#And the normal brush I’ve been using for all the other doodles

[lemonynuggets]

Hiii! :3 For the requests, you could do Basil and Sunny watching a sunset? Or anything involving a sunset really, I think it would look pretty in that art style! No pressure, of course!

I spent so long trying to figure out how to draw the sunset that I kinda gave up on the rest sorry…

I hadn’t tried doing anything with a background in this style yet and it was definitely hard without layers but I think it looks cute

[aerodaltonimperial]

(Junglecorpse, 1.4k ish. In my defense, and I know I say this a lot but it's actually true this time, I am very legitimately going through a lot right now, and I don't know if my therapist would approve of this method of self-soothing or no, BUT whatever, Junglecorpse is one of the few pairings that activates my "MUST HAVE FLUFF NOW" toggles when normally I avoid fluff like the plague. I wrote this snippet a few months back or so for Vamp via chat and expanded it today for Myself™️ so I'm posting it here so I can save it on the masterlist. You do not have to read this.)

“Do you think Tony’s gonna lose his mind and create a new pay-per-view every week?” Jack asks, while thumbing up through his Twitter feed somewhat absently. He’s only got his right hand, as Darby has stolen his left. Darby’s got one of his ink pens, the felt-tipped kind he uses to doodle sometimes, and the brush of the tip against the skin on the back of Jack’s hand is calming. Sometimes Jack ends up with skulls littering his knuckles, other times with swoops and flourishes; mostly, he just lets Darby do his thing. It’s familiar.

“Seems like a bad business model,” Darby replies. His head is bowed, chin turned down as he works. Last week, Jack went out to lunch with his sister with a stylized skateboard heading up against the bump in his wrist bone, and she’d laughed for about three minutes straight.

Jack snorts a little, still scrolling. Doom-scrolling, really, though he’ll never admit that to his therapist. “Yeah, people are gonna stop paying if all they ever see is Hanger and Swerve stapling each other’s chests every single month, over and over again.”

“You may be greatly underestimating the public interest in that.” Darby laughs.

“Oh.” Jack frowns at the back glow, squinting a little. “Shit, yeah, you’re right. Man. Should I start up a homoerotic feud with somebody with the sole goal of getting some really violent death matches?”

“Please don’t let anyone else staple your chest,” Darby says, a bit muffled. The brush pen curls along Jack’s skin.

“Anyone else? Whoa, buddy, stapling me was not on the to-do list for this week.”

Darby snorts. “I like you in one piece, thanks. And I’m not a big fan of watching you bleed all over the mats.”

“Oh, sure, but I have to watch you toss yourself spine first off the posts every Wednesday,” Jack says. He taps the screen again with his thumb, pulling down. Something something official AEW twitter, five clips from the last show, and Stokely buying another celebrity Cameo to woo Kris Statlander. Actually, that one’s pretty funny. He got Barack Obama to do it. Jack didn’t even know Obama had a Cameo.

The brush tip swirls, then taps a few times. “Aw. You gettin’ anxious over me?”

“Well, if you die, who’s going to keep my feet warm at night?”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to tell you: wear socks. Your feet are fucking freezing.”

Jack huffs out another laugh. The Obama cameo was hilarious. Stokely deserves managing her at this point. “I don’t need socks, I have your legs.”

“Dick,” Darby grumbles.

“But back to this pay-per-view thing. This is a lot of matches. Having even more on Sunday, every month, feels kind of overwhelming. Like, I need to have the roofing guy come look at my place? And I can’t schedule it because Tony keeps creating new shows.”

“Mm.” Another swoop of the brush, then some lines. Jack glides through an update from Prince Nana that reads truly bizarre, a reblog from Bowens that reads genuinely excited, and a post from Danhausen that’s mostly nonsense ending with ‘you’re cursed.’ “Maybe next week. Your shingles? Or the gutters? I don’t think I remember you talking about any other issues.”

“Just the shingles. After that last wind storm, I think a few came off, and now I’m worried the whole damn thing will come down around me one night.”

Darby huffs out a laugh, but the doodling ministrations on the back of Jack’s hand don’t pause. “I think you’d get a bit of a heads up before that happens.”

“Only if someone is physically there to yell ‘heads up’ at all times,” Jack jokes. Another tweet from the official AEW account, and then a reblog. Sammy posted. Ricky posted. Sammy tweeted at Ricky with a bunch of capslock, Ricky quote-retweeted with a gif of a dancing middle finger, and Jack skips all of that. Let them argue on main if they want to. Sammy’s just gonna try to fall on Ricky from the scaffolding again.

“I’ll do it.”

The drawing on the back of his hand stops. “Oh, yeah?” Jack smiles. “Are you volunteering to always…” He looks down at the doodles on his skin, and freezes.

Adorning his knuckles are a series of curves, vine-like, that curl up towards his ring finger where they create a solid horizontal line, and in the middle of his hand, somewhat shaky, given they were written upside down to be read from Jack’s direction, blocky letters spell WILL YOU MARRY ME.

Jack’s chest constricts. He can’t breathe. With his heart roaring against his ears, he whips his gaze up to stare at Darby, whose expression is maddeningly neutral. “Darby. What the fuck?”

“Okay, that’s… a response,” Darby says, with the tiniest of shrugs and a pinch to his lips. “Think it’s pretty clear.”

“Are you… are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Darby replies, mouth quirking up at the corners. “Yeah, I am.”

“You…” Jack’s tongue is ungainly, swollen. “Oh my god.”

“I’m not hearing an answer.”

“But… why would you…”

Darby drops his eyes, dragging his thumb over the topmost part of his impromptu design in a caress, and his smile never really diminishes. “Jack, what did you think this was? What did you think this was going to be? I don’t do things in halves, I told you that from the get-go. You know me. It’s you and me, and that’s what I want. Forever.”

“Are… are you sure?” Jack’s gonna choke on everything bubbling up from his chest.

Darby’s eyes slide back up. They reflect the lamplight, bright shiny starbursts. “Yeah, Jack, I’m really fucking sure. And if you don’t—”

“Yes.”

Darby pauses, tongue slipping out to press into the corner of his mouth. “Yes?”

“Yes.” Jack laughs, the sound bubbling up through his throat. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“Holy shit.” Darby’s smile widens, impossibly stretched. “Holy shit. Really?”

Jack grabs for Darby’s face, clutching the sides of his head. He mashes their mouths together with way too much force, but he can’t stop it, because the rattling in his veins has started to sing. Then he pulls away. “You asked, you absolute loon, how did you not expect an answer? Yes, really. Really.”

And then he’s not really sure of much other than the fact that they’re both laughing, euphoric, and Jack doesn’t care about the roof anymore, or the idea of someone stapling his chest, because all that really pales in comparison to everything else, and he thinks ah, that’s exactly how it should be.

His brain starts to catch up with reality, sluggish. “Where are we gonna live? My place, or your place? This is opposite sides of the country, you know. Oh, wow. We’re gonna have to file taxes together.”

Darby laughs, features pulled incredulous. “What?”

“Should we hyphenate our last names?” Jack’s eyes track over Darby’s face: blue, blue, blue, his eyes are so blue. Should they have blue in their wedding? Should they have a wedding? “Should we hyphenate them in the ring? Wait, I have to go to the grocery store today, and I don’t want to wash this off my hand. Should I take a photo? Or wear a glove? Am I gonna look like Michael Jackson?”

“Jack,” Darby laughs again, high and bright. “Darling. Light of my life. You’re such a fucking idiot.”

“I’m seventeen steps ahead again, aren’t I.”

Darby grabs his face between his palms. “Yes. Yes, you are. Honestly, I don’t know where we’re gonna live. We’ll probably just keep both places. Yes, we’re gonna have to file taxes together. No, I don’t know if we’ll hyphenate our names; I really don’t give a shit. Yes, you can take a photo. No, you will never look like Michael Jackson.”

“You don’t have an opinion about our names?” Jack asks.

Darby hauls him closer, until their noses touch. He’s smiling, smiling, and Jack’s smiling, the expression too wide and aching on his face. “Jack, I don’t fucking care. I just want to be with you and your stupidly cold feet.”

“Does this proposal come with the condition that I have to buy some socks?”

“Don’t you even dare,” Darby replies, his thumb gliding along Jack’s cheek a little. “You’re gonna shove your feet between my legs in the middle of the night and jolt me awake like you always do, and I’m gonna fuckin’ love it, every damn time.”

“Oh my god, you’re such a sap,” Jack says.

“Get to used to that, ‘cause you’re gonna be legally stuck with me after this.”

“Awesome,” Jack breathes, and kisses him again.

[kiisaes]

What’s your thoughts on tracing as a way to learn to draw? I’m a total beginner artist/digital artist. Lvl 0. I started a few months ago with procreate on an iPad and I’ve gotten good pointers on procreate and what’s a good DPI and whatnot. i can see a little progress when it comes to the layers and and blending with other brushes besides the smudge tool haha

But I’m still unsure of how to get better at proportions and expressions and pretty much everything when it comes to the line work. I know practice is the ultimate tool to get better, and I’ve tried to use the typical reference to look at but I struggle hard with proportions and keeping the face semi symmetrical and it comes out all wonky. I’ve always been under the impression tracing is like taboo (outside of hands, I think most agree that hands suck) but is it okay to do as practice?

not sure if this is a hot take or a cold take bc artists can't seem to agree on if tracing is ok or not, but i think it's fine to do as practice!

lots of either young or insecure artists think that tracing is bad, and i kind of get it - it's not art we made on our own and we relied a lot on someone else's existing lines. to many, it feels like cheating. i thought that way too! but the older i got and the more i heard from experienced artists, the more i realized that tracing can be really beneficial!!! sure you're not making your own lines from your own imagination/studying references, but you're still drawing the lines. it helps you get used to shapes and figures, and it familiarizes your hand so drawing things like faces or muscles — pretty difficult things to draw without help — don't feel as unfamiliar anymore.

believe it or not, your hand will remember movements the more you do them. it's more or less muscle memory. if you trace a pose or a hand or something, your hand will become more accustomed to drawing those things. obviously i recommend you use studies more so your eyes can also train themselves to work with your hands, but i understand that drawing off of references is way harder than tracing from references. if you're a total beginner, there's nothing wrong with tracing photos of models or w/e just to get a basic feel

i do draw the line at tracing other artist's work and passing it off as your own, though. nothing wrong with studying an artist's style, that's really useful towards developing your own style. but if your lines perfectly overlap another artist's piece, then you didn't do any of that hard work yourself. not only is it disrespectful as hell towards the original artist, who poured their sweat and tears into that drawing you just doodled over, but you also didn't really grow from it.

i have seen professional artists trace and replicate other artists' works, but it's either paying purposeful homage to the original, or was done to study the style and methods used to create that final product. normally you can tell when an artist traces for their own artistic improvement and understanding, and when they're tracing just to be lazy, rude, and profit undeservingly. generally a rule of thumb is if you trace from a different artist, you don't post it online or sell it anywhere. and ofc you always want to respect the og artist's wishes, so if they don't want anyone to trace their work, you probably shouldn't, even if it's just for practice. there's lots of other resources you can use on the internet!

TL;DR: tracing is a-ok from a practicing standpoint!!! but don't trace other artists' works, take full credit for it, and post them online!!!

[molzies-fanfics]

Kouros

A/N: I think this is the main reason why I don’t draw male anatomy often lol. I can’t imagine what the people around me would think if they saw photos like that on my phone, I’d be mortified! So I tried to channel that kind of feeling into this fic, and because I need to write for Donnie boi more and I think his reaction would be a hell of a lot funnier I decided to go with him! Hope y’all enjoy!

UPDATE: it’s been well over two years since I began the draft...but I’ve done it! it’s here! IT’S ALIVE! this fic I mean...starting uni next week so wish me luck guys!

 Donatello x gender neutral reader

words: 753

Requested by: @choccoshake​

Donnie knew you loved art, doodling, painting, graffiti, you name it you most likely did it. It was similar to how he had to get a blueprint down or the itch to write equations almost everywhere. He was surprised his brothers weren’t annoyed with the incessant scribbles but sometimes there were just as bad with how they wrote their names all over the place, especially the glaring graffiti of Leo’s name before you entered the area of his ‘bedroom’.

 However having a significant other that kept most of their drawings to themselves was a welcomed change of pace. You often found inspiration whilst sitting in his lab, which made him feel like a piece of him gave you the little creativity push. It gave him fuzzy butterflies in his stomach to say the least. Sometimes you used his printer to print out references for your work, you sometimes used the grid method and other times it was just better to have it to scale besides where you were working. Donnie never pushed to see what you were working on, you always gave him a heads up before peering over his shoulder by brushing your fingers over his shell or mumbling his name softly.

 That was until he went to fetch something from his printer this morning and found not only his papers on ‘how to get pepperoni out of an engine’ (don’t ask) but an incredible amount of pictures of shirtless dudes.

 Human shirtless dudes to be more precise.

 Even though Donnie had the suspicion that this was purely for art’s sake, he couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that shot through his chest.

 Not only were most of these men pure muscle but they were clearly human…something he was very much not.

 You were invested in drawing anatomy, of course that included human men. He tried to think of this from a more logical point of view, but he couldn’t help the ‘what ifs’ from entering his mind and taking over his somewhat uneventful morning (besides the pepperoni incident).

Before he could come to anymore conclusions he knew he had to talk to you…or at the very least give you your references.

“Hey Y/N?” Donnie’s voice called out from his lab as he entered the lair. You were perched on the couch, fully engrossed in your drawing.

“Yeah babe?” you answered, not bothering to look up. This was normal behavior between the two of you. If either of you were working then you wouldn’t bother looking up unless it was something important. Donnie felt hurt nonetheless. He really needed you to look at him just for the sake of seeing him.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” The turtle asked, gripping the papers to his chest as if they would protect him from his feelings.

Finally, you pushed your sketchbook to the side as you focused all of your attention on him and only him.

“Sure! What’s up?” You grinned. Dread began to settle over the terrapin’s face as he didn’t want to be the cause of distress. Yet he couldn’t get those damn thoughts out of his brain.

“I just wanted to know about these?” He smirked slightly as he showed you the pictures.

“Oh…those were just for drawing. They look a bit stupid though huh?” Giggling, you apologized for using his printer without checking first.

“That’s not what I wanted to talk about, I mean kind of, but not at the same time?” your expression morphed into confusion as he rambled.

“Okay? Wanna sit with me?” You offered as he walked around the couch, sitting very close to you as he took a deep breath in.

“It’s just…when I saw these I couldn’t help feeling jealous. You draw anything and everything and I understand that includes the male anatomy of…humans. Your own species. I think…I felt like you could do so much better than me.” The purple banded turtle’s walls came down as shrank into his shell.

“Don, you are my boyfriend. I care about you so much it hurts sometimes. Yeah I draw people all the time but maybe I should focus on something else…” you trailed off, taking the references from Donnie and dropping them on the floor.

“What’s that?” he asked meekly.

“Can I draw you?” your eyes gleamed, your hands resting on his cheeks as you asked.

“Oh-of course!” chuckling to himself, he let out his signature snort as you scrambled for your sketchbook beginning a detailed sketch of your Donnie. Your muse, Donatello.

[statticscribbles]

Soulmate

Summary: This was a commission!! (Commission rules here!) Cheryl Blossom/Reader/Toni Topaz; soulmate AU

Support My Writing?

“Dymon, get up! You’re going to be late for school!” You knew that staying up till five am reading the newest update for your favorite webcomic wasn’t a good idea but you couldn’t think of anything else to do, trying to avoid the panic that had been bubbling since yesterday’s pep rally. You’d been good at covering your mark. It wasn’t strange for people to cover them or have them uncovered. It was common for the popular kids to show of their marks; Cheryl Blossom always had cute little flower doodles and hearts around it; drawn by herself.

When it had been revealed her mark was the same as Toni Topaz’s notorious Serpent from the southside; no one had shut up about it for weeks. Which means you knew if they found out your symbol, a kiss print and a snake twineing around it, was the same you knew it would take a month for it to die down. If anyone believed you.

You weren’t hated at school; you stood at 4 foot 11 inches; which meant no one saw you as a threat; you introverted and quiet personality however marked you as easy prey; which in high school was basically a recipe for being bullied. The Serpents never bothered you; it was mostly the other bulldogs or northsiders that bullied you; they were never fond of differences and you were blending into the background for the wrong reasons; at least to them. You were always surprised none of them went for the obvious jabs; that you wore oversized clothes to hide something; that you were so quiet cause you weren’t smart enough to speak. That your glasses were because you were trying to be cool and fit in; not that you needed them to see. The bullying wasn’t physical; the most that happened was someone shouldered you in the hallway; it was mostly that you were ignored, occasionally their were mean names tossed around insults but it was a little easy to brush them off; none of the Bulldogs actually knew you.

“Dymon!!!”

“Coming down now!!” You shout before anyone else has the chance to accuse you of being late. You know that just because nothing happened yesterday doesn’t mean something will. You’d been nervous; the big end of season game was coming up; which meant there was going to be a huge pep rally. Which meant that all the bulldogs were going to have larger heads than they normally did; which meant you needed to keep yours down.

You tuck your hands into your sweater; black like the rest of your clothes. You know you’re stretching it out, the sleeves are too short; the curse of a late growth spurt.

You keep your mark hidden; it’s safer; you know everyone would just tease you for it and you’re waiting for someone to remember where they’ve seen it. It doesn’t take long for Chuck to see it; for his eyes to light up in the way you know means he knows exactly who your soulmates are.

Cheryl Blossom is wearing her signature lipstick and death glare. You're surprised it's not directed at you; you were currently on the ground, blocking her path. Chuck had shoved you down, claiming you’d faked your soulmate mark. He’d only seen it because you’d been late and the sweater you had grabbed was too short in the sleeves to cover your hand; where the mark rested on your palm. Bright red, a warning beacon to everyone you’re starting to think.

Toni and Cheryl help you up, glaring at Chuck before they pull you into an empty classroom and shut the door.

“Dymon; you should have said something..”

“You know my name?”

“Yeah you come into the comic shop on the southside all the time.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask where you got your boots.” Cheryl gestures down to the combat boots you always wear; you know she’s nodding to the spikes on them.

“Oh I took a couple of chokers and laced them through.” You shrug a little trying to downplay it but Cheryl looks pleased.

“So you’re not mad?”

“I’m a little annoyed you never said anything sooner. You clearly knew it was us when we got together last year right? You should have said something.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to be with me..”

“You’re our soulmate; there’s no one we’d rather be with. And we can announce it at the pep rally; if you’re okay with it.”

“Really?”

“Yes we want everyone to know you’re ours; that you’re with us; why would we want to hide you; you complete us.”

Support My Writing?

[daydreamingleclerc]

worst behavior - mason mount

summary: in which, mason doesn’t give you what you want as punishment for your bad behavior.

warnings: dirty talk, petnames, dom!mason, brat!reader public foreplay, edging, ruined orgasm, fingering, thigh-riding, oral (m, f), choking, spitting. basically everything but penetration :) hasn’t been proofread.

requests are closed. this is partially inspired by a message leigh (@judeswhore) sent me AGES ago and i felt like it fit with this idea! <33 

“are you doing this on purpose?” 

mason’s hand grabbed ahold of yours on his thigh under the table as his lips brushed the shell of your ear, looping your fingers and placing your interlocked hands on the table where everyone could see them. you pouted softly when his lips didn’t linger along your skin like they normally did, and when his hand squeezed yours you found his eyes and he took note of the innocent glimmer hiding within them. 

“anyway, as i was saying...” ben’s voice came back into earshot as he slid back into his seat across the table, muttering on to mason about his flight over. you picked at the rest of your plate, and sipped at your expensive wine in the hopes mason would show you a hint of attention, but all you got was the occasional half-lipped smile and a squeeze on the hand. 

“what’s the matter, darling?” mason asked once the conversation with ben had fizzled out and everyone on the table was chatting amongst themselves in the process of waiting for dessert to arrive. 

“i need you,” you shifted gently so one of your legs was draped over mason’s thighs, your voice quiet yet not drowned out in the sea of voices amongst the table. mason’s lips quirked, and his eyes travelled down your body, landing on the view of your boobs spilling out from your top, and he ran a hand up your thigh. “please, masey.”

he smirked, and nonchalantly his fingers landed on the inside of your thigh, stroking soft patterns on the hot skin, which juxtaposed when goosebumps appeared all over your skin at the simplest touch. “what do you want, Y/N?” 

“you.” 

you leaned in closer, lips skimming his neck and making it look like a lovers embrace when masosn’s other hand draped itself over your shoulders. his lips found the shell of your ear, and just the heat from his breath on your neck was enough to make you squirm, “what specifically do you want, sweetheart?” 

“i... you..” you couldn’t say the words out loud, not at dinner, and so with one hand, your fingers looped with the ones over your shoulders and your other hand guided mason’s fingers to your clit, which ached for the feeling of him. the soft brush of his fingers against your pussy made you struggle to keep quiet, stifling a soft whimper into a cough. 

mason tutted, moving his hand away from your clit and resting it at the highest point on your thigh, both of you knowing full well that him - and his long, delicate fingers - had the capabilities to finger you from that place. 

“please, masey, i’ve been so good.” 

“but you haven’t though, have you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and catching your eyes that flickered with excitement when he spoke, “when i came up to your hotel room last night i found a vibrator under the pillow, and you used it without telling me. you put it there on purpose, didn’t you? hm?” 

his fingers tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear and his lips attached to your jawline, sucking a soft and short hickey into the flesh, “you’re such a little brat.” 

you whimpered, your skin on fire at the prospect of mason getting so close to touching you. “i promise i’ll be good from now on, i’d barely seen you i couldn’t help myself.” 

“good girls don’t make excuses, do they?” 

“no,” you shook your head, a soft pout on your lips, “no masey, but i really need you.”

“pity.” 

mason’s hand left yours, and returned to his previous position, teasing you by doodling figure-of-eight’s into your inner thigh, even when your leg had been pushed off of his lap. 

dessert arrived, and as you ate, mason’s hand inched up your thigh higher and higher, pulling your leg onto his lap until eventually the pad of his thumb pressed against your clit. you froze, holding your fork in your mouth as your teeth grazed the cold metal, and when he pushed a finger inside of you, you heard him chuckle. 

“what’s the matter, baby? cat got your tongue?” you pulled the fork from your mouth and pursed your lips together in the hopes you would stay quiet. “sweetheart if you don’t speak everyone’s going to start cottoning on to what i’m doing, and we don’t want that, do we?” 

“no,” you croaked, shaking your head. “nothing’s wrong.”

“good,” he hummed, slipping another finger inside of your pussy, and when he did you grabbed ahold of the table so hard your knuckles turned white, “that’s what i like to see.”

his thumb worked on your clit, and his fingers pumped in and out of you at a gruelling pace, and thanks to the height of the table and it’s overly large table cloth, nobody could see what was going on between you. mason had you in the palm of your hand, and you both knew it. he watched you through clouded pupils as you struggled to keep up his conversation and eat what was left on your plate, and with every pump of his fingers your eyes would flutter shut and your body would still peacefully. 

“you’re so wet sweetheart, all for me?” he teased.

“y-yes, masey, all for you.” 

he knew your orgasm would be coming up remotely soon by the way you clenched around his fingers, and given the fact you couldn’t keep still. you fought off every instinct to moan out, and keep in conversation with him as your free hand gripped onto his thigh with every particularly good thrust of his fingers. 

“don’t you dare think about cumming,” he said into your ear, his breath triggering more goosebumps, “you haven’t earned it yet.” 

you let out a soft whimper at his words and right when you fell on the brink of cumming - and before you could clamp your hand around his wrist - mason pulled his fingers out of you, and dropped some of his dessert on his lap at the same time. 

you watched as he scooped up the tiny bit of ice cream up on his finger and sucked off your wetness from the rest of them, “so fuckin’ sweet.” 

the moment replayed in your mind for the rest of the evening, so much so that the two of you got a taxi to the hotel earlier than the rest of the boys, claiming that jetlag had got the best of you. 

your lips fell against his the minute the driver rolled up the partition, and mason’s hands hooked around your waist and situated you on top of his thigh. after a minute or so of fiddling with he lever, he managed to push his seat back further, and immediately out of instinct, your hips began to gently rock back and forth against the denim of his jeans. 

mason’s hands pushed the material of your skirt up so it sat around your hips and pulled your tits free from the restraint of your top, watching them bounce as your hips rocked. a whimper escaped your mouth when you hit a snag on his jeans, and the feeling sent shockwaves up your body - you were far too sensitive after masons stint in the restaraunt. 

“you look so fuckin’ pretty riding my thigh like that, kitten,” he hummed, his hands guiding your hips loosely, “even if you are a fuckin’ brat.” 

against your thigh you could feel his dick hard in his jeans, and another whimper escaped your lips. mason tensed his thigh underneath you and the sensation left you seeing stars, throwing yourself forward and gripping onto the top of his chair, giving him perfect access to your tits. he buried his face between the middle of them, and brought his hands up to each boob, massaging your nipples between his fingers and leaving you breathless. 

“fuck, mason it’s so good,” you cried, biting down on your bottom lip as your hips sped up in the hopes of chasing orgasm. 

“better than that vibrator you’re so fond of?” 

“yes, fuck yes, so much better,” mason smirked and bit down on the inside of your right boob, dragging his tongue around your nipple and leaving you breathless. “can i please cum?” 

“do you think you’ve been good enough?” mason asked, raising an eyebrow and looking up at you from between your boobs. you whined, nodding furiously in the hopes that he would let you, but before he could answer you felt it rushing through your body like a tsunami. 

mason seemed to be one step ahead of you, and just as the orgasm hit he lifted you off of his thigh and pressed his thumb against your clit, ruining the orgasm completely with a smirk on his face. 

“fuck, mason,” you pouted, “i was-” 

“-i know you were, but i didn’t say you could, did i?” 

you shook your head and reluctantly rolled off of your boyfriends body, pushing your skirt back down over your hips and re-adjusting your tits into your top. mason pulled his seat forward again, and pressed his lips against your neck, sucking down on the skin and watching his work bloom nicely. “sorry baby,” he kissed your lips when you looked at him with a pout, “but if you’re not a good girl then you know the rules.” 

when you got home, you got straight into the shower in order to take your mind off of your hormones, but it didn’t work and so you hopped straight out. mason was still in your hotel room when you got out, and he watched you with hooded eyes when you exited the shower, towel wrapped around your body loosely, and you scowled, “what?” 

“just thinking.” he noted, his phone falling to the side of him as the warm evening air blew through the balconette windows, “but you’re being a little slut so i don’t think you deserve to know.”

he sat at the edge of the bed, and when you stood between his legs, mason pulled you down by your hands and his lips attached to yours and within seconds your bottom lip was tugged between his teeth, and his hands pulled the towel from your body. 

“lay on the bed, kitten, head over the edge,” he demanded, standing up and waiting for you to do as he asked. your head rested against the corner of the room, and when you turned your head to your right you had the perfect view of the sea out of the windows. 

the sound of mason’s zip caught your attention, and from your position on the bed you watched him pull his dick free, almost drooling when it sprung up against his belly button. “do you remember our safe signal?” he bent down, bringing his lips to yours and when you did the gesture - three taps on his thigh - he hummed, spitting into your mouth, “good girl. open.”

you did as you were told, opening your mouth for him. adrenaline ran through your veins when he pushed his dick inside of your mouth, and the way your throat contracted around his dick, made him groan. you moaned at the feeling, new and exciting, but it was muffled by his dick and so you spluttered. he pulled out of your mouth, and the tip of his dick rested on your tongue for minute and he watched as his dick was shrouded by the warmth of your mouth. he bent over your body, and with the pads of his fingers he began to strum at your clit. 

you whimpered, fighting back the urge to wriggle around so you could finally cum. he wrapped his other hand around your throat and the pressure made you both moan, and when spit trickled from mason’s lips and onto your pubic bone you jolted forward which made him moan once more. 

“fuck, Y/N!” he hissed, his fingers speeding up on your clit to bring you to orgasm, “look at you so fucked out with my dick in your mouth, i bet you love it, don’t you?” 

your voice was muffled around his dick once more and you wrapped yor arms around his thighs to feel him closer. “bet you love knowing that if anyones looking in they’ll see you with my dick down your throat like a perfect little slut, don’t you?” 

the way you nodded left mason groaning, and his dick began to twitch in your throat and you found yourself feeling seconds away from orgasm. mason’s hips pushed and pulled in and out of your throat and every contract of your throat pushed him over the edge, his cum shooting straight down your throat as he moaned your name like a mantra. 

you wriggled and writhed underneath him and when he pulled his dick from your throat, he spun you around and his lips immediately latched onto your clit, with two fingers pushing inside of you. your hands found his hair and your back arched off of the bed, and you couldn’t help the near-scream that left your lips when you came in his mouth and over his fingers. 

you laid in mason’s arms, completely breathless and listening to the hustle and bustle outside of the windows, leaving the occasional kiss on his jaw, and he smiled as he drew shapes on your shoulders. 

“fancy a bath?” he asked. 

“a bath sounds amazing.” 

[words-for-holland]

Distractions

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Tom and Y/N decide to work in the same room together. The problem...both of them get easily distracted and a whole lotta fluff comes with it.

A/N: Whoa its been awhile but here we are again! Thank you for 1,000+ followers it means the world! Surprises to come 😉

“Hello beautiful.” Tom greets Y/N with a cheeky smile on his face. He quickly pecks her soft cheek as he places his laptop across from his lovely girlfriend, who was currently focused on her work.

She takes a second to look up, returning his smile with a soft one. “Hey, good looking. What’s up?”

“Nothing really. Is it okay if I work here with you? I just want to be close to my girl.”Tom pouts.

Y/N’s heart could burst at the sight and reason he gave. An inaudible “aw” prolonging through her mind...until she quickly realized that there could be some complications with this as a slight frown starts to replace her dimpled smile. “Wait...are you sure?”, she asks. “Dont you have press interviews that require absolute silence? I doubt any of you will want to hear the constant typing in the background.”

“Yeah, your typing is horrendous with those lead heavy fingertips of yours.” Tom teases.

“Well these lead heavy fingertips aren’t leaving anytime soon, so youre probably better off working elsewhere.” She suggests, pointing off to the distance. Tom groans at the idea, using his one hand to put her finger down. He engulfs hers with his, lacing her fingers and holding on tightly.

“Noooo. Dont wanna be anywhere else. Please darling? ” He pouts once more.

She giggles at his plea, rolling her eyes. “Course you can, bubz.” Tom excitedly scoots his chair in as he rubs his hands together to prep for the work to come.

And work they did...for at least 10 minutes. Tom was getting antsy as he read through his next script. Occasionally his eyes would roll to the left, and observe Y/N as she continued to read through an article on her screen. Not that Tom didnt find his own work fun but he always found watching Y/N do her thing just a bit more interesting.

He hadn’t realized himself, but his body start to shift and lean more towards her. His arm extending to wrap her in, as it glided up and down in a steady motion. His thumb doodling hearts on her shoulder. Tom could tell it had an effect on Y/N, discreetly smirking to himself as he heard her audible shakey sigh.

He wanted to see what else could make her sigh like that, so instead of his thumb he used pointer and middle finger, running them up and down her shoulder. Tom could see the smile creeping on Y/N’s face and her little head shake. She knew what he was up to and yet, Y/N still wanted him to think that he was not gonna get her that easily. But God was it hard. Every touch felt like tiny fireworks against her skin, goosebumps forming all over her body with every touch. She to stay strong. No distractions.

Tom eyes perked up, at the action. He must go further, he thinks. Tom starts to trace his nose from her shoulder to her neck, leaving kisses at her jawline. “C’mon darling. Think its time for a break.”, he whispers in her ear.

She turns her head towards him as she smiles, leaving a quick kiss on Tom’s lips. “Its only been ten minutes.” She laughs. “Five if you want to count the distractions.”

He backs up, pretending to look appalled. “How dare you. I’ve been a good lad focusing on my script for the whole ten minutes.”

A playful glare formed on Y/N’s soft face which ultimately ended her up with a fit of giggles. She couldnt take him seriously, but then again she never did with anything. Tom has always said if they were kidnapped by a pair of robbers, her first reaction would be to laugh. As the laughter died down, Y/N paid her attention back to the screen which had been inactive during the playful banter and continued to type out those set of documents that she had been meaning to get to.

Tom on the other hand was still reading through his script, taking mental notes on how he was going to approach his character. This time he was completely engrossed in his work. His eyes moving left to right with every line he took in. Until...he felt something ticking his lower calves. Tom knew it was Y/N’s foot, by the way it brushed just as he had done with his hand on her shoulder. The movements never stopped, her legs now curling around his own. Y/N was trying to getting back at him, but one thing she always forgot was that Tom always wins.

Naturally he had to the same, and what once became a playful game of footsie, now ended up with Tom shifting Y/N to sit on his lap. Her legs now wrapped around his waist and his hands holding onto her hips. Both of them connecting their soft lips, feeling every spark and essence of love. He looked up at Y/N with admiration, thinking how lucky he is to have her in his life. Yeah Covid sucked for the most part and limited their ability to even do anything exciting outside, but it gave them the opportunity to be with each other far more than they could have on a normal day. On a normal day, Tom would be jumping around country to country while Y/N would be home miles and miles away from him. Course, nothings changed with jumping from country to country, but Tom gets to bring Y/N with him now and thats all that mattered to them.

But work never stopped them from keeping busy. Just as their kisses were getting more heated, and their hands tangling each others hair both their alarms went off. The couple stopped their antics as they leaned their heads back, groaning in synchronization.

“Ughh. Thats my cue. I have to prep for an interview.” He mumbles as he nuzzles into Y/N’s neck.

“I know. I have to get ready for another business meeting. Whoo.” she speaks in a sarcastic manner, dropping her head.

“What time?” He asked pressing a kiss to the shell of her ear.

“Mm...3. Why?”

Tom plays with the strands of her soft hair. “Was wondering if you’ll stay with me through mine and Ill stay with you through yours.”

“As much fun as that would be. I dont think were allowed to —“

“Im not saying we have to be on camera for each others meeting. But if one of us will be off camera itll be all right.” He plans, still looking at his girl with pleading eyes. Y/N’s mouth twitches to the left, her eyes furrowed with suspicion.

“You’re doing it again.” Tom states, a small chuckle escaping his lips.

“Doing what?”

“You’re making that face again.”

Her expression quickly changes to confusion, not entirely sure of what Tom was noticing that she didnt about her own face. “What face?”, she asks.

“The one where you twitch your lips and make your eyes look angry. You only do it when youre indecisive about something. Its bloody adorable.”

Y/N snorts at his comment, and tries to get off to give him time to prepare, only to be stopped by his hands pushing her back down on his lap.

“I was serious about wanting to stay with my girl the whole day while doing work. Please?” He pleads again, this time bringing out the puppy face. “I’ll be good and do the dishes tonight.”

To be fair, Y/N knew she was always gonna say yes to Tom. Its pretty hard to deny her dorky boyfriend when hes asking so sweetly and just wants to spend the day together. More so, if the roles were switched, she would have done the same thing. “Go get changed movie star, before youre late for your interview.” She murmurs to him, kissing his cheek before she scrambles of his lap to sit across from him.

Tom whoops with victory as he runs out the room quickly changing into his shirt, fixing his hair, and adding glasses for that sophisticated touch. Sure he wanted to look his best for the Cherry Press, but he made sure his outfit was something Y/N would very much adore as well.

“How do I look?” Tom asked coming out of their shared bedroom.

Y/N looks up from her computer, and smiles widely. “Handsome as always.” She couldnt take her eyes off of him, admiring every detail of the clothing and how it perfectly complimented Tom’s feature. She eyed him from top to bottom, until she noticed something. “Uhh..honey....you’re not wearing any pants.” She asked a bit confused. Her eyes engrossed in the muscles of his thighs and the fit of his Calvin Klein boxers.

Tom smirks at her. “Its uncomfortable wearing pants. Besides no one will see...except you.” He teases, gently lifting her head up so that her eyes meets his. “Eyes up here love.”

“Youre something else.” She laughs, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “Well...least we know who wears the pants in the relationship.”

Tom laughs loudly at her comment. He hooks the waistband of Y/N’s sweatpants and snaps them back to further prove her point. “That was a good one. Ill give you that.” Tom and Y/N high five each other, and then it was press time.

Y/N kept quiet and tried her best to minimize the typing unless it was really needed. Seeing Tom talk about his work and dedication was something that she had always admired about him. He loved his job and everyone can see that. Occasionally they’d steal glances from each other, smiling and holding each others hand under table so that no one could see. But it was just one of those moments that Tom and Y/N couldnt help themselves too. Two hours passed and Tom was free.

“You did so well.” Y/N praised Tom and awarded him with a quick kiss. “I love it when you talk about your passion.”

“Thanks. I love that you were there with me to sit through it all.” He smiles. “I believe its your turn now. It’s almost 3.”

Y/N frowns, knowing shed have to dread through hers. Instead of getting to talk about her passions, itd all be about business, business, business. “Ugh. Do I have to?”she groans.

“Come on now. Dont be like that, you’re gonna be fine. Ill be here with you the whole time.” Tom reassures her with kisses all over her face.

“No distractions?” She asks.

“No distractions.”

[shemarmooresfedora]

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Masterlist

Chapter 4

Spencer’s phone buzzed in his desk drawer much to his confusion. Pretty much everyone that would be calling him was here right now.

“Dr. Reid,” he answered.

“Hey Spencer, it’s me, Y/N,” you said.

“Oh! Y/N, hi!” he looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to him before slipping away to the empty break room.

“I’m really sorry to have to ask this but is there any way you could pick Jo up from school and watch her for a few hours. A student dropped a vile of dimethyl sulfoxide in the lab so I need to safely clean it up and then make sure the room gets properly ventilated. I had to cancel the rest of class so I have to clean everyone else’s lab station up too,” you explained.

“Of course, of course,” Spencer readily agreed, “I can watch her for as long as you need but I have to finish my files here so would it be okay if she came to the office just for a little so I can finish up and then I will bring her back to my apartment. I’ll text you the address.”

“Yes, that’s completely fine. Sorry for springing this on you but my babysitter is out of town and I called JJ but she is in New Orleans with Will and the kids,” Y/N apologized.

“It’s no problem. It’s actually the opposite, I am looking forward to it,” Spencer smiled as he hung up the phone.

Spencer knocked on Hotch’s door hesitantly.

“Reid, what can I do for you?” Hotch looked up from the mounds of files on his desk.

“So I kind of have a kid and her mom needs me to pick her up from school and watch her so could she come here until I finish my work?” Spencer quickly rambled.

“You kind of have a kid?” Hotch asked, slightly amused.

“Well, she’s mine but she doesn’t know that I am her father and I just found out about her a week ago,” Spencer explained.

“If I wasn’t a profiler, I would think you were pranking me but you seem to be telling the truth. Yes, your kid can hang out until you finish your work for the day. Normally, I would just let you go early but you know Strauss has been inspecting the BAU with a fine-tooth comb recently,” Hotch stated.

“Thanks, Hotch. I’ll be back in thirty minutes,” Spencer ran out the door.

As Spencer slid on his satchel and was walking towards the elevators, he turned around and sighed. He almost forgot to tell the team.

“Hey guys! Quick announcement! I have a kid and her mom needs me to watch her for a few hours so she’s coming here. However, she doesn’t know that I’m her father so please use your discretion,” Spencer finished and bolted for the stairs.

“Kid, what-” Morgan started to say but the glass doors were already closing behind him.

Spencer didn’t have the time nor desire to fill them in on all of the details. He didn’t want to keep his daughter waiting.

-

“SPENCER HAS A WHAT?” Garcia screamed as Morgan informed her of the breaking news when she returned from her lunch break.

“That’s all he said and apparently she doesn’t know Spencer is her father so you have to keep your mouth shut, baby girl,” Morgan scolded.

“I will, I will. Do we know how old this kid is? What’s her name? Oh my god, who is the mother?” Garcia asked, “I’ll be right back. I’m going to my tech cave to do something totally unrelated.”

As Garcia stood from leaning on Morgan’s desk, the BAU glass doors opened.

Spencer was hunched over, holding Jo’s hand. Jo was dressed in corduroy pants, a lavender cardigan, and her hair was tied up in two pigtails that were bouncing side to side. Her converse were matching with Spencer’s.

“Well I’ll be damned, Pretty Boy wasn’t lying,” Morgan whispered to Garcia and Prentiss who had now joined them.

“Guys, this is Josephine. Jo, this is Derek, Penelope, and Emily. Can you say hi?” Spencer asked.

“Hi,” Jo responded meekly, scooching closer to Spencer’s leg, the one familiar face for her in the crowd of strangers.

“Hi Josephine! You look adorable! I love your little pigtails,” Penelope knelt down to her height.

“Thank you. My Mommy did them for me,”

Jo replied.

“Okay Jo, let’s go to the round table room so we don’t have to stay out here in the crazy bullpen. Let me just grab my files,” Spencer led Jo to his desk and then up the small flight of stairs.

The rest of the team watched in amazement as Spencer lifted Jo into one of the seats at the table and spun her around in the chair a few times as she started to giggle.

“Who’s the kid?” Rossi asked as he exited his office, having missed the big announcement.

“Reid’s daughter apparently,” Prentiss shrugged with a small smile on her lips.

-

“Okay, Jo! I’ve finished all my work. Wanna go to my apartment and grab some dinner?” Spencer asked.

Jo was sitting next to him, doodling with pens on extra lined paper. Penelope had also brought in some of her trinkets from her desk for her to play with.

“I miss Mommy,” she sighed.

“I’m sorry but Mommy is going to pick you up from my apartment as soon as she can. Come on, I’ll let you get whatever you want for dinner,” Spencer tried to cheer her up.

“Ice cream?” Jo perked up.

Spencer laughed, “How about we have a real meal for dinner and then we can have some ice cream?”

Jo contemplated this.

“Okay but you have to carry me because my legs are tired,” Jo explained.

“Oh-uh okay, yes I can do that,” Spencer stuttered, suddenly getting nervous that his clumsiness would result in him tripping with Josephine in his arms.

Jo outreached her hands and made a grabby motion and Spencer picked her up and rested her on his left hip, his right hip occupied by his satchel.

“Bye Josephine!” Emily smiled at the little girl.

She gave an enthusiastic wave as Spencer carried her to the elevator.

-

“What do you want for dinner?” Spencer placed Jo into the child seat in the shopping cart.

“Chicken nuggets!” Jo exclaimed.

“Chicken nuggets, it is,” Spencer pushed the cart to the frozen aisle, grabbing a bag of the dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets.

“How about some smiley fries too?”

Jo nodded with a smile as Spencer opened another freezer door.

“And we should probably have a veggie. How about baby carrots? Do you like carrot sticks?” Spencer questioned.

“Yes, Mommy always makes me eat my veggies or no dessert,” Jo stated.

“So if you eat all your carrot sticks, then you can have ice cream. What flavor do you want?”

“Ummm strawberry please.”

“Good choice,” Spencer smiled.

“We need rainbow sprinkles too, Spencer!” she exclaimed.

“Of course! How could I have almost forgotten!” he chuckled.

-

Jo yawned after scooping the last spoonful of strawberry ice cream with extra sprinkles into her mouth.

You had texted Spencer you would be there in thirty minutes but he didn’t think Jo was going to last that long. She could barely keep her eyes open.

“Jo, do you want to go to bed?”

He soon realized his mistake as tears started to form in the child’s eyes.

“Where is Mommy? She always tucks me into bed and reads me a bedtime story,” she cried.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Spencer quickly stood from his seat and hugged Jo, “Mommy is on her way but I think she would want you to get some rest so I’ll read you a bedtime story, okay?”

Jo nodded and sniffled. Spencer wiped her tears away with his cardigan sleeve. He picked Jo up, getting used to the comforting feeling of her in his arms, and tucked her into his bed.

Spencer looked around at his bookshelves full of technical books and classic novels in other languages but devoid of any colorful picture books that would interest a kid.

“How about I make up a story?” Spencer whispered.

Jo nodded sleepily.

“Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful princess and a goofy knight in the kingdom of uh- Caltechia,” he spoke softly.

“The princess and the knight were madly in love despite how the knight was so clumsy and the princess was so elegant. However, the knight went away to slay the evil dragon and both the knight and the princess were so sad to be apart. When the knight finally returned, he realized the princess had become a queen and she had an equally beautiful daughter who was now the princess. The knight loved them both dearly.”

Spencer looked down to see that Jo was fast asleep. He brushed the stray hairs off of her face and leaned down to give her a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“I love you,” he whispered.

He figured there was no harm since Jo was fast asleep and he just wanted to say it to her at least once.

About ten minutes later, a knock sounded at the door as Spencer was washing dishes.

“Hey, I knew you wouldn’t accept money as a form of payment so I got you an extra large coffee, extra sugar,” you handed him the cup.

“Thank you but that really isn’t necessary. I was more than happy to do it. I really want to do it again,” Spencer adamantly said.

“Jo has a tee ball game on Sunday. You are welcome to come and then we could all grab dinner after,” you offered.

“I’ll be there,” Spencer smiled softly.

“Um, where is she?” you asked.

“Oh she’s sleeping in my bed. I’m not exactly sure of her normal bedtime but her eyes were drooping so I figured I should put her to bed. We had dino chicken nuggets, smiley fries, and baby carrots for dinner and then some ice cream. I hope that’s okay,” Spencer whispered as he led you to his room.

“More than okay. Thank you so much. I’m surprised you got her to go to bed. The nights she has stayed at my parent’s, she refused to go to sleep for hours,” you stated as you picked her up.

Jo nuzzled into your neck even though she was still asleep. Spencer watched as you slowly made your way out of the apartment with Jo as to not wake her up.

“See you Sunday,” you whispered, giving him a soft smile.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Spencer replied.

[forever-rogue]

For the 390 prompts, how about #381 “You weren’t supposed to hear that.” with Catfish... My devil side want to make it angst but it's totaly up to you 😭 🌱

It’s angst hours, baby!

Pairing: Frankie x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: language

MASTERLIST

FRANKIE MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Hey,” Santi slipped into your abandoned stool at the bar next to Frankie. You were all at the bar for weekly get together, but Frankie had noticed you seemed down from the moment you walked in. He was attuned to you, very much so from years of being your closest friend, but it hadn’t taken much to see that you were upset. Your lips barely managed to curve into a smile, and your eyes had a heavy tiredness behind them, despite your best efforts to appear happy, “you heard about what happened, right? With Bee?”

“I...no? She hasn’t said anything to me,” his brows knitted together in confusion as he downed the rest of his beer. A sense of worry settled into his bones at your behavior; it was so strange and unlike you, “w-what happened?”

“Mark,” Santi dramatically rolled his eyes at Frankie before flagging the bartender over for another round of drinks; it seemed like you could all use it. Rage boiled in his blood at the sound of the name; he’d hated Mark from the day the two men had met. It wasn’t just because he was the man that had won over your affections, although that was definitely a large part of it, but because after a while it was clear that he was genuinely an asshole. He wasn’t good, or good to you, but for some reason you’d never seen that. You ended up putting up with so much shit that you’d normally never take from anyone else. Frankie’s grasp around his empty bottle was so tight it was a surprise it didn’t shatter into little pieces, “he cheated on her...she finally dumped him.”

“He cheated on her? That fucking asshole,” Frankie almost jumped out of his spot as every bad thing he wanted to do to the man that broke your heart bubbled up, “I will-”

“She found them together,” Santi put his hand on Frankie’s arm to calm him down, “and apparently he still tried to make it seem like her fault. She’s really upset, Fish. Don’t make things worse right now. I know - we all know - how you feel about her. Give her time and space.”

“I’m her best friend,” he huffed as he slid out of his spot, “I need to be there for her. I’ll just...I’ll make sure she’s okay. I don’t understand why she wouldn’t tell me...:”

“Why do you think, Fish?” Santi cocked a brow at his friend before letting out a long sigh, “she knows you’ve always hated him. She doesn’t want you to do anything stupid and get yourself into trouble. She loves you too, you know. Even if she doesn’t realize that.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Everyone knows it,” Santi was amused at how blind the both of you could be at times, “it’s so obvious to everyone...except perhaps the two of you. The way you look at each other, how you act...that shit ain’t just friends shit. You both know it.”

“Then why did she date Mark? For almost two years and waste that time on him?” Frankie grew frustrated as he slid off the stool and hit the dirty floor of the bar with a dull thud, “why wouldn’t she say anything to me?”

“Why haven’t you ever said anything to her?”

“I don’t want to lose Bee,” he pulled off his old, batted cap and hand a hand through his curls in frustration, before slapping it back on his head, “I’d rather keep her as my friend forever than face a life without her.”

“There’s your answer.”

“I’ve got to see her,” he insisted, brushing past Santi, “I have to let her know.”

“Don’t - give her time and space,” Santi grabbed his arm and insisted, “don’t push her just because he’s gone. She’s hurt and been through a lot. Be her friend and let things happen on their own.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Frankie snapped as he pulled out of Santi’s grasp and headed to the back of the bar, where he’d seen you step outside and disappear a little bit earlier.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were pacing around with your phone pressed to your ear as you tried to keep it together and not break down into another fit of tears and sadness. The whole day had seemed like a blur, one painful, horrible nightmare and you just wanted it to be over. You just wanted to sleep and wake up and have no memory of anything. Perhaps not even the last two years.

“I can’t believe he did that to you,” your sister sounded as incredulous as you felt, “you’ve been so good to him, more than he deserves honestly, and for him to do that? Asshole. I am so, so sorry for what he did to you, babes.”

“Me too,” was all you could choke out as your lips trembled with effort not to cry. You looked at the inky black sky, dotted with glittering stars as you tried to ground yourself.

“At least you’ve got the guys with you. If he does or says anything, you know they’ve got your back,” she reminded you, causing you to experience a momentary pause of peace, “and now you can finally tell Frankie how you feel.”

“No,” you insisted firmly as Frankie stepped outside, quiet as a mouse as he tried not to interrupt. He hadn’t meant to be sneaky and listen in, truly, but now that he was there, he couldn’t stop himself, “I’m not telling him anything.”

“You love him! You’ve been in love with him for what? Almost six years?” she scoffed at the other end of line, “you have to tell him how you feel, now is the time. He’s not...he’s not to wait for you forever. If you love him, let him know.”

“I don’t,” you lied thickly, steeling your nerves as you bit back bile. It was hard to lie; especially when it came to Frankie. He was everything you were not: good, gentle, pure, loving. He didn’t deserve to have you dragging him down. He deserved the world - something you felt you could never give him. He would be so much better off without you, no matter how much you actually loved him. 

“You’re such a liar!” she insisted as you groaned, “the two of you are in love! You’re just blind fools, scared to get hurt.”

“No!” you shouldn't have called her, you should have just gone home and cried yourself to sleep like you had planned on, “I don’t love him! I don’t love Frankie. He’s nothing but a friend and he’ll never be anything else!”

Frankie’s breath hitched in his throat as he listened to your angry tirade. He must have heard wrong...surely you hadn’t meant it, right? Santi had said...everyone had told him….he loved you. But...you didn’t love him? He needed to get out of there and fast; he left like he was going to be sick. But as he turned on his heel, he almost slipped on a rock and made a small sound of surprise. 

You froze in fear at the sound, realizing for the first time that you weren’t alone at all. Your sister was still babbling away at you, calling you a liar as you turned around and found Frankie, frozen in fear as he tried to get back inside. You swallowed thickly, knowing exactly what had happened; he had heard your blatant denial of love. The lie you wish you’d never spewed. Ending the call without a word, you stepped closer to him as his own eyes appeared glossy with tears.

“Oh Frankie,” your voice cracked as more tears rolled down your cheeks. Could this day really have gotten that much worse? You wished the earth would open up and swallow you whole, “you weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“I wish I hadn’t,” he admitted quietly, “I came to look for you, to make sure you were okay. Santi told me what happened.”

“Frankie, it was a lie,” you might as well tell him the truth now. There was nothing left to lose at this point, and he deserved to know the truth finally, “I was talking to my sister and it was all a lie. I didn’t mean it. I-I do love you-”

“You don’t need to lie to me now to spare my feelings,” he stared at the ground before slowly opening the door to the bustling bar back open, “if that’s how you feel it’s how you feel. I just...I should have known better. I was the fool, not you.”

“Francisco, don’t go,” you darted towards him but he was already inside and weaving his way through the crowd, barely acknowledging your friends as he made to leave, “Frankie! Frankie! Don’t do - don’t walk away. It was a lie to get her off my back and because I….”

“Because what?” he turned around, and the look on his face was enough to break your heart then and there. His cheeks were already tear stained and his eyes were nothing but hurt, as you struggled to find the right words. After a few beats of tense silence, he shrugged, “I’ll see you around, Bee. Eventually...I just need some time to deal with my own feelings. I’m sorry I thought there could ever be more between us.”

“Francisco,” his name was a pitiful whimper as you watched him get into his truck and start, leaving without hesitation. Your hands flew to your face as you stood there in panic, “what have I done?”

“Bee?” Benny came up behind you, confused as he looked between you and the spot Frankie was previously parked in, “what happened? Is everything alright?”

“I think I just fucked everything up,” you admitted as you let him pull you into a hug, “I think I just lost the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“He’ll come around,” Benny promised, although it felt hollow, “it’s Fish. You know he will.”

“I hope so,” you cried, “I sure hope so.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[stutterfly]

Failure to Communicate

This was a joint collab fic that @gukslut​ and I worked on, commissioned by @cypherft-v as part of our fundraising for Black Lives Matter. Thank you for contributing! Banner & moodboard by me :)

{Pairing} Park Jimin/ Reader

{Genre} Enemies to Lovers/ College AU/ comedy/ smut

{Rating} Mature - Explicit 

{Word Count} 21K

{Warnings} oral, kissing, fingering, protected sex, biting, marking, other filthy shit

{Summary} You've always had a crush on Park Jimin, but the truth is that you're just one of many. He just so happens to be the TA for one of your classes, and you're determined to make your feelings known. Whether or not he takes you seriously remains to be seen.

{Prompt} Could either of you write an enemies to lover story about jimin and y/n set in college where he was her TA and got her kicked out of her major bc he didnt give her the grade she needed and was generally unhelpful? Posted on tumblr on August 17, 2020 by stutterfly and cross-posted to Ao3. I do not allow reposting, translations, or edits, to any platform, including YouTube.

Ten more minutes. You can barely see the clock from your seat against the wall. The lecture hall isn't crowded by any means; to the contrary, this Tuesday/Thursday psych class is usually pretty empty. You could have just as easily sat in the middle, but it doesn't afford you the same view. Well, it does. But not the one you prefer. It's just that positioned front and center, your staring would look more obvious. At least that's what you're telling yourself. If you stare from the corner it's less conspicuous, which is important because you do a lot of staring in this class. Park Jimin is the TA.

The man in question sits off to the side at a table of his own, typing away on his laptop. This reminds you that you haven’t been doing much other than quietly ogling from a distance. The only notes you're taking are lackluster doodles of his appearance and the occasional squiggle of your pen at the quiet sighs he lets out when he stretches his back after sitting hunched over his laptop for too long.

Jimin is absolutely breathtaking — even in an ugly plaid three-piece suit and perfectly round spectacles that would look horrid on any normal person. You're definitely not the only one who has noticed. His beautiful features and fantastic bone structure forge a man who is borderline ethereal. With soft eyes, big pouty lips, a flawless complexion, and a flirtatious demeanor he has enraptured many over the years. He's popular... like, really popular.

You begrudgingly count yourself among those love-smitten numbers. You know it’s hopeless and illogical. He could have any person he so desired at any point in time. Why would he ever choose someone like you? If you’d been paying any sort of attention to the subject matter of this class you might know that things like feelings and life’s rhetorical questions often don’t make sense.

But you’re shit at psychology. You’re more of a blunt poet at heart, and that heart is often hidden behind twisted brambles of anxiety and sharp thorns of insecurity.

You are but a speck of dirt upon his round glasses. It’s been a hopeless, silent crush for some time, but now that he’s assisting the professor in this core requirement for your academic studies, he has to acknowledge your presence. You’re a speck he has to look at before swiping you out of sight with a wave of his hand.

He's the object of just about everyone's affections, and rightfully so. He's not just gorgeous, he's charismatic, charming, and such a smooth talker. The word on campus says those pretty lips of his can do a lot of other really wonderful things too. You've been watching him chew on them for the past five minutes straight, wondering how many times his deliciously pink tongue can sweep over them before he makes them chapped.

Maybe they're chapped already. Maybe you should offer him your chapstick? Or maybe you should never talk to him at all, because you don't stand a chance. Park Jimin would chew you up and leave you bleeding out with a broken heart, and you know it. That doesn't stop you from imagining all the ways he could take you in his mouth first. You could watch those pretty lips all day long, but you’ll settle for an hour on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Looking up as if he's been paying attention all along, Jimin attempts to figure out where the professor is in the lesson. It’s obvious that he wasn't listening at all and was instead answering messages. It would be nice if he could say they were messages for class, but that's not true and Jimin is a lot of things, but he isn't a liar. He's been talking to Chungha, his current flavor of the week.

He turns toward the students as the professor dismisses the class and there you are, eager and awestruck. It takes every ounce of self control Jimin has not to roll his eyes. Another fan, he presumes. You can't handle him, but he can tell by the embarrassed way you tear your eyes from him to look anywhere else that it hasn't stopped you from thinking about it.

Trying to seem nonchalant now is a lost cause. Jimin has no shame and although you busied yourself by packing up your neglected textbooks and darting your gaze to various points in the room for a straight minute, Jimin is still staring at you when you look back at him. He smirks when your eyes meet. It's not a flirty kind of smirk, you sadly note. It's condescending in your eyes, which further solidifies your theory: Jimin is too much for you no matter how badly you want a taste of him.

"Did you take notes?" he asks, nodding toward your backpack where you've just tucked your computer and sketched up notebook.

"I- uhh..." You panic.

"You know that was all about the exam next week. You're gonna need those notes if you want to have any hope of passing it," he tells you, shoving his own computer into his bag.

"I was just.. um, I was--" you attempt to explain.

"Busy staring at me?" He smiles and you know he knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s teasing oh gyou.

You balk at the blatant accusation and force a half-laugh, half-scoff from your throat. “No.”

"Yes," he corrects with a light and mellifluous laugh. "Is there pen on my face or were you hoping you could be?"

"What?" you choke, eyes watering at the idea.

Jimin shakes his head, laughing softly to himself as he remembers his surroundings. With a small clear of his throat and the subtle adjusting of his tie, he provides a suggestion for you. “Get them from Taehyung.”

"Get what?" you ask, drawing a blank on what this conversation was even about. It's the first time you've ever actually talked to him outside of your dreams and it’s proving to be a lot harder than you thought it would be.

"The notes, Y/N. Get the notes from Taehyung, you know, the ones that you didn't take today because you were daydreaming about my mouth," he tells you, heading for the door.

Taehyung, who is the only other person left in the room wiggles his fingers at you in a wave. When you turn back, Jimin is gone.

"Need the notes?" Taehyung asks, voice free of judgement.

"Please," you sigh, relieved that he'd waited.

He spins his laptop toward you, where an email is already open with the notes attachment added. "Drop your address in there," he says standing up.

"Thank you so much," you say, frantically typing your student email into the space.

"Hey, y/n?" Taehyung asks, the bristles of curiosity or concern painting his tone with a soft comfort.

"Yeah?"

"Jimin is a fool," he tells you.

"What?"

"If you were looking at me like that, I'd at least ask for your number." Tae offers a combination of large hopeful eyes and a giant goofy grin as he holds his phone out for you.

Giggling, you take it from his hand and add your number to his contacts list. He purses his lips to hide his excitement as he takes his phone back. He slides it into his pocket before hastily packing the rest of his things into his leather messenger bag.

"Thanks, Taehyung," you say, waving on your way out the door.

"Wait!" he shouts after you, half of the contents of his bag threatening to spill onto the floor as he scrambles away from the table. He adjusts his belongings and clears his throat, instantly adopting a smooth persona. "Where are you going? I'll walk you."

"My car?"

"Wanna come eat with me?" he wonders. He's confident, but it's not the same kind of arrogant confidence that Jimin oozes. He's softer. He feels more real, more attainable. He obviously knows he's a catch and he’s definitely expressed the same about you. What could be the harm in letting an attractive man stroke your ego a little bit? If you’re being honest with yourself, you can use the boost after such a pathetic display towards your crush.

"Oh, uh... yeah. I guess so," you agree, letting him lead the way out the door.

"Cool." Tae takes his glasses off and hooks them in his shirt. Pulling a snapback from his bag, he pushes his hair back and puts it on before he swings his messenger bag over his shoulder. Damn. Why did that raise his hotness like ten whole levels?

"You like hamburgers?"

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

Taehyung slips into the seat next to you on Thursday, brushing against you very deliberately as he passes.

"Hello, sugar," he says, licking his lips as he spares a fleeting glance down at your chest.

"Hey, Tae," you greet him while your eyes are still locked on Jimin.

"Still on Jimin, huh?" he asks. He doesn't sound particularly disappointed, or surprised for that matter. He's just stating a fact. You're relieved he's not offended. Letting him eat you out in his backseat after dinner was probably not your best decision, although it seems like it meant about as much to him as it did to you.

"I don't know," you say with a shrug.

"It's okay. I can't blame you. I could put in a good word for you if you want. We're close," he informs you, sitting back and spreading his legs wide under the desk.

Sighing, you rest your cheek in your palm. "I've got a plan," you confess.

"Oh yeah?" he chuckles. He playfully knocks his knee against yours as if to signal for you to spill. "Do tell."

"I think I need a little extra help with this material," you tell Taehyung.

"Good luck, Y/n. I hope he can squeeze you into his busy schedule, but hey, if he can't, I'm totally down to squeeze into yours anytime."

Looking at Tae out of the corner of your eye, you smile at the grin he wears and start to laugh at the way he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

"I'll keep that in mind," you joke.

"Please do."

The minutes drag on as you wait for this class to end. Doing your best to seem a little less obsessive this time, you make a point to take notes and look at the teacher more than the TA. Jimin still catches you staring at least three times. It's embarrassing, but not enough to stop you from approaching him as the room empties out.

"Hi, y/n," Jimin sings, giving you a knowing smile.

"Hi." You tuck your hair behind your ear, and smile back.

"Do you need something?" he wonders, purposefully combing his fingers through his silver hair.

Damn, do you ever.

"I was wondering if you had time to help me. I'm struggling with this material and I could really use some one-on-one guidance." Leaning over his desk you make sure he has a good view right down your shirt, not that his eyes wander from yours. While he shows restraint in his gaze you swear he briefly drags his bottom lip through his teeth before he catches himself.

"One-on-one, huh?" He sticks his tongue in his cheek, looking amused. "I bet Taehyung would give you some one-on-one guidance."

You're sure that's true, but it's not Taehyung you're after. Taehyung isn’t the TA. Taehyung isn’t getting paid to help teach a course. Of course you want to say that and in your head you rehearse the words but you can’t seem to find a way to phrase them eloquently enough. Why do you always get stupid brain around him? Your plan is quickly falling apart.

Jimin waits for your response with his eyebrows raised. You know he's two seconds away from leaving you gaping at him and walking out the door, so you do something incredibly rash and stupid.

"I like you," you blurt out.

Jimin smiles. He knows that, obviously. He also knows damn well that you're perfectly capable of looking back at your notes by yourself. You're definitely smart and dedicated enough to study on your own. He can't help teasing you anyway.

"Everyone likes me," he casually informs you as he plants his palms on the desk and leans on them.

He peeks over the edge of his glasses as he looks up at you, like some kind of otherworldly sexy librarian. If deities ever needed a librarian, Jimin wouldn’t even need a resume. His charm and seduction are so strong that you almost miss his rejection. Almost. You're stunned into silence when it hits you. Just as you're about to tuck and run, he smiles again.

"But,” he pauses to click his tongue thoughtfully, “I think I have some time on Saturday. I'll give you my number.” He rips a corner of paper out of his notebook. "Is it okay if I come to your place? Do you have a dorm or…”

"Oh. My apartment’s fine!" you flounder, trying to remember how to speak coherent sentences. Jimin. In your room. How many dreams have you had about this moment? "I mean, yeah, sure. You'll come to mine, yeah."

Jimin giggles and it sounds like pealing bells. You're lost in the beautiful sound of it until you realize that he's laughing at you. "You okay with that? We could meet somewhere else instead."

"I wouldn't mind you in my room," you sigh. Open mouth; insert foot.

He raises an eyebrow, giving you a chance to backtrack, but you're both well aware you meant every word of that.

"Okay, y/n. See you Saturday then. Call me."

"I’ll call you," you repeat, resisting the urge to slap your palm over your face. You sound like an idiot. Stupid brain strikes again.

Jimin barely notices, all too used to girls falling over themselves to get his attention. You’re no different to him, just another pretty face in a sea of women entranced by the way he walks, talks, and breathes. It’s not his fault he’s so damn pretty. He does note that you’re brave, however. Not many people come on to him so brazenly, and that’s something worth rewarding. Besides, he feels a sort of obligation to help you out. He is getting paid to help out the professor, after all.

He winks at you as he leaves, taking your breath and your sanity with him. You have Park Jimin’s phone number. Park Jimin is going to be in your apartment in two days. Maybe you didn’t bomb that as hard as you thought.

A slow clap beckons you to look back for the source and you find Taehyung looking back at you with his boxy grin. When he’s sure he’s got your attention he raises his two thumbs up in approval.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

Jimin is not surprised when Chungha disappears into the clusterfuck of bodies as soon as they step into the party. They may have come here together, but their fling is on its last leg and they both know it. She wants him off her couch, doesn't appreciate the feeling of tied-down-ness that comes with your friend with benefits staying over all the time. She's ready to move on, that means he has to as well.

Jimin isn't even sure whose house this is, but he’s happy to tag along for free booze and maybe a new face to go home with. Luckily, his friends are never far, and he finds them easily. Getting absolutely hammered in the backyard makes them hard to miss. Jungkook is the only one looking particularly bored as a very drunk Taehyung hangs all over him talking about the sweetest thing he ever tasted.

"Why so glum?" Jimin asks, nudging Jungkook's shoulder with his own.

"I'm the designated driver tonight," Jungkook sighs, pushing Taehyung off of him.

Taehyung slumps to the ground, immediately entranced by the stars above him. Jungkook kicks at him gently.

"Where's your girlfriend? I haven't seen you without your tongue down her throat all week," Jungkook wonders, looking behind Jimin for the woman in question.

"Girlfriend," Jimin repeats with a snort. "Hilarious. That's not a thing. She's probably looking for her next kill."

Jungkook regards Jimin thoughtfully, his eyebrows scrunching toward each other. "If you take over DD you can have the futon."

Jungkook loves his futon. It's one of his most prized possessions. He keeps it very clean and being allowed to get anywhere near it is a privilege. Jimin is pretty sure he goes over it with a lint roller as part of his nighttime routine. It's also incredibly comfortable.

Jimin releases a breath in a tortured groan as he thinks over his options. He could get black out drunk and wake up god knows where with a terrible hangover, or he could hang out and watch his friends get black out drunk and then wake up on a futon that feels more like a cloud than a mattress, a little slice of heaven in Jungkook and Taehyung's little apartment.

"Okay," Jimin relents. "Give me the keys. I’ll stick to water for the rest of the night."

"Ah, I love you man," Jungkook praises, tossing his keys in Jimin's general direction before grabbing the newly opened can of beer out of Taehyung's hand below him. Taehyung, still staring up at the sky with a glazed smile, doesn't react. It takes Jungkook all of five seconds to pour the contents of the can straight down his throat. He follows this by smashing the can in a bicep curl with a giggle and a bashful smile.

"Do it again," an unfamiliar girly voice pleads from across the table. She tosses him another can and he repeats the action, turning away when he's finished so that he doesn't have to see her reaction. Jimin knows what's going to happen once his friend gets a few more beers in him. Jungkook is going to go apeshit. There will be no trace of this shy hunk of muscle who blushes and coils away from pretty girls. He'll be chest thumping shirtless and picking up everyone who gets close enough to touch. Half of them will probably end up thrown in the pool, if history is anything to go by, and he'll most likely have the hottest girl at the party slobbering all over him in the backseat when Jimin drives him home tonight.

Jimin's suspicions prove true an hour later when Jungkook throws Tae in the pool. Jimin runs to the edge of it in a panic. Tae was very drunk so he needs to make sure he's not just sinking like a stone. That was his first mistake, although he'd make it again to keep Taehyung safe. His second mistake was wearing these ridiculously tight ass jeans.

Any other pair and he might have been able to pry his cell phone from his pocket the second he felt JK's hands on his back. Had he worn any other pair of pants he might have been able to throw it to safety in the grass before he hit the surface of the pool. As it stands, his skin tight jeans are soaked through, Tae is slightly more sober than he was when Jimin arrived and is swimming just fine, and Jimin's phone is totally destroyed.

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You should be sleeping. It's three in the morning. You should definitely not be awake right now. Lifting your phone up for the three hundredth time tonight, you're not surprised to have no new notifications. That text you sent to Jimin hours ago has gone unanswered.

You typed and erased it at least ten times, agonized over what to say, and how to say it. By the time you pressed send, the message was nothing like how it began and you noticed a second too late that you didn't even tell him who you were. Adding a second text saying 'it's y/n btw' seemed so desperate. You've been waiting for him to ask who you are for so long that you've convinced yourself he already knows and he's avoiding you on purpose. Who else would have said "i'm excited to see you tomorrow" in a text about meeting up to study? He knows it's you. He has to. The alternative possibility that he plans to see other people tomorrow too is too bothersome to accept. You really need to let this go and try to sleep.

Keys in the door stop you from dragging yourself off the couch. Your roommate will see you and accuse you of trying to run away from him to avoid something. He’s right, of course. You’ve attempted to flee from your problems in the past, against his advice. Now you know better than to try. It's much better to face things with Yoongi head on. At the very least, maybe he's got something helpful to say.

"Why're you up? You look sad." His words slur just the tiniest bit and he leans against the wall for stability as he takes off his shoes just inside the door. You see right through his attempts at nonchalance. He's tipsy.

"A boy I like isn't texting me back," you admit with a scowl. "You didn't drive, did you?"

"No, friend dropped me off. Is it Taehyung?" Yoongi asks, not pausing for an answer. "I wouldn't worry too much. He talked about you a lot tonight. He was really drunk though. You should go to bed. He'll probably text you in the morning."

You don't bother to correct Yoongi. Admitting you're harboring a huge fucking crush on the campus it-boy is the most foolish thing you could possibly do. It's embarrassing and naive and Yoongi would pity you for falling for someone so far out of your league. Maybe you should just date Taehyung and forget about Jimin. He sure seems to have forgotten about you.

When the morning comes and your only notifications are an email from Target and a text from your mom, you muster up every bit of courage you could possibly find in your body and call him. You’d rather know if he’s deliberately ignoring you now than agonize over other possibilities all day.

It doesn't even ring. His phone goes straight to voicemail. You try again, and a third time. Voicemail, voicemail. Could it be you rushed putting his number in and did it incorrectly? You dig through your backpack for the slip of paper he gave you to double check, and sure enough, it’s his number. He's ignoring you. He turned off his phone to solidify that fact in your brain.

Last night, laying awake waiting for his name to light up your phone, you felt pretty damn bad. In the daylight, with rest and a clear head, you're absolutely crushed. He was supposed to come over. You had plans. It was stupid of you to think you could earn space in his mind or time in his schedule. He played you, and it hurts.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

Studying on your own proves more difficult than you imagined. With only Tae's notes to go by, you feel like you're quizzing yourself on things you already know. Turning to the textbook doesn't give you the specialized knowledge you need for the exam. You could never hope to memorize enough of it that you'd retain something pertinent.

On top of that, your heart hurts. You were so close to spending time together you could practically smell the subtle scent of his cologne. He pulled the rug right out from under you so fast, your ass is sore from falling on it so hard.

Sunday and Monday pass miserably in their slowness as you continue to nurse your tender rejected heart. You spend two days mulling over how you're going to face Jimin on Tuesday, let alone how you’re going to pass this exam when you're so disgustingly focused on figuring out why he stood you up and ignored you all weekend.

Tuesday comes too soon and you find yourself lingering outside the lecture hall for way longer than any sane person should.

That's what bothers you the most about this whole thing with Jimin. He's stolen your sense. How on earth did you let a stupid crush, on a boy you hardly know, get between you and your grades? You tell yourself no more as you suck in a deep breath and steel yourself to march right through the door. You're not going to let Park Jimin and his cruelty stand between you and your credits.

With your resolve solid and your head held high, you push yourself forward. You don't even spare a glance in his general direction as you pass, although it would be a lie to say you didn't clock him in your peripheral. Tae sits down next to you a moment later and you thank your lucky stars you have a friend here to make you look busy.

"Ready to make this exam your bitch?" he asks, making finger guns at you and clicking his tongue.

"That remains to be seen," you say, turning toward him in your seat so that Jimin is behind you. "I couldn't get anything done this weekend," you confess. "I thought I was more prepared than I am so it really just depends on what's on the exam."

"Aw fuck, you could have called me," he says, passing you his note cards. "We could have studied together."

"Oh, Tae," you sigh, pushing his hand back and refusing his offer of notes. "You should use this time for yourself. It wouldn't be fair of me to take it from you."

"We've got ten minutes." He points to the clock at the front of the lecture hall. "Quiz me. It will help us both."

Ten minutes fly by as you do your absolute best to retain any of the information in Taehyung's carefully written cards. You take one last glance at it before someone slips it from your hand and replaces it with a test. You know it's Jimin.

Only when you look up and level him with a glare does it seem to register on his face that you're angry. Realization dawns on him as you snatch the test and lean over it on your desk.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry," he quietly whispers, but he's moving on already. The exam is about to begin. He doesn't have time to explain himself right now. He knows what it looks like. He led you on and stood you up without so much as a text message. He should have asked Tae to tell you what happened, but the truth is that he forgot about you entirely and he knows that is the cruelest thing he could possibly confess.

Nearly an hour later you set your pencil down and run your fingers through your hair. Did any of those answers make sense? Your only possible saving grace is bullshitting your way through the open responses. Maybe you’ll earn some partial credit at the very least.

You swallow the petty words threatening to spill from your tongue as you gather your things and approach Jimin’s desk with your test in hand. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t notice the anxious glances he threw your way. You swore every time you looked up he was looking at you, so you’d squint like you were checking the time, like you had somewhere more important to be than taking an exam for a core requirement course.

As you slap the packet of your evident failure down on his desk, you don your best apathetic expression. You look down at him and allow a sliver of eye contact, just enough to send the message that you don’t care anymore. You try to look bored. He doesn’t deserve to see how he’s hurt you or angered you. He’s nothing to you. You’re nothing to him, but you’re not beneath him. He’s beneath you. You don’t just look at him; you look through him.

He blinks a few times and a chill runs down his spine. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words won’t form.

“Don’t bother. I don’t care,” you whisper with a roll of your eyes.

You make sure to straighten your shoulders and keep your chin up as you turn on your heel and leave. You bombed that exam and you know it, thanks to your stupid feelings, but at the very least you achieved the victory of shaking Park Jimin to his core. So why do you feel like you’re about to sob in the bathroom down the hall?

Oh. Because you are. You spend at least five minutes composing yourself and washing your face before your phone buzzes with a much needed distraction.

[NEW MESSAGE] Tae: hungry?

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Jimin’s leg bounces uncontrollably under his desk while he waits for the remaining students to finish their exams so he can go after you. He wracks his brain for ways to clear the nervous tension dwelling within but it’s no use. Confrontation makes him so uncomfortable. Still, he can’t have you thinking he’s a total douche. He should text you. Fuck, he should call you. And he would, if he had a working phone. The second the last student drops their exam on his desk he’s going to find you and apologize.

He knows his reputation precedes him. He knows exactly what this looks like. You probably think he blew you off to get some or just led you on entirely, but he really did mean to meet up with you. He needs to clear the air. Maybe he’s a little loose with his morals at times, but he’s never an asshole on purpose. He prides himself on being a beacon of positivity and an example on how to make people feel good even if it’s only to make them feel good. He barely knows you, but it bothers him to think that you’re out there thinking he’s a heartless jerk and that he hurt your feelings on purpose.

It’s a big campus and Jimin spends the better half of an hour searching it before he finds you in the cafeteria with Taehyung. You look awfully close, and he almost feels bad interrupting you, but he owes you an explanation. It’s a mystery to him why on earth you would seek out his company when Taehyung seems all too willing to be what you need.

Taehyung notices him before you do. He shakes his head at Jimin disapprovingly. “Cold, man. So cold.”

Jimin nods, hanging his head. He’s well aware. You haven’t turned around yet and don’t intend to. If Jimin can ignore you then you can ignore him too. Besides, if you turn to face him, he might notice your watery, puffy eyes. How incredibly foolish that would be to admit that you’ve been crying about being stood up by someone you’ve barely even spoken to.

“Y/n?” Jimin’s soft voice calls to you, melodic and soothing as ever. “Can I have a minute?”

Taehyung looks between the two of you while he moves a french fry into his mouth at a snail’s pace and slowly chews as if this is free entertainment.

“No,” you answer.

“I’m sorry about Saturday,” he tells you, progressing despite your refusal to listen. He plants his hands on the table beside you and leans in to try to steal a glance at your profile, but you turn your head away.

“Jungkook pushed me in the pool right after this asshole,” he says, pointing at Taehyung. “My phone was in my pocket. It’s ruined.”

“Hey,” Taehyung interrupts, his mouth open in protest and full of half-chewed fries. “Don’t pin this on me. You could have asked any one of us to let her know what happened. You never even mentioned it. Why don’t you just admit that you forgot?” Taehyung suggests, jamming another french fry into his little paper cup of ketchup before cramming it into his mouth.

Jimin fumes for a moment, glaring at Tae before he pulls out the chair next to you and spins it around. He straddles it and rests his chin on the backrest. “Y/n, I’m sorry. I forgot. I swear I never would have done something like that to you on purpose. My phone getting ruined messed up a lot of things, but if you give me another chance, I’d love to prove that I’m not the horrible person you think I am.”

Silence. You glance over at Taehyung, willing him to speak up and either back Jimin up or get you out of this. You’re ready to forgive Jimin already and leave with him right now and it’s not lost on you how bad that looks. It’s so easy for Jimin to have you wrapped around his fingers. You wish he was ugly. You wish you never signed up for this stupid class. You wish you could feel for Tae the way you feel for Jimin so that you could just leave with him instead. You’re about ready to anyway when he finally opens his mouth again.

“I think you should take her out to eat. Eating out is the perfect way to apologize, don’t you think?” Tae’s grin is so wide it makes his eyes crinkle.

You huff out a humorless laugh. If that’s what you wanted you’d stick with the original plan and be in the backseat of Taehyung’s car again in the next twenty minutes. Against your better judgement, you turn to look at Jimin, puffy eyes and runny nose no longer hidden. He’s a little taken back by your expression. He smiles at you softly and reaches out to brush his knuckles against your cheek. You practically melt into his touch.

“Mmm, I would like something sweet.” Jimin licks his lips. “How about ice cream?”

“When?” you ask, embarrassed by the way your voice cracks and by how easily you’re giving in.

“Now?”

“Well, look at the time,” Tae says, standing with his tray and messenger bag. “I’ve got to go wash my hair but you two have fun on your date. Use protection!” he calls behind him on his way toward the exit.

You’d be irritated by his blunt suggestion if his statement didn’t swirl a storm of butterflies deep in your gut. You’re so distracted by them that you don’t realize that you’re still gaping at Jimin in disbelief.

“So?” Jimin wonders, holding out his hand.

“I don’t forgive you,” you insist while taking it into yours. Although it’s probably a lie, he doesn’t call you on it. He simply smiles and gives your hand a tiny comforting squeeze.

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“My car is on the other side of campus,” you tell him once you’ve stepped outside. “Where are you parked?”

“Oh, um,” he stalls. “I thought it might be nice to walk, give us more time to talk. Is that okay?”

“Isn’t it kind of far?” you ask, assuming he's taking you to that chain ice cream shoppe a few miles off campus.

"No, this place is close. It's a secret. Not many people know about it," he says with a wink.

"You say that to everyone don't you?" You narrow your eyes at him, moving out of reach when he tries to put his arm around you.

"No," he laughs. "I've been here with other people, though. I was here with Jin last week." He smiles, leading the way toward a small alley between buildings.

You follow him easily, questioning again why you have so little self preservation when it comes to him. At the other end of the alley you can see what looks like a park. Green trees line the sidewalk up ahead, creating a canopy against the brilliant sun. The walk to this mysterious ice cream place is shaded and chilly. Jimin slips his jacket off and slings it over your shoulders when he notices you rubbing at your arms.

"Almost there," he promises. In the distance, framed by two towering oaks, is a tiny little ice cream place. It looks like a mirage, something out of a board game or a fairy tale. The closer you get, the more real it becomes. The siding is faded, the roof looks like it's in dire need of repairs, and the hand-painted sign reading The Cheery Cherry has seen better days. It's clean though, sparkling in all the places that matter.

There is a stout old man behind the window with a shining silver ice cream scoop ready and waiting in his hand. Jimin greets him by name and asks for a simple vanilla cone. You're tempted to judge him, he doesn't strike you as the vanilla type, but there must be a reason. Maybe this is the best vanilla ice cream on earth. You order the same just in case, taking your first taste as Jimin pulls a few bills from his wallet and hands them over with a shaky hand.

To your dismay the ice cream is not extraordinary; it's just plain vanilla. You could probably get the same exact type from any grocery store. You should have gone with something else. You should have at least gotten the cheery cherry cone. That might have been a flavor worth tasting. Why was he so bent on coming here for such a bland ice cream?

You suppose you should be thankful for the gesture but you still feel uneasy, like he’s playing you somehow. It almost feels like he’s doing it out of obligation rather than desire. Is he doing the bare minimum because he doesn’t feel like you’re worth more than this? Your company must be the equivalent to a plain vanilla cone. Mediocre. Unremarkable. Ordinary.

Forgettable.

Jimin turns back to you with his ice cream in one hand and change filling the other. "Is it good?"

"It's vanilla." You shrug.

"Do you want something different?" he asks, counting the money in his hand.

"No, I like vanilla."

"Figures," he teases.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you snap back at him.

"Nothing, sweetheart. I just think you're soft, sweet. Vanilla suits you."

"I am not vanilla. I do all kinds of freaky shit," you argue, realizing too late that you've over shared in your annoyance.

Jimin looks you over with a smirk, bringing his ice cream to his lips and dragging his tongue around the edge of the cone where it's dripping. "Noted," he says.

"I didn't mean-- I wasn't -- UGH," you huff, embarrassed that he's still making a fool of you from the doghouse. You need to change the subject fast. "What'syourmajor?" You rush the question past your lips and he laughs at your flustered state, waiting for you to slow down and ask him in words he can understand.

"Your major?" you repeat, slower this time.

"Oh, uh. Urban studies."

"Interesting."

"You don't know what that means, huh?" He nudges you with his elbow, falling in stride beside you. Unfortunately, you had just brought your ice cream up to your mouth and his nudging caused you to smear it across your cheek.

You look at him angrily. First he stood you up, forgot about you, then he had the nerve to show up to class today looking like a fucking angel, takes you for ice cream to make it up to you, and now he's teasing you and making you look every bit the fool you feel like you are. Tears well in your eyes when he laughs at the mess he caused.

"I'm sorry," he says through his giggling. He reaches out to gently wipe your cheek with his thumb which he promptly pops in his mouth and sucks clean after. "What's wrong?"

You swipe at your eyes, ridding them of the tears that were about to spill out as your shame bubbles over. "You make me feel stupid," you confess. "You're wasting my time."

Shoving his jacket back at him, you take off in the direction you came, throwing your stupid vanilla cone in the closest trash can and kicking yourself for not leaving with Taehyung instead. Jimin winces at the action, looking like you’ve discarded a precious keepsake rather than a plain, boring vanilla cone.

"Y/n, wait!" he calls, catching up to you with ease. He takes you by the wrist and spins you back to face him. "I don't think you're stupid at all. I’m sorry I’m so bad at this.” He sighs, softening his hold on you. “I didn’t know what to think about you when you approached me at first, you know? Girls throw themselves at me all the time.”

You grimace at his words and roll your eyes, snatching your wrist back with a scowl. Of course he thinks you were throwing yourself at him, but you’re sure that you weren’t. You were just being direct about your feelings. Do you really come across as such a desperate person? Maybe you should ask Yoongi for his opinion later.

“But I definitely didn’t mean to stand you up and I don’t mean to make you feel stupid at all. I think you're pretty smart, you’re cute and you’re actually bolder than I initially thought. I'd love to get to know you better. I know I'm not doing so great so far, but I can be better. Please, sit with me?" he asks, walking to a nearby park bench.

Reluctantly, you follow, although you make a point to drag your feet the whole way there. When you sit down beside him, he loops an arm around your waist and draws you closer, offering his ice cream up to you once your legs brush against his. You reach for it but he pulls it away.

"Hey," he jokes. "Just lick it. I didn't make you throw yours away."

You shake your head and lean forward to drag your tongue over what's left of his vanilla cone.

"Forgive me?" he asks. His toothy smile catches the sunlight and it genuinely hurts your eyes to keep looking.

"Okay. One more chance," you agree. "So, urban studies?"

He relaxes back against the bench, taking another lick before he offers the cone to you again. "Yeah, it's like community development and stuff. What about you, princess? What are you studying?"

You flush at the nickname, heat rising in your face and other places you'd rather not acknowledge. You're oblivious to the fact that you're having a similar effect on Jimin. The way you're licking his ice cream is making his pants feel a little tight.

"Teaching," you tell him, picking at the peeling paint on the bench.

"Little kids?"

"Yeah." You take another lick of his ice cream while he holds it, looking up halfway through.

Jimin's expression is unreadable, stunned almost. He shifts a little, crosses his legs, clears his throat.

"Kids are fun. I have a younger brother," he tells you.

"A lot younger?"

"No," he laughs. "But he's a total baby so it's basically the same.”

“Oh, does he get that from you?” you tease with a giggle.

His mouth drops open in surprise. “Hey,” he pouts. “That’s not nice.”

“I never said I was nice,” you tell him, taking another slow lick of his ice cream.

“Clearly,” he scoffs with a roll of his eyes. He drags his lip through his teeth to try to hide the smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

You manage to cram so much conversation into the next twenty minutes on this park bench, learning more about the mysterious campus celebrity than you ever thought you’d know. You hope his interest wasn't feigned, because it felt so fucking good to have his attention, to have him really listen to you and ask you about your life and your family and your hopes for the future. If you're not mistaken, you might think this was real progress.

Jimin watches you walk back toward campus with a soft smile and an unfamiliar feeling brewing inside him. You've surprised him. You're not the naive infatuated little girl he took you for. If he had a phone he'd be texting you already. He'd call you tonight, and maybe tomorrow. It's alarming to him how badly he wants another ten minutes with you. He hates that you declined his offer to walk you to your next class, but damn does he ever appreciate the view.

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Thursday comes quickly. After your initial ice cream date, Jimin has found himself curiously seeking your attention rather than the other way around. With his phone out of commission he was hanging around the cafeteria all day yesterday in hopes of catching you. While it’s clear you don’t trust him and you haven’t forgiven him, you seem to have softened up a bit. You spent your meals together and allowed him to walk you to your classes, all while exchanging playful jabs at each other. You might forgive him for bailing if yesterday stood alone. Today is a whole different story.

Now Jimin is staring down a stack of graded exams the professor has dropped on the table at the front of the room. Students haven’t begun to trickle in yet so when the professor takes the opportunity to excuse himself, Jimin wastes no time in flipping through the pile to get a sense of the overall success of the class. When he gets to a test marked in thick red marker with an ‘F’ his stomach drops. He knows it’s yours before he even reads the name. He was hoping maybe you’d been lying about not paying attention.

He shuffles the exam back into place and straightens the pile just as the earliest student walks in. Jimin offers her a wan smile and a tiny bow of his head as a greeting. Although his stomach is still sinking and churning, he’s already thinking about ways he might be able to make it up to you.

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Jimin finds you in the cafeteria with Taehyung again, where he has you distracted from your misery by folding and unfolding a cootie catcher in front of your face like you're in third grade and not your third year of college.

"Pick a color now, y/n," Tae urges, opening and closing the folded paper four times after you've indicated the triangle marked 'pink.' "Hmm," he ponders. "It says you need to relax."

"What is this, a fortune cookie? I thought these things were like truth or dare, or like... who I was gonna marry," you complain, flicking the craft from his hands.

Jimin picks the paper up off the floor and hands it back to Taehyung. "Do me," he says.

After a moment of pointing and folding, Tae announces, "It says you need to apologize. Again."

Jimin looks at you while Tae packs up his stuff. After dropping a kiss on the top of your head he leaves for his next class. The action makes Jimin furrow his brows and frown. A feeling too uncomfortably close to jealousy blooms in his chest. Why did that bother him so much? He's not ready to acknowledge the answer to that. Instead, he contradicts it by reminding himself that Tae is one of his closest friends and it's cool that the two of you are getting close too.

"Princess?" Jimin's song-like voice drifts to your ears once Tae has disappeared. You've pressed your face into your folded arms on the table and it's taking everything you have not to start crying about your failed exam again. "I'm so sorry," he whispers, laying his hand against the small of your back and beginning to rub soft circles there. "I'm sorry I didn't help you."

"I wish you were ugly," you mumble into your arms.

"What?" he laughs, leaning his face down next to yours.

You lift your head to meet his eyes. "If you were ugly this never would have happened," you insist, sitting up and shaking his hand off your back with a twist of your spine. "Just be ugly! FUCK."

Jimin smiles before screwing his face up into the most unrecognizable grimace he can manage. He holds it until you start to smile then switches to another terrible expression, with his chin tucked into his neck so that it morphs into several chins and crosses his eyes for extra emphasis on its ridiculousness. When you start to laugh he sticks out his tongue to make it worse.

Once you’re clutching your stomach and doubled over with pealing laughter, he gives you the beautiful smile you're so used to again. "Let's do something fun together," he offers. "And then after that, we'll get studying and make this right. Please let me make it up to you."

"Okay," you agree, leaning into his open arms. It only took a couple days of spending time together to remove the awkwardness you felt when he touched you. He's even held your hand a few times while you walked together after your other classes. Now, his embrace feels welcome and comforting. You still can’t tell if he’s just trying to be nice or if he actually likes doing it but you don’t mind at all.

"There's a party on Saturday, will you come with me?"

"Where?" you ask, as if you have any hope of refusing him at all. You'd go anywhere with him and you know it but you want to try to play it cool. Your tone seems more tepid than you anticipate but he doesn’t seem to call you out on it.

"Jin's," he tells you, reaching for your hand and lacing your fingers together.

He rubs his thumb against the back of your hand while he waits for you to pretend to decide. You relish in the motion. The tingle of butterflies erupt in your belly again like a cannon aimed at your heart, ready to sink it in an instant. Instead of falling, your heart seems to fly up to your brain and a light giggle escapes your lips.

"Okay. I'll come," you say in a euphoric brain fog, looking down at your joined hands. It's scary how good it feels to have his attention like this, but you hope it doesn’t stop.

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"Why are you home?" Yoongi asks, finding you on the couch when he emerges from his bedroom. His late afternoon nap went longer than expected, leaving you believing he was out for the night. You settled in with Netflix and snacks of your own. He flops down next to you, causing you to swing your feet off the couch before they get squashed beneath his butt. He yawns and lets his head dip forward as he pulls out his phone and begins flipping through it.

"It's Friday night,” he reminds you, his tone scratchy. It makes you giggle.

"I didn't wanna go out alone and I thought you were gone. You're gonna be up all night now, you know."

"I would have stayed asleep but I've got a friend in need," he mumbles, rubbing the remainder of sleep from his eyes.

"Aww, you're so good to me." You beam, snuggling up to him and wrapping him up in a tight hug.

"Not you," he huffs with a disgusted grimace. “Ugh, that’s enough touching.”

You immediately pull back and scoff. “Wow. You’re lucky I know you know you love me.”

He rolls his eyes. "That’s debatable.”

“Yeah, okay,” you mock him in a tone of disbelief. You pop a chip into your mouth. “So why are you really up— if not to support your wonderful, beautiful, perfectly sculpted local couch potato?”

He smiles and steals the next chip from your hand before you can shove it into your mouth. “If you're good with it, my friend is gonna crash on our couch for a few days. His parents cut him off and he’s got nowhere to go. He’s almost got enough saved up to get his own place, but he could use some help in the meantime. Figured we’re doing alright and we have a couch. You cool with that?"

"Sure," you agree, trusting Yoongi's judgment. He's not gonna let some crazy person stay on your couch. "When?"

"I was just waiting for your approval but I hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to you before I passed out. I'll go pick him up now, if that's good with you," he says slipping his feet into a pair of sandals and looking for his keys.

"What, he doesn't have a car?"

"Sold it to pay for his books this semester. He's got nothing. He's keeping all his clothes in another friend's closet. It's kinda sad."

"That's rough," you agree, blowing out a heavy exhale and turning your attention back to the TV.

"I'll be back in a few. Maybe take it to your room so he can have the couch?" Yoongi suggests.

"Sure, sure," you say, already sucked back into your show and forgetting entirely about Yoongi and his friend for now.

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When Yoongi returns an hour later, you haven't moved. In fact, you’ve crashed… hard. Yoongi and his mystery guest enter to a chorus of your snores and the Friends theme song.

“Hey, get up,” Yoongi urges, nudging your shoulder lightly.

When you peel your eyes open to look at him, you’re utterly mystified to see the object of your affections a few feet behind him, standing awkwardly in your kitchen with a duffle slung over his shoulder.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you blink a few times to clear your vision. You want to be sure it's him before you open your mouth. He's there, in black sweats with a grey hoodie pulled up over his white baseball cap. “Jimin?”

“Oh good you know him," Yoongi says with relief coating his tone. "I’m gonna get him some blankets. Think you can take your Netflix marathon to your room?”

"Yeah, I can do that," you mumble, gathering up your mess and disappearing into your room without another word.

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Alone in your room, you conjure up a hundred reasons in your anxious mind that could explain why Jimin thought he had to keep this huge secret from you. He’s got nothing? Maybe he was afraid you'd tell people. Suddenly, it makes so much sense why he's always walking everywhere.

You think back to Tuesday at the Cheery Cherry. His usually steady hands were so shaky handing over those bills he pulled from his wallet. You think of how tightly he clutched his change and even counted it out afterward. If you hadn’t been so preoccupied with your own thoughts of inadequacy, you might have been able to put it together on your own. Your stomach drops when you recall the insulting way you threw your vanilla cone in the trash. The scene replays over and over again until you’re crying into your pillow.

Guilt keeps you awake until well past midnight as you turn these unsavory ideas over and over in your head, looking at them from every possible angle and over analyzing every detail of the time you've spent together thus far. Your eyes are now wide and dry, fixed on a black spot on your ceiling that you're hoping is just a speck and not a spider. The quilt in your hands is frayed, giving your nervous hands something to pick at while you let the silence drive you mad.

The soft knock on your door at half past one is a relief. Yoongi does his best cooking at odd hours, usually bringing you a plate if you're awake. It's a surprise to find Jimin outside your door instead. He awkwardly shifts from foot to foot until he finds your eyes in the dim glow of your table lamp.

"Did I wake you?" he whispers, head leaning against your door frame.

You shake your head, looking down at your skimpy sleep shorts and the university hoodie you pulled on to open the door. “I was up.”

“Can we talk?”

“Of course,” you answer, stepping aside so he can come in. Your eyes scan the room nervously, checking for underwear on the floor and counting the half empty glasses of water on your nightstand. If you knew Jimin was going to be in your bedroom tonight, you would have cleaned up. At least you didn’t leave your vibrator out in the open. You don’t think you’d recover from the embarrassment of that.

Jimin follows you to your bed, perching on the edge once you’ve settled back against your pillows.

“I feel like I owe you an explanation.”

“You don’t,” you respond immediately. “I’m happy you’re here.”

“Then why did you run away?” he asks, pulling at his hoodie strings.

“I wanted to give you space. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. You didn’t tell me what you were going through and I didn’t want to…” you trail off, unsure how to articulate just why you ran away.

“You didn’t want to embarrass me? Hurt my pride?” he asks, sarcasm evident.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. “You don’t owe me an explanation. We aren’t that close.”

“That’s the problem,” he whispers. “I want to explain. I want to be that close to you.” He leans towards you, resting on his hands. He looks confident despite his current situation and it worries you a little. How can he be so sure of himself when he’s crashing on your couch and apologizing to you again for the fourth time in less than a week?

The Jimin you’ve gotten to know recently seems to disappear, leaving on the smooth talking playboy in his wake. He seems too calculated to be genuine. The words he whispers don’t seem like words meant for you. He is him, after all, and money or not he’s still the greatest catch on campus. And you, much to your dismay, are still just you. Unassuming, uninteresting, unexciting you. You’re the plain vanilla cone he’d never ask for if he had the means to get the banana split.

“Why?” you skeptically ask, pulling your knees up to your chest.

Jimin bites his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth while he thinks. “You’re special,” he says. “You’re cute and funny and I like spending time with you. You make me feel like I can be myself with you.”

“But you don’t trust me?” you ask, obviously referring to the elephant in the room. He didn’t tell you he was essentially homeless. How much of himself can he truly be if he was keeping that from you?

“I didn’t want to scare you away, and most girls I… see, don’t get close enough to find out,” he confesses. “I can’t afford to take anyone out right now. I haven’t been able to for a while. But I’m so close to getting enough for an apartment. That’s why I took the TA job; at the end of the semester I should be ready.”

“Jimin,” you start, unsure what to say. You’re still thinking about that goddamned three dollar ice cream cone you threw away.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he tells you, standing up. “I just wanted to be real with you, and thank you for agreeing to let me have the couch for a few days. I’ll let you sleep.”

“Wait!”

As you scramble over yourself to reach out, you find yourself on your knees awkwardly clutching your hand towards your chest. You’re still worried about seeming desperate but you can’t let that stop you now. Jimin turns toward you, but you’re unsure of what you wanted to say. You only know that you want to be closer to him too, that you’re not ready for him to go, that if he leaves now you’ll lie awake for the rest of the night reliving this short conversation.

“Stay,” you plead, nervously twirling the string of your hoodie around your fingers as you sit back against the pillows. “Talk to me?”

“Aren’t you tired?” he wonders.

You hold out your hand and he crosses the room to take it, standing next to your bed. You pat the space next to you and tug him toward it. “Wide awake.”

Your yawn says otherwise.

Jimin smiles, climbing over you to lay by your side on top of your blankets. He looks at you expectantly once he’s settled but it’s too much pressure for you to lead the conversation. You only know that you want to keep hearing his soothing voice. You have no idea what you wanted to say.

“You look cute,” he says, breaking the silence and touching your nose with the tip of his finger. “Sleepy and soft.”

“You look sexy,” you complain, waving his hand away. “I kinda wanna punch you for it.”

He throws his head back in laughter. “So feisty.”

“I can be boring instead,” you jokingly offer, rolling on your side to face him.

He does his best to keep his eyes trained on your face, despite the fact that all he wants to do is let them wander down. “I just want you to be you.”

That sounds fake. Again, you battle against the idea that this is all a farce, some sneaky way to get into your pants once and leave you wanting for the rest of your life. He hasn’t bared himself to you enough for you to trust him, so you pry.

“Why’d your parents cut you off, Jimin?” you ask.

He looks at you for a second, stunned at your boldness. That’s definitely not where he thought this conversation was going. He takes a moment to prepare his response and sighs.

“They have this restaurant. It’s a small place right off the coast: Jeongsik. My great grandparents started it from nothing and now my parents manage it. They want me to take over since I’m the eldest, but I want to move to the city and have my own life. I don’t want to work in their restaurant forever and my brother loves it and is perfectly capable. They love me. I know they’re just trying to teach me a lesson,” he tells you. He sounds unsure of that last bit. It probably has a lot to do with the fact that he’s got nowhere to live and he’s penny pinching for meals and they’re shunning him.

“And what is that lesson, Jimin?” you ask, trying to dig deeper before he slips back into playboy mode.

“That being a part of Jeongsik is my only option if I want to be successful. That I can’t make it without them.”

“Can you?” The question is quiet and unassuming. You only want to know how bad it really is.

He takes a deep breath and taps his fingers anxiously against the fabric of the pillow. “I can. It won’t be the same, it won’t be easy, but I can.”

After giving Jimin a moment to say more, which he doesn’t take, you push him further. With your heart on the line and this miracle of an opportunity with him in your room, you're determined to learn as much as you can. You need to get under his skin. You need to know him, so you can know if you should run.

"What's your plan then?" you question, shifting closer so you're face to face against the pillows.

Jimin smirks at your line of questioning. It seems to break him from his thoughts. “Well,” he begins. “The Village has some one bedrooms opening up at the end of the semester, and by then I’ll be ready to make a deposit and lease one. After that I’ve got one semester left until I graduate. Then I’ll move to the city and live my life how I want.”

“Won’t you miss your family?”

“They still talk to me. They’re just not paying for school. Or my car. Or my food.” His heavy sigh at the end contradicts the lightness with which he revealed all of this to you.

“I’m sorry, Jimin.” You reach for his hand, familiarity in the way it fits with yours.

“It’s okay. I have good friends, and I have…” he trails off, catching himself and looking away with an awkward huff of a laugh.

“What?” you wonder, heart fluttering at the possibility that he was about to say ‘you.’ “What else do you have?”

Jimin looks up at you, rising up on his elbow. His eyes search your face for any hint of rejection. When he finds only hope, his hand moves to cup your cheek. It’s warm, adorned with rings that contrast the temperature of his skin.

“You,” he breathes, moving closer. You watch his gaze dart down to your lips before your own eyelids flutter closed. “I was going to say you,” he confesses before he closes the space between you and lays a soft kiss against your waiting lips.

He pulls away way too fast, leaving you to panic in the aftermath. You thought you had feelings for him before, but now that he’s let you in, now that he has shown you his heart, there is nothing more to deny. You’ve fallen, hard. The realization makes you feel trapped, like a frantic dying bird in a cage. But your captor is kind and beautiful and the flavor he left on your lips is the most divine thing you’ve ever tasted.

“Then say it,” you prompt him, urging him to accept the affection you’ve been so desperate to give him.

He kisses you again in lieu of words, longer, deeper, until his tongue is dragging over yours. You fist the material of his hoodie in your hands, pulling him towards you while you turn on your back. He’s hesitant to get on top of you, afraid he might be taking it too far, but you’re insistent. You pull and he caves willingly, slotting a leg between yours and letting his hand drift from your cheek to the back of your neck.

“I like you,” he pants when he breaks away. It feels like your heart flies up out of your chest and does a lap around the room, flapping its hummingbird wings like the wild thing it is before it crashes back into its place.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” you plead. “You don’t have to pretend just because you’re here now. I’m a big girl. We can just have tonight.”

You say the words but you know if he leaves tomorrow, you’ll cry all day and probably the day after that too. The truth is, you can talk all you want about how you can do this no strings attached, but you know you can’t. Your strings are so attached to him at this point you might as well be metaphorical shibari.

“I mean it,” he whispers, full, wet lips brushing the side of your neck.

You freeze. You were expecting him to drop the charade and just fuck you or something, but in this moment he exudes tenderness and consideration.

“And because I like you, I think I should go back to the couch before we do something we aren’t ready to do.”

“Stay,” you plead. “We don’t have to do anything, just lay with me.”

He slowly nods and reaches over you to turn off the lamp, planting a soft kiss on your cheek as he settles back into place. You wiggle your form down into the covers and he smoothes the hair from your face before tracing his fingers down your arm. You lean in close enough to smell the subtle clean scent of his cologne. Is it cologne? You doubt it knowing what you know now, unless he’s borrowing it from someone else. You still find yourself enjoying it nonetheless. It’s comforting. Sleep begins to claim you just as he slips his fingers into yours and gives you a tiny squeeze.

“Goodnight y/n.”

You think you respond but you’re in that purgatory state between sleeping and being awake, so you can’t be sure. At least you’re eighty percent sure you gave him a squeeze in return.

That’s how Yoongi finds you in the morning: you tucked neatly into your comforter and Jimin laying on top of it beside you, your hands clasped together in the middle.

“UM!” Yoongi shouts from the doorway, loud enough to wake you both.

Startled, you sit up in bed and look around for the source of the shout. “Fuck! Yoon. You didn’t need to scream.”

“I hope you’re not expecting me to keep this from Taehyung,” Yoongi chides, looking from you to Jimin and back. “That would be quite the moral conundrum.”

“For fuck’s sake. It was never Tae. I am not seeing Tae. We are JUST FRIENDS!” You yell the last two words and chuck your pillow at him for emphasis.

“Okay cool, then Jimin can explain to him whatever this is to him. Jimin, he wants you to call him. My phone’s on the table. I’m taking a shower.”

Yoongi disappears from the doorway and an uncomfortable silence settles over the room. In the light of day, you feel nervous and uncertain. Jimin does nothing to ease your anxiety. He just lays there quietly, unsure what to say.

“Do you want breakfast?” You try to smile and sound as chipper as possible.

He sits up finally and turns his back to you. “I should go see Taehyung.”

He moves toward the door and you feel your chest tighten. “Jimin?”

He turns to you from the hallway, and taking in your confused expression, offers you a smile. “We’re good, princess. I’ll be back tonight, then me and you: party time.” He winks before moving out of sight.

Alone once again, you start to question things. Everything. Are you imagining things or did Jimin seem cold when he left? He kissed you last night, didn’t he? Was everything you talked about too much? Does he regret kissing you? Does he regret staying the night with you without getting anything out of it? You can feel your thoughts spiraling out of control, but you can’t stop yourself from putting up the walls you so desperately wanted to keep down forever last night. It obviously didn’t mean anything to him, despite his claim that he likes you. He probably just meant that he’d like to fool around with you. Like he does with everyone else. You can’t let one night beside him make you think you’re special to him, no matter how badly you want to be.

Knowing you won’t make it through the day without driving yourself completely mad with questions and doubts, you dig your old phone and charger out of a drawer and go after Jimin. He’s leaning over the kitchen counter staring down at Yoongi’s phone when you steal his attention.

“Please take this,” you plead, thrusting the phone and charger towards him.

He looks from the device to you and blinks a few times in surprise. “What?”

“It’s a little old, but if your sim card didn’t get damaged I’m sure it will work in this. I kept putting off bringing it to be recycled.” You laugh nervously as you try to place it in his hand. “But now I’m glad I didn’t. Take it.”

“I can’t accept this, princess. It’s too much,” Jimin says, staring down at the object in your hands.

“Take it for me. If I have to go another day without being able to send you memes I’ll die.”

“Memes?” he repeats, sounding baffled.

“Memes, nudes, the weather forecast. Who cares? I wanna text you. Please take it.”

He licks his lips and smirks at your joke. Was it a joke? It’s hard to tell. He accepts it anyway. “Thank you. I’ll call you later?”

“You’d better,” you tease, offering the grandest smile you can manage before retreating with a slow saunter back to your room.

There’s that view again. He could watch your ass sway in those teeny shorts all day. It takes every last ounce of self control he possesses to pick up Yoongi’s phone and dial Tae rather than sprint back into your room and pin you to the bed. It doesn’t stop him from daydreaming about it though, even as his friend answers.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

“What are we doing?” Jimin stands in the sprawling living room of Taehyung and Jungkook’s shared apartment. Both are from wealthy families that are all too ready to give their sons everything that matches the silver spoons in their mouths. They’ve been blessed with a bachelor pad that looks more like a college movie set than anything normal one would find around campus.

“Pick up a controller,” Tae tells Jimin, completely absorbed in the race on their oversized flat screen TV.

Jungkook hasn’t even acknowledged Jimin’s presence yet. Focused doesn’t even begin to describe the way his eyes bore into the television. He doesn’t break from his trance until he wins. Only then does he sit back with a smug grin, dropping the controller in his lap and just barely resisting the urge to gloat.

Taehyung drops his controller too, turning to give Jungkook a congratulatory fist bump. “Take his place,” he says to Jimin.

Jungkook has already vacated his place on the hallowed futon and moved to the row of cup noodles sitting on the counter. The first cup is half empty before Jimin even sits down.

“I suck at these games, Tae,” Jimin grumbles.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to be good. It’s a ploy to get you relaxed enough to talk about y/n.” Taehyung smiles, knowing Jimin can’t refuse now that he’s cornered.

“What about her?” He feigns nonchalance, as if he didn’t just spend last night catching feelings along with your lips between his own.

Taehyung scoffs, half bewildered, half disgusted. “Come on, Jimin. She’s amazing. You like her.”

“I barely know her,” Jimin replies. It’s a lie he can taste like copper on his tongue. He knows your favorite food, where you grew up, what you study, and he’s already programmed your birthday into his borrowed phone so he won’t forget.

Taehyung clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes. “Okay then. If you don’t give a fuck, I’m gonna shoot my shot. She’s funny, and nice, and her pussy is so bomb it makes me wanna get married, so if you’re not gonna do something about that then I will.”

Jungkook cackles from the kitchen. “Did you fuck Jimin’s girl?”

“She’s not my girl,” Jimin grumbles, staring daggers at Jungkook, just as Taehyung says that he did not.

Jungkook takes his armload of cup noodles into his bedroom.

“I know you like her,” Tae prods. “She’s not some materialistic bitch who’s gonna leave you if you can’t afford lavish dates every other day. She’s a good, genuine person. She just wants your time and your attention. Maybe your heart. She doesn’t care about the other stuff.”

“Yeah? So I can bring her back to this futon after I buy her dinner from the dollar menu?” Jimin’s nose starts to tingle, months worth of frustrations finally reaching a breaking point. “I can’t get in a relationship right now and you know she’s not a fuckbuddy kind of girl.

“Right, because I didn’t eat her out in my car for fun last week.” He’d date you in a heartbeat if you wanted him. But he knows it’s Jimin you want and he’s more than happy to push the two of you together to see you both happy. He values friendship above all things.

“If that’s all you want from her, fine. But I think you and I both know it’s not and she’s too good for you to string along. If you’re just gonna break her heart, do it now before she falls any harder for you.”

“Why, so you can swoop in and be the good guy again? So you can get her off in your backseat?” The words are venom dripping from his mouth.

“Bro.”

Jimin softens. Tae is his dearest friend. He knows he only has his best interests at heart.

“I’m sorry.” He pauses and sighs. “We talked about Jeongsik last night. She knows my parents cut me off.”

Taehyung grimaces. “How’d that go?”

“Now she knows I’m not good enough but it didn’t seem to deter her at all.”

“‘Cause you are good enough and now she can see your true worth as a person, which is a thousand times better than the fake worth of money.”

Jimin seems to consider this for a moment but then expresses the concern gnawing at his insides. “What if she really is just another person who wants to idolize me? I’m really into her, but I need it to be more than that.”

“Jimin—”

“What if she’s after the meaningless title of being Park Jimin’s girl... like every other girl that has pursued me lately?” The words make him cringe. He’s humble and kind, not one to throw bouquets at himself, but those thoughts are intrusive and hard to ignore.

“Tch. Do you know her at all? Do you really think that matters to her?”

“No,” Jimin sighs. “But what if?”

“She admires you. You like her. Stop making it so complicated and let go of those ifs. You’ll never know if you don’t try and I want to see you try because you deserve to be happy,” Tae insists, starting a new game. “Now pick up that controller. I wanna kick your ass.”

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

You’ve spent the better part of your Saturday afternoon picking out your outfit for tonight. Yoongi only teased you twice before helping you select something a little bit more slutty than you’d normally pull out for a date. You’re going to a party after all, not some Sunday brunch with your friends.

When it’s almost time for you to meet up with Jimin you find yourself growing increasingly nervous. You run your hand over your thigh and down your calf, testing for any stubble you might have missed in your meticulous hour-long shaving session. On your way back up you tug on your skirt, eyeing it as though your gaze can simply increase its length. When was the last time you wore this dress?

You adjust and fuss over the way your tits fit inside the garment and puff air out of your cheeks. Yoongi squints at you from across the room. Your door is wide open after all.

“Stop worrying so much.” He sighs and clicks his tongue, crossing the room until he can see you in perfect clarity. “You look great.”

“I feel stupid. I should change. Jimin’s gonna think I’m weird if I wear this.” You try to turn and run back to your closet.

Yoongi plants his hands on your shoulders and spins you back to face the full-length mirror hanging over your door. “Look at yourself. Jimin’s gonna think you��re the hottest one at the party. Look at that makeup game.” He gestures to your face. “Wooo! So strong! Wow!”

Your lips twitch into a smile. Yoongi can be so sweet when he’s not busy pretending like he isn’t the softest man on earth.

“What if he doesn’t actually want me?” you ask, strings of doubt still plucking at your insecurity.

“He does,” he says with all the comfort you need in this moment. “I can tell with these kinds of things, you know.”

“That your like, weird sage sense you’re always telling me about? Reading the horoscopes doesn’t make you a fortune teller.”

He laughs. “Don’t be jealous of my power. Have I been wrong before?”

He hasn’t been, at least not with the advice he’s given you.

You exhale a huge breath and cock your head to inspect your appearance one more time. “What if you’re wrong?”

He hums a soft sound before planting a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Then he’s an idiot.”

A knock saves him from the overbearing hug you’re about to give him. He practically sprints towards the door. “That must be him! Pull your skirt up a little, would you? You’re not a nun and it’s gonna ride up anyway.” He pauses with his hand on the deadbolt and drops his tone to a rather loud, strained whisper. “Wait. What underwear are you wearing?”

Your eyes widen and your brows furrow as you angrily march over to your strappy heels and begin to put them on. “Why does it matter?” you whisper back.

“Are they the beige ones?”

“No!” Your hushed tone threatens to break into a shriek. “You know those are my period panties.”

“Please tell me they’re not the green ones.”

“Yoongi!” You get frustrated and lift your skirt just enough to show off a bit of the black lace adorning your buttcheeks as you lift your foot onto the nearby stool to finish setting the strap in place. “Satisfied?”

He breathes a sigh of relief and nods. “Good. Those are good.”

He opens the door faster than you can register the action. Jimin catches the flash of lace and more skin than he’s meant to see as you swing your leg down off the stool and adjust your dress. Heat flushes your face as you meet Jimin’s gaze. His eyes are wide and he licks his lips before nervously clearing his throat. He nonchalantly drops his hands and holds them together in front of his pelvis.

“You-You look good,” he stammers, completely stunned by your appearance.

“Thanks,” you reply with a shy smile. Park Jimin gets flustered? Who’d have thought?

He thought you were beautiful before but he’s never seen you like this. You’re completely decked out and drop dead gorgeous. He’s almost worried he’ll feel inadequate standing next to you tonight but it doesn’t stop him from wanting you by his side, hanging on his arm. He wants everyone to know that he’s there with you.

The pair of you stand there looking at one another and Yoongi slowly turns from Jimin to you, then back to Jimin.

“Have everything?” Yoongi prods, trying to get you to move so he can get on with his evening of relaxation and lazing about.

That seems to break you from your stupor and you nod and walk forward to hook your arm around Jimin’s. Before you get too far Yoongi calls to you and tests your reflexes by tossing your keys. You’ll need those if Yoongi is dead to the world asleep by the time you get home, which is quite possible. You’re not the most dextrous person but Jimin catches them and smiles at you. When you try to take them from his fingertip he moves his hand away and you swipe at the air. He offers to keep them in his pocket and you gratefully oblige. You pull your phone from its confines against your breast and check on the status of your uber with one hand while slipping your other into Jimin’s.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

Jin’s party is already in full swing by the time you arrive. It looks like something out of a movie. There are glowsticks, red solo cups, a buffet table of snacks, and loud music by the large inground pool. People inside and outside of this big ass frat house are grinding up on each other, dancing, and spilling their drinks on one another. It’s a little overwhelming honestly. You’ve never been much of a party person and this is a monster-sized one.

Jimin takes your hand in his and gives you a reassuring smile. “You want a drink, princess?”

“Yeah.” You grin and breathe a sigh of relief, feeling your insides melt at the sound of his voice. You know whatever happens tonight you’ll be okay with him by your side.

Jimin keeps you close all night, drinking and dancing and stealing the occasional quick kiss. It's pretty clear to everyone who's paying attention that there's something going on between you. You came with Jimin, you're there with Jimin, you're leaving with Jimin. Either Jungkook wasn't paying attention, or he just plain doesn't care. The moment Jimin leaves you alone to run to the bathroom, Jungkook steps up behind you in the chair you’re sitting on.

"Hey, y/n!" He smiles, all teeth and sleepy eyes. You can smell the whiskey on his breath when you turn to face him. "You look so pretty tonight."

"Thanks, Kook." You know he's one of Jimin and Tae’s closest friends. If you just hang with him until Jimin gets back, you'll be able to avoid the advances of all the weird guys here you aren't familiar with. "I like your boots," you tell him, looking down.

He follows your gaze to his feet. "Me too, I hope no one barfs on them tonight," he laughs, lifting his face back up to yours. The words are slightly slurred but you’re still able to decipher them.

His eyes definitely linger on your cleavage on their way back up. By the looks of it, he's on the short list of people who might end up barfing on those shoes. He holds his liquor well, but if you had to guess you'd say he's had more than he should have at this point in the night.

"So, I was talking to Taehyung recently," he starts with a mischievous glint in his eyes. The rest of his sentence seems to get lost in translation on the way to his mouth.

"And?" You smile at him and realize he’s probably too drunk to have anything of worth to say but you wait anyway.

"He told me something." Jungkook smiles so big his nose crinkles and he giggles like it’s the biggest secret in the universe.

You puzzle for a moment over what could have him so giddy before remembering that Taehyung is intimately familiar with your o-face. You'd gotten so close with him over the last two weeks that the details of your first time hanging out had completely slipped your mind. Jungkook is definitely about to say something crass.

"What did he tell you?" you ask, fearing you already know the answer.

Jungkook leans in closer so he can whisper in your ear. An amused giggle spills from his lips like he can’t contain the punchline to a joke only he knows. Somehow he gets his tone under control and finally speaks. "He told me your pussy tastes like heaven and what a coincidence," he pauses, "I haven't had dessert."

Jimin finds his way back to you just as you've moved to elbow Jungkook off your chair. Unfortunately, the alcohol in your system has your brain a little fuzzy and you misjudge the distance and location. You end up elbowing Jungkook right in the dick. Hard.

A circle clears around you as Jungkook doubles over in pain. Jimin steps up next to you, looking down at his friend and trying to piece together what might have led to you inflicting bodily harm.

Jungkook goes from bending over, to squatting, to laying on his side on the floor. He rolls onto his back still clutching the jewels despite the audience of people who have stopped to observe.

“I’m gonna throw up,” he squeaks out.

“Watch the boots,” you remind him as Jimin leans down to help him up and leads him towards something he can barf in. Through the crowd of people, you can see him just barely make it to a trash can in the kitchen. Gross.

Jimin gives Jungkook a pat on the back as he retches and reaches over him to grab a handful of jello shots off the counter. He returns with the rainbow of little cups clutched in each hand. The crowd seems to go back to their business of dancing and talking amongst one another, the random altercation just a fleeting moment in the night.

"What'd he do?" Jimin asks, holding his hand out to you so that you can make your selection.

"He came on to me." You shrug, picking a blue cup and popping the lid off.

"That's it? You elbowed him in the balls for hitting on you?" Jimin raises his eyebrows in shock and laughs.

"Well, it was kind of an accident. But," you pause to bring the plastic shot glass up to your lips, "he insinuated that he wanted to go down on me." You dip your tongue into the Jello and swirl it around the perimeter of its plastic casing.

Jimin watches you gather all the Jello up onto your tongue with rapt attention. He's growing so hard watching your tongue work like that. It’s driving him insane. He wants to feel it on him instead. He’s also now acutely aware of how badly he wants to swirl his tongue around your cunt, just like that.

"That makes two of us," he confesses with an enamored sigh. His hands are still full of Jello shots but that doesn’t stop him from holding your face between them.

He fiercely smashes his mouth to yours and you cave to the welcome intrusion of his tongue. It presses against yours, curling around it as he sucks the blue raspberry flavor from your mouth. You drop the empty cup to the floor and reach for his belt instead, pulling him against you until you can feel him pressed up against your stomach, hard and needy. He grinds his pelvis against you to be sure you can feel him.

“You feel that baby?” he asks, his tone low and sultry.

You grind back with a muffled hum. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re practically dry-humping each other next to the crowd of other sweaty, writhing couples. While Jimin likes how this feels, he’d like to regain the use of his hands. Jello shots be damned.

He pulls away for a second and looks around, depositing all but one of the unopened cups into the hands of the next person that walks by before he squeezes the chosen red one out on his tongue. He leans back in and presses his mouth to yours again. You can still taste artificial strawberry on his tongue. You're not even sure he swallowed before you started trying to lick his tonsils but you don't care. You want him now. You need him.

His thoughts are much the same as his free hand wanders down your back, dipping lower for just a second to feel the curve of your ass and squeeze. When you gasp he takes a step back and looks at you through hazy lust-drunk eyes. His lips are red from the gelatinous treat. You’d love to try and suck the color right out of them.

"Princess," he pants, his hands grabbing at your hips.

"Jimin," you breathe back, pulling him closer again. "Come home with me." It's not really an invitation. He'd be coming back with you anyway since he's currently living on your couch, but this has a different meaning and you both know it. It’s a plea for him to take you to bed.

You make out on the front lawn while you wait for the uber. You make out in the back of the uber on your way home. You make out on the way up the stairs and you leave a heart shaped love bite on his neck while he uses your keys to open the door. You make out pressed against the kitchen counter, and in the hallway.

Yoongi watches the pair of you act like he’s invisible as you stumble your way around the apartment. He has a spoonful of Fruit Loops half-lifted to his gaping mouth and finally takes his bite when you’ve made it to your room. Thank god you closed the door.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

Jimin isn't as shy this time about laying his weight over you once you’ve dropped down onto your bed. You’re warm and he seeks the heat of your body as your hands explore the taught muscles of his chest. They dance around his belt, slipping up over the curve of his perfectly round ass so you can squeeze and pull him against you, inviting him to grind his solid cock into you. Your movements get slower and more focused when you unbutton his shirt. He tugs it off his shoulders and throws it to the floor before helping you pull that tiny excuse of a dress over your head.

You're thanking your lucky stars you had the foresight to put on a matching set, despite how foolishly hopeful it felt at the time. The way Jimin is drinking you in wrapped in nothing but a little bit of black lace is making your head spin, or maybe that's the alcohol.

He sits back on his heels beside you, trailing his fingertips from your throat to the valley between your breasts. He skims over your belly button then side sweeps over your hip and down your thigh, leaving goosebumps in the wake of his touch.

"Wanna take those heels off, princess?" he asks, scooting toward them on his knees.

"I can do it," you insist, planning on making a show of dropping what's left of your modesty. You aren't counting on the way the room turns when you stand up too fast. Luckily, Jimin's reflexes are quick and his hands on your hips steady you before you can actually fall. Standing up is also doing something terrible to your stomach. It rolls and clenches and your anxiety skyrockets.

Parties aren't really your thing, and while Jimin might be drunk he is damn good at controlling it. On the contrary, it's becoming increasingly apparent that you are completely hammered.

"You okay?" Jimin asks, concern dripping from his tone. He stands up and turns you both so you can sit on the edge of your bed.

"I think... I'm drunk," you confess, unable to explain why you suddenly feel like crying.

"I think you're right, baby," he agrees, squatting down to unbuckle the ankle straps on your heels. "Let's get you some water."

Your stomach flips again and time slows as you feel the contents of the evening rise in the back of your throat. Panicking, you look to Jimin with wide eyes and a hand flying up to your mouth. He spins around looking for anything to catch what's surely coming and upends your little trash can. Candy wrappers and old class notes fall to the floor. He thrusts the can under your face just as a rainbow of Jello shots and reappears.

"I'm so sorry," you cry between heaves, tears streaking your make-up down your face.

"Shhh," Jimin soothes, gathering your hair away from your face. When he's sure you've finished, he disappears from the bedroom with the offending trash can and you're left with your horrible, alcohol twisted thoughts.

He's going to think you're pathetic and disgusting. Why on earth did you think you could drink that much?

Jimin returns with a glass of water before you can get much further into your self-deprecation.

"You're never gonna fuck me now," you blabber, your filter lost. Your thoughts are a jumble of sadness and muddled lust.

Jimin laughs. "Well, I'm definitely not gonna fuck you like this. I didn't realize you were this drunk," he softly says. It's a caring statement, not even a little bit condescending.

You should be grateful that he wants you sober for sex, but it only makes you cry harder because you really just want him so badly and you're absolutely certain you've ruined your chances beyond repair. So, you do the only thing that makes sense right now and cry harder.

Jimin wraps his arms around you and leans close to your ear. "I want to, you know. I want to lay you down and touch you all over." He presses a soft kiss to the side of your neck. "I want to taste you, feel you. I want to be inside you so badly, but not like this."

"Please," you whine.

"Sober up first, okay?" he coaxes. "Can I help you get some pajamas? Brush your teeth?"

"Okay," you sniffle.

Jimin smooths his hand up your back, tracing the black lace band of your bra with the tip of his finger. “Do you want to take this off?”

You nod, reaching behind you to unfasten the clasp while Jimin reaches down to the floor for the button down shirt he discarded. He averts his eyes while you shed your bra, then holds his shirt open for you. You slip into it but don’t bother to button it up before walking to your door. He helps you get to the bathroom but you insist on doing it yourself so you can clean up and assess just how fucked up you really look right now.

When you close the door behind you, he makes sure to quietly apologize to Yoongi, who is still scrubbing the trash bin Jimin brought out earlier. Yoongi reaches into the cabinet for the bottle of Advil and gestures to a glass of water already on the counter.

Jimin waits for you to open the door and when you finally do he's relieved that you haven't fallen asleep. You've washed the makeup from your tear-streaked face and brushed your teeth. You've even pulled your hair back so it's no longer in the way. You look at him through a hazy apologetic lens as he offers you Advil and water. The last thing you want to do is ingest anything but if it will help you in the morning, you'll try it for his sake.

The journey from the bathroom back into your room is a blur. All you can think about is crawling back into bed and sleeping this awful feeling away. You struggle with the covers for a moment until Jimin helps you slide underneath them.

"I'm sorry. Don't hate me," you plead in a weak voice.

"Why are you sorry? I don't hate you," he assures you, sitting on the edge of the bed.

He's shirtless. He could have been naked pounding your pussy stupid if you didn't overdo it on the drinks. You hate yourself a little bit for botching this chance, but if he could just put his arms around you again maybe you’d feel okay, like you didn’t blow it.

"Will you hold me?" you ask.

“Of course,” he replies softly.

The light in the room disappears and the mattress sinks behind you. His arms wrap themselves around your waist and his fingers twine with yours.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers when you squeeze his hand.

The heat of his breath brushes against your neck but you don’t close your eyes. You’re too dizzy. Instead you focus on the soothing rhythm of his breathing until the weight of your eyelids wins out against the nausea and sleep finally claims you.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

Your ringtone wakes you late, when the sun in your room is far too bright to be any time before ten. The sound is grating and irritating and you pull your pillow over your head to block it out. Jimin reaches for the phone, you can feel his weight shift and the heat of his skin when he hovers over you.

"Hello?" His voice is gruff and coarse with sleep.

Peeking out from beneath the pillow, you look over to him. His eyes are still closed and your phone is laying on his bare chest, speaker on and screen lit up.

"Gimme your bae," Jungkook's voice calls through the phone.

"She's sleeping," Jimin tells him. Looking in your direction, he meets your eyes and smiles.

You vaguely remember him making you drink more water last night, giving you Advil, and tucking you in. It's a very pleasant surprise to find that you aren’t horribly hungover.

"Wake her up," Jungkook whines. "Bro. She hit me so hard."

Jimin laughs. "You deserved it."

"I know," Jungkook agrees. "That's why I'm calling. Can I talk to her please?"

"You're on speaker."

"Hi, y/n. I got your number from Tae."

"Hi Kook," you croak.

"I'm sorry I was a douche last night. I get stupid when I drink whiskey."

"I accept your apology. Don’t do it again. How's your dick?" you ask, scooting closer to Jimin and laying your cheek on his chest. He wraps his arm around you and kisses the top of your head. The gesture makes you feel warm all over. He likes you.

"It hurts but I'll live. Sorry. For real. Do you guys wanna go eat later?" he asks you both.

Jimin answers this time. "Maybe. We have stuff to do first. I'll text you." He hangs up before Jungkook can say more.

“What stuff are we doing, hmm?” you question with a giggle, trying to play coy.

“Depends how you’re feeling, princess,” Jimin replies, leaning over you again to deposit your phone on your nightstand. He lingers above you, prompting the cautious exploration of your fingers on his chest.

Suddenly, you are acutely aware of the awful taste in your mouth. In fact, you feel gross all over. Not exactly the way you want to experience sex with Jimin for the first time.

“I’m sorry about last night,” you tell him, wiggling out from under his body. “You must think I am the worst, most unattractive human.”

“No,” Jimin says with a giggle. “I think you’re sexy and sweet. I really like you y/n.”

“Nobody likes me.” You scoff at him in disbelief.

“It’s rude to call people nobodies, don’t you think? Especially when they’ve just confessed their feelings,” Jimin teases, sitting up beside you.

“Well, let me at least brush my teeth,” you tell him, holding his shirt closed around you while you rise from the bed. You step around the clean trash can that’s been placed at the side of your bed thanks to Yoongi, noting that there is also a neat row of condoms on your nightstand and a note that reads ‘be done by 5 i wanna watch Dragonball Z after work.’

You laugh and quickly take care of your morning bathroom routine in record time so you can make use of Yoongi’s gift.

When you come back to your room, Jimin is watching you. His lips are drawn down in a pout, his eyes are half closed, and his chest, still bare, rises and falls heavily with each breath he takes as he rakes his eyes over your bare legs and up. His shirt hangs open on your body, leaving a strip of skin visible from your throat to your panties. He licks his lips when your fingers drag a slow line up that strip.

Parting the soft fabric further, you let it fall from your shoulders and pool around your feet. Jimin sits up for a better view and you wait for embarrassment to strike. It never happens. Instead, his gaze emboldens you. He looks wrecked already and he hasn't even touched you yet.

“So beautiful,” he whispers.

His assurance pulls you forward, one foot in front of the other until you’re close enough to touch and his hands are on your hips as you climb over him. He leans back under you as you push forward, connecting your lips with a force that borders on overeager. You can feel him smile against your lips and self-consciously, you will yourself to calm down. You have all day, there’s no need to rush.

When your kisses become soft and patient Jimin decides to take the initiative. He has to have you. He wants to be inside you. He sits up and sinks his hands into the flesh of your ass and begins to pull you down so he can grind up against your clothed cunt. When you moan his eyes roll back for a second and he buries his face into your neck to muffle the sound of his own. His tongue works in circles against you, giving you a taste of what’s to come before sucking a spot that has you burying your hand in his hair and grinding yourself down on him with need. He licks a hot stripe to your ear so he can whisper in it. In an instant he’s flipping you around on your back and grinding his pelvis against yours, allowing the dark desire to consume him.

“You like that, princess? You like feeling my cock on that sweet pussy of yours?”

“Yeah,” you whine, circling your legs around his hips. You can’t manage much more than that breathy reply, he is intoxicating and already you are drunk on his fumes.

“I hear it’s the sweetest. Made me so fucking jealous to hear Tae talk about you like that. You’ll let me have a taste, won’t you? Let me show you how good I can make you feel?”

“God did Tae just go around telling everyone?” you pause when the friction rubs against your clit just right. “Oh fuck,” you moan, imaging the pillowy soft press of his lips on your more intimate areas.

He chuckles in response. “No,” he assures you. “Just Jungkook and me. Don’t worry,” he says, persuading you with a careful roll of his hips that has his shaft parting your folds despite the layers of clothing between you. “He won’t talk about it anymore, and you’ll forget all about it by the time we’re done here. I’m gonna eat your sweet little cunt until mine are the only lips you remember.”

“Please,” you whimper, drawing him into a needy kiss.

His fingers dip into the band of your panties and he teases and tugs at them until you’re squirming and begging him to take them off. His lips trail wet kisses down to your breasts and he pauses to take your nipple into his mouth as he carefully works your last remaining piece of clothing down your legs.

Nudging your legs apart again, he settles between them, ghosting the pads of his fingers up the inside of your thigh as he drags your nipple gently with his teeth. He switches to repeat the action on the other side and cautiously slips a finger between your folds, parting them and testing your wetness. Much to his delight, he already finds you soaked.

“Jimin,” you breathe out. “Please.”

“Be patient for me, princess. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” He sits back on his knees between your thighs and uses his thumbs to smear your arousal over your lips. He groans something deep and tortured when he spreads them open.

“Y/n, holy fuck,” he whispers. “You’re perfect. So perfect.”

Heat rises to your cheeks at his praise. It feels like some kind of worship the way he looks down at your cunt, watching his fingers disappear inside you. His satisfied hum is like a hymn to the divine way your hot, slick walls squeeze him, a prayer to the mere idea of having that wet heat wrapped around his needy cock.

“Tae didn’t tell me you were so tight,” Jimin admits, looking up at you under his eyelashes.

“He only used his mouth,” you tell him, throwing your arm over your eyes. “I’ll never forget his lips if you keep talking about him.”

That seems to spark a fire in Jimin. His eyes grow dark and wild. He wants to ruin you. He presses his lips to the inside of your thigh and begins sucking marks into the soft flesh while his fingers continue to pump inside of you. He slowly works his way down, making sure the red spots he leaves behind are sufficient enough to last for days. He makes sure you’ll have the reminder of his face between your legs every time you look down.

“Jimin don’t tease,” you beg, bucking your hips up to seek the warmth of his breath.

“I’m not teasing,” he chides. “I am savoring.” He curls his fingers and presses his thumb to your clit, making your legs jolt. “Trust the process.”

“Jimin--,” you start again, but you’re cut off by the first touch of his lips. It’s barely there, just the ghost of a kiss on your mound. It’s immediately followed by the flat of his tongue, pressing down as he moves it lower, slipping his fingers out as he descends. His tongue parts your folds instead, circling your dripping hole and then dipping inside it.

“Mmmmm,” he hums. “Fuck, you’re sweet.” He spreads you with his thumbs again and goes back for more, lapping at your wet cunt, swirling around your clit, sucking your folds into his lips. But it’s not just the action, it’s the drive behind it. He’s insatiable, moaning at the taste, bucking his hips into the mattress when you whine for him.

Your fingers tangle through his silver hair, twisting and pulling as he devotes himself to your undoing. He moves with you when you grind up against his jaw, stealing a glance up at your face. Jimin feels his cock twitch at the sight of you; breasts heaving, mouth hanging open, eyes squeezed shut. He’s leaking so much precum he can feel it soaking through his boxer-briefs. He’s almost afraid he’s going to lose it and cum in his pants.

“You gonna cum for me, princess?” he asks, lifting his face to push his fingers back inside. He pumps them hard, curling and searching for that elusive spot while he presses soft kisses to your clit. He alternates between flicking his tongue and rubbing against it with his lips, pausing every few seconds to whisper encouragements with warm breath puffed over your swollen bud.

“Come on, baby. Do it for me. Cum for me, princess. Let me taste it.”

“Please Jimin. Pleeeeease. I need you to suck it. Suck it harder,” you beg. “Right there. There! Don’t stop! Please! I’m so close.”

Jimin keeps steady for you despite your trembling thighs. He pounds your g-spot while he sucks as hard as you can take. Your mind goes totally blank, consumed by an orgasm so powerful you can see fireworks bursting behind your eyelids. Heat spreads from your core down your legs, up your spine.

“I’m cu— cumming— Jimiiiiin!” you cry, legs trapping his head like a vice. Your fingers leave his hair in favor of squeezing at your breasts as you ride out your orgasm. You buck your hips when he doesn’t let up after you’ve come down from your high.

“Take your pants off,” you pant, shoving at his head.

He finally pops off with a grin, his chin and lips covered in your slick.

“What if I’m not finished down here?” he teases, dipping his head back down to lick a stripe up your slit. Your whole body jumps when he touches your clit with the tip of his tongue. “Oh?” he feigns shock. “Sensitive?” he smugly asks, going back for one more taste.

“I wanna suck your cock,” you tell him, lazily pulling your legs up and turning your body away from him. You keep your eyes on him as you turn just enough to hang your head off the edge of the bed.

“Are you for real right now?” he asks, standing slowly. The tent in his pants is obscene.

“Please, Jimin. Just a little bit?”

“You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he sighs, tugging the zipper down on his jeans and letting them and his underwear fall to his ankles. He kicks them off and steps in front of you, smiling down at your upside down face, a little dumbfounded to have you wanting and willing to have him like this.

Your mouth waters at the sight of the swollen mauve tip standing at attention. He’s rock hard and so thick you’re not sure you can take him in your mouth, or your cunt for that matter. You’re glad he warmed you up with his fingers because you’re already clenching tight at the thought of that thick cock splitting you in two.

He reaches for the row of condoms as you take him in your hand and give him a few pumps. Just as he rips off one of the packets, you guide him towards the entrance of your mouth. You swirl your tongue against the tip and he drops everything, focusing on the way you tease him instead.

He inhales sharply. “Fuck. Who’s the tease now?”

You run your tongue along his shaft and smile when you get to the tip, giving it a quick kiss. “I’m savoring. What happened to trusting the process?”

He drags his lip through his teeth and clenches his jaw as you put his patience to the test but lucky for him you’re kind. He doesn’t have to wait long. You close your lips around him a moment later, reaching around his hips to guide him deeper, controlling the depth of his thrusts until he learns your limits and leans over you. With his hands on your breasts he rolls his hips. He can feel the tip of his cock bumping the back of your throat. He moans when you gag around him.

“That’s it, princess. Suck it. Just like that,” he praises.

Jimin is careful with his pace, and tender with his touch when he twists your nipples. He thinks he’s in control. He thinks he can take this just fine, despite the fact that your mouth feels fucking incredible. It’s when he watches you part your thighs and slip your hand between them to finger yourself while he fucks your mouth that he realizes he’s got none of the control he was so certain of. His balls tighten and he pulls out quickly and squeezes them, pinching at the tip of his cock and leaving you gasping for the breath you couldn’t catch with him in your mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. I need a second,” he huffs, eyes closed, standing perfectly still. He breathes slowly and deeply. If you could peek into his brain you’re sure you’d see any number of boring things trying to distract him from the image of you fucking yourself with your fingers while you sucked his cock. It’s futile. He’s certain he’ll see it in his dreams.

“Did I do something wrong?” you wonder, shuffling around so that you’re laying back on your pillows.

Jimin ignores your question. He knows you’re well aware he almost came in your mouth. “I need to be inside you like, now,” he says, picking up the condom again.

You watch him tear it open and roll it on with his one knee pressed into the mattress and his other foot on the floor.

"Come on then," you coax, opening your legs for him to crawl between.

He pushes two fingers inside you on his way up, dragging them out slowly and smearing your wetness around your pussy before he lines his cock up and sinks in to the hilt in one smooth press.

You gasp as he fills you, feeling the stretch of his girth, and he hushes your whimpering and brushes his nose against yours. "I'm sorry baby," he soothes. "I'll go slow." He seals the promise with a kiss before hiking your legs up high around his waist and wrapping his arms around you.

He lies still like this, waiting for the green light while he kisses you breathless. He moves to your neck when you break away to inhale, sucking more little bruises in the skin there. "Tell me when."

"Move," you moan. "Move. Fuck me."

Jimin pulls out slowly, leaving just the tip inside. He pushes back in just as slow, repeating the action several times until it looks like you're about to cry.

You need it so badly. It feels cruel to have him rocking so gently inside you when all you want is to be ruined by him. "Harder," you plead.

"Are you sure?"

"Don't make me beg," you whine.

"What if I want you to beg?" he jokes, dropping his hips against you. It's almost hard enough to satisfy you.

"Then I'll beg."

Jimin groans, dropping his head to your shoulder as he sets a brutal pace. He pounds into you, forcing the air from your lungs with his powerful thrusts, rolling his hips like his life depends on it. "You're so fucking good for me, princess. So tight. Feels so fucking good."

"Go faster," you tell him, grabbing a handful of his ass.

Shifting higher on his knees, he picks up the pace. Sweat beads on his forehead and over his lip. It beads in the dip of his cupid's bow and you lick it away before raking his bottom lip through your teeth.

“You feel my fat cock baby?" he asks. You moan in response pulling your legs higher so he can fuck you even deeper. "You like the way I fill you, don't you? Want me to fuck you full of my cum? Take it," he grunts. "You take it so fucking well. You gonna cum for me again, baby?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts.

Jimin pulls out when you start to clench, not quite edging you but stealing the pleasure you were high on nonetheless. You whine at the loss of him, walls fluttering wildly around nothing.

"Can we try something?" he asks, lifting your legs and putting them to the side.

"What did you have in mind?" you wonder. You reach for his cock but he's already moving, nudging at your hips until you turn.

"Up on your knees for me, princess," he instructs. He kneels behind you once you're in position and smooths his hand up your spine, guiding you gently down onto your elbows. “Is this okay?”

“It’s good,” you assure him, wiggling your hips a little to get him moving again.

He teases your slit with the tip of his cock, dragging it through your folds and rubbing it against your clit. Finally, he pushes back inside you, coaxing a fresh wave of arousal with the stretch of his girth. It’s deeper like this and impossibly you feel even more full than you did before.

“Oh, Jimin,” you sigh, dropping your face into your folded arms. “Jimin.”

“Good?” He folds himself over you, pressing his chest to your back and sliding his hands from your hips to your breasts.

You thrust yourself back into him as you answer. “Perfect. You?”

It takes him by surprise but he follows your lead. He drives himself into your cunt while massaging your breasts and kissing your back. “Fuck, y/n…” he moans, letting his teeth drag over your shoulder before he bites down.

You hiss at the sting and he soothes it with his tongue and puckered lips.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous taking my cock like this. Feel how deep I am. You’re squeezing me so tight, baby.”

“Jimin? Jimin, I need—,” you gasp out between thrusts.

“What, princess? What do you need?” he questions, releasing a breast to play with your clit instead. “Want me to pull your hair? Want me to fill you with my cum?”

“I wanna ride you.”

“Oh, fuck.” Jimin pulls back immediately.

He lays down beside you and grabs at your waist, guiding you over his cock and holding on tight as you drop your weight and take him completely. Swiveling your hips, you set a pace slow and steady. Jimin’s thumbs rubs soft circles into your skin as you move.

“Go faster,” he urges, unable to keep his hips from rising to meet yours.

You shake your head ‘no’ and continue with your slow rolling pace.

“Please, y/n. Ride it like you wanna cum with me.”

Smirking devilishly, you slow down even more and lean over him with your hands on either side of his head.

He looks down, watching your breasts sway and the way his cock disappears over and over.

“Fuck, y/n. PLEASE,” he whines, roughly grabbing your hips and pounding up into you.

Your startled laugh quickly turns into desperate cries of his name. His cock hits your g-spot directly. It feels so good you don’t even think you need him to touch your clit to make you cum. But he does. He pinches your bud between his fingers while he slams into you, growling and moaning and begging you to cum with him.

“I’m close,” he grunts, licking his fingers and rubbing furiously at your clit.

“Me too,” you whine. “I’m gonna—”

You don’t have time to finish the thought as he takes you over the edge with him. He slams his head back against the pillows as he pumps his hips and cums to the wild pulsing of your orgasm. Your cunt milks every last drop from him and you cry his name, clutching his wrists and letting your head fall back so you can wail your pleasure at the ceiling.

Jimin gasps, picking up his head to look down at how your pussy spreads open around him. Your slick cum coats the condom and his mouth waters, remembering the sweet tang of your taste. You’ve barely stopped grinding on him when he sits up to push you down on your back.

Pulling out, he kneels beside the bed and pulls you to the edge by your legs so he can gently lick you clean. He exhales a hot and heavy breath, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before standing up to peel the loaded condom off his softening cock.

“That was… wow,” you pant, staring up at the ceiling for a moment as you try to regain your breath.

He’s already back at your side, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you towards his chest.

“Yeah,” he agrees while softly combing his fingers through your hair. He’s tired.

You smile against his sweaty chest and plant a soft salty kiss against him. Through the corner of your eye you see the row of untouched condoms on your nightstand. “We’ve got a lot left. Wanna go again?”

He hums a deep throaty sound and laughs when your hand falls to his limp cock. “I want to, but I need a bit to recharge. I can make you cum again while we wait. Do you want that, baby?”

“I always want that. But you don’t have to.”

The groan in his throat sounds croaky as he leans in to kiss your forehead. “I want to.”

He reaches down to wedge his fingers between your thighs and your whole body jumps at the sensitive sensation. How dare your body betray you in this moment?

“Seems like you might need time to recharge too,” he teases while nuzzling against the top of your head and squeezing you in a warm embrace against him. “I’m okay with just laying here and holding you.”

“Yeah?” You smile and cross your leg over his to get more comfortable. “Mmm. You can always help me study for the next test while you’re here.”

Laughter bubbles from his throat. “Are you trying to seduce me for answers to the exam? You know I don’t grade them, right.”

You roll your eyes and scoff, barely containing your giggles as you look up at him. “I don’t think I need to seduce anyone for answers. My head feels a little clearer now.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” he prods while playfully ghosting his fingers down your side.

“Because I know I can be distracted outside of class now instead. I mean, if you wanna keep doing this,” you explain while nervously drumming your fingertips on his chest. “I know I’m not anything special, but—”

Jimin lifts your chin and pulls you into a deep kiss. “You are,” he whispers when he pulls away.

You lick your lips and blink a few times. “I was gonna say you make me feel like I am the most special vanilla ice cream cone on the planet.”

His shy, warm smile fills your stomach with butterflies even as he makes his joke. “Want me to lick you up?”

“And so much more.”

It’s a weighted confession. You sit up to look at him so he knows this. He purses his lips and casts his away. He was avoiding this conversation.

“I don’t know how much more I can give you. I want to be what you deserve, but things are so hard right now. I don’t know that I can be someone who’s good enough for you. You deserve to be showered in gifts and taken on dates. You deserve to be given flowers every day. I don’t even have a car to take you somewhere for a vacation. I’m not sure I can be what you want.”

“Just be yourself,” you state plainly, cupping your hand around his jaw. “That’s what I want. So far I like the person I see. I like you, the real you.”

“I like you too,” he blurts, eyes snapping back to meet yours. “But I can’t afford—”

You press a finger to his lips. “I don’t need expensive dates or fancy gifts. I don’t need you to take care of me— well, last night was the exception and you didn’t need money for that. I just want you to be with me. Talk with me. Spend time with me. Maybe have lots of sex? I don’t know, we can figure out the rest later.” You laugh, embarrassed by your own boldness.

“You see everything that I am and you still want me.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re amazing. Now I know for sure you’re too good for me. But,” he pauses and slips his hands into yours, “I want to keep seeing you. I like talking to you and the more time I spend with you, the more certain I feel about the choices I’ve made. No one’s ever made me feel so free. I want to hold onto that feeling. I want to hold onto you.”

You tell yourself not to cry as you straddle his waist and hover above his lips. “I’m yours then. Are you mine?”

He catches your lips between his and buries his hands in your hair. “I’m yours.”

[peach-the-owl]

I loved seeing the Gentlemen saves Jester's kid in the Rescued piece you wrote, could we have some more of the Gentlemen and Jester's kid? Maybe them calling him Grandpa?

Sorry this took so long, it started as one thing and then turned into something I didn't originally plan for… Hope you still like it 😁

The Little Things You See

Child of the Nein (Jester & Child!Reader)

(More of The Gentleman & Child!Reader but you get the idea)

As much as you’d like to help the Nein in their missions there were a few exceptions here and there were you would have to stay behind, one such reason being the group getting tasked by the Gentleman to look into a… as Jester put it, bad version of her mother’s job.

"This is for grownups only okay, no sneaking along." Jester re-informs, you give her a nod. "I mean it, this isn’t just a fight the bad guys and win, we have to be a little more sneaky and I don’t want you to get caught in something really inappropriate."

"Okay mama, I promise not to follow." You say holding one hand up and placing the other on your chest to show her you didn’t have your fingers crossed… this time.

"Good good," she hums happily, "and don’t worry you'll be looked after here, right dad!" She calls over to the Gentleman, who rubs at his temples and lets out a groan. He quickly straightens himself out more and goes on to give one more quick briefing to the Nein before they depart, leaving you there with him.

"So now what?" You tilt your head up at him curiously.

"Now I have some business to attend to, while you stay here and don’t cause any trouble." He simply says, making you pout as he turns and walks away from you. You hobble over to a chair and sit yourself down at a table and make a few doodles in your journal as you wait for time to pass, it’s not long however before you start to get bored and fidgety, feeling the need to get up and do something. You slide off the chair and have a look around, something catches your eye and a mischievous look crosses your features…

"What did I not just tell you!?" He looks at you with strong annoyance. The bar fight behind you finally calming down.

"It’s not my fault this place can get boring, I was just trying to add a little more fun." You give a smile, a hint of deviousness still behind it.

"This is not your playground, this is a serious business." He groans, rubbing at his temples.

"Yeah and I’m bored, I wanna do something with my grandpa!" You hop in place, hoping he'd take a hint. His eye twitches a bit as he turns away from you, placing a hand to his forehead and taking a audible breath.

"I don’t know what's been placed in your mind but I've already discussed this. I am not Jester's father, and I’m certainly not your grandfather so just… stop!" It goes quiet between the two of you for a very long time, you shuffle off to the side and pull out a toy from your pack to mindlessly play with it, there was a strong question on your mind but decided it best to give the Gentleman some peace for a while to cool off first.

"Why do you act like you don’t want to be my mama's dad?" You ask suddenly, catching the Gentleman off guard from your softer tone.

"Wha… I… this is a very complicated subject I don’t think you’d quite understand." He says slowly, you let out a sigh.

"I pay more attention to some things then people think I really do, I’ve seen how you'd get this look of… I don’t know what to call it… sadness I guess, when mama would talk about wanting you to be with grandma again." You say, fiddling with the toy in your hands.

"See you don’t understand, I’m a wanted man and stepping into the public eye would cause trouble. So you see now, even if I did want to I couldn’t. Not that I care much anyways." He try’s explaining, while also trying to brush your to the side.

"Why are adults so dumb and hide their feelings so much." You’re now the one sighing in annoyance at him. "It’s like you’re scared of being your real self." You finish.

"I beg your pardon." The Gentleman looks at you, quite offended by your words. "Did you not hear what I just said? I am a powerful crime boss, with powerful connections and blood on my hands, wanted for so many different things."

"And you’re scared to be yourself." You say both nonchalantly and matter-of-factly, all while still playing around with the toy in your hands.

"I cannot believe I’m having this kind of conversation with a child. Why do you think I should care about what you say." He says, sounding irritated.

"Well, why did you bother to help me from my caretaker?" Finally, finally you make eye contact with him. "They weren’t completely wrong when they’d said I didn’t have anyone else, before I met Jester they were the only one I had. If you don’t care, why would you help me and not do your business stuff like you normally do?" A long silence falls between the two of you.

"You are something else." He starts, quietly. "I never would’ve guessed a normally spritely child could pick up on so much."

"I love having fun and exploring! But I can also notice things you adults don’t seem to, which is weird because it seems obvious to me." You mutter the last part more to yourself. He looks like he’s about to say something but you cut him off and quickly change the subject when you hear your stomach growl at you. "I’m hungry. Got any snacks?" He stares at you a second before placing a hand to his head, a more amused look on his face this time at your quick change in behaviour.

"Something else indeed." He mutters, before straightening his posture. "Very well, but you’ll have to assist me in something."

"Like what!?" Your eyes light up in excitement and curiosity.

"You said it yourself, you notice things we adults apparently cannot. I have caught wind of a mole amongst our ranks, with your observational skills and innocent charm perhaps you’ll be able to help identify them." He sounded much more relaxed, like some invisible weight just lifted away, if only just a little bit.

"Really? Cool! I know how to use Zone of Truth if you need it… wait no, Caleb's told me I can’t unless it’s like a really important thing."

"This is important, for me." He pauses a moment. "I won’t tell if you don’t." He adds, placing a finger to his lips, there's a minor hint of playfulness in his voice making you beam and nod. With that you not only got some tasty snacks but also got to spend some more time with the Gentleman, it was a win win. He certainly still held his formal face in front of everyone else because business is still business and there was the mole situation that you were helping sort out but he was able to drop some of that facade for you, though not by a lot. It was funny to you how stubborn grownup were, seeing how they’d always call you the stubborn one.

It may have taken up a day and a half but surprisingly your hunt for the mole was a lot easier then you thought, you sat in a separate room from the bar, set up a Zone of Truth spell and put on an sweet, innocent act so that those affected by the spell would quickly fall into a false sense of security around you and hopefully forget about the spell in general. You’d then ask specific questions the Gentleman had given you, paying as much attention to the person's actions and tone when they'd answer, even if they could only speak the truth that didn’t mean they could work around their words. Once you found someone suspicious they’d be brought elsewhere for further questioning, or at least that’s what you were told, as it turns out there were a few moles working together to try and bring down the Gentleman’s operations (red was looking pretty sus…… I’ll stop). You were just glad you could help, like your own little mission. Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was closer to 4 days the Nein return having completed their mission, without hesitation you run over and get swept up into a hug by Jester.

"Your back! How was it? Did you stop all the bad guys?" You bombard her with questions, she laughs and does her best to answer them as best as possible, leaving out anything you were too young to know about yet.

"What about you? How was your time here?" Jester asks you which you happily recount what you all did to her, pointing to a corner of the wall where you’d made some drawings for the Traveler making her smile. She secures her grip on you and the group starts to make their way out, but not before she looks over at the Gentleman. "Thanks for looking after them dad." She calls, he looks away and sighs.

"Yeah, It was a lot of fun. Thanks grandpa!" You also call.

"Please don’t call me that." He says, rubbing a hand down his face. You catch the slightest twitch of a smile on his face before it goes back to being neutral, you giggle at this, grownups really were weird.

[binniesthighs]

two tails | reader x minho |

One 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x lee minho 

Genre: strangers to lovers, neighbors to lovers, fluff 

Tags: neighbors au, comfort fic, catowner!minho, catowner!reader, author!reader, bestfriend!seungmin, agedup!skz, slow burn, plot-driven, gradual romance, meet cute scenarios, lil bit of angst, strained parental relationship, explicit language 

Word count: 3.9k 

Chapters 

P | ONE | TWO

homebody noun 

: one whose life centers around the home. 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Grocery stores are a cursed place. Horrible. You might have guessed that if there were to be a special layer of hell to be reserved for you (which you sure as hell wished there wasn’t) it would likely be a grocery store. 

Firstly, they are one of the messiest places that you could ever experience. Have you seen the ways that those beige-y grey floors get caked with dirt and smudges from who knows what? Have you seen the dirt and grime that hides under those produce shelves? Secondly, why is it that everyone always feels the need to get so close to eachother crammed in those isles? Why is it that you have to do that awkward shuffle when your cart and someone else’s cart gets in each other’s way and you have to do the “no you go first” and “no, you go first.” 

You prayed that you had been good enough in this life to escape some kind of grocery-store induced hellscape. 

Partly it was Bomi’s fault. Temperamental nuisance. Three days into her newest bag of cat food and she suddenly decided to go on a hunger strike. The internet  had told you that perhaps she just didn’t like the flavor. Little did the internet know that you had nearly already tried every other flavor there was, even the expensive ones. 

You stared down to your crinkled up list filled with the ramblings of an attempted grocery list and other absentminded doodles. 

DONT FORGET STUPID NEW CAT FOOD 

Under the reminder, you had drawn an angry little cat face with Bomi’s characteristic calico facial splotches. 

“Damn cat. You’re lucky that I still love you.” You uttered under your breath. 

The wheels of your cart screeched as you turned the corner into the pet isle. Of course, you were the lucky one that had to pick the cart that had only three functioning wheels and whined like your mother over the phone. You cringed to yourself, bearing through the sound and the two glances from a mother and her child throwing an obscenely large bag of dog food into their totally normal cart. 

You didn’t need to, but you mouthed a tiny “sorry” to them as you passed them. 

The tall metal racks appeared to touch those flickering fluorescent lights above them as you perused them, glancing over all of the brands which you had undoubtedly purchased one time or the other. 

Tuna, salmon, tuna and salmon, tuna and veggies, salmon and veggies... 

What would it be that Bomi would tolerate this time? Was it grains that she didn’t like? Wet food? 

Merely looking at the prices for the canned cat food sprung such a headache that you wished you hadn’t looked at them at all. But, if it was what your princess would eat... 

On the highest shelf, your gaze caught a brand that you hadn’t seen before, so you summoned your strength to stand on your tip-toes, stretching up your arm as far as you possibly could, teetering just a little... 

“Al...most--” 

“Here, I can get that, let me just--” 

“--Oh no, it’s fine, I can reach it, thank you--” 

“--It’s alright, I’ve almost got it...” 

His elegant fingers got tangled up with yours. Had your determination been any weaker, he would have snatched it up all himself, but...

He chuckled a little. “Are you sure?” 

You turned your head to affirm, “Positiv--Minho?” 

“Y/n?” 

You had finally had the little can in your grasp, only to feel it slip out of your fingers in your shock. 

The terrible sound of the aluminum can hitting Minho’s head and glasses bonked between your fumbling arms, working just too slow. 

“Ssss-OW!” 

Minho’s hand went immediately to rub at the top of his head with eyes tightly shut. 

“Oh my god!!! Are you okay?” 

Instinctually you swooped in to see if any harm had been done. 

“Ah-I’m fine, don’t--I’m fine.” 

Your neighbor patted down his head, trying to craft a smile for you under his painfully crossed brows. 

“Are you sure? I-I’m so sorry. God, I’m so stupid and clumsy, don’t you think that you have a concussion or something?” 

He laughed out a sharp chuckle, then winced at what the action did to his head. “I don’t think so.” 

“Are you sure about that?” If he could have heard, he would have noticed your heart anxiously beating at a hundred times per second. 

“It’s okay, really, I’ve had worse things thrown at my head.” 

“What the hell could be worse???” 

“You don’t want to know.” He maintained his hopeful grin. 

Even after being assaulted by cat food, he was still just as beautiful as you remembered. 

“Oh! Your glasses!! Where did those go??” 

Frantically, you spun around, shoving your cart aside with another startling screee. Quickly you found them nearest the bird seed. 

“Here. Here you go, I hope that they’re not broken.” 

“Mm-doesn’t look like it.” Minho inspected them. 

“Oh thank God.” 

He huffed out one more little scoff-sounding laugh. “At least you’ve got the cat food that you wanted now. 

“Yeah, but at what cost?” 

“I said don’t worry about me.” 

Minho fluffed his hair back into place, likely hiding another rub to his throbbing head. 

What even does one say to someone who you nearly wrecked with cat food? 

“You uhh--what are you doing here?” 

“The same as you, getting cat food.” Minho snatched a bag of food from a lower shelf. “With three mouths to feed you tend to run out pretty fast.” 

“Oh! I-uh...can imagine.” 

“Weird shopping here like I live here now...never thought that would happen. I’m still getting used to everything around here; never knew that I would end up back living with my mom...and at my age.” 

“Don’t-don’t feel bad! It’s a nice area around here! At least I think, and it’s a... nice grocery store...” 

You did not think that it was a nice grocery store, but it seemed like the right thing to say. 

Minho smiled back at you warmly, just as he had done back on your doorstep, tabby cat in his arms. You had wanted to see it again. 

“-Guess that means I’ll be seeing you around here more often too then.” He took the cat food can--his ex-assailant-- to drop into your cart. 

“I guess so...and sorry, again.”

“Really don’t worry about it!” Minho rolled up his hands into little sweater paws on the handle of his cart. “I’ll see you later then.” 

“See...you...” 

Your words trailed behind him, seeing as he had already started wheeling away. As soon as he was out of an earshot, you cursed yourself out terribly--another habit you had developed since living alone; you really were your only company. 

“God, Oh god. Now he thinks that I’m a recluse and a wreck, oh god--” 

“--Hey! Watch where you’re going!!” 

An old man with a newsboy cap griped before you nearly collided with him and his cart full of diet sodas. 

“Sorry!! I’m so sorry!” You bowed profusely in apology while removing yourself from the isle as fast as you could.

Grocery stores really were your own kind of personal hell. 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

The cold metal of the bus stop sign dissolved into your sweating forehead while you watched the springtime sunset fade out before you. It really was pretty, and it was just enough to distract you from how weighed down your backpack and numerous reusable bags felt. Had your hands been free, you would have taken a picture. 

What time is it even? 

Your watch was restricted by the number of straps around your wrists. Sometimes stepping outside of your home and onto the sidewalk was draining enough to make you feel like scurrying back inside. Big trips like this however, had you falling asleep in those uncomfy plastic chairs in (also) disgustingly messy buses. 

To your right, you heard the usual hum of the number 10 bus wheel up. 

“Wait! Wait!! Hold the bus!!” 

Hurried footsteps came patting behind you, followed with shallow running breaths. 

Hair bopping and cardigan flopping a little like wings behind him, Minho sprinted to the doors. 

“Take a seat ma’am.” The bust driver snapped you out of your embarrassment over seeing him one more time than you would have liked. 

“Ah-sorry, I will.” 

You shuffled your way near back of the bus and attempted to hide your face behind your bags decorated with none other than flowers and cartoon cats. 

“Please don’t see me, please don’t see me.” You chanted under your breath while your neighbor looked for a seat. 

“Y/n? Heh, I just keeping running into you don’t I?” 

“Minho!!!!” You piped, just a little too animatedly. “Huh! Didn’t figure I would see you here...too...” 

Minho slid into the booth across from you. “I mean, it makes sense, we’re going to the same place basically.” 

“Don’t you...have a car or something?” 

“I do, but I figured that the grocery store was close enough, although, I didn’t really factor in how all of this would weigh a ton.” 

“Hm, I never really do as well.” 

A pair of older lades glared over at the two of you, clearly displeased that you were disrupting their peaceful bus ride. Minho cowered under their piercing and aged brown eyes, then stealthily slid into the seat next to you. 

His washed out jeans brushed up against your leggings, and you felt your hairs stand on end. If there was someone out there who decided if you went to a hellscape grocery store, they must have also been able to mask the smell of your sweat. You hoped that they were listening to your pleading requests. 

“It’s a really a nice evening isn’t it?” 

Minho peered out your window at the little shops and bustling streets beside you. The sidewalks were decorated with little skinny trees here and there which had just started to bloom with the buds of leaves and flowers. There was a peaceful air about the scene that reminded everyone that the cold would soon be gone for good, and the sky swirled into pinks and purples. 

“Oh! Yes, yes it is.” 

You tried your best to ignore the fact he was leaning into you slightly. 

“So. What else do you do besides be a cat parent and a part-time chucker of canned goods?”

You wanted to crawl in a hole once you saw his adorable grin once more. “I-I have a job, a couple actually.” 

“A couple? And what are they?” 

“I teach online college courses in creative writing and English.” your glasses fell a little down your nose bridge, so you adjusted them accordingly, “I also edit for a small publishing company--but that’s more of a side thing.” 

“That’s...a lot of writing and things like that.” 

“Well, it’s what I went to school for, and, I don’t mind...although my mother--” 

“--Have you written anything yourself? Anything that I could read?” 

You felt your cheeks set ablaze with heat. “You?! Oh no no no no.” 

“What?” A mischievous grin overtook Minho’s adorable one. “Do you write provocative content?” 

“No! I do not!” Your tone turned more defensive than you had intended. 

“Well, what do you write? Even if you did write that kind of stuff, I wouldn’t mind. Provocative contents are trendy these days.” 

“I didn’t even say that I write in the first place!” 

“I just assumed seeing as you seem to do other things in this field...so, what do you write?” 

“It’s embarrassing, and I don’t owe you the knowledge!!” 

Minho reached over your fuming body to pull at the bus cord, letting out the little stop requested tune. 

“What is it that you do then?” 

“Something boring and business-y that you wouldn’t care to know about. It’s definitely not as interesting as what you do I’m sure.” 

Your neighbor gathered up his bags while the bus slowed to the stop. 

“You coming?” 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

[19:07] 

me: seung, i’m such a fool. you will not believe 

seungmo: should I even guess? what? Bomi yack during your online lecture again? 

me: no, worse. 

seungmo: i’m listening. 

i guess i don’t really have a choice though don’t I? 

you’re just gonna tell me anyway aren’t you? 

The cat in question purred in your lap, permitting you your usual one hour of cat-attention a day like she would during the evenings. After your day of embarrassment, you had hunkered down on your favorite place on the couch, swaddled in blankets with the TV playing some nature show that you had been trying to pay attention to. Somehow, the thought that Minho living just doors away made it all seem even worse; you were bound to see him again. 

You bit your lip and started tapping away at your phone screen, regaling the entire tale to your best friend--who frankly had enough of your awkward “you-isms.” However, no matter how socially insecure you were, Seungmin appeared to stick by you. In fact, it was one of your “you-isms” that had brought the two of you together. 

Four years ago at that pet shelter where you had got Bomi, Seungmin was there too looking for a dog. It was Bomi’s skittish self that leapt out of her cage and into Seungmin’s arms when his dog started barking. Bomi had nearly destroyed Seungmin’s sweater by the way that she had clawed into him. Of course, you took her crime upon yourself and insisted on buying him a new sweater. After an exchange of phone numbers, he hadn’t gotten bored of you yet. Bomi had always liked him more than you--the traitor. 

[19:18] 

me: ...and then he showed up on the bus, just as I had thought that I had escaped, and then started berating me about what I do for a living. 

seungmo: are you sure he wasn’t just asking questions, NOT berating? 

me: it felt like it. 

seungmo: and why are you telling me all of this? 

me: bc I wanted you to give me some comfort?? or reassurance?? isn’t that what friends do? 

seungmo: what do you want me to say? I’m sorry, that was really embarrassing? get over it? stuff like that happens to you all the time y/n, I don’t know why you are making such a big teal of it. 

*deal of it. 

me: wow, you’re being of such help. 

seungmo: you’re overthinking it. as always. 

me: but i’ll have to SEE HIM again. 

Seungmin’s little three writing dots disappeared, and you waited in silent anxiety for what he would say next. 

[19:24] 

seungmo: you’ve got a crush on him don’t you 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

The evening sky had darkened, and you felt the air temperature begin to drop. It wasn’t unbearable however, and you had prepared yourself well with your giant sheep-like blanket wrapped around your shoulders. The cold wire chair that you sat in was undoubtedly pressing shapes into your bare legs crossed up on it, but you never seemed to mind it. 

Bomi yowled behind the sliding glass door to your backyard, so you allowed her to exit, making her a much happier cat. The two of you enjoyed these nights together deeply--they almost felt like a brief escape from life. Bomi would sneak around the edges of the fence, sniffing and looking rather suspicious when her green eyes would glow in the light of the house. Your glasses likely looked the same reflecting the light from your computer screen. 

You took one more sip of tea, then opened up your internet. A couple clicks, and you found the notification screen on your page. 

hearts: 267 

shares: 19 

comments: 21

Your eyes scanned over the little paragraphs that some of your readers had written for you. It made your heart swell with immense joy seeing the way that they had analyzed and picked apart every little part of your prose and how they would write IN ALL CAPITIAL LETTERS about how excited they were for your next chapter. 

~

I can’t wait for the next chapter! I’m DYING to know what was in that chest!! I really hope that Bomi can trust Davers. He just seems a little shady to me >////< 

YOU’RE INSANE FOR THIS. The fact that Bomi could fight off the dragon while Blaze was confessing his feelings for her??? I could never lollll 

 P L E A S E protect little Herbie. He’s such a cutie. I wish that hedgehog companions were real, I would take one with me everywhereeeee 

N/n, your writing is so so pretty!! I felt like I was right there in the scene with them! The way that you described the enchanted fountain had me drooling ahhh you’re such an inspiration to me as a writer!!! 

Blaze fanclub?? i’m trying to see somethin’ 

~

“If Blaze were real, I’d be the president of that fanclub.” You laughed out to yourself. 

Suddenly, you found you thoughts shifting from your dreamy Blaze to someone much less fictional. 

Crushes on boys who were real was much better than one’s who weren’t. It was nice admitting it to yourself at last. 

“Ahhhh” You sighed out, doing a little happy dance in your seat, then opened up the chat box to return to the replies. 

After responding to as many as you could, you opened up a new chapter. 

Chapter 22 

Blaze wiped off his sword, stained with the steel blue blood of the dragon, still steaming with heat underfoot. His disheveled deep black trellises were coated in his own sweat but it didn’t make him look any less dashing--per usual. 

“Princess Bomi, you still haven’t answered my question.” 

Bomi sheathed her own sword, then inspected her wooden shield for any more damage. For a moment, she thought that the claw marks made it look even more beautiful and intimidating. 

“Blaze. You know that I can’t talk about romance at a time like this, have you forgotten that the kingdom as stake?”  

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Bomi perched at her usual spot in the window, eyes fluttering closed before she would take her nap that would last for nearly the whole afternoon. You would have been lazing with her, but that would have to wait another hour or so: with your newest paycheck, you had decided to deliver some new flowers to yourself for your garden. 

The little array was spread out before you: yellow and purple pansies, pink tulips, fuchsia and baby pink peonies, and dainty while lilies of the valley were arranged where you had planned to adorn your front lawn. The aroma of the flowers lingering in the air was enough to make you feel as if you had transported yourself to the very magical gardens that you would be writing about that evening. 

A pair of songbirds chittered past, carrying their whistles behind them. For a brief moment, the sun shone directly onto your arms spotted with dirt and filled your whole body with warmth. Nothing was more peaceful than this. You took to work, crackling them out of their plastic pots, and digging at the earth in holes to hold them down. After a while, you felt the dew from the grass start to soak into your work-jeans, but it was a welcome little cool feeling. Next, you popped up to hose them down with your little attachment that made the water cascade like a rain-shower. You admired for a moment how the water would create little rainbows from the spray. 

“Ahem, uh-hi there!” 

You choked out a gasp before swinging around, aiming the hose like your sword to the startling voice. 

“STAY BACK!!’ 

You pointed the stream directly at them, only in your horror to see your neighbor, trademark cardigan and all, soaking wet from your weapon. 

“GOD! That’s cold.” 

The fabric hung onto him, adhering to every part of his body which was much more toned than you had expected.

Minho looked absolutely bewildered as the water dripped off his frame with sad little pat pat pats on the concrete sidewalk. 

“Oh God. Oh God. Minho, I’m so so sorry. I-I can’t believe that I keep doing this to you--” 

You nearly felt like crying, but for fear of embarrassing yourself further, you decided to turn around quickly in search of your rags. They were garden rags, but dry nonetheless. 

“Here, here, I-I think that these should help.” 

You dabbed at his body, although it was clear that this wasn’t helping in the slightest. 

“Stop, stop,” He pushed your hands away. “I just live next door, I’ll live being a little drenched.” 

“You realize that's an oxymoron right?” Your nervous hands continued dabbing. 

“A what??” Minho kindly laughed at your frantic hands. 

“It’s a...writing thing. Sorry...” 

“I really need to be careful around you don’t I?” 

Your mouth crinkled into a flustered line. “M’sorry.” 

“Can you quit apologizing?? Here, I came over to give you these, my mom made some extra side dishes so she wanted me to bring them over to you.” 

“Oh.” He handed you the little bundle of Tupperware containers. “Thanks.” 

“She also, or--I mean--I wanted to invite you over so that you could meet my cats...and! my mom. My mom too.” 

“You want me to come over?” 

“I did mention that I wanted to a little while ago didn’t I?” 

“Oh! You did...” 

“Does next Saturday work? Around 5?” 

“I-I can do five.” You brushed your muddied hand across your sweating brow. 

Minho scoffed, “You’ve...got something...on your...” 

“Oh! Oops.” You tried your best to wipe off the dirt, but you didn’t know you had only made it worse. 

Minho squeezed out his soaked sleeve to carefully raise it to your forehead. “Here, like this.” 

This close to you, his brown eyes deeply shone with the color of coffee, chocolate, the bark of forest trees after a spring rain, and a million other things that your writer brain could compare them to. 

“There. It’s all gone.” 

For a moment, you wondered if you really had fantasized him, or if he really was real. For you, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he was some kind of figment of your imagination: they usually were. 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

[1 missed call, Mom, 09:12] 

“Y/n are you there? Why is it that you never pick up your phone? I’ve told you so many times that you should pick up when I call. What if it’s an emergency? What if someone’s died?? Nevermind, I wanted to call and tell you my friend’s daughter is getting engaged and I’ve been invited to the bridal party. I think that you should come with. It’ll be good to get you out of that house. 

Why is it that you haven’t gotten yourself married yet? You know that you aren’t getting any younger?? Either way, call me back. You’ll need to bring a gift too. Its impolite to show up without a gift. 

Ah, I almost forgot. Your brother got a promotion at work; I’m not sure if he’s told you. We’ll be having dinner to celebrate this weekend. Can I count on you to be there? 

Also, how is the job search going? Your father has some more connections for you to speak to. You need to take advantage of every one of them. You’re so close to getting something that really matters. I can feel it. Ah, I just feel like you’re wasting away there sitting at that computer with those silly classes. It’s like, barely any contribution at all. You could be making so much more money. 

Anyway, call me back once you hear this. 

love you sweetie, talk soon. 

i know that its tuesday and i said I would publish on mondays shhh just pretend I published this yesterday ooP 

[mochatrope]

Clip Studio Paint custom brush set tour/demos

The brush set is free for patrons on Patreon, and $1/PWYW on Gumroad. I made most of these to create very specific effects or marks in my own work, so quite a number of these are going to feel very niche in their use. 

I used GifCam to create the gifs in this post, but it seems to have interpreted the canvas as gray and has cursor ghosting(?), so apologies for that. 

General brush notes:

brushes were made to work with a 350dpi canvas, and all the GIFs here were recorded at "print size" (47.6% zoom on my Cintiq 13hd screen)

"Painting" brushes are for Color Layers, "Ink" brushes were made to be used with Monochrome Layers (nothing's stopping you from using these in other ways, though)

I have a light hand, and the pressure curve of an old Cintiq 13hd may not translate well to other tablets. If you find that the pressure sensitive areas of the brushes aren't working to your liking, feel free to adjust their pressure settings in the Sub Tool Detail palette. Most of the time, the ones of note will be:

For brush size:

For paint flow:

Painting

General, Round Soft, and Soft Opaque are standard painting brushes. General lays down new paint opaquely, but has a bit of blending when you layer paint on top of existing ones. I reach for this brush the most when I'm in the early stages (head doodle below was made purely with General). Soft Opaque has no blending. Round Soft has the most blending among the three. Pencil or pen is meant for rough linework for either color or monochrome layers.

Light Buildup was made for glazes. It can also build up to solid opacity depending on pressure and repeated strokes.

Smeary Abstraction and Textured Edge are abstraction brushes, though the latter can be used in normal painting for added textured strokes.

Just Blending is your garden variety blending brush, but its blend values are fixed, soft, and has minimum characteristics. Just for those rare moments when I really need spot areas to be soft. (A better textured blending brush already comes in CSP, the Wet Bleed Blender's pretty great and responds to pen pressure)

Ink

Rough Liner, Drying Up, Rough and Thin, Liner on Rough Paper, Dry Brush - Disjointed, and Dry Brush - Loaded are different flavors of inking brushes. Among these, I use Rough Liner the most, followed by Disjointed if I want to play with something more messy, then Loaded if I want something defined but a bit more interesting than Rough Liner.

Loaded has both rough and dry-brush like characteristics to its strokes. It can also be used as a general texture brush and can be blown up to a large size.

Distress, Large, Medium, and Small are all dry brush texture brushes with blunt starts/ends. The names of the last 3 may be a bit misleading, so just to clarify all three of these brushes have unique brush tips. They were just made to be used at different scales, but can be safely blown up to larger brushes if needed (to a point). 

Sponge and Messy Hatch (+ its 2 variants) are general texture brushes.

Shading Fine, Shading Thick, and Shading Tapered are meant to make hatch shading easier. The brushes follow direction, so running the brush one way will lay down the texture, then turning the brush into an eraser and running the brush the opposite way will thin down the shading.

Use these in conjunction with deformation tools and then erase + refine the results. Practical example (not a GIF):

At one point, I needed something very specific, and Spot Abstraction was born. It's for creating some background abstract elements that look a bit more organic.

Edge Carver, Speckled Carver, and Trail Carver were all made to try and "shape" strokes to look a certain way. Edge Carver's pretty useless for anything else, and mostly exists to make for interesting textures. Speckled can be used as a texture brush on its own, while Trail Carver is for shaping off ink trails. I've been using them to make certain strokes look less abrupt/unnatural.

If you got this far and you're still interested in the brush pack, it's available as a $1/PWYW purchase on Gumroad:

https://mochatrope.gumroad.com/l/QyuXI

It's also free for patrons on Patreon.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy making artwork with these.

[writingsbymo-mo]

Seven Minutes of Good Vibes

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❆ Day 7 of our 12 Days of XXXmas Collab

❆ Sumary:  It’s the annual Christmas party at the lov’s hideout. The bar is full of drunk/tipsy villains. Shenanigans ensue and now you’re stuck in the closet with Compress for seven minutes where he has a few tricks up his sleeve.

❆ WC: 2.4k

❆ Contains: alcohol, fingering, vibrating marbles

❆ TW: some drinking, objects stuffed in you

Note: Toga is 18 in this fic and Kurogiri makes sure she isn’t drinking.

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Twas a cold night this fine evening. Many people already sound asleep in their beds or off to their late night shifts. The hustle and bustle of the city dwindled by the hour. But not for a certain group. Oh no. They were far too awake on this Christmas Eve.

The League of Villains were hosting their annual Christmas Party, proposed by none other than Toga and later agreed upon by Kurogiri for some group bonding.

Multicolored lights strung along the bar counter thanks to Kurogiri plus a small tree of quaint decorations of ornaments and garland carefully placed on the front corner of the bar greeting all who enter from the side entrance. It lit up the usually dimly lit room nicely. Keeping up with such festivities, he wore a santa hat. “Everyone must wear one, even you Tomura Shigaraki,” he stated in a calm manner.

Tomura reluctantly wore it, keeping Father over his face the whole time as not to be seen and simply drank glasses of whiskey on the rocks, ignoring the festivities no matter how much Kurogiri tried getting him involved. Anyone who approached him was ignored or simply told to fuck off. He wasn’t in the greatest of moods being forced to miss a gaming tournament with the grand prize winner getting the rarest items in the entire game plus premium figures of the characters he mains. After a few attempts to speak to him, nobody dared bother him. Not even you.

The rest of the league, including yourself, all stayed in the corner opposite the bar.

Dabi stood leaning against the wall brooding as per usual even throwing in his usual snarky quips when the time was right. Twice was playing charades with Toga, Spinner, and Compress trying to figure out what exactly he was doing, throwing out guess after guess. Occasionally, Spinner glanced back at the boss with the soft pink glow forming in his cheeks.

What you were doing? Just sitting next to Mr. Compress, sipping on the cocktail in your hand all bundled up in some throw blankets. After being in the league these past few months, you soon caught glances of the man in such fine attire. Your cheeks were warm, not just from the booze. Honestly, you’d have nothing more than to finally have Compress right where you want him. You shifted your thighs just thinking about it. With the mask on so conspicuously, you never knew if he was ever looking your way or even noticed the little things you do.

As the night went on, everyone kept glancing at the doorway that led towards the second floor where the bathroom was located. Carefully placed over it was some mistletoe. Not once this evening did two people meet underneath it just yet. Everyone kept waiting, watching as someone would leave to use the bathroom, keeping track of who was coming and going. While normally, someone would kiss the person they bump into underneath the mistletoe, Toga came up with the idea that instead of kissing, the two caught under it would go into the broom closet for some seven minutes in heaven. And thus, it was agreed upon.

Tomura was plastered, passed out at the bar with Kurogiri shaking his head in disappointment at the young boss who didn’t wish to participate in the festivities. He had a strong feeling this would happen anyway.

The karaoke was brought out and now the room was filled with the song of some drunken or tipsy villains, minus Toga who Kurogiri made sure drank non-alcoholic beverages that night. Cheers and dancing ensued with everyone taking turns singing.

A sudden tightness in your bladder alerted you and you rushed to the bathroom. Being as tipsy as you were, you didn’t think to notice if anyone saw you get up not.

Feeling much better, you stepped back to the bar but then, you bumped into something or rather, someone. “Oof, s-sorry,” you uttered, slowly raising your head only to feel the heat growing rapidly in your cheeks, not from the various alcohol you’ve been drinking.

The familiar white mask with curious designs caught your attention and the lean build of his...it was him...Mr. Compress. “None to worry my dear.” Despite not seeing his face, you could feel his smile through the mask.

A sudden feeling on the back of your neck told you to look up with Compress having the same idea. You lifted your head slowly and paused. Your body felt hot, almost heavy and light at the same time. There it was, the mistletoe finally serving its purpose. 

Time stopped. You couldn’t keep your eyes off the hemi-parasitic plant hanging above your head. Of course the one moment you forgot about it would cause this to happen. On top of it all...with your crush. A part of you almost wondered if this was all said and forgotten about or if anyone even noticed.

Loud cheers from across the bar snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Oh my god! It’s happening!!!” Toga squealed, giving you a knowing look. You lowered your head in embarrassment, staring at the linoleum floor. She figured out how you felt about Compress a few weeks ago as you had a hard time keeping your eyes off him during the last fight. “Aww look at the lovebirds! Get a room,” Twice cooed then shouted. Spinner nodded and cheered in approval, taking another drink. Dabi was indifferent to the whole ordeal being too busy doodling dicks all over Tomura’s face, stifling his laughter as to what his boss’s reaction might be when he wakes up.

Your eyes continued to focus on the floor. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach, never subsiding. A gloved hand of crimson obstructed your view. “I’d be honored for you to join me my dear.” The timbre of his voice, so smooth and rich made you lose your breath. You took his hand, warm with a perfect hold in yours as a gentleman would. If you were entirely sober right now, you would’ve fainted in pure astonishing bliss. He traipsed onwards to the nearest closet that so happened to be the broom closet, leading you in first, him following and closed the door behind him.

The room was tiny to say the least. You pulled the string to the light hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the space, humming though barely audible. Outside, they started karaoke back up singing some classic music for this kind of party. Compress bumped into you the moment the door clicked. You stumbled back, hitting the wall and somehow pulling him with you. You gasped as you both fell onto the floor with a thud.

His warmth and subtle earthy, musky scent engulfed you, sending a tingling sensation between your legs. Slowly, you came back to reality. His body caged around you, on top of you. Soft but deep sighs caressed your ears, adding to the sensation below.

“Are you alright?” he asked, concern in his voice. The mask that adorned his face fell off, revealing the beautiful chestnut eyes you could never look away from.

“Y-yeah, I’m alright...so handsome...uh I-I mean, are you?” You shrunk into yourself...you said it… ‘Maybe...he didn’t hear that part?’ Oh, but you knew, you just knew he did.

A spark lit up in his eyes as his lips stretched to form a smirk, “handsome? I’ll have you be the judge of that.” His right hand brushed your cheek that you melted into. Your heart skipped a few beats. “Now what would you like to do for these seven minutes? I might have a few tricks up my sleeve I’m willing to try with you.”

By now, a minute had already passed. You just needed to say it. All this time, how much you’ve always wanted him, how he makes you feel day in and day out. Never once have you ever lusted for someone so much, wondering just what those fingers and marbles could do to you. A man with many secrets who covers his face intrigued you to no ends. All you had to do...was tell him just what you wanted...what you needed. You inhaled deeply and sighed, it was now or never. “F-fuck me with your marbles!”

Compress paused, astounded by your response. He chuckled softly and smiled with a hungry expression on his face, “I didn’t take you as the kinky type but alas it appears I am mistaken. Though,” his voice deepened, almost in a growl, “I do have a trick or two that you might be interested in. Now then, we don’t have much time.” He leaned forward, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek, whispering an I’ve always wanted you.

The warmth radiating off his body now subtle as he leaned back, unbuttoning your pants. Goosebumps raised on your skin from his touch. He pulled them down your legs along with your panties, leaving your cunny exposed to him. Juices from your arousal shone under the soft lighting before him. You turned your head, blushing. His hand touched your chin tenderly, motioning you to face him.”C-Compress?”

“Shh, it’s alright. Please don’t hide your beautiful face from me my dear. Especially with what’s to come.” You could only feel hotter with every word of his sweeping through your ears.

He leaned forward, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, pouring all his feelings into it. Your eyes shot open but fluttered shut soon after, moving your lips to match his intensity. For a moment, the world had stopped. Nothing mattered but the emotions you shared.

“Ah!” you cried, breaking the kiss. Your cunny twitched as a couple fingers slid between your folds, testing your every sound and movement. “M-more!”

“Impatient I see. Well, it can’t be helped with us having a short timeframe but, I promise to make this performance worthwhile,” he dipped his fingers lower, sliding two fingers barely past your entrance, making you whimper. “Of course, next time I’ll surely give you the show of a lifetime.”

Long slender fingers plunged deep inside your velvety walls in a rapid, steady rhythm. You moaned and cried his name, urging your hips forward as lust overtook your mind. Every touch, the way he pressed and rubbed your sweet spot sent pleasant chills through your body. It’s no wonder they say he has magic fingers.

They scissored in and out, twisting and twirling in a fierce yet delicate dance leaving you begging for more. He moved so fast, you didn’t even notice his fingers slip out for a brief second only to shove in a special something: a marble. The foreign object made you gasp in surprise. It was cool to the touch making your insides tingle. You shifted your eyes towards his face. Compress couldn’t stop his smile, hearing your melodic moans that slipped out every movement he made making you tighter by the second.

Soon another marble went in. Then another, and another until finally….he stopped.

Compress released his fingers from your tight heat, licking off your juices while humming. Despite the marbles inside you, you couldn’t help but feel empty. He must've noticed the glum expression you held. “It seems you aren’t completely satisfied my dear. No worries, I have a little surprise for you.”

His fingers snapped and everything went white. You couldn’t think or speak. Nothing but incoherent babbling and screams of pleasure echoed from the enclosed space followed by a quiet buzzing sound. Tears poured from your eyes as drool dripped out of your mouth. Your body continuously convulsed as your cunny twitched and oozed more and more fluids. It was as though you finally found nirvana for the first time. You never knew you could feel like this.

“Hhmhmm, I see those marbles are doing the trick,” he cooed with a telltale smirk.

His hands cupped your cheeks, rubbing circles into them with his thumbs. You barely heard what he said, mustering a breath to speak, “the m-m-marbles….ah- what..did you-?”

“They’re quite special. Since we wouldn’t have much time here, I wanted to give you as much pleasure as possible so,” he held a marble between his fingers and turned it on like the others, “as you can see, it’s a special vibrating marble. What do you think about it?”

You cried as another jolt made you ascend once more, “so good!!!”

Knock knock knock

“Hey lovebirds, times up,” Dabi grumbled and sauntered away from the door, “better hope you didn’t make a mess in there.”

A whine left your lips as your eyebrows scrunched together. You sat up, reaching between your legs, digging around to find the marbles but, only one managed to make its way out, rolling onto the floor between your legs. The others however, you could barely reach. “C-Compress...they’re not coming out! Hnngh...please help!” you whimpered. Your legs wouldn’t stop shaking.

Compress shoved his fingers back inside your sopping entrance, digging for the marbles still vibrating inside you. Another one managed to loosen and rolled its way out. He went deeper, trying to reach the others but nothing seemed to work. He sighed, “sorry my dear. It appears I went a bit far. You’ll have to keep them inside until they manage to slide out. After all, I will need them back for next time.” He winked at you as you felt your body heat rise once more. It stands that no matter what he does, you can’t get enough of his charm.

Without a second to spare, he helped put your clothes back on. Despite the smile he wore, you could see a small tinge of guilt in his eyes. You paused for a second then gave him a reassuring smile. He picked you up, holding you close to him, giving you a quick peck on the lips. “I’m glad I got to spend this holiday with you my love.”

He carried you out and everyone cheered at the two of you. Dabi teased you, telling you how loud you were. You couldn’t help but bury your face into Compress’s chest. “I think we’re going to turn in for the night,” Compress stated. 

He quickly went up the stairs, giving you small pecks along the way to his room. It was a happy moment for the league that you and Compress surely will never forget...especially with those pesky little marbles still stuck inside you.

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We know this year has been a rough one for a lot of us, so our little group got together to do this Lil’ collab to try and bring some fun to this time of the year, and also help the ones of us who are experiencing difficulties.

Each fanfic from our collab will have the writer’s commission info or tip jar,check their works and if you like it, feel free to help ✨✨✨✨

✨✨We all hope you have happy holidays ✨✨✨

❆tip jar/ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/momo0953

[simprisottowriter]

Hey! Would you mind doing some fluffy hcs similar to the previous ones with Giorno or Bucciarati?

  You got it, anon! Such a great choice for headcanons. Bruno & Giorno are just so lovable and elegant! I've been considering writing about Giorno today, and the timing of this request was just perfect! I'd be delighted to write fluff not only about Giorno, but for Bruno too! Hope you like them! ♡

°Fluff Headcanons°

◇ Being a Capo for many, many years has made Giorno even more busy than before, so whenever he isn't around or he's stuck all day working in his office, he leaves Gold Experience by your side. A stand full of personality and charm. Just like Giorno, Gold Experience loves showering you with gifts! Such as flowers and small cute animals. In this way, Giorno is content and happy that he is hanging out with you, even if his schedule doesn't allow him. Similar to Giorno, Gold Experience is very reserved and difficult to read. Though, you can see the excitement in the stand's eyes when you read a book together or watch a series, especially ones about nature or biology. By using his ability, he would let you see up close some of the most rarest (and harmless) fauna and flora.

◇ When he is staying home all day, he likes letting his hair down. But he is not fond of leaving his luxurious long hair this messy, while he is in someone else's presence. It’s different when he is in the privacy of his home. Outside, he wants to maintain an image. If you have seen him without his complicated hairstyle, that means the trust he has in you is unmatched! He'd definitely let you brush and braid his hair, while he is working or resting by your side. ♡

◇ He's the definition of a morning person. The moment you wake up, the sun hasn’t risen yet. But he has already prepared everything. His morning routine, his outfit, his hairstyle. He has even cleaned a bit around the house and made breakfast. All done in such a short amount of time. When you walk in, you see him finishing his paperwork on the table. As he notices you, he smiles and hands you your coffee. Even if his speech is so calm and quiet, he's so full of life and positivity at such an early hour. There's no way your day can go wrong after waking up to this! ♡

◇ And if you wake up a little bit later than usual, you might miss him, as he usually has already reached his office at that time. Though, a beautiful and vibrant bouquet rests on-top of the table, still staying fresh in its vase, hours after he left. A sweet handwritten card and some breakfast made for you rest near the vase. It's his way of showing how much he cares.

◇ Has a fragrant floral scent, that really reminds you of lavender, mixed with the delicate aroma of some of the finest perfumes. All his clothes delicately emanate this fragrance.

◇ Follows his morning routine religiously. Sometimes, you like waking up so much earlier than usual, around the time Giorno gets ready. As he stands in front of the mirror, you sit by his side, observing every gentle movement of his, sharing a few soft glances. The aroma of hair products fills the room, as with small and calculated movements he sets his hairstyle in place. He’s a bit confused, but finds it sweet how you look with such interest at every bobby pin and hair spray he uses. The moment he applies his hand cream, which has such a familiar scent, you know he has finished his morning routine. He smiles and looks your way again, treasuring the time you’ve spent with him.

◇ Master of time management. You're amazed on how he manages doing so much in a short amount of time! He fits his work, his hobbies and the time he spends with his close ones all in just one day, so effortlessly. Plus, he ends up having some free time too. It's surprising that, at the end of the day, he's not even tired!

◇ And that free time he finds, he'd much rather spend it with someone he's close to, rather than be alone. A walk in a beautiful floral garden or a hangout at a coffee shop sound nice, don't they? These would be the ideal pastimes for Giorno. For the garden hangout, Giorno would love answering your every question about the flowers and plants that surround you. He might be very knowledgeable about them, but he made sure to run through his notes beforehand. Just to impress you! And for the coffee shop one, he would definitely choose something sweet, like pudding. But he would let you order anything! Paying for anything expensive doesn't bother him. Because he values your company undoubtedly much more than money. He just wants to have a little bit more free time to spend by your side.

◇ Adores giving compliments and words of affirmation to the ones he loves. He wants the best for the ones he trusts, and will try everything to help them succeed, no matter if it is a personal or a noble goal.

◇ Keeps his workplace and office very clean! Giorno is generally a tidy person and has everything categorized. But his presence is so obvious from the decoration! A variety of plants and flowers, emerging from intricate vases, cover a great part of the room, while small animals, such as frogs, turtles and fishes, stay in their own terrariums. He owns a great amount of pets, which he cares for daily. Has done incredible amounts of research for each animal, so that he could provide perfectly to their needs.

◇ Has some of the softest and romantic pieces of blues and classical music in a variety of vinyl discs. Would love slow dancing to these with someone special, but till that moment, he just plays them whenever he’s feeling down. 

◇ Fast, cramped and calligraphic handwriting. Favors fountain pens more than normal ones. Has one of the most beautiful signatures you’ve ever seen. His scribbles and doodles are mostly stars, wiggly lines, flowers and plant-like shapes.

◇ Loves capturing each special moment with his close ones, in small delicate photos. Keeps some of them in detailed metal photo frames on his desk. Their color has been faded over time. Owns numerous photo albums filled with memories of the past, and would love to have someone by his side, to help him make even more happy memories together.

◇ Might come off as very confident and bold, but in reality, he is not very accustomed to showing or receiving affection. His past wasn't kind and the love he never received his whole life makes it impossible for him to not freeze when someone shows him even a bit of appreciation. Just holding hands or a simple hug could leave him surprised.

◇ No matter how he is feeling, his first priority is making sure you are happy. He could be returning from a heart-breaking mission, or a task that failed so terribly, but the moment he is outside the door, he'll try his best to recollect himself and put on the brightest smile for you, as he walks in.

◇ But once you're used to his presence, you'll slowly realize how he is truly feeling. No fake smile can hide Bruno’s pain. He might continue not being honest about his feelings, even after you confront him. His voice would tremble, as he tries to keep his composure, and the slight whimpering in his tone would tell a story he himself refuses to. But with a hug or a soft touch on the shoulder, he’d immediately break the act. He appreciates with all his heart how supportive and understanding you are, but he doesn’t want to worry you with his work issues.

◇ Throughout the day you spend with him at home, you can feel his soft and gentle glances. He sometimes looks at you with awe. He believes in you and supports you with such kindness and selflessness. Just his smile could diminish any negativity and solve your every problem. For just some seconds, everything once again would be okay ♡

◇ Has a familiar and delicate aroma of coffee brewing in the morning, paired with a soft scent of vanilla. Bruno feels more humane than anyone else you've met. Warmth that reminds you of home. Whenever you are near him, your mind drifts off to some of the earliest, gentlest and familiar scents of your childhood. You feel safe again.

◇ An absolute sweetheart when it comes to animals. Doesn’t own any, but his heart shatters when he sees the malnourished stray animals in his neighborhood. He makes sure to take care of them, by feeding them and giving them shelter, since no one else does. He’s not as knowledgable as Giorno, but he is incredibly good at recognizing their body language. They feel so comfortable in his presence. Bruno would always go out of his way to make sure that no one is in danger, and this also includes animals. One rainy night, he returned home rain-soaked, with a warm and soft smile on his face. Holding a kitty, that was soaked and trembling from the cold, he explained that he found it alone out in the terrible weather and couldn’t bear to leave it on its own. You wouldn’t have expected anything different from Bruno. You love his caring nature! 

◇ Equally good with dealing with others. He’s a people’s person. Very high emotional intelligence. Immediately recognizes how they truly feel, and reads them like they are an open book. No facades work on Bruno. He could notice and point out even a small change in their behavior or something that is bothering them. After spending a good amount of time with someone, he could fully understand the reasoning behind their actions, attitude or even have a vague idea of what their past was. He’s very attentive to small details that usually would go unnoticed by others. Details that reveal much, much more than the person wants to.

◇ Simply adores jazz! Smooth, calming but extremely elegant. Just like Bruno, thus making jazz his ideal music genre. His love for Miles Davis’s music is obvious. Owns a couple but good vinyls of his, an antique turntable, and all that jazz. 

◇ Keeps items he treasures in the upper zippers of his outfit, close to his heart. Or generally uses his zippers for any item he might need at the moment. You could hear a ringing sound and suddenly he'd unzip his arm, pulling out a phone. Answering it casually like nothing happened.

◇ He might not have a lot of free time, but would definitely use it to spend some quality time with the ones he cares about. A night spent cooking at home or out at a fancy restaurant with his loved one is a night well-spent for Bruno. Even if he doesn’t have a lot of money, he would definitely spend more than usual for a night out with you.

◇ Not a morning person, but neither a night owl. Could be a strong mix of both. After Giorno, he usually is one of the first to wake up. Though, he limits his personal morning routine, so that he can devote his time to clean around the house and cook for everyone. Spends much more hours, compared to Giorno, on caring for the house and for the ones he loves, since his schedule is usually more flexible. But he is the last to nod off. He wants to make sure everyone is safe and well-rested. Plus, his paperwork is almost never ending, so he usually stays up late finishing it.

◇ The best to have around when you have troubles with your insomnia. Will make sure to plan ahead and prepare some chamomile tea for you. And if that doesn’t work, he would hold you in his warm embrace or play with your hair till you doze off ♡

◇ Delicate, neat and legible handwriting. Not necessarily cursive. Medium sized letters, full of character. His signature is his full name, written with such elegance. When he is not working on important paperwork, he mostly doodles shapes, such as squares and triangles, dotted patterns and criss-cross lines.

◇ Like every other person that has high emotional intelligence, Bruno has learned to forgive and forget. Has never held a grudge, no matter how painful his past was, and turns his sadness into love for others. He wants no one to live through as much pain as he did, and goes out of his way to ensure that. Giving praise, helping others and being genuine. Main characteristics of Bruno’s behavior that show his empathy. For Bruno, lack of hatred doesn’t show naivety. It shows maturity.

[meruz]

Aforementioned long ask post please excuse me while i try to figure out tumblr's new text editor. I’ll get into the art meme questions first and then the rest at the end.

Ok first of all thank you all for sending in questions! Giving me an excuse to talk hehe. I’ll address these in number order. Here’s a link to the ask meme for reference but also I’ll restate the question for ease of reading.

1. When did you get into art?

Super cliche answer but I don’t remember a time where I WASN’T the weird art kid! I started keeping a dedicated sketchbook when I was about 12? But here’s a page from my kindergarten journal about what I want to be when I grow up.

2. What art-related sites have you ever signed up for? 

LOL this is a weird question. Not sure why so many people want to know. Anyways I definitely had a dA. more than one dA account. I used to browse oekakis when I was a kid but I think I was only signed up to some small ones that internet friends owned. What else...? Mangabullet,Tegakie, Paintberri, iscribble back when that was a thing, instagram if that COUNTs, I used to post art on livejournal and dreamwidth too. Patreon, I guess. Gumroad, inprnt, bigcartel, storenvy all for selling stuff.

In terms of resources.. I have a schoolism account that I’m sharing with friends. Used to take classes on coursera for free. I signed up to textures.com for work recently haha. I can’t remember if I ever had an account on posemaniacs. Did they have accounts...? I definitely used to visit all the time.

3. Show us your oldest piece of art you have on hand.

Alright here’s me actually logging into my old deviantart account. These are from September 2008 So I was 13 years old. I don’t have a deviantart account from before then because 13 was the required age for having an account and I didn’t want to lie about my age because I wanted people to be impressed by how young yet clearly incredible at art I was LOL.

4. What defines your artistic style?

You guys are probably more equipped to answer this than me but uh... I wanna say... Focus on colors. And... a slightly heavy hand? Like confident... not always well-considered mark making HAH...

Also I think I have a pretty healthy mix of american comics/manga influences. I feel like people who are into american comics always think my art is too manga and people who are into anime/manga always think my art is too american. And I’m taking that as a good sign.

5. Do you practice other styles/have you tried other styles in the past?

I like to think I switch it up a bunch! I mean, these are pretty different, right?

I think I’ve mentioned this before but one thing I really took away from art school is that, for an illustrator at least, art style shouldn’t be consistent. Your greatest weapon is changing the aspects of your style based on the task, the emotions and message you want to illustrate etc. So depending on the project I’m working on, the fandom I’m drawing for, whether I want something to be funny or serious or dramatic, I’ll change things about my style all the time.

One thing I don’t rly post on here is really tight polished work and that’s because I do that for my day job haha. If you’re not paying me... I’m probably not gonna color in the lines.

6. What levels of artistic education have you had?

I have a whole ass diploma LOL. Bachelor of Fine Arts in Illustration. from the Rhode Island School of Design. And I had a great college experience tbh. Besides the student loans. If any of you guys are thinking about art school feel free to e-mail or message me questions or concerns, I’ll be happy to help. Be as honest as I can be.

7. Show us at least one picture you drew or sketched recently that you did not put on a public site.

heres the wandavision kids. Uhh what else do I have...I feel like I’m rummaging for loose change here...

assorted valentines prep doodles

8. What is your favourite piece that you have done?

Well, obviously this is gonna change all the time and generally it’s gonna be my most recent piece LOL. So yeah, why the hell not. I’ll say it’s this one. I have a pretty short memory which I count as a blessing for an artist. I don’t dwell that long on older work and it keeps me moving forward.

10. What do you like most about your art?

I like that it’s something that only I would make! I had this thought fairly recently and I wrote it down in my sketchbook, it’s pretty cheesy and rambling but it felt revolutionary at the time:

So yeah. I like my art best when it’s the most me and for me. And I like it least when it feels like I’m just making something for social media or for other people’s expectations or whatever.

14. What do you like drawing the most?

Kids in baggy clothing are like my go-to LOL idk if that’s obvious. but also I like being challenged so lately I’ve really loved drawing multi-character compositions, environments, weird angles, etc.

oh i LOVE drawing the underside of shoes lol. And bandages. People that are kinda beat up.. I think it comes from getting a bunch of cuts all the time. I’m always patching myself up and I want to patch characters up too.

15. What do you like drawing the least?

mmm I try to find something to like in every drawing but lets see... I don’t like doing commissions of people’s dogs. Just because it’s normally like... a family friend and my mom volunteered me without my consent and I don’t even really know what they’re expecting me to draw and I don’t even get to meet the dog. Also I’m not that great at dog anatomy. Trying to learn though.

18. What is your purpose for drawing?

This could have a million answers! Uhhh to GIT GOOD??? But also to express myself... and also to make money... I mean it depends on what the drawing IS. I draw fanart mostly to connect to people in the fandom so if you ever see me drawing fanart please take it as like an open invitation to talk to me about the character haha. 

20. How would you rank your art? (poor, mediocre, good, etc.)

Good!!! I have a lot of self-confidence primarily born out of ignorance and a short attention span. If I don’t think too hard about how many other artists are mindblowingly unfathombly good... its easy to think I’m good too! LOL

In all seriousness though, I think the opinion a person has of their art is like a crazy balancing act, right? Like you have to think you suck enough to want to get better but also you have to think you’re good enough to not want to give up. I think we’re all walking that line, I know I am! But also I’m a glass half-full type of person so. Most of the time I feel good about it.

22. List at least one of your “artspirations.”

This is a good question because I’ve been trying and failing to put together one of those “influence map” memes for like a full month now. What’s giving me a hard time is I feel like none of these are actually really obvious “““influences”““ in my art? Like it’s hard to see a lot of them in the work I make...? But idk maybe you guys’ll see what I can’t.

And these are just a couple! God there’s so many more. I could talk about other artists for ages, from all different genres of art. Daumier, Rockwell like every illustrator out there, Dana Gibson, Alex Toth, Hiroshi Yoshida, a lot of the Brandywine School. Lots of current working artists too, Karl Kerschl, frikkin Masashi Kishimoto lol, Jake Wyatt, Richie Pope, Edouard Caplain, Matt Cook, Sachin Teng, - lots of big internet artists, Sophie Li, Freddy Carrasco, Milliofish, Angela Sung... like all my friends from art school too. I could just keep going but I’ll stop for now lol.

24. Do you have a shameful art past? (recolour sprite comics, tracing art, etc.)

I mean if that’s how we’re defining shameful?? sure LOL. It’s not sprite comics but I used to do pokemon sprite recolors all the time. And I used to trace manga panels and color them... Granted this was all when I was like under 12 yrs old so it’s not even embarrassing. Can you really call it shameful when a 7 year old wets the bed or whatever? Not really. In fact some of these are cool as fuck. Look

25. Draw a picture!

Man I’m so tired now but here.

I used to get a lot of compliments for drawing people smiling lol but I don’t think I’ve drawn a lot of smiling lately.. here’s proof I’ve still got it.

OK MEME DONE. onto the rest.

I read this ask first thing when i opened my computer in the morning and it made me really emotional.. I’m so glad my sketches could help you!!

I think a lot of artists on social media talk about the struggle of making art but imo not enough people talk about the joy! Like I know it’s corny but. I really meant what I said at the beginning of that sketchbook about re-contextualizing art around process and progress > product and perfection. I think its super important..! The strength of messy, unfinished, and energetic art! For the feeling of it, for the love it!

That's crazy!!! I hope you like 'em. The whole line of x-books is really good rn imo.

Hi! I totally have the answer for digital stuff on my faq lol. But in terms of drawing on paper.. it varies! I tend to use sketchbooking and any on-paper doodling I do as a way to loosen up/warm-up or experiment. But right now my go-to aresenal is:

from top > bottom

- kuretake no.55 doublesided brush pen

- tombow fudenosuke

- muji 0.38 ballpoint

- medium size poscas

- grey tombow double brush pens

- good ol bic mechanical pencil

not EXACTly sure which inking you referring to from my sketchbook but if I had to take a guess it'd probably be the kuretake no55. That's been my main inker, lately. Great for sketching with the thin end too.

You can print out and eat my art if you like. Just please don't mass produce or re-sell. <3

Thanks! I've come to accept that my art is always gonna be sort of gestural and painty naturally. It's getting it to tighten up enough to be legible that's hard lol...

uh yeah lol I agree actually. I think yolei is great.

I assume these asks are related? LOL

1) Yeah totally true. I love David.

2) I don’t take requests, sorry! But if you want to commission me to draw Legion i would be MORE than happy to. Just e-mail me at isellhotdogs@gmail.com.

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