#His boyfriend is a fucking boombox.

[multiversal-madn3ss]

I FINALLY FINISHED DRAWING HIS DUMB ASS.

[satoruhour]

Nanami, who bakes fresh bread at least once a week probably subconsciously kneads your ass when you cuddle, sometimes even in his sleep. You'll give each other massage often and he'll spend tad longer literally kneading your breasts and ass fghj

a/n: PAUUUUSEEEEE THIS IS SO CUTE !!!! made it a little n*sfw too

warnings: fem!reader, making out, dry humping, p -> v sex, slow morning sex, n*sfw under the cut

bread has always been part of nanami’s life. whether it’s the hindbærsnitter and direktørsnegl his grandparents made him when he was young or when he’s mellowed out into a buttery croissants and cream puffs and now, when all he’s got time for is simple cinnamon bread and sourdough. he’s not complaining — it’s not like he doesn’t have the money, he’s already making bread once a week.

not to say that it’s expensive, but it does take up a lot of time; in the time where it takes him to properly knead everything, he could’ve already made two trips to the bakery and buy his baguette sandwich.

but nanami likes organic when he can afford it, and so ever since he tries his best to make weekly bread on sundays. it’s a habit even after successfully asking you to be his partner with red cheeks, an annoying gojo holding up a boombox and a yuji shaking a banner in the background, and you’re saying yes whilst keeping in your laughter. later they both agreed it was because of them that you said yes, while nanami only asked the older to shut the fuck up.

that habit garners other habits, like how he purses his lips when he needs to get the exact measurements. he does it all the time now when he’s focusing on some sort of task, twisting his mouth here and there. the other relates to the gathering and pushing of dough, having kneaded so much these few years that it’s the only way now to work out the kinks in his body. and yours.

you realise it after date night at home, ignoring every single piece of dialogue in the movie to make out with your boyfriend. you’re sat in his lap, grinding slowly into his clothed bulge as his lips work wonders on yours. you’re sinking more and more into his embrace, leaving him breathless at your hips.

“sorry, i only ever invited you under the ruse of watching a movie,” you grinned, brushing the sweaty blonde locks from his forehead, “i was hoping this would happen.”

“i’ve got a scheming one on my hands, huh?” nanami’s smile is relaxed, letting his hands trail over your ass, but not before he asks and you’re putting them there yourself (“you don’t have to ask every time, kento.”). your ass is so plump and full, he just can’t help but pull and push at the flesh as your lips meet his again. you pull at his hair as the kiss deepens, feeling his hot breath every time you both come up for air. his hands move subconsciously, nudging you deeper into his arms via your ass, but you don’t say anything.

that next morning you’re awoken from the same thing, groggily stirring and blinking through the brightness of the sun, but something else pulls you from your state of unconsciousness — that is, nanami’s hand upon your bare chest, kneading at your breasts. you have to stifle a laugh because you can hear him rouse from sleep, too.

he continues on for a while, grinding his pelvis into yours and now you struggle to hold in moans. you feel dizzy from the bare morning wood pressed into your ass, trailing a hand to your clit to relieve some of the frustrations. you’re wet within seconds, paired with the hand on your chest and the feel of his shaft against your back—

“already in the mood?” nanami mumbles against your neck, pressing feather-like kisses there as he continues to buck his hips into your ass. without much effort, you’re lifting your legs and grabbing his half-hard cock.

“y . . yeah,” you moan softly. with your boyfriend’s help, he pushes past your cunt and in. the feeling overwhelms you as much as it does him, shown in the way his hand squeeze your tits, “f-feels good, kento . .”

where nanami likes to get ready quick in the morning, he likes to take his time when he has you around, hips moving slowly and stretching you out so early in the morning. he flips you over gently as his thrusts stay slow. too slow for your liking, because you’re already fucking yourself back onto him.

“patience, little lady,” he sighs, loving how your ass moves each time it meets his pelvis and the sheer coat of your juices gets him hypnotised. he grabs onto your ass, not sparing you one glance as his hips meets yours halfway and a drawn out moan leaves your lips.

“do you know— you do that . . by the way?” your eyes are scrunched up but you aren’t left to pleasure just yet. you turn your body just right so you could meet nanami’s eyes.

“do what?” nanami grunts out, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“that.” you nod towards his hands, soft pants leaving your mouth at the two contrasting sensations of the gentle morning and your lewd actions. they’re kneading your ass again and nanami doesn’t seem to know what you’re talking about until you voice it out plainly. “you like to knead my tits and ass quite a bit, don’t you?”

he hums, leaning forward over your body to line his chest up to your back, “yeah. yeah i guess i do.” and he laughs, grinding his cock into you and you gasp; he takes the opportunity to kiss you deeply, hands sneaking back onto your tits and he kneads more knowingly, now, smiling into the kiss.

“can’t blame me with how soft you are.”

“not you comparing me — shit . . — t-to bread,” both your laughter mingles even as his hips speed up and your eyes roll back into your head, wrapping an arm around his neck to feel all of him and he whispers possibly the cheesiest line you’ve known to date, making you both clench around him and giggle uncontrollably.

“it’s true . . i need you daily.”

[bloodibambiidoll]

𖤐 A Dreaded Summer Day 𖤐

𓉸ྀི Kinktober Day 2 Eddie Munson ⟢ Voyeurism/Breeding 𓉸ྀི

Warnings: Outside sex, unprotected sex, switch!Eddie, switch!reader, breeding kink, alternative!fem!reader, lil bit of degradation and spanking, 69ing, Jacob’s ladder piercing, no physical descriptions of reader besides her outfit, Eddie & reader being sooo in luv. The kink WAS spanking originally but subby!Eddie took the wheel and I changed it around 18+MDNI

You and Eddie hardly ever go on “conventional” dates and tonight is no exception. The warm September days were fading into autumn nights and your boyfriend figured what better time for a midnight cemetery picnic? He filled your vintage picnic basket you found at the thrift store with all your favorite treats and then stopped on the way for a pizza for the two of you to share. He spread out a thick blanket under a big willow tree and even made you a brand new mix tape and brought his boombox for mood music. The leaves were starting to change, even a few starting to fall on the grass that was getting more and more brown by the day. The breeze that whooshed through the air smelled like the promise of rain in the next few days and the full moon was shining perfectly in the cloudless sky above you. It also doesn’t hurt that you have your gorgeous boyfriend with you.

Eddie looks so good tonight. It’s one of those rare occasions where he’s traded his usual black jeans for a pair of distressed blue ones. His curly mane was a bit messier than usual due to the long, late evening nap the two of you took together so he threw it in a low bun. On top he has on an Alice and chains zip up he got at a concert the two of you went to last year and you know for a fact the only thing he has underneath it is one of those tight black tanks that drive you crazy. He of course has his chains on his pants, chunky rings, and the newest addition to his daily accessories being the chain with your first initial hanging from it right along with his guitar pick necklace. All in typical Eddie fashion. The nose ring he got a few days ago was just the cherry on top of how fucking sexy he looks sitting under the moonlight.

“Quit staring at me like that.” Eddie chuckles and raises an eyebrow at you.

“Like what?” You say it in a sing-song tone as you cross your ankles and rest your chin on your hands while you lay on your stomach across from him.

“You’re looking at me like you’re trying to make me telepathically bust a nut or something.” You bat your lashes at him as you start to kick your feet back and forth behind you in mock innocence.

“And? Is it working?” You jokingly wiggle your eyebrows and your ass his way, playing into his joke.

“If you keep it up, it just might, princess.” Eddie leans down and gives you a kiss on the head before playfully slapping your jean clad ass. A low whimper slips past your lips and it makes your boyfriend give you an inquisitive look that quickly turns into a nearly diabolical grin. “Oh?”

“Eddieee, don’t make it a thing, okay?” You groan and roll onto your back, throwing your hands up dramatically before letting them fall to your sides. “It’s not my fault you brought me on this cute ass date to one of my favorite places, you look like that, and now you’re slapping my ass. You’re the one being a slut.”

“Oh, yeah?” Without warning Eddie abruptly grips your hips to flip you back onto your back and smacks your ass with more power behind it than before. You can’t hold in the little yelp that drowns out into a moan when he spanks you again. “I think you’re the one being a slut, baby. I was trying to be all romantic and you’ve been practically eye fucking me since we were in the van…”

“I just don’t understand how you could think bringing me here in the middle of the night wasn’t going to make me horny?” You huff and roll around onto your back again so you can look up at your boyfriend who is kneeling above you, looking down at you smugly. Eddie’s eyes twinkle with lust and mischief as his hands come down to grip onto your wrists before he leans down into your face and straight up laughs. “Are you serious? This was your plan all along? You’re so annoying.”

“Hey, don’t get all bratty on me now, doll.” Eddie leans down and runs his nose along the column of your throat, inhaling the sweet vanilla cherry scent you always wore. “I wanted to treat you nice n sweet tonight. But if you want to give me an attitude I can bend you over my knee right here, right now.”

Your boyfriend is perfect, truly. The fact that he planned to bring you out here and make love to you all sweet under the full moon is one of the main reasons you love him. But right now? You feel like seeing how far you can push his buttons. You manage to wrap your legs around his hips enough to use the element of surprise and flip him on his back. You straddle him, your hands pinning him to the ground even though you know he could easily break free.

“What are you gonna do about it, Munson?” You grind down on him and let out this cute little giggle and Eddie swears he had every intention of throwing you over his knee and spanking you until your ass was raw. But god, you look so fucking beautiful straddling his lap with the moonlight illuminating down on you. Your hair is mused from having the windows down in the van and your black eyeliner smudged eyes are nearly glowing while your blackberry painted lips are quirked into this damn near bewitching smirk. You are wearing this loose fitting off shoulder long sleeve that shows off your bra straps and his favorite pair of black jeans that hug your body perfectly. The way you’re angled has your shirt riding up enough to show off your studded belt and black thong and it’s all enough to have Eddie nearly melting into the ground.

“God, anything you want, baby girl.” Eddie’s voice is sweet like honey and you can practically see the hearts in his eyes. You’re no stranger to taking control in the bedroom, it just wasn’t the direction you were expecting tonight to go. You’re not mad at it though. “Your wish is my command, truly.”

“Yeah? You gonna let me ride your fat cock? right here in the graveyard? You really are a slut tonight, huh?” Eddie whimpers and you feel his cock harden against your Jean clad pussy as you grind down on him.

“God, yes. Fucking please.” And what kind of person would you be to make him beg when he just looks so pretty underneath you? You stand so you can kick off your boots before reaching to undo your belt and then slowly start to pull off your jeans. You make a real show of it, wiggling them down your hips inch by agonizing inch, turning around to show off the way your ass looked when you pulled it free from the tight material, bending over extra as you pushed them down your legs. Eddie leans over and laces his thick ringed hand around your ankle before running his tongue along your calf while looking up at you with pleading eyes. “Please use me, baby.”

You pull your leg from his grasp in a swinging motion and plant your foot in the middle of his chest and Eddie swears he’s going to bust in his pants when you press the pad of your foot down into him, pinning him to the ground. More mentally than physically but it honestly just makes your pussy even wetter knowing that he could break free of you so easily, yet he doesn’t.

“Be a good boy and take that pretty cock out for me then.” You press on his chest again for emphasis before running your foot up his collar bones, neck, and finally along his cheek. You caress his stubble with your pretty black painted toes before pushing them down on his face, effectively pressing his cheek into the blanketed ground beneath him.

“Oh, fuuuckkk yes, fucking step on me, princess.” Eddie’s eyes roll back and he moans as he reaches for his pants and hastily undoes them along with his belt. He pushes them down his hips to his knees all while you crush his face into the blanket with your soft soled foot. You were fully ready to ride Eddie’s cock until he was dripping down your thighs but the minute it springs free you need it in your mouth. It’s so thick, the tip red and angry with precum that’s glistening from the light of the moon dripping down it and every time you see the ladder of barbells down his shaft it reminds you how worth those weeks of not having him inside you were. Because, god, do they feel so fucking good rubbing against your soft inner walls.

So you kneel down and straddle his face, reverse cowgirl and take his cock as far down your throat as you can in one go. Eddie hardly has time to process what’s happening before your hot mouth is enveloping him and your dripping thong covered pussy is inches from his face. God, he fucking loves you. He takes the hint and laces his arms around your thighs, pushes your panties to the side and shoves his face between your legs, eating your pussy like a man starved. He sucks your clit into his mouth and thrusts two fingers into your wet walls all while you practically swallow his cock whole, your tongue running along the piercings down his shaft with each bob of your head. The sensitivity of the bars on his cock cause him to twitch inside your mouth with each stroke of your pink muscle.

“Oh, yes, so fucking good, such a good fucking boy for me, Eddie. You’re gonna make me come if you keep doing that.” You pull off Eddie’s cock when he adds a third finger inside you before curling them deliciously against your sweet spot while you grind down on his face. His teeth catch your clit and pinch down on it and that’s all it takes a blistering explosion of pleasure washing over your body. Your legs clamp around his head and your hand is squeezing Eddie’s cock so tight he swears he’s going to come right along with you but seconds later you’re lifting off of him and flipping over to kiss him messily. He tastes like you, cigarettes, and sour gummy worms and you wish you could devour him and embed his essence in your very soul.

“I need to be inside you, baby, please.” Eddie whines against your mouth and it makes your clit thump all over again. You straddle him and grab his cock so you can line him up with your entrance and then you’re slamming down onto him until your hips are flush against his. You moan in unison at the feeling of him stretching you out. You can feel each and every one of his cock piercings as your tight walls practically suck him in. “God, you’re so fucking tight, so perfect. You look like a goddamn moon goddess.”

You start to bounce on his cock with reckless abandon. Your pussy is so wet it echoes off the trees and stones around you as your hips smack together with the force of your thrusts. Eddie pushes your shirt up over your head and you reach around to unhook your bra so your tits can fall free. You yank down the zipper of his hoodie and push up his tank top so you can run your nails down his tattooed chest and abs, leaving red marks in your wake.

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last much longer baby, you gotta come for me.” Eddie groans and plants his feet on the ground firmly while grabbing onto your ass in one hand and finding your clit with his other so he can pound into you deep and fast while rubbing your slick bud. It has your walls clenching around him and it only takes a few more pumps of his hips to have you gushing on his cock.

“Oh, fuck! Eddie, baby, yes, I’m coming - I’m coming!” You throw your head back as you let out these pornographic moans that are like music to Eddie’s ears and your tits are bouncing so beautifully it makes Eddie’s cock twitch deep inside you.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come.” You wrap your hands around Eddie’s neck and lean down to lick his sweaty cheek before running your lips along the shell of his ear.

“Give me your fucking cum, Eddie. I want it so deep it will be dripping out tomorrow. Put a baby in me.” And your words have his balls tightening and his load emptying inside of you while he grips onto your ass with his hips raised off the ground, pressed against yours.

“Oh god, fuck, you’re so beautiful. Gonna give you a baby, anything you want.” Eddie babbles while his dick continues to twitch inside you and he fills you with ropes and ropes of his cum. After a moment he goes limp underneath you and you let yourself roll off of him onto your side with your head on his chest.

“Did you mean that?” Your voice is barely a whisper as your fingers toy with the little initial around your boyfriend’s neck. His large hand comes up to smooth the hair on the back of your head before cupping your cheek, getting you to look at him.

“About giving you anything you want? Even a baby?” You nod up at him with big wide eyes and he can’t help but chuckle at how cute you are. Not very long ago you were stepping on his face and now you’re practically melting in his arms. “Of course, angel. You want a baby?”

“I mean - I know we haven’t talked about it really all that much but -“ Eddie cuts you off with a light shush and a gentle press of his fingertips to your lips.

“Do you want a baby?” His voice is matter of fact and his face is serious, but in a calming way. A reassuring way that feels like a warm cup of Apple cider after getting lost in a corn maze. It trickles down your spine and warms up your insides like sugary sweet liquid in only a way Eddie can.

“Yes.” You let out a breath you feel like you’ve been holding for months and his face lights up, he flips you over onto your back and hovers over you with that bright, goofy, signature Eddie smile that just makes you melt even more than you ever thought possible.

“Then, let’s have a baby, beautiful.”

Tagging some mooties who I think might be interested: @babygorewhore @cxrrodedcoffin @eddiesxangel @gri959 @dreamliners @littlexdeaths @myherometalhead @take-everything-you-can @myspacebrat

Divider is by @strangergraphics

[wh0re43van]

Jealousy- (Dom!Peter Maximoff X Reader)

Summary: You and Peter are having a nice day at the river when you run into an old ‘friend’.

(This was a request, but I lost it. I believe the request said something like: “Dom Peter Maximoff. That’s the request”)

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: smut, throat fucking, slight choking, gagging

A/N- y’all I’ve been having such bad writers block and I just started college again so please bare with me 😭🙏🏻

My body buzzes with warmth as the mid summer sun beams down on me. In the distance there’s a group of young teens giggling and splashing as they take turns jumping off the rope swing into the river, but their joys are muffled by the newest Pink Floyd cassette playing in Peters boombox.

Suddenly, I feel a cold blob of something plop onto my stomach. I gasp, quickly sitting up in confusion. My questions are answered when I see a chuckling Peter standing above me with two overfilled ice cream cones in his hands.

“Oops,” he grins as he sits down on his towel beside me, placing the cone in my hand. Peters solution to the mess on my stomach is to lean down and lick it off. I laugh, attempting to shove him away from me.

“Ew Peter,” I chuckle as he licks up the last of the ice cream.

“Tastes like tanning oil,” he smiles while licking his lips. I just shake my head, looking at my dork of a boyfriend with pure adoration.

The soft breeze blows Peters silver locks around on his head as he lap at his sweet treat. The melted desert drips from his hand onto his toned chest and blue swim trunks.

“Babe, you’re a mess,” I laugh as I try to eat mine as neatly as possible, but the frozen delicacy is no match for the summer heat.

“Hm, guess we’ll just have to clean off in the river,” he smirks as he finishes the last of his cone. With a fwip he’s in the water.

“Hey!” I holler after him with a giggle. I set the ice cream down before standing to my feet.

“Come on y/n you’re so Slow!” Peter shouts over the sound of the rushing water. I wipe my sticky hands on his towel then grab a scrunchie to pull my hair back before our swim.

“Y/n?” I hear an unfamiliar voice behind me. I turn with a puzzled look, my hands behind my head as I braid my hair back. I’m shocked by who I see.

“Oh my god! Elijah? I don’t believe it,” I say in disbelief, staring at the boy I haven’t seen since freshman year. He smiles, seemingly pleased that I take the time glance over his now muscular body.

“I look pretty good, huh?” He laughs confidently. His red swim trunks don’t leave much to the imagination as he does a spin, allowing me to see how mature he’s become. He flexes his dark umber toned arms as he holds his head up with pride. The sun shines down on his hair, each tight raven curl lays neatly beside the other as they hang down in his face.

I gulp, feeling a bit guilty for staring.

“Uh, yeah! You look great, dude,” I laugh awkwardly as I look around for Peter.

“You here by yourself? That’s awfully dang-“ Elijah begins but is quickly cut off by Peter who seems to appear out of thin air.

“Nope,” my boyfriend says with a smug grin as he flings his arm around me, much tighter than normal. If I didn’t know better, id think Peter was jealous. I’ve been dating Peter for almost six years and I’ve never seen him so much as look twice at any guy who flirts with me.

‘Let ‘em,’ he always scoffs. ‘I’m the one who gets to undress you,’ Peter knows that no other guy has a chance with me; he actually finds it quite amusing to see guys get horribly rejected by me. Peter is a very confident guy, but right now his jaw is tensed out of annoyance and he’s gripping onto me as if Elijah might tear me from his grasp at any moment.

“Peter, long time no see,” Elija smiles at an unamused Peter.

“Yeah, last time I saw you, you were trying to sabotage my relationship with Y/n,” Peter says flatly, shrugging his shoulders with his lips pulled into a sarcastic grin.

‘Awkward,’ I cringe internally as I remember the last week we spent with Elijah before he moved away.

The two boys and I were best friends since 6th grade, so when Peter decided he wanted to confess his feeling for me, he spoke about it to Elijah- the best friend who he wasn’t in love with. Elijah came to me the next day, telling me that Peter was going to ask me out as a prank, so I should say no- which made me extremely angry since I’d had a crush on Peter for years.

Long story short: Peter was not going to ask me out as a joke, he was completely serious and Elijah almost ruined his chance with me because he wanted me to himself.

“Oh come on peter, that was like four years ago,” Elijah scoffs as he crosses his arms over his chest. He’s right. That was teenage drama that I’ve long forgotten about, however this seems to still be a sore spot for Peter who is now scowling at our old friend.

“whatever man just get lost,” Peters voice drops, his tight grip on my shoulder never faltering as his eyes shoot bullets into Elijah. This is a side to peter that I rarely see, and I cant help but notice the butterflies that are starting to flutter in my stomach.

“Woah quicksilver takes an awfully long time to get over his hurt feelings,” Elijah laughs as he keeps his confident stature. Peters eyes narrow and his face becomes flushed with anger. I open my mouth in attempt so deescalate the situation, but I don’t have time. “y/n is over it,” he smirks, winking in my direction. Before I can defend myself, the wind is knocked out of me.

With a fwip, we’re in the shower cabin. The hot damp air in invades my lungs as I try to catch my breath.

“Peter!” I groan as I pull myself out of his arms. He knows I hate when he does that. “What the hell has gotten into you? I’ve never seen you so-“ my complaint is cut short as Peter smashes his lips to mine. His hand grips the back of my head, keeping me as close to him as possible. His other hand trails up my back.

“You’re mine,” Peter growls against my lips as he backs me against the wall. My stomach drops at the possessive tone coming from my boyfriend. I wrap my arms around his neck and manage to pull my lips away from him enough to catch my breath.

“Of course Peter,” I pant as he trails wet kisses up my jawline and down my neck. I sigh in content, leaning my head to give him more access. I want to pull away, but I cant bring myself to do it.

“All of you,” he says in a low tone, his dominant eyes locking with mine as he removes my bikini top in one quick flash. I gasp as his mouth instantly goes to work on my breast.

“Peter not here! What if someone comes in? Or hears us!” I resist verbally but do very little to actually push him off. Instead, I entangle my fingers into his silver hair.

“Good,” is all he mumbles against my breast as he leaves dark hickies on the soft skin. I know this is wrong. I know we shouldn’t be doing this in such a public place, but I’ve never seen this look in Peters eyes before. It’s not often that he takes charge, and the way that he has me pinned against the wall leaves my knees weak in anticipation.

Peters mouth switches to my other breast as he uses his knees to spread my legs. His skilled fingers pull my bikini bottoms to the side and he immediately dips into my heat, moaning at how wet I already am.

“That bastard wishes he could see you like this,” Peter mumbles under his breath as he watches his finger slide in and out of me. I let out a small whimper, biting my lip to stifle the sound as much as possible.

With his other hand, he grabs my face squeezing my cheeks so hard that my lips pucker, before he leans down almost touching his nose to mine.

“I want to hear every sound that comes out of this pretty little mouth,” he growls lowly as he runs his thumb over my bottom lip. “Do you understand?” He pants as he stares in my eyes with an animalistic glint, his fingers still pumping into me.

“Y-yes,” I gulp, letting out a loud moan when his thumb brushes my clit.

“Atta Girl,” Peter smirks before he moves his hands to my thighs, picking me up so I can straddle him with my back against the wall.

After I wrap my legs around his waist, he begins to grind against my bare core. The friction sends a surge of pleasure through my body.

“What Are You waiting for?” I ask breathlessly as Peters eyes scan my body.

“Tell me what you want,” he demands lowly as his hand gently grips my throat. My heart flutters at my boyfriends unusual- and extremely hot- dominant demeaner

“I-I want you to fuck me,” I stutter as I stare down his arm into his dark eyes. The corner of his lips turn up into a smirk before he drops his swimming shorts.

Peter removes his hand from my throat to bring his fingers up to his mouth, wetting them before grazing over my heat. I tense at the contact, letting out a small whimper. My heart pounds in anticipation as he lines himself up with my entrance.

“I want him to hear,” peter growls before he buries himself inside of me in one swift thrust. I cry out at the sudden feeling of him filling me up. Peter moves hips slowly, allowing me to adjust. Soon enough, his hips are rocking against me in a steady motion as his fingers dig into the soft skin on my hips.

“fuck peter,” I whimper out as he grazes my gspot with every stroke. Everything about this situation- the risk of getting caught, peter completely dominating me, the way hes hitting right where I need him- has me more aroused than I’ve ever been.

“Louder,” Peter grunts, staring at me with stern eyes as he brings a thumb to my clit.

“Fuck Peter!” I let out a pathetic shriek as he begins to vibrate his thumb against my sensitive bud. I throw my head back, squeezing my eyes, allowing myself to get lost in the immense pleasure flooding through my body.

“Much better,” peter chuckles as he speeds up his hips. Peter looks down at me, biting his bottom lip so hard that I fear he may draw blood. Small grunts and low groans mange to slip out as he pounds into me.

“Im so close baby please don’t stop,” I whine as my fingers grip his hair so tight that my knuckles turn white.

“Say my fucking name and cum for me,” he growls into my ear before biting on my neck, sucking hickies onto the sensitive skin. I cant think well enough to form a response as I clench around him, feeling pure euphoria flood my body.

“Fuck! Yes! Peter oh my god!” I moan loudly, I don’t even know what I’m saying. At this point, Peter has literally fucked me senseless. I’m putty in his hands for him to use in any way he’d like. I lay against the wall, Peter now solely holding me up as I attempt to collect myself. I open my eyes as he slowly pulls out of me, chuckling as he sets me down onto my shaky legs.

“Peter… I-“ I just stare at my boyfriend as my release starts to drip down my thigh. Peter smirks as he pumps his still rock hard cock, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“Get down and open up baby,” he says gently with a kiss to my forehead as he pushes on my shoulder. I obey, meeting his gaze as I get to my knees. I know that I’m drunk off lust because any other time I would not have my bare ass so close to the floor of a public showering cabin but with the way Peter’s looking at me, the thought of resisting doesn’t even cross my mind.

With my chest still heaving a bit, I take his length into my hand, stroking it slowly before kitten licking the tip. Peter throws his head back with a grunt as I slide him into my mouth, my tongue tracing up the bottom of him. I wrap my arms around his thighs as I begin to move my head back and forth.  Peter smirks, gently pushing some loose strands of hair out of my face.

“That’s it baby. You’re doing so good,” he hums as he begins to move his hips in rhythm to my face. Peter looks angelic as the sheen of sweat across his forehead glistens in the single beam of sun cutting through dimness of the cement room. His toned chest heaves as his dark eyes watch his cock violate my mouth, slipping deeper into my throat with each thrust. Tears begin to form in eyes as he slams into my throat, continuously slipping past my gag reflex

“I’m the only one who gets to use you like this,” Peter growls as his hands grip onto the back of my head. I do my best to nod and mumble a ‘mhm’ as drool begins to escape the corners of my mouth, dripping down my chest as he fucks my throat. My core still aches for him. I’ve had my release already, but the way that he’s speaking to me and using me is something far out of the ordinary for him- I cant get enough. I manage to pull away to gasp for breath as I begin to get light headed.

“Please,” I pant out hoarsely, tears and spit streaming down my face as I desperately kiss all over peters length between breaths. “Cum on my face baby please. Im yours. Please peter,” I beg breathlessly as I massage his balls. Peter lets out a whimper, seemingly more than excited to hear my pleads. His hand grabs onto his length, stroking himself closer to his climax. I sit back on my heels, opening my mouth, holding my tits- now covered in my own saliva from his ruthless face fucking- up, wanting nothing more than for him to cover me in his cum.

“God you’re so fucking sexy,” Peter groans as his hand moves in a blur along his length. He throws his head back and lets out a stream of profanities and groans as he shoots his hot seed allover my face and tits. “Jesus Christ,”’ Peter groans when he looks down to see the mess he’s made of me. I giggle, leaning forward, licking up his cock one last time to make sure I’ve gotten every drop. Peter watches me in awe as he attempts to catch his breath, grabbing my shoulders and gently pulling me to my feet.

“Do you feel better now?” I tease as I scoop some off his cum off my breast, bringing the salty liquid to my mouth. Peter groans at the sight.

“Much better,” he laughs as he reaches for his swim trunks. “You wouldn’t mind walking past Elijah like that would you?” he laughs as he grabs a paper towel by the sink.

“What? Half naked and covered in your cum?” I raise an eyebrow at him as he picks up my bikini top.

“Well, maybe put this on first,” he smirks, handing me the thin material. I laugh as he wipes me off so I can get dressed. The mood is back to its usual easy-going vibe and my calm and collected Peter has returned- but I can assure you that we will be revisiting this side of him quite often

-

-

Tags: @pretzel-bunnie @slvt4jamesmarch

[sometimesanalice]

It’s a prompt party! 🪩🍾🪅

“ oh god you’re really gonna do the whole rocks against the window at midnight boombox thing aren’t you? ” from soft ships with any B-named Dagger of your choice

Morgan! I had every intention of delivering you a little Bob morsel, but this prompt was just too fitting for the Hey, Sailor babes! I hope you enjoy! 💖

In the two months since Bradley’s been home from his latest deployment, he’s gone from a one night stand to a boyfriend.

He’d been a goner from the moment he’d seen you in that sparkly dress with that shiny bridesmaid tiara on your head that night during Fleet Week. And while he wouldn’t change a thing about how the two of you gotten together- especially now with the way you’re draped across his chest, your body lush and soft against his- he did have some remorse about not getting to win you over the way a girl like you deserved to be.

"Baby?" Bradley runs his fingers along your the side of your thigh.

You tilt your head up to look at him. "Hmm?"

"Are you happy? With us and how things have been going?"

"I mean, I’m riding a pretty stellar endorphin high right now, Lieutenant,” you tease, propping yourself up on his chest wearing a mischievous smile. Such troublemaker. He lightly pinches the fleshy part of your hip, making you laugh and squirm closer. “Sorry, sorry, Lieutenant Commander.”

"That’s more like it," he says smugly. 

"Not beating those rank kink allegations there, Bradshaw.” You dip down and drop a quick peck on his lips. “But yes, I’m very happy. Why? You are too, right?” you ask him tentatively, casually.

The last thing he wanted was you second guessing anything about the way he feels about you.

He lifts a hand to your face and gently pulls your lower lip free where you had it pinned between your teeth with his thumb. "Of course I am," he assures you, "It’s just, we fucked on that first night, and I feel like I never got the chance to properly…woo you.”

“Woo?” you repeat, giving him an impressed look. “If I remember correctly, I’m pretty sure you wooed me quite thoroughly with your-”

He groans and covers your mouth with his hand, he can feel the curve of your smile under his palm before he slides it around the back of your neck. “No, I mean it. You wined and dined me-”

“-you mean I tequila shot and blew you-”

Rooster huffs a laugh, shaking his head amused. “That too, which I’ll concede was clearly a very effective method. After all, who am I to say no to a gorgeous girl who wants to take me home with her?” He wraps his arm around your waist and rolls over taking you with him and pressing you into the mattress. “But I never got to pull out my best moves.”

“Oh?” you say teasingly, tilting your hips into his, sliding your foot along his calf. 

“You know what I mean, I want to do this right. With flowers and chocolates and sunsets and tambourines.”

You’re the kind of girl who is worth the effort. And even though he already has you- and you have him more than wrapped around your finger- he still doesn’t want to skip over a single step with you.

He wants to charm you. To sweep you off your feet. To make you giddy and flustered.

“Wait, Rooster, you’re being serious?” Your eyes search his face for hint of a joke that’s not there. “Oh god, you’re really gonna do the whole rocks against the window at midnight boombox thing aren’t you?”

He grins, but doesn’t reply. Already starting to craft a game plan in his mind. And he knows the two of you are going to enjoy every moment of it. 

Bradley leans in to kiss you. “Get ready to be wooed, baby.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “Show me what you got, Lieutenant.”

it's a prompt party 🪩

[adore-laur]

GET MINE, GET YOURS

— your ex-boyfriend is a mechanic, and you still jump his bones on occasion ❤️‍🔥

——

2004

Heavy raindrops cascade off the roof of the mechanic shop, its metal shingles mottled with splotches of orange rust. The sight forms tight knots in your stomach as dreary storm clouds loom over the town. You stall outside for another minute, soaked pebbles crunching under the soles of your shoes as you pace near your car. 

After exhaling a quelling breath and rolling your shoulders back, you slowly walk toward the half-closed garage. Harry is running the shop all by himself this afternoon, working gruesome nine-to-fives just about every day of the week. You don't know how he does it, so you try to visit and keep him company once in a while.

Today, however, is different. The brakes on your car have been squeaking incessantly, and you know jack squat about anything car-related, so you had no choice but to ask your ex-boyfriend for help. 

Yes, your ex-boyfriend.

You would honestly rather listen to him drone on about all the intricate parts of an automobile than some wise guy who makes you feel stupid when you confusedly nod along and attempt to ask clarifying questions. Harry is much nicer about it. He simplifies terms for you while your mind drifts away to things much more interesting than the anatomy of axels and tires. For example, Harry's pink lips or the beautiful veins protruding from the backs of his hands.

You've gone to him with car problems before, but you mostly visit to hang out with him. It's never awkward since the breakup was mutual, and you are still on good terms. Plus, you find contentment in the routine of bringing him fast food and talking his ear off while he does the strenuous work. 

And so what if you still fuck him on the down-low?

There's nothing wrong with having no strings attached, especially since he gives you heavenly sexual experiences each and every time. It's not like it's a weekly thing, either. It's just that whenever you cross paths with him, it always ends up with his body hovering over yours and his cross necklace dangling above your bare chest. 

Unfortunately, you're not in the mood for that right now. The stress caused by your shitty car and having to probably pay a hefty amount of cash just to be able to safely drive anywhere has quickly turned your day sour. 

As you duck your head to enter the garage, the smell of rubber and oil instantly permeates your senses. The plug-in air freshener on the wall is doing the absolute bare minimum. Soft bass creeps into your eardrums, and a groovy R&B track plays from Harry's boombox sitting beside his reliable red toolbox. You grin and roll your eyes when you recognize the eminent growl of Christina Aguilera coming through the speakers. You're greeted with a song you'd never expect him to listen to whenever you visit. 

Turning your head to the left, you spot Harry working under a beat-up vintage Cadillac. He's lying down on a roller with his knees bent, metal clinking from whatever he's fixing. The black skinny jeans he's wearing are faded, and he's not wearing any shoes for some risky reason; only white socks cover his feet. 

"Hi, baby." Harry's voice rumbles, jolting you. You've told him to stop calling you that, but it falls on deaf ears every time. 

"How'd you know it was me?" you ask, running your fingertips across a stray wrench. 

He laughs huskily. "I can see your dirty ass sneakers from under here."

Before you can defend your mud-stained shoes, his hands grip the bottom edge of the car as he rolls himself out from underneath, revealing his face decorated with smears of grease and his long hair tied into a bun. It's been two weeks since you saw him last, give or take, and you swear he gets more physically buff each time. His biceps are practically bulging as he wipes beading sweat from his forehead, the sheened muscles filling out his grubby uniform deliciously.

You break away from your lustful trance and nod your head toward his boombox. "Stripped on cassette, huh? You keep on surprising me." 

"Is there a problem?" He slings a soiled rag over his shoulder.

"No, not at all," you reply lightheartedly. "It just isn't really a manly record to fix cars to." 

He teasingly sticks his tongue out and saunters over to you, bending down a bit before wrapping one arm around your waist and lifting you in a firm embrace. His mouth breathes warm air against your neck, and you can smell the spearmint gum he's been chewing.

"Came to visit me?" he murmurs as he gently sets you down, keeping a firm grip on your hip and hooking his middle finger through your belt loop. 

You pout and tell him, "My car is broken." 

He mimics your expression. "Yeah? What happened?" 

"I was driving home from the grocery store, and the brakes started squeaking out of nowhere." 

Harry stops smacking his gum and furrows his eyebrows. "And you drove all the way here without calling me?"

You grimace. "Please don't be mad." 

"You're not supposed to keep driving when your brakes are acting up," he says seriously. "You know better." 

"I didn't want to make you leave work," you reply, fidgeting with your hands. 

He softly tuts while flinging the rag somewhere behind him. "I would've come and gotten you if you had asked." 

You just shrug helplessly and look around the garage, admiring Harry's workspace, which completely encapsulates his personality, even though he shares the space with a coworker most days. Various cassettes are stacked haphazardly on a shelf, ranging from girl groups to classic rock to spa music for meditation purposes. He has an opened bag of organic potato chips on his workbench, the brand he always buys from the gas station just down the road. There's also a shallow pottery bowl in the corner where he puts his rings so they don't touch oil. 

He's a moody motherfucker, but you know all of his soft spots. 

"I'm guessing I'll be spending the entirety of my last paycheck on the repair," you mutter while wandering around, picking up random tools. 

Harry leans back against the car he's working on and crosses his arms. "It'll probably cost around two hundred dollars to replace the brake pad," he says. 

"What the hell?" you say incredulously. "You need to talk to your boss about lowering the prices around here." 

"I am the boss."

"Oh, that's right."

He laughs through his nose. "Negotiate with me about it, then. Convince me to lower the price." 

You stop in your tracks and stare at him, unimpressed with the upper hand he tries to have over you. "Nope. I'm not doing that." 

"Why not?" he asks. "C'mon, I'm bored out of my mind." 

You groan and stride over to stand in front of him. He's so hard to resist. "Fine. Will you please give me a discount?" 

Harry drags out a monotonous hum before plainly saying, "No." 

Standing on your tiptoes, you touch your nose to his and whisper, "Pretty please?" 

He narrows his eyes, his eyelashes fluttering against yours. "You're getting warmer." 

"I'll help you fix my car," you plead, willing to do anything to save a little money. "I'm really good at following instructions." 

"You are, sweetheart, but absolutely not." 

You frown and bury your face in his neck. He's sweaty, yet there's a hint of some pine-scented cologne coming through that drives you insane. "If I let you fuck me," you suggest boldly, leaving a slow kiss near his pulse point, "will you give me a discount?" 

Harry moves his head to look at you straight on, smiling smugly and using his teeth to stretch his gum across the tip of his tongue. "That's more like it." 

"But don't you have a car to fix right now?" you ask, feigning innocence to get under his skin. 

"Baby," he murmurs, "you can't come here and expect me to actually get work done. You're too distracting." 

You pinch his thigh through his jeans. "Stop calling me that." 

"No," he says softly. "You're still my baby." 

"Not anymore." 

"Then no discount for you." 

You scoff and step away from him. "Stop being a jerk, Harry." 

"Letting me fuck you just for a discount, hmm? Is that it?" He raises his eyebrows.

"You know I'd let you fuck me anyway," you admit under your breath. 

The muscles in his jaw twitch. "God, you give me whiplash." 

You get up in his face and say, "Yeah, well, you give me a headache."

His hand quickly reaches out to push the back of your head toward him, messily smearing his lips against yours. "I hate when you're like this," he mumbles into your mouth. "My baby's so stubborn when she doesn't get her way, isn't she?" 

You bite his bottom lip and tug on it before releasing it. "Don't want to be your baby." 

His hand gravitates toward the curve of your ass, squeezing just once. "Then tell me what you want."

"I want to be your brat."

Harry's head tilts as he visibly swallows. "Get on the couch," he orders lowly. "Face down, ass up." 

You grin, pleased to the max, and stroll over to the black leather couch in the back while Harry shuts the garage door for privacy. The screech of the lock makes you wince, and the sound of the pelting rain becomes muffled. The continuous drops on the roof match the speed of your racing heart. 

Placing your forearms on the cold, cracked leather, you bend your knees to get into position and tilt your head so your cheek rests on the cushion. Harry swiftly removes his hairband, his curls messily falling past his shoulders. Next, he unbuttons his shirt, revealing his swallow tattoos and chest hair, both slick with sweat. His cross pendant rests perfectly against his skin as he comes up beside you and leisurely trails his fingers down your spine until they reach the waistband of your low-rise bell bottoms. 

Goosebumps erupt across your arms when his other hand goes to unbutton his skinny jeans. You can see his bulge strain against the tight material, and it makes you squirm impatiently. 

"Sit still," Harry says, pulling down his jeans. His black boxers and thigh tattoo are now directly in front of you. 

You pitifully moan when he crouches and grabs your wrists to place them behind your back. "Not fair," you grumble. 

"Oh, really? It's not fair that I'm about to fuck you." 

"You know what I mean." 

Harry tugs down your pants and underwear in one go, the material bunching at the back of your knees. He then takes his boxers off, placing one knee on the cushion and lining himself up as he grips the top of the couch to stay balanced. 

"Still on birth control?" he asks, planting a quick kiss on your shoulder blade. The cold metal of his necklace against your skin sends an avalanche of chills down the length of your spine. 

You nod, and Harry immediately thrusts into you. You gasp as the burning sensation spreads like wildfire all the way to your thighs, your hands clenching into tight fists as he continuously rocks deep strokes in and out. You whimper with each one, and Harry's hand holds your hair back in a makeshift ponytail to watch every pleasurable change of expression on your face. 

"You good?" He pants while slowing down his thrusts, keeping them long and purposeful. 

"I want to touch you."

His hips pound into your backside. "Yeah? Where do you want to touch me?" 

"Anywhere, just please let me." 

"I didn't know brats begged like whores," he says, tugging your hair. 

You wiggle your fingers behind your back, trying to touch his stomach, but it's to no avail. Harry stops thrusting, his hair hanging over his face as he looks down at you. "Want it that bad?" he says in awe.

You muster up fake tears and nod pathetically to get your way. "Please, daddy." 

It always works like a charm. Harry grunts and instantly pulls out, hastily sitting on the couch with his legs spread and grabbing your waist to make you straddle him. 

You kick off your pants and underwear the rest of the way, along with your shoes, then sink down on his cock, slowly grinding on him with your hands in his hair. You want to touch him everywhere, so you rub your palms down his chest and then hold both of his hands as you arch your back and tilt your head up toward the ceiling rafters. The new position tightens your orgasm more quickly, and the way Harry is desperately moaning with his hands clutching your thighs causes heat to prickle all over your body. 

"Such a pretty brat for me, right?" Harry praises you, kissing along your jaw and down your neck. "Getting your way like you always do." 

"Mm-hmm," you hum, every grind making your stomach rub against his, all sweat and smooth skin. "Only for you." 

He nips love bites along your collarbone. "It fuckin' better be. I don't want you doing this with anyone else." 

"And what if I do?" you ask, the slickness of your arousal sticking to the inside of your thighs. 

Harry opens his mouth with a scoffed moan when you circle your hips. "Th-think I'd die from jealousy." 

The fact that you got him to stutter makes you grind faster until his jaw is clenched and he's clawing scratches on your back. "What's there to be jealous about?" 

"That they get to stuff this tight pussy, and I don't." His eyes roll back as he starts to stimulate your clit with his thumb.

Not only is he a moody motherfucker, but he's a filthy one too. 

"You're doing it right now, though," you say, and Harry nods briskly. "Consider yourself lucky." 

"But I want to be the only one." 

"I know." You suddenly choke out a moan when your orgasm approaches. "I'm gonna come, Harry. Oh, God..."

"Me too," he says, his chest heaving. "Give me a good one, baby." 

You hold onto his shoulders and tense your thighs while you release, Harry stilling as well as his hips jerk to meet yours. You feel him fill you up, and after he runs himself dry, you fall against his body from exhaustion, whining into his neck as the pleasure consumes you. His arms wrap around your waist, bringing you in for a lazy hug while his cock slowly softens inside you. 

The rain pours outside, and the ambiance calms you down while your body relaxes. It reminds you of a time when things were easier, a time without complicated feelings or unresolved issues. 

Harry abruptly begins giggling, his chest raising with each breathy laugh. You join in, but you don't necessarily understand what's so funny. You lift your head to see deep dimples carved into his cheeks and the devastatingly gorgeous crinkles near his eyes. 

Once his laughter dies down, he says, "We just orgasmed at the same time to "Beautiful" by Xtina." 

"No way," you reply, breaking into more giggles. 

Harry starts cackling as the dramatic piano ballad plays from the boombox, possibly the worst song to listen to while having sex. It's so ridiculous that tears form in your eyes and your sides start hurting from laughing so hard. 

"We also just fucked with our socks on," Harry adds, resting his covered feet on the couch and wiggling his toes.

"Sexy." 

"Super sexy. And quite comfortable." 

You smile and glance at his lips, feeling an intense urge to kiss them, but you know you shouldn't. As soft as they look, it would only make things more complicated. Well, besides the fact that you still have sex with him. You're okay with the equal exchange of satisfaction, even though the emotional boundaries seem to blur more and more each time. 

"You can kiss me," Harry whispers. 

You swallow and shake your head, playing with the ends of his curls. "That's not what we do anymore. I get mine, and you get yours, remember? That's it." 

"You let me kiss you earlier," he points out. 

"That was a different kind of kiss." 

He just makes a disappointed face and lifts your hips so he can pull out. He then stands still, holding you with one arm, and you wrap your legs around his waist as he walks over to the boombox. 

"What should we listen to next?" he asks in your ear, delicately pressing a button to remove the black and white cassette. 

You tilt your head sideways and read the names on the stack of cassettes. "Hmm... how about Time and Form: Celestial Meditation? Sounds like the perfect soundtrack for aftercare." 

Harry snorts. "Shut up." 

You laugh and dig your heels into his lower back, wanting to be even closer to his bare skin. The full-fledged urge to kiss him returns again, this time with a bizarre wave of sadness. 

You can't. He's your ex. 

It would cross the line that was never really there in the first place, but it's a faint one, and it still matters. To you, to him, and to the stakes of what you are to each other. Yet you spend days and nights lying in bed, wondering if he'll call you on the old wall phone at the shop and ask you to come over just because. Or when he tells you he missed you when you do show up, hugging you tight and thanking you for lunch. Or when he's glum and sulky to everyone else but you, his face immediately lights up when you step into the room. 

It all means something, but you'll never allow it to become more than that. Just fleeting moments make up for the emptiness you felt when you stopped being romantically involved with him. It quells the ache, but only in real-time. Afterward, you go home to the apartment you live in by yourself, wishing he could follow you there and stay with you like he used to. 

You didn't cry when you broke up with him because you knew there would still be some sort of relationship present, even though it wouldn't involve dating. That's when you both agreed to keep having sex without the strings attached; however, the buried feelings you have always seem to burst into uncontrollable flames when he touches you. You'll never admit it, though, because a purely physical relationship with him is better than not having one at all. 

It'd be a shame to lose the fire where the smoke is. 

——

[silassinclair]

Michael's Girl PT. 3 \\ PolyLostBoys + Michael x Reader

Summary: You're put to the test by David to see if you are truly worthy of being a vampire. And you witness a horror you could never imagine. CW: Blood, Gore, Vampires being Vampires

Previous Part <- 🖤 -> Next Part

Tonight was a night of celebration. Music blasted from Paul's boombox, Dwayne was doing skate tricks around the fountain, and Marko had returned with some food.

"Chinese again? Seriously? You better not be do what I think you're gonna do David." Michael said and looked over at the leader with an annoyed look.

David only shrugged. "What Michael? Worried your little girlfriend really isn't up for it?"

Michael glared at the blonde. Meanwhile you looked back and forth at the two in confusion. What exactly did David do to Michael? Your boyfriend didn't go into specifics with his whole vampire transformation process but you assumed it wasn't fun.

"She'll take whatever you throw at her, trust me. She's tougher than she looks. Brave too." Michael smiled pridefully and kissed your head.

David looks you in the eyes as he ushers for Marko to come forward with the food. "I can tell Michael. After all she did walk into a vampires den knowing full well the dangers of it all. She'll fit into our pack perfectly if she can pass my tests."

Marko handed everyone a white box carton of rice and noodles. While Michael ate his noodles with a fork you used chopsticks like David.

"So Y/n, how do those worms taste huh?"

The girl looked down at her open box of noodles, or rather, wiggling earth worms. She felt like she wanted to gag, she just ate one! But it didn't taste like worms, it still tasted like noodles. This had to be some kind of trick, most likely why Michael looked bothered when Marko brought back Chinese food.

You look up at David with a smirk of your own. "They taste divine David."

Vampires were still a mystery to you. But you assumed that some vampires had special abilities. Meaning that this was most likely an illusion created by David to scare you. However it didn't work, you saw right through it.

Taking another bite of the "worms" Paul and Dwayne started laughing.

"Damn! Tough chick dude. She didn't even gag. Unlike our buddy Mikey here, remember the first time David fucked with your head and made you think you were eating maggots? You coughed that shit up so quick!" Paul said while pointing his fork at Michael. Michael only rolled his eyes.

"Shut up. I didn't know alright?"

David smiles as he continues to eat his food. “You got guts girlie. You passed my first test. It’ll only get more difficult from here on…”

.

.

.

This week has been absolute INSANITY for me. First David makes me hang off the bottom of a bridge while a train comes by and I FALL but luckily he catches me, and second… Well second is about to happen soon I think.

I’m holding onto Michael while he follows along with the rest of the boys on their bikes. No one told me where we were going but only that this was one of the final tests. And I was nervous. Eventually we reach a clearing in the woods ways outside of the boardwalk. A giant bonfire is lit and surf nazi punks are dancing around the giant flames as a boombox plays music.

The boys and Michael get off their bikes and climb up a tree to scout out the surf nazis.

Less fluidly and easily as them I also climb up the tree. Dwayne sees me struggle and takes my hand to help pull me up the rest of the way.

“Thanks..” I mutter. He only nods.

I feel Michael's hands grab my hips and he helps move me so I sit next to him on a large branch. The other boys stand menacingly, their eyes glow in as they look at the flames of the bonfire the surf nazis dance around.

"What are we doing here?" I ask. Michael gives me a sympathetic look and I know that something bad is about to happen.

"This is your second to final test." David says with his signature sly smirk. "Let's see if you can handle what you're about to witness."

"After all-" Paul cuts in, "This is gonna be your everyday life. So don't get queasy on us okay dolly?"

I nod nervously. The tension grows tight around me. The five boy's auras have changed, I can feel it. Something is different. I look up worriedly at Michael only to gasp slightly when I see his vampiric face again. I look around at the others, all of their features sharp, eyes yellow, and teeth pointed.

They were gonna eat these people.

Right in front of me.

"Let's go boys!" David hollers and in the blink of an eye all five of them swoop down and pounce on their victims. Blood flies, flesh rips, heads roll. The scene was absolutely vile. The boys ate like animals, they didn't hesitate to rip limbs and let the blood fly. Michael however ate more neatly, for my sake most likely. Frozen I was, perched up on the branch where I sat.

My mind felt blank. Watching people of my own species get torn apart by pure predators. Human kind was the top of the food chain, but tonight proved to me otherwise.

When every nazi was dead all the boys but Michael cheered. Blood covered their clothes and gore and bones scattered about. My heart was racing and I knew they could hear it. It thumped like a battle drum, and I was ready to surrender that battle and run away. My legs had a mind of their own and screamed at me to run. Run away from the danger.

But my mind knew better. If I ran now then I would fail. And if I fail then I fail Michael and our relationship. I can't back down now, not after all I went through.

I hop down from the tree and approach Michael. My legs shake for every step I take closer to where the massacre occurred. I feel the crunch of bone snap under my shoe and I flinch.

"Y/n are you okay?" Michael asks worriedly. His face was morphed back to his human one, but blood was still smeared across his lips and the hands that held me.

My mind felt like it was floating away, but Michael caught it and brought it back to me with a kiss to my cheek. Snapping out of it I shakily reply, "I-I'm fine... After all this is what I'm gonna see for the rest of eternity right? So I better get used to it." I laugh light heartily.

"The sound of your heartbeat says otherwise." David says. He stands behind me with his three brothers beside him. Their hair is disheveled and even more blood coats their clothing and skin.

Michael gently holds me to him, his arms around me protectively hugging me to his waist. "She passed the test David, she didn't scream or run off. And it's only natural for her to be afraid, so give it a damn break."

"Oooo" Marko giggles, "Mikey's defending his girl. We've never seen you so ticked off before."

Paul and Dwayne laugh too but are silenced by David. "He's right. She passed, but let's see if she'll change her mind after seeing what she saw tonight."

.

.

.

You couldn't sleep. Even with Michael holding you protectively under the covers you still couldn't sleep. How could you? Every time you closed your eyes you heard the screams of men and saw their parts ooze and fly. Flashes of the boys and their vampiric faces, their teeth sinking into the flesh of human beings.

"Baby..." Michael said tiredly. His rough hands rubbed up and down your bare arm. "Your heartbeat is loud... What's wrong?" Michael says as he rubs the sleep form his eyes.

"What do you mean 'what is it?'" You say with a firm frown. "I saw people die tonight Michael. I know I shouldn't be fazed by it but I am! I'm scared!"

Your boyfriend leans up and tries to look at your face, but you're turned away.

"Please look at me baby. Don't turn your back to me now. Especially not now."

You turn around to face him and he softens. You've been crying. Red swollen eyes and puffy cheeks.

"Don't tell yourself that you have to not feel fazed. Because it's your human instinct telling you something is wrong, and that's okay. Let yourself be scared, let yourself cry, I'll be here for you the whole way through okay?"

Letting out a shaken breath you let yourself crumble against Michael's bear chest. Broken hiccups and sobs escape your lips and Michael combs his fingers through your hair.

"Shhh shhh shhh, it's okay baby. You're gonna be okay. I know you're scared, I understand because I've been there too. But it won't be so bad, I won't leave your side okay?"

You nod against Michael's chest, not wanting to be even a millimeter apart from him.

"I know I can do this Michael... But I don't have it in me to take someone's life."

Michael thinks for a moment. Until he calms your nerves by gently petting your head. "I think I have a temporary solution." Michael says.

"Like what?"

"Well, what if for the first weeks that you're a vampire, I'll make the kills for you? All you have to do is eat what I kill. You can do that right?"

"Uhm." You think for a moment. Eating people was okay to you if you were a vampire, that part didn’t gross you out like you expected it would. Just the killing factor frightened you.

“That’ll work.” You respond with a hesitant smile. “But will David be okay with that?”

Michael rolls his eyes. “Screw David. If my girl wants to take it slow and easy for her first weeks of being a vampire then she can. David can go crawl in his cave and pout all he wants for all I care.” His hands caress your face, fingertips gliding along all his favorite features.

You place a kiss to his fingers when they glide across your lips. “Thank you Michael. What would I do without you?”

He only smiles and brings your face forward for a warm kiss.

You woke up not to the sun, but instead sunset. Michael also rose and stretched with a yawn.

“Hey baby, sunrise and shine.” He says with a corny grin.

Instead of getting up like your boyfriend you hide under his bedsheets. “I’m never gonna get used to your vampire schedule.”

He laughs lightly and kisses your hair that peeks from the top of your sheets. “That’s what I thought at first, but soon enough you’ll adjust just fine. Now come on baby, we gotta go to the cave and meet the guys to see if you’re ready to drink from the bottle.”

You assumed the bottle he was talking about was the bottle of blood he was tricked into drinking.

"So it really is blood huh?" You say and poke your head out through the bundle of blankets you took sanctuary under.

Giving you a sad smile Michael embraces you through the bundle of blankets you're under, making you get warm fast.

"Mhm. Yeah it's true sweetheart. But it isn't so bad. Maybe you can take a hit off of Paul's blunt to make it not as bad? That's what I did at least." Michael grins cockily as he rocks you back and forth.

"Michaeeelll" You whine, "I'm still nervous."

In one sudden motion he rips the blankets off of you making you scream and curl in on yourself to keep whatever warmth you still have inside. Suddenly your boyfriend huffs and picks you up with his strength.

"Michael stop it! Put me down you big stud!" Though you're smacking him to put you down your laughter counters your physical attacks on him.

"No can do baby, gotta shake the nerves outta you."

Michael then holds you like a bride and rocks you back and forth like a baby, making you blush embarrassingly bright.

"Okay okay stop rocking me! I'm not a baby you buffoon!" You start to flail around more in his arms making him grunt and plop you down onto the bed.

Michael gives you his million dollar smile and quietly asks, "You feeling better now?"

Sitting on your knees you sit up and press a soft kiss to Michael's chin. "Yeah, you're little therapy worked surprisingly. I'm surprised I didn't get motion sick!"

Michael rolls his eyes and grabs your hands to help you off the bed in one swift swoop.

"Well what are we waiting for? Let's get you turned babe."

(sorry this was short yall. Kinda rushed and I wanted to get David's silly shenanigans out of the way. Not proof read btw.)

[rocksibblingsau]

(Funk Branch scenario that's way too fucking long but it was way too fun to write so I couldn't stop. Prince D is a little demon on this one, but I think he deserves to be the annoying baby brother once in a while :p, hope you enjoy it even though it's basically the size of an entire minific lol)

Prince D: Yo, B! Ur boyfriend~ is at the window again!!!

16 yr. Branch: For the last time, D, he is NOT my boyfriend! Urgh, just go eat your dinner, it's gonna get cold and I ain't reheating it.

Prince D, sticking out his toungue and leaving: Bleh, whatever!

Branch, opening his bedroom window and looking down: Hey, LJ!

17 yr. old Lownote Jones, leaning seductively (as much as a 17 yrs old can) against a wall holding a giant boombox playing Trollryn Hill: Heeeeey, babygirl~

Lownote Jones: So... You, me, our special remix, the RIGHT amount of snacks, the Onyxgroove's meteor shower. What do you say, prince of funk?

Branch: Dude, I caaan't! I told you I was gonna babysit my bro tonight.

Lownote Jones: He's 12, he's grown! He can be on his own!

Branch: Oh, please! The last time I played this argument, D snuck out of the city and got lost on the funking Rock florest of all places.

Lownote Jones, putting the boombox down: Oh... Yeah, your folks probably didn't take that too well...

Branch: Not one bit! Forbid him from being on his own until he's 14 or older, sucks for him, but can't blame them tho.

Lownote Jones: But duuude, it's THE Onyxgroove's meteor shower, we can't miss that! Come on, baby!

Branch: I'm sorry, but ain't happening, loverboy.

Lownote Jones: Ain't you guys the royals? Can't your folks, you know... just get a any babysitter in the city?

Branch: LJ, name ONE troll who either ain't at the Royal Conference or going to the meteor shower. Literally nobody's available, I checked.

Lownote Jones: The twins said they was watching from their place...

Branch: Oh, so you WANT them to turn my brother into their labrat?! I already told you what happened the last time I trusted them with D. Not happening.

Lownote Jones, doing his best attempt at puppy eyes: But then, what do we do...?

Branch, giggling: You coooould always go with Groovetavius....

Lownote Jones, glaring up at him: NEVER say that to me again.

Prince D, standing in the hallway eating a plate of swaghetti: Can't you two just watch it from the TV? They're gonna stream it, you know that right?

Branch, turning around: Oh...

Lownote Jones, shuffling his feet: That's... a little embarressing, actually.

Branch: So, I guess, change of plans...?

Lownote Jones: If your bro don't mind!

Prince D, walking up to the window and shouting down at LJ: If you guys don't make out on the couch, I got nooo complains!

Lownote Jones, smilling awkwardly: ... Can we renegotiate?

Prince D, looking down at LJ and back up at Branch: Repeat that again about him not being your boyfriend...

Branch, blushing and throwing a pillow at Darnell: SHUT UP, GET OUT OF MY ROOM! AND I TOLD YOU NOT EAT STANDING!!!

Prince D: *Running away laughing like madman*

Branch, mumbling: How did JD survive four of this...-

Lownote Jones: Sooo, that's an yes on us watching on your TV?

Branch: Oh! Yeah, pretty much... And besides, if he complains too much, I can always threaten to tell ma about the time he used her bonnet to wipe out her bathroom sink after he spilled her glam trying to dress up his Prince doll.

Lownote Jones, laughing: Damn, baby, you're evil!

Branch, blushing harder: Just a little, hehe~

Not friends, not dating but some secret third thing

[devildomditzy]

You know how it goes.

The same old same old.

You attempt to get something done for once,

and he ruins it by attempting to insert himself as the constant center of your attention.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way, now would you?

Your attempt to study for your upcoming cursed speechcraft class was impressive, commendable even. But of course, you weren’t getting anything done, not if he had anything to say about it.

You’ve reread the same sentence at least twelve times now, trying to drown out the loud, cheesy love song blaring from outside your bedroom window. But of course, your efforts were futile.

You made eye contact with him, but how could you not! The poor boy stood out on the lawn under your bedroom window, practically on his tippy toes, holding a large, heavy boombox over his head. Sure, demonic strength was a thing, but that sure looks heavy!

Where’d he even get that?

Whatever.

No time to think about that. You were NOT going to let him distract you this time. Not after he had spent the whole day trying to convince you to ‘stop being such a damn nerd’.

But of course, your steadfast nature lined with the good intentions of not failing this course went through one ear and out the other.

You were going to ignore him? Fine.

Try to ignore Celine Dion on full blast.

You watch in annoyance as he turns the volume knob up to max, making the face of a man hellbent on distracting his human exchange student.

Now it was a game of patience, who would crack first? Him giving up this charade, or you finally caving into just what it is he wants?

Or Lucifer telling him to turn that thing off before he pops his head like a grape.

It’s anyone’s guess.

Don’t let him get to you.

Just turn to the next page.

Wait, what is he doing?

He’s set the boombox down, and he’s walking out of sight.

Maybe he’s giving up?

Of course not.

There’s a second boombox.

For Diavolo’s sake.

You pick up your D.D.D, opening your messages with him.

——————————————————————————

MC: Mammon.

Mammon: Pretty cool, huh? Found em on a sick deal too. Ya know I’d be happy to share one with ya, only if ya came down here though.

MC: I don’t want a boombox, I want to study.

MC: Where’d you get those anyway?

Mammon: Not important

MC: 🙃

Mammon: What IS important is that ya stop being’ such a rotten human and come down here to hang out with me.

MC: Mams, I already told you I’d hang out with you after I’m done studying! I can’t afford to fail this class, Lucifer will kill me! You’re welcome to come study with me as long as you’re actually studying.

Mammon: So you’re not coming down?

MC: No!

Mammon: Fine. Hope you like Beyoncé.

——————————————————————————

You groan in irritation and throw your D.D.D. onto your bed as his music somehow gets even louder.

You’re glad he forgets he can fly sometimes because if he was at your literal window you’d pop him like a grape yourself.

You put your head in your hands and look outside, just to see him lip syncing the first chorus of ‘Halo’ at you.

Its okay. Deep breath. Just block him out.

Eyes back on the page.

“The first step to recognizing when someone is attempting to use curse speechcraft on you is…”

Okay what the fuck.

What the hell is he doing.

Annnddd he’s taking his shirt off, okay.

Cool.

You make eye contact with him for a split second, and he makes that smirk you wish you could wipe off his face right now.

You rip your eyes away from your boyfriend’s impromptu strip tease as your D.D.D. buzzes from it’s spot on your bed, and you’re surprised to see the name flashing on the screen does not match the source of your frustrations.

——————————————————————————

Lucifer: MC.

MC: Yes?

Lucifer: Do you have any part in the absolute horror show that is taking place on the front lawn?

MC: Please make him stop.

Lucifer: l will return him to you in one piece.

——————————————————————————-

You look out the window just the time to see your panicked boyfriend attempting to run away with a stereo in each hand, his shirt and jacket thrown over his shoulder.

You’ll cut him down from the rafters eventually, but only after you’re sure he won’t be effecting your grades.

Annnd maybe after you’re done teasing him for a bit.

[zmb1eslut]

Masterlist

Luke Castellan singing a birthday song for Dionysus!reader.

gn!reader but the song talks in fem.

warnings: swearing.

Agreed, birthday parties were the second worst kind of parties, just after baby showers, and just as long as they're yours. But even the worst party was still a party and dam you loved those.

Maybe a bit of the attention too.

So it kinda sucked that after putting on your special person suit you got to face a normal routine where no one cared more than the occasional "happy birthday". It was just going to be normal thursday.

Except for Luke, apparently. He entered the dining pavilion at exactly 8:12 AM while you were just sitting down with your breakfast. He had a microphone, connected to a sort of boombox that he just left somewhere in the floor when Charlie came with a guitar and handed it to him.

Saturday mornin' jumped outta bed.

You instantly cringed. Luke didn't even knew how to play guitar (He learnt those chords just for you).

And put my best suit

He even looked so smug about it, looking down at his literally every day clothes.

Got in my car and raced like a jet.

Fuck, he made eye contact with you. You instantly turned around to the side, finding your father on the process, who seemed rather annoyed with the live show. But slowly you couldn't help but look again at his dorky act.

All the way to you.

No. Stop. Stay the fuck there. He was literally walking straight to you. Charlie following him now with the boombox and everyone looking, not quite making fun of him, not quite impressed about it all.

He put his hand on the Dionysus table, and then it dawned on you.

Knocked on your door with heart on my hand.

He wasn't walking towards you.

To ask you a question.

Your godly parent wished, for a moment, he had perished more than centuries ago, afar from the torturous instances that immortality day to day proved to offer.

He groaned and drowned his face on both his palms.

'Cause I know you are an old fashioned man.

There was something about a shameless idiot being able to have such a characteristically attractive smirk on him while performing the most humiliating act of his life, and taking you on his ride with no agreement of sny sort.

Oh, shit. Please don't.

He got on the fucking table.

Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life?

You could no longer fight it, you started to smile. You could no longer pretend you weren't listening to this song when you were 12, envy of the fact someone loved that way, maybe even hoping to be understood some day. You couldn't pretend you never felt as special as being completely socially annihilated by the cutest swordsman on camp.

Say yes. Say yes, 'cause I need to know.

He was actually really playing into the teenage pop-rockstar choreography and expression, as if it wasn't a terribly sung acoustic cover.

You say I'll never get your blessing 'til the day I die.

Maybe you also loved knowing his reputation was way to good for your father to actually be able to took it out on him and give him a lesson for ruining his morning.

Tough luck my friend but the answer is no!

Some people started to laugh, some people started to cheer him.

Until he stopped, and crouched to give the guitar to Charlie, who handed him the microphone.

"I couldn't learn the chorus for the life of me"

And he played the karaoke version.

Why you gotta be so rude?

Don't you know I'm human too?

Why you gotta be so rude?

I'm gonna marry her anyway.

It was funny in a way because Luke was... not even your boyfriend, or friend for that matter, just a sort of a pleasant stranger. He just greeted you sometimes, helped you a bit on your archery class. He'll sometimes tie your shoes when you didn't wanna bend down, or gave you notes when you were rehearsing for a play. Probably the closer you ever got were those times he would just purposefully mess up your hair when you were chatting with your friends and maybe that one time he... Oh.

I hate to do this, you leave no choice, can’t live without you.

And that's when he finally stopped bothering Mister D, right before looking at you and freezing you on a childish emotion.

Love me or hate me, we will be both standin’ at that altar.

It didn't felt much like a threat. Not even when he pulled you a little closer.

Or we will run away to another galaxy, you know.

Can we? fucking brown eyes taking the best of you.

You know that I am so in love with you, I'll go anywhere you go.

And you realized that's not even how the song goes, before he twirled you around.

Can I just be honest? Have a speck of your time?

Say yes. Say yes. Promise I'll be good.

'Cause really I feel you takin every bit of my mind.

And I must say, I think that it's love.

And he stopped singing, the music kept running for a couple counts more before Charlie turned it off. You were just looking at each other, him being considerably more nervous than you, though he did tried to hide it and you not quite so.

Your silence went for too long and he had to break it first.

"Happy birthday?"

And that made you laugh before you caught him on a giddy hug of excitement. He looked at Charlie from over your shoulder, he couldn't believe that shit actually worked.

[theharrowing]

Collateral 🗡️ 17 - Making someone cry is a side-effect of being in love, I'm afraid

Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.

But was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or has he always had his sights on you?

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

🗡️ Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon, Jungkook x Female Reader 🗡️ word count: 15.6k 🗡️ mafia au, strangers to lovers, graphic violence, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit 21+ 

🗡️ chapter warnings: excessive drinking to numb/forget; so much fucking tension lolol; Hwasa (yes, that is the warning); new nickname for the bingo card (doll/dollface); Jeongguk is a flirty little shit & he got his eyebrow and lip pierced; mc learns to dance; use of "whore" (not derogatory but also kind of derogatory); smoking weed; mc confessing to "going all ways" (sorry straight readers, but i don't know how to not write a queer mc); mc has some complicated feelings and is doing her best; Jeongguk sometimes says the wrong thing but he is also doing his best; a healthy amount of crying; mention of dead moms; discussion of drug use & addiction; inexplicit discussion of sex (sorry lads, the smut is in the second half. it's worth the wait!!!)

🗡️ note: this chapter spans about three weeks, and there is no clear definition of time in between some scenes because mc is just kind of...dealing with the passage of time in her own way. so if it seems kind of disjointed, that is because it is meant to. also, as you may have seen, this chapter wound up being 30k words, so i have broken it in two parts and beefed up some of the scenes. i intend to post chapter 18 very, very soon. ok i love you, enjoy!

🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin!

🗡️ posted on june 2023 | read on ao3

You love Yoongi; there is no question about it. 

Despite the hurt and confusion and pain, one thing that you are certain about, above all else, is that you love him. 

And that is why you drink. 

You drink to numb the myriad feelings. You drink to pass the time. You drink to forget. With a twinkling haze of intoxication, loud club beats, and bright lights, you drink, and drink, and drink. 

Jimin caves instantly on his insistence to not teach you how to dance, and you realize that he is not only a brilliant dancer, but that he seems to really enjoy having someone around to join him. Behind Paradise is a ballet studio that he owns and rents out to instructors. When he has free time, he goes there to practice in front of the wall of mirrors while some sultry melody plays on an old-fashioned boombox in the corner. 

Sometimes he throws on a hip-hop beat and does experimental moves with his body, contorting his limbs in square, jarring movements. Other times he drifts gracefully through the space to ballet pieces, muttering about Tchaikovski, Prokofiev, and other names of long-dead men that you struggle to pronounce. He is always magnificent—a true artist of his craft. 

It takes no time at all to become a friendly face at Paradise. Within just a few nights, the cocktail waitresses, dancers, bartenders, and regulars all seem happy to greet you. Jimin has introduced you to everyone as dove, a nickname you quickly warm up to, which is what everyone there calls you. 

Everyone, that is, except the new bar manager, Jeon Jeongguk. 

At Paradise, under the flashy red, purple, and fuchsia lights, he calls you dollface, or doll for short. And at first, you fucking hate it; the words stick like bile to your tongue, heavy and tacky. 

But the more he struts over with his black satin shirt unbuttoned just a little too low, hair slicked back, standing too close with his sticky-sweet whiskey breath and muttering shit like, "Looking gorgeous tonight, doll," you begin to warm up to it a little. 

"What happened to buttercup?" you teased the first time he tried the new nickname, and he rolled his eyes, chewing on a piece of pink bubblegum wide-mouthed like an adorable a fucking cow as he said, "That was the old me, dollface; I'm not the same person I was yesterday."

It should come as no surprise that Jeongguk is really beginning to grow on you. Now that he works the bar and you see him a lot more often, his attitude is much softer. He still teases you, and at times, it makes your fucking blood boil, but there is a softness to his gaze, especially when his smile stretches wide, that makes your tummy do a backflip whenever his presence lingers. 

All of this is extra dangerous in your current situation because the last thing you need while on sabbatical from both of the men who you continue to be in some unnamed but deeply romantic relationship with, is Jeon Jeongguk making you feel giddy. Try as you might to convince yourself that your feelings are purely a product of your loneliness, you know that is untrue; your feelings for Jeongguk had already begun to sprout, and, as time goes on, they continue to grow. 

You are also finding yourself charmed by Jeongguk's second-in-command, a wisp of a woman with a wide smile and even wider hips named Ahn Hyejin—stage name Hwasa. Hyejin is tiny, barely standing taller than Jeongguk's shoulder with her sharp stiletto heels on. But she commands a room, voice booming and deep when she needs it to be, making all the dancers do exactly as she says. 

Although you are surrounded by beauty in a place like Paradise, nobody steals your attention like Hyejin. Her beautiful diamond-shaped face is always made up with sharp black eyeliner and bright red lipstick. With wide, dark brown eyes that pierce into your soul, all it takes is one pointed smirk, and you are practically melting to her feet. She is always dressed a little revealing, showing enough skin that your eyes continuously trail back to her, just to get another glance.

You understand why men wage wars over love and lust. Hyejin is living proof of why so many sonnets and classic literature pieces are steeped in maniacal desperation over a woman some lonely man saw at a passing glance one time. 

Hyejin was once a dancer, too, but she worked her way into a management position, and all the family men who come to the bar treat her like a sister, including Jeongguk, who only reluctantly calls her Hyejin-noona because she is two years older than him and likes to insist on the nickname. 

She teases Jimin at times, too, being several months older than he is, and she uses it to her advantage when she wants him to do something for her. Jimin always grumbles, rolling his eyes while fulfilling her requests to make the stages and dress rooms better for the dancers, but he does everything out of love for her, and for his dancers, and he is grateful to have her on his management team, giving him advice on how to improve.

Hyejin is, in a word, amazing.

"I see the way you look at her," Jimin teases you tonight the moment she walks in sporting a red one-piece latex bodysuit with long sleeves and a deep v-collar, putting her thighs on glorious display. She wears matching red thigh-high boots, and her long, dark brown hair falls past her shoulders in waves.

Although you turn your head in the direction of Jimin's voice, your eyes stay on Hyejin as she struts over to the bar where Jeongguk is leaning forward on his elbows, getting his attention by draping herself over him and slamming her hip against his side. 

"Hmm?" you finally ask when seeing the two of them standing side-by-side has your cheeks feeling entirely too warm, though it still takes a few stray seconds to pull your gaze to Jimin. 

He has one perfectly manicured eyebrow raised, and he tongues the inside of his cheek, making you feel even more embarrassed. You are only human…what does he expect from you?

Tonight, Jimin wears silver shimmer on his eyes, with his brown hair styled off his forehead. His black satin button-up is undone to the center of his chest, and it is tucked into very tight, fitted black slacks, styled with black boots. 

Everyone at Paradise is honestly so breathtaking; it is no wonder the place brings in so many high-rollers willing to spend top dollar. Although you are determined to keep Jimin as a friend only—not that he has ever shown signs of wanting more from you—you still find yourself stunned by his beauty.

"Gonna start calling you fawn instead of dove," Jimin teases, and you snicker at the wordplay, unwilling or able to deny you have been fawning over Hyejin since the moment you met her. 

"I need a pet name bingo card," you tease, scrunching your nose to feign annoyance, despite finding it cute. 

You smell a familiar perfume—bright floral and lightly fruity—dance softly in the air before you feel an arm sling around your waist, and you take a fortifying breath before turning to find Hyejin's beaming red smile inches from your face. 

"Hey, dove," she greets in a deep, sultry tone that makes every little hair on your body stand up. 

"Hey, Hyejin," you respond as your cheeks become hot.

"What are you up to tonight?" she asks, giving your waist a squeeze before sliding her arm away but staying just as close. "Practicing any more of your dance moves?"

You giggle and shake your head, feeling nervous about talking to her, of all people, about dancing. Once Jimin let it slip that he was showing you floor moves, both Hyejin and Jeongguk began hounding you for a demonstration. 

"Ahhhh, probably not," you respond, sounding just as awkward as you feel. "I was planning on sitting here tonight and drinking all of Jimin's expensive whiskey for free."

Hyejin pouts and it sends your heart haywire, making you nearly cave. "I want to see your moves," she says in a sweet, baby voice that has you floundering for words—deciding that you would probably do anything to satisfy her. 

"Maybe once I feel more confident," you respond demurely, nibbling on your bottom lip. 

This seems to satisfy her, and she winks as she says, "Looking forward to it," before walking off to the dressing rooms to check on her dancers. 

"Holy shit," you mutter under your breath once she is gone, catching your breath as if you had just run a marathon. 

Jimin scoffs, teasing you as he says, "You are such a whore," and you laugh with him, rubbing your palms over your face. The effect that she has on you must be as obvious to her as it is to everyone else, and the prospect of that makes you nervous.

You have begun to dress a little nicer when you visit Paradise, starting from the first night Hyejn was introduced to you—wearing the more casual designer dresses that Jimin graciously brought from your room at the mansion, and letting him do your hair and makeup. She always gets a little too close when you have your cleavage showing, so you have been displaying it more and more lately.

"She's just so pretty," you complain as if it is an inconvenience, making Jimin laugh anymore. 

"Careful, doll," Jeongguk's voice speaks way too close to your right ear, causing you to gasp and flinch, turning in the direction of the sound. "Keep flirting with her and it might make me jealous."

You scoff and lean away from Jeongguk, who only crowds closer, teasing you with a grin. Recently, Jeongguk has gotten his eyebrow and lip pierced, both on the right side—your left—and he keeps his hair cut short with a sharp, dark undercut. Today, his hair is styled in a swoop over his forehead, and his delicate, floral musky scent is dizzying the closer he gets. 

Since working at Paradise, Jeongguk has begun to dress a little differently, and you find yourself unable to keep from sneaking glances at the slivers of skin he kept hidden behind buttons and t-shirts before. He continues to don his standard all-black attire, but he has also switched to satin, much like Jimin. His shirts are always unbuttoned to the center of his toned chest with no undershirt, and tonight he has several silver chains of various lengths and widths cascading from his neck. 

"I wouldn't dream of it," you tease as you take a step away from Jeongguk and spin on your toes, toward the bar. A sexy R&B song plays loudly, and you swish your hips to the rhythm, knowing without having to glance back that he is watching you. 

And although you tell yourself that you should not enjoy his attention so much—or anyone's attention, for that matter—you revel in the thrill it gives you. Yoongi and Namjoon have both encouraged you to pursue him, anyway…surely they wouldn't mind if you have a little innocent fun. After all, you have no idea when you may see the two of them again.

Nights at Jimin's house are lonely. His mansion is huge and empty, and you prefer not to spend much time there by yourself, which means you tend to be at Paradise from late evening to mid-morning most nights. At first, you thought your sleep schedule would adjust and you would become a night owl just like Jimin and Jeongguk, but as the days wear on, you find yourself exhausted, floating through a realm of half-wakefulness. The drinking likely does not help. 

But what other choice do you have? Despite the deep ache behind your ribs, it feels too soon to return to Namjoon. During a brief phone call shortly after returning from Paris, he mentioned Yoongi was in the countryside at a facility to help him get past the first three weeks of withdrawal. 

From time to time, you find yourself wondering how long it has been since you returned from Paris. It could have been weeks, but it could have been days; you have been disinterested in keeping track, finding the tangible passage of time too painful to confront. You figure the time will come when they are both ready to return to you and not a moment sooner; no use dwelling on it.

On the nights when all you wish to do is let go and forget, you either sit at the center stage and watch the strip shows with a drink in hand, or you head to the upper-level VIP section of the club and dance by the railings. When you are feeling outgoing, you find a group of drunk, friendly women by the back bar to become single-use friends with for the night and dance until bar close. 

Back when you first moved into the mansion, Paradise was apparently a dance club with a brothel beneath, just like Serendipity. But during the weeks leading up to your Paris trip, Jimin had been working on getting the space remodeled—hence why you had not seen him around much, for a while. There still is a dancefloor, but it is rather compact near the back bar; not too many people come to Paradise just to dance. 

The main room now consists of three stages—two smaller ones on either side of the room, and one large stage in the center, all equipped with a spinning poll. Everything is made up of dark wood, black leather, and chrome.

Beneath Paradise, there are still brothel rooms, but it is a very hush-hush affair that not too many patrons seem aware of. A patron can book any of the dancers for a private strip show and lap dance in a back room, but anything explicitly sexual is kept strictly to the lower level, and unless someone knows how to ask for it, they will get removed from the premises in a heartbeat. 

Jimin oversees all Paradise operations, but his main focus is on the activities that take place underground. Jeongguk and Hyejin oversee everything on the main floors, including the strip stages, the back bar and dancefloor, and the VIP bar upstairs, which is more or less just a mezzanine with a bar and booths that cost a pretty penny to use. 

Paradise is your oyster, and you more or less have free reign to do anything you would like.

During the nights when you do not feel like drinking, you go to the dance studio. Sometimes, Jimin goes along to let off some steam, either before he needs to run things at Paradise, or when he has a break in his duties. Other times, you go alone. 

You have been getting a hang of moving your body in ways Jimin has shown you, and in new ways that you are discovering on your own. And although you are nowhere near as flexible or fluid as he is, you are surprised by how your body can bend and move and stretch when you allow it patience and grace to learn how. You get why he, and the other dancers at Paradise, take so much pride in their craft. To the patron, it may just seem like stripping and ass-shaking for some loose notes, but to them, and to you, it truly is an art form.

On nights when you dance, the loneliness is not at all quelled, and you find yourself spacing out often and getting lost in your thoughts. But the more you move and let out all of your pent-up energy, the lighter the loneliness seems to feel. Some nights you are able to relax and feel at peace, rolling and stretching your body without a care in the world. It gives you hope that there truly may be a light at the end of this tunnel, no matter how long it takes for you to reach it.  

"Hey, pretty," a familiar sultry voice purrs, giving you goosebumps. 

It is some unknown night in the middle of the week, and you left a group of bachelorettes by the back bar to step outside and smoke a joint. It is rare that anyone is out here, and you are surprised to find Hyejin, of all people, leaning against the brick wall in this quiet, employees-only escape tucked away in a dark alley. This spot is nestled behind a tall fence, past which is a set of dumpsters and a narrow path out to the main roads.

Hyejin is beautiful as always, wearing a black long-sleeve crop top shirt and high-waisted short shorts, under which black garters stick out and are clipped to black thigh-high socks. Her hair is pulled back into a bun, slicked on the sides, and as she approaches, her mary jane heels clack against the pavement. 

"Hyejin," you mutter, swallowing thickly and abandoning the joint you had forgotten to light, cradling it in your fist. "Didn't realize you would be out here."

Tonight, she wears a nude lipstick rather than the red you have grown accustomed to, and her smile is not quite as warm. As she approaches, you are greeted by her lightly fruity, floral perfume. 

"Stepped out for a breather," she sighs, eyes falling to your hand before they meet your gaze. With a raise of her eyebrows, she adds, "Mind if I help you smoke that?"

Your brain has to reboot before you lift your hand to inspect its contents, and you remember what you came outside for, chuckling as you hold out the joint and lighter to her and say, "Of course. You can hit greens."

Every once in a while, Hyejin will smile shyly. She has a practiced shy smile that she uses on Jimin, Jeongguk, and plenty of her customers—honed to perfection to get just what she wants. But this one is soft and delicate, filling her beautifully golden-tawny-toned cheeks with a deep red blush. 

As she unfurls the soft smile that opens into a toothy grin, she reaches out both slender manicured hands and takes your offering, gently scratching her long, painted-black fingernails against your palms. The sensation sends a shiver through you, and you giggle, squeezing your hands shut before opening them again.

"That tickles," you admit when she looks curiously, laughing softly at you.

"You're easily ticklish, hmm?" she mutters with the joint cradled between her lips, then flicks on the lighter, giving her face a beautiful golden glow while igniting the tip and sucking in. 

Hyejin takes a slow inhale followed by a sharp one, then holds her breath and passes the joint to you. When she lets out an exhale, smoke plumes in front of her, and you take a nice, big hit and hold it in, just the same. 

The smoke is warm in your lungs and licks at your senses. As you breathe it out, you feel a small sense of release, letting your shoulders drop and your body relax. 

When you turn to hand the joint back to Hyejin, she is standing much closer, leaning on the sliver of brick wall between you and the closed back door. You instinctively take a step back but rotate so that you are facing her, with barely any space between you. This time, when she smiles, her eyes have the sparkle that you are used to, but there is still an unmissable hint of sadness swirling in their deep umber depths. 

"You know, you can always talk to me if you need someone," she offers unprompted as she takes a hit and hands the joint back. 

You nod and mull it over, unsure where you would even begin. You have no idea what Hyejin knows about your situation, and although you think you can trust her, there is a part of you that is unsure whether you really want to talk about it, especially right now. 

"Thank you," you say before taking a hit and holding it in. Hyejin turns her head to blow the smoke away from your face, then she reaches out one hand and gently rubs her fingertips over your wrist, snaking them into the sleeve of your black denim jacket and sending a tingling warmth into your bloodstream.

You turn your head to exhale, then hold up the joint, asking, "More?"

"I'm good right now," she responds softly, and you move your hand away from her inviting touch to pinch the lit end off onto the ground. In your pocket is a small plastic tube into which you slide the joint, placing a little plastic cap over the end so that its smell does not stick to your clothing, and then you return your arm to its spot and allow her fingers to resume exploring your wrist and hand.

"I appreciate the offer," you try, hearing the way your voice trembles as the weed settles over you and fills you with a heavy-weightless warmth, buzzing in a deep thrum that tenses and relaxes and relaxes and relaxes. Sheepishly, with a giggle, you add, "I don't…really know where to begin."

Hyejin's hand sides into yours, palm against palm, fingers wrapping and holding on tight. 

"That's okay," she responds with a disarming smile. "I just wanted to offer, just in case. I know you have Jimin and Jeongguk, too."

At this, you laugh and sink further against the brick wall, tilting your head to rest against the scratchy, unwelcoming surface. "I do have them…for better or worse."

Hyejin laughs in understanding, then she rolls her eyes and says, "Jeongguk is so possessive; I thought the two of you were dating when you first started coming around."

"Oh?" you respond, a bit surprised by this news. Admittedly, when you first began coming to Paradise, you thought there was something going on between the two of them. It took a couple nights to realize that the way Hyejin hangs off of and pouts at her manager is all an act. "We're…not…" you begin, trailing off, unsure what to say.

"He clearly has feelings for you, regardless," she adds, and you search her face and fidget in place. Hyejin seems genuine and sweet, but you are so used to women in this line of work having ulterior motives and using kindness as a tool to gain information and an upper hand. But that does not seem to be what she is doing, and you let out the breath that had gotten trapped in your lungs and nod, chuckling lightly. 

"Yeah," you admit, feeling your cheeks warm. "He…certainly does."

"Oh my god," Hyejin teases, squeezing your hand until you look at her wide, beaming smile. "You like him too, don't you?"

Try as you might to shake your head and mutter, "No," she mirrors the movement, laughing and practically shouting, "Yes, you definitely do! You are a terrible liar, dove!" 

"It's…complicated," you mutter, squeezing your eyes shut with embarrassment. 

A sweet giggle flits through the air like a flutter of butterflies, and you open your eyes to find Hyejin regarding you with the sweetest smile. 

"I won't judge you," she assures, giving your hand another squeeze. "I don't know a lot about your relationship, but Jimin has mentioned you are dating two men, which…honestly, sounds like a dream come true."

Your heart seizes a bit around the word dating, and you swallow thickly and nod, unwilling to go down that path. Nothing has ever been established, despite your confessions of love and the huge, expensive fake-engagement ring that sits in your dark, empty bedroom. Sometimes, if you allow yourself to dwell on it, both the distance and time spent away from them make you worry that things may have an end date that is sooner than you expect. 

But none of this is pertinent enough information to share at a time like this, so you smile as convincingly as you can while saying, "It has its perks."

Hyejin returns your smile and closes the already meager space between the two of you to press a kiss against your cheek. Her mouth is soft and warm, and you let your eyes flutter closed, smiling from the smell of bluebells and apple that fills your senses. As she pulls her lips back, she stays close, cradling your chin with her hand while opening her mouth to continue speaking. However, the back door flies open, cutting off what she was going to say.

The sight of Jeongguk looking around the corner makes you gasp and back up, kicking up a flurry of feelings in your chest. Despite nothing happening between you and Hyejn, this feels like too precarious of a position to be caught in suddenly. Daresay, it may appear somewhat intimate. 

Jeongguk's expression is wide and shocked, but it quickly melts to intrigue. He steps outside and approaches, slinging an arm over both your shoulder and Hyejin's. 

"Well, what have we here?" he asks with a tone that is far too gleeful for anyone's good. 

"I was just telling our dove that I am here if she needs anything, and then I gave her a kiss on the cheek," Hyejin says, turning to Jeongguk and standing on her toes to plant her lips against his jaw. 

Jeongguk looks affronted and gasps as she says, "There, now nobody is left out."

"Listen, I'm not here to break up whatever is going on between my favorite girls." Jeongguk says, gaze on you as he raises an eyebrow and adds, "I just didn't know our doll swings both ways."

Feeling indignant and a little claustrophobic, you shrug away from Jeongguk's arm and give his shoulder a shove. 

"For your information, I go…all ways…" you mutter with a grimace, trailing off because you do not owe him an explanation. Labels for sexual orientation may work for some, but they have never been your thing; you like people for people, and it is as simple as that. Defensive, you add, "But she was just giving me a friendly little kiss on the cheek, so it doesn't matter."

Jeongguk grunts unconvincingly, then leans in close to say, "But a kiss between friends can easily spiral into something more, can it not?"

With that, Jeongguk takes a step back, leaving you standing shell-shocked and ready to smack him. Jeongguk winks and says, "Hyejin-noona, when you're ready, I have some things I wanna go over with for tonight," then he walks inside. 

Hyejin holds out her elbow, asking, "Shall we?" and you lift a hand to slide against her soft skin, allowing her to lead the way. 

Once you are back inside, the bachelorette group is still at the back bar, drunker and louder than when you left them, and you wave Hyejin and Jeongguk off as you walk over and allow the women to pull you into their chaotic little group for shots. 

You wake up late in the evening with a hangover after hanging with the bachelorette group the night and morning before, taking shot after shot of overly sweet liquor that was far too strong for its own good. It feels like it has been ages since you have felt so awful, and the thought of having even a drop more of alcohol makes your stomach churn.

So, tonight, rather than go to Paradise, you decide to visit the dance studio to practice the floor moves Jimin has been teaching you. Although you are still certain you have no desire to dance at the club, practicing the moves has been cathartic. And it helps you slow down on drinking. Being a lush for a while has definitely been one way to handle your myriad tumultuous emotions, but the hangovers are too frequent, and after what you felt earlier today, you are eager to change your ways.

Dancing also makes you feel sexy. You enjoy watching the way your body can curve and flex, bending and swaying in ways you had never really attempted before. Tonight you alternate between taking moves slowly on the floor, facing away from the mirrors, before attempting to add speed and flow to them while watching your reflection. 

With the cassette mixtape that Jimin has scribbled Whore Mix onto playing through the boombox, you stretch on a dark purple yoga mat that sits in the center of the floor while a sultry voice sings and raps over a beat that begs your hips to move, with the mirrors to your left and the studio door behind you.  

The approaching click-clack of boots against the wooden floor that greets you does not strike you as odd at first; you have grown accustomed to Jimin and his affinity for boots. So you continue practicing without turning to greet him.

Anchored back on your elbows, sitting on the mat on your left hip, with both legs bent, you stretch your right leg straight and fan it out at an angle lifted in front of you. In the same fluid motion, you lift your left leg, creating a v-shape in the air. Then you curl your legs in, trying to perfect the graceful movement that Jimin is so good at, twisting until you are on your right hip.

Only when clapping echoes through the room do you realize that the boots had stopped moving and that the tell-tale frenetic energy Jimin always brings to the studio is missing. You turn with a gasp and find Jeongguk standing in the center of the room, wearing his standard all-black. His button-up is undone enough to show a dip of his chest, as always, with no shirt underneath, and it is tucked into black slacks that are so fitted, the material strains against his thighs when he shifts from one foot to the other. 

"My, my," Jeongguk teases, approaching before squatting beside you. "What have I walked in on?"

Instinctively, you lean away, feeling warmth flood your cheeks. You sit wearing a tight purple sports bra and very tight, very short black athletic shorts, making you self-conscious to be met with such a hungry stare, especially knowing that he had been watching you, just now. 

"Jeongguk," you mutter, having to clear your throat to get more sound out. "What are you doing here?"

"I was coming to see if Jimin was here. Wanted to run a few things by him."

You nod, feeling like a fish out of water with how your mouth hangs open. Jeongguk's cologne is stronger than usual and a little different tonight—musky and floral with hints of spice—and you find it incredibly intoxicating. 

"But what I found is far more enticing," Jeongguk continues with a smirk.

Silence falls between you, and you feel your hands prickle with sweat. All you can think about is that kiss in Hong Kong and the chemistry you found in his lips—how delicately he asserted control but never pushed or pulled too much, causing you to unravel in moments. You want to feel that again—want to feel him again—so much that it seems like a bad idea for you to be left alone with him, like this. Flirting in the club, with people around, is one thing, but here, alone, seems dangerous.

Jeongguk stands, and you let out a heavy breath, then swallow a lump, feeling relief wash over you at the thought of him leaving. But then he walks over to the corner, to where some black chairs are shoved together, and he grabs one. Anxiety washes over you when he begins to bring the chair over, boot heels echoing loudly against the floor as he places it beside you and has a seat. He spreads his legs and leans forward, resting his wrists against his knees, tattooed hands so close you could reach out to him. 

With his lips tugged into a sharp grin, he says, "Let me see that move again."

You must look as stunned as you feel, blinking up at him, because he chuckles and raises his pierced eyebrow, clearly amused by your lack of response. 

"Come on, dollface," Jeongguk teases, leaning even closer and dropping his voice far too low for comfort. "Don't be shy."

Even as nervous as you are under his piercing stare, you like the attention he gives you. But continuing what was started between you without Yoongi or Namjoon present feels wrong, and it stirs up guilt and shame, starting in your tummy and working its way to your throat. You want to show Jeongguk your moves and crawl to him, grind your hips over his lap until he calls you noona and begs you for more. But not here. Not like this. 

Luckily, the click-clack that actually belongs to Jimin's boots storms down the hallway and into the room, giving you an out. 

"I told you to meet me in my office," Jimin complains, approaching with his hands on his hips, one balled into a fist that holds onto a manilla envelope. "Why did you come here? To bother her?"

"I must have misread the text," Jeongguk responds, eyes still on you while they glimmer mischievously before turning his attention to Jimin. "Office…dance studio…same thing."

Jimin lunges forward and slaps the envelope against the back of Jeongguk's head, saying, "Not the same thing, and you know it!" before shoving the document into his hands. 

You watch somewhat stunned as Jeongguk's mouth falls agape, and he chuckles. Then, as he begins to open and read through the contents of the folder, you take your leave, rolling the yoga mat in your hands as you walk away. Draped over one of the black chairs in the corner is a black hoodie and sweatpants, and you pad over, set the mat onto a chair, and slink into the garments, keeping your hair tucked into the shirt and the hood pulled low over your face.

"Gonna head back to work," Jimin says in a flurry, exiting just as fast as he arrived with the folder in his hand. "Come to the club if you want. Or call me if you need anything."

With a nod, you turn on your toes and begin for the door.

"And just where are you going?" Jeongguk asks, stopping you in your tracks and pushing a sigh from your lungs.

"Home," you say before your lips flounder, and you correct yourself, heavy-blinking. "Jimin's place."

With a hum, Jeongguk stands and says, "I'll drive you," picking up his chair to bring it back to where he got it from. 

Although you have made no plans for a ride, you know that Hoseok was at the club earlier, and you had planned to call and see if he was around. Jeongguk giving you a ride would definitely be convenient, but is that something you want right now?

"You have work to do," you insist, shaking your head and feeling nervous at the thought of being in a vehicle alone with him. 

But Jeongguk sets the chair down, takes you by the back of the arm, and begins to usher you rather forcefully out the door. As your sneaker heels dig into the wooden floor, rubber squeaking with each step he makes you take, you feel petulant, and you are dragged to the dark hallway before you manage to yank yourself out of his grasp and take an uneasy step back.

"What the fuck are you doing?" you ask, feeling anger rise and fighting the urge to slap him. 

"What?" Jeongguk says through a chuckle, looming over you while he steps forward, closing the distance with each step you take backward until you hit the wall. "You're dancing like a whore now, so I figured you wanted to be treated like one, too."

Although you feel anger buzzing through you like a livewire, sending every nerve on high alert, more than anything, you feel deflated. Despite Jimin jokingly using that word to tease you, there is something about the way Jeongguk says it—something almost sardonic and mocking in his tone, met with how forcefully he dragged you out of the room. It settles like bile in your guts and makes you feel extremely uncomfortable. 

But, rather than put up a fight and challenge him, you storm away, shoving past his weak attempt to hold you back as you stomp toward the door. 

"Hey," Jeongguk calls, heavy footsteps trailing behind you. "What's the matter with you?"

Unable to hold in your rage, you spin on your toes, shoving your palms against Jeongguk's chest as you say, "What's the matter with you?"

Jeongguk hardly flinches, and when you step forward to push him again, he grips onto your wrists and holds you still, tugging you close to him but not in a way that is meant to be rough or suggestive. He almost looks worried, brows knit as he studies your face. 

"Hey, hey," he mutters, holding onto you just tight enough that you have no choice but to stop lashing out. 

Somehow it works. Maybe because you are exhausted, or maybe it is the floral, musky scent of his cologne—or a combination of things wrecking your tiny sense of sanity—but you hold still and let Jeongguk softly shush you while rubbing his thumbs over the knobby joints in your wrists.

"I don't like it when you talk about women that way," you say, feeling a swell of sadness fill your chest. You are aware that this is likely a trauma response to the way men have treated you in the past, but you need to at least attempt to establish a boundary. "I know we joke about it at the club, but the way you said it, I—" You close your eyes and shake your head. 

"When have I ever talked about women that way?" Jeongguk asks, voice sounding more defensive than apologetic. "Look, I was joking. I'm sorry."

"Just don't do it, okay?" you insist, yanking your hands away until Jeongguk relents and folding your arms over your chest. "I was a whore before, Jeongguk. Is it so terrible? Do you really need to make it sound so demeaning? Yoongi's mother was a whore, too, you know."

Jeongguk's face pales, and he appears angry for a split moment, but you do not attempt to argue. Perhaps it is out of pocket to bring up Yoongi's dead mother, but you were a part of the honey bees who came after her; you belonged to the same organization, come hell and high water. 

"You're right," he says, taking a step back and sliding his hands into his pockets. "I don't look down on sex workers, and I shouldn't talk as if I do. I'm sorry I offended you. I know that we make jokes, and I guess I got carried away. I didn't consider how even playful actions might bring up bad memories for you, and I get what that's like."

Surprised and unsure what to say, you rock on your feet a little before settling on, "Okay."

"My mother was a whore too," Jeongguk adds, stepping forward slowly. "I never held it against her. Even when it got her killed, I never thought badly about her."

There it is, once more—the taste of guilt.

"Jeongguk," you say, taking a step forward, but he holds up his hand and shakes his head. 

"I offended you. I'm the one apologizing. Let me make it up to you by driving you home?"

You nod, conceding. "Alright."

The walk to Jeongguk's black sports car is quiet in a way that feels charged and awkward, but as you settle in, you begin to relax. Silence continues to hang during most of the drive, and all the while, you think of Yoongi. As you stare out at the city lights that fade the further you get from the city, you wonder how he must be doing and whether he will return home soon. 

"Did you supply the heroin?" you ask without thinking, staring out at the dark roads past the city line. 

As silence stretches, part of you worries that Jeongguk might be offended by your question, and you keep your eyes on the shadowed hints of trees, refusing to acknowledge the expression on his face. 

Finally, Jeongguk mutters a simple, "No," and you allow yourself to regard him. 

Jeongguk's jaw is tense, and he stares ahead at the road, tonguing on the inside of his mouth while both hands tightly grip the steering wheel.

"I didn't think you did," you respond softly, watching as his pierced eyebrow raises. "I don't know why I felt compelled to ask."

Jeongguk's gaze flicks to you, then back on the road. "Because you overheard my conversation with Namjoon that morning outside your bedroom. And because I was the one in charge of the drug operations."

"Yeah," you respond with a shrug. "But I don't think you would be that careless."

With a hum from Jeongguk, silence settles once more. You relax back in your seat, watching the road curve and become a little hilly before evening out. By now, you are familiar with this stretch, anticipating the sight of the property to come into view very soon. 

Whenever you pass the mansion these days, it is dark and quiet. If not for the outdoor security lights, it would be nothing more than a looming shadow—a silhouetted remnant of lives at a standstill. Namjoon must sleep in his own home, and from time to time, you consider walking down the dirt and gravel path to his property to see him.

But everything feels off balance in a way that you struggle to reconcile, and you feel like you need a little more time. You fish your phone from your hoodie pocket and check his Instagram feed, sad to see he has not posted anything to his story. 

Namjoon likes to post his workout routines, what he is listening to, and shots from trips to museums. Lately, though, he barely shares anything, making the lack of his presence feel heavier. You nearly ask Jeongguk to drop you off at his place, but you cannot seem to open your mouth to get the words out.

Instead, you text him. 

You: It's hard to keep tabs on you when you don't post story updates.

The message feels stupid, and you chew on the inside of your mouth once you hit send, staring at the screen and hoping that when he sees it, he does not find it annoying. Is there a chance of him being offended?

Three dots appear and disappear, over and over, making the anxiety in your tummy frantically build and crash like a wave pool that has just been switched on. But then he sends a simple little sentence that stirs both immense joy and deep, profound sadness— 

Namjoon: I miss you too, sweetheart.

—and you stare down at it until your vision blurs with tears.

As you open your mouth to ask to be taken to Namjoon's house, the dots appear and disappear again, and rather than speak, you clear your throat and wait for him to say more. 

"What is it?" Jeongguk asks, and you turn your head to him, confused at first, then realize he may have taken the sound as a feeble attempt at starting a conversation. 

"Oh," you respond, "Uh, nothing."

"Alright," Jeongguk says simply as he begins to turn into Jimin's driveway, waiting as the metal gate opens and allows you entrance.

As you pull into the drive, listening to the gate close behind you, the urge to cry becomes more difficult to tamp down. You swallow thickly, blinking away tears as Jeongguk stalls in front of the door. 

"You good?" Jeongguk asks, and you turn to regard him, but as soon as you open your mouth to tell him you are fine, the sounds die in your throat, and you have to swallow everything back down again. 

"Th-thanks for the ride," you manage to mutter as you get out of the vehicle and run to Jimin's door, punching in an eight-digit code and holding your eyes open as wide as you can manage for the retina scan. 

Once inside the dark, empty mansion, you sink against the cold, wooden door, feeling your chest heave with emotion so deep, you become nauseated. Gripped in your fist, your cell phone vibrates, and you lift the device in a shaking hand, checking the notification—

Namjoon: I miss your voice. And your smile. I hope you're taking care of yourself.

—which sends you crashing over the edge as tears pour and your voice comes out in a loud, terrible sob.

Your heart pounds as you cry, feeling the crushing weight of how deeply you miss Namjoon. Although each breath that enters and exits your lungs is a storm, rattling and shaking you to the core, you sniffle and hold your phone tightly in both hands as you place a call. It is late, but Namjoon is responding to texts, so perhaps he is free to talk. 

Namjoon picks up on the first ring, and when his deep, surprised voice says, "Hey, sweetheart," you sob even harder. How is it that something so tiny could make his absence feel so much heavier?

"Hey," Namjoon says, sweet and alert, "are you alright? Where are you?"

"I'm okay," you cry, punctuated by a sniffle. "I'm at Jimin's. Everything is fine."

"Everything does not sound fine," Namjoon insists, and you smile softly at his concern, taking in a deep breath. "Do you need something? Can I…can I do anything?"

Namjoon still owes you an explanation, and it is not something you will easily let slip. But you are certain that you cannot continue to keep him at a distance, even if it means putting the much-needed conversation on the back burner. Although life with Jimin has been fun and a little exciting, the loneliness you feel from being away from Namjoon and Yoongi has a tendency to become excruciating. 

"Can I see you?" you ask weakly, like a child who is afraid of being scolded. 

The soft chuckle that proceeds, "Of course, you can," warms your heart, and you close your eyes and smile wide, clutching your phone tightly to your ear. "Give me ten minutes? I'll be right there."

With a wet, disgusting sniffle, you say, "Okay," and rub the back of your hand against your nose. 

"I'll be there soon," Namjoon says as he ends the call, and you nod to nobody as you drop your phone down and clench it to your heart. 

It takes effort, but you peel yourself from the floor and kick off your shoes before heading up the stairs to your borrowed bedroom, squinting as you switch on the light. The room is similar to your room in Yoongi's mansion, but the bedding and curtains are pinks and oranges—a permanent sunrise. 

As you cross the room to the walk-in closet, you pull off the joggers and athleticwear from earlier and find a cute, soft pair of pink sleep shorts and a matching, loose pink tee. Then you run into the bathroom to brush your teeth. Even though you did not drink anything tonight, you want to kiss Namjoon until your lips bruise, and you need to be minty fresh. 

By the time you are rinsing your mouth and wiping your chin off, you hear a loud knocking on the front door, surprised that ten minutes could have passed so quickly. You run out of the ensuite and find your phone on the bed to shoot off a message before heading down to let Namjoon in.

You: One minute!

Although the rest of the mansion is dark, Jimin also has security lights on outside, and they shine through the windows enough to cast a silver glow over the small mezzanine and down the steps. You scurry down quickly, feet carrying you light and fast, and when you get to the front door and fling it open, you hardly have a chance to take in the sight of Namjoon before he is crossing the threshold and lifting you into his arms. 

A sob quakes through you as you wrap your arms and legs around him, burying your face into his neck. He smells musky—a bit sweaty—but the bright cologne with gentle floral hints you are used to are present. Namjoon closes the front door, haphazardly steps from his shoes, and makes his way to the stairs, stepping slowly as he holds you tight. If you are not mistaken, it feels like his breathing shutters through him, and you wonder if he may also be crying. 

"I'm sorry," you find yourself muttering when the silence stretches on long and oppressive. 

Namjoon squeezes you harder. 

"No," he says softly, voice trembling, "sweetheart, you have nothing to be sorry for."

"I made you cry," you sob, feeling guilt and sadness fill your lungs until it hurts to breathe.

Namjoon chuckles and sniffles, reaching the top landing of the stairs and turning to the right, toward the only light in the home that is on. He says, "Making someone cry is a side-effect of being in love, I'm afraid," and your heart goes wild behind your ribs, bursting with affection. 

"I've missed you so much," you whimper against Namjoon's skin, and when he leans forward and attempts to put you down onto the bed, you tighten your limbs, clinging to him like a koala.

"Let me set you down so we can get comfortable," Namjoon suggests, and you shake your head, groaning as you hold on tighter. He sighs, and tries, "Come on, I want to see you. I want to kiss you."

Once his attempts are futile, Namjoon gets onto his knees on the bed and bends until you are lying on your back with him towering over you. You finally move your head away from his neck and heavy-blink as you meet his eyes—which are bloodshot and blinking back tears.

"I've missed you too," Namjoon says as he kisses you, soft and sweet and warm. "I'm so sorry for everything that happened. I should have told you about everything, but I was scared to."

Namjoon's kisses are salty and wet, and he trembles above you, gripping the blanket tightly in his fists on either side of your head. Finally, you concede to his need to get comfortable, and you press against his chest, rubbing your fingers over soft black cotton. 

"Hey, lay down," you say softly, pushing a little harder. "You were right, let's get comfortable."

Namjoon sighs through his tears and gets up onto his knees, then crawls over to the pillows and makes a feeble attempt at moving the bright pink and orange floral comforter away. You sit up and help him, then run to the door to close it before adjusting the dimmer switch, lowering the lights just enough so that you can still see him. 

When you turn back to the bed, Namjoon has figured out the comforter, which is bunched up at the end of the against his feet, and he is sitting against the wooden headboard with his hands in his lap, watching you with a soft expression while tear tracks shimmer against his cheeks. He wears a black tee and black joggers, with his legs extended out but one leg bent slightly at the knee, and he is breathtaking—just as you remembered him. Maybe even more so. 

He has gotten a haircut recently, just above his ears, making him look younger. And it is darker; a more natural color. Some time ago—maybe a few days, or maybe a week—Namjoon posted a mirror selfie of the cut, obstructed mostly by his phone, and you are happy to finally see it in person. 

As you get onto the bed, on your knees, Namjoon reaches for you, pulling against the backs of your thighs until you have no choice but to straddle his lap, giggling at his insistence. You settle and drape your wrists over his shoulders to rub your fingertips over the short hairs on his nape while Namjoon's smile oscillates between joy and sadness. 

"I want to tell you I'm sorry," you begin, without giving him a chance to speak. You have been thinking about this every sober waking moment of however much time has passed—and some intoxicated moments, as well—and you feel it is necessary to get it off your chest. Emotions rise as you gather your thoughts, and your next exhale comes out shaky. "I was angry in Paris, but the things I said to you and Yoongi did not come from the heart. I was hurt, and I still am, but…I don't understand addiction. I have no idea what Yoongi must be going through, and I—"

You choke on a sob suddenly as a flash of Yoongi's face comes into view. The hurt way in which he stared ahead, straight through you, while you screamed and cried and demanded to be taken home.

Gently, Namjoon rubs his hands up and down your back, covering you in comforting warmth. His smile is sad, but he does his best to show that he is listening and that he is receptive to what you need to say.

"I just feel so awful," you continue as tears fall. You are so tired of crying and hurting, but it is a necessary step in healing, and you do your best to let it quake through you and settle into your bones. "I love Yoongi. I don't want him to be in pain."

"He knows," Namjoon finally says, but you screw your eyes closed and shake your head. He may have an idea of what you are going through, but he needs to hear from you that you are sorry. You need to tell him, yourself. "Yoongi using again was a bit of a surprise to all of us. Although it is something I always fear may happen again, I really had no idea it would happen like that, especially on vacation."

"When is he coming home?" you ask, feeling hopeful.

"Less than a week," Namjoon responds, smiling sweetly as he lifts his hands to thumb away the tears on your cheeks. "I have cleaned out the mansion, and Jeongguk has made sure the team taking over his responsibilities knows that heroin and other opioids are off limits. Jeongguk was already avoiding selling either in the first place, but he has reiterated that fact, to be on the safe side."

"That day, outside my room, you said there was a package with what looked like heroin," you say, watching as Namjoon's face screws up with worry. You grimace, adding, "I'm sorry I was eavesdropping."

"That…I still don't have all the details ironed out," Namjoon responds sullenly, "but I am certain that Jeongguk had nothing to do with it. Yoongi admitted that he had sent for the package on his own, and it arrived from overseas with a bunch of tailored suits. I don't know how he got a connect in Italy, but I really shouldn't be surprised; Yoongi knows people everywhere."

You nod somewhat listlessly, waiting for the crucial detail where Namjoon tells you he threatened the Italian guy, or found some way to rough him up—whatever the case—in order to keep him from sending Yoongi junk again. But when he does not continue, worry and sadness sink into your tummy like a brick. 

"So…" you begin, heavy-blinking and feeling at a loss for words before settling on, "...how do we make sure he doesn't use again?"

Although Namjoon continues to smile, his eyebrows pinch sympathetically, and he returns to rubbing your back. 

"We just love and support him," he offers, which feels both gigantic and minuscule, all things considered. "We continue to be there for him and…hope that it is enough."

"That's it, huh," you sigh, defeated. 

"Yeah."

Silence hangs, and you let your vision blur, attempting to sort out what you could possibly do. What if loving Yoongi is not enough? What if the pressures of his lifestyle only continue to press and press on him until he sinks another needle into his vein, desperate for relief?

"I wish he could just…not do this anymore," you mutter, blinking Namjoon back into focus. "Maybe having all this power and responsibility is too much."

With a sad chuckle, Namjoon nods. "Yeah, well…the only way out of a life like his is death."

Although that is not the response you want, it is the one you expect, and you lean heavily into Namjoon, accepting it for now. There is not much more to say until Yoongi is back. 

"Can we sleep?" you ask, feeling your body become weighted down with exhaustion and warm with a comfort you have not felt in what has seemed like eons. 

"I would love to sleep," Namjoon responds sweetly, releasing you from his hold as you slide down to the bed and begin to reach for the comforter. 

Namjoon gets out of bed to turn off the light, and for a split moment, in the cold, crushing dark, you begin to feel anxiety rush over you. In the cold, crushing dark, you are alone, alone, alone, isolated and heavy and so terribly scared. But then the bed dips, and warmth slides into place beside you. Limbs settle with a familiar weight, and suddenly, the darkness feels and smells like home.

"I love you," you tell the darkness, gasping when lips graze your cheek, your nose, and finally, your mouth. 

"I love you, too," the darkness tells you sweetly as you begin to drift to sleep.

Tonight, you did not get to kiss Namjoon until your lips bruised, but you feel satisfied with the fact that you were able to lighten the burden of heavy sadness just a little. And, in a matter of days, when you have the same conversation with Yoongi, it may not go the same way, but at least the three of you can continue to take steps in the right direction, and that allows you to sink into sleep with a smile on your face. 

When you wake up alone, your first instinct is to panic. You sit up with a start and check for any sign of Namjoon, but the ensuite door is wide open, and there is no sound coming from inside. The spot where he had slept is cold, and you begin to worry that it was all a dream and that he was never here at all. 

Frantically, you begin to search for your phone, which is not on your bedside table where you usually keep it, feeling the overwhelming urge to cry take over. What happened last night, and why is there no trace of him to be found?

With a deep breath, you close your eyes and run over the events of the night. You came in and changed, then you messaged Namjoon to let him know you were going down to let him in. Vaguely, you remember tossing your phone to the bed, and you begin yanking at your comforter, desperate to find it. 

Your phone must have been wrapped up in the bedding, because after only a moment of tussling and searching, you hear a nice loud thunk against the floor, at the foot of the bed. You let out an exasperated sigh and crawl to the edge, draping your body over the end as you reach and search for the device that has managed to find its way just under the bed frame. 

As soon as it is in your hand, you turn on the screen, eager to find evidence of Namjoon's existence, with your torso suspended in air. As soon as you see a notification from two hours ago, you smile and wiggle backward into a seated position to properly read it.

Namjoon: Hey, sweetheart, I'm so sorry I left while you were still asleep. I tried to wake you, but you were out cold. I'll be visiting Yoongi this afternoon. If you want to come along and you see this before 2 PM, let me know. Otherwise, I hope to talk to you soon. Thank you for letting me in this morning; I slept better than I have in weeks. I love you. 

Although affection blooms brightly in your chest, you feel sadness squeeze you tight, like an old friend. You do want to see Yoongi. You want to see him so badly, it hurts. But you are not sure you want to see him before he comes home. Wherever he is staying, and whatever state he may be in…you are not sure that you are prepared for that. 

It is only 1:45 PM, so you decide to call Namjoon. Not only are you eager to hear his voice once more, but you are not eager to voice what is in your heart over text. 

He picks up on the second ring, sounding a bit winded when he says, "Hey, sweetheart."

"Namjoon," you respond brightly, smiling widely. "Hey, I just woke up and saw your message."

"Ah," he responds, breathing heavily, "what time is it?" After a pause, he shouts, "Oh, shit, Gguk, I gotta go!" 

You laugh as you hear them chatter lowly, then say their goodbyes, imagining how adorable Namjoon becomes when he is frantic—eyes wide and worried while he flails his muscular limbs around somewhat aimlessly. 

"Gguek and I were working out," Namjoon says as you hear the sound of a door open and shut. "Lost track of time."

You smile, nibbling your lip. "Good thing I called."

"Good thing, indeed. So, did you—"

You don't mean to cut Namjoon off, but there is enough of a break between his statements, that you say, "Listen, Namjoon, I'm—" then halt, realizing you had spoken over him.

"Go on," Namjoon urges, and you close your eyes, listening to the sounds of his breathing, of birds singing around him, and of feet walking somewhat frantically down the dirt and gravel path between mansions. 

"I don't think I can go," you finally say, feeling meek and embarrassed as your voice drops and comes out with a tremble. "It's just…I don't know what to expect, and it…it scares me."

Namjoon says nothing for a few moments, and it makes you worry. But then you hear him keying in the passcode to his home and let yourself breathe. He is probably too stressed to be multitasking while in a rush. 

"Can I call you back? Or maybe we can talk about this later?" Namjoon finally asks, and you let out an even deeper sigh in relief. "I don't blame you at all for not wanting to come, but it feels like there is more you need to get off your chest. I have to take the fastest shower of my life, though, so that I can leave soon."

"Yeah, no…yeah. That's…" you stammer, squeezing your eyes closed and allowing yourself to smile while hot tears run from your eyes. Namjoon is so kind and understanding—so caring and giving. Affection burns for him, and you want to hug him so tight and never let him go. "If you want to tell Yoongi that we talked, I think it might make things easier for me later, but do whatever feels right…I don't know."

"I'll tell him what we discussed," Namjoon responds breathily as feet storm up a flight of stairs. "I know it'll make him happy to hear how you are doing, and how you have been handling things. I'm bringing him home in four days, so we can all sit down whenever you feel ready."

Four days is not soon enough, yet it feels like no time at all. Looming and terrifying, yet promising. 

"Okay, sounds good. Thank you, Namjoon."

When Namjoon says, "I love you so much, sweetheart. Thank you for calling," your heart squeezes, and more tears fall, cascading like tiny waterfalls. 

"I love you, Namjoon. Drive safe."

"Will do. Bye."

You mutter, "Bye," but your finger is already pressing the end call button, giving Namjoon all the time and space he needs to get ready. And then you hug your phone tight to your chest and continue to cry. 

Somehow, the happy tears feel thicker and hotter than sad tears—more present and urgent. If Yoongi comes back in four days, that means it has been just over two weeks in Jimin's home. You heavy-blink in an attempt to conceptualize the time, feeling ashamed by how little of it you remember. Briefly, you worry that you may have imposed, but Jimin has never so much as hinted at that fact, so you allow yourself to let the idea go.

It is difficult, at times, to accept the many ways in which you are loved. It feels strange to look back on how you ended up tangled in this web, with these men. Part of you wishes you and Yoongi could start over—meet organically and fall together not because of proximity and a need to cure a deep, aching loneliness that had built over years, but because you simply want to.

But could you simply want to fall in love with the head of a crime syndicate? No, you think. Probably not. 

Still, how do you explain that to someone who asks? I was kidnapped as collateral, but we fell in love feels like a story not too many people would understand. Probably, the average person would ask if you were alright and attempt to help you find refuge. Probably, they would be in their right mind to do so. 

The next three days drag. Knowing that you will see Yoongi and Namjoon again soon has you a little on edge, but not necessarily in a bad way. Your dancing suffers for it, and you find your movements too stiff, too off-beat; your head and your heart are clouded, and you cannot seem to get your body to do anything. Still, you try. Wasting away drinking at Paradise does not feel like the best way to spend your lonely nights, but you want to wait for Yoongi's return before spending too much time with Namjoon. 

Although the three of you have different bonds and dynamics, you almost feel guilty at the thought of hogging Namjoon to yourself while Yoongi is out healing in the countryside. Despite knowing he would tell you not to worry—to be with Namjoon and keep him company. 

And, part of you thinks of this time as getting your last moments in with Jimin before moving out of his space. You have not voiced it, but you have been going out of your way to spend just a little more time with him after work, before the two of you crash for the morning and sleep, curled up on the couch with whichever anime he feels like playing in the background—currently, Chainsaw Man. 

Jimin is phenomenal company, and you have really enjoyed following him around the house while he cooks, practices impromptu dance moves around furniture, and talks about nothing and everything. Even in quiet, still moments eating ice cream in the glow of the television, you feel the bond that has formed quickly and effortlessly, thankful to have a friend and ally on your side.

Despite the budding friendship, Jimin remains a somewhat secretive person. You have learned that his upbringing was privileged and full of wealth, but his parents were not kind about his desire to chase his own dreams instead of taking over the family business, and they quickly cut him off when he went to school for contemporary dance. It took no time at all for Jimin to wind up houseless, using his beauty to sleep with wealthy men and women for a meal and a warm bed. 

When Yoongi's mother found Jimin on the streets, she took him in with the promise of a better life, but how he came to replace her is unknown. How long Jimin spent on the streets, the kinds of things he saw in that time…all of those details, he hides behind a bright, practiced smile, only given away by the sadness that pours from his beautiful, round eyes. 

"I see myself in you, dove," Jimin says often, usually accompanied by a side hug or a kiss on the cheek. 

And at first, it made you feel strange. Jimin has come so far that maybe, you had originally thought, he sees you as a pet project; someone who needs to be fixed and turned into something beautiful. But now, you know that is not true. You know that Jimin sees persistence and survival; he sees someone imperfect but caring who just needs a little push to understand and figure things out, at times. 

Everything he has, he gained with persistence and survival; nothing was handed to him. Yoongi and his men, and possibly Yoongi's mother, taught Jimin the skills he knows today, that make him who he is. None of them became this successful alone; all seven of them play a crucial role. Eight, now, with you. 

You feel sentimental tonight when you lean against the bar cradling a glass of whiskey that you have been nursing for the last hour. Tomorrow, Yoongi returns home, and although it has not been voiced aloud, you can tell that the prospect has Jimin and Jeongguk in a better mood. You even spot Seokjin, Hoseok, and Taehyung coming in and out of Paradise, and they all seem chipper. 

Jimin is done up with pink and silver stage makeup, with his eyes and lips bright and shining. He wears his standard black satin top tucked into tight, leather black jeans, and tonight, he has a thick black rhinestone choker around his neck. 

Jeongguk, on the other hand, is pattern-clashing in a way that is both alluring and confusing. As standalone items, his silk, long-sleeve, plunging neckline leopard print shirt, and tight silver and blue floral lurex pants are solid choices. The shirt's neck falls nearly to his navel, showing beautiful topography of his chest—dips and hills of muscle and golden-tanned skin, accentuated by several mismatched gold necklaces; and the pants shine brightly in every light that dares grace his figure, drawing the eye to his muscular thighs and perky, round ass. But they look so strange and mismatched together, you cannot help but question what on earth he was thinking. 

"You sure have a staring problem, tonight," Jeongguk chides as he walks by, sending an inviting wink that makes you laugh far too boisterously.

"Just trying to figure out what you have going on, here," you respond with an incredulous smirk. "Did you get dressed in the dark, Gguk?"

With a roll of his eyes, Jeongguk responds, "Both items are Dolce and Gabbana, but okay."

And, without missing a beat, you say, "Pretty sure Dolce and Gabbana also produce plain clothes that would match better than this. Your black satin shirts would look really good with those pants, and…well, anything else would look good with that shirt."

"I don't expect you to understand fashion," Jeongguk teases, raking his eyes over your form as he takes a step closer. 

"Black, Jeongguk," you say, chin tilted high. "You have a closet full of black that would look phenomenal with both pieces."

With Jeongguk stepping into your personal space, that damned cologne hits you, and you begin to lose your composure. He really is suitable for smelling like a bouquet of wildflowers, especially with the spicy musk underneath; it is perfectly him. 

"I don't expect someone in boring Vuitton rags to appreciate the nuance," Jeongguk teases, voice dropping lower as he towers before you. 

"This dress costs as much as both that shirt and those pants combined," you bicker more quietly than before. The dress you wear tonight is certainly less flattering or flashy than what he wears—a Louis Vuitton brown and black knit mini dress with glitter thread mottling throughout. It has a square, rolled neckline and thin straps, but it hugs your curves nicely, falling mid-thigh. You raise your eyebrow to add, "Boss Min happens to like the way I look in Vuitton rags."

At the mention of Yoongi, Jeongguk softens, and you know you have won this round. Jeongguk scoffs, then slams back the rest of his drink, spinning on his shiny black leather boots before stomping off to where Hyejin and the dancers are congregated behind the main stage, going over something pertaining to the newly installed dance cages on either side of the bar, judging by how she points to them. 

You watch as Jeongguk walks away, allowing your gaze to linger on how those gaudy, silver-blue pants shimmer when they hug his ass, thanking your lucky stars that his silly fashion sense has, at the very least, provided you with a good show. 

When you turn back to the bar, you drink the rest of your whiskey and ask for another. The night is still young; the club has barely just opened and only a few patrons linger during the hours before the dancers take to the stages, but you have a feeling you are going to need to at least have a steady buzz to handle whatever bullshit Jeongguk is on. 

Two hours into your night, you are proven correct during a very flirty conversation with Hyejin about the dance cages—about how she thinks you should make your Paradise debut in one, asking if you would ever let her handcuff you to the bars—when the bartender informs you that the boss would like to see you in his office. 

Jimin seldom calls you to his office, but he is the only one who properly has one, so you head toward the back of the main room, past a security guard, and into a hallway that leads to Jimin's office, the dressing rooms for the dancers, and a meeting room that Hyejin and Jeongguk use when they need to. 

As you make your way to the door, you can hear the sounds of dancers chattering and laughing coming down the hall, and you assume that Jeongguk must be giving them their nightly pep talk in one of the dressing rooms. You knock twice on the office door, then try the handle. To your surprise, when you enter, the room is empty. 

Jimin has allowed you in his space alone plenty of times, so you make your way to have a seat in the leather armchair just in front of his desk. You decide to check your notifications while you wait and pull your phone from a small black purse that is slung over your shoulder.

The door opens and closes behind you, so you put the phone away before you have a chance to turn the screen on. And, instinctively, you stand to greet Jimin, surprised when you turn to find Jeongguk closing in, fast. 

Before you have a chance to speak, Jeongguk has the armchair shoved away, caging you against Jimin's desk, leaning close and low with both of his hands gripping the wooden surface. You practically sit against the edge, doing your best to lean back and away from Jeongguk, but he is a persistent, towering presence, and he wastes no time dragging his lips over your neck, just below your ear, sending a rush of arousal tingling through you at the touch. The scent of his cologne has your senses simultaneously dulled and on high alert.

"Jeongguk," you gasp, attempting to twist away but finding you do not want him to stop. "We can't—"

"I know," Jeongguk responds, voice deep and silky, lips dipping lower, dragging across your throat and leaving only the faintest hint of a spit trail. "Just want to tease you a little; make you squirm."

"Why?" you breathe, leaning back to create more space. 

When Jeongguk does not move, you lift your hands and press against his chest, attempting to push him back, but your palms slide on the silk shirt, and you wind up rubbing over his nipples, feeling metal under the drag of skin, causing Jeongguk to hiss as you gasp. Arousal builds and builds, and you squeeze your tights together, desperate to stave off the effect he has on you; you are, admittedly, touch-starved and somewhat feral. 

"I know you feel it, too," Jeongguk practically groans, still leaning way too close, voice spoken beside your ear. "We have undeniable chemistry."

"Of course I feel it," you respond, closing your eyes in an attempt to get your bearings while your heart pounds dizzyingly fast. 

Jeongguk asks, "Do you know how fucking hard it is to keep my hands off you?" in a tone that almost seems steeped in pain.

"Yes," you mutter softly, nodding shallowly. "I think I do."

With a sigh, Jeongguk finally takes a step back, but he stays close enough that you have to crane your neck; there is no room for you to stand away from the desk. The two of you stare at one another, and then Jeongguk scoffs and shakes his head. 

"Seeing you around so much has been…god, you drive me insane."

You chuckle, though you feel somewhat awkward being faced with his admission. Although, truth be told, being in Jeongguk's proximity so much during the last few weeks has also made you want to see him more and more; you know that, once you return to your normal life, you will come to miss him a lot. Or, perhaps, you can continue spending time at Paradise; there is nothing saying you cannot. 

"Last night, when I dropped you off," Jeongguk says, reaching up to gently cradle your chin in his hand, surprising you with his shift in demeanor, "were you crying?"

Although you glance away to respond, shyness rises, you nod slightly and say, "Yeah."

"Was it something I said?"

Quickly, you nod and return your gaze to Jeongguk, who looks genuinely concerned. "No. I was crying because I was missing Yoongi and Namjoon."

Jeongguk hums, drops his hand away, and takes a step back. 

Suddenly, the silence feels heavy, and you struggle to identify his reaction. He very clearly knows your involvement with both men, so why tense up at the mention of them?

"What's the matter?" you ask, unwilling to let anything weird hang between you. 

Jeongguk shrugs, but his eyes are on the floor, and it is clear that something is bothering him. 

"Jeongguk," you insist.

He sighs, and, without looking at you, says, "It just sucks that when things become normal again with you guys…I just…it's been nice to see you here."

"Ah," you respond. And you get it; it has been great to be around here and see him, Jimin, and Hyejin regularly. 

"But Yoongi will return and demand all your attention—" Jeongguk practically snarls, and you tut your tongue at him, staring incredulously as he balks at the interruption. 

"Yoongi does not demand anything from me," you say, standing up straight now that there is some space between the two of you. You feel defensive, but you can understand where Jeongguk is coming from; you really have not had any independence since moving into the mansion, but part of that is not having any direction or much desire to venture out, finding comfort and safety behind the familiarity of those walls. "Honestly, I have been loving it here. It's nice to leave the house for no occasion and see other people. I consider Hyejin and Jimin friends, and it has been so great having friends again. I don't want to suddenly stop seeing them. Or you."

"Won't you have your hands full with both of your boyfriends?" Jeongguk teases, and you are glad to see his mood has at least somewhat lightened; his smile has returned, even if his gaze remains sad. 

"Oh they definitely know how to keep my hands full," you respond with a wink, watching as Jeongguk's eyes and mouth widen comically. "But it is also nice having some space. Although I hate how all of this came about, I think taking a step back and allowing myself to really miss them and think about the many facets of our relationship has been important. I needed it."

"So I might actually see you from time to time?" Jeongguk asks, stepping close once more, seeming hopeful. It still amuses you when Jeongguk is all soft edges after so much time spent bickering with one another. 

This time, you step in close and rub your palms over his chest, making sure to drag your hands over his pierced nipples, smiling when he shivers beneath your touch. 

"We still have to finish what we started in Hong Kong," you say, voice dropped low and intentionally sultry. "I just haven't wanted to do anything without the others present…we haven't really discussed that, and I would feel too guilty leaving them out."

"I understand," Jeongguk responds, leaning into your touch and surprising you with a very soft, very chaste kiss on the lips before he mutters, "Taehyung will fucking kill me if we do anything without him."

Warmth floods your cheeks, and you drop your hands while taking a step back. Even after such a tiny taste, the urge to kiss Jeongguk is too great to stay in such close proximity. 

"We're going to have an entire audience, huh?" you ask, feeling more turned on by the prospect than shy.

Jeongguk chuckles and says, "Sounds like we will."

It almost feels surreal to discuss the topic of you and Jeongguk having sex so openly. Although you have had enough whiskey to give you a steady buzz, you are still clear-headed enough to spiral just a little over the thought of his body, and having it all to yourself. That is, unless the others want to play, as well; you really have no idea what to expect, and you are not certain you would deny them if they wanted to.

As you search for a way to end this conversation and return to the main bar before someone begins to notice the two of you are missing, Jimin comes barging in with his brows knit. Although you have done nothing wrong, there is a split moment of panic over how this may look, with the two of you in Jimin's office alone. 

But he simply glances between you and Jeongguk, huffs out a sigh, and says, "Oh, thank god. I was hoping to find you two in here."

"What's up?" Jeongguk asks, and you straighten out, worried that something may be wrong. 

"One of the regulars came in piss drunk and started harassing Hyejin. He groped her ass and when she slapped him, he got in her face. Security was able to intervene, but I need you to take him out back and fuck him up. Let him know shit like that doesn't fly at Boss Min's lovely establishment." 

Anger spikes heavily in your chest, and when Jimin turns to you and adds, "Dove, if you don't mind, I think she could use a friend," you nod, determined to do whatever it takes to make Hyejin feel safe. 

"On it," you say, walking past the men, down the short hallway, and out into the bar. 

Loud R&B music with a quick, enticing trap beat plays, and you stomp in your overpriced patent leather chelsea boots to the beat, storming into the main bar room like you own the joint and scanning the room for your girl. 

Standing at the main bar with her arms pulled tightly over her chest, is Hyejin surrounded by dancers. As soon as you approach, a girl who goes by Lily backs up and opens her arm wide to welcome you into the space. Hyejin is shaking when you drape your arm around her, hugging it loosely across her chest.

"Hey, beautiful," you say, and she turns and melts into you, throwing her arms over your shoulders and letting out a deep sigh. "Want to go out back and have a smoke?"

Hyejin hugs you tight and shakes her head, and you rub your hands over her back, waiting for her response. The dancers begin trickling out, having to get ready to perform, leaving pats on your and Hyejin's backs and soft words of support and encouragement. Once there is more space for her to breathe, Hyejin stands up straight and lets out another deep breath.

She is not crying, though her eyes are red, and when she looks at you with a frown, you gently place your hands at her temples and thumb at the smudged mascara under her eyes before muttering, "Perfect," with a grin. 

"I hate men," Hyejin says with a fake snarl, and you roll your eyes and nod dramatically, making her giggle. 

"Wanna talk about it?" you ask, and Hyejin shakes her head and says, "No. I want to dance."

Sitting on the bar is a half-empty pint of something bright blue, and Hyejin chugs it back, then leaves the empty glass behind and takes your hand, dragging you to one of the dance cages. The floor of the cage is raised about three feet from the ground and is a glowing octagon of rainbow color. Hyejin, wearing only a black satin bodysuit with lace trim and black stiletto heels, walks around to the back of the cage, closest to the nearby wall, and opens a door that blends in with the bars, then she takes a step up and hoists herself onto the platform. 

You follow behind and step up and into the cage, moving to the other side of the space to allow Hyejin to close the door. Although you are no stranger to dancing in sight of others, being in an elevated cage has your nerves spiked, and you wish you had taken a shot or three at the bar before agreeing to follow her. 

Hyejin wastes no time closing in on you with her fists around bars on either side of your head, and she holds on as she drops her hips low and swishes back up, all the while keeping her eyes on you. You sway to the beat with slower movements than the ones you watch Hyejin make, feeling entranced by her beauty and struggling to actually move the way she does. 

"Are you shy?" she asks with a raise of her eyebrow, and you chuckle, letting go of some of your anxiety while you nod and mutter, "A little."

Hyejin spins with her arms still lifted, and wraps them over your shoulders, then dips down again, rubbing her ass against your thighs before standing up straight. You realize too late that you are frozen in place with your arms somewhat bent, like a Barbie doll, and Hyejin turns and immediately starts to laugh, bending and flinging her hair in front of her face. 

"I'm not apologizing for who I am," you whine as you join her in laughing, feeling embarrassed by your inability to act like a normal person around her. 

"I would never dream of asking you to," Hyejin says as she leans back against the bars across from you, swaying her hips with an amused grin. "But it is very cute how flustered you get."

You roll your eyes and smile, glad to at least be considered cute. Flirting and being flirted with is hardly an issue, and you would probably relax more around her if things were not so uncertain at the moment, in your love life. You are sure Yoongi and Namjoon would not mind, but it is a conversation you would like to have before you allow yourself to get carried away. 

Or, perhaps, there is nothing to allow. Probably, there is no way in which things could get carried away, but you are once again spiraling because Jeongguk has gotten under your skin. With a deep inhale, you remind yourself that Hyejin is likely just being friendly and that you are allowed to relax and have fun with her. 

So have fun, you do. The song changes to something with more of a club beat, and Hyejin begins to pump her hands in front of her chest while shaking her ass in overexaggerated movements, gyrating in a chaotic circle. With your hands pulled over your head, you begin doing some wiggle-shake move creating waves all the way down to your legs, laughing as Hyejin throws her hands over her head in an attempt to do the same. 

"What do you call this one?" She shouts over the music, and you shake your head and say, "I don't know! The overcooked noodle?" 

Hyejin practically throws her body against yours with laughter, and you trip backward, catching yourself with a hand on one of the bars to lessen your collision. There are definitely patrons behind you who have a view of whatever it is the two of you are doing, and you try not to feel too embarrassed. 

"Yah," Jeongguk calls, making you attempt to turn around, trapped in place by a hysterical Hyejin. He rounds the platform enough to come into view and grabs onto two of the bars as he teasingly says, "You girls are gonna scare away the customers."

You raise one hand toward him as if threatening to strike him, shouting, "Oh, shut u—" but the word dies as soon as your eyes fall to Jeongguk's knuckles, which are scraped and bloodied. 

"Jeongguk, what the fuck?" you ask, reaching for the nearest hand, which he slides away. 

Hyejin stands alert, then squats to be at eye-level with Jeongguk, and you fully turn, checking to make sure he has no other cuts or bruises, glad that he seems otherwise perfectly fine. 

"Relax," Jeongguk grumbles, tonguing the inside of his mouth while he cracks the knuckles of one fist against his palm, then switches to the other side. "This is nothing; scuff marks. That guy didn't land a single punch before he was lights out."

You sigh but accept that there is nothing you would be able to do to convince Jeongguk not to fuck someone up. It is, after all, something he has likely been trained to do and is celebrated for within the ranks of the family. Still, you hate to see his pretty hands bloodied. 

"Well, you know I don't condone violence," Hyejin says, reaching her hands between two bars, smiling when Jeongguk steps closer and allows her to grab onto his wrists. "But I really appreciate you sticking up for me."

"Of course," Jeongguk grumbles, smiling the soft smile that he does when he is attempting to hide the sweetness that festers inside him, threatening to burst. Cute. 

With a sigh, Hyejin lifts the wrist that Jeongguk wears his watch on, yanking it close while tilting her head to get a look. "I should go tend to the girls," she grumbles, releasing Jeongguk and standing to give you a kiss on the cheek.

You follow Hyejin's movements, watching which bars are part of the door, nervous that they blend in well enough and that you could be trapped in this cage for the rest of eternity, then you turn back to Jeongguk, who has two hands on two bars, and is staring up at you. 

"So," he says, stretching himself tall to speak to you, arching his back and tipping his chin upward. "I was wondering…"

Since you are already in the cage, and Jeongguk had already been a menace to your health and well-being earlier, you decide to take a page out of Hyejin's book and swish your body in an inviting wave as you squat, dragging your hands down the bars but keeping them lifted above your head. 

Jeongguk visibly swallows, losing what he was just in the process of saying, and you watch as his eyes trail to where your short skirt hugs your thighs, undoubtedly giving him a view of the black panties you wear underneath. And although you do not mind letting Jeongguk sneak a peek, you are glad that the lights are fairly dim in the club.

"What was that?" you ask, tilting your head to the side and giving a look that feigns innocence. 

The expression on Jeongguk's face flashes comically from needy to pained to frustrated, and he huffs out a sigh, shaking his head as if trying to rattle his thoughts free.

 "What I was going to say before you so rudely interrupted me, is that we should have dinner soon."

Jeongguk's offer takes a moment to compute, and you stare at him, heavy-blinking, trying to determine whether he is asking you on a date, or if we means more than just the two of you. 

"We, as in…"

"You, me, and our men."

"Ah," you respond; that makes sense. "Yeah, we should. That would be fun."

Jeongguk nods, letting his gaze fall once more to your legs before drifting slowly back to your face. "I'll talk to Taehyungah. Perhaps he can host, and I'll cook."

With an incredulous raise of your brow you ask, "Oh, you cook?" in a mocking tone of sheer disbelief. 

Jeongguk reaches up and holds his hands over yours, gripping firmly while he leans in, head between the bars and close. From here, you smell his cologne; from here you resist the urge to lean in close and kiss him. 

"I happen to be an excellent cook, dollface."

"Is that so?" you ask, voice much less confident than a moment ago.

"That is so," Jeongguk says, then he leans in somehow even closer, making your head spin. "So, it's a date?"

"Yeah," you respond, feeling your heart go wild behind your ribs. "It's a date."

What you did to me made me see the world differently Mis lágrimas se secan solos, solos Pues mírame a los ojos Dime si ves el vacío que deja amor perdido Yo no duermo hasta que mis sueño' están cumplidos Sé que estoy perdiendo, pero el juеgo no ha concluido

🎵 visit the playlist

ahhhh!!! how are we feeling??? i presonally really love this chapter. the next one containing the promised smut™ is coming very, very soon!!!! i promise. i was sad to leave Yoongi out of this chapter, and it was not my intention to have a full chapter without him, but it made sense to split the mega chapter this way, and it felt wrong to rush him back without mc taking time to sort her thoughts out and attempt to gain some independence.

thank you for reading!!! 💜💜💜 reblogs and comments make the world go 'round, and likes are nice too!!!

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Collateral is copyright 2022-2023 theharrowing, all rights reserved.

[simply-windy]

I Wanna Love You Both [Pt. 1]

Skate was lying in bed with his boyfriend Coil, eyes digging holes into the ceiling above them. Skate was lost, deep in thoughts and all sorts of situations swirling around in his mind. It was starting to give him a bit of a headache. Ow, he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit. He closed his eyes, shifting his head to the side slightly as he felt Coil nuzzle his face deeper against his throat, his boyfriend’s breath grazing his skin. The two had been together for a while now, about a year or so. Skate always sucked with time, so their relationship could’ve been much longer and he was just dumb and couldn’t remember. Yeah, he was probably just being dumb by all means. Him and Coil were really close, the bestest of best friends, but there was a moment in time where Skate’s feelings had shifted into something more romantic. He had been scared, absolutely terrified, he didn’t want to tell Coil his feelings in fear of ruining the totally rad and killer friendship the two had for years. But he managed to do it, he managed to tell his feelings. He had been a mess, stumbling over his words and looking like a total fucking loser in his mind. To Coil, Skate was the cutest ever and returned his feelings full force. Skate had been so happy, so fucking happy. Lately tho, he’s realized he has feelings for someone else too now. Boombox. Another good friend of the skater demon. All sorts of romantic thoughts flooded his head whenever he was with the green DJ. Thoughts of holding hands, thoughts of kissing. The same thoughts he’d have about Coil. Hell! Skate slowly realized he had thoughts about doing that kind of stuff with both of them. Snuggling up with them, kissing both of them, going out on cute little dates and having the best time of his life. He wanted both of them. He wanted them both SO badly. A gentle nip at his neck broke him from his mental spiral, head tilting towards the bi-colored demon. Shit, Coil could always tell when he was worried. Sometimes he hated that, most of the time he loved it. Coil moved one hand down, fitting it snuggly against Skate’s hip before giving it a loving squeeze. “Somethin’ wrong, baby?” Gods above, that nickname, “baby”, it always made Skate melt. Coil made him melt, Boombox made him melt. Fucking god. Skate lie there, eyes locked with the bi-colored demon’s. Coil opened his mouth, about to say something else before Skate interrupted him. “Coil?” Coil raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side. “Would… Would you be mad if I told you I had a crush on someone?” Coil cock up an eyebrow before answering. “No, why?” Skate relaxed. Okay, cool! Coil wouldn’t be mad at him. He still hesitated, trying to gain the mental strength to continue on. A small silence washed over the two before Skate continued.

“I… I’ve been like- Havin’ feelings for BB. And like- They’re the same feelings I have for you, man. Like- Romantic shit. I wanna cuddle up to him, I wanna kiss him and shit like that. I wanna get all gross and lovey dovey. Just like I do with you. I never said anything because…. Because I was like- Worried you’d hate me. I hope you don’t hate me- Please don’t hate me.” Coil sat there and listened, waiting until the other was done before speaking. “Baby. If you wanna be datin’ someone else while datin’ me then I don’t really care. I wouldda been hella pissed off you started datin’ Double B and you hadn’t told me.” Skate relaxed more, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. God, why had he been so nervous? Coil was always the chiller one out of them. He always seemed so understanding. Or well, at least he seemed understanding of Skate and his emotions specifically. Skate’s tail twitched, the red demon needing a moment before continuing. “So… Would you be like- Good if I asked him out? And that I like- Dated both of you?” “Course. Who knows, maybe I’ll earn myself a second boyfriend too.” The canine demon said with a grin. Skate snickered with an eye roll, adjusting his position to better snuggle up to Coil. He closed his eyes, breathing in his boyfriend’s scent. Coil always had this comforting musk to him, a scent that made Skate relax and his tail idly swish against the bed. “Maybe… Maybe tomorrow I’ll talk to BB…” “Yeah, I can come with ya if you want me too.” Skate shook his head, hugging onto Coil tightly. “I can do it myself, big guy. But…” Coil brought his clawed hand up, slowly moving the digits through his boyfriend’s hair. “But thank you for not… Y’know… Thinking it would be weird for me to love you and BB the same way. It- It means a lot, y’know?” Coil chuckled, leaning down and pressing a kiss between Skate’s eyes. “‘Course baby. Thanks for tellin’ me.” “Love you, Coil.” “Love you too, Skater.”

[sega-saturn-arcade]

WORLD'S MOST RUSHED INTRO

one day i'll have a cutie patootie intro on my blog but for now

hi!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! im Gav but i go by kin names occasionally and some other names when i feel like it. my pronouns fluctuate OFTEN and usually my discord pronouns show what i currently prefer but. since nobody has my discord here it's a safe bet to just use he/they for me :3 I am also 19 years old so please keep this in mind when interacting!

i am fictionkin this is my fictionkin blog where i post fictionkin things what more do you want. feel free to follow or send an ask about kin memories or anything else; interaction if you so please is encouraged :3!!! i looooooooooooooooove LOOOOOOOVE yapping about my kin stuff. REMINDER THAT THIS IS NOT A RP BLOG! I AM THE CHARACTERS IN MEDIA I TALK ABOUT BEING!! I am a spiritual kinner and believe that all the characters i am are past lives

Additionally, I also use the term "kinnie" just as a term for who i am, not as a "kin for fun" thing. i do not kin for fun despite using the term kinnie. I do not refer to others as such unless they are okay with it.

doubles are VERY welcome on the blog!!!!!!!!!!

very quick i'll add a DNI; reminder it's nothing you did it is simply personal boundaries! Pleasae do not take anything personally here, thank you! I also block as I please. DNI: {Vivziepop supporters, Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss fans (who do not think critically of the show), Valentino kins or fans of any kind - South Park fans/people who do not think critically of the show/"glaze" it - People under 16 - DSMP fans, generally weird folks + problematic people, - Harry Potter fans/kins who actively engage and consume their source material - ZIONISTS OR PEOPLE WHO DONT CARE ABOUT GAZA FUCK OFF - anti-kin blogs and the such - ABSOLUTELY DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE A PROSHIP, HAVE ANY SORT OF -PHILE OR -PHOBE SHIT, OR ARE A GENERAL FUCKING WEIRDO. THERE ARE SPACES FOR YOU ON THE INTERNET THAT ARE NOT HERE. thanks <:3}

ABOVE ALL ELSE!!! FACTKIN DNI!!!!!!!!!!!

Reminder that all fictives from said sources are allowed! You shouldn't be excluded for your existence in any sense :]

i'll throw my kinlist under the cut !!! if you might be curious

🎸 FICTOTYPES X3 🎸

⋆ high kins ☆ Klavier Gavin 《Ace Attorney》 🎸 ☆ Party Noob 《Regretevator》 🎉 ☆ Boombox 《Phighting》 🎧 ☆ Lychee Dragon Cookie 《Cookie Run: Ovenbreak》 🎲

⋆ medium kins ☆ Subspace T. Mine 《Phighting》🧪 ☆ Android 21 《Dragon Ball》 🧁 ☆ OWAKCX/Lime 《Sprunki》 🍃 ☆ Pinkie Pie 《My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic》 🎁 ☆ Shiver Hohojiro 《Splatoon 3》 🌶️ ☆ Jevil 《Deltarune》 🎭 ☆ Monkey D. Luffy 《One Piece》 🦈 ☆ Josuke Higashikata 《JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure 》 💎 ☆ Dino Sour Cookie 《Cookie Run: Ovenbreak》 🦖 ☆ Ibuki Mioda 《Danganronpa》 🎼 ☆ Rin Kagamine 《Vocaloid》 💛 ☆ Beika 《Splatoon 3》 🦐 ☆ Frankie Stein 《Monster High》 💀 ☆ Pearl Houzuki 《Splatoon 2》 👑 ☆ Mettaton 《Undertale》 💄 ☆ Mangle 《FNAF 2 》 🌀 ☆ Agent 4 《Splatoon 2 》 🍌

⋆ low kins ☆ Milky Way Cookie 《Cookie Run: Kingdom》 🌙 ☆ Sylveon 《Pokémon》 🎀 ☆ Rockstar Cookie 《Cookie Run: Ovenbreak/Kingdom》 🎵 ☆ Twizzly Gummy Cookie (Twizzy) 《Cookie Run: Kingdom》 🔌 ☆ Iono 《Pokemon SV》 👾 ☆ Boyfriend 《FNF》 🎤 ☆ Denki Kaminari 《My Hero Academia》 ⚡️ ☆ Nezuko 《Demon Slayer》 🦋

👾 FICTOKINTYPES X3 👾 ☆ Wyvern ☆ Amalgamation Werewolf Thing ☆ Roblox Noob 💙 ☆ Lust Demon (i do not know what catagory to put this kin in)

🕹️ THERIOTYPES X3 🕹️ ☆ Thresher Shark ☆ Utahraptor ☆ Cat

[sasuhinasno1fan]

Stay Peachy and stay the hell away from me - Adrien AUGreste 2024 Day 27

So, I had to go back and figure out where Stay Peachy came from and when I found out it came from Mr. Banana, I had a thought. When I was a kid, there are actual pictures of me shying away from those full body characters, like Micky Mouse style and such. Like, I got to go to the White House Easter Egg events as a kid and all the pictures with me and a character, I'm pressed up against whoever is holding me, trying to get away and it led into this. Obviously I'm fine now, but I know others have the fear continue as they get older. I've now made Adrien one of them, which is kinda hilarious as he's a cosplayer in this world.

“Wow. This is, kinda amazing.”

Adrien preened at that comment. The Italian Embassy was putting together a Carnevale in Paris event for Italians who couldn’t fly back home and to those who couldn’t afford to get the train over and rent costumes to have a place to wear said costumes. Streets near the embassy were closed off – perk of being friends with Chloe now, she could help spirit along paperwork faster by bugging her father – stalls were erected, events were planned, with performances, a costume contest for the kids and just a small taste of what Carnevale in Venice was like.

His mom and the other diplomates knocked the decorations out of the park and the ambassador even managed to hire a few actual performers for the private masquerade ball the embassy would be holding. That was when Adrien would bring out his show stopping costume – that took more labour than his Queen Serenity wings, especially since he made Luka’s as well – but for now, as he stood at one of the entrances with Felix, he made do with a gold filigree mask, currently sitting on top of his head. The English boy was visiting, his mother busy with a movie shoot in the streets of Paris, so he joined his look alike at the festival as Adrien’s guest. If Amalie had been surprised with how identical, Viola had to keep reminding herself she only gave birth to one blonde boy.

“It’s gonna be a lot of fun. Think of it like a street festival and admire the costumes! That’s the best part in my opinion. Remind me to show you the pictures I got of my mom when we dressed up during the off season.” Adrien said.

“Stay Peachy!” a sudden hyper voice cried, making both boys jump like cats. Standing behind them was someone in a smiling banana costume, wiggling and dancing to the hip hop music coming from a nearby boombox. They struck a pose, the eery still smile creeping Adrien out.

He hated those type of full body costumes. The amount of pictures his family had of him, in his parents’ arms, hiding away from a person with covered hands and oversized heads. Adrien barely made it through his tours of Disney parks as he got older.

“Oh, fuck right off.” Felix muttered, grabbing Adrien’s arm and dragging him into the busy streets. “Where is your boyfriend meeting us? Or is he still waiting to get in?”

Luka found them and Adrien immediately took them to get food. They had plans to meet up with the rest of the class to see Marinette’s entry for the costume contest, an outfit based on one of her mother’s favourite fantasy C-Dramas, so Adrien was going to introduce them to his favourite foods until then. Each street seemed to be dedicated for a different part of Italy and while Adrien talked about how his family mainly stayed in Rome, he was lucky to be able to see other parts and indulge in their version of the culture.

“I lived off this whenever mom was too tired to cook.” Adrien said, leading them to a Pizza al taglio stand. “We’d order way more than we needed and could have the rest for later.”

“It’s probably a good thing this isn’t normally in Paris.” Luka said, looking at all the sheet pans the stall managed to fit onto a fold out table. “How are we supposed to stay empty for everything else?”

“Well, I plan to introduce you to stomach, so keep empty.” Adrien promised.

Felix shrugged. “I prefer a full English breakfast, so I’m fine.”

Luka looked so lost, Adrien didn’t have the heart to mention, a full English normally had pigs’ blood. Most Parisians survived off of bread, Adrien didn’t want to overload him.

He distracted Luka with finding a stall making fresh carbonara to order and the three decided to split an order. He had Luka and Felix try first, wanting them to apricate the simple ingredients to one of his favourite dishes.

“That’s really good.” Luka commented.

“Better than most restaurants I’ve been too. Trick must be the old woman making it.” Felix said, looking at the older lady behind the stall who was the one putting the whole dish together while her kids, according to what Adrien was able to pick up, made the pasta at the table.

Adrien took the bowl from Felix, excited to eat when that damned voice popped up again.

“Stay Peachy!”

It was so sudden and loud, Adrien screamed, jumped and let go of the bowl. The rest of the carbonara was on the ground and Adrien swung around, glaring at the stupid person in the banana suit, posing behind him. They were close to, like they’d been sneaking up on Adrien.

“I’m going to kill you.” Adrien swore, Luka grabbing him before he could take a step.

“Hey, they should have gelato right?” Luka distracted. “You promised to get me a good one. Didn’t your mom say that the famous store who made the cone into a flower had been invited? Where would they be? They are considered good right?”

Adrien became distracted, but Felix gave the performer a steely glare that got Mr. Banana to back up slightly before he went to follow the couple.

They got distracted on their quest for gelato by cheese; parmigiano and mozzarella and bufala. Adrien insisted they try bruschetta.

“It’s tomatoes, oil and salt, you honestly can’t go wrong. It’s a more put together version of the tomato con pan we had at the beach.”

It was further distracted by arancini, a new favourite of Luka’s that Adrien’s nonna had made during her visit. They ended up bumping into Chloe and Sabrina and Zoe, a teen star who modelled for Chloe’s mom and while she had a contract in France for a while, Chloe took it upon herself to show her around. Zoe had the most out of all of them, moaning a little about needing to be at try ons for a show the next day but Adrien waved her off, Chloe supporting him.

“I don’t know about Italian designers, but I refuse to believe Italian models give up their favourite food just to be perfect in clothes. Besides, arancini doesn’t count, it’s made by the gods.”

“I don’t think that excuse works when I say that about pizza.” Zoe pointed out.

“Then you clearly are missing out on thin crust. Try the pizza stalls on the Rome street. It’s thin and the three of you can share and not feel guilty if you’re that worried. But first, gelato! Oh, cannoli!”

Like a kitten with a short attention span, Adrien rushed over to the closest stall in the Sicily street they found themselves in. The Italian convinced the teen star to split a cannolo with him before Chloe dragged her to a stall selling clothes. Adrien was being a messy child and licking some of the excess cream before it fell out of the pastry when…

“Stay Peachy!”

Like the worst jump scare, Adrien jumped back and his half-eaten cannolo was caught by Felix. The English boy tried not to gag at the damp pastry while Luka grabbed Adrien from under his arms to lift him up and stop him from attacking Mr. Banana.

“Your mom is running the event. I don’t think she wants to make sure you’re covered by diplomatic immunity if Sabrina’s dad arrests you for attacking someone.” Luka reminded.

“Even if they deserve it?” Felix asked, pinching the pastry and stuffing it into Adrien’s mouth, making him look like a demented squirrel gathering food. His cheeks where puffed from the cream and it lessened the affect of the glare he was given the demented banana.

“Ok, let’s go.” Luka ordered, heading towards a different street. it was getting close to meeting with the others but the rocker wanted to avoid an international incident.

It counted as international if an Italian and an English attacked a French performer? Luka didn’t want to find out.

Alya was not at all sympathetic when she heard. She was still holding Adrien’s issues with feathers and his cosplay shoot over his head.

“You can’t tell me some cosplayers don’t get dressed in outfits like that.”

“They do. I avoid them. those things give me the creeps. You also can not tell me that the smile isn’t really creepy!”

“I mean, Noel doesn’t normally get scared of things,” Nino said, mentioning his stubborn younger brother, “but he doesn’t like those guys either. I swear he screamed bloody murder when we saw a Bluey character.”

Adrien pointed to Nino like it was all the answer he needed.

“Oh, that does not count! My twin sisters think they’re the human version of some twin devil trickster.” Alya pointed out.

“Thank god they aren’t.” Adrien heard Luka mutter but he ignored his boyfriend to try and continue making his point while they made their way to the stage that the costume contest was going to be at.

Adrien was able to distract himself with admiring the outfits people wore, and even pulled his own mask down to fit in. It made him even more excited to get dressed in his outfit for the masquerade ball. He gossiped with the others on what they were going to wear, hearing what others promised their costumes to look like. They made it to the stage as the MC was getting it started. Even in the back, they were able to find an area that gave them a clear view. Everyone marvelled over the costumes as they came out, the groups' cheers getting loud when Marinette took the stage. Marinette was more the type to dress her models and direct them from behind the camera, but she was doing a pretty amazing at posing. Though that might have to do with Adrien’s training she asked for.

Marinette just got picked for the next round of non-traditional costumes when the MC called for a short break so the next round members could get set up and those who didn’t make it past could still get the chance for pictures by the crowd. As those people made it into the crowd, the MC called upon a well-loved performer to entertain them.

“Stay Peachy!” Mr. Banana cried as he jumped on stage.

Felix rolled his eyes while Adrien frowned.

“Will you relax? Kids love him.” Alya said.

“Kids don’t make any sense.” Adrien said. “I saw a stall with flowers, I’m gonna get Marinette a bouquet to congratulate her. Take pictures if I take too long.”

“I’ll go with you.” Felix offered.

“Please behave. And don’t get distracted by food you’re not planning on bringing back!” Luka called.

“Just for that, I’ll bring you the stomach!” Adrien called back, giggling at Luka’s face.

They got the flowers and became distracted when Adrien located a gelato stand. In his defence, it had been all they talked about since they entered the festival. He gave Felix the flowers to hold while he expertly handled 6 cones in total.

“Wouldn’t cups of been easier?” Felix asked.

“Everyone loves gelato in a cone.” Adrien said when –

“Stay Pe – Ahh!”

Mr. Banana was given a face full of flowers as Felix smacked them with the bouquet before he kicked him over. The ruined bouquet was thrown at the writhing banana as Felix grabbed Adrien and dragged him back towards the stage.

“What am I supposed to tell my mother when she asks about the blonde boy who assaulted a performer?” Adrien asked.

“Like I’d let you take credit for that.”

The others did hear about it later. Adrien was helping Nino figure out the socks in the traditional Vancian suit when Luka asked.

“Apparently the Mr Banana performer got assaulted. They’re pretty upset. Face full of flowers too. Odd how Marinette’s never showed up.”

Adrien shrugged. “Gosh. Maybe he should, stay peachy. Keep the moral up. He’s still got to dance for a pay check. As long as it’s far, far away.” The blonde muttered the last part.

The Ladybug holder sighed. To be fair, Luka knew what his boyfriend was like when he was mad. Sure, it was usually cursing and insults but he’d used physical violence as a threat. Luka couldn’t prove Adrien had used the bouquet, though the cups he came back with in hand did push the suspicion off of him, he wouldn’t put it past the Italian to attack Mr. Banana.

Tikki would later say she found Mr. Banana’s smile creepy and something of an off-putting memory, so at that point, Luka just let the whole thing go.

[bellamer]

Rose Tints My World (The Lost Boys x Male OC, Slight NSFW)

(The boys and Rihan get back from a midnight screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show and leave with something awakened in them. Unfortunately for Rihan, it means they're going to try to coerce him into doing it by any means.)

(I wrote this a year ago. Never published it)

-

"...Boys, considering that tonight was the first time that you saw this movie, I must ask, why do you have these just laying around in a fucking trunk ?!?" Rihan asked, pulling a corset out of the trunk, along with a nice garter set that included panties, black heels and a feather boa.

"Long story short, a few decades back, Marko and I had a short affair with a showgirl and she kinda left some of her clothes for shows behind and we kept them because...huh, I guess we always liked it, but seeing it on a dude turned me on in a whole different way." Paul said out loud.

"And how do you know that it'll fit me ?" Rihan asked, continuing to riffle through the clothes. "She was a woman, I'm a man."

"You two actually had similar frames, and funnily enough, she had to get her heels custom made because the shoe stores always said that she had 'the feet of a man' so the heels might fit you." Paul said in an amused tone. "Just please put em on Ri ?"

"I'm gonna look ridiculous, fuck no." Rihan said crossing his arms.

"No you won't !" Marko interrupted, moving closer to Rihan. "We wouldn't ask you to do this if we were gonna laugh at you !"

"How about we cut a deal ?" David asked from his seat across the room. "Why don't you try it once, Ri, and if you don't like it or God forbid, one of us laughs at you, you take it off, never wear it again, we never talk about it again and we'll buy you one of those funnel cakes from the boardwalk you're so fond of." He said, trying to negotiate.

Rihan was quiet for a few moments before he answered.

"Fine." Rihan said, rolling his eyes. "But I still want a funnel cake either way and you're not allowed to skimp and buy a plain powdered sugar one, I want the expensive one with the glazed strawberries and whipped cream." He pouted.

"Only if you still do it for us, baby boy." David purred, making Rihan flustered.

"Fine...I'll do it." Rihan said, crossing his arms. "But I'm only doing it for the funnel cake."

David grinned.

"Marko, go get Star to do Ri's makeup, Paul, go get the tunes, something nice and easy preferably and Dwayne, put Laddie to bed early." David, watched as everyone went to put everything together. "This is gonna be fun~"

-

Rihan sighed from behind the makeshift curtains Marko made out of discarded bedsheets.

"Alright, I'm ready !" He called out.

"You heard him, Paul, he's ready, start the music." David said to Paul, who eagerly pressed play on the boombox.

Rihan heard the slow guitar and immediately recognized the song.

"Really, Paul ?!? The Jack by AC/DC ?!?" Rihan called out. "That song is about gonorrhea, you want me to dance to a song about gonorrhea ?!?"

"It's all I could find on short notice, so just ignore the lyrics and dance !" Paul said, rolling his eyes. Rihan groaned and prepped himself before deciding to get on with the show.

Rihan slowly stuck his leg out from behind the curtain, showing off the fishnets and the heels he was wearing. He heard one of his boyfriends whistle, he knew it was probably Marko. Rihan took a deep breath and slowly emerged from behind the curtains, swaying his hips along to the music.

"Lookin' good, Ri !" Marko called out, clapping his hands, whooping, only to calm down when David put a hand on his arm.

"Show just started, you can't be losing it at a preview." David scolded, as if they were watching a feature presentation.

Rihan ignored the two and continued on with his performance, rubbing his hands up and down his thighs, spreading his legs open as popped down into a squat. He swore he saw Dwayne lean forward in his chair. Rihan slowly stood up and began to dance.

He wasn't a professional by any means, but he did what he could, lifting his legs, shaking his ass, spinning, twirling, even doing a split. He even slowly stood up and undid the corset, dancing around with it pressed to his chest, before eventually discarding it, exposing his chest.

Paul started clapping and whooping, David whistled, Marko damn near fell on his knees and Dwayne was biting his lip so hard, his fangs sprouted and drew blood from his bottom lip. He even caught Star staring at him.

Rihan continued to dance and decided to finish off with the grand finale, stepping off his little platform and walking closer to the boys, the heels clacking, as he started to shake his ass.

"Oh fuck, that's my favorite part of him~" Paul breathed out. "That sweet, sweet ass...."

Then, suddenly, without warning, Rihan slipped off the panties and threw them in a random direction, that direction happening to be where Dwayne was sitting. He swore he heard Dwayne's breath hitch as he grasped the panties, Paul and Marko looking on in jealousy.

Finally, the music stopped and Rihan turned to look at them all, resting his hands on his hips.

"So..." Rihan started, breaking the silence. "How was that ? Considering you all look like you want to devour me, I'll assume I did a good job ?"

"Let's just say you definitely earned that funnel cake..." David husked. "Now bring that sweet ass over here and earn your toppings." He said, spreading his legs at patting his lap.

Rihan obeyed, sitting on David's lap, David resting his hand on Rihan's ass.

Rihan was definitely going to work for those toppings.

[ohsoulymoons]

Duncan/Brody Ship Boombox AU

Geoff holding the boombox for Brody as Brody screams and hollers the song lyrics in ugly cries for Duncan to come back to him!

Angst...

Meanwhile it's been 4 weeks since Duncan barely got out of Juvie waking the fuck up in conflict then remembers oh yeah, I have a boyfriend.

Hot sea brain filled with pure joy and the beach boy CDs live rent free in his mind type of boyfriend! Named Brody and their loyal friend Geoff basically the reason they found each other!

Brody thinks Duncan left him or hates him.

Later on, they makeup but not after Geoff throwing the said "boombox" through Duncan's window to fucking wake the fuck up!

Meanwhile the songs: