed you, his lips nibbling and sucking on the flesh of your neck as his hands roamed your curves. You sighed, your eyes fluttering shut as his long fingers entered you, prepping you for him. “Next time,” he growled, his mouth warm against your neck, “you come with me...” “Aw,” you cooed, combing your fingers through his dark hair, “you missed me.” “I missed this,” he smirked, pulling back just as he curled three fingers inside of you, making you gasp out in pleasure. Your hands slid up to his shoulders, gripping them as he fingered you, the sounds of your moans and the wetness between your legs filling the small room. “Billy,” you gasped out, head thrown back in ecstasy, “We--I--the door!” Billy paused, pulling his head up and looking over at the door, “Yeah? What about it?” “Did you lock it?” You asked. He smirked, slowly pulling his fingers out of you. Billy pressed them to your lips, watching with those dark, expressive eyes as you obediently sucked them into your mouth. He waited until he felt your tongue swirling around his digits to answer you. “I’m the boss,” he said, his free hand going to unbuckle his belt as he spoke, his voice low and confident “I don’t lock doors. I’m gonna fuck you right here in this storage room, and if someone walks in... We’ll give ‘em a show.”

Logan Delos: In a matter of seconds, Logan had reduced your entire, extensive vocabulary down to two words: Logan and yes. You were positioned face-first against the floor length window, hands slapped against the glass and breasts pressed against the cool glass, your entire naked body exposed for all to see. All they had to do was look up. Granted, you and Logan were on the penthouse floor of the suite, but still. Logan was behind you, pounding into you, wearing nothing but a black cowboy hat. He reached around you and grabbed your chin, turning your head to face him. His lips met yours in a bruising kiss, his hips slamming upwards as he pulled away. “I can’t believe you,” he huffed, a smirk on his perfect face, “Bought you all the way out here, and we didn’t even make it past the fucking train tour.” “That... that wasn’t my fault,” you gasped back, biting your lip as Logan’s dick hit that spot that had your legs shaking, “You’re the one who said we had to go.” “Yeah,” he agreed, taking a handful of hair and pulling, making your head fall back, “because you looked so goddamn good...” He moved against you, once again making it impossible for you to say anything but his name and “yes, yes, yes”. You came hard; quivering as you reached your climax. Logan didn’t even give you a second to relax; he was relentless. He pounded into you, his hips smacking into your ass so hard, you wondered if you two were going to accidentally break the glass. “Baby, look,” Logan hissed, his lips against your ear, “We got an audience.” Still shaking with pleasure, you opened your eyes, blearily blinking until you could focus again. Across the street, there was another suite, and all the way from here, you could see the woman standing in her window with her hand up her dress. Logan chuckled, his hand moving to take hold of your leg, lifting it and pushing deeper into you, making you scream with delight. “Let’s see who gets off first... you, me...or our friend over there.” 

Jax Teller: You weren’t entirely sure what had gotten into Jax, but you for damn sure were grateful for it. He’d been on the road for the past three days on a run with Opie, Juice, Tig, and Clay, and he’d gotten back in town sometime early in the morning. But, of course, they had church and then some kind of sketchy meeting with another MC, so you figured you wouldn’t be able to see or speak to your man until later that night. But then he surprised you by stomping into the house hours earlier than you’d expected him. You were in the laundry room; you’d just started a load when Jax came in, greeted you with a “I need to be inside of you”, picked you up, and plopped you down on top of the vibrating washer. He was inside of you in record time, kissing you as he moved against you. Sex with Jax was always enjoyable, no question, but being fucked while the washing machine vibrated beneath you, enhancing each thrust and every motion of his hips--it was enough to make you scream. And scream you did. “Yeah, darling,” he grinned, his hands on your hips, rings digging into your flesh as he held you close, “Go ahead and cum for me...” And you did, cumming within seconds of him entering you, your head falling against his shoulder. Jax didn’t slow down or let up, he plowed into you, that thick, long dick of his hitting you right in that spot that had you seeing stars. You scratched as his back, and Jax chuckled, kissing your chin. The gesture was soft, contradicting the punishing pace his hips were setting, and you moaned against him. “Been missing you like crazy,” he grumbled, picking you up and spinning you around, slamming you down with against the washer with careful control before pushing into you again, “Had to skip out of the meeting to get to you...” You turned your head, your cheek resting against the cool steel, a smile growing on your face. From the feel of his hips and the way he was moving without any sign of slowing down, you had a long day ahead of you... and you couldn’t be more excited. 

Coco Cruz: As soon as you had walked into the apartment, heart pounding with worry and suspicion, you knew something was up. You could see water seeping from the back room, but before you could so much as ask a single question, Coco was on you. His lips slammed into yours, pushing you against the wall. He was rough, but gentle, as always, placing his hand behind your head to make sure you didn’t smack it on the wall as he bit your lip, leaving a stinging sensation that he soothed with his tongue. “Tell me you love me, no matter what,” he whispered, his hands pulling at your clothes, getting them out of his way, “Tell me you’re with me, no matter how bad I fuck up.” Your fingers found their way into his hair, massaging his scalp, getting lost in the thick curls. “I’m with you,” you said, your lips moving against his, even as you spoke, “I love you, Coco, no matter what.” He grunted, apparently pleased with your response. “I fucking love you,” he said, his voice somehow growly and broken all at once. You wrapped your legs around his waist, whispering his name lovingly as he entered you. He needed you; you could feel it. Coco fucked you up against the wall, his moans and your sighs filling the hallway. Your eyes were squeezed shut, stuck in a whirlwind of passion and love and concern. You knew your Coco sometimes needed to work out his frustrations, and while you were more than happy to help, you were still a bit worried about whatever was bothering him. As he fucked you, you made sure to whisper your love for him into his ear, kissing the shell of it as you told him over and over again how much you adored him. “No matter what,” you added, moaning the words out as Coco’s dick slid between your thighs, his pre-cum and your arousal already starting to drip down your leg, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” You came at the same time, you with a sigh and him with a shout. Carefully, Coco slid out of you, his cum thick and warm as it ran down your leg. “Baby... what’s wrong?” You asked. He paused, kissing your cheek before whispering in your ear, “So... Something... Something happened...” You pulled back, frowning. It took you only a moment and a handful of steps to see what he meant by “something”. “Jesus Christ, Coco! You fucked me fifteen feet from your mom’s corpse?!” “Shit, is that fucked up? My bad!”

Angel Reyes: “Scrapyard,” Angel growled, already leading you that way, “Now.” You followed him, biting back a grin. He’d been eyeing you all day as you helped set up the clubhouse for a party, no matter who he was talking to or what he was supposed to be focusing on, his eyes always seemed to land on you. And when you’d given him a show while wiping down the tables (how that soapy water got down your shirt, you’d never know), you saw the spark in his eyes. He wanted you, and Angel wasn’t going to waste a single second--he was taking you. Now. The scrapyard was open, but empty, and so when Angel turned around, grabbing you and pulling you to him, you knew there was no one around to see... yet. “I got alcohol and bandages in the club,” he said between kisses, “so after,” he smoked, “I’ll fix you up. But for now...get on your knees.” You did so happily, falling to your knees, the ache in your legs nothing but a small price to pay for what was coming next. You watched, licking your lips greedily, as Angel unbuckled his pants. His thick cock was already hard, and he grabbed onto it, stroking it for you. “Open your mouth,” he ordered, his eyes staring down at you. You did, sticking your tongue out, and you took in a sharp breath when he skid his dick into your waiting mouth. You closed your lips around him, gathering saliva and sucking on him, making him moan. Angel’s large hand fell onto your head, a heavy token of his appreciation for your efforts. You held onto his upper thighs, bobbing your head back and forth on his cock. There was drool dribbling down your chin, and Angel was moaning like crazy, your name coming off of his lips as you sucked him down. There was gravel and dirt in your knees already, but all you could focus on was the taste of Angel and the sounds of his pleasure. His fingers twitched on your head, curling around a lock of your hair--a sure sign of what was next. Angel came with a grunt, sighing as he felt you swallow him down. “We got a few minutes till the party starts. Stand up, it’s my turn to taste you, mi dulce.”

Miguel Galindo: Whenever Miguel was working late, so would you. Often, you’d wake up at your desk or on the couch surrounded by papers, slogging your way back upstairs to bed to be met by Miguel hours later. You were currently on the couch, fast asleep, when you felt a soft, warm caress on your face. You smiled in your sleep, recognizing Miguel’s touch even while you were unconscious. You heard him above you, his voice deep and low, “Come to bed, mi amor.” You hummed, holding the jacket you’d used as a makeshift blanket closer to you. Miguel chuckled, and you felt his lips, warm and soft on your cheek. “I’ve missed you,” his hand had been on your face, but you felt it slowly move down, “come to bed...” You hummed again as you felt his hands, those hands you adored and knew so well, run down your thigh. “No? Fine,” his lips were on your neck now, soft and warm as he spoke against your throat, “Have it your way...” That made you giggle; no matter what the situation--it was always Miguel’s way, not yours. Your giggle soon turned into a moan when you felt Miguel’s fingers slip inside of you. “Mm... already wet,” he mused, “Were you dreaming of me, mi amor?” You nodded, eyes still closed. He kissed your collarbone, “So you’ve missed me too,” he chuckled, “Open your legs.” You did, and Miguel rewarded you with three fingers, curling inside of you and tickling your clit. You sighed, biting your lip. Miguel’s other hand went under your shirt, gently pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “More?” He asked. You nodded. His fingers disappeared for a moment, and you sat up, eyes open now, pouting. Miguel was hovering over you now, his dark eyes staring down at you. He pushed into you, the action rough and exhilarating, making you gasp at the stretch of him. Your eyes closed again, and you wrapped your arms around him, letting him fuck you until both of you were spent, his cum blooming inside of you as you pulsated and shook around him. Time seemed to slow, and when you opened your eyes again, you were tucked into his side in bed. You smiled, cuddling closer to him, and wondered how he would wake you in the morning. 

Nick Amaro: “We don’t have long,” Nick said, undoing his tie, “I swear, I’ll make this up to you, babe--” “It’s fine,” you stood on your tiptoes and kissed him, “I know you need this.” He stopped, his hands on your waist, “I need you,” he clarified, “And I want to go slow and give you all the attention you deserve, but...” “But we only have enough time,” you said, kissing your way down his jawline, “To fuck. So come on, Detective... Fuck me.” Nick didn’t need to hear anything more; in seconds, he had his pants around his ankles and his dick between your thighs. You held onto him, your nails digging into his forearms as he fucked you. His thrusts were rough and fast, and you felt him getting deeper and deeper with each motion. “Harder,” you gasped out, your toes curling. Nick obliged you eagerly, pushing into you with such force, your legs started to shake. Sensing that you were getting overstimulated, Nick carefully lowered you to the ground. Fucking him in your office was one of your favorite new past times, and no matter how needy or rough Nick was, he always made sure that you knew--from his touch, his words, his kiss--he loved you. He was on top of you, the weight of him the only thing anchoring you, keeping you tethered to the world while he brought you to unknown heights of pleasure and ecstasy, the two of you connected by the heart and by the hips, nothing in the world but you and Nick. You came first, and Nick showered you with loving words, kissing you as you shook around him. “There you go,” he cooed, “My love...” He pulled out of you, and you squirmed at the loss. “...Come wrap your pretty lips around this dick.” 

Johnny Tuturro: “Shh, shh, shh,” Johnny whispered, his supple lips caressing your ear as he spoke, his dick sliding between your wetness, “if Charlie hears us, we’re dead.” You nodded, burying your face in the cushions of the couch. “If anyone hears us,” he went on, casual as he fucked you, “We’re gonna be stuck on chore duty for the next,” he paused, shifting his hips and pushing deeper into you, making you whine at the absolute delicious stretch of him, “the next three weeks,” he continued, his body was draped over yours, and you could feel him--every sinewy, muscular inch of him--hovering over you. “So be quiet, baby girl,” he went on, rotating his hips above you, “no guns downstairs, and no fucking either.” You bit your lip, nodding. It was hard to listen, to think, with the way he was moving against you--inside of you. Johnny was completely naked--he’d just come back from surfing, and as soon as he had walked into the room and seen you...he just had to have you. “Fuck,” he hissed, licking at your ear, “How are you always so fucking tight? So perfect?” He asked. You couldn’t answer; all you could do was whine as Johnny pushed into you again, making you shift upwards on the couch. There was nothing like Johnny inside of you, nothing like his long, hard dick pressing into your most sensitive parts. As badly as he needed you, as desperate as he was for you, you were equally needy, equally desperate. Hell, you couldn’t even be bothered to take a second to walk (or run) up a handful of stairs; you needed Johnny then and there--there was no time to waste. “Johnny,” you groaned, “baby, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!” He didn’t, his hips slamming into your ass with a renewed rigor until you were both cumming, both of you calling out the others’ name. “Oh fuck,” Johnny said on a laugh, still inside of you as his seed pumped into your waiting wetness, “Now I won’t be able to sit here without thinking of fucking you...we might need to make this a weekly thing.”

Rio: “I don’t give a damn if you try,” Rio said into the phone, “You gotta win, bitch. And you gotta pay me my money--and right quick, too.” You felt yourself clench at his words; you loved getting to hear him do business, loved the power and control in his voice. You loved it even more when he was fucking you while working. Rio had one hand on his phone, and the other on your neck as he fucked you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Matter of fact,” he went on, pumping inside of you and squeezing your throat affectionately, “You’re gonna pay me extra. Because that’s what happens when you make me wait.” You swore, as talented a lover as Rio was, it was his words that were making you so wet. “Consider it incentive for next time,” he continued, “You miss a payment cause of Little League or book club or whatever other white suburban shit you got goin’ on, you pay me for the lost time.” Rio grinned down at you, seeing the excitement on your face. He leaned down and kissed you filthily, his tongue snaking into your mouth, lapping against yours before pulling back, the phone still at his ear. “Which reminds me, gon’ ahead and bring me the keys to that slick black ‘Vette I saw the other night, I think my girl will like it,” he grinned down at you, and that grin had your heart flipping in your chest. His hand flexed on your throat, and that, coupled with his thrusts and the way he was handling business at the moment, had you nearly sobbing with desire. “I don’t need your bullshit ass excuses, Elizabeth,” he went on, his thumb trailing upwards, tapping your bottom lip gently until you opened your mouth, sucking it in, “I need my money, plus the extra, plus that black Corvette. Otherwise, you can take another pay cut, and I’ll make a visit to your husband’s place of work--again,” Rio paused, a smirk growing on his kissable lips, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” His smugness did it for you; you came then, whimpering as your orgasm ran through you. Rio fucked you through it, still on the phone. By the time your orgasm subsided and you came back to reality, the phone was gone, and he was grinning down at you. “Good news, baby,” he reported brightly, still moving inside of you, “We got an extra 20 grand, a new car, and I still got another round in me,” he leaned down and captured your lips in a kiss, speaking lowly, his words going directly into your mouth, “and since you were such a good girl, I’ma make you cum again, and again, and again...”

Bonus Boy

Tommy Shelby: “Get out,” Tommy barked, swaggering into the room with nothing but authority coloring his steps, “Esme, close up on your way out. Yeah, you too, Finn, fuck off.” You stood, money still in your hands, as Tommy approached you. He wasn’t talking to you, you knew it. You knew it from the second he walked into the betting shop, his thunderous blue eyes searching for you. You knew what he wanted, what he needed. You watched as everyone scurried out, the sounds of feet hitting the floor and doors slamming filling the space. You watched as Tommy walked up to you, your handsome man in his dusty black coat and his blood soaked hands. You watched as he stripped his coat off, tossing it to the side, his hands already reaching out for you, eager for you. Desperate for you. You let him come, and Tommy grabbed you, his touch possessive and rough and gentle and confident and unsure all in one. He kissed you, tasting of mint and smoke, and you grabbed at his collar, keeping him close. Tommy wasted no time, his hands moved expertly, pulling your skirt up and pushing your undergarments aside until the only thing that separated him from you was time. And time was fleeting. You both groaned when he first slid inside of you; there had been no prep, but your body adjusted to him quickly. His mouth moved against yours as he fucked you, his hands keeping you close to him--as if there was any other place you’d rather be. “Never leave me,” he whispered, and his words broke your heart. “I won’t,” you promised, and you meant it. He pushed you back against the desk, his movements firm but his eyes soft as he looked down at you. Tommy was a patient man, a calculating man, but with you--he could never bring himself to wait, never consider the pros and cons, the consequences. He just needed you--needed you like he needed air, like a horse needed freedom. You were his everything. And even though he couldn’t always find the words to say it, he could show it. And he did. As Tommy held you, his mouth on your face, his heart in your hands, he knew that this need, this desperation would never ebb. He belonged to you...and he always would. 

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[mercy-burning]

Laundry Day

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader and Spencer meet again in the laundry room and decide to have some fun. PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 / EPILOGUE Category: Smut 18+ (oral sex- male and female receiving, unprotected penetrative sex, slight exhibitionism?/potential of getting caught, slight degradation) Warnings: sex, language. (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings. I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 3k

Note: Surprise!! I was going to wait to post this on Saturday but Taylor Swift had me feeling like dropping a surprise, what can I say? 😂 Anyway, I wasn’t going to make another part to Pretty Please, but for one thing, it did way better than I was expecting, so thank you all for your kind comments and tags! And also, @rainsong01 mentioned something that gave me an idea for a laundry room scenario, so you can thank them for this one! I had so much fun writing this and I hope you like it! Thanks for all the love! 🥰

***

Y/N hated laundry day.

There was nothing more boring to her than loading clothes into the washer, waiting, then loading them into the dryer, waiting, and then folding them and putting them away, not to mention the laundry room was kind of dingy and felt like being in a gross, scary basement.

Thankfully though, years of living in the same building had given Y/N a pretty decent schedule of when the laundry room was empty. It wasn't like she disliked talking to people, but laundry made her cranky enough, and the last thing she wanted was human interaction, making small talk with building residents that acted like they cared to know about everyone else's business.

So it was Friday night, 7 pm, which meant that depending on if she had to work, the only other person in the laundry room would be Olivia from down the hall, someone Y/N had only had a few conversations with, either in the laundry room or on the way out the door.

She walked in, silently thanking the laundry gods after hearing complete and utter silence as she made her way to the washer and dryer to the far left of the room. Then she reached into her pocket and realized she forgot her phone. Cursing, she settled on basking in the silence as she loaded her clothes in the washer one by one, at least grateful that no one would be bothering her with pointless small talk.

Until she heard the door open, as if the laundry gods decided they were angry at her. She tried not to outwardly groan, hoping that whoever it was would just say, "Hello," and leave it at that. Or better yet, not say anything at all and let her do her own thing. So she closed the washer and entered the quarters, knowing that it would be a long ten minutes. She could have went back upstairs to her apartment and waited there if she really wanted to, or grabbed her phone at least, but it felt like it would have been pointless, and so she just hoped it wouldn't be awkward.

Maybe I'll just go walk around the building aimlessly for 10 minutes.

But the laundry gods had other plans, apparently.

"Y/N?"

She turned around and saw none other than Spencer Reid, clutching a large cloth bag, presumably filled with laundry.

"Spencer? Hi," Y/N greeted, a small blush forming on her cheeks. The two of them hadn't really talked since their... escapade about a month ago. Most of the time Spencer was at work, but whenever he was home there hadn't been anymore thin wall scenarios or overhearing something she shouldn't. They'd seen each other in the hallway a few times, winking as they passed, but that was it. Y/N had to wonder if maybe it was just a once-in-a-lifetime thing, being absolutely fucked into oblivion by your neighbor so good that you couldn't walk for two days.

Thinking about it made her cheeks burn hotter, so she cleared her throat and only slightly avoided eye contact. "I thought you did your laundry on Sundays?"

Spencer shrugged, walking over to the machine set next to hers. "Normally I would, but I just got back from work and I needed clean clothes. It's... pretty empty in here right now."

"Oh. Yeah, that's why I do my laundry on Friday nights whenever I can. Everyone's either out or staying in relaxing. Laundry's already boring enough, right, who needs annoying small talk?"

He laughed, opening the washer and putting in some of his clothes. "Touché."

Y/N wasn't really sure what to say after that, so she sat on top of the washer and crossed her legs, swinging them a little as she waited.

"Look, I know you've already given your stance on annoying small talk, but... What are your plans for the weekend?" Spencer asked, and she turned her head to meet his gaze, immediately feeling butterflies in her stomach.

"Um... Not a lot, really. Other than some grocery shopping and a few other small errands, I was going to have dinner with my mom on Sunday for her birthday. We might have to cancel though because she might have to go into work, but we'll see... What about you?"

He shook his head. "I don't have anything planned unless I get called into work either."

"Oh... Well, if you ever feel like having some company, you know where I live," she joked.

Spencer laughed. "I might just have to take you up on that. Things at work have been kind of... stressful."

Despite her better judgement, she smirked. "I seem to recall a similar conversation between the two of us not that long ago, Bud. You're not trying to fuck me again, are you?"

She just couldn't help herself. Admittedly she was a little worried she was too forward, but in the end it paid off, because he turned to look at her, shutting the washer and grabbing quarters from his pocket. "Would it be so wrong of me if I wanted to?"

The low tone of his voice made Y/N clench her legs tighter together, her mind racing with all the things that could happen in the next few days, the next few minutes even... She thought back to the last time he'd fucked her, seeing his face between her legs as he completely unraveled her. She felt herself growing wet at the thought.

"Absolutely not," she finally managed to respond. She hoped he would come over to her in a few long strides, pulling her in and kissing her right there, but instead he simply said, "Hmm," and turned back to his machine, putting in quarters.

He could have been playing games with her again, but she didn't want to take the chance. So she grew bolder and leaned back on her hands, puffing out her chest to the air and tilting her head to the side, letting her hair fall and exposing her neck to him. "Well, we have some time to spare, babe. What do you say we make the most of it?"

She was genuinely surprised to see him blush and freeze in his tracks, fumbling with the last few quarters as he inserted them into the machine and started the timer. "R-right now?"

"Duh," she replied, giggling.

"Somebody could come in... O-or hear us." A twinge of worry dripped from every syllable as he spoke, and though Y/N's first instinct was to apologize for suggesting it and letting it go, she thought better of it after remembering what got them into this situation in the first place.

So she scoffed. "Oh, please. You weren't the least bit worried about someone hearing us before. Y'know... When you promised to fuck me so hard I would scream your name and everyone could hear, and then I did? And besides, even if someone walked in right now, they'd probably just leave and come back later. People probably have sex with each other in here all the time."

"I doubt that, this place is filthy. Hardly the right setting for something so... intimate," he replied more clearly, obviously trying to win this argument. Though, something told Y/N he really was a little bothered about how dirty the laundry room was.

She shook her head. "You and I both know that what we did wasn't intimate. It was downright filthy, so if anything it works perfectly for where we are."

"Y/N, I don't know..." He chewed on his bottom lip and shuffled on his feet, refusing to look at her.

"Well, I'm not gonna force you to do anything you don't want to do, obviously, but... You can trust me. I've been doing my laundry here basically every Friday night since I moved here, and since Olivia is working tonight, she won't be here, and neither will anyone else."

"Well, I showed up, didn't I? Anything could happen."

She sighed, a little tired of arguing but still wanting to win. Her body tingled and practically ached at the sight of him, needing to feel his touch yet again. Maybe it was slightly pathetic, but if there was just the slightest chance that he would fuck her like that again, she had to try her damnedest.

So she had another trick up her sleeve, silently praying to the laundry gods that they would take pity on her and grant her this one thing. "You're right, but don't you think that you coming down here just moments after me was bound to happen? Like after everything we've experienced, we were always meant to have a quickie in the laundry room of our apartment building?"

He genuinely seemed to think about it for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. "Truthfully I think it's more of a coincidence than anything that we showed up here at the same time."

There's your chance, Y/N, don't fuck it up, she thought to herself, hoping that with the seductive tone in her voice and the puppy dog look in her eye, it would be enough to get her what she wanted. "I was joking. Of course it's a coincidence, I just want you to fuck me."

He only stayed silent, fiddling with his hands and his eyes flicking between her and the floor before he caught her eye. In another attempt to entice him, Y/N batted her eyes and slowly spread her legs wide, scooting back a little so she could rest her heels on the top of the washer. "Don't you want to fuck me into the washing machine, baby?"

That was the last straw, the thing that pushed Spencer over the edge. He whispered, "Fuck it," to himself before striding over to her and cradling her face in his hands, bringing her to him and kissing her hard. She initially yelped at how harsh he was, but after a second she melted into him, leaning forward and bringing him closer.

She tried to wrap her legs around his torso, but he grabbed them by the ankles and kept them spread open, pulling away to look into her eyes. "Keep 'em open, pretty girl." The old nickname made her whimper, just like he knew it would, and his gaze burned into hers hotly for a few seconds before he bent down, kissing her inner thigh just below the hem of her shorts. She sighed as he trailed his lips and tongue along every inch of skin, switching to the other leg and giving it the same attention until he was ready for more.

Rather than pulling off her shorts and underwear, Spencer simply pushed the fabrics aside and immediately licked a long, flat strip up her pussy, to which Y/N sharply inhaled and reached out, grabbing his hair. He explored her just as thoroughly as he had the last time, his fervor unmatched and absolutely intoxicating as he pushed himself closer and closer, practically living between her legs. Due to the short time constraint and fear of getting caught, he didn't waste time teasing her, and he seemed determined to finish before the buzzing of the washer signaled clean clothes.

Naturally though, he couldn't not tease her, so just as she was about to finish with his lips wrapped around her clit, he pulled away and left her breathless and frustrated.

"Really? We're doing this again?" she huffed, pouting.

Spencer unbuckled his belt and raised his eyebrow. "All in due time, sweetheart. Come here."

Unsurprisingly, she did what she was told, jumping off the washer and waiting further instructions. It didn't take long for Spencer to move, only a few seconds passing by before he turned her around and pushed her against the washer, to which she instinctively bent her torso over it. She gripped the sides of it tightly as he ran his hands up her shirt and caressed her back, eventually using one hand to grip her waist and the other to lift her leg up, setting it on the washer. She readjusted, reaching her hands forward to grip the top of it as he slid his hand down her leg and toyed with the fabric of her shorts.

"Listen carefully," he said, causing Y/N's heart to pound harder in her chest. "I'm clean. Are you?"

"Yes," she stated simply, loud and clear, though adding a hint of desperation as to hopefully speed the process along. She knew this communication was important, but damn if she didn't just want to be railed into next week already.

"Birth control?"

She swallowed nervously, hoping it wouldn't change his mind. "I'm not on it."

"Noted," is all he said, before deftly moving her shorts and underwear to the side and slamming into her with no warning. She yelped, leaning her head back as he pounded into her, the cold metal of the washing machine digging into her skin. It was the best kind of painful pleasure, only made better when he gripped her hair into a makeshift ponytail and yanked her to him, deepening his angle inside of her and hitting that sweet spot every time.

"Spencer, I'm..." She could barely breathe, and she loved it, already feeling herself start to unravel.

"Close already, pretty girl?" he purred in her ear, right before pressing a wet kiss to her neck as he craned her head to the side for better access. "Figures... You've always been so easy to please. Such a good, needy little slut for me, huh?"

Y/N groaned at the new name, and it spurred him forward, encouraging him to push them both further into the washing machine as he moved his hips harder. "Please," she gasped, only seconds away from losing herself.

"Tell me what you want," he growled in her ear.

She squeezed her eyes shut and spoke as clearly as she could, not caring how loud she was being. "I wanna cum! Please, Spencer, please!"

"Do it," he grunted, giving her a few more deep, purposeful thrusts to aid in her high. "I got you, pretty girl." That's what did it for her. She yelled out as her body tensed and her walls fluttered around him, everything absolutely burning and blinding until eventually she was spent.

Spencer held himself inside of her for a few seconds, bringing himself closer to the edge before he roughly pulled out and away, leaving Y/N empty and alone. She was tired as hell and completely fucked out, but still she wanted more than anything to help him, ever the needy little slut, as he'd so eloquently called her. So she turned around, peeling herself away from the washing machine and dropping to her knees in front of him, not waiting for him to say anything.

She promptly leaned forward and wrapped her mouth around his cock, wasting no time hollowing her cheeks and setting a fast pace sucking him off. It had somewhat taken him by surprise, but he welcomed it, gathering her hair away from her face and watching as she went to work, practically worshipping the ground he stood on. Eventually she pushed herself all the way forward, allowing him to hit the back of her throat. Instead of pulling back to breathe, she held herself there and gagged, looking up at him with tears in her eyes before removing herself, taking two deep breaths, and going right back to work.

"Look at you," he mused, his voice barely there but with enough volume that allowed Y/N to hear him. "You look so good, pathetic and choking on my cock. Such a good fucking girl, fuck—"

In no time he was gripping her hair tighter and his breathing started to falter. Y/N held herself still as he came in her mouth, most of it hitting the back of her throat and all of it coating her tongue. She moaned around him, blinking tears away and running her hands over his ass until he pulled away from her and let go of her hair.

Standing up, Y/N swallowed most of his cum but purposely let some of it spill out of her mouth and down her chin, to which she used her middle finger to scoop it up and slide it back into her mouth. She kept eye contact with him the whole time, watching as his tongue flicked over his bottom lip before he bit it softly.

Once she was done cleaning herself up, Y/N ran a hand through her hair and smiled. "See, that wasn't bad at all. No trouble."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure the only trouble is you. Eavesdropping, making me fuck you in a semi-public place, et cetera..." He laughed as he pulled his pants up and re-adjusted himself as though nothing had happened.

"Don't act like you don't like it," Y/N teased, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing a deep kiss to his lips. He laughed against them, pulling her closer by her waist and resting his hands there when she pulled away.

As if to signal the end of their... whatever they were going to call it, Y/N's washer buzzed and she turned around to attend to her laundry. As she transferred the clothes from the washer to the dryer, Spencer came up behind her and brushed the hair away from her neck.

"You know, I wasn't trying to be mean or anything when I... called you a slut. I would never want to be mean to you or anything, and I'm sorry if that made you uncomfortable."

Y/N almost laughed, amused again by how dominant he was during sex but then immediately a big 'ol softie once it was over. It was such a fun contrast, and truthfully, as much as she loved his dominant side, she wanted to see more of his softer one. So she turned around to meet him and caressed his cheek, smiling kindly. "I know you don't mean it to be mean. It was hot. And I appreciate you checking up on me, it's sweet. You're sweet."

Before he could say anything, his washer buzzed. So he settled on leaning forward, kissing her cheek, and walking away to do his laundry.

The two of them worked in silence for a while, just enjoying each other's company until they realized they both had to wait for the dryer. 20 minutes.

"Round two?" he asked her with a mischievous grin.

Y/N returned it and took a step towards him when the door opened, laundry gods be damned.

"Oh, hey guys!" Olivia from down the hall chirped as she walked in, striding to her own station.

At least they had the rest of the weekend.

[flightlessangelwings]

Always the Laundry

Marcus Moreno x gn!reader (no pronouns, no y/n)

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: Fluff, protective!Marcus, kissing, heated making out, shirtless, Marcus being the best boyfriend, Missy being the best kid

Notes: Written for @autumnleaves1991-blog​ Writer Wednesday. I saw the photo and immediately thought Laundry Day Series! This works as part of the series, but can also be read on its own. I need to get back into writing more of this series cause I really do miss it and I have a few more parts planned out, so look forward to that coming soon and enjoy this for now! Graphic made by me.

~

It was a quiet afternoon at Heroics Headquarters and Marcus slumped down onto his desk with a heavy sigh. The morning had started with a threat of an emergency, but after Marcus sent a team to investigate, it turned out to be nothing. After the rush of adrenaline wore off, the Heroics leader found his thoughts drifted over to you. He wondered what you were up to this afternoon, and when he would see you next.

The two of you hadn’t been dating long, only a couple months, but Marcus felt a deep connection and attraction to you that he hadn’t felt since his late wife. You both agreed to take things slow, which worked best for both of you, but Marcus quickly found that he had deeper feelings even after a short time. He forced himself to hold back, however, and wait until you were ready to take the next step in your relationship. He would wait, though, as long as you needed.

Just as a smile flashed across his face at the thought of you, Marcus’ phone rang. His grin grew wider when it was your name on the screen, and he welcomed the distraction from the quiet of headquarters today, “Hey baby,” Marcus answered with a pep in his tone.

On the other end of the line, you breathed heavily and your voice was shaky, “Marcus?”

He immediately went on alert and stood up when he heard the panic in your voice, “What’s wrong? Are you ok?”

You rambled incoherently for a minute before you spoke more clearly, “I’m sorry to call you at work, but I didn’t know what else to do…”

“Are you at home? Where are you?” Marcus cut you off before you could continue.

“Yeah…” you sounded so scared as you whispered into the phone.

“Stay there, I’ll be right over,” he couldn’t hide the way his voice wavered as a rush of fear ran through him. 

Without hesitation, Marcus gathered his things and his weapons and bolted out the door. As he jumped into his car, every possible scenario ran through his head as he thought the worst. What happened to scare you like that? Had someone figured out your connection to him and found you? Did they have you cornered in your house, trapped? Were you hurt? What if he couldn’t get to you in time?

Marcus made it to your place in record time and with his sword in his hand, he barreled through the door as he called out your name. But, instead of a disaster situation like he expected, your place was quiet. There didn’t seem to be any hint of break in or anything disastrous. He made his way into your place as he called your name again, “Baby?”

“In here Marcus,” you finally called back from the far end of your home.

The laundry room, Marcus thought as he quickly moved over to meet you. What he found, however, was not what he expected.

You looked flustered and overwhelmed, and your clothes were soaked. You were surrounded by piles of laundry all over the place as your washing machine shook and spewed water and soap everywhere. At least an inch of water flooded your small laundry room, and it took Marcus a moment to register that his feet were now wet as well. 

But, your face immediately softened when you saw your boyfriend in the doorway, “Marcus…” you breathed in relief and his shoulders finally dropped, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do and I was freaking out,” you gestured to the mess around you as he moved to be next to you.

“It’s alright,” he spoke in a soft, calming tone as he put his hand on your shoulder.

“This stupid machine,” you cursed, “It’s always spazzing out on me, but it’s never been this bad before,” you vented for another minute before you finally turned and met Marcus’ gaze. When you did, all the air left your lungs, “Marcus?”

“You scared me,” he admitted as those deep brown eyes looked into your own, “I thought something happened,” he squeezed your shoulder tighter before he pulled you in and wrapped his arms around you.

You let out a deep breath as you nuzzled yourself into his strong, comforting embrace, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” you sighed again as you tried to make a joke to comfort him the way his embrace comforted you, “I mean technically something did happen…”

Marcus hugged you tighter as he kissed the top of your head before he let out a soft chuckle, “Always the laundry with you, huh?” The two of you broke out into laughter as you both fondly thought back to the day you met at the laundromat. Marcus pepped light kisses all over you until he finally felt you were safe and pulled away to meet your eyes again, “I’ll help you clean this up and then we can go over to my place so you can finish your laundry.” He thought it best to take care of the immediate problem for now, and he could worry about your washer later.

Your eyes lit up as you clung to his sleeve, “Thank you, Marcus,” this time it was your turn to place a soft kiss to his lips.

“You never need to thank me, baby,” he replied as he smiled into the kiss. 

He wasted no time in helping you unplug the washing machine so that it stopped spewing water and together the two of you cleaned up the water that collected in the little room. Then, Marcus gathered all your laundry and carried it to his car for you and took you over to his house. Even though you insisted you could carry some of it, Marcus didn’t allow it. He genuinely enjoyed taking care of you and wanted to do anything he could for you, no matter how small.

“Your clothes are soaked too, babe,” he said with a grin after he put the first load into his washing machine.

Heat rushed to your face as you realized what he insinuated. You had gone on several dates over the past couple months, and the two of you made out like a couple of horny teenagers every time you saw each other, but things never went further than that at this point. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, you wanted him more than anything, but you both agreed to take things slow for both of your comforts.

Just as Marcus was about to apologize for his comment, you grabbed at your shirt and slid it up off your body and stood before him more bare than you ever had before. Marcus’ mouth dropped open in awe as he just stared at you with wide eyes. His reaction just made you more flustered, but in a good way this time. 

Before you could say anything, Marcus closed the distance between your bodies and kissed you passionately. He took the shirt from your hand and tossed it to the floor before his arms wrapped around your waist. Marcus quickly deepened the kiss as he lifted you up and sat you on top of his washing machine. Momentarily shocked by the movement, you moaned into his mouth, which only encouraged him more. 

While you stayed locked in his kiss, your own hands roamed around his chest and tugged at his shirt. Wordlessly, you asked permission for him to take it off as well. And Marcus was more than happy to comply. He broke away from you for just a brief moment as he slipped his shirt off before he was right back on you.

Heat rose in the room as you and Marcus lost yourselves in each other. The kiss felt more intense than any before while your hands roamed all over each other’s bodies. You had never felt that much of his bare skin before, and you quickly found yourself craving more. And Marcus absolutely felt the same about you. No words were spoken, none were needed, just the sounds of your lips against each other and soft moans from both of you filled the space. Marcus pressed his chest against yours enough so that you felt how hard his heart pounded in his chest, and you knew yours beat just as fast.

But, you two were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. You both broke away and were met with Missy in the doorway, her arms crossed as a playful, knowing smirk on her face.

“Missy!” Marcus scrambled and grabbed his shirt off the floor and used it to cover your body, “What are you doing home?”

“Because I live here,” she tried to play stern but she couldn’t help but laugh at the predicament she found when she walked in the door, “And school is done for the day.” Thankfully, it wasn’t Marcus’ turn for the carpool this week and a classmate’s mom brought Missy home.

At the same time, both you and Marcus tried to explain the situation with overlapping chatter. Missy couldn’t help but burst into laughter as she felt like the adult who just caught two teenagers making out, “Ok, ok, you don’t need to explain,” she threw her hands up in surrender as he turned to walk away, “Just lock the door next time, and keep track of the time! Geez!”

You and Marcus stood dumbfounded as she walked away. The two of you were stunned to silence for several long moments before you locked eyes again and erupted into laughter. Marcus reached out for a towel so you could better cover yourself for now and placed one last kiss to your lips as he did so, “She likes you,” he whispered.

Your eyes went wide, “Really?” you breathed in a hopeful tone.

“Really,” he confirmed with a wink, “And so do I,” Marcus cupped the side of your face.

You could have cried from the overwhelming emotions of just those few words, but you held yourself together. You placed a tender kiss on Marcus' nose as you spoke so softly, “I like you both too.” In that moment, both you and Marcus were grateful for your very faulty washing machine. 

[levis-little-nuggie]

How the brothers would react to catching f!MC riding a suction-cupped dildo on the communal HOL washing machine

I didn't think through how much I hate this idea, but I fuckin ran with it so here we are and I'm not apologizing. However the title is still a work in progress. I am accepting ideas.

This first one is Lucifer's reaction.

Warnings: little bit of blood (in a sexy way), he calls MC some vulgar names >:( but he apologizes so I guess it's okay, fem!MC because I was feeling self-indulgent.

Rating: explicit 😌

Word count (so far): 2,628

Carrying the weight of the hamper on her hip, MC closed the laundry room for behind her and padded over to the oversized washing machine. It was laundry day for her and living in a mansion with seven demon brothers didn't make this any easier. Their keen sense of smell had her on edge about keeping certain articles of clothing cleaner, washing them more frequently than when she lived in the human world.

She threw in her load of pajamas, towels, and underwear, including the pair she had been currently wearing, leaving her in an oversized shirt she'd "borrowed" from Beel. MC mixed in the detergent and fabric softener, and started the cycle. As the hot water started pouring into the bin, MC double-checked that the door was closed before pulling out the suction-cup dildo she'd hidden in the laundry bin and stuck it to the top of the washer. MC nudged the step stool closer to the machine, applied a generous amount of lube to the toy, clambered on top of the washer, and positioned herself over the dildo.

Thanks to previous instances in the laundry room, MC was fully aware of both the machine's durability to hold her weight comfortably, and its vigorous shaking when loads were unbalanced. Asmo had winked at her when she came running to him for help for taming the large appliance. "You could say, with a bit of creativity, it'd be the next best thing to sitting on my face, hon."

He'd been right. Unfortunately, this also meant that Asmo knew what laundry day meant to MC and she already felt mortified sharing this dirty secret with Asmo so MC tried her best to schedule her trip to the laundry room for whenever he wasn't home. Luckily enough, it seemed the rest of the brothers were completely unaware of her sinful indulgence and this activity quickly became addicting.

Having already been wet from the excitement, MC's fingers slid into her, pumping and scissoring to stretch herself open. She pressed the tip of the toy against her opening, biting her lip to stifle the noises she wanted to make as her fingers moved to circle over her clit, squeezing her eyes shut as her hips lowered onto the toy. Taking a few moments to breathe from the size of the dildo filling her up, MC maneuvered her legs to shift from her kneeling position sitting on the machine, toy fully sheathed inside, her ass against the lid, and legs hanging over the top.

Her hands trembled from both the excitement and the warmth that stirred in her lower abdomen as she reached for her phone; the machine would be still for awhile as the clothes soaked, but MC loved to fantasize she was cock-warming any one of the brothers until they both gave in and he fucked her mercilessly.

Lazily circling her hips to feel the toy move around inside her, MC mindlessly nibbled on her thumb while flicking thru Devilgram. Scrolling down the feed, she stopped to watch a video Mammon had posted, the audio flowing through the DDD's speakers a teaser for an upcoming song he was releasing. Turning up the volume on her device, MC let the video repeat as she felt herself getting hyped for the track to release. After double-tapping to like the post and leaving an energetic comment, MC opened the music app on her DDD and shuffled the playlist she made of the brothers' songs to stream while she opened a game on her phone to complete the daily task while waiting for the washer cycle to start.

The above set-up will be the same for all the brothers. Below this point will be Lucifer's reaction.

Another prank from the Lucifer You S*ck team left the eldest with some ruffled feathers and an ever-growing coffee stain on his RAD uniform. A vein pulsed on his forehead as he sauntered to the laundry room.

What he wasn't expecting, however, was to hear MC singing along to Satan's song behind the laundry room door. The eldest brother hesitated, his grip tightening on the doorknob as he debated waiting for her laundry to finish but found his brows furrowing as she stopped singing, the machine started its spin cycle, and the faintest of moans floated through the door.

"What in Diavolo's name-" Lucifer opened the door to investigate but halted as he took in the scene before him. MC's eyes had widened, staring directly at Lucifer in a way that perfectly explained the human idiom "like a deer stuck in the headlights." Her mouth was agape but quickly snapped shut as she tried to stifle her panting, legs crossing themselves in an attempt to look innocent, but her white-knuckle grip on the edge of the washer had him feeling alarmed.

"MC, what's going on? Are you feeling unwell?" The machine had started rocking as it began its spin cycle, but Lucifer couldn't figure out why MC was sitting on top of the washer. Was she feeling ill? Her forehead had a sheen of sweat, did she have a fever? Lucifer dropped his clean uniform and crossed the room so he was directly infront of MC, reaching out to feel her heated face, completely disregarding her feeble attempts to assure him she was fine.

'Lucifer! I'm fine, just doing some laundry' was what she wanted to say. However, with the machine rocking, the dildo was rubbing right up against her g-spot and she was fighting the urge to grind her hips. She managed to sound out the first half of his name, but the way his gorgeous, ruby eyes looked into hers with concern, his facial features that were carved by God himself, and a single thrust against that spot had her shivering, finishing the rest of his name in a sultry moan.

The Avatar of Pride blinked as the cogs in his brain stuttered trying to piece together what was happening, his hand froze in mid-air as he had been reaching out to feel the temperature of her skin. The machine continued to rock and MC couldn't find the strength to pretend she wasn't riding a dildo on the communal washing machine and felt her control starting to slip. MC couldn't read the expression on his face and averted her gaze, trying to deny that him watching her like this was turning her on even more.

Seeing his hand stretched out, MC leaned forward the small distance to press her cheek against his palm, biting her lip as she stole a glance at the demon. His eyes remained transfixed, dazed, but he didn't pull his hand away and MC was feeling a little more daring than usual. Tilting her head, she pressed his thumb against her lip, her eyes flickering again to his own for barely half a second, and closed her lips around the tip of his thumb, running her tongue along the seam of the leather. His lack of response coaxed MC on to keep going. Her tongue drew the digit in further, lips gliding over the leather, the material fueling new fantasies she'd previously overlooked.

As the dildo continued its steady rocking, MC felt her control melting away and frustration slowly started to build. Why hadn't he moved? Surely it'd be better if the eldest had scoffed in disgust and turned away than to have him just staring at her like this. She swirled her tongue around his thumb, lips hollowing as she sucked, trying to illicit some sort of response from the demon.

However, he remanded unmoving. MC felt an array of emotions ranging from frustration, shame, embarrassment, anger, all mixed with the sexual desire raging thru her, MC felt tears prick her eyes. She released the thumb from between her lips with an audible pop and faced Lucifer with a snarl; which he found endearing and as threatening as the chihuahua.

"I don't do live performances. Either touch me or leave." MC made a show or grabbing her breast from under her shirt, letting the pleasure from the toy fill her senses and began grounding her hips against the toy as the spin cycle picked up speed. Getting ready to bark at him again, MC yelped as the shirt was torn open and a pair of hands gripped her hips keeping her still but the dildo continued moving with the machine.

"I didn't realize our little human was such a naughty slut. Really. Sticking a toy on our washing machine? Are you that desperate to be fucked?" Nails bit into her flesh as his voice called out her sins, all traces of her bravado gone, replaced with an overwhelming sense of embarrassment and shame. MC tried hiding her face but he still saw the tears that threatened to spill over before crawl down her face and cooed.

"There's nothing to feel ashamed over, my dove. I apologize if I was too vulgar." Lucifer lifted her hips and she squirmed, not ready for him to see the full extent of the situation; the idea of the dildo coated in her juices waving about on top of the poor washing machine only intensified her embarrassment. However, before she could speak out, Lucifer dropped her hips causing her to slam herself back down on the toy. Stars erupted across her vision as the demon repeated the action, drinking in her reactions and felt his erection strain against his pants.

"This carnal desire is human nature. If anything, it's our own fault for not considering such a basic need." His fingers trailed along her neck, tapping against her pulse as if in thought. The hum of the washer broke through the moment and Lucifer clicked his tongue behind his teeth. He reached behind her to turn off the machine and lifted MC off the machine, and the dildo.

MC didn't get a chance to wince from the manhandling as her lips were immediately covered with his own and she felt him pulling her close to him, his hands urging her to wrap her legs around him. She couldn't match the fire he was pouring into her fast enough and he growled, simultaneously smacking her ass and grinding his erection against her folds. This new side of the prideful demon caught her off guard, but the smack brought her back with a fervor.

Her hands fumbled with the buttons on his collar and he kneaded where he spanked her, causing MC to mewl into the kiss. One of his hands moved up to hold the back of her neck as he walked to pin her against a wall. Her legs squeezed his hips tighter and he reached up to break open the collar of his shirt, shedding the clothing haphazardly somewhere else in the room. Meanwhile, MC moved to undo his pants, reaching into his trousers to palm his erection. Lucifer hissed and grabbed her wrists, pinning them to her stomach with one hand.

Releasing her lips, Lucifer latched onto her throat, biting down on the skin above her pulse and positioned himself at her entrance, hesitating for only a moment to allow her the chance to back out. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she braced herself, kissing the side of his head, and granting him permission with a soft, "please." Her voice turned into a wanton cry as he pushed himself into her. His tongue lapped at her throat, sucking against her skin as a feeble distraction to keep himself from fucking her before she was ready but the way her body was receiving him was making the demon tremble.

"Lu, please, I need you to fuck me," all shyness and mortification was gone and all that remained was the sexual desire and a sense of urgency.

"Do you know what you're asking of me, my dear? Do not underestimate me."

"Lucifer, fuck me or else I will invoke our pact and make you-" the rest of MC's threat was lost, replaced by a sob as Lucifer's restraint snapped and began thrusting wildly into MC. It didn't take long for him to readjust his position, turning them away from the wall. With his hands on her hips, the eldest brother moved her against his thrusts, bouncing her on his cock and slamming back into her. His rhythm would change randomly between fast and shallow to deep thrusts where he'd pull out to the tip and snap his hips to fully sheath himself. He'd felt her muscles constrict around him a few times, keeping a tally of how many orgasms he pulled from her, but he wanted her to make a mess and to make a mess of her.

Bending MC backwards, he continued drilling into her as he held her hips in-front of him. Her voice cried out in a scream as he relentlessly thrusted against that spot and she felt a wave building.

"Lu s-st, wait, I'm, you're gonna make, h-hold on-"

"I know MC, it's okay. Let go."

With Lucifer's words of encouragement, MC felt herself relax, giving in to the impending wave that continued to build. Reaching out, her hands found a shelf to stabilize herself, her mouth open in a silent scream as the dam broke and ecstasy filled her senses. The way she clamped down on his cock had Lucifer's hips stuttering through his own orgasm, filling her with his seed quicker than he had intended; the intensity of her orgasm having coaxed his to follow suit.

As the fog cleared in his mind, Lucifer's fingers twitched and he noticed the array of bruises littering her hips. MC lifted her head to look up at him, but the rest of her body was limp. She smiled sheepishly causing Lucifer to roll his eyes but his lips turned to shape a playful smile and MC giggled as he pulled her up. They winced as he pulled out of her, but she kissed his cheek and he brushed his nose against hers, humming as they basked in their afterglow together.

Lucifer grabbed a blanket to wrap around them and turned to leave the laundry room when he caught sight of the glittery purple dildo still mounted to the lid of the washing machine. He snorted and walked over to it. Having curled into the demon, MC had to turn to see why he'd stopped walking and groaned.

"Don't you dare."

"Hmm?

"You're going to say something really condescending and I don't want to hear it." MC snuggled closer into Lucifer's chest, pulling the blanket over her head in protest.

"I don't know about 'condescending,' but-"

"Lucifer, don't you fuckin do it."

"This had to been Asmo's idea."

"..."

"It just reeks of desperation and wanting to get caught."

"Lucifer!"

"Now if you had been a good human, and come to me with your situation sooner, all of this could have been avoided. But now, there's a big mess to clean up." Having lived with the demon brothers long enough and sitting thru many a famous Lucifer lecture, MC could hear the smirk in his voice. In retaliation, MC pinched the Avatar of Pride's nipple earning her a grunt and a thump on the back of her head. She hissed like a cat from behind the blanket and Lucifer sighed from the absurdity of the whole thing.

"Do you want to go get cleaned up?"

"....yes."

"Do you need me to keep carrying you?"

"...yes."

"Then be a good girl and hold this." MC pulled the blanket away from her head, curiosity having piqued her interest, but groaned when Lucifer handed her the aforementioned dildo. "I don't want the others seeing this in case the room isn't cleaned up by the time they come back from their classes."

Damn him for making perfect, logical sense.

"Besides, I might want to use it on you later."

"...I hate you."

"I know."

[sukifans]

May I request a Zuko x Reader with prompt number 2 from the 50 cliché prompts? I'm desperate for some fluff

SWEATSHIRT // zuko

WC: 1.8k

PROMPT: “your shirt/jumper was in the laundry pile and i couldn’t help but steal it”

WARNINGS: none

A/N: if you want fluff you came to the right place—tooth rotting fluff is my specialty. the title may or may not be a jacob sartorius reference. yall remember when tik tok was music.ly?

⇦ 𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

Living with Sokka certainly had its ups and downs. On the one hand, he always kept things interesting—you never knew what you might come home to find, and he often made you laugh so hard you had tears streaming down your cheeks. He could also MacGyver just about anything that broke in your apartment (usually broken by him, however). You’d only had to call maintenance once, when you’d found him stuck under the kitchen sink, absolutely drenched, and shouting for help as water viciously sprayed from the pipes and the garbage disposal made some sort of ear-splitting shriek.

On the other hand, his mind moved a hundred miles a minute and he often forgot little things, like closing the kitchen cabinets or starting the dishwasher. One such thing he tended to forget was to finish his laundry. Often you’d find his still-wet clothes in the washer or his clean clothes in the dryer, having finished several hours ago. The two of you had worked out a deal: if Sokka did the dinner dishes and bought the snacks for Movie Fridays, you’d make sure the apartment ran smoothly despite his forgetfulness.

That’s how you found yourself dumping a load of his clothes onto his bed after finding them in the dryer while trying to do your own chores. You picked through the shirts and boxer briefs before settling on stealing a deep burgundy sweatshirt—an unspoken part of your deal was that if you found his clothes, you were allowed to steal a t-shirt or sweatshirt of your choosing because he knew you liked to wear the oversized tops on lazy days.

He came back later that night to find you standing in the kitchen, scrolling on your phone while you waited for your tea to steep. Your wet hair hung around your face and you wore the red hoodie with sleep shorts and thick, fuzzy socks.

“Hey,” he said, dropping his backpack on the ground by the door and kicking off his shoes.

“Hey.” You looked up at him as he bustled around the kitchen, tossing something into the microwave. “How was work?”

“Annoying,” he sighed in irritation, making you grin. He turned to you and frowned, reaching out to tug at the sleeve of your sweatshirt. “Where did you find that?”

“I stole it from your laundry, stupid. You left your stuff in the dryer again. I’ve never seen this one before, did you just get it?”

“Uh... yeah. Thanks for doing that for me.”

“Mhm.” You slipped your phone into the front pocket and cradled your mug. “Why do you ask? Do you want it back?”

“Nah, it’s okay. In fact, keep it. Red doesn’t suit me, I don’t know what I was thinking when I bought it.” He had a smirk on his face that made you very suspicious.

You raised an eyebrow while you slowly sipped your tea. “If you say so, Snoozles.” You flicked his arm as you passed him to retreat into your bedroom for the night. “Don’t forget to pick up your bag. And snacks for Friday night!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he responded through a mouthful of noodles.

You and your friends were gathered in the living room like every other Friday, this week to watch Jurassic Park (yet another classic that neither Aang nor Zuko had seen, much to everybody’s disbelief). Katara and Aang sat together on the armchair, Zuko sat between you and Sokka on the couch, and Toph sat on the floor with her back against the sofa next to her service dog, Badger. You had your legs thrown across the guys’ laps and all eyes (except Toph’s) in the room were glued to the screen. Well, for the most part—Zuko kept looking over at you all night. You tried to keep your attention on the dinosaurs, but you could feel him staring at you. Eventually you caught his eye and raised your eyebrows expectantly. He simply flushed and looked away. You furrowed your brow and turned back to the movie, pulling your hands inside the sleeves of Sokka’s red sweatshirt and sticking them in the pocket.

“Did you guys know that Spielberg wanted the raptors to be taller for the movie and then a few months after they wrapped shooting, paleontologists found a new species of raptor that actually fit the movie portrayal really well? They almost named it after him,” Sokka said with his mouth full of popcorn.

“That’s nice, Sokka,” Katara responded absently, obviously not listening.

“Yeah, and they made the T. Rex sounds with an alligat—oof!” He wheezed when you jabbed your foot into his stomach. “Asshole!”

“Pack it up, IMDB,” you huffed.

“I just thought it was interes—ouch, Toph!” he yelped when Toph punched his shin.

“Stop talking, I can’t hear anything!”

“Just watch it!”

“I can’t!” Toph barked. Sokka crossed his arms and slumped down, grumbling to himself. You and Zuko glanced over at each other and broke out in grins, pursing your lips to hold back your laughter.

As the movie progressed, you noticed the tension in Zuko’s shoulders. He had his jaw clenched throughout the whole scene with the kids trapped in the car with the T. Rex attacking. You nudged him with your knee and he turned to look at you.

“You scared, Zu?” you teased in a low voice, leaning forward to squeeze his bicep. “You want me to protect you from the dinos?”

He rolled his eyes but still lifted his arm, inviting you sit up and tuck yourself into his side. As you leaned against him he seemed to loosen up, settling into his seat and resting his head against yours. Sokka noticed this and looked around Zuko to waggle his eyebrows suggestively and very conspicuously, making your face heat up in embarrassment. Unfortunately, the idiot had caught wind of your crush on his best friend and had been relentlessly tormenting you about it ever since. You glared at him until he sat back, looking disgustingly smug.

After the movie finished, everyone got up to stretch and refill their drinks before the next one started. While talking with Toph in the kitchen, you noticed Zuko standing outside on the balcony by himself. You excused yourself from the conversation and made your way out to him while all your friends hooted in the background. It seemed everyone knew about your attraction to the boy, except for the boy himself.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping outside. He looked around at you and gave you a small smile that made your head spin. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “just getting some air. It’s getting hot in there with everyone in the room.”

You nodded and stood next to him to lean against the railing. After a few beats of silence, you could feel his stare on you again. You met his gaze curiously. “What’s up, Zu? You’ve been looking at me all night.”

“Nothing, it’s just—“ he narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side as if inspecting you “—is that my sweatshirt?”

You frowned. “No, I took it from Sokka.”

“Lying bastard.” His eyes widened at your offended look when you rounded on him. “Not you! I—um, it is mine. I gave it to Sokka the other day and when I asked for it he insisted he already gave it back to me. The fucker gaslit me over a sweatshirt.”

“Sounds about right,” you giggled. “I’m sorry. I’ll give it back before you leave.”

He pulled at one of the drawstrings. “You can keep it, if you want. It’s, uh—“ he cleared his throat “—it looks better on you.”

You stood facing each other now, barely a breath away from being chest-to-chest. “I can’t take your sweatshirt.”

“You take Sokka’s all the time.”

“Yeah, because he always forgets his laundry in the machine. He owes me.” Zuko laughed a little at that, still fiddling with the string. You could feel your heart racing at his proximity. He sucked in a breath and seemed to brace himself for his next words.

“I kind of like how you look in my clothes, though. Might have to start leaving my stuff around here so you stop wearing Sokka’s.” The confidence in his voice was betrayed by the rising blush on his face that surely rivaled your own as you stared up at him with wide eyes.

Your lips parted to speak, but no words came out. All you could squeak out was a soft, “Zuko,” when he raised his hand to brush a loose piece of hair back behind your ear. You felt frozen, rooted to the spot, when his fingertips grazed your cheekbone. His hand lingered there, palm radiating heat into your already flushed cheeks.

“I—“ he pulled his hand back and chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly “—sorry.”

“For what?” you asked.

“I don’t know.” You grinned at each other and in that moment it could’ve been just you and Zuko left on the planet and it wouldn’t’ve mattered; everything you wanted and needed was right there in front of you, if you were bold enough to take that final step toward it.

“Zuko—“

“Hey, we—oh!“ Both of you whipped your heads around when the door slid open to reveal Aang standing there. His whole face went red and he laughed in embarrassment. “Sorry! Just wanted to tell you guys we were gonna start the movie, but no rush! Take your time!” He started to back away and you felt yourself release from Zuko’s magnetic pull now that your small bubble had been invaded.

“It’s okay, Aang.” You smiled gently at your friend and started to make your way back inside. “We were about to head in anyways.”

Aang shot Zuko an apologetic look before nodding and hurrying away. Zuko couldn’t find it in himself to be bitter about the ruined moment when you reached out towards him and gazed up at him with those warm, bright eyes. “You coming, Zu?”

“Yeah, right behind you.” He took your outstretched hand and laced your fingers together, squeezing his palm against yours.

Maybe you weren’t the last people on Earth, and maybe you hadn’t taken that leap just yet, but something between you two shifted and finally clicked into place out there on that balcony. Everything would work out just fine—he knew it in the way you kept your fingers slotted perfectly between his as Jaws played on the television, and in the way you quickly rose onto your toes to press a kiss to his cheek in the hallway before he left. He couldn’t wipe the dreamy little smile off his face for the rest of the night, even as he laid awake in bed thinking about you.

Yeah; everything would be just fine.

ATLA TAGS: @hotgirlazula @octophopi @simpinforsukka @protect-remus @akiris @sunflowerazula

ZUKO TAGS: @fiantomartell @avatarayeaye @hypercakeiii @sher-lockedmarvel @emeraldpotato @september-ctd

[whumperooni]

My brain hatched an idea!!! What about instead of leetle sister todoroki we got older sister todoroki👀 like natsu saying that he’ll help her with laundry but he’s actually trying to steal some panties cuz he’s a closet perv for his sis🥴 or her basically being the house wife for everyone and taking care of all their little needy wants 👀

I’m absolutely down for big sis ♡♡♡♡

(also- so sorry for taking so long to get to this!!!!)

tags/warnings: tw incest, panty kink, breeding kink

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“Natsuo, do you have any laundry? I’m going to start a load.”

Natsuo peeks his gaze up from his phone to find his older sister in the doorway- a laundry basket hitched on your hip and a tired look on your face. You’ve been busy cleaning all day and he can’t blame you for looking exhausted.

His eyes drift to the basket and he takes a deep breath when he notices your clothes piled into it, offers you a smile.

“Yeah but, hey, why don’t you let me take care of the laundry? You’ve been cleaning all day- take a break!”

Your brow furrows a little as you consider his offer, but you nod after a moment- slowly, just a little unsure.

“I...yeah. I could use a break. Thank you, Natsuo.”

“You don’t have to worry, nee-san,” he reassures you, getting up and moving to gently pull the basket from your grasp. “I’m not Touya- I won’t flood the house.”

A small giggle, a snort and you smile a little, huff and reach a hand up to ruffle his hair. If Natsuo was a little younger, he might flush and beam at the affection. He just smiles, though, and huffs fondly whenever you bestow a kiss to his cheek, watches as you walk away.

Natsuo makes sure you’re firmly out of sight before nudging his bedroom door shut and sitting the laundry basket down on his bed.

It’s only half full- a couple of skirts tossed in, a sundress, some socks, and a few of pairs of panties.

Bingo.

He should feel guilty, he knows. He should feel disgusting. Ashamed. Dirty.

And he does- a little.

But only just a little.

He’s long gone past the initial guilt that had flooded him the first time he finally broke down and gave into his sinful impulses. He’s done this too many times now to keep up with it- is too comfortable with snatching away his older sister’s panties now to be ridden with the mortification and horror and shame that used to make his eyes sting and his cock ache.

Natsuo licks his lips and paws through the laundry basket for a few moments before picking out his plunder for the night.

Silky. Light pink. Adorned with frilly lace.

It’s his favorite. It’s perfect.

Natsuo tucks the panties underneath his pillow and then loads up the basket with his own dirty clothes, totes it off to the laundry room.

As much of a degenerate as he is, he does want to help out his beloved older sister. He loves you and laundry is the least he can do to ease your burden of taking care of the family.

(Even if it is selfishness and perversion that leaves him more than happy to take on the task.)

Natsuo puts the laundry in the wash and checks to make sure that you’re busy- too busy to check up on your little brother.

You’re focused on prepping dinner whenever he peeks in on you and Natsuo quickly hurries to his room once he’s satisfied you’re engrossed in cooking, shuts the door and locks it firmly behind him.

Cheeks flushed and breathing a little hard, Natsuo walks to the bed and retrieves the panties from its hiding place.

His hands shake a little as he brings them up to his face and a low groan leaves him whenever he presses his nose into the crotch of the dirtied panties.

Fuck- is this what you smell like? He wants to know- wants to bury his face between your soft thighs and get enveloped by your scent.

Natsuo sniffs at the panties and he settles himself onto the bed, takes his cock out and gives it a stroke.

He’s so hard already- aching and slick with pre-cum, heavy in his hand. It’s probably pathetic how easily he gets hard for this- for you- but he can’t bring himself to care as he gets lost in his shameful, disgusting lust.

“Fuck, nee-chan,” he breathes out, pumping his cock and peeking out his tongue to lick a stripe along the crotch of the panties. “Fuck you taste so good.”

He bets you even taste better from the source- he bets that your juices are all silk and honey, sweet and luscious.

He wonders if you shave, how tight your pussy is. You never have boys over and you never go out- you’ve got to be so snug inside.

You could use a good fuck, probably. God knows that you deserve it with all you do to keep the family from falling apart. Just a good fuck to help you unwind, an eager mouth on your sweet pussy to bring you to pleasure again and again and again- that’s what you need. 

You work so hard taking care of everyone- you should be taken care of too.

Teeth dig into his bottom lip as Natsuo stifles a groan and snowy lashes flutter as he rocks into his fist; his eyes close as his desperation grows and his mind runs wild with all the fantasies he’ll never be able to bring to life.

“Nee-chan, lemme take care of you. Let your little brother fuck you.”

It’s near bratty, the whispered words- definitely needy. Natsuo groans and cups his balls, twists his wrist and whines as images of you underneath him unfurls in his mind.

You flushed and wet and sweet. So needy as your hands reach to curl fingers in his hair, so loving as you mewl his name and litter him with praise and kisses. Your breasts soft whenever he burrows his face between them, your body so warm as he ruts into you and makes you gasp and moan, cry out his name.

You, you, you.

Natsuo shudders and brings the panties down to his cock, wraps it along his length. He strokes himself with a grunt and flushes more as he smears his pre-cum over the silk, dirties the panties even more.

You’re so good to him, so kind. You’d let him fuck you more than once. You’d let him fill you up to the very brim. You’d coo and praise him as he shoots his seed inside you, as he mouths along your neck and marks it up with his love.

Fuck, he wants to fill you up- wants to stuff you with his cum and pull your panties back into place, watch as his seed soaks the fabric as it spills out of you.

You need to be filled. You’d be so soft and relaxed after, would nurse his cock with a sleepy smile and clean it up just as nicely as you clean up everything else.

He should fuck you right now. He should cream your cunt and let you rest, finish dinner as you nap and his cum oozes out of you.

“Nee-san, please...”

He doesn’t even notice his whine. Natsuo’s too lost in his fantasies, the frantic bucking of his hips. All he can do is jerk off to his shameful desires, moan and rut into his fist as he imagines fucking his big sister.

The lace of the panties scratch against his cock and Natsuo hisses at the abrasion, gets more frantic.

He wants to fuck you. He needs to fuck you. Needs to fuck his nee-san, needs to hear you moan his name, needs to suck on your soft tits, needs to bury his face in your pussy, needs to stuff you full of his cum.

“F- Fuck!”

Natsuo pants and he flushes all over as his hips stutter- as he whimpers and his need crescendos, his pleasure shoots past its peak.

He cums and he spills his seed all over his fist and all over your panties, soils himself and the dirtied fabric even more as he bucks up into his hand with a moan of your name.

“Nee-san! Nee-san!”

He only stops when he becomes too sensitive to jerk off anymore. A tiny whimper leaves Natsuo as the lace scrapes against his spent cock once more and Natsuo shudders whenever he lets himself go, when his cocks falls against his hip and leaves a warm slick of cum along his skin.

He breathes heavily as he catches his breath and he stares up at the ceiling through half-shut eyes- heart thudding and cheeks flared with a blush, satisfaction and exhaustion creeping through him.

It takes a moment or two for faded guilt to pulse through him and Natsuo grimaces as he sits up, as he cleans his cum from himself with your panties.

...he needs to stop doing this.

He’s not going to stop doing this.

In the distance, Natsuo hears the washer buzzing. A sigh leaves him as he runs his hand through his hair and he shakes his head before tucking his cock back into his pants.

Natsuo stuffs the panties in his bottom drawer next to all the others he’s stockpiled away and he takes a breath before unlocking his bedroom door, gives himself a moment to let his cheeks cool before leaving his room.

You smile at him whenever he passes by and he smiles back- sweet and loving as a little brother should be, his cock twitching at the thought of sneaking another pair of panties into his room.

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[stutterfly]

Snow, Don’t Tell (M) | PJM

Granny Park’s Gossip:

Jimin is the sweetest boy around, no comparison. Always ready to listen to my stories, visits me regularly and tells me all sorts of tales about those friends of his. Might as well adopt them all, I know so much about them! Jiminie’s the best grandson anyone could ask for, really, a little angel, and his little gang of friends is quite the hoot. He’s been a little quiet about himself lately, though. Kept going on and on about that neighbor of his, how cute she always looks and how he likes to help her with her groceries, but I think maybe I teased him just a little too much about that crush of his. Maybe he’ll figure out a way to get closer to her this holiday season, because who knows how much longer he’ll pine over the girl if he doesn’t. 

       ❄  Word Count: 27.2k

       ❄ Pairing: Jimin x Reader

       ❄ Genre:  Neighbors AU / Friends to Lovers / Fluff / Smut / Humor

       ❄ Rating: 18+ / Explicit

       ❄ CW and other tags: heavy sexual tension, grinding, groping, swearing, kissing, biting, hair pulling, fingering, masturbation, teasing, edging, hickeys/ bruising skin, oral sex (male and female receiving), praise kink, love kink, mentions of threesome, hinted foursome, penetrative sex, protected sex, pinching, pierced nips, tiddyfucking, dirty filthy talk, whiny Jimin, Jimin is a Snake spilling all the tea about his friends, angst, mentioned alcoholism, mentions of toxic parents, some negative self-talk which is quashed by the prince himself, feelings of self-consciousness, insecurities about education, basically a slowburn speedrun that’s wet and wild, second-hand embarrassment, exhibitionism/voyeurism, Jimin is everyone’s therapist, reader is a mess, jimin is a mess too The Snowball Effect Collab Masterlist  This is the first fic the series/project The Snowball Effect. Please click the link above to see the summaries and genres for each fic! Also, while each of these fics can stand on their own, they all end up at the same place, occurring simultaneously. There are also little easter eggs and secrets for the other fics woven throughout each of these! For the biggest, fluffiest Snowball Effect experience, we highly recommend you read each of them! Do not repost.

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‘Thank you’ is a powerful phrase. It can hold so much joy, affirmation, and even love. True gratitude is more than a word; it's a feeling. It's those unexpected, kind gestures when everything is falling apart: the small smile across the room to ease the tension, the jokes shared to lighten the load of a stressful existence, or the quarters spent drying a neighbor's laundry.

There's nothing quite like being appreciated, nothing quite like someone else being thoughtful for once, nothing quite like someone saying, "I know you didn't have to do it but you did, and I can't express what it means to me." Okay, so sometimes they don't say it, but it's strongly implied.

Around this time each year work grows incredibly stressful. Everyone is trying to push their work onto someone else's desk and leave the office in hopes of enjoying some time with family and friends. Taking off the last two weeks of the year seemed like a no-brainer. So why is it so hard to turn off the screen and actually do that?

Click. Click.

Another email answered, another client getting their response before the new year. Dark, tired eyes lazily drift across the computer screen, fluttering a moment until he catches his head leaning forwards and sits up straight with a shake of his head. How many more emails can there possibly be? Jimin stretches his arms towards the ceiling and slowly rolls onto his back, resting his head against the plush carpet of his living room. Aren't vacations supposed to be a time of relaxation and fun? Isn't he supposed to be able to turn on his out-of-office message, leave the post-it note on his monitor, and trust in his coworkers? A heavy sigh escapes him and a frustrated groan rumbles in his throat. "Why can't I just turn it off?"

Stifling a yawn, he pulls the phone from his pocket to check the time. Six fifteen. Why am I so tired already? Should I get some dinner?

He blinks a few times, feeling his eyelids grow heavier with each pass they make across his eyes. Still holding the phone, his hand slowly descends until the device is pressed flat onto his chest. He's teetering into a dream when the unmistakable jingle of keychains clattering against one another echoes in the hallway. His eyes immediately snap open, and he brings his phone up again. Oh shit. It's Thursday.

The device slips through his fingers and smacks against his forehead. As he rubs his temple to soothe the dull ache beginning to form, he ponders whether the phone is to blame or if work is the true culprit. Resting his head against the plush carpeting, he blankly stares at the ceiling and loses himself in quiet meditation, thoughtlessness consuming every second that passes. A small sound pokes through the barrier of silence, a muffled humming just barely passing through the wall beyond the couch.

Jimin lifts his head just enough to peer down his body, focusing just beyond the laptop at the wall separating his apartment from yours. The humming continues and he curiously tilts his head towards the sound, as though he can make his ears listen harder than they already are. What are you singing tonight, Snow?

He rolls over, twisting his torso just enough to rest on his elbows as he closes his eyes, hoping turning off one sense will heighten the other. Instead, he begins to imagine you frantically ripping off your work clothes in an attempt to enjoy your evening as fast as possible, quickly donning some thin tanktop you've saved as your last article of clean clothing for the week. You're always braless in the laundry room, your cold, hardened nipples poking out from beneath the flimsy fabric stretched tight around your chest. But it's never thin enough to be as transparent as he would like. His tongue darts out to wet his lips briefly before dragging his teeth over his bottom lip.

The humming wavers between louder and softer as you run between rooms, no doubt collecting everything as fast as possible in case he beats you there. Should he let you win this time?

"Baby, you're a fiiiiiiiiirework!" you belt out, very off-key before mumbling the rest of the lyrics you clearly don't know and slowly going back into a hum.

Laughter spills from Jimin's lips like a water fountain in hopes that it's loud enough for you to hear. When you continue on your tune without missing a beat, he leans back, his laughter dissipating into a wide smile as he slowly rises from the floor.

The laundry bin sits by the door, a pitifully small amount of dirty clothes resting in the bottom of it. He presses his lips together a moment before gathering clean clothes from the hangers in his closet and tossing them on the pile. Opening the door, he grabs the basket, casually strolling past your door and down the hall into the laundry room.

No one else seems to do laundry on Thursday nights. It's no doubt why you chose it as the time to do yours. One of the two washers is always busted. Tonight, however, both seem to be functioning. That won’t do. Jimin hoists himself on top of the machines, giving himself enough leverage to unplug the one that’s always falling into disrepair. Luckily the service ticket has been discarded recently. He pulls it from the top of the exposed trash bin in the corner and places it on top of the “broken” washing machine. He quickly starts loading his laundry into the functioning machine, humming the same tune he heard you singing earlier.

You don’t mind working during the holiday season. Everyone has somewhere to go, family to see. You gladly volunteer to work the shifts no one wants to distract yourself from the fact that you don’t. Overtime pay doesn’t hurt either. It’s easier to take your mind off of the disappointment that family-oriented holidays bring when you have cute little customers to send home happy and clean. Unfortunately, you always seem to get filthy in the process of making that happen.

The pile of dirty fabrics layered in your laundry basket tells you that you should probably start a load before showering if you want to have anything semi-clean to wear tomorrow. Plus, if you want to beat your neighbor to the good machine, you’ll need to hustle. Despite the sweat dripping down your neck, you don your favorite zip-up hoodie to attempt to hide the fact that your bra is in the bin with all the other items slated for a good wash.

You catch yourself in the mirror just before picking up the basket, oversized jacket sliding one of your shoulders and exposing your skin to the chill of the apartment. You’re torn between wanting Jimin to see you like this and hoping that you’ll only see him after showering, as you’re fairly certain you still smell like wet dog.

There’s an undeniable tension cutting through the air any time you’re in a room together, but you’re too much of a chickenshit to do anything about it. You’ve convinced yourself that there’s no way someone as perfect-looking as Jimin could be actually interested in you. You want the flirting and the nights spent watching garbage TV together to lead to something real, but fantasizing about how you’d knock on his door simply to confess your attraction is a lot safer than actually doing it.

Down the hall you go, lifting the heavy basket just past the threshold and dragging it across the carpeted hallway. You pop out one of the headphones in your ears so that no one can sneak up on you as you round the corner to the laundry room. Kicking the basket with your foot, it smacks into the door and you awkwardly reach over the pile of clothes to swing it open. The plastic scrapes across the tile and your field of vision travels from the floor to the machine currently filling with water.

Jimin sits on top of the washer with one leg crossed over the other, hands folded around his knee. A smug grin adorns his features as his eyes roam over your form, drinking in the surprise you offer so freely.

"I beat you again this week, Snow," he teases, bouncing his crossed leg a few times with a mischievous tilt of his head.

A puff of hot air passes through your parted lips, clearly not expecting the man to be waiting so patiently for your arrival. Your nose scrunches up in disapproval as you take a few steps towards him, hands on your hips. "You know I get home late on Thursdays. Can't you let me win for once?"

"Oh, you want me to take it easy on you?" He tuts, tongue poking into the side of his cheek for a moment. He uncrosses his legs and uses his palms to lean forward, raising his eyebrows. He pauses once he's inches from your face, letting the shallow space between you build the tension you've become accustomed to. "That doesn't sound like any fun."

You bite your bottom lip, suppressing the urge to close the distance between you. "What sounds like fun to you then?"

The way his smile falters as his eyes fill with devious wonder causes your heart to skip a beat. You swallow hard as his gaze blatantly drops to your chest and his tongue slowly rolls across his lips. Your first instinct is to cover the nipples you know are practically poking holes through your tanktop, but you power through the shame burning your cheeks long enough for his eyes to finish their journey down your body. When they settle on yours again, they definitely seem darker, full of hunger.

"I can think of a few things," he murmurs in a low voice, barely above a whisper. "But they're a secret." He giggles, a shy smile cutting the devilish tone from his words.

It's a deep enough cut through the thick tension that you can take a step back and release the breath you've unknowingly been holding. You roll your eyes and sigh as you note the repair ticket on the machine beside him. "Well, looks like I'll have to wait until you're done." You hoist the basket of dirty laundry onto the seemingly broken washer beside him, carefully taking out the small container of detergent stuffed towards the top. The words come out before you can stop them. "Do you have a big load?"

He drags his teeth over his lips a few times and allows his smile to grow impossibly wider. "You're talking about laundry, right?"

You clumsily fumble with the bottle of detergent until it hits the washer with a loud bang, trying to recover from your poorly-worded question as you position the container upright and eye the empty bin beside him."Yes. The load! It looks! ....Big... A big... Load. Did you stuff it all in there?" The thoughts pricking your tongue are short and choppy, full of regret and horny confusion.

There's no way to hide the mental images playing in your mind of Jimin taking you from behind, emptying himself into you. There's no way to hide the way you want to sink to your knees and take him into your mouth until he gives you the load you can't stop talking about.

He purses his lips and raises his eyebrows at you again, offering another chance for you to rephrase. You squeeze your eyes shut, wishing you could phase through the floor instead of dealing with the meltdown your brain is obviously having. "I just... Don't break it by stuffing it too full, y'know?"

Jimin snickers behind his hand. "Don't worry. I was able to fit everything in, but it's a reasonable size."

"Knock on my door when you're done," you say quietly, ashamed by the lack of bloodflow in your own head.

You turn to leave but Jimin grabs your wrist, causing you to spin back towards him. "Wait..."

He leans in, strawberry blonde hair falling across his face as he tries to get your attention with eyes that threaten to pierce into your very soul. His head swerves left and right and you mirror his movements to avoid eye contact.

“Look at me,” he pleads, throaty whine ripping through the base of his chest despite the smile on his lips. “Please?”

Your eye flicker to meet his, a pout staining your features that you hope will mask your embarrassment long enough to return to the safety of your apartment. “What?”

“Would you… Like to come over and watch a movie?” Despite the cheesy grin on his face, his voice falters and the tips of his ears are bright red. “I ordered pizza. I don’t think I can eat it all myself and I don't like leftovers.”

You know he has his shy side, but any time it peeks out from behind his confident persona, it still manages to catch you off guard. You do your best not to sound too eager, but you can feel the butterflies fluttering against your stomach and traveling up your chest. They’re telling you to screech your answer until your lungs quit burning.

It’s not like he’s never invited you over his apartment before. You've shared many pizzas, and takeout boxes over trashy reality TV for the past few months. But this thing you two have been dancing around is finally pushing your hormones to a breaking point. He seems interested, but always hesitates, letting moments pass that would be better spent pressing himself into your body or running his tongue across your neck.

It occurs to you that maybe he just likes to tease for some harmless fun and the prospect of things going any further with you isn’t part of the game. Maybe you’re just projecting your desires onto him. His jaw goes slack as you lean towards him, melting beneath his gaze. Dark eyes drift across your chest again, shamelessly spacing out when they settle on the pebbled nipples beneath your shirt.

Then again, maybe you think too much.

Every conversation is deeply rooted in lust, but the flirtatious banter is always coated with a fine film of pleasantries that mask your true intentions. Could he feel the same? If you can just get the static in your brain to subside long enough to form a coherent thought, to allow you to properly express your feelings, maybe you could get an answer out of him. Pushing down the excitement brewing in your gut, your eyes dart away and you nervously clear your throat.

“I… have to clean mastiff spit out of my hair,” you begin, your heart snapping in two when you catch the smile fade with the light in his eyes. “But… I’d love to come over when I’m finished.”

He visibly perks up and hops down from the washer, casually gesturing at the digital timer on its screen. “Meet back here in twenty?”

You unconsciously bite your lip, grinning like an idiot as you make your exit. “It’s a date.”

As the door to the laundry room clicks shut, Jimin bobs his head in disbelief a few times. This time you used the word ‘date.’ Tonight can’t be another movie night where he freezes up. No horror. No action movies or thrillers. It’s time to pick out some cute rom-com for you both to giggle along to, hopefully with an extra mushy scene he can use to set the mood. He jumps in the air, unable to contain his excitement. His cheeks are beginning to hurt with how much smiling he’s been doing, but he doesn’t care. You said it’s a date.

A shiver wracks his body as he closes the door to his apartment. He frowns at the number on the thermostat, quickly pressing the button to raise the temperature until it's obnoxiously higher than it should be. There. It should warm up in no time. He seeks the instant gratification of warmth, however. When it doesn't come he decides the next twenty minutes will be best spent in a hot bath.

He grips the edge of the cold fiberglass surface with his hands, sinking into the steaming water slowly with a satisfied sigh. He tilts his head back, resting it on the tile behind him. The sound of water rushing through your showerhead carries through the wall and he stills all movement, careful not to disturb the surface of the water until he hears the sliding of curtain rings along a metal rod. The pressure of the water pounding against the tub dulls in volume, clearly finding another target to assail. You hiss a string of curses that indicate the temperature is too hot for your liking, but it's far too easy to hear sin in each little gasp you take.

Jimin submerges his hand in the water, leaving the other gripping the edge of the tub. His fingers squeeze the inner flesh of his thigh before forming a tight fist around the base of his hardened cock. He stills, feeling the familiar needy pulse echoing against the grip of his palm, urging him to offer some kind of relief in the form of movement. But he’s determined to listen, straining his ears for any indication of your body’s positioning; what he wouldn’t give to be able to see you right now. What would you do if this wasn’t here? Would you watch me too?

Realizing he’s not going to get much more out of the wall behind him unless you decide to sing, he closes his eyes. It’s almost too easy to imagine the water pelting the tender flesh of your breasts. He can thank the thin fabric of your tanktops for that. The cleavage and pebbled nipples constantly drawing his attention away from your face has created a mirage in his mind that’s almost believable. Stray droplets roll down your body in places he knows his tongue could do a much better job covering. His thumb brushes up and down preemptively against his cock, doing everything he can to show restraint just in case you decide to part those pretty lips of yours and sing for him.

Finally he drags his palm up his shaft, finding a rhythm that begins to ease the throb building in his abdomen. He thinks of standing in that shower with you, strands of sopping wet hair sticking to his face as his mouth collides with the delicate skin of your chest. He thinks of tonguing one nipple and licking a stripe to the other. He thinks of using his hands to massage and squeeze at the heavenly mounds of flesh before him as the water beats down on the pair of you. Most importantly, he thinks of you pleading for more. All restraint he previously showed comes crashing down for a fraction of a second. The moan that rips itself from his throat is shameful enough to bring a blush to his own cheeks, and it’s absolutely loud enough to carry through the walls. Did you hear that? ...Did you like it?

Before he can consider pausing to listen for a subtle response, the loud thud of what sounds like a heavy plastic container hitting your floor breaks him from his daydream. Did I catch you off guard? Jimin does nothing to subdue the cackle spewing from his mouth. You certainly didn’t earn your nickname for your grace. Gradually he picks up the pace, allowing his fist to glide from the base of his cock to the exposed tip poking out of the water. The wet sloshing sound his fist makes as it bobs up and down is enough to drive him over the edge, imagining what it might be like to fuck himself down your throat. A growl starts low in his chest and builds into a whine as it tumbles from his mouth.

The glistening studs in his nipples rhythmically heave with each greedy breath, already cold and hard from the exposure to the air. His free hand instinctively moves to pinch the bit of flesh trapped between one of the studs. The sting adds a new wave of pleasure to the way his hand plunges down into the water and up again. He pants into the air, wishing you were the force guiding the hand over his shaft, creating the pressure and wetness trapped between his fingers.

He thinks of you on the other side of this wall, soapy suds running down your perfect tits, your stomach, your legs. What he wouldn’t give to be on his knees between those legs, latching onto your pussy and performing sinful tricks with pressured flicks of his tongue. You might want to get clean, but he wants to make you filthy, even as soft citrus-scented suds dribble down your body and onto his face. Would your legs buckle under the pleasure? He considers hooking his arms around your legs and leaning you back against the wall for better leverage, sucking on that sensitive, swollen bud as the water cascades down his back. What do you sound like when you really sing?

Almost perfectly timed, a moan breaks through the sound of his frenzied pelvic thrusts sloshing up into his fist. A particularly jagged exhale leaves his lips as he slows, the water undulating like angry waves crashing into one another. Click. Click. Click. The sound of the water pressure in your shower changes drastically. Jimin’s whole body convulses as he realizes what you’re doing. He plants his feet on the wall above the faucet, bending his knees so he can sink down into the tub up to his jaw.

He’s been in your apartment. He’s seen the handheld attachment. Closing your transparent shower curtains for company doesn’t mean it’s suddenly invisible. He holds back a curse as you cry out in pleasure again. This time you sound close to the wall beside him. Too close. You’re doing this on purpose. Do you want me to listen? Two can play at this game, Snow.

He drags his teeth over his lip and pumps himself fast, water spilling from the tub and flooding the cold tile flooring. Loud, unrestrained groans fill the air as the water sloshes between his palm and cock, creating a very wet, obscene squelching sound. He straightens his legs against the wall to bring himself up to a relaxed position as he gasps for release, trying not to drown in the water rolling back and forth in the tub.

It’s almost too cute the way he imagines your face is changing color right now. To his surprise you immediately retaliate with a slew of vulgar curses and frantic pleading. Electric butterflies pulse through his abdomen, quickening the pace at which his climax is travelling. It’s so close now; he can’t even pretend like that didn’t just affect him.

“Y/N…. Please… Come over… Ah...” he moans against the wall, knowing you’re panting just on the other side.

“Oh, fuck… I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum,” you warn in a shrill whisper, volume growing with each repetition until you’re practically shrieking. Just at the peak of your frenzied inhales, your voice dips into a low breathy whimper that he can barely make out. “Jimin… I’m cumming. Fuck...”

He slows his movements so he can better listen to you reach your climax, hearing his name on your lips just before losing the ability to listen to anything over his own thrashing in the water. His palm glides down his cock and back up, desperate to meet his own release. He’s got your voice in his head notifying him you’re about to cum on repeat. It drives him over the edge.

He groans, using pressure and strength to stroke himself one last time as ropes of white begin to shoot straight up towards the ceiling like a fountain and land back in the water. He pumps himself through it, riding each wave of pleasure until he’s sure he’s milked every drop of cum from his cock and the fountain of white subsides. He falls back and lets his arms go limp in the water. Now he’s the one who needs a shower.

Despite wanting to show off a little skin for your date with Jimin, there’s a chill in the complex that seems to permeate deep into your skin, digging straight down to your bones. Even the memory of your bold behavior in the shower can’t keep the heat circulating through your body. By the time you realize how long it has taken you to will yourself from the steamy bathroom, apply some “low-effort” makeup, and wiggle into a pair of fleece-lined leggings, you’re ashamed to have missed the window for your meeting by ten minutes.

You sprint down the hall in an oversized hoodie, desperate to apologize for your tardiness. The electric hum of the dryer greets you, and the washing machine previously occupied by Jimin’s belongings thrums nearby, but he’s nowhere to be found. Your laundry bin sits on top of the washer, its contents within the machine below. The backside of the repair ticket has been scribbled on and left beside your bin. ‘Are you still coming, Snow? ;)’

The ticket crumples in your palm as you stuff it in the cavity of your sweatshirt and make your way back towards Jimin’s door, holding back the nerves swirling in your chest. You want to scream in excitement, but that’s probably not an acceptable reaction, even though you reason with yourself that it is a very human one considering how long you've waited for an opportunity like this.

The door swings open before you can knock, a very bundled up Jimin puffing his cheeks out at you. For a moment you mistake his expression for one of annoyance at you. "The heat is out. Can you believe it?"

"What?"

"I just got an email from the leasing office. They don't know when it will be fixed. They're urging people to buy heaters and get reimbursed for them later," he mumbles, looking down at his phone and re-reading the message as you brush past him, immediately discarding your furry slippers as you go. The carpeting in his apartment feels so much better than yours.

"That explains why I can't stop shivering," you sigh. On your next inhale, the smell of pepperoni wafts into your nostrils, and you make a beeline for the small dining room table across the room, noting the closed box on top of it.

"At least they're offering to take money off of rent 'due to inconvenience.'" Jimin scrunches up his nose, shuffling his sulking form towards you. "But I don't want to go buy a heater."

You already have a slice of pizza stuffed in your mouth when you absentmindedly try to answer. "Ihaabwon." The words are a garbled mess.

His eyes meet yours and you nearly choke, embarrassed for trying to speak with your mouth full. The hand still clutching his phone falls to his side and he grins at you with devilish intent, eyes crinkling in the corners. "You're so cute when your mouth is stuffed."

You chew a few times and swallow hard. When you find the nerve to speak, your voice comes out smaller and softer than you'd like. "...I have one. I'll go get it."

Damn it. What happened to being bold? Maybe you'd be faring better if your heart wasn't pounding so damn fast. Despite this, none of your blood seems to be circulating properly to your fingers, your toes, or even your brain at this junction. You're suspicious it's all being funneled into your swollen clit, which has only just stopped tingling from the barrage of pressure you'd exposed it to. Regardless, you gobble down the rest of the slice as you exit, telling yourself you can't let your nerves get the better of you again. Tonight has already proven you can be braver than you think, and it's time to embrace it.

It's about twenty minutes into the movie when you finally work up the courage to place your hand on his, finding it just as cold and clammy as yours. He gives it a gentle squeeze and twines your fingers together without looking away from the screen. Your rapid heartbeat threatens to give away every ache his touch soothes. You do your best to focus on the flimsy plot of the film, but all you can think about is how nice it feels to finally have his palm pressed against yours.

The space heater across the room rattles, fruitlessly pumping out a stream of hot air that never quite makes it over to the pair of you. It’s now that you’re just noticing the soft glow of yellow string lights, creating a cozy atmosphere that you wish could be half as warm as it looks. You chew your lip as you pretend to watch the screen, feeling the weight of his head coming to rest on your shoulder. You try to avoid the thought of how badly you have to pee right now, resisting the urge to bounce your leg to stave off the sensation. The universe is too cruel.

Suddenly Jimin’s pocket begins buzzing. He pulls out his phone and silences the vibrations, groaning as he turns his face towards your shoulder. “Ugh. Laundry is done. I need to go get it...”

As he rises you feel his hand turn over yours a few times, gently caressing the length of your fingers as though he’ll never feel them again. You move to stand but he presses his palm into your shoulder, encouraging you to stay put. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it, ok? Keep my seat warm.”

You melt into the cushion, grinning foolishly at the wink he gives you before wrapping a blanket around himself and leaving. Trembling hands fumble for the remote control, pausing the movie to hopefully drag out the time you’ll spend with him tonight. You have ample time to relieve the pressure on your bladder, nearly breaking your neck on the wet, slippery tile of the bathroom.

Despite the crumpled proof sitting in your pocket, or your aversion to speaking on what you suspected was only a fucked-out fantasy, the amount of water lingering on that floor confirms its authenticity. Can you really pretend like you didn’t get off just listening to him moan and touch himself? Can you really pretend like he didn’t get off listening to you? You settle down in front of the space heater, warming your fingers on the hot air with a satisfied sigh and spacing out as you lose yourself in the memory.

Jimin returns from laundry duty after a few minutes, but you’re focused on the heat, closing your eyes and trying to get the chill out of your bones. He waddles his laundry bin to the corner of the room, setting it down before creeping up behind you. Soft fleece wraps around shoulders along with his curve of his arms. It’s warm, incredibly soft, and it smells of fresh linen fabric softener.

“You weren’t keeping my spot warm.” The chiding nature of his tone is undercut by the breathy whisper and pillowy lips thawing the cold shell of your ear.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you promise, eyes still closed when you turn your face towards the tickling sensation.

"Oh? Really?" Supple lips skim against your cheek, but he doesn't move any closer. "How?"

You exhale a ragged breath, trying to find the will to close the distance between your lips. All it would take is a nudge, just a subtle turn on your part to do so. But, like always, you freeze. How ridiculous is it that you can mutually masturbate, but sharing a kiss is somehow beyond your courage?

"I'll... keep you warm now. I'm all toasty, see?" Your palm, now slightly less frigid but still equally clammy, cups his chin as you tap your fingers against his cheek.

"I see..." he hums in disapproval, weight of his chin resting on your cold hand. "It seems like you need more time to defrost, but if you come back to the couch with me we can share this blanket I threw in the dryer with your clothes for a few minutes.”

"Hmph, are you saying I wouldn't do a good job keeping you warm?"

You can feel the twitch of his lips against your palm, shy smile forming. "Your hands are still so cold! I'm sure you have your ways. But..." He pauses, gentling bringing his thumb and forefinger across your jawline before pressing them together below your chin. "I'd love to see what they are."

You half-giggle, half-scoff at him. He’s laying it on thick tonight, but it’s not like you mind. In fact, you don’t want the night to end because of it. You both settle in on the couch with Jimin draping the soft blanket across you, remnants of a faint heat in its fibers. Just as the movie resumes, Jimin starts curling the blanket in his fingers, which causes the material to billow in his lap. It’s not like it’s a small blanket, but over the course of a few minutes you’re left with practically no coverage.

“Thief,” you finally accuse, fingers clutching the remaining edge slipping past your shoulder.

He blinks and stares back at you with a surprised smile. “Hmm? We’re sharing aren’t we?”

You roll your eyes and snuggle closer in an attempt to siphon back some coverage. Still his fingers twine the blanket in circles, inching the material further off the slope of your body. Your fingers slither across his chest and down the curve of his arm in search of the hand robbing you of heat. Neither of you are even pretending to watch the movie anymore. He tries to slink back into the cushion, smiling at your futile attempts to free the fabric from his grasp.

“You stop that,” you whisper, leaning against his chest and losing yourself in the way his eyes seem to twinkle in the golden glow of the lights circling the room. When you finally make contact with the fist curled in the blanket, he immediately drops the fabric and clamps down to lace your fingers with his.

“Make me,” he pleads through half-lidded eyes, tongue swiping a quick line across his lips.

You return the pressure on your palm with a squeeze of your own, pressing the back of his hand into the cushion beside him. “Fuck,” you breathe.

Your eyelids flutter for half a second; the electric chill running through your body may be caused by the temperature or simply the way his neck dips to lower his face down to yours. Either way, your breath hitches and you hook your leg over his lap. He takes this as an invitation to slide his free arm around your back, ready to press you even further into his body should you give him a signal to proceed.

You lean further across his lap, arching yourself up into him. “Is that what you want? You want me to make you?” you whisper curiously, lips grazing his as the questions spill from them.

“Please,” he whines breathlessly, voice cracking.

You close the gap with a sly, teasing smile, hungrily smashing your mouths together as though tasting every bit of him will sate that hunger. The hand currently sinking into the couch flies up to his jaw, thumb tracing a line over its contours as you’ve been aching to do for ages. He uses the opportunity to cradle the back of your head, gently positioning it in a way that puts less of a strain on his neck while the hand at your back coaxes you desperately towards him in a lopsided embrace.

The ebb and flow of your kisses have your heads bobbing in time with one another. He inhales greedily over your mouth, immediately coming back down to suck your bottom lip between his teeth. A small satisfied sigh lingers in your throat, and you feel his hand clamp down on the thigh you have spread over his lap.

Just as gravity starts to drive your form further from his embrace, you shift your weight and shimmy your arm out from where it’s trapped against his body. He allows you to pull away for just a moment, your lip snapping back to you with a soft, wet smack. You flit your tongue out to savor any sliver of himself that he’s left behind, already missing the way his tongue tastes when trading exploratory flicks with yours.

Planting your palm into the cushion beside his head, you gain enough leverage to fully straddle his pelvis. You tower above him, relishing in the wonder carved into the way he watches you, mirth creasing thin lines into the outer edges of his eyes. Your thumb glides across his cheek a few times as you lightly cup his jaw with your fingertips, your gaze darting between the reflections of light dancing across his eyes.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” you admit.

“I’ve wanted you for a long time,” he confesses, maintaining steadfast eye contact as he fights the blush prickling the tips of his ears.

It takes all of your self-restraint not to immediately ask why. Instead a joke forms on your tongue before you can quell it. “It’s the smell of wet dog, right? Drives you crazy?”

He giggles, throwing his head back with a loud inhale. “Irresistible!”

A shy smile parts your lips and you descend on him, crashing your mouth down on his to mute the sound of his laughter. Those gentle giggles quickly morph into muffled moans as your tongue dives into his mouth. It takes less than a second for him to counter your intrusion by sliding his tongue against yours rhythmically and you lose yourself in that hypnotic tempo.

His hands settle the top of your knees before his palms start running up to the crease where your thighs meet your hips and then back down again. Your hips involuntarily begin rocking to combat the need building between your legs, but your leggings have pulled away from your skin in the area you crave friction the most.

A staggered whimper breaks out between your frenzied panting. Whether the sound came from him or from you, it’s hard to tell. The few times you’ve opened your eyes to make sure you haven’t been dreaming, he’s looked just as fucked out as you feel. He starts drawing deep circles along the inside of your thighs with his thumbs and your need for him challenges your need to breathe. Gasping for air between wet, sloppy kisses, you card your fingers through his hair, knotting them in place as you roll your body in time with the tongue gliding against yours. This time he blows a puff of air as he moans into you, greedily latching onto your lip and biting down as the sound leaves a croaky trail in his throat.

Sliding his hands along the tops of your thighs isn’t enough. He spreads his fingers; the edge of his thumbs flare towards the inside of your legs, forging a path up towards your clit. The way the material stretches away from your body causes him to abandon his route in favor of following the fabric tucked in that v-shaped channel leading up to your hips. His touch is too light with the layers you’re wearing, but you don’t have time to file a complaint before he slides his fingers beneath your sweatshirt, clamping them down on your skin.

“Ah!” you hiss between kisses, hips wiggling at the chill creeping up your spine. “Your hands--” You don’t get to finish your sentence before he’s biting down hard again and dragging your lower lip through his teeth. “--arr sho--” Your lip snaps back to you, breaking away just long enough to speak in broken gasps before he closes the distance again. “-cold!”

He laughs against your whine, gripping your back and sneaking both thumbs beneath the waistband of your leggings. “Weren’t you going to warm me up?” You can feel him guiding your hips, dragging them in asymmetric loops over his lap.

“Weren’t you going to share the blanket?” you chide, breaking the kiss again.

He grins, gripping a corner of the blanket and throwing it over your shoulder. “I did. Now come back.” He eagerly tries to goad you back to his lips, but you pull back just a bit.

“There are better ways I can warm your hands,” you mumble, yanking his hair to the side to expose his lovely neck, golden skin riddled with goosebumps. Your mouth gets to work kissing and sucking on the sensitive, uncovered bit of flesh, gushing a little bit when he groans beneath you. But it’s not enough. If only your pants weren’t in the way, you could certainly warm more than just his hands.

He gives your hips a firm squeeze, digging his fingers into the soft flesh at your sides. “What ways are those?”

“Take off your sweater,” you tempt in a whisper, dragging your tongue up to his ear. “And I’ll show you.”

He frowns as you lean back, giving him space to do as you’ve suggested. Instead, he tugs at the hem of your sweatshirt, frown morphing into a devilish smile. “You first.”

“I… don’t have anything on underneath,” you admit, shying away from him.

He slips his hands around your jaw, pulling you forward. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“There’s no heat,” you remind him, mimicking his movements and tapping your fingers against his cheek.

“So you want me to take off mine?” he asks, feigning offense. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, dipping his head forward and following your movements. “That seems kind of unfair, don’t you think?”

Your confidence wanes and you squirm under his scrutiny, feeling particularly stupid for trying to be sexy. Sexy isn’t your thing. Floundering under pressure and saying something dumb is definitely your thing. Sweat runs down your neck, despite the fact that you’re still a walking popsicle. In your defense, the art of botching conversations is a skill that runs in your family.

"You're right," you agree, shaking your head. "I'm sorry. It's freezing. I'm an idiot."

You begin to climb off his lap, but his hands catch your hips and bring you back down. "No, no. You're not." He gently presses his lips against yours. "Don't worry. I know you've got me covered."

With a shit-eating grin, he tugs down on the blanket half-draped across your shoulder. You feel him wiggle beneath you before he leans back and shrugs his arms through the holes of his sweater, hastily working the material over his head. At least he has a t-shirt on; you don't feel quite so bad now. The flicker of static charges the air around him, strawberry blonde hair fanning out like it has its own sense of gravity. Without a second thought he moves back in to kiss you and an electric shock zaps the place where your lips connect.

"Ah!" you recoil at the sensation and he giggles between peppering your jaw with kisses. It takes all of your willpower to push him back against the cushion. He even gives you a little pout, his bottom lip protruding.

"You're worse than my clients," you tease, flicking your tongue out at him. "Be a good boy."

"I am," he insists while cupping your jaw and trying to drag your neck low enough to latch his lips onto. When he realizes you aren't having it, he snakes his hands down to your ass and gives both cheeks a firm squeeze.

"Liar." Grinning like an idiot, you grab his wrists and pin them to the cushions while you descend, watching his eyes as long as possible before you press your lips against his neck. You catch a bit of skin between your teeth and he hisses like steam is about to start pouring from his ears. Pressing down with the flat of your tongue, you explore the expanse of his neck for the sounds of pleasure you yearn to hear.

"This..." he exhales a lazy moan, trying to fight his body's will to give in but you can already see his resolve is flimsy. "...isn't fair..."

A deep, throaty moan vibrates beneath your tongue; your pussy throbs at the way the croaky sound crosses over into a melodic hum as you massage wet circles deeper into that spot where his collarbone and neck meet. Another moan escapes him between shaky breaths, higher pitched this time, and twice as needy. His wrists twitch against your palms, fingers digging into the cushion beneath him. Yeah. You want to live in this spot indefinitely.

"Hey..." he trails softly, head falling against the back of the couch. "... You're... Don't leave marks... Snow... hey... Ah... Y/N..."

Your lips smack as you come up for air. He's too drunk on the endorphins swimming through his veins to see your hesitation at the use of your name in lieu of the cute nickname you've grown accustomed to hearing. "You want me to stop?"

He whimpers, self-control buckling faster than you can even get the question out. "No, don't stop. Please, don't stop, Y/N."

He doesn't need to say it twice; you’ve been waiting far too long for this. Your tongue is back on that sensitive spot right by his collarbone and he's moaning against your ear in less than a fraction of a second.

“Mmm… you're gonna make me wear high collared shirts, aren't you?" he whispers, half shaming your actions, half just thinking out loud. There's a subtle attempt to grind his pelvis up into the space between your thighs.

You can’t help but laugh against him, tilting your head back just enough to inspect your handiwork. There’s a criss-crossed reddish-purple mark marring his skin, a placeholder to remind you where to place your tongue later. “It kinda looks like a heart if you squint. Don’t worry. It’s low enough the only way anyone will see it is if you’re walking around shirtless.”

He sighs, picking his head off the couch and trying to peek down at it. “I guess I’ll look at it later when I’m thinking of you on top of me like this.”

Your pussy clenches around nothing as he smiles innocently at you.

“...Are your hands still cold?” You’re already dragging his limp wrists up your thighs to the hem of your oversized sweatshirt

The hoods of his eyelids shade the glaze in his eyes, but do nothing for the way his jaw falls open as you continue dragging his hands upwards. You hiss as his fingers apply pressure to your body as they travel upward, leaving chilly streaks in their wake. Without hesitation, you chew your lip and cup your hands over his, pressing them into your tits. You look into his eyes for comfort as blood rushes to your cheeks. His pupils are completely blown out and you feel his labored breathing quicken.

“Is this okay?” you question, experimenting with a slight roll of your hips.

His eyelids flutter a moment as he massages your breasts, squeezing, pushing, pulling them. Your hands fall away to let him explore the hidden shapes beneath your sweatshirt.

“Is this okay she asks…” he giggles mockingly to himself before kneading his thumbs across your hardened nipples. “Do you want to know how much I’m enjoying this?”

He drops one of his hands and uses it to place yours over his pelvis. You press down with your fingers, feeling the solid erection tucked into the band of his pants.

“I tried to hide it, tried to get it to go away,” he hushedly admits, teeth briefly nipping at your earlobe. “But I’ve been like this since you walked in here.” He pauses, savoring the way you whimper when he drives his tongue into the valley behind your ear. “And everything you’re doing is making me harder.”

“Jimin…” you moan, feeling his cock twitch under the layers of fabric beneath your fingers.

“You sound like an angel saying my name like that.” Both his hands are back on your breasts, fingers digging into your flesh in ways that have you arching your back.

“An angel? Me?” Your lips curl into a crooked smile. “No one’s ever called me that before.”

As you rub two fingers back and forth over the hard shape in his pants, he clamps down on your ear with his teeth and lets a muffled moan escape with his breath. “You’re right. You’re corrupted. An angel with horns. I swear I can see them.”

“Oh, so I’m a devil now? Make up your mind, will you?” You press your lips into a thin line, trying to conceal the satisfaction in your expression when he pulls back to glare at you. Good thing looks can’t kill. His stare is as icy as the room. Is he legitimately pouting at you for teasing him? He’s the king of teasing; he’s just mad you’re just dishing it back in heaps tonight.

“No, you’re an angel with horns,” he insists, glowering as you continue to stroke him through his pants using just your fingertips. He responds by pinching both of your nipples hard, causing you to cry out and grind yourself down on his thighs. You think about slapping his hands away, but the way his fingers now work soothing circles around the sensitive nubs has you leaning into his touch, aching for more. You roll your hips forward, grazing his dick with your pelvis. But it’s not enough and he can tell.

“You won’t get what you need that way.” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and leans forward.

You instantly cling to his shoulders, feeling like he’s about to push you off the couch. His hands clutch your back as he safely dips you onto the floor. The way he towers over you as he drops to his knees has you regretting your decision to not wear panties underneath your leggings. The wetness that just gushed out of you is definitely soaking through. You lean back on your elbows, giggling like a schoolgirl as you inch yourself backwards, closer to the heater. Your eyes never leave his form as he grips his t-shirt by the collar and pops it over his head in one swift motion.

You blink, exhaling a held breath as you catch the glint of silver studs protruding from both sides of hardened brown nipples. The piercings come as a surprise, but you’re excited by the thought of clamping your mouth over them. Your eyes continue hungrily scanning the smooth expanse of his chest as he drapes the blanket across his back with a small shiver. A tattoo lines his ribs, scrawled in hasty bold letters: ‘NEVERMIND.’

He smirks, crawling over you and slotting a knee between your legs. Your fingertips gingerly brush across the inked skin in wonder, not able to take your eyes off of it. “Is there meaning behind that?”

You verbalize the thought without thinking, knowing he’s probably been asked that a million times. You know not every tattoo has to have some deep profound meaning, and you feel a little foolish for asking what might be a personal question. But every thump of the heavy beat in your chest tells you that the more you ask, the more you learn, and the harder you fall. You’ve been falling for months now, but at least it’s not such a lonely descent anymore.

He plants a gentle, chaste kiss on your lips before pressing his forehead to yours. “It’s a reminder to not care what other people think.”

“Does it work?” you ask while trailing fingers through his hair. “I feel like I could use that advice daily.”

He laughs, although you swear he looks sad as he thumbs your cheek. “Do you think I would have waited so long to have you like this if it did? I care too much about what others think. I always have. I was scared you’d see what a mess I am and you’d never look at me again. I couldn’t bear the thought.”

Your stomach does a somersault. “I think… You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met. Definitely the hottest.” That pulls a shy grin from him. Your heart is soaring, telling you now is the time to be honest. “Jimin, I... feel happiest when I get to talk to you, even for just five minutes. I love hearing you talk about your granny because it gives me hope that families don’t have to be so messed up. I don’t have parents to call and talk to about my day. I used to be sad about that. Then you started doing laundry on my night. And you always make a point of asking about my day. It’s such a small thing, but it makes me so happy.

“Because you listen to my rambling and instead of calling me dumb or hurrying me to the point of my stories like everyone else in my life, you always look at me like…” you pause, trying to push down the tears you can feel building, but you know your eyes are going glassy because his brow furrows in sympathy.

A subtle frown takes hold of his mouth and his eyes soften, leaving an ache in your chest that makes it harder to go on.

“...like you actually like listening to me. I can’t describe how much that means to me because,” you continue, struggling to breathe and speak at the same time, “I’m used to being ignored or talked over. You’re the first person in a long time to make me feel like I’m not a burden. Or… a grade-A fuckup.” A choked laugh escapes with your held breath. “You think you’re a mess, Jimin, but look at me. I’m a mess. And yet, when I’m with you, I feel like it doesn’t matter. I don’t know how to describe it, but there’s something about you that makes me feel...”

Goddamnit. You’re blowing it. Jimin’s hovering above you, shirtless, after just making out with you and now you’re turning things into a sob-story. Tears well up in your eyes and your throat closes, forbidding you from saying anything else. Are you shaking because you’re cold, or because this is almost too much to handle? You should get up. You should go back to your apartment and cry it out and apologize in the morning.

You push him back and sit up, intending to do just that as the tears in your eyes use gravity to their advantage. You move to wipe your eyes, but Jimin’s fingers catch them right as they begin to streak down your cheek.

“Complete? Less alone?” he wonders, trying to get you to look at him. “I listen to you because you deserve to be heard. You’re funny and cute and smart. And you always have a good story about dogs. How can anyone not want to listen to you?”

He throws his arms around your quivering shoulders, bringing you into a tight hug. “I’m sorry that people have been so cruel, that life has been so unfair to you. But I… will always ask about your day. Not because you need to tell me, but because I want to know.”

He sniffles loudly and your hands fly to his back to comfort him. “Maybe it’s okay that you’re a mess because I am too. Let’s be a mess together, okay?”

He pulls back and now it’s your turn to wipe the tears from his eyes. You share a warm smile when your eyes catch the flash of red lace on his shoulder, making your heart sink into the pit of your stomach.

You gulp as his eyes follow your gaze to your favorite pair of red panties clinging to the fleece blanket. You immediately try to snatch them, but he beats you to them and closes his fist around the lacey material.

“Wow you already took these off for me?” he asks with a sly grin, knowing damn well that they must have stuck to the blanket he briefly tossed into the dryer with your clothes. You stumble over your own knees as you reach out to take them back.

He puckers his lips and feigns surprise, forcing air through his teeth as he raises his eyebrows. “Oh, they’re a little wet!”

You wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole as you snatch them from his grip.

“Don’t be so embarrassing,” you mumble, stuffing them into the pocket of your hoodie.

“But you’re so cute when you get shy.” He goes in for a kiss, but misses your lips as you turn your head away. Not to be dismissed, he moves towards your ear, ghosting his fingertips around your hairline.

“Besides,” he continues, lowering the usual melodic tenor of his voice to a sultry bass, “I know that’s nothing compared to how wet you are for me now.”

He knows. Of course he knows. Ashamed by the truth in his statement, you bury your face into the warmth of his neck, letting a high-pitched whine flee from your throat, which quickly turns into a muffled screech against his skin.

He laughs at the ridiculous sound. You’re so weird. How can you be so weird and still turn him on? “See? You’re so cute. Hey, don’t hide from me!”

He takes the opportunity to slide his hands under your sweater again, fingers pinching the soft flesh of your waist. You bolt upright and grip his wrists like you’re about to snap them in half.

“Such a brat. I take back all the nice things I said,” you whisper, rolling your eyes. Even as the words are coming out, you’re bringing his hands to your chin and kissing the brim of his curled knuckles.

“You can’t,” he weakly drawls, losing himself in your touch.

He walks his fingers over your bottom lip and drums them against the inside of your mouth, watching your lip snap back to you with each slow, alternating swipe. You dart your tongue out to coat the pads of his fingers, wanting to tease the wet heat of your mouth closing down on him. But the way his eyelashes hopelessly batt as he tries to close his eyes and compose himself has you sucking his fingers into your mouth in an instant. Hollowing your cheeks, you trap him in the slick pressure chamber between your cheeks and your tongue. His jaw hangs open as he watches you slowly glide them in and out of your mouth.

An uneven breath hitches in his throat. “Don’t be a tease,” he pleads.

You pause, chest burning as his eyes bore into yours. His fingers coast out of your mouth with a gross popping sound and you kiss the tips of them before speaking, “Then don’t be a brat.”

Pulling the blanket over his shoulders, he wraps an arm around your neck, the weight of his body pressing you back. The distance between you quickly fills with muffled moans and the wet smack of your lips hungrily sliding against one another.

“I want to feel you,” he murmurs between open-mouth kisses, fingers diving under your sweatshirt and slowly working the material up your stomach.

“Me too,” you say, brain short-circuiting as his mouth licks a hot stripe down your neck. “I mean, I want you to feel me too. Not that I don’t want to feel you. I want to feel you. A lot.”

He smiles against your skin. The fabric of your sweatshirt bunches up just below your breasts and he pauses, waiting for a possible objection. “Do you want me to keep going?”

“Please,” you breathe, already wiggling your arms out of the sleeves. Between the chill of the air and Jimin’s sharp inhale, your nipples grow rigid. You’re pretty sure they’re hard enough to cut glass. His eyes roam your chest, drinking in the sight of your beauty just as you finish dragging the sweater over your head. He forces himself to tear his eyes from the sight of your pebbled nipples heaving up and down with each shallow breath your lungs take in.

Blinking a few times, he drags his eyes up and giggles when he sees the static in your hair.

You recoil and quickly criss-cross your arms to cover your chest, mistakenly believing he’s mocking your body. You think you’d be used to people laughing at you by now, but it still catches you off guard. It’s like a swift punch to the gut when you consider your foolish optimism. Armed with knowledge of the meaning behind his tattoo, you truly hoped Jimin could see past the years you spent ripping yourself apart in attempts to please others.

It’s been tough, but you’ve been able to pick up the pieces of your shattered self-esteem since moving away from the city. Leaving behind the hate and negativity binding you back to that world seemed impossible at the time, but you’ve made such progress, such strides away from all that. You’d like to think you possess a resilience, a hard shell that protects you from cruel people now, but it turns out you’re just as soft and vulnerable as ever.

It’s been years of tying ribbons decorated with hope and cheerfulness over the despondency branded into your core. And it feels like everything you’ve worked so hard to become unravels in an instant. You feel like melting into a puddle of tears. You feel like an idiot.

“Are you okay?” His smile falters and the laughter previously ringing throughout the room dies on the tip of his tongue. Anxiety drenches his face as he looks upon you, his stomach flip-flopping with the concerns building in his throat.

“Sorry,” you apologize, unable to hide your shame for not living up to whatever expectations he might have had. Still, you cling to the shred of dignity that remains lodged in the back of your mind. “I know I’m not… Like… The best looking, but it was kind of mean to laugh.”

“Oh…. Oh no… Y/N, I wasn’t laughing at… I would never… I was laughing because of this…” He drops his finger to your nose and you’re shocked by sharp a jolt of electricity. He makes a big gesture around his head to try and explain. “Your hair was fluffy. It was cute.”

He does his best to hide the tremble of his fingers as they brush the hair from your eyes and slowly trace jagged lines down your body. “I think you’re beautiful. And I will never. Ever. Be cruel to you. I will never hurt you.”

“Promise?” you ask, feeling foolish for falling apart so easily under a false assumption.

“I promise,” he insists, innocently brushing his lips against yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into both a deeper kiss and embrace. The cold sting of the metal studs at his nipples gives you goosebumps, but the skin-to-skin contact has you moaning into him and craving more. Your tongue plunges into his mouth and he responds with an enthusiastic grind of his hips.

“Fuck,” you pant, already not-so-subtly yanking the fabric of your leggings down.

“Let me help you,” he offers.

Your hands, which have been trying to work the material down your hips without lifting your ass, abandon their efforts in favor of groping the small of his back and lightly massaging the back of his neck. He smiles sweetly, lifting himself up enough to trail a hand down between the two of you, letting it take a detour along the curve of your breasts as it goes. When it finally meets the fabric still gathered just above your sex, he pauses and then dives his fingers below the material instead.

You gasp as he rubs his fingers along your folds, seeking access to the prize hidden beneath. The slick, sticky coating now drenching every bit of your cunt allows him to glide through almost too easily. Suddenly he’s rubbing small, quick circles against your slippery clit and your can’t help but throw your head back against the floor. Lucky for you the carpet softens the blow.

“Does it feel good?” he asks with a pleased hum as his lips close around a pebbled nipple and swathes his tongue over it.

Your head lolls from side to side as you massage your fingertips into the base of his scalp. “So fucking good, Jimin.”

He moans at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue, deciding it’s time to rub your clit with his thumb instead so he can dip his fingers inside you. His knuckles rub against the damp fabric of your leggings as he teases your obscenely wet entrance with a finger. Quickly deciding two is far better than one, he plunges them inside your dripping cunt while keeping a steady pressure on your clit.

You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut as he curls his fingers up to experience the contraction of your walls before he starts languidly pumping those delicate digits in and out of you. Digging into his back with your fingernails and knotting your other hand in his hair, you cry out a sound that makes his cock twitch against his belly.

He drags your nipple through his teeth as he pulls back, watching the jiggle that ripples through your breast before turning his head to rest on it. Suddenly his fingers disappear from your cunt and your walls spasm, weeping at the loss.

“So wet…” he whispers, sliding all of his fingers along your folds and gathering as much of you as he can.

You’re so fucking embarrassed. You’re not just wet, you’re salaciously wet, like a goddamn waterfall of pussy juice. Just as you’re about to apologize, he drags a wet, sticky trail up your belly with fingertips that have been drowned in your essence. You lose the will to speak as he looks up from his resting place on your tits.

“Is this all for me?” he inquires with a face of stone, eyelids half-closed as he spreads his fingers apart to let you see the glistening trails connecting them.

You manage to squeak out a pitiful, “I’m so sorry!”

Why you’re acting like you’ve physically harmed him in some way has him beyond puzzled. “Sorry? But, why?” He blinks, furrowing his brow. “I’ve never had someone this wet for me…. From now on…” he shyly trails off, bringing his fingers to his kiss-swollen lips and flicking his tongue across each one. His voice drops an octave. “I’ll be thinking about this every time I cum.”

With that he dips one into his mouth, eyes fixed on yours. You can’t look away, can’t even blink when he moans, eyelids fluttering as he deeply inhales your scent. “Delicious….”

You watch, speechless as he takes turns plugging his fingers into his mouth until he’s licked them all clean. “You taste sweeter than I imagined, Snow.”

When you don’t react, and stare at him like a terrified deer in headlights, he leans forward and hovers above your mouth. “You okay?”

Smelling yourself on his breath, your eyes close and you pull him into a deep kiss. He already tastes so fucking good. But he tastes heavenly when he’s wearing you on his tongue. “You’re... ” You try to shake the stupor out of your eyes, but you’re so smitten. “Amazing.”

He grins, pressing his lips to your cheek, then your neck, then your collarbone. He swipes his tongue across an area that makes you tense and he decides to revisit it, sucking a red mark of revenge into your flesh.

“I want you so fucking bad. Please, Jimin,” you whimper his name like he’ll take pity on you and climb back up your body to give you another taste of his mouth dripping with your juices.

Instead, your fingernails claw channels into his back as he forgoes the spot at your neck. He descends, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses on every bit of exposed skin he can around both of your tits. “I want...” He laps the sticky trail he previously made with his fingers, following the path from your nipple down to your waist. “To make…” His tongue makes a lazy circle around your belly button before coasting down to the band of your leggings. “You cum for me.”

Your walls try to clamp down on something, anything, but there’s nothing inside your cunt to satisfy the craving driving you mad. You don’t have time to ruminate on this because he’s already yanking your leggings down your thighs, pulling them off and tossing them across the room. Your first instinct is to lock your thighs together to hide yourself from his gaze, but his palms catch your ankles as he moves to slot himself between your legs.

“Finally,” he breathes, running his hands up the inside of your calves, past your knees, slowing when he reaches your thighs. “Can I...?”

He seeks your approval, but you’re already throbbing with need, nodding and biting your lip to keep yourself from screaming yes. “Please, Jimin. Please.”

You tense as he presses his palms into both of your thighs, spreading you wide so he can see your glistening pussy. “Beautiful.”

Your cheeks are on fire, but you don’t have time to dwell on that either because Jimin is diving his tongue into your cunt like a man starved, lapping up your juices with a shameless slurping sound. And it feels like you’ve reached fucking nirvana.

“Oh fuck,” you cry out, tone laced with whiny need. All you can do is twist your fingers around strands of his hair as your head slams back against the floor. If it weren’t for this carpet, you’d probably have a concussion by now.

The more you whimper, the harder he pushes his jaw into you, swiping his tongue into the entrance of your cunt and collecting as much of your sweetness as he can. He flicks his tongue in messy circles along your labia, taking his time as he works his way up to that sensitive bundle of nerves above.

You swear that he must have some sort of supernatural gift for eating pussy because you can already feel the orgasm building in your gut. You flex the muscles of your stomach, trying to will yourself to hold on just a little longer. Clenching your jaw, you tighten your grip in his hair and swallow hard. He groans against you as you tug at his golden locks, sending soft vibrations straight to your core.

The forgotten movie continues playing nearby, but all you can hear are the deep inhales he's taking through his nose as he keeps is mouth clamped down over your clit. The wet squelching of his tongue mixing saliva with your own bodily fluids should be grossing you out, but it fills you with a new wave of desire that pushes you closer to the edge. You've only ever gotten close this fast when you're alone. How much of his soul did he have to sell for this sinful ability?

You moan his name again as you slide one hand to your tit, groping and pinching your freezing nipple in multiple directions. He lifts his mouth to hungrily gasp for air while continuing to sweep his tongue over your vulva. When he catches the movement of your hand tweaking your nipple, he groans and passionately moves his lips over your clit like he's trying to make out with it. Your eyes roll back and you whine loudly as he pulls himself off you long enough to speak.

"You taste so good, " he whispers, sounding out of breath, like he might have been suffocating himself in your cunt for fun. "Does it feel good?"

He brushes his fingertips over your swollen clit, knowing damn well you're pulsing with need. You prop yourself up on your elbows and look down at him. He cocks his head to the side, allowing his hair to fall across his face, waiting for you to answer.

You answer with a roll of your hips, trying to increase the pressure of his fingers on your bud by wrapping your legs around his back. He obliges your need for a moment, basking in the feel of your body desperately grinding onto his fingers, but he pulls them back and tuts at you with a sweet smile on his face. It's subtle but Jimin can feel it: the tremble of your thighs.

No matter how much you try to hide it, he knows. You're already so close that you're literally shaking. Will you beg me, Snow?

His eyes settle on yours as he slowly moves his fingertips back to your clit, only granting featherlight touches until you answer his question. When you push your hips back down for more, he moves his hand away again, grinning like a madman at the frustration staining your features.

Maybe you forgot what he asked. Raising his eyebrows, he trails his fingers up and down your thighs in teasing repetitions, always retracting them the moment he starts to give you what you want. "Tell me it feels good."

"You know it feels good," you whimper as his thumb swipes over your entrance.

"How good?" He stills, hovering his fingers over your clit. You can feel him teasing faint circles over it, denying you any sort of pressure until you answer.

"So fucking good."

He licks his lips, and spreads your folds open with his fingers. "Tell me how much you want me."

"I want you so fucking bad. I can't think about anything else. Please, baby."

A mischievous grin spreads across his face. "Baby…" he parrots back in a whiny voice, mocking you while kissing a line down your inner thigh. He swipes his tongue slowly up your entrance, quickly licking your clit like it's his new favorite flavor of lollipop.

"Jimin, please," you protest, throwing your head back so you don't have to look at him.

"What?" He slows his pace, kissing your swollen bud and rolling it against his tongue, pausing to whisper into you. "Tell me, baby."

With all mockery removed from his tone, the innocent word sounds absolutely sinful falling from his lips. If you're being honest, you never want him to stop saying it.

"You're evil," you breathe. "Please, don't stop."

You squeeze your thighs around his head as he massages his tongue against a particularly sensitive spot.

"Ah…! There! Right fucking there!" Your elbows ache as you try to stay propped up to keep your view of his beautiful face buried in you. "Jimin… Jimin, you're gonna make me cum."

Dark eyes peer up at you, sucking your labia through puckered lips before pausing to pant against you. "I know… Will you touch your pretty body for me, baby?"

Your thighs twitch at the request. He takes the opportunity to slide a finger inside your cunt while he tongues your clit. You lean back even further, mouth silently hanging open like you're about to start wailing. Instead you grab at your breast like it's your lifeline, catching your nipple between shaky fingers. Finally you give up on watching and throw your head back, resting it on the floor and running your fingers through your hair to keep from shoving his head down.

The quiver in your thighs grows stronger and you find yourself involuntarily bouncing to fight the sensitivity mixed in with pleasure. He clamps a hand on your hip to try to keep you from bucking him off the wonderful spot he's found. You clench around his fingers, aching for his return when he lifts his mouth from your clit.

"Look at me," he pleads, reaching his thumb up to tease the place he's left covered in spit.

You struggle to perch yourself on your hands, running on pure adrenaline from the most intense edging of your life. Fingernails dig into the carpet on either side of you, arms shaking like they're made of jello. "Jimin… I can't. Not when you're looking at me like that."

He cocks his head to the side curiously. "I'm not sure what you mean?"

You beg, not as a "please," or "come on," but his name expressed as a hopeless sigh; it sounds criminal when you say it like that.

He cracks a smile. "Let me help you."

He slides the hand currently at your hip around your side and presses against the curve of your back. Slipping his fingers from your cunt, he shoves them into your mouth and forces you to bend forward and watch as he descends to replace them.

"See how good you taste?" He whispers it like it's some forbidden secret he's chosen to share. Not giving you a chance to respond, he works his tongue along every delicate fold he can, savoring the tremor of your form as he turns his attention to that wonderful spot he found earlier.

Release is closing in fast as he batters his tongue against your clit. You mindlessly suck your taste from his fingers, letting a culmination of saliva and your own juices seethe from the corners of your mouth to coat your chest in a messy drizzle.

"Fuuuck," you whimper, bobbing your head over them like they're the cock you're craving. The pleasure between your legs is all-consuming, causing your eyes to water as you clench them shut. You feel your orgasm cresting with each quick swipe of his tongue. You force your eyes back open, fearing he might stop and tease you again if you don't.

"Ahhhhm," you moan as his fingers tug your jaw down and you grind your clit hard against the velvety smooth comfort of his lips. "Gonna cum."

Keeping his dark, hungry eyes locked on yours, he releases a groan that vibrates into your core. Your hips stutter against him and suddenly tense. The only form of movement your body offers is the violent tremor deep in your core as you give in to the crashing waves of your orgasm.

Your sharp intake of breath and heavy, spit-soaked moan is almost enough to make him cum on the spot. The quick battering of his tongue never falters and he lets you ride out the high until your body can process movement again. Aftershocks wrack your core until you're bucking your hips in an attempt to free yourself from the overstimulation.

He considers standing his ground to try and give you another, but he climbs up your body instead. Your arms wobble as he presses himself against you, lips and chin glistening in the low light. Despite the sweat running down his forehead, he shivers when you run your tongue over his lips to commit to memory how good he tastes when he's wearing you.

You reach down, palming his length through his pants, feeling the leaking tip poking out the band at his waist. "I want to make you feel good. Please let me make you cum."

He takes in a ragged breath against your kiss, "I'll be right back."

Before you can process the words, he's gone, leaving you as a panting mess on the floor. The heater sends a flow of hot air towards you but you can still feel the cold nipping at your sweaty skin.

Jimin practically sprints back to you, tearing the condom wrapper open with his teeth. When he sees you lying naked on his floor, he pauses to take in the sight. This better not be a really vivid dream.

You look up and he's looking back at you, smiling in a way that melts the chill off every part of your body. You grin like a smitten fool, unable to focus on anything but his kind eyes, even as he's tugging his sweatpants off and rolling the condom down his shaft.

By the time you realize you have a chance to look at his dick and commit the sight to memory, he's already slotted himself between your legs. He pulls the forgotten blanket over his back and lets the weight of his chest come down on yours.

He brushes the hair from your forehead as you wrap your arms around his form in an intimate embrace. He studies your face a moment, wondering if it's too soon to tell you how much he cares about you. It's the little things over the months he's fallen for, small pieces of you that have burrowed into his heart to build a larger, stronger form of affection. This feeling is more than just a shallow attraction, but will bringing that up make you run away?

It's worth the risk. If you don't feel the same, then he can't bear to have you like this even if his body is screaming for it. It can't be meaningless. Not with you.

He offers a gentle kiss, fingers trembling as they cup your chin. He lets the whisper rest against the surface of your lips. "I love you."

Your heart skips a beat and you hug your arms tighter around him. Love is a strong word. Especially for you. Growing up, you experienced what two people called love for the sake of outward appearances, but it was really only a mask they wore to conceal their hatred of each other. How can you say you love him when you don't even know what real love is like?

He waits for the response buried in your throat, trepidation taking hold of every thought outlining the possibility of reciprocation and twisting it into a mental lashing. Has his sensitivity on this matter really messed it all up? His eyes flicker between yours, pursing his lips and holding back a sigh when the answer doesn't come. He can’t tell what you’re thinking but heaven knows he’s trying to nurture the power of telepathy right now.

You know he wants the truth, whatever it may be. You swallow, chest tight as you try to form the words. You think of the kindness shown by others in your life, all the good experiences mixed in with all the shit life has thrown in your face. Jimin falls into the extremely good category, like the "I didn't know I could feel this good" category. You can't imagine a day going by that you don't talk to him. You don't want to.

"I don't have a good example of love-love to go by," you begin, watching him try to hide the disappointment in his face. "But I'd like to think this is what it's supposed to be."

Tears sting your eyes. Vulnerability is hard, but you're willing to take a chance on him and he realizes how big that is for you. Salty sweet tears of relief run down his cheeks as he kisses away your shared insecurities.

He could spend forever tangled in your embrace, innocently kissing away your worries and fears. Your fingers drag their way through his hair and you rut your hips into him, grinding your pelvises together. Being this intimate is new and exciting, but it's leaving you too vulnerable and is becoming an increasingly prominent source of anxiety.

Gripping the edges of the blanket at his back, you pull it across his shoulder blades as though it will cover the goosebumps speckling your chest. "Mmm. Please don’t make me wait any longer.”

He steadies himself on his elbows, fingers dancing with strands of your hair against the carpet. He rolls his hips against you a few times with a smile, letting his dick slide against your soaked, sensitive clit before lifting back and lining himself up properly.

“Tell me you want me,” he whimpers, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance with shallow taps. You try to lure him in by contracting the muscles in your pussy touching the head, hoping the feeling is enough rather than words. You’re having a hard time with those right now.

“Aaah…” he moans, dipping his head to your neck a moment. “You really are impatient.”

Slowly, he glides himself in about an inch, feeling you tense at the intrusion. The stretch makes you breathe a moan into his ear, causing him to snap his head back up to make eye contact with you. His chest is heaving as he waits, trying to give you time to adjust without blowing his load immediately. The way you’re trying to torture him by squeezing your walls around him is not making things easy.

“More, please,” you sigh, gripping the thick meat of his ass and pulling him towards you. “I want you.”

Finally, he gives in to the pleasure. His eyes roll into the back of his head as he bottoms out in one smooth motion. You squeak a brief sound of satisfaction, enjoying the dark hunger blazing in his eyes when they focus back on your face. He tries to reel the self-control back in, dragging his cock out at a leisurely pace before slowly working it back in. The last thing he wants is to hurt you, for this to be an unpleasant experience. But god. You feel so good. Too good.

“I always want you,” you breathe, hooking your legs around his waist and rolling your hips up to meet his as they come back down.

It’s difficult to think when you’re such a gorgeous mess beneath him. With your eyebrows knitting together, jaw hanging open, an apologetic look in your eyes as your hand shoots up to grip the back of his neck for better leverage to thrust yourself back up at him: you’re the epitome of perfection. His pace quickens with a spike of adrenaline surging through his veins. Soon his mouth hangs open, mirroring yours as he’s overwhelmed with the sensation of your tight, wet hole squeezing his cock like it’s the only place it’s ever needed to belong.

“J-Jimin,” you whine, looking down to catch the way your own tits press together, bouncing in unison with your writhing bodies. You try to see past your tits, hoping to catch a glimpse of his length disappearing inside of you, but the shadows cast by the blanket make it hard to see much of anything. So you drag your eyes back up to meet his, absolutely destroyed by the wonder painted all over his features. He’s looking at you like you’re the most perfect human he’s ever seen.

Because you are.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, bringing his open mouth down over yours.

With your tongues duking it out with each other, he pistons his cock into you with a vigor unlike anything you’ve experienced in your life. The squelching of your pussy while being mercilessly pounded is background noise to the sound of his balls slapping against your ass. You groan a garbled sound into his mouth, trying to remember how to breathe and process pleasure at the same time.

He moves to your neck, latching onto a sensitive spot immediately. This combined with the weight of him pressing down on your chest has you heaving, exposing more of your neck for him to explore. Your sweaty bodies slide against each other and you roam your fingers through his damp hair, savoring the feel of his tongue gliding up and down your neck until he settles on a place that makes you curl your fingers around those strawberry blonde locks.

You never thought you’d feel safe like this, and yet here you are. You’re about to lose yourself in the emotional implications of your progress when he slips right out and thrusts up against your clit, immediately apologizing. You cry out at the loss, wishing he could fill you up all day every day for the rest of your life. Because without him you feel so empty.

He chuckles nervously. “Slippery… Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

You smile, placing a small kiss on his lips. “I’m fine. But I think you’re working too hard. Why don’t you relax?”

You place a hand on his chest, facilitating the switch in your positions. Jimin rolls flat on his back with a grin, blanket trapped beneath him. There’s nothing to hide behind now. You finally take in the sight of his cock standing at attention, its beautiful girthy form being suffocated within the cream-covered condom. It’s a perfect size. Not too big. Not too small. Most of all it’s wide enough to fill you up, and so fucking delicious-looking. You could pop the condom off and take him into your mouth right now. He must see the thought cross your mind as you lick your lips because he grabs your wrists and guides you up to meet his face.

“Come back to me. Your Prince Charming would like to kiss you,” he coaxes in a cloyingly sweet tone. “There will be time to kiss me elsewhere later.”

“Oh, you’re my Prince Charming?” You can’t help but smile. He makes your heart swell with joy, even when he’s being a brat. “How long have you been holding onto that one?”

“Since the day I decided you were Snow White,” he says breathlessly.

“I told you that animals don’t actually like me as much as you think they do. Birds poop on me all the time.”

“And I told you Granny says that’s good luck.” He presses his lips to your cheek and grabs your waist. “I just wanted to sweep you off your feet,” he sheepishly admits, eyes darting away for a moment.

You straddle his waist, aligning yourself with his cock. “And tell me, what do you want now?”

“I want…” His eyes glaze over as he feels you sink down, grunting a weak “please” when you’re flush with his pelvis, unmoving. His hands link themselves with yours as you lean over him. Instead of looking anywhere else or trying to get you to move your hips, he stills and looks deep into your eyes. “I want to be your happily ever after, my lovely princess.”

His words catch you off guard and tears begin falling with your stunned blinks. He’s always looked at you like a princess, hasn’t he? It doesn’t matter how screwed up you may feel, or even how screwed up you actually are. He loves you. He cares for you. And he wants you to see what he sees so badly that he will point the mirror on the wall towards you every day until you see that you truly are the fairest of them all.

“Please don’t cry,” he says, wiping the tears from your cheeks. There are already tears forming in his eyes too. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I am,” you smile, lowering yourself to press your chests together. His arms wrap around you, offering comforting strokes with his fingertips against your back. His cock is still buried in your pussy and it’s distracting. He would love nothing more than to thrust up into you and spill himself in your guts.

“Tell me you love me,” you beg in a hushed whisper, kissing him like he’s the only form of oxygen you’re going to get for the rest of the night.

“I love you,” he whispers back between greedy, sloppy kisses.

You roll your hips, granting the movement he’s been craving as you slowly bounce on his cock. When he groans you clench around him and pick up your pace, hoping that you’re not as sloppy as you feel. Between the tears and the emotions swirling in your chest, your hips are a stuttering mess. If you are being a terrible top, he doesn’t say anything. He rocks himself with your slow, fucked out pace, hitting a heavenly spot inside you with each pivot your hips make to meet his again.

“I love you,” he repeats into the air as you lean back and steady yourself by placing your palms on his chest. He squeezes his eyes shut as you begin a new, rapid tempo that threatens to make him cum in seconds. He slurs out a whine of incoherent sounds, indicating you’re bringing him closer to the edge of release.

The shy, proud grin spreads across your face like wildfire as you watch him physically struggle to compose himself. “Got a big load for me, Charming? Or is it reasonably-sized?”

His face is flush and those big black pupils are dilated so wide you can’t tell them apart from the irises anymore. He wants to tell you to slow down so he can drag this out some more, but his climax is racing the words trapped in his throat. He grabs your hands and pulls you down close to him so he can kiss you again and again.

“Y/N… Ah…. I can’t....” He’s sucking air through clenched teeth between kisses, trying his best to push back the tightness in his balls.

“It’s okay, Jimin. Let go. Cum for me.”

With that he quickly wraps his arms around your waist, digging his fingernails into your sides as he takes control from beneath you, fucking you hard and fast as he chases his release. Your body shakes as he relentlessly thrusts those sinful hips upwards in quick, powerful strokes, holding you in a tight embrace like you might float away if he loosens his grip. You moan into each other’s mouths, the muffled sounds mingling as you crash your tongues against one another.

“I love you,” he whispers again, desperately this time.

“I love you too,” you respond breathlessly, doing your best to keep up with the insane tempo he’s set.

“Oh,” he quickly gasps, unable to fight the curse on the tip of his tongue. “Baby… Fuck... I’m cumming.”

The rhythm of his thrusts somehow increases in speed and you’re relieved to hear him gasp out the affirmation of his release. A small part of you is worried you won’t be able to take much more, even though you really want to; it’s been some time since anything has been between your legs that didn’t run on batteries. This is so much better.

Needy moans spill into your mouth with your name on repeat between breaths. He pumps himself into you with one last burst of power. Once. Twice. Three times. His hips shake beneath yours and fall limp against the floor as he chews on your bottom lip. Jimin cumming is hottest fucking thing you’ve ever experienced in your life and tonight you’ve heard it twice.

He allows your lip to snap back to you and plants a kiss on your forehead before rolling you over onto your back and slipping himself from inside of you. “Will you stay here tonight?”

You nod with a tired smile. “If you still want me.”

“I always want you,” he whispers with a shy kiss to your cheek. “The bed’s a bit more comfortable though.”

“I really didn’t mean to say it,” Jeongguk whines, face buried in his hands as he sits on Jimin’s couch.

Jimin puffs his cheeks, sparing a glance at the clock on his phone. He made plans to watch a movie with you once you got home from work. And by watch a movie, he means to disregard the movie as background noise and fuck you senseless. What he didn’t plan on was his friend stopping by for an impromptu therapy session; it happens often enough that he usually is prepared for such an event. But there’s only been one thing on his mind for the past week, and it’s been bent over every surface in this apartment every day the moment you get home. He’s eager to keep that streak going.

You’ll be home soon and Jeongguk doesn’t show any signs of leaving. Jimin decides to text you, letting you know the door is still unlocked, but he has company so don’t come running in while tearing your shirt off unless you want to entertain them both. He smiles when he hits send, eager for a response. It’s at this moment Jeongguk looks up at his friend, realizing he’s enamored with his phone.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Jeongguk looks crushed, sinking back into the cushion and rubbing his thumbs over the yellow plush dog Yoongi had constructed for Jimin at work. Its silky fur is comforting to Jeongguk, but not enough to soothe the ache in his heart. He fucked things up with this new teacher and he really doesn’t know how to smooth things over. Where does he even begin?

“I’m sorry,” Jimin says, quickly pocketing his phone and making sure Jeongguk knows he has his full attention. He places a hand on his knee and squeezes. “It’s okay. Just apologize to her.”

"How can I do that when every time I talk to her I can't even think straight? I mess up everything that I do when she's around," he groans, clearly resigned to his own hopelessness.

"How can you possibly mess up two words?" Jimin asks, quirking an eyebrow at his friend. He reaches for Jeongguk's jaw and begins practicing ventriloquy as he opens and closes it in time with his advice. "I'm. Sorry."

Jeongguk playfully slaps his hand away, "It's not that easy and you know it." He sighs heavily. “Besides. You know me. I already messed up an apology. ”

The smile falls from Jimin’s face. “What happened now? Don’t tell me it’s worse than the balls conversation.”

Jeongguk tents his fingers on either side of his temples and inhales deeply. On exhale he screeches, memory replaying his most recent mistake one more time.

“...That bad, huh?” He frowns, crossing the room to get him a beverage.

Jeongguk runs his fingers through his hair a few times before he snatches the banana milk from Jimin. He’s just gotta focus on something else. Anything else. He starts chugging the bottle, milk spilling from the corners of his mouth.

“Hey, slow down. I’m gonna be sick if you throw that stuff up.”

Jimin reaches for the small, plastic jug but it’s already empty by the time Jeongguk allows him to take it.

Jeongguk whimpers, “Not even banana milk can fix this.”

“Jeongguk. Tell me what happened.” It’s rare that Jimin ever gets stern with any of his friends, but sometimes they have a habit of getting in their own heads. He can pull them out by telling them what they need to hear, even if it isn’t always nice. He’s got a nagging feeling in his gut that this might be one of those times.

His friend leans back into the couch with palms pressed against his forehead. “I whipped a tennis ball across the court, but it fucking went out the door to the hall and hit her while she was walking by.”

“It was an accident!” Jimin insists.

“I know! But she! Doesn’t!” He pounds his hands into his forehead like it can knock the memory from his brain.

“Why not?” Jimin asks, suddenly suspicious. “What did you do when you realized you’d thrown something at someone? You apologized, right? Right?”

Jeongguk grits his teeth a subdued screech in his throat. “I ran over when I heard her scream and I was panicking so I just! I said ‘I’m so fucking sorry!’”

“That’s good--”

“And ‘Are you okay?!’”

“Sounds like you did fine---”

“But my brain couldn’t decide which one to say first so it merged them together! And I screamed at her!”

“Oh no.”

“Are you fucking sorry?! I screamed it Jimin. Are you fucking sorry! All of my students standing there watching me have a mental breakdown when she’s the one hurt.”

He’s practically in tears, damn near hysterical. Jimin offers a sympathetic grimace before going in for a big, comforting hug.

“Jeonggukie, it’s okay.”

“Not it’s not! I can never face her again. I can never face my students again. I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life.”

Jimin squeezes him tighter. “You’ll get through this though. You know how I know?”

“How?” The words are muffled when spoken into the crook of his neck.

Jeongguk has buried himself dangerously close to the spots you’ve been claiming for yourself. He hopes his friend doesn’t notice the red bruises you’ve left behind.

“Because. I can think of a million other things that you’ve done that are way more embarrassing than this. And you’ve lived through them all. If anything your students will see you as someone they can relate to.”

“And Frizzle?”

“You have to do something genuinely nice for her and express your sincerest apologies. Take her somewhere nice for dinner. Admit you screwed up and you want to make things better. Explain how your life is a chain of embarrassing experiences. Tell her some stories of your other fails so she doesn’t think you’re being cruel. If you can’t think of any, I can make you a list. I really do remember things you’ve done that are worse than this, you know. ”

“No! No. I guarantee I’ve blocked them out for a reason.” The black-haired man sighs. He seems to at least be comforted by the thought that the situation isn’t totally unsalvageable. He stands with a lopsided smile. “Thanks, Jiminie. I love you.”

Jimin’s mouth curls into a smile as he goes in for one more hug. “You never forget to pay me, Jeonggukie.”

Jeongguk steps across the threshold and is greeted by the very woman he’s been complaining to Jimin about for the better part of an hour. Every muscle in his body tenses and freezes in place. She’s just come out of the apartment next door. Jimin cocks his head at his friend, curiously watching the blatant change in body language.

“What is she doing here?” Jeongguk hisses at Jimin like the woman isn’t standing close enough to hear.

“Of course you’d be here. Don’t worry, Mr. Jeon, I’m on my way out, unless you’ve got something else to pile on to my hazing?”

Jeongguk clamps his mouth shut and tries to move out of her way, but she moves in the same direction. Both of them immediately try to go around, mirroring each other’s actions. This must be her. Jimin rubs his temple as he watches the awkward dance Jeongguk and “Frizzle” do as she tries to move past him. For a tall, muscular guy, Jeongguk seems to shrivel in stature the longer he stands there looking at her, stuttering out half of an apology before finally gripping her shoulders like he’s going to pick her up.

“Please let me go,” he murmurs, swallowing hard, despite the fact that he’s the one with his hands on her.

Jimin runs his fingers down his cheeks like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Jeongguk’s aloof nature seems to have been amplified tenfold by the presence of this woman, which is an impressive feat. He’s got it so bad for this girl he really can’t think straight.

Jeongguk takes a deep breath and books it down the hallway, forgetting about his friend entirely. He gets to the stairwell and hunches over the bannister to screech like a pterodactyl, hoping to release some of the anguish tearing at his chest. He sighs, composing himself as he ascends the steps, patting his pockets for the comfort of escape. His heart drops. That familiar jingle of keychains and metal is missing. “My keeeeeeys!”

It’s then he realizes he’s going to have to walk back past you in shame to collect the missing item from Jimin’s apartment. Jimin wishes he could undo all of the secondhand embarrassment he just experienced. Being that this will be burned into his memory for some time, he slinks into your apartment for a healthy dose of distraction.

The scent of cinnamon and vanilla hang in the air. You've been baking to keep yourself busy. You thought about asking your guild if anyone wanted to play online for a bit, but you really weren't in the mood for video games. You knew what to expect and yet you still find yourself disappointed by the lack of Holiday cards and letters.

Even if they don't give a shit about you, you still find your heart breaking, wishing you could know if your parents are doing okay. Maybe they're finally getting better. Maybe they're finally getting that divorce they desperately need. You whisk the batter, losing yourself in a sea of possibilities, regardless of whether it matters in the first place.

Then again, maybe they're doing better now that they don't have you around to use as a point of contention. They could be happy now that the supposed source of their misery is absent from their life. Your jaw tightens along with your grip on the mixing bowl cradled in your arms.

They probably don't think about you at all. How many times had you walked back from school alone in the dark because they forgot to pick you up? How many times had they straight up forgot you existed? They don't care. They don't even think about you. In fact, they're probably so drunk mom is passed out on the couch and dad is in a similar position in his office with a bottle of scotch and a nub of a burnt out cigarette hanging from his mouth.

You're mixing quickly, scraping loudly against the ceramic bowl in an attempt to drown out the anger in your head. It might not be enough to cover your incessant thoughts but it sure as hell camouflages Jimin's approach.

You bite your lip, white hot tears stinging the corners of your eyes. It's stupid. Why do you care so much when they obviously don't? You feel manic having the day off of work. There's too much time to think now that you don't have your customers to dote on and care for. You don't realize how slippery your fingers are now that they’re coated in a layer of sweat. The bowl slips from your hands and shatters against the floor, coating your floor and feet in a pasty splatter of dough.

“Are you okay?” Jimin asks, scooping his arms around your waist and dragging you away from the mess.

You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel his embrace pulling your backwards, voice vibrating in your ear. You stumble backwards, losing traction over the spilled batter. He’s careful to get you away from the shards of glass littering the kitchen tile as you fall.

“I thought you had work to do,” you say, embarrassed by your lack of finesse.

“I finished up early. I… knocked but you didn’t answer,” he replies, taking a moment to inspect your face.

The mixture intended for cookies haphazardly sprinkles your cheeks and your eyes are still glossy from the tears gathered in them moments ago.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concern dripping from the two simple words.

You hate making him worry so you force a counterfeit smile to split your lips. “Nothing!”

“I can tell you’re lying,” he insists, wiping your face with his fingers. “It’s okay. You can talk to me.”

You hang your head low and press into his shoulder. “I was just thinking about my family. Please. It’s not important.” Another phony smile adorns your features as you look up at him. “But I’d like it very much if you could take my mind off it.”

He offers a warm smile and decides not to press further. He knows enough of your past to know you’d rather not speak on it unless you’re the one offering information. Despite the curiosity nagging at the corners of his mind, he plants a kiss on your lips instead. “Any requests?”

“Take me away from my own brain.”

He giggles, ready to make you forget every word you’ve ever learned that’s not his name, but he pauses, briefly recalling the reason he stopped by in the first place. “Oh wait. I wanted to ask you about that.”

You half-laugh, half-scoff. “It’s okay. I’ve accepted there’s no escape.”

Jimin shakes his head at you. “No, I mean would you like to get away from here for the night? My friends and I go to Taehyung’s parents’ cabin every year on New Years Eve. It’s like a little tradition.”

You blink at him. “Oh you mean Mr. Kim--er,” you correct yourself when he cringes. “Tannie’s dad? Wouldn’t it be weird if I showed up? I don’t want to intrude… And I would feel so awkward not knowing any of your friends.”

“They’re all really laid back. They’re like an extended family. Let me tell you about them,” he suggests, twining his fingers in yours and waving your hands around. “The drive to the cabin takes a couple hours. That’s plenty of time to give you a history lesson.”

“I don’t know…”

“You know,” he begins, swiping his batter-coated finger with his tongue. “Granny says it’s good luck when you kiss someone you love on New Year’s Eve at midnight.”

You roll your eyes, fighting the cheesy grin you feel coming on. “Is that so?”

He nods enthusiastically, sparing a glance at the shards of glass and spilled batter scattered across your kitchen floor. “Besides, what better way to keep your mind off of... everything?”

The man can be subtle when he wants to be, but you still follow his line of sight to the mess creeping down the slight slope in the tile.

“I have to sweep this up,” you mumble, ignoring giving him a finite answer as you cross the room to gather cleaning supplies.

There’s a protest caught in his throat that dies the moment you bend over to search for the dustpan in the closet. He saunters over, licking his lips and letting his fingers dig into the soft flesh at your hips. Your eyes go wide as his length presses against your ass, already half hard. He offers a playful thrust as a joke, but if you drop your pants then the joke part of that thrust is totally cancelled. You sigh loudly and arch your back, slowly rising to looking over your shoulder at him. He swears time stops for a moment as half-lidded eyes chant his name without you saying a word.

“I really have to clean this up. It’s wet. The-The spot on the floor is wet.” You stumble over raspy and frantic words, all the moisture missing from your mouth. He tests your resolve by sneaking a finger below the band of your jeans, skirting his digits just outside of your underwear before pressing the silky fabric into your clit. With just a few slow circles, he has you moaning and weakly leaning back against him for support.

“You’re right. It’s a little wet. I should help you clean this up, don’t you think?” His breath is hot against your neck as he dips his hand lower, sneaking along your pantyline before pushing the barrier aside to dive in your cunt without warning.

You’re practically melting as he pumps his fingers into you, tongue dragging over your neck in a teasing swipe. It takes all of your willpower, but you grip his forearm with a groan. “You’re evil.”

“I’m Charming,” he insists with a grin, complying with your unspoken request to abandon his endeavors.

“I need to clean this before it gets in every last crack.”

Jimin opens his mouth to say something crass but gets distracted by your smiley kiss.

“We’ll get to that later. Go. Sit over there,” you instruct, pointing to the empty chairs on the other side of the bar-style counter.

He sulks over to the counter and sits with a huff, planting his elbows on the edge and resting his cheeks on the flat surface of his palms. It’s hard to ignore his bottom lip protruding in a pout as you get to work cleaning the mess you’ve stupidly made. Hard, but not impossible.

When it’s clear you’re ignoring him, he sits up straight and folds his arms over his chest, a puff of air passing his lips as he takes in his surroundings. Suddenly, his eyes zone in on the familiar form of a package containing delicious pastries only made in one shop.

“Mistledough? You went to Mistledough?” he asks excitedly. You must have met Jin, if that’s the case.

You laugh, “Oh yeah. I stopped in to get some baked treats for the pups a couple weeks ago and this smooth-talking guy comes out from the back with a big smile. His shoulders are so big and his waist is so tiny that he looks like a dorito. Right? Anyway he’s doing this whole bit about how good this stuff is and how happy he gets when pretty girls come into his shop to order it. He definitely knows how to advertise because I bought a whole package of them without even trying it first. It’s… so good though. Have you ever had it? What I have now might be a little stale, but I’m sure it’s still fine to eat. Do you want some?”

You poke your head above the counter to see Jimin’s arms crossed over his chest. He isn’t looking at you but he definitely looks annoyed. Is he seriously still pouting because he has to wait ten whole minutes to put his fingers back in you?

“No,” he pouts quietly, entire demeanor flip-flopped in an instant. “I don’t want any. I know what it tastes like.

You frown, thinking maybe it’s something you said. “Do you not like that place?”

Jimin puffs his cheeks out and removes the thick black frames from his face to clean them with his shirt. “No, that place is fine.”

Anxiety races in your chest, heart snapping in two at the sound of his cold tone. “I’m sorry,” you say, gripping the dustpan tightly like he’s going to break things off. “Is it… Did I do something wrong?”

He catches your eyes, immediately filling his gut with guilt. “Ah, no, no. I’m sorry.” He licks his lips and rolls his eyes away, not wanting to look at you when he admits this. “It’s just… That handsome, wide-shouldered guy... That’s Seokjin. He’s my friend, but--Ah the way you talked about him just now, I got jealous. I’m sorry.”

Relief washes over you like a tidal wave. You cock your head to one side and stand to lean over the counter. No one’s ever been jealous of you before, or in regards to you; it’s kind of baffling that you don’t have the brain capacity to be flattered. “Jealous? Why?”

He spares a look at you and darts his eyes away. “Because.” He sighs loudly and slinks back in his chair. “He’s tall and those big shoulders let everyone know how strong he is. People can look at him and say wow, that guy is so handsome. He just… exudes manliness. Do you know what people say about me?”

The slow blink and the way he swallows tells you that he’s having trouble expressing the distasteful things he must have heard over the years.

“Jimin.” Your fingers grip his chin. “Nevermind what people say. They don’t matter. Do they?”

You tilt your head, trying to get him to look at you, gaze remaining steady on his eyes until he meets it.

“No…”

“You matter. But you’re hard on yourself. Do I matter?”

“Yes…” he breathes, offended that you’d even ask such a question.

“Well then you should listen to me. I’ll tell you what I think. I think you’re sweet and cute. I think you’re sexy and fun. I think I love the beauty of your soul as much as I love your handsome face. I think your height is not a measure of your worth and I’m not sure why it’s important to you, but I will hug you all day every day to remind you that you’re the perfect height to always bury your face in my tits.”

He laughs, visibly relaxing despite the blush creeping in his cheeks. “You’re good to me.”

“I think,” you continue, suddenly feeling shy yourself. “You don’t have anything to be jealous about. This world only has one Jimin. One who is perfect as himself. And I care about him so much that I want to go with him to a cabin where I won’t know anyone because when he’s around, my heart hurts less and the world feels less cold and when I’m with him, despite my paranoia and concerns about being murdered... he makes me feel safe. I love him.”

He smiles sweetly, leaning in to plant a kiss on your lips. “Who’s that Jimin? He sounds amazing. But I’ll have to teach him a lesson for stealing your affection.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head, nuzzling your nose close to his. “You dork.”

“You’re coming with me then?”

“It’s a date, my prince,” you reply with a grin.

“Thank goodness. I already cancelled my ride.”

The snow whips against your windshield wipers. Heat blares through the vents, the radio playing softly in the background. Jimin looks over at you, placing his hand on your thigh. You smile, giving it a firm squeeze and pressing it to your lips while your eyes squint through the blinding white obscuring the road.

“Do you see a sign to get back on the highway?” you ask, trying to bite back the anxiety brewing in your belly.

The “EXIT ONLY” sign responsible for your detour had been obscured by the heavy snowfall. Being that the inclement weather has put you in an unfamiliar area, you’re hopeful that the poorly plowed backroads are a short-lived side trip.

“Don’t worry. There has to be a way to get back on,” he assures you, giving your fingers a squeeze as he squints out the passenger side window. “Oh! That sign says there’s a gas station ahead. Maybe we could ask in there?”

You eye the instrument panel of your dashboard. The needle indicating the fuel level of your tank hovers two lines above “E.” You promptly go back to watching the road, wind whipping snow off nearby trees. You’re taking it slow as you come around a curve, but your tires spin when they hit a patch of ice.

“Oh shit!” Releasing his fingers, you throw your arm up to shield Jimin’s chest as do your best to turn your steering wheel into the skid as the vehicle veers off the side of the road.

The car makes a skewed slide to the shoulder of the road and continues to glide onto the snow-covered grass, coming to a complete stop before hitting any of the nearby trees. You exhale a ragged breath and look over at Jimin.

“Are you okay?”

He nods, carding his fingers through his hair. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” Your response is sturdy, composed, but its foundation is a lie that could come crumbling down at any moment. Shaky fingers reach over to click the hazard button in the unlikely event that anyone else drives by. You haven’t seen another car in over twenty minutes, but it’s still best to err on the side of caution.

“Just icy. Gas station?” you ask, trying to get your bearings. You don’t think the car did a 180 but you’re a little shaken up and could use a break.

Jimin points in the direction the sign indicated. “Not too far, I think. Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nod silently, checking your surroundings as you attempt to back up. The wheels beneath the car spin in endless cycles, bringing you nowhere. You swallow hard, turning the wheel in the opposite direction and trying again as you apply more force to the gas pedal. When the car doesn’t budge, you fear the worst and place it in park. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you slip on a pair of thin gloves and open the door to inspect the terrain.

With your first step outside your stomach drops with your legs on the slippery surface below your boots. You clutch the door but it’s too late; your legs split and you fall to the ground with a painful smack. You can’t help the pained whimper that spills out of your mouth in short, embarrassing bursts. You’ll be fine. You just need a minute.

“Snow! Are you okay?” Hearing your cries, Jimin quickly dons his mittens and gets out of the car.

As soon as he rounds the front of the car, passing the light on the driver’s side, his boots lose all traction. He stumbles forward a bit, trying to regain his footing before his legs finally slip from beneath him. The impact his ass makes on the ground beside you makes you wince. He grimaces, sucking air through his teeth as he leans back. Even still, he reaches out and touches your cheek with a puffy red mitten, opening his mouth to ask if you’re okay but not able to manage anything other than a broken groan.

You look up at him as he leans over you, feeling the fingers trapped beneath the fuzzy mitten at your cheek. Suddenly you start to giggle. Despite not knowing the source, seeing your amusement causes the groan in his throat to transform into a breathless laugh.

“We really are messes, huh?” you say, pulling down on the red scarf adorning his shoulders to bring him down to meet your lips.

His mouth is hot, leaving behind breathy vapors in the air as he sucks your bottom lip, turning the innocent nature of the kiss into something more passionate. Before your brain can register the action, his tongue already propping your mouth open. If the wind wasn’t whipping snow on your exposed cheeks, he might have been able to keep you warm and make you forget your surroundings completely.

Reluctantly you push him back. “Jimin we have to get up. What if another car comes and rear ends us? We would die.”

He sighs, wincing as he struggles to stand on the slippery surface. “Okay, but be careful getting up.”

He circles the car, inspecting for any signs of damage as you crawl on hands and knees towards the front of the car. Placing your cheek on the ground you look beneath to see if anything might be caught underneath. When you both come up empty, you carefully get back in the car.

Jimin looks over at you suddenly, an expression of realization coating his features. “Did you turn traction control off?”

You slowly close your eyes and run cold, wet gloved fingers down your face. “I’m an idiot. I should have thought of that.”

Jimin shrugs and kisses your cheek with a proud smile. “I just passed my driver’s test so it’s all fresh in my mind.”

Before long, you’re back on the road and rolling up to a pump at the gas station. Jimin disappears inside while you work on filling the tank. It’s filling painfully slowly so you start playing with the layer of snow on the top lip of the pump. You begin to gather snow, picking some from the ground and rolling it around to form a tiny, perfect snowball.

The bell on the door jingles as Jimin exits, a look of concentration on his face as he looks up and down the road beside the lot. An abrupt wave of cold shocks his system as a snowball disintegrates against his chin. He looks around for the culprit, but the only person in the parking lot is you. He blinks a few times, realizing you’re cackling like a witch as you screw the cap back on your tank.

Instead of forming his own snowball to throw back, his bottom lip protrudes in a pout and he puffs up like a bird who’s had their feathers ruffled one too many times. He must still be sore from falling. You start to feel guilty and start to apologize as he draws near, pulling him into an embrace. He leans into you, walking you back until you’re pressed against the car. You blush, feeling the weight of his body trapping you as he pushes his mouth onto yours. He removes a glove to fist your hair between his fingers and gives a sharp tug. Once again, he takes the warmth you offer and turns the heat up. Is this what he’s like when he’s annoyed and horny? You’ll remember to be bratty if this is what it earns you.

You pull back a moment, searching the darkness in his eyes for the need buried in them. Pulling his scarf aside, you latch onto his neck with the heat of your mouth, making sure to suck and tease the spot you know drives him crazy. You feel him lean into you with a moan as he swipes his hand erratically over your car. Feeling pleased with yourself, you grind your hips up into him.

You don’t see the snow he’s gathered into a pile on the top of your car, but you sure as hell feel it when swipes it all over the edge with one hand and holds the collar of your coat open with the other. The snow transforms into water almost immediately, leaving icy trails down your back and soaking into your clothes.

You screech against him just as he takes off running across the parking lot, giggling like a madman. He played you. You wiggle what snow you can out of your coat and give chase, gathering snow in your hands as you go. He holds his hands up as if to surrender and repeating a slew of “sorry”s, but something about the way he’s laughing the whole time makes it feel a bit disingenuous. Soft snowballs smash against his legs. You wish you had better aim.

As you move to gather more snow, he’s already firing off the ammunition he’s secretly gathered, pelting your coat with white. Running up to him through the barrage, you find he’s empty and he puts his hands out again. Seeing the snowbank behind him, you push him back into it, allowing a cushion of cold to break his fall. The melody of his laughter rings through your ears as your climb on top of him and sprinkle what’s left of your fistful of powdery snow all over his face.

You’re both laughing so hard you’re crying. After taking a moment to calm his laughter, he sits up on his elbows and removes a loop from the scarf at his neck to drape it around yours.

“Come on. Let’s get to the cabin so we can warm up.”

You wet your lips, the cold immediately freezing your spit. “What you’re not warm?”

“You pushed me into the snow. I’m cold,” he whines.

“You covered me in white,” you say, not thinking about the words until they’re out.

Jimin quirks an eyebrow with a knowing smile. “I thought you liked that. You were begging for it yesterday, weren’t you?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“You’re friends with Hope on the Street? J-Hope? Really?” you ask in disbelief. The guy is somewhat of a celebrity so it’s a little unnerving knowing he’s going to be at this cabin. The segment he did on puppies recently really brightened up your day.

“His real name is Hoseok,” Jimin says with a nod, crunching into a potato chip. “He also goes by Hobi.”

You can’t stop yourself from asking. “That whole dildo thing everyone says? Is it true?”

Jimin coughs out the chip he had been chewing and you immediately apologize, but he laughs. “What have you heard? I’m not much of a gossip.”

You shake your head defensively. “I’m not either! It’s just… There are so many rumors. I’ve heard it was a vibrator, cucumber, a cordless mic… And it’s always an absurd length, like twelve inches or something like that.”

Jimin laughs so hard he snorts. “Oh my god. No! Okay, I’m going to tell you the truth, but you can’t tell anyone I told you, okay?”

“...Okay,” you agree, not realizing the pit you’ve fallen into.

“If you promise you won’t tell…” he trails, looking out the window.

“I pinky promise,” you say as you stick out your little finger. You’re too curious now. You have to know.

“Don’t let on that you know, either,” he continues as he links his pinky with yours and looks over at you. “Promise?”

Your eyes dart over to his for a split second before focusing back on the road. “I promise, my prince.”

He smiles, taking the opportunity to hold your hand while he talks. “Hmm. By the time we get there hopefully you’ll feel like you know them a little. I’ve told you some pretty tame stories so far but… The truth is that we’ve all known each other since we were kids. So I know all of their dirty laundry.”

He wiggles his eyebrows at you even though you can’t pay attention to his suggestive facial expressions. Why do you feel like you’re getting more than you bargained for?

“You’re such a dork. Just tell me about J-H--Hoseok.”

“So impatient,” he teases with a sigh. “I mean honestly it’s not that bad. Hoseok and his girlfriend, Cat, have been together for a while now. They were… experimenting in the bedroom together. The dildo they were using was pretty small and she lost her grip on it. That’s really all there is to it. Someone must have heard him talking to the nurses.”

That makes total sense. Of course everything gets blown out of proportion. Poor guy.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t let it get to him at all. He keeps a smile on and can talk around pretty much everything. But when you put him with Cat, together? They have no shame and if you’re not careful they’ll drag you into their filthy games.”

“Have they dragged you into them, Jimin?” you ask with a smile, genuinely curious with a side pang of envy. Whoever is dating someone as fine as J-Hope must be hot as hell. Just imagining Jimin being thrown into that mix has you salivating, wishing you could have been the meat in that sandwich instead.

“Maybe,” he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “B-But that was a long time ago.”

“Too bad,” you suck your teeth. “Sounds like it could be fun.”

Jimin’s eyes go wide and he swallows a nervous laugh, not wanting to accept the possibility so easily if it was only meant as a joke. “I mean if you’re interested I can always ask if they might want to.”

You laugh nervously, not expecting that possibility. “I… haha, let me meet them first. They might hate me for all you know. I tend to talk when I get nervous and then mess everything up.”

“It’s part of your charm. You’re cute when you get shy. You have this… innocence that’s endearing. They’ll love you. You’d probably be their new favorite... toy...” he trails off into a breathy whisper, losing himself in some daydream.

“Are you sure you won’t get jealous?” you ask, snapping him back to reality. “Mistledough man had you so moody.”

“Ah, Seokjin. You know, I once caught him jerking it to a muffin.”

You blink a few times. “Seokjin is the bakery dorito,” you affirm, keeping your eyes on the highway. “And you caught him jacking it … Jimin. Tell me mistledough is cum-free.”

He laughs. “Seokjin would never. Don’t worry. It wasn’t at the bakery.”

“But… why…?”

“I don’t know. I never received any context for it and I was too afraid to ask. Honestly, I think it’s his messed up relationship with his ‘not girlfriend.’” He uses air quotes to signify his distaste for the situation. “Pumpkin. At least he calls her that. Everyone else calls her Grump.”

“Oof. She a bitch?”

“If you were at the shop, you must have seen her.”

You pause to recall the day you’d stopped in. “There was this one girl that was staring at me but I figured it might be someone I knew from high school so I avoided eye contact. Got this chill down my spine though.”

“Yeah that’s her. She’s a little rough around the edges, but she’s secretly soft on the inside. She just needs time to warm up to people. I think she has a hard time showing affection. We’ve all known her almost as long as we’ve known each other. She just needs to get laid. Scratch that. She needs to get laid by Jin. They’ve been dancing around it for over a decade, Snow. Imagine if you and I never… for over ten years.”

You exhale air through puffed cheeks. “I’d have moved on after two. You’re lucky you made a move when you did.” You give his hand a playful squeeze. “Why haven’t they yet?”

“They’ve both been in love with each other for so long I think they’re blinded by it now,” he guesses with a shrug. “They’re so in love that they can’t even see it anymore. Maybe they never did. But there’s always this air of jealousy that makes it impossible for either of them to be happy with anyone else. I should probably sit them both down and talk them through it, but sometimes Seokjin… Ah, he closes his ears to anything he doesn’t like. Maybe this year will be different. She always comes so if you think she’s glaring at you, she probably is, but don’t take it personal.”

You nod in quiet contemplation for a moment before moving on. “Tannie’s dad?”

“Ah. Taehyung. He’s probably my closest friend. Don’t tell the others. Him and Star have been together since college and are so perfect for each other it makes my heart ache. They’re really… unique. It’s okay if you think they’re weird because they are. But that’s their charm. They listen to really old records and wear vintage clothes and talk about art all the time. It used to make me cringe at first but now it makes me happy. It’s probably because I don’t live with him anymore.”

You spare a curious glance at him “You lived with him?”

“Roommates right after high school. Before he went off to art school and got his degree. Then I went off to uni for business and marketing.”

“Ah, right. College. That thing that most people do after highschool. I’m dumb.”

Jimin frowns, knowing it’s a sore subject for you. “You’re not dumb. Be nice to yourself. It’s not your fault you never got a chance to go.”

Your fingers grip the steering wheel tightly, enough so your knuckles pale. “I know I’m not dumb. I could have been a vet by now. I was smart enough for it. I could have done it.”

He reaches out to place a reassuring palm on your shoulder. “You can still go back, you know.”

You shake your head, swallowing the bitter pill that you missed your chance for that kind of life. Things are different now. You like your job. You like your life. You don’t need to use schooling as an escape from your home. Maybe it’s time to let go of the resentment. You can still be smart and not go to college. You can still enjoy a job that doesn’t require a degree.

“I need to work on not being so bitter about my past,” you answer with a shake of your head. “I like where I am now and if I don’t, I can always change. Thank you for helping me remember that. So.. where were we? Taehyung?”

“Ah, I caught him sucking on her toes once,” he says very matter-of-factly.

“What?!”

“When he moved out and told me about his roommate, I thought he’d be living with another man. He invited me over to meet them. Imagine my surprise when I came by. The door to his room was wide open and he’s sitting there licking up the bottom of her foot, putting her toes in his mouth.”

“What did they do when they saw you standing there?” you purse your lips, wondering if Jimin had been a part of this couple’s sex life as well.

“Oh, they tried to laugh and play it off like ‘Oh no we were messing around... it’s not like that... Why would be doing something like that? Da da da.’ All the excuses, you know? But I saw it and I can’t unsee it. He had a boner and she looked like she was enjoying it.” He shakes his head.

“I still think it’s funny you know him. He pampers Tannie. A lot. Like he spends an absurd amount on that dog. He loves him so much. It’s so cute. Wait… Does that mean you know other Mr. Kim? Moni’s dad?”

Jimin looks over. “You know Namjoon too?”

“This isn’t so bad. I’ve at least seen these people,” you say, mostly to yourself as a comforting thought. “Actually, I gave him a dog treat for Moni and he just… Jimin, he ate it right in front of me. I didn’t know what to do so I just smiled.”

Jimin start roaring with laughter. “That sounds like Namjoonie. At least that was edible. I watched him drink perfume once. He said it smelled so good he wanted to see what it tasted like. I’m not sure how drunk he was, but he had to be pretty far gone. You know he’s really intelligent, but he makes some really bad decisions. He will deny this until the day he dies, but I was there for his ‘bad boy’ phase back in high school. He purposefully failed classes because he thought it made him look cooler and he’d always brag about blowing off dates with girls and pretending to be a loner. Not to mention he always wore some kind of black t-shirt with a fake deep quote on it, he had a leather jacket, painted his fingernails black, had a mohawk...”

“Really? That guy? Did he have a motorcycle too?” you snicker. “That would really sell it for me.”

“He may have painted blue flames on the side of his bicycle,” he jokes. “Do I have to worry about him stealing you too?”

You roll your eyes. “Tell me about another one and I’ll tell you who’s the most dangerous. Right now, you’re still winning.”

“Yoongi looks the most intimidating. He looks like a bad boy, covered in tattoos and piercings. He even has his dick pierced. I’ve seen it. Yes, it looks painful. People say he comes off as cold, but he’s really not.”

“Like Grump?”

“Hmmmm… Different. Have you ever heard of Inkspires? It’s the tattoo shop across town.”

You think for a moment. It’s not like you live in a big city, but you’re not sure you’ve ever had a reason to go to such a place. You rack your brain trying to think of the place he’s talking about. When you shake your head, he seems a little sad.

“Don’t worry. You’ll know them once I’m done. I’m working on rebranding them. Pro bono. I’m working to make it something everyone will recognize. Jisoo’s got a lot of ideas and I’m excited to bring them to life. It will take some time, but I think it will be worth it.” He smiles. “I think he might be bringing his new girlfriend. What did he call her? Plum? Melons?” He snaps his fingers. “Ah, Peaches.”

“Peaches?”

Jimin shrugs. “They started dating recently. I don’t have all the details yet. It’s kind of a big deal. He usually doesn’t bring a date. He usually doesn’t date. And unless something has changed-- which I don’t think it has-- he's still a virgin.”

Your mouth falls open. “Really? How? I mean, that’s kind of impressive, honestly. The world is so busy trying to sell sex. How do you keep away from it?”

Jimin shakes his head. “Trust me, I know. My whole business is embedded in it. I guess he’s never had anyone he really wanted to share the experience with. I told you, he’s a real soft-hearted guy. He works part time at Construct-a-Cub during the holidays. He donates a lot of stuff to charities for children.”

“Wow. He sounds like a really good person,” you say, genuinely stunned by the kindness people can show.

“Don’t be fooled. He’ll tell you he hates kids. Secret softie. But similar to Grump, if you think he’s being cold, he’s probably just wary. Give him time and he’ll warm up to you. Keep an open mind. And don’t judge a book by its cover.”

You nod. “Of course.”

“He’s the one who actually did my tattoo and piercings.”

“I meant to ask about those…”

“Tae, Guk, and I decided we were all gonna get them right after college. Kind of a celebration pact type thing. Tae chickened out after watching us go and since he already paid for it, Star ended up getting hers done in his place.”

“Ouch,” you hiss through your teeth, mentally conjuring the level of endurance that might take.

“It really wasn’t that bad.” He laughs. “I was surprised by how little it hurt compared to what I imagined.”

“Did you watch?”

“Hmm?”

“Star getting hers done.”

Jimin licks his lips and stares out the window with a shy smile. “Yoongi offered to kick everyone out, but she insisted we stay. Tae didn’t talk to us for a week. He’s a baby sometimes. He knows she only has eyes for him. I think she’s an exhibitionist. Don’t be surprised if you catch her walking around naked.”

You hold back a snort with a pang of irrational jealousy. “What? For real?”

“I’m joking. Kind of. She’s soft and sweet and as a couple they’re pretty reserved. But I’ve heard them competing with Cat and Hobi for loudest cabin sex.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “And I guess that just leaves Jeongguk. Where do I start? He keeps humiliating himself in front of his coworker. He’s got a big crush on her but his brain just melts any time he’s close to her. For instance, he started going on about how heavy it is to carry around his balls. He kind of put his foot in his mouth, since he was talking about soccer balls. You know, he kind of reminds me of you. Almost like you’re related.”

“Jimin!” You choke on your own spit, trying to focus on the lines separating the lanes.

Jimin raises his eyebrows, feigning innocence. “What?”

“How did you know?”

“Well, it’s pretty boring actually. After I came out of your apartment covered in your juices, he accused me of eating someone’s pussy. I showed him a picture of you and he told me you guys are cousins.”

“Okay forget I asked. Please don’t say any more,” you plead, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “I can’t believe this shit. Why are you friends with my cousin?... That means… That Taehyung… oh fuck. I’ve been playing video games with Mr. Kim for years. Oh god. I’ve been talking about you to both of them in-game. Oh god, this is so weird. Let’s go back to when I didn’t know my cousin has been friends with my boyfriend for literal years. Our town is small, but how fucking small is the world when I moved from the city and I’m still dating my cousin’s friend?”

Jimin smiles. “It doesn’t bother me. Does it really bother you? He’s happy for you.”

You bite your lip. “It’s just weird. I’ll need to adjust to the fact that you two know each other at all. Oh my god. I should have known. In-game. He named his pet Tannie. God, I’m so stupid!”

After a minute of listening to the soft sounds of the radio, he looks over and asks, “Am I still winning?”

“I don’t know. Yoongi’s sounding pretty sweet right now.”

He gasps, acting surprised by your answer. “No,” he whines.

You twine his fingers in yours and bring them to your lips. “Don’t worry. I’m yours and yours only. I belong to one charming, snake of a prince. What are your secrets anyway?”

“You really want to know?”

You cock your head to one side and spare a fleeting glance at him. “Spill ‘em.”

“You have to promise not to tell.”

You smile, seeing the exit you need to take quickly approaching. “If you tell me I’ll wrap these lips around your cock when we get there. Wherever you want.”

“...That’s not a promise, Snow.”

“I guarantee you it is.”

You shiver as Jimin wraps his arms around you, sinking his chin into the crook of your shoulder. A heavy sigh reverberates against your ear as he presses his hardening length into your ass. “So?”

“So what?”

“Not too awkward right?” he confirms, holding your waist and swaying back and forth.

“Yeah, I almost forgot my cousin showed up with my bestie. Definitely don’t want to be around to hear them go at it. I really don’t need that image in my head. How far is our room from theirs?” you ask, reaching behind you to run your fingers across his pants in the place he needs you most.

He inhales deeply and purses his lips for a moment. “I don’t know. We change it up every year. First come...” He hikes your dress up and slides his hand over your thigh, teasing the sensitive bud beneath your panties. “First served.”

You groan as he licks a line from your collarbone to your ear.

“What do you think? Now that we’ve had dinner, can I have dessert?”

You shiver and turn your face to give him a quick peck.

“Mmm I don’t know. Maybe I want dessert,” you counter, licking your lips and sparing a glance down to the place your fingers are massaging.

A whine rumbles up and out of his throat as his hands roam the exterior of your dress, gliding up your sides until he’s cupping your breasts in his palms. “You make this dress look good.”

Deft fingers play with the button on the back of your neck, making quick work of the zipper concealed beneath. The fabric of your party dress falls away from your body and pools around your feet. “But it looks better on the floor.”

He doesn’t give you time to ruminate on how exposed you feel. He’s already spinning you around and pushing you towards the guest bed you’ll be sharing for the night. As you fall back against the cold comforter, he’s working the buttons off his shirt. Not fast enough. You’ve been wanting this all day. The notches on his belt are so small the buckle gets stuck; you nearly snap the metal with how quick your fingers are moving. He offers a surprised gasp as you drag his boxers down with his pants, thick cock springing free from its confines

You pump him with your hand once before taking him in your mouth. His hands, which had been fumbling with the last button on his shirt, fist in your hair as you bob up and down over his shaft. It takes all his restraint, but he tightens his grip with a moan and pulls you off him. You give him a confused pout, trying to move your mouth close enough to take him back in. He allows you to move forward just a little, your lips ghosting over the tip before he yanks your hair to force you to behave.

“You said it could be wherever I choose,” he murmurs, losing himself in the way you’re flicking your tongue out in attempts to coax him back into your mouth.

“So where do you want me, baby?” You want him so bad. You need him. And from the way he allows you to brush your lips against him again, he feels the same. You lick your lips in anticipation, causing a shiver to wrack his body as it passes over every sensitive nerve ending on the head of his throbbing cock. “Please.”

With just a word, he allows you to take the tip in your mouth, tongue gliding across every last bit you’ll give. He bites his lip hard and reluctantly shakes his head, pulling you back again. “Not yet. I want to make you sing first.”

“What am I singing?” you confusedly ask, knowing full well you’re probably tone-deaf. But you’ll do anything he requests if he’ll let you suck his dick without being a total tease.

He giggles, watching the desperation in your eyes cloud your understanding. Leaning down, he presses his lips to yours and slips his tongue between them, tasting the faint traces of himself left behind.

“Sing my name,” he pleads between open-mouthed kisses, hands sliding around to cup your jaw. “It sounds like heaven spilling from your lips.”

He pulls back long enough for your eyes to flutter open and see the love coursing through every last bit of his soul. He reaches down and splays his hands over your hips, thumbs curling around the band of your red panties before working them down your thighs in a playful wiggle. You pop open the last button on his shirt as he plunges a finger into you.

“You’ll ruin your shirt if you don’t take it off now,” you say, a not so subtle attempt to get him to remove it so there’s only skin touching skin.

He rolls his eyes, shaking the fabric from his arms. “Take your bra off for me?”

You discard the undergarment quicker than his shirt can fall to the floor, pulling his body down on top of you so you can feel that closeness you’ve grown accustomed to sharing.

“Jimin, I want you,” you whimper, running your fingers through his hair as he clamps his mouth down on your neck. That elicits a moan from him against your throat as he sucks a line of kisses down to a softened nipple.

“Yours would look good pierced,” he comments, squeezing both with his fingers before moving his hands to massage the flesh surrounding them.

“I’m good,” you laugh, watching the fascination in his eyes as your nipples pebble at the loss of the pleasurable pressure.

He hums a sound of indifference, pushing your tits together and burying his face between them. He’s sure to dip his tongue in the cleavage he’s created for his own benefit.

“Get up here. I miss you,” you whine, twining your fingers in his hair and guiding him back towards your mouth.

His mouth hungrily crashes down on yours and has you gasping for more in seconds. “Please… fuck.” He sucks your bottom lip through his teeth. “Jimin, please fuck me.”

His breath is haggard on inhale as he allows your lip to snap back to you. “But I haven’t even made you cum yet. What kind of boyfriend would I be?”

You take his hand and direct it to the slick, sticky juices coating your sex. “An amazing one. You make me wet without even trying.”

Jimin gasps, sliding two fingers past your lips and filling your pussy just to be sure you could take him. He pops his fingers out of you and brings them to his mouth, rutting the tip of his dick against your clit. Your body spasms as he rubs the entirety of his shaft against you. He grins when you lock your arms around his back and dig your fingernails into his muscles.

“You sure you don’t want me to make you cum first?” he offers again with a roll of his hips.

“I want your cock inside me now,” you whisper in a low, raspy tone, hot breath tickling his ear.

His hips stutter as he draws his pelvis back and you feel his tip teasing the heat of your entrance. When he pauses, you roll your hips beneath him, enticing him to continue his journey as the head circles your labia. Unable to exert any more self control, he sinks into you in a slow descent until he’s buried in you to the hilt. You both let out a held breath and moan against each other pitifully.

“Shit! Sorry!” Suddenly he pulls out and scrambles off of you like you’re made of lava, crossing the room and rifling through his bag. When he turns around, he's tearing the condom wrapper with his teeth, a sight you’ve grown so accustomed to seeing you should have known you were skipping a step.

“At least you remembered,” you sigh, getting into a comfortable position against the pillows. “I probably would have let you cum in me.”

“Now you tell me,” he jokes, dragging the condom down his shaft with ease.

“This isn’t the olden days, you know. Women have birth control,” you tease, spreading your legs and rubbing circles into your clit as he climbs on top of you.

“Oh so you want me to rip this condom off and fill you with my cum? Watch it drip down your leg when we join everyone at midnight?”

The thought turns you on more than it should. You increase the speed and pressure of your fingers against your clit. “Yes…” you whine.

He leans back on his knees as he slots himself between your legs, pressing his sheathed cock into you as you touch yourself for him.

“You want everyone to know you’re mine, don’t you?” he asks, thrusting himself up into you at a steady pace.

“Yes, Jimin…”

“All that sweetness. That innocence. You want everyone to see what a bad girl you really are. You want to show off for them, show them your pretty pussy. Full of my cum. Don’t you?”

You’re so fucking close. Everything he says is just getting you more worked up and you whimper, nodding like you’re a bobblehead without a brain.

“Say it, Snow,” he demands, slowing his pumps to a stop.

“Please,” you beg, desperately wiggling your hips to feel him again. “Please fuck me. I want you to show everyone how well you fill this tight pussy.”

“Oh, that’s it baby. Touch yourself for me. You getting off thinking about that?” He grunts as he resumes fucking himself into you, slinging your legs over his shoulders to hit deeper without hindering your ability to touch yourself. “I want you to tell me. Tell me who owns this fucking pussy.”

You clench around his cock, not used to hearing such filth come from his mouth.“This pussy is yours, Jimin. Use me like your little fuck toy.”

He tenses, throbbing inside you as he growls,“Tell me you’re my cumslut.”

With one hand pressing circles into your clit and the other squeezing your breast, you search his face, hoping to find yourself in it. You’re so far gone you can’t even register the lewd sounds of pleasure spewing from your mouth.

“Use your words. You can do it,” he whispers, beaming with pride.

“I’m... your cumslut,” you whisper between frenzied panting. “Fuck. Jimin. I’m close.”

He slows his pace, bending himself over you to move in for a messy kiss. “Such a good girl, my little cumslut. Squeezing my cock with that tight pussy… Want me to fuck you raw, don’t you?”

“Fuck. Yes. Fuck me raw baby. You feel so fucking good. I want you to cum inside me,” you confess loudly, not caring who might hear. “Take it off, baby. I want you to fill this pussy. Leave me dripping...”

His mouth comes crashing down on yours again, muffling the sounds of your obscene begging. “That’s too bad. Because I’m gonna fill that pretty, filthy little mouth instead.”

Your climax hits you faster than you can vocalize it. “I’m…”

You gush around the cock pistoning into you and when he feels your walls clamp down, he stays inside to subject himself to the delicious torture of every twitch and pulse you deliver.

“That’s it, princess. Good girl,” he whispers, sweetness in his voice returning.

His forehead drops against yours and he rides out your high with you, pressing his lips to yours until your hands fall limp against the mattress.

“That was…” you pause, heavy breaths mingling with his. “...amazing.”

“You still want dessert?” he questions with a grin.

“Finally. Give it to me,” you plead, kissing his lips again and again.

“Not here,” he whispers, a devilish smile gracing his features.

The water is warm and inviting. The bubbles bursting from the jets below offer pressure in all the right spots in all the right ways. How he had convinced you to enter the jacuzzi with him completely naked is beyond you. You’re terrified someone might walk in, but he assures you everyone is lost in their own world.

You lean forward, pressing your tits together as he positions his dick between them and starts with lazy thrusts. You stare up at his fucked out expression, savoring the way his jaw hangs open as he watches his cock slip between your wet breasts. A shy smile crosses your face when you realize he’s looking in your eyes rather than at the lewd act of his shaft sliding between two perfect mounds. He’s lost, a disoriented smile setting up camp in the corners of his mouth.

You look down and stick your tongue out to brush the head of his cock every time it comes up towards your face. He slots his fingers in your hair, curling strands into his fist.

“Do you want to fuck my throat?”

He nods weakly, guiding you back against the seat of the jacuzzi. You pump your fist over his cock a few times as he towers over you. Relaxing your jaw, you take him to the base, tongue wiggling against his balls. He loses his footing for a moment, slipping against the bottom of the hot tub.

“Maybe you should sit down,” you suggest, his dick coming out of your mouth with a loud pop.

“Can you hold your breath for that long?” He sounds unsure, even as he’s settling in the space across from you.

“Think of it as an edging session,” you giggle, taking a deep breath and submerging yourself in the water.

When he feels you take him into your mouth again, his jaw goes slack as he stretches out his arms across the side of the hot tub and tilts his head back.

“Hey, did you come alone?” Hobi’s voice breaks his moment of peace.

Jimin panics, hands diving into the water to keep your head beneath the surface. Hopefully the bubbles from the jets will obscure your form. He wracks his brain, trying to think of something to say as he stares blankly at Hoseok and Cat, who are now standing in the doorway with eyebrows raised.

You grip his legs and fight against his hands, shooting up from the water with the grace of someone who just got a bunch of water up their nose and nearly drowned. You cough and sputter, swiping water from your eyes as you see two figures standing in the doorway. Recognizing one as J-Hope, your heart sinks. Jimin mentioned he was running late when he didn’t show up for dinner.

This is how you meet Hope on the Street. Of course it is.

The hot chick next to him must be his girlfriend. Realizing you’re completely nude, you sink down in the water to your chin and smile as sweetly as you can.

“Hi, you must be Hoseok and Cat! Jimin’s told me so much about you.”

Hoseok sputters, laughing with his mouth wide open. You recoil at the sound, wishing the jacuzzi would melt your bones and just leave you to live your life as a puddle from now on.

Cat lightly smacks him in the shoulder. “Yeah, that’s us. We’ll hang out later, give you guys some space. Sorry!”

She shoves her boyfriend through the door, leaving you alone with Jimin.

“I want to die,” you say, clapping your hands to your cheeks. “I wish I had drowned instead.”

“It’s not that bad, really,” Jimin says, pulling you back to his body.

“Hope on the Street just cackled at the sight of me coming up for air after sucking your dick. Hell of a first impression,” you grumble, rubbing your temple.

“We can ‘walk in’ on them later if it makes you feel better,” he suggests with a laugh.

You disappear under the water, picking up where you left off. If they were going to catch you giving him a blowjob, you might as well finish it. The taste of chemicals is already on your tongue; it can’t be for nothing.

“I love you,” he says when you come out of the water for air.

“I love you too,” you murmur, shyly kissing his lips before descending again.

Every time you resurface, he’s waiting, bringing you to his lips with a sweet kiss. You can tell he’s close, but you’re having too much fun popping out of the water to kiss him. Finally, he’s had enough of the edging and has you kneeling in the center of the jacuzzi, sloppily thrusting himself deep into your mouth.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warns. “Is this okay?”

“Mmm-hmm,” you mumble a sound of affirmation against his cock, only choking slightly.

The grunt of his release comes with the bitter tang of his cum hitting the back of your throat as he bottoms out. You swallow it bit by bit, doing your best not to sputter and choke with the way he’s tightly holding the back of your head in place. He loosens his grip and pulls back, catching the tears in your eyes and concernedly swiping at them with his thumbs. You swallow what’s left in your mouth like a champ.

“You okay?” he checks in, settling into the water with you. “That was too much, wasn’t it? I’m sorry.”

You shake your head with a giggle. “I like when you’re rough. I’m just… out of practice.”

“We can work on it then,” he whispers with a grin, pulling you into an embrace.

When he brings his lips to meet yours, butterflies tickle your insides like it’s the first time. You lose yourself in his touch, in his kiss, in his everything. Being with him still feels like a dream. Never in your life could you have imagined loving someone could feel so good, so pure, so right.

“Hey it’s probably almost midnight. Do you wanna go do the countdown with everyone?”

You respond with a nod. “Champagne?”

“Of course.”

He gets out first and you watch the water roll off his body as he extends a hand to help you out of the hot tub. Pruny fingers grasp his, hoping he knows just how much he means. You’re ready to face the new year together and you’re ready to jump into this found family head first.

Heading for the door, you pause, turning back to look at him. “Aren’t you coming?”

With a laugh, he comes up behind you, draping a robe around your naked form. “You might want to put this on.”

What would you do without him? You swallow hard, donning the robe and smiling at him. He links his fingers with yours and you head inside together.

[gucciwins]

Confessions ll

Harry messed up and Y/N doesn’t know how to move forward

A/N: The long awaited part two. Confessions was written over a year ago and I’d like to think my writing has grown since then. I honestly debated a part two for forever but here it is. I hope you love it as much as you loved part one. 

read part one of confessions here

* * * * *

“Tell me once again what you did for the past week?" 

"Sarah, I told you I watched all seven seasons of Gilmore Girls. Ate food I cooked, not reheated. Well, it was mainly soup and simple pasta. I did take showers and change clothes. Although I have not washed any." You share as you pick up your laundry basket and begin to fill it with a few lose clothes around your room. The room was always kept nice with a bed made and no scattered garments, but that couldn't be said now. You had clothes all over, pillows on the floor, and an unfolded comforter which Ginger was taking advantage of and sleeping on top of. Not mentioning how the living room looked, you started with the laundry. 

"You're telling me you spent roughly 154 hours in front of your television watching a show on Netflix." Sarah pauses. "That means you've either slept fourteen hours straight or slept two hours each night." 

"Your math skills are great still." You laugh, not answering her. “It wasn’t even a good show. But oh well now.”

"Y/N," Sarah pesters. 

"Fine. I slept roughly two hours after I finished a season." 

"What about work?" 

"I am working from home on this project. It's due in three weeks, and I'm ahead, need to edit a few things, then I'm all good." 

You put Sarah on speaker and place your phone on top of the basket as you walk to the washer. You know she's frustrated with you, but this is the best way to heal heartache. Well, your best approach. 

"Are you feeling better, hun" Sarah sighs. "I know it's hard, but I'm here for you. As is Mitch." 

You drop the basket in your basement and begin to load your clothing. "Look, Sarah, I know you both care. I just need to solve this on my own. Ha-" You cut yourself off before saying his name. "He's a great guy, but I don't need a jealous boyfriend in my life. He knows how I act, how cuddly I am, but if he saw me as someone unfaithful, then what's the point of trying. No trust. No love." 

"He's not a bad guy." Sarah starts.

"No, I know that. Trust me, the time we got to spend together, I saw how kind and generous Harry is. He's more than just another famous guy, but second chances. I'm not known for that." You know second chances are good, but it is also a way to lead to being hurt once again. "I know he's your friend, but he was mine as well."

"You're not going to give him the chance to apologize?" 

"Of course, I will. I forgive him, but what else is there to do, it's not li-like he was my boyfriend." 

"Y/N, you confessed your love to him." 

Sarah is trying her best to be neutral, but you know she was rooting for the two of you to make it. To defeat the odds thrown your way. No one expected it to end before it started.

"Yeah, well, come-what-may." 

"What does that mean?" 

"Well, if a bus is heading right at you, let it come." You say quoting Liz from the series you just watched. Not the brightest philosophy, but it's all you have right now. 

"That sounds like a disaster."

"Yeah, it does. You'd save me from the bus, right?" 

Sarah laughs. "Of course, I would. Who else cooks for me expecting nothing in return?" 

You laugh for the first time in what feels like months. Sarah is always able to break you out of your deep dark times. 

"Dinner at my place on Wednesday." You tell her, wanting to get together without having to leave your house. 

"We'll be there." 

You go to hang up, but remember an essential thing for dinner. "Mitch needs to make his brownies, always taste so heavenly." You let out a low moan just thinking about the melting chocolate. 

"I'll tell him, I will also leave out the part where you get wet for brownies." Sarah laughs, and you can't help but join her. Those brownies are just too sinful. 

She hangs up, leaving you in the quiet of your basement. It would be good to see Sarah and Mitch even if Harry blew up at you the last time you saw them. You shake your thoughts away and finish loading the wash. Picking up the previous item, it's a blue Mickey Mouse shirt. Except, it's not yours, it's his. He had come over for dinner and decided he wanted to do the cooking. He brought the spoon to his mouth to taste and ended up spilling. You were quick to strip it off him and rinse it, not wanting it to stain. But did not wash it in a load right away. He was in no hurry to put a shirt back on. To his displeasure, you handed him a Washington State sweater that belonged to your brother. He had looked good in it. That night you didn't sleep until four am not noticing the time and lost in pleasant conversations.

It's crazy how fast the night changes. 

* * * * *

"Mitch, I made chicken tinga with you in mind. I remember you saying how much you were dying to try some three weeks ago." You say as you set a plate of shredded lettuce on the table. "I have it in good authority that I make one of the best. My grandma said I mastered it, so if you don't like it take it up with her." 

Mitch laughs, remembering saying that when you all went out for drinks. "It smells amazing, I'm sure it's great." 

"Anything you touch tastes amazing." Sarah comments.

The conversation flowed calmly over dinner, not one mention of Harry. It feels off being without him, but you can't change what happened, only move on. Sarah and Mitch were your friends before you even knew Harry, but the same goes for Harry. One moment they were strangers and the next they were best friends, now you had no idea where you stood. 

Mitch got up and went for the brownies and set a plate of two in front of you and Sarah but only one for himself. You were about to bite into the delicious treat when there was a knock on your door. 

You all froze, not knowing who it could be. Not your brother, seeing as you drove him to the airport on Sunday. You briefly talked about Harry, but he knew it was your decision to make. Thomas was a good man, but all too forgiving something you never understood. You look at Sarah and shrug as if to say you don't know who's behind the door. You miss the nervous look Mitch gives Sarah as you stand up and make your way to the door. 

You live in a safe community, preceding checking the peephole. The door opens and in front of you is Harry. He looks nervous, cheeks red, and smile small. He takes a step back, and all you want to do is close the door. Not caring for a word that comes out of his mouth. 

Harry sees the look in your eyes and is quick to react. "I'm not here to stay, but I do want to talk.  

You narrow your eyes at him. "Not tonight." 

"It has to be tonight." He pleads. 

You refuse to do this on his terms, let alone without warning. "No."

"Please," Harry takes a step closer, and you catch his eyes glistening. 

"I need you to leave." It's hard telling him to go, but it's what you need.

"Will you hear me out, if I leave?" Harry's stubborn, you learned that the hard way during one of your first arguments where you needed to go home after a late night of drinking, but he wouldn't hear it practically pushing you to his guest room.

"Of course." 

Harry grins, and it almost makes you forget your anger. 

"But not tonight."

His smile falters. You've caught him off guard. 

"Then, when?" He whispers, all confidence gone. 

You think for a moment, "Friday, I'll meet you at Carol's Diner."

"Okay, 12," Harry says, knowing that was your usual time to have lunch there together. 

"Eight" You're embarrassed to correct. "If that's okay, I've got meetings all day." 

Harry nods. "No problem at all." 

He walks down the steps and to his car. You can't help but stand there as he walks away. He would always drag his feet playfully joking how he didn't like being kicked out. He didn't stay the night unless he had some alcohol. You told him one drop, and you'd have the couch ready for him. Which always ended with him in your bed because he said your living room was haunted. 

You miss him, but you don't know how to move forward. 

* * * * *

Late. You're late, and Harry knows he deserves it, hell you might not even show up. 

Harry ordered a black coffee, not knowing if they'd eat or not. The waiter had just served him his refill when you walked in the diner. You spot him right away, and he can't help but begin to sweat. 

"Harry, I'm sorry. My last meeting ran a little longer." You shrug your coat off before sliding into the booth across from him. "I hope you didn't think I was setting you up."

"'Course not. You hungry? Didn't know if you wanted to order." 

"Starving, I've been craving french toast and a milkshake." You laugh, looking at Harry. "That sounds like a lot of sugar. I'm sorry." 

"It's fine, lo-Y/n." He clears his throat. 

You both place your orders, and then the silence takes over. Harry sits there staring at you while you look out the window staring at the park entrance. You count three couples walking in and four families coming out. You also spotted two dogs, frowning when no more showed up.

You're surprised at how fast the food comes and dig right in. Harry and you eat in silence. The chatter of the diner is the only noise around you. Harry steals glances at you, but you never meet his gaze. Too nervous for that. You finish most of your food, but stop once you see Harry set his fork down. Your hands are quick to go in your lap, slowly tracing patterns up and down your palm to keep calm. 

"We've got to talk." 

You sit there patiently, allowing Harry to be the first one to speak. Harry wanted this so bad he has the floor.

Harry stares at you, and he's afraid he's going to lose you after this moment. 

"I'm sorry, let me start with that." He reaches his hand out but pulls back when he sees them in your lap. "There's no excuse for what I did. I was awful, and you deserve better. You deserve trust, and I didn't give it to you." He takes a deep breath. "Looking back, you let me in, really in, but I always kept you at arm's length, waiting for you to mess up. An excuse to hurt you instead of being the one who gets hurt, but in the end, that didn't work out."

"Harry," You try to cut in.

"No, let me finish." You give the nod, and he continues. 

"Those words I said were not true at all. You never used me for nothing. We always did things in private. I'd always force you to go to the bar with us. That dinner was the first time you initiated a public outing, and even then, the place was small and quiet."

"I don't like crowds, and you don't like paparazzi." You say because it's just that simple.

"See, Y/N. You look to put others before you, but I don't want you to do that now. I acknowledge what I did was awful. I told my mum about it because the guilt was eating at me, and she was so disappointed in me. I'm disappointed in me." 

Harry frowns, looking down at his bare hands. The rings at home, no comfort. He holds himself bare in front of you. 

"I want you to put yourself first even if that means not being in my life anymore." 

You focused your eyes on him. This is Harry, honest and nervous Harry. The guy who recites love actually as it plays. Who laughs out loud to all of Mitch's jokes. The one who always rushes to open your doors. 

"Thank you. This is still a lot." Your eyes begin to burn as you remember his confession. "You said-"Your voice cracks. "You said you were falling in love with me." 

Harry's green eyes begin to fill with tears. He nods in acknowledgment of your words.

"My brother is my best friend but Harry, so were you. Those two months felt like ten years, I felt like you've been in my life forever. That hurt Harry, all because what I was sleeping on was someone's arm like I didn't do it before you, and I won't do it after you." You pause to get your emotions under control. "My brother vouched for you. Said you apologized and cried. That you were quick to see your mistake. My brother approves of few people and to have his approval even after what happened means he sees the good in you." 

"Thomas was amazing. I'm glad you have each other." Harry inputs wanting you to know the feeling is mutual. 

"Harry," you take a drink of water. "We were never together. never went on a date, never asked to be boyfriend or girlfriend, we never kissed." 

"It felt like we were," Harry tells you.

"You're right," You set your hands on the table. "That's why it hurt so much when you said all that to me." 

He doesn't deserve you, he knows that, which is why your next words surprise him. 

"I forgive you."

"Thank you," Harry moves to hold your hand, but you don't let him. 

He doesn't hide his shock. 

"I just can't be with you, at least not now." He nods. "You have to understand, I think we'd burn together."

"You don't mean that." It comes out in a whisper. 

"I'm doing what's best for us now. I care too much about you to go into a relationship only for us to break each other's hearts." 

Harry's heart is breaking, and there's no one else to blame but himself. 

"We're bound to run into each other again, Sarah's my best friend and Mitch is her sidekick. I'm not asking you to wait for me, that'd be wrong. But if we ever find yourself in the same place and the feelings are there, and we both feel the timing is right, then I'll be open to asking you on a date or you asking me."

Harry smiles in understanding, no matter how much it hurts him.  

There's not much left to say. Harry knows this is goodbye. "You'll always be my friend, I hope you know I'll always be a phone call away."

You nod and stand up. "Thank you, Harry. I'm here for you as well." 

Harry stands and wraps his arms around you, giving you a tight squeeze. 

"I'm sorry for hurting you. I really am, but thank you for giving me the chance to grow and learn." He steps back. 

"You're a good man, Harry." 

"And you have the purest most beautiful soul." Harry's staring into your eyes, and you can't help but tear up. 

You reach forward and squeeze his hand three times. 

"Take care, H."

 Harry watches as you walk out of the diner. 

He's lost you once again, but he knows your paths will cross once more. 

* * * * *

I love you so much! Thank you for reading! 

Please let me know what you thought about Confession ll 

[davidbrigstock]

May 21.

Tour Day 15. My Day 7.

It’s a rest day. It provides the opportunity to catch up with sleep, laundry, and other chores. We took the hotel shuttle bus to downtown Santa Fe. There was a small outdoor art show and I ended up buying a piece from an artist by the name of Muller Davis that had a bicycle theme. He’s going to personalize it to commemorate this trip and ship it to home.

Some of you may be wondering about a typical schedule. My iPhone alarm goes off at 4.30 am and I’m up by 5.00am. Then a visit to the ice machine so I can get the camel back bottles and hydration back pack ready for the day. One of the bottles gets Gatorade or similar; the rest get water. I post the live track link on here and make sure that the phone and wahoo are synched. Find the correct bike route in my wahoo. Make coffee in the room and do all that necessary stuff in the bathroom. Apply sunscreen, get dressed (mostly in bike gear). Put all the essentials (first aid pack, extra sunscreen, bandanna, etc) in the jersey pockets. Attach navigation cue sheet to clips on handlebars (a back-up in the event of GPS failure). It’s now 6am. Head down to breakfast, then back to room to put on remaining bike gear, finish sunscreen application (face etc), and put outstanding items into the duffel bags for transport to next hotel. It’s now 6.30am. Head downstairs with the two duffel bags and leave them for the crew to load into the truck. Back to the room to collect the bike. Make sure the lights, GPS and phone apps are ready. Don’t forget or misplace gloves, cap, helmet & shades. Snap the iPhone on to the stem mount and connect it to the battery pack. Check tire pressures and add air if needed. 90 psi for me. Listen to a brief summary for the day from the crew about the route and then sign out (so no one gets left behind). It’s 7am and we’re on our way.

What’s in my bike bags? The rear bag has 3 tire levers, 2 spare tubes, tube patches, tire patches, CO2 cylinders, mini pump, tool kit, chain link remover, & needle-nose pliers (for pulling sharps from tires). The front bag has a heavy duty battery pack so my phone will stay charged all day (some of the navigational apps are very power-draining), a few energy snacks, scissors (multiple uses), and a spare battery for sram gear changing.

At each SAG, we have to remove gloves, gel our hands, and sign in before heading to restroom / toilet or handling food. Before we leave we have to sign out. That way no one gets left behind before the crew departs that location. Often some clothing items like wind jacket and leg/arm coverings come off and are stowed in my camel back pack.

Upon arrival at the hotel , we sign in and if we are lucky our rooms may be ready which is bliss. If not we wait. That’s why adding a decent lunch stop before we arrive at the hotel is a sensible idea as it helps reduce the chance that the rooms won’t ready by the time we get there. We typically are riding for about 5 hrs so some of our breaks at SAG and lunch stops are unhurried events so we don’t arrive at our destination too early. After all we may be dealing with a hotel check-in time of 3pm. Once we have our room key, each rider takes their bike to the room which usually usually involves an elevator ride. The 2 duffel bags have already been delivered by the crew to the room. Strip off, shower, throughly hand wash the bike gear (no, I don’t wear underwear and yes I wear bib-shorts as they fit more comfortably as they do not have an elasticated waist), and figure out a way to dry it. Those window AC units that I used to dislike have now become a godsend, although some ingenuity is needed to get the wet stuff hanging near it. (Some hotels have washers and driers if there is sufficient time but that’s a luxury usually kept for rest days - that’s the case at the current hotel but there was a towel rack above the bathtub so I hand washed the clothes just to use it! That said, everything will get fully laundered tomorrow). Sort out street clothes for the evening and bike clothes for the next day. Charge all my bike gadgets using a multi-outlet USB charger. Check tires for any signs of sharps. Replenish snacks in the front bike bag. Rest. Then eat - usually at around 5pm at an adjacent restaurant for which we have prepaid as part of the tour fee. If time permits, I’ll do a quick stop at a nearby grocery or convenience store for certain essential supplies (eg Swedish fish, Twix bar for a treat that evening or Gatorade as I don’t want to wait until the first SAG to start replenishing electrolytes. I use gatorade powder in my water for simplicity, one box of which has enough sachets to last 10 days). By 7pm I’m back in the room and starting to organize duffel bags for the next day departure. I have one bag for all cycle-related gear (1 orange ribbon - see pic) and one bag for everything else (2 orange ribbons). By 8pm I am checking (= deleting) emails and writing this blog which actually requires a lot of thought and selection of photos. Then sleep until that awful 4.30 am alarm.

And so the cycle (excuse the pun) continues day in day out. Living out of two bags is challenging and requires a lot of planning to stay properly organized.

[occasionally-writing]

Condo Cleaning Day...Or Not?

A/N: Well, the first one to get done was the TineSarawat one XD Warning, it does get a little nsfw but not enough to make it the explicit rating. I’d most likely rate it maybe...a T going into an M? So yeah XD I really hope you guys like it! :D 

Summary: Tine proposes a cleaning day for their condo, but when Sarawat decides not to focus on their plans, they’re almost halfway done when he messes with Tine’s plans and gets his own way.

Word Count: 3208

Tine knew it was time to have a cleaning day. Ever since their exams had started, he and Sarawat barely had time to do much of anything besides study. Whatever time they had to themselves would either be sleeping, eating and showering. Tine couldn’t even remember the last time they kissed or did other...things. Shaking the thought from his head as he pushed the blanket off his form, Tine rubbed his eyes and stretched, moving his gaze to the sight of his still sleeping boyfriend beside him. They were both lucky enough to have their exams finished and now they could relax, except they couldn’t do that just yet. Rolling off the mattress, Tine brushed his bangs free from his eyes and moved towards the dresser, pulling out a fresh pair of joggers and a clean t-shirt. Throwing them over his arm, Tine barely had time to move before arms wrapped around his waist and a face was buried into his shoulder.

“Wat...come on, I was just about to take a shower. We’re going to have a cleaning day and get this condo back into shape,” Tine sighed, not bothering to hide the shy smile that rose on his lips as he felt a sleepy kiss being pressed against the back of his neck as Sarawat placed his chin on his shoulder. Letting out a groan as he heard what Tine said, Sarawat grumbled something illegible and buried his face deeper into Tine’s neck, nuzzling the sensitive skin. Feeling a shiver ride down his spine, Tine bit back a squeak and squirmed around in Sarawat’s grip, meeting him face to face with a stern expression, trying not to show how red his cheeks were beginning to color. “None of that! Come on, let me go so I can shower.”

“Can I shower with you?” Sarawat asked, his voice still deep with the signs of sleep. Squinting his eyes as he heard this, Tine stared into his boyfriend’s eyes, obviously trying to see if he was up to something. Letting out a yawn, Sarawat leaned forward and pressed his face into Tine’s chest, wrapping his arms back around his waist as he cuddled closer. Rolling his eyes, Tine rubbed Sarawat’s back and with a groan, agreed for his boyfriend to be allowed to shower with him. Shooting him a warning that if he did anything to him, Sarawat would find himself out of the shower faster then he could comprehend. Letting out a whiny answer, Sarawat pouted but pulled out a pair of black boxers and a tank top before he followed Tine into the bathroom. “Can I at least wash your hair?”

To Tine’s surprise, nothing happened in the shower. Sure, Sarawat was a little touchy, but he didn’t do anything inappropriate and respected the rules Tine had placed before they went in. Slipping on his pants, Tine pulled the towel that was around his neck off and moved to ruffle his hair with it, pausing when the cloth was taken from his hands and a soft hand wrapped around his wrist. Not saying a word as he was sat down on the floor near the couch, Tine watched as Sarawat sat down on the cushions behind him and placed the towel on his head, gently ruffling his hair dry. Letting out a hum, Tine leaned back against Sarawat’s legs and closed his eyes, not minding the soft touch Sarawat was giving him until it was over and his hair was mostly dry. Taking the towel from him, Tine stood up and stepped in between Sarawat’s legs, placing the towel on his head and returning the favor, letting a soft grin rise on his face when he noticed the warmth in Sarawat’s eyes as he watched him. Holding onto Tine’s waist as his hair was dried, Sarawat completely relaxed and before long, his hair was no longer dripping wet and Tine drew the towel away.

“I’ll take the towels back to the bathroom. Can you start on the dishes downstairs? I’ll follow you once I’m done,” Tine instructed, throwing the damp towels they had around their waists and on his neck over his shoulder. Letting out a huff as Tine ruffled his hair and stepped away from him, Sarawat grumbled as a pout laid on his lips, staying there until he pushed himself off the couch and moved down the stairs, heading towards the kitchen. He knew there would just be arguing if he ignored Tine’s request and although he wasn’t too fond of cleaning, he knew his boyfriend was right because as soon as he got downstairs and took a good look around, all Sarawat good see was dirty dishes and dusty hardwood floors. Rubbing the back of his neck with a grimace, Sarawat made a face as his bare feet caught all the dust and crumbs on the floor and was glad when he made it to the mat they kept near their sink. “Sarawat? I’m done putting the towels on the rack...holy shit, was the floor always this dirty?”

“I know...I didn’t realize it either. We’ll clean it once we’re done with the dishes,” Sarawat mumbled, biting back a snicker when he noticed the face Tine was wearing as he walked over the floors. Making it beside his boyfriend, Tine prepared the hot water and dish soap for Sarawat before he took his place near the drying rack, pulling the dish towel they kept hanging on their oven door handle. Stopping the faucet once the pan of dirty dishes was full, Sarawat poured some dish soap on the cloth and began washing and rinsing, handing the wet dishes to Tine once he was sure they were clean. Stopping for a moment so he could dry his hand and connect his phone to the bluetooth speaker they kept on one of the cabinets, Sarawat put on his Scrubb playlist and turned just in time to see a bright smile rise on Tine’s face. “Thought we should listen to music while we work.”

Nodding softly, Tine watched as Sarawat took his place by his side again and the two continued to work on the dishes, their rhythms beginning to match as they met each other’s pace. Once all the dishes were out of the pan, Sarawat drained it as Tine threw the towel over the dishes and rubbed his damp hands on his t-shirt. Doing the same, Sarawat shook his hands around as Tine moved to pick up the broom and dustpan. Taking them for his hands, Sarawat took cleaning the floor as his duty so that Tine could move his focus to their bedroom, where he knew dirty clothes were laying around on the floor and their full hamper of clothes that needed to be washed. Nodding as Sarawat explained this to him, Tine moved to go around his boyfriend until his waist was grabbed again and Sarawat placed a noisy kiss on his cheeks. Smacking him softly, Tine mumbled something and dashed away, shaking his feet off once he was on the stairs, Tine gave Sarawat one last look before he stomped up the stairs, ignoring the chuckles that were escaping his boyfriend’s mouth. 

“Shit...I guess we really did make a mess…” Tine muttered to himself once he made it upstairs, his eyes immediately falling on all the dirty clothes that took refuge on their floor, an obvious mix of both his and Sarawat’s just strewed about. Rubbing the back of his neck with a barely held back groan, Tine knew that he was the one who proposed a cleaning day, so with a heavy breath, Tine got to work, grabbing an empty basket so he could pick up their clothes and toss them in something that would make them easier to hold. He honestly found that he didn’t care that he was mixing their clothes, since the both of them just wore each other’s clothes anyways. Finally seeing the floor around their bed, Tine took in a deep breath and wiped at the beads of sweat that was just beginning to dot around his forehead. “There...now to get this stuff in the washer...along with the rest of our clothes in the hamper.”

Lifting the basket of dirty clothes easily and placing it on his hip, Tine moved towards the bathroom and shut the door behind him with his foot. Placing the basket on the dryer, Tine carefully tossed in their clothing, knowing he would have to make a double load due to how much their clothing accumulated. Opening the door again, Tine kicked the empty basket back into their room and watched as he slid just enough to hit their mattress before he closed the door again, turning his attention back to the filled washer. Measuring out the proper amount of laundry soap, Tine poured it in and adjusted the settings to the perfect water temperature and how big the load was. Closing the lid, Tine pushed the start button and watched as the washer began sensing it’s contents and the water began filling. Propping himself on the dryer, Tine kicked his legs a bit as he listened to the soft tones of the Scrubb playlist Sarawat still had going in the kitchen, the music just being loud enough to hear even when he was upstairs. Leaning back as he hummed out the ending lyrics to the song, Tine closed his eyes and didn’t notice the steps that were coming upstairs and the way the bathroom door opened until hands were on his waist and a body was in between his legs.

“S-shit! Saraleo! Don’t do that!” Tine yelped, his body jumping in shock as he was frightened from the sudden appearance of his boyfriend. Chuckling softly as a flush began to fill Tine’s cheeks, Sarawat shuffled forward more and moved his hands, letting them trail up his boyfriend’s body until they cupped Tine’s face, his thumbs tracing soft circles under his eyes. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Tine shyly leaned into Sarawat’s touch and sighed, not minding how the dryer he was sitting on was kind of shaky due to how the washer was running through its last cycle. Leaning in, Sarawat kept his gaze on Tine’s, their lips just about to touch until both of them flinched when the buzzer went off on their washer, alerting them that the clothes were done. Letting out a small snort when he noticed the look Sarawat was giving their appliance, Tine knew that if looks could kill, the washer would be dead by now. Gently pushing Sarawat back, Tine hopped off the dryer and moved to pull the damp clothes out. “Wat, open the dryer for me, yeah?”

“Fine,” Sarawat huffed, a pout heavily marking his lips as he did as his boyfriend asked and opened the lid. Shooting him a thankful smile, Tine continued to unload the damp clothes in the dryer before he pulled out to cling free sheets, tossing them in as well. Closing the lid, Tine noticed the way Sarawat sat on their toilet seat, his arms crossed loosely on his chest as he waited for him to get done. Rolling his eyes at his boyfriend’s childish yet endearing behavior, Tine quickly turned the dryer on for an hour before he got to work putting the last set of clothes in from their shared hamper. Pouring the laundry soap in, Tine closed the lid and kept all the settings the same as he started the washer, turning his back to it so he could give Sarawat his undivided attention. Noticing this, Sarawat perked up a bit and threw his arms around, basically gesturing that he wanted Tine close. “Come here.”

Biting his lip, Tine slowly moved closer to Sarawat and took his place between his open legs, letting his boyfriend wrap his arms around his waist, his own hands landing on Sarawat’s shoulders. Burying his face in Tine’s stomach, Sarawat sighed and rested his tired body, all the cleaning they’ve been doing putting a number on his energy levels. Threading his fingers through Sarawat’s hair, Tine stayed silent as he felt his boyfriend relax, his body growing lax against his. Peering behind him, Tine stared at the washer as it was on it’s last cycle before they too had to move to the dryer. Hearing the buzzer, Sarawat whined and tightened his hold around Tine, not wanting to let go. Gently pulling at Sarawat’s hair, Tine pinched his ear which effectively made Sarawat let go so he could attend to the clothes. Pulling them out, Tine stopped the dryer for a moment before he moved the clothes to the dryer, grinning when he noticed there was enough space for all their clothes to dry together. Dropping a few more dryer sheets into the machine, Tine closed the lid and fixed the timer on it so the dryer could run for another hour. 

“Okay, the dryer won’t be done for another hour, what else do we have left to do?” Tine asked, placing his hands on his hips as he tapped his foot in thought. Groaning from his place on the toilet seat, Sarawat pushed himself up and draped his body over Tine, not caring the way his boyfriend let out a gasp of surprise or how he almost dropped him on the ceramic tiles. Shooting Sarawat a warning look, Tine made his way out of the bathroom with Sarawat still attached to him before he stopped and took a good look around the room. Noticing the old bedsheets, Tine made a noise and shook Sarawat off him, moving towards their mattress so he could remove it. Throwing it in the direction he knew Sarawat was in, Tine bit back a chuckle when Sarawat let out a hiss when he was smacked in the face with their dirty sheets. Pulling a new pair from the decorative boxes Tine had noticed on their last furniture shopping day, Tine threw the plain grey sheets over the mattress and tucked them in, throwing the top sheet on for good measure. Fluffing the pillows up, Tine let out a breath and belly flopped on the bed, keeping his limbs open like he was a starfish. “I think we deserve some rest while we wait for the dryer to be done.”

Not hearing a word from Sarawat, Tine furrowed his brows but didn’t get a chance to move as a body dropped on top of his, pinning him effectively to the bed as Sarawat shifted around until his face was buried in the back of Tine’s neck and his arms were snug underneath Tine’s bed, looping around his waist. Letting out a slight groan when Sarawat’s body finally settled and his weight was placed evenly, Tine wiggled around and huffed when his boyfriend let out a whine and tightened his grip hard enough to where it was beginning to get uncomfortable. Slowly stopping his struggle to get free of his koala like boyfriend, Tine held still and just breathed heavily, burying his face in the light sheet. At least the sheet was fresh and smelled clean. Noticing that Tine stopped struggling, Sarawat loosened his grip and just slacked into Tine’s warmth, seeming like he didn’t care that he was practically squishing the other boy. 

“We can’t stay like this forever. The clothes will be done soon and we’ll have to gehehet...S-Saraleo!” Tine gasped, his breath leaving him when Sarawat nipped at his neck, soothing the mark as he pressed a soft kiss to the skin. Trembling slightly as he tried to register what just happened, Tine thrashed around until he was able to knock Sarawat off him and he could move onto his back, not staying free for long as Sarawat sat on his hips, staring down at him in amusement. Biting back his need to curse at his boyfriend when he noticed the amusement fade into something more fond before Sarawat leaned down and brought their faces close together. “Wat…” 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Tine held his breath as Sarawat leaned further down until their lips were close enough yet not touching and just freezing there. Waiting long enough to the point that Tine felt his patience wearing thin, Tine stared into his boyfriend’s eyes and let his breath out slowly. Gaining whatever confidence he had in his heart, Tine pushed his body up until he could press their lips together, stunning Sarawat enough to where he froze, his lips barely moving against Tine’s. Smirking as he noticed this, Tine went to move away but gasped when the back of his neck was grabbed and Sarawat forced their lips back together, now responding to the kiss as he snapped out of the shock Tine had put him in before. Pulling away when he had to breathe, Tine laid his head back against the mattress and panted, squirming lightly when Sarawat placed butterfly kisses all around his face before his attention was going back down to his neck, nuzzling his nose against the sensitive skin. 

“Tine, can I…?” Sarawat whispered, moving his lips up to the shell of Tine’s ear so he could whisper the last of his sentence. Feeling a warmth immediately filling his cheeks as he heard what Sarawat wanted to do, Tine went to protest but only whimpered when Sarawat kissed the spot behind his ear, effectively silencing him. Pulling away so he could stare Tine in the eyes, Sarawat reached out and cupped Tine’s cheeks, trying not to show how much he truly wanted him just in case he scared his boyfriend off. Noticing the look of pure love in Sarawat’s eyes, Tine bit back a sound that would most likely embarrass himself and just nodded, wrapping his arms around Sarawat so he could lean down and press their foreheads together softly. Nuzzling their noses together, Sarawat pressed one last kiss to Tine’s lips before he trailed them down, Tine feeling ever kiss Sarawat put on his body, even over his clothes. Reaching the waistband of Tine’s joggers, Sarawat glanced up at his boyfriend and waited to make sure that Tine was really okay with him doing this. Feeling his heart swell as he noticed Sarawat waiting for his consent, Tine took in a shaky breath and smiled shyly, nodding and reaching out, pushing his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair. “After I’m done, we can finish the cleaning, okay?”

Nodding softly, Tine shivered as his pants were tugged down slightly and the slightly cool air met his nether regions. Not having to wait long for Sarawat’s touch on him, Tine let out a barely muffled gasp and reached out, taking Sarawat’s hand in his as he squeezed his eyes shut, the only thing he could truly feel was Sarawat all around him. And if he was truly being honest, the rest of the cleaning of their condo was the last thing on his mind as Sarawat pressed a kiss to the spot under his navel and he was suddenly in his boyfriend’s mouth, the heat making Tine let out another gasp as the remainder of their supposingly spring cleaning day left his mind and was replaced with every thought of his boyfriend.

[verai-marcel]

Domestic Bliss (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur x F!Reader, Neighbor AU, Part 2 of 2, 18+)

Tags, Notes, & Summary are in Part 1.

AO3 link is here, angel.

Word Count: 1465

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Side B - Low Honor

For the past three months, you and Arthur hunted for an apartment that matched your budgets; you were a little selfish, demanding that you have two bathrooms, one for Isaac and one for the two of you, and he easily gave in, admitting that it would be nice to have separate bathrooms. He wiggled his eyebrows as he said it. You smacked his arm for the implication, smiling all the while.

You finally did find an apartment that worked out: a two-bedroom & two-bathroom unit not too far from the highway. It was a little closer to Isaac’s school, though it was a little farther from work for you. But it had an in-unit washer & dryer, so you could live with that.

You also discovered that you and Arthur butted heads at first when it came to completing a task, but at the end, the two of you always managed to figure out the best way to do it. Even if it meant shooing the other person away and just doing it alone.

You had packed all of the stuff you wanted to keep and sold or donated the rest, which wasn’t that much, since you had lived pretty minimally since college. Arthur, on the other hand, lazily threw his stuff into boxes with no rhyme or reason, and you found yourself tearing your hair out when it was time to unpack.

It took three weeks, coming by after work and most of the day on the weekends, to clean and pack and then unpack at the new apartment. You had barely gotten Isaac’s room ready before it was time for him to show up for the week.

***

Arthur was a pretty good dad. You knew that because Isaac was such a good kid, but knowing it, and seeing it in action, were two different things. Whenever Isaac had a tantrum, Arthur would pick him up and set him in his room, standing watch as Isaac screamed and yelled, and when he was done, Arthur would calmly ask him if that got him anything, and Isaac would always sulk and say “no,” so begrudgingly that you had to stifle a laugh.

You would drop off Isaac at school, and Arthur would pick him up after work, and every day like clockwork, Isaac would do his homework and then help with some small chores. You were horrified at first when you discovered that Arthur let him use a knife, but after seeing him carefully use the small knife for cutting fruit under Arthur’s supervision, you decided that it was alright. As long as you didn’t have to watch him while doing that.

When Sunday finally rolled around and it was time to send off Isaac, he gave you a hug, a kiss on the cheek, and said he liked having you around.

It was a nice feeling.

***

While you waited for Arthur to return from dropping Isaac off at his mom’s, you cleaned up his room and did laundry. By the time Arthur came back, everything was done and put away, and you were staring at the pantry, wondering what to do for lunch.

“Welcome back,” you said, glancing over your shoulder to see him come back into the apartment, a grin on his face. “Why are you smiling like that?”

Arthur’s grin only grew more salacious. “Because we ain’t had time to ourselves in this place.”

You closed the pantry and turned just in time to see him kick off his shoes at the door and stalk towards you, taking off his shirt. He threw it onto the sofa on his way towards you.

“Arthur!”

He only chuckled as he finally reached you, cornering you in the kitchen. You were backed up against the counter, his hands gripping the counter edge as he leaned down, his eyes darkened with lust.

“Been waitin’ all week to have ya,” he growled before taking your lips in a hungry kiss. He nearly snarled as he pressed his hard body against yours, his hands coming up under your shirt to undo your bra with deft movements. He pulled back just long enough to pull your shirt over your head and your bra with it, tossing them over his shoulder before he returned to ravage your mouth.

His hands grabbed your tits, squeezing them as he thumbed your nipples. You moaned at his insistent touch, letting out a surprised squeak when he pressed his knee between your legs to force them open so he could step between and rub his hard bulge against you. His hands wandered down to your ass, and he squeezed you there too, making low sounds of enjoyment.

“Need you,” he mumbled as he grabbed the hem of your yoga pants and pulled them down along with your panties. Wasting no time, he pressed his fingers against your core and stroked, finding you already wet. “You need my cock, baby?”

“Fuck yes,” you hissed, rolling your hips against his hand. He chuckled before he grabbed your hips and lifted you up onto the counter. Spreading your legs, he leaned down and shoved his face between them, his tongue immediately going for your core.

You let out a wordless cry as he hungrily devoured you, his mouth and tongue feeling like absolute heaven. He knew just how to make you moan, how to make you tighten your thighs around his head and grip his hair in your hands. Arthur was relentless, eating you out like a starving man, desperate for your release.

He slipped two fingers into your pussy and went to suck on your clit, and that was enough to make you come, your hips jerking forward as he reached up to grab a breast, fondling you playfully as you writhed on the counter. Your head leaned back and you moaned until the orgasm ebbed away, leaving you feeling zoned out and relaxed.

“We ain’t done,” Arthur said as he stood up and wiped your slick away from his mouth. Pulling you off the counter, he turned you around and bent you over. He stepped forward and unzipped his jeans, pulling out his hard cock. Rubbing the head of his shaft around your opening, spreading your slick around, he gave you a quick spank before he pushed inside of your relaxed body easily.

“Yer body knows what it needs,” he joked as he slid home, holding you close. He wrapped a hand around your neck and forced you to look at him. “My only fuck toy,” he rumbled before kissing you, making you taste yourself on his lips before he began rolling his hips, taking you with swift, strong strokes.

“You. Feel. So. Damn. Good,” he gritted out each word with each slam of his hips, his hands gripping your hips once more as he fucked you wildly. His rhythm became erratic, his grunts louder, before he suddenly pulled out of you.

“C’mere,” he said as he pulled you towards the dining table. Laying you down upon the cold wood, he spread your legs and slammed back into you, taking your ankles over his shoulders. Reaching down to thumb your clit, he grinned at you, smug and satisfied.

“Tell me what you want, my li’l fuck toy.”

“I want you to shoot your load inside me!” you gasped, thinking of the most dirty thing you could possibly say. You felt like a porn star, with the way he was pounding into you, his cock filling you oh so perfectly with each thrust.

“Oh, you’ll get it, baby. I’ll give it all to ya,” he growled, letting your legs fall from his shoulders to wrap around his waist before pulling you up to his chest. His heavy breathing was harsh in your ears as he reached for your ass and held you tight. “Hold onto me.”

You wrapped your arms around his torso and hung on for dear life as he fucked you hard and fast, racing towards his climax. He angled his cock in just the right way to rub against your center, and together, you came around him as he emptied himself inside of you, letting out a series of curses as he held you close, staying inside of you for as long as he could.

Arthur finally stepped away when you shifted your legs, feeling his essence dripping down your thighs and onto the table.

“Dammit Arthur, now we have to clean up.”

He laughed. “Let’s head to the shower first.” He picked you up and carried you, your arms and legs wrapped around him. 

“Besides, we haven’t fucked in here yet,” he said while giving you a wicked smile upon entering your shared bathroom.

You rolled your eyes in exasperation, but the eager smile and flush of desire in your body begged to differ.

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

End Notes: Of course, HH Arthur is all about starting a family, while LH Arthur just wants to be selfish and enjoy you for a little longer. One more story after this, fam!

[thotsforvillainrights]

~Pivitol~

[As Promised, here is the first chapter of the Overhaul Fanfic I was supposed to be working on once a week. I hope I can do a good enough job. I haven’t written a fanfic since my Wattpad days. I still get notifications from my Ticci Toby x Clockwork book XD]

Summary: The move to the city has been hectic so far. You’re new here and feeling very much alone, but you aren’t scared! People around here seem to be fairly nice to you, yet there were still mysterious people lurking here and there. So what do you think happens when you go get laundry done a block away? It can either be good or bad, but it will never be boring!

Chapter: 1

Warnings: None

“Thank you!” You cheerfully waved at the moving men when they left the last of your furniture in the living room. They were off to the next objective and you were free to unpack and unwind to enjoy your new city life. The move has been hectic you agree, but the overwhelming feeling of starting life anew was welcoming and overtly optimistic. You smiled to yourself as you sat on the plushy carpet of the living room and sifted through a box labelled ‘wall art’. Sure you were jumping ahead by trying to decorate before unpacking everything, but you just couldn’t wait to make the new apartment feel homier. Suddenly you heard a soft knocking at the door. You opened it and looked down to see a VERY short elderly woman holding a small present while a small dog was leashed next to her side. “Good evening dear. I’m the landlord at this establishment and I just wanted to take the time to give you the old welcome chat that I’ve given to all of my tenants since I started in this business. My name is Mrs. Yumine. You may call me Ms. Yumi for short. This here is my furry baby Fitch.” She said as she pointed at the cute dog next to her. “Here, these are for you dear.” She reached up and handed you the box with her short arms. You smiled and gently took the box, opening it to reveal fresh baked cookies. “Thank you so much Ms. Yumi! Also, thank you for allowing me to take up residence at this apartment complex. I have the feeling that I’m going to like living here!” You said cheerfully. The elderly woman smiled widely, her wrinkles pulling to show the cheerfulness of her face over time. “My dear if you need anything then please come see me on the first floor in apartment #6. If you can’t see me for whatever reason then please call me at either number I’ve written on the bottom of that box. Have a good evening!” You nodded and went to put the box away once the landlord had left to finish walking her pup. Eventually all your hard work paid off and you were almost finished unpacking/moving things around. You had all of the essentials unpacked save for a few items amongst the unnecessary. The only issue now was:

1.) What are you going to have for dinner

2.) What are you going to wear to bed? (unless you sleep in the nude, to which this isn’t a problem)

You sighed and looked over at the stack of dirty clothes you didn’t wash before moving here. Unfortunately you looked around and realized the apartment had no washer or dryer hookup. After some quick searching on your phone However, you were able to locate a laundromat just a block away from the apartment. “Score!” You quickly got up from your lounging spot on the couch and gathered the clothes into a basket. You made space for detergent and grabbed the keys to lock the apartment behind yourself. Walking just down the block, you managed to make it to the laundromat in just fine condition. With this section of the city being as large as it was, the crime here was moderate rather than slim. Yet you still moved here due to job opportunity. You smiled to yourself at the near empty laundromat. It was becoming evening time very soon, and eventually it would shift into night by the time you finished washing and drying your clothes. The crowd here was barren due to the time of day. It was just you, a busy mother of 2 folding her laundry by a table, and an old man snoozing in the chairs by the large window. You began to load clothing into the washer when suddenly you heard the ding of the door opening. You looked up and saw 3 rather handsome men standing empty handed as they entered. One on the right had odd silver hair in the shape of arrows that framed his handsome face ever so delicately. His eyes thin and focused, his jawline carved by God himself. Although he was dressed in a simple white hoodie, he could’ve easily passed as a model. The man on the left had a more refined look to him. His hair was a short blonde combed neatly upon his head. His glasses adorned his rather slender face perfectly. He was dressed semi casual with a tie and everything. He was the type of man you’d see in a bank somewhere. Finally your attention turned to the man in the middle. His hair was a cropped, darkened chestnut/auburn color. Three golden piercings attached to one of his ears, and a simple black medical mask covered the lower half of his face. His outfit was semi casual while formal at the same time. He wore a clack suit jacket with a dark grey button up underneath, unbuttoned at the top just a bit. There was no tie, and the slacks fit his lower form perfectly, showing off the very slightly thickened thighs. 

Perhaps the most entrancing thing about his appearance was his piercing golden eyes and his long lower eyelashes. 

Their eyes began scanning the scene, and when the man in the middle locked eyes with you then you quickly turned your attention to the laundry in front of you. His stare was burning into you, and you felt as if you were being watched since he looked at you. You nervously shifted eyes to the busy mother and noticed how she discreetly pushed her children behind her back. She then quickly proceeded to fold all of her laundry and rush out the door past the men. By now the elderly man had woken up from the sound of his washing machine beeping to signal his clothes were complete. He noticed the 3 men by the door and quickly gathered his wet clothes, tossing them into the nearest dryer, paying the change, and moving to sit on the other end of the laundromat. Apparently these men carried an aura to them that you just couldn’t put your hands on. Still, you were here to do your laundry, so you decided not to focus too hard on them...no matter how handsome and shady they may have seemed. You settled your clothing into the washing machine and inserted the change. Then you went to sit at the window where the old man originally sat. You glanced at him from the other end of the laundromat and his eyes held a certain shock or fear. Perhaps it was remorse, or maybe a warning. It was as if he was mentally trying to tell you to leave, or to sit over by him instead of being near the men. You ignored the ominous message and pulled your phone out to scroll through the notifications. You couldn’t help but to overhear some of the conversation they began to engage in. 

“I shouldn’t have to be in such a filthy area such as this. How does this pertain to the deal in any way, Kurono?” The golden eyed man asked the arrow hair. “I don’t know, but Hojo spoke of the rival gang being not too far from here. This is a good spot because it’s not expected. Just in case negotiations break down and-” 

“Shhh...I think we’re being monitored.” The glasses guy spoke to Kurono. The 3 men looked over their shoulder at you but you kept your eyes to the screen. “C’mon Nemouto, she/he/they aren’t even paying attention to us. Anyway, the deal shouldn’t take too long Overhaul.” Kurono then spoke to the golden eyed man...Overhaul. Suddenly his phone rang. He answered it, mumbling something lowly and then hung up. “Boss you stay here. Me and Nemouto are going to handle the exchange.” Then Kurono and Nemouto left the laundromat, leaving Overhaul to stand there rather awkwardly (yet still calm at the same time). After a while, you began to feel that feeling of being watched carrying on far too long. You peeked up and saw him standing closer, staring down at you intently. “Uh...hello?” You chuckled nervously. You were met with intense silence for a moment. As soon as you were about to look at your phone again, you heard him utter a small ‘hello’. You offered him a seat next to you but he hesitated at first. Ultimately he decided to have a seat, leaving an empty chair between you two for space you presumed. He also hadn’t sat until he took out a wipe and cleaned the empty seat. Then he sat down. “Pardon my curiosity for a moment, but you seem like a new face around here..” He started small talk with you. “Oh yeah, I just moved here actually! I heard there were good job opportunities here that didn’t really heavily center on the usage of quirks. Job hunting seems harder these days when you’re qurikless.” His eyebrow raised at your words. You successfully peaked his interests. “Oh, quirkless? How rare in this society. What is your name if you don’t mind me asking.” 

“It’s Y/N...Y/N L/N. What about you?” You reached out to shake his hand. He stared at your hand and looked back up at you. “You may call me Overhaul. Oh, I don’t shake hands. Too much risk involved with bacteria and such.” He said shortly. “Ah, sorry. I guess I should’ve assumed that since you’re wearing those gloves and all.” Suddenly the washer went off to signal your clothing completing it’s cycle. You excused yourself and went to load the clothes into the dryer. The issue arose when you dropped a quarter and it rolled under the machines. “Oh no! Aw man!” You sighed in defeat. You were mentally preparing for your walk back to the apartment to retrieve a quarter when you heard a clinking sound and the dryer starting up. You looked up and saw Overhaul standing there. “Thank you so much! Ugh, I’m such an idiot for bringing exact change with me. I should’ve been prepared.” You bullied yourself a bit. “it’s alright. There’s nothing wrong with being precise most of the time. Your problem just now wasn’t that you brought exact change, but the fact that you clumsily dropped it.” You laughed at his seriousness and he tilted his head. “Was something I said funny?”

“No, it’s just that you seem like the type of person to lead a group of people less serious than you are.”

“You have no idea...” He sighed and you giggled at him. Before you knew it, the men returned to retrieve him and your clothes were down drying. “Goodbye Y/N. I do hope there’s a chance we can meet again soon enough.” He bid you farewell as you folded your dry clothing. For some reason, he left your heart afloat and curiosity coupled with the need to chat with him some more had overtaken you.

“Overhaul...”

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