#I apologize if my terminology is a bit awkward since I know very little about you guys

[mongoose-bytes]

I don’t know much about plural/system stuff, but since there’s a lot of overlap with dæmonism, I’m curious to see how many folks in the community are plurals and systems. Please be respectful to eachother in the notes! This poll is intended in good faith for community demographics, and not to cause any arguments.

[edenfenixblogs]

This is just terminology but regarding asking goyim to ID ourselves as such, may I ask if there's a specific reason you prefer that phrasing? Asking because I've previously heard that hearing someone self-describe as goyische can be a bit jarring due to Connotations from white supremacists "reclaiming" the term (scarequotes bc that's obviously not how reclamation works) so I'm wondering if you have an alternate perspective I should be taking into account or if it's just like, personal preference/not that deep.

Ah! @faggotry-enjoyer, My friend! I did not see this message from you until today! My deepest apologies!

I didn’t mean that every goy had to specifically call themselves goy. I’m just descended from Hungarian, Russian, French, and Mongolian Yiddish speakers and that’s more familiar a term to me than “gentiles.”

Personally, I’ve always found “gentiles” a little awkward as a term anyway. As I’ve stated repeatedly, goy is a fully neutral word with no positive or negative connotations. But the word “gentile” seems to have a weirdly positive connotation that I find off-putting. It seems far too close to the word “gentility” for me.

It feels like “gentile” is a person of “the gentility,” thus inherently socially, behaviorally, and aesthetically superior to non-gentiles (aka Jews). Perhaps this is just because of my relationship to Hebrew (and its use of root constructions that convey connotations in the base structure of the word) that this seems to be a term that is inherently critical of Jews in a pretty blatant way. But it always seems just…idk. Uncomfortable for me to use I guess. It feels like I’m putting myself down to elevate someone else and acknowledging their inherent superiority over me.

That said, I am in no way suggesting that this is how all Jews relate to this word. I have studied Hebrew since I was very young (I’m not a fluent speaker anymore, but I was once), and I’m a writer and love words and etymologies. It is extremely likely that I am thinking more about this than someone else would or does.

So, I say goy because it is the most neutral to me. It doesn’t convey that I’m better than a goy or that a goy is better than me.

When I said “goyim identify yourself as such,” I meant more generally, “if you’re not Jewish, please indicate that in your reblog or tags when reblogging from a Jewish person.”

And to anyone who is new to my blog, the reason I asked goyim to do this is because Jews feel very alone and hated right now and a very easy way to help us feel better is to just let us know that someone outside of our community sees and hears us. It so very often feels like we are shouting from inside a soundproof room and we can only hear and be heard by each other.

There are so very few Jews left in the world. It is simply impossible for us to survive if we advocate for ourselves alone. We need goyische voices alongside our own if we hope to be heard at all amongst those who outnumber us.

One thing about Jewish culture though, we all disagree a lot about a lot of things. Someone probably does find it offensive to self-label as a goy. Someone else probably finds it offensive to reject the idea of self-labeling as a goy.

However, by and large, I think most Jews won’t be concerned that you’re appropriating our language and culture if you are using our language to identify yourself as someone who supports our culture. Yiddish isn’t a religious language, but a cultural one. While Judaism is a closed-practice religion, Yiddish is the language of our culture in exile. It is the language we used while existing in a goyische world that was and remains hostile toward Jews.

I think, personally, that if you’re not using our language to demean us, it’s not off limits. Like, call yourself a goy! You are one! It’s not a bad thing! But, like, don’t call Jews you disagree with schmucks or something like that. And, obviously, if someone is antisemitic then I do not want them using Yiddish at all.

If someone wants to condemn our culture, then I loathe the idea of them picking out the parts they can use for their own purposes. If you reject an entire culture, you do not get access to the parts of that culture you like, imho.

So, I guess (in answer to your question) it is personal preference but is also that deep. Jewish culture is old, deep, and complex. I'd never speak for other Jews, and I'm sure plenty disagree with me on this. But I have personally never heard of a Jewish person offended that a goy calls themselves a goy. Personally, I find it endearing.

[hoonhrt]

#15

: pairing — soccer player! jake x reader 

: genre — slight angst, fluff 

: song rec — these days by wallows 

: a/n — i don’t know too much about soccer so apologizing in advance if i mess up some terminology! 

There was a slight orange hue to the sky as the sun had gone down, the fluorescent lights of the field were switched on while you waited for Jake to finish up soccer practice since he promised to walk you home after. 

He made his way towards you with a goofy grin on his face. A duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a towel thrown around his neck to absorb his sweat. You end up meeting him half way into the field. 

You two were the only ones at the field so he grasped your hand in his and begin to walk down the artificial grass. You and Jake were a fairly new couple, none of your friends had known you guys were even friends let alone dating each other. 

“So y’know, the annual soccer game is tomorrow?” Jake speaks in a low tone as you both walk down the sidewalk. You turned your head to him and meet eyes, giving him a nod. “Well...” he trails off his sentence, unaware of how to continue on. You stop walking and patiently wait for him to continue with a soft look on your face that made Jake smile. “I was wondering if you maybe wanted to wear my spare jersey to the game?” 

Its not that you were ashamed of Jake and your relationship, no not at all! You’ve always been portrayed as a quiet, reserved person who maintains the best grades and sticks to themselves You were scared of what others would think of you dating The Jake Sim. one of the most well known kids at your school. Your silence made Jake feel a little bit regretful of asking you. 

“Listen you don’t have to. If you aren’t comfortable or ready yet, its cool, I understand.” His eyes emit slight sadness that you noticed. The silence you started carried on throughout the rest of the walk home. 

by the time you had reached your house, the sun had fully gone down and the moon had replaced it. The awkward tension still lingered as you still had yet to answer. Unaware of how to bid you goodbye, Jake gives you a high five and made his way home. 

You spent that night staring at your ceiling in the dark. It wasn’t a big deal, but you were scared of all the things people would say. They would judge Jake for dating someone like you. They would insult you, tell you that you weren’t good enough for Jake. These thoughts clouded your head. Until, a specific cutie texted your phone. 

From Jakey <3: can’t wait to see you tomorrow at the game! sleep well.

Unconsciously, you smiled at your phone. Picturing the grin on his face while texting you made your heart beat a little faster. You couldn’t say no to him. Not when that pretty little smile of his stays alight, even if he is feeling down.

To Jakey <3: drop off the jersey at my door before you head to school. rest well jake, you’ve got a big day ahead of you <3

You turned off your phone and fell asleep, in the hopes that a certain boy would show up in your dreams that night. 

You had opened your door to leave for school and right there sitting on your door step was his jersey plus a flower. It looked like it was picked out right from the ground but you were still very grateful. Before you left you ran back into the house, leaving the blue and white jersey and flower in your room. 

School had consumed your day while practice had consumed Jake’s which meant that neither of you could meet up before the game. You came home and quickly changed, adrenaline racing around your body in the excitement of getting to see Jake play and being able to support him. 

The school stadium was PACKED. All the bleachers were filled with students from your own school and the other. The cheers of the students rang around the entire stadium, shaking the seats and giving you a slight headache. Your group friends ushering you to their location, shock covering their faces. You had no time to explain as the game was about to start. 

There was about a minute left on the clock. The giant buzzer board flashed the numbers counting down. The two teams were tied. Everyone was on the edge of their seats, you included. The ball moving back and forth between both teams, leaving the people questioning if this would go overtime. The last 30 seconds had arrived and the crowd had gone silent. Scared that any noise would ruin the players momentum. 

The ball had been moving further and further away from your school’s team, until the best midfielder on the team, Jake Sim, swooped in and stole the ball. He starts sprinting across the field whilst managing the ball straight against his feet. He reaches the goal and kicks with the side of his foot with all his strength. As if time had stopped, the ball slowly goes into the opposite direction the goalie had been jumping towards and hits the back of the net with a thud. 

Jake Sim just won the soccer game. 

The crowd starts screaming again just like the beginning of the game. The cheers could possible be heard all the way from the other side of town. You jumped out of your seat, screaming as loud as you could, watching Jake’s team mates tackle him onto the ground. The adrenaline you felt earlier had reached you again and you found yourself running down the bleacher steps towards the field. You start shouting his name. 

“JAKE! JAKE!” of course, he recognized your voice, even if it was from miles away. He watched you get closer and closer to him as you dashed across the field. He squinted his eyes a little just to see your infamous school colours spread across the shirt you were wearing, well rather, his shirt you were wearing. The boy’s smile unknowingly got even wider, reaching his sweet eyes that were filled with love. His arms span out to wrap you in his warmth. 

You grab onto his body and enclose your arms around his neck. He lifts you off the ground and spins you around, giggles erupt from the both of you. The sound of your voice fills Jake’s mind as you began to ramble on about how amazing and cool he looked on the field. Everything around him was drowned out and all he could focus on was your lips that kept on moving and moving. 

It all stopped abruptly when he smashed his lips onto yours. Unsure of how to react at first, you didn’t kiss back. Once you realized that he lips were actually on yours, you gave in. His hands found home on your waist tugging you closer, while the palms of your hands rested against the nape of his neck. Your heads tilted slightly to deepen the kiss. His lips tasting salty and sweet, a flavour you don’t think you could ever get tired of. You pulled away, slightly breathless, foreheads resting against each others. 

Jake looks into your eyes, his shiny smile mirroring yours. 

“Thank you for supporting me today baby. My jersey fits you so well, it almost like you were made to wear mine.” He teases you as you look away, the apples of your cheeks turning a deep shade of pink at the use of the pet name. 

“Anytime #15.” Jake kisses your cheek, letting you rest your head against his heart, that might’ve been beating a little more than it should’ve. 

[xbaepsae]

same old mistakes (m)

“But it wasn’t that you necessarily regretted sleeping with Hoseok. No, you very much enjoyed it—maybe too much—which is why it was wrong. So fucking wrong.”

[rich boy!hoseok x reader]

genre: country club!au, smut, slightly angsty, some fluff

word count: 12.8k

rating: mature

warnings: sex. lots and lots of unprotected sex lmao (please use protection), slight rough sex, some jealousy, rich prick asshole jung hoseok, mentions of alcohol, language, golf terminology (i’m sorry if it’s wrong idk anything about golf LMAO) oblivious mutual pining lol

a/n: omg this fic absolutely consumed me these last few weeks. i haven’t been able to think about anything else, which is why i haven’t been super active lol. so glad i finished this before the upcoming valentine’s holiday and hobi’s birthday <3 loved writing this so much! rich asshole hoseok has my heart. xoxo

You have never felt more flustered in your life.

It’s the summer after your first year of college, and you decided to come home—to spend a little time with your mother and her new husband. Well, more like she begged you to come home. You actually wanted to visit your roommate’s family on the coast, and spend your days at the beach, but your mother insisted that you come home instead.

Now that you are home, she doesn’t even have time to spend with you. She and her husband are too busy vacationing; that should’ve been you. You can’t even bear to look at your roommate’s Instagram account. And worse of all, your mother signed you up for a job you did not consent to.

“You did what?”

Your mother blinked back at you, feigning innocence. “I heard from Mrs. Lee—you know, our neighbor down the street that attends the local country club—and she said that they were hiring for the summer. You know how rich people love their golf and fancy dinners.”

“And you just decided to volunteer me?” You couldn’t believe her. “I don’t want to work at some prissy country club.”

“Weren’t you just complaining about being broke last week?” She really did not need to expose you like that. “This’ll be good for you, honey.”

Thus, you found yourself standing in front of the country club not even a week later. They hadn’t even asked you to do an interview; you just talked to a manager on the phone and she said for you to just come in. Honestly, too suspiciously easy but what could you do about it? Your mother had been right—you did need the money.

When you arrived, you were immediately whisked away into training. There, one of the girls, Soyoung, fitted you into the uniform—a plain white polo and khaki shorts—and told you what you’d be doing here.

“So, there are a lot of different areas here,” she began, “as you can see from how big this country club is. So, you might find yourself working in different areas occasionally…but for now, you’re going to be on the course with the drink cart.”

Soyoung explained that as the drink cart girl, you’d be driving a golf cart around while handing out beer and other drinks to the golfers on the course. It seemed easy enough, except you’d never driven a golf cart before…or tried to sell people something. However, Soyoung assured you it was easy.

But that was about an hour ago. Since then, a lot has happened. You managed to get the golf cart to work, but it is considerably different from an actual car. The forward/backwards switches were tripping you up. Because of that, you already knocked over a display…or two.

Which leads you to your most embarrassing moment.

For some reason, you forgot that being back in your hometown means the possibility of running into people you went to high school with. The thought just didn’t seem to come to mind. Being off at university has made you forget about all of those idiots you used to be around every day. Until now, when you bump into one of them. Literally.

You really hadn’t seen him behind you; then again, you weren’t looking, which was probably not the greatest idea. But you blindly backed up and hit him. Not that you were going fast or anything, but he did cause an outburst.

“Oh my—fuck! Watch where you’re going!”

Horrified, you press onto the breaks. Turning around, an apology begins to fall from your lips. “I am so sorry. It’s my first time—”

“Y/n?”

You freeze at the voice; it sounds awfully familiar. Blinking a few times, your eyes focus on the person in front of you. And your stomach sinks. Standing in front of you is none other than Jung Hoseok—the last person you ever expected to see again.

He must see the recognition fill your eyes because he instantly smirks. “Wow, it really is you. It’s been a while, huh? Haven’t seen you since graduation.”

An awkward laugh passes through your teeth. “Yeah…it really has.”

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” his smirk seems to widen, and his eyes travel down to your clothes. “You work here or something?”

“Yeah…just started today, actually.”

He nods appreciatively. “Nice. Well, I’m here almost every day, so, I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.”

I hope not. “Sure.”

Just as Hoseok opens his mouth to say something else, someone calls his name. He looks away from you, and that’s when you finally allow yourself a moment to look at him. For the first time, you realize how long a year is and how much change can happen in that time frame. Even though it irks you a bit to think about, he looks really good—even in his damn polo and khakis.

You take in the curved slope of his nose, the way his brows are perfectly arched to match his equally perfect eyes. And you’re almost blinded by his pearly white smile. Perhaps, Hoseok has always been attractive—dark, windswept hair and all. You’ve just never wanted to admit it; even after that one—

“Catch you around, y/n,” he suddenly says, and that’s when you realize he’s caught you. He smirks and shoots you a wink as he walks away, leaving you to mentally kick yourself alone.

***

In high school, you and Jung Hoseok were in different crowds. He was preppy and popular—kind of snooty, to be honest—and you were just normal. Not popular, but not a complete wallflower either. Despite not being in the same circles, you both had a few classes together; which meant that you knew each other decently well. At least, you knew enough about Hoseok that you wanted nothing to do with him.

Except for that one, momentarily lapse of judgment, your conscious suddenly reminds you. But you’d rather not think about that right now.

Another thing about Hoseok that you knew of was his background; he came from money—a lot of it, actually. You don’t know exactly what his family does, but they’re those old money types; the kind of rich people that have been rich forever. Which helped to explain his popularity in high school, and how he had a country club membership now.

You wished you knew that before you got the job here.

As you drive around the golf course, feeling more comfortable driving the cart now, you may or may not be on the lookout for Hoseok. Now that you know he’s here, your eyes seem to search for him everywhere. And it’s not because you want to see him; you want to avoid him, if possible.

It’s not until you’re halfway through the course that you see him with a group of other guys, which—to your displeasure—are also people you went to high school with. It’s fitting though, you presume, considering they were all close then as well.

You don’t know anything about golf, but you watch as Hoseok lines up his club to the ball. He swings only once, and the ball flies. You follow where it goes and watch as it hits the grass and rolls right into the hole. His friends cheer for him as he turns around with a smug look on his face. “And that, everyone, is how you fucking do it.”

“Nice, man,” one person—who you recognize as Jeon Jeongguk—says, moving to pat him on the back.

“The motherfucking GOAT,” another—Kim Namjoon—laughs.

“Maybe you should just go pro or something, dude,” the last guy says, and you recognize him as Kim Seokjin. “Because you’ve hit an ace, birdie or eagle at every hole.”

Hoseok laughs at that. “Maybe I’m just lucky today.”

“Dude probably just had good ass last night,” Namjoon smirks. “So, who was it?”

“A gentleman does not kiss and tell, my friend,” Hoseok winks, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at the banter between all of these men. Disgusting. “But if you really want to know…”

“Not you trying to get Hoseok’s sloppy seconds,” Seokjin speaks directly to Namjoon. “Because we all know how that went the first time with—”

“It wasn’t my fault Katie caught feelings,” Hoseok interrupts, walking back towards the rest of his friends. “I told her it was a one-time thing.”

Jeongguk struggles not to laugh as he moves up to line his club and ball. “And then you introduced her to Namjoon.”

“And she used him to get closer to…” Seokjin starts to say, but then he notices you. You’ve never seen someone straighten up so quickly. “How long have you been sitting there?”

“Long enough,” you say as three pairs of eyes turn to look in your direction as well. “Um, drinks?”

“Took you long enough to get here, y/n. I was starting to wonder when you’d arrive,” Hoseok takes a step in your direction, and you watch as the rest of the guys do a double take.

Namjoon is the first to speak, “Ah…y/n. Yes, I remember you…we had chemistry together, right?”

“Oh my gosh, you were in my calculus class!” Jeongguk exclaims, golf club still mid-air.

“I don’t think we had any classes together,” Seokjin says with a pout. “Because if we did, I would’ve remembered you for sure.”

For some reason, you feel your cheeks get hotter. “Um, thanks?”

You can tell they want to say more to you, but Hoseok shoots his friends a look you can’t see, and they close their mouths immediately. Turning back to you, he takes another step close to your golf cart. “A beer for each of us.”

“Aren’t you all underage—”

“No one cares here, y/n,” he cuts you off with a smirk. “Besides, Seokjin’s father owns this country club—we can do whatever the fuck we want.”

Shock passes through you at this news, mouth dropping at the realization that Hoseok and his friends might be more privileged than you originally thought.

“And we don’t usually have to pay for anything, but”—he fishes for something in his pocket— “here.”

You look down at his extended hand, where a crumpled 100-dollar bill sits, and practically gawk at it. Who carries such large bills around so casually? “What—?”

“Keep the change,” he stares you right in the eyes, and you have no other choice but to accept the money.

“Thanks,” you manage to say before reaching around to grab four beers from the cooler.

As each bottle is plucked from your hands, Hoseok is the last person to grab his; and the way his fingers accidentally touch your own seems like no accident at all. Although it was only for a few seconds at most, his touch leaves your skin burning. Burning for what? You don’t know; but it lingers the rest of your shift in a way that is so distracting, you nearly hit someone else with the golf cart.

***

“So let me get this story straight, you saw a guy you fucked for the first time in a year and now you don’t know what to do with yourself. Worst of all, his presence at your new job is going to be the death of you.”

You cringe at your roommates’ words. “God, why do you have to say it like that.”

“I mean, that’s who he is right?” her voice echoes through the screen.

She’s not wrong, but it still doesn’t sit right with you. “When you say it like that, it’s just weird.”

“Y/n, you act like you haven’t fucked other guys before.”

“Yes, but what happened with Jung Hoseok was a mistake,” you breathe. “It was never supposed to happen.”

Her pixilated expression softens upon seeing your clear distress. “I understand, babe. We all do things we regret.”

But it wasn’t that you necessarily regretted sleeping with Hoseok. No, you very much enjoyed it—maybe too much—which is why it was wrong. So fucking wrong. It wasn’t like he coerced you into that bedroom; you willingly followed him inside. And you can’t even blame it on the alcohol because you had been as sober as the day you were born.

It was graduation weekend, and everyone had come out to celebrate. You really didn’t want to go, but some of your friends forced you. Just enjoy the time we still have together, y/n, they had said. Ironic, because you no longer spoke to any of them.

Around the fire, behind the massive patio of someone’s house, drinks were poured and passed around. Even though you held a red solo cup in your hand, the murky liquid didn’t draw you in; you hated the way alcohol tasted back then. Still kind of do. But you simply pretended like you were enjoying yourself.

Every single part of you wanted to leave early that night, but you didn’t. You ended up staying because of Hoseok. It was something about the way he carried himself at that bonfire that night. Before, you never saw him as anything more than a spoiled brat; however, the flames of the fire seemed to soften him before your eyes. Because before you knew it, Hoseok pulled you away from the stares of everyone else.

You don’t even remember what happened—what you two talked about or didn’t talk about. But something happened before he kissed you. Unfortunately, it’s all a blur now.

After swelling your lips with, what seemed like, a thousand kisses, he told you he wanted more; and you told him yes. The memory of him rushing with you through the house and into a vacant room still burns hotly in your mind. You had been giddy with nerves and excitement as he pushed you against the closed door, sucking the air from your lungs.

Hoseok ripped your clothes off with practiced hands, clearly experienced with this, and made you come undone more times than you can recall. Throughout this whole exchange, not much was said; but no words were needed when he could read your body so well.

The both of you ended up falling asleep like that—tangled in each other’s arms. And when you woke up a few hours later to the rising sun, horror filled your veins like a shock of ice.

You left without saying anything. Not that you think he would’ve cared either way. Jung Hoseok seemed like he would be used to stuff like that.

You just never thought you’d see him again one year later.

But here he is.

***

During your next few weeks at the country club, you try your best to avoid Hoseok.

This, however, proves difficult to do since you can hear his laughter echoing everywhere. From the hallways to the range, you can’t seem to escape him at all. And it doesn’t help that his friends all seem to be around too.

Every time you catch even the smallest glimpse of him, you turn in the opposite direction. You aren’t sure if he can tell that you’re avoiding him or not, but you don’t care—you just want to get this summer over with already.

“Y/n!”

Turing in the direction your name is being called, you see Soyoung walking towards you. You offer her a tight smile, hoping she isn’t here to tell you that you’re in trouble or something. “Soyoung. What’s up?”

“Do you mind helping me clean up a little by the pool? I know you just got done on the range, but a girl called out and I could really use the help.” She gives you this sad puppy look, which means you can’t refuse her offer. So, begrudgingly, you follow her back outside.

In the hot summer sun, the large crystal blue pool looks like temptation. Soyoung notices your face and laughs. At her laughter, you realize you’ve never seen the pool this close. You pass by the canopy lined pool lounge every day, but you’re not a maid here or on lifeguard duty so you’ve never had a reason to linger very long.

“Looks inviting, huh?”

All you can do is hum in agreement as you begin helping Soyoung pick up disserted pool towels and throwing them into the hamper. As you’re bending down to retrieve a particularly wet towel on the concrete, the hot sun beating down your back is suddenly gone. You look up and notice there’s a shadow blocking the sun—a suspiciously familiar shadow.

Immediately, your back straightens, and you turn around to face a shirtless Hoseok. His hair is wet from the pool, which means beads of water are cascading down his chest. You try not to stare, but he’s literally so close; there’s nowhere else to look. Your eyes follow the towel in his hand as he begins to dry himself up, going from his abdomen before they travel down to the dark trail of hair that leads to—

You freeze and force your eyes back up, but the smile on his face tells you that you got caught—again.

“Like what you see?” His smile seems to grow wider at your expression.

You scowl. “In your dreams, Jung Hoseok.”

He leans down, face inches from yours, whispering, “If I remember correctly, that dream already came true…one year ago.”

Before you can say anything, he stands back up to his full height and brushes past you—his naked skin burning holes through your clothes. Once he’s a few steps away from you, you realize his friends were also there the whole time. Embarrassment burns your cheeks at what they might’ve thought, but their expressions remain too ambiguous for you to read as they follow their friend.

“I didn’t know you knew Hoseok.”

Your head whips towards Soyoung. “I don’t…I mean, not really. We just went to high school together.”

But your coworker doesn’t seem to buy it. “Really? I’ve been working here for a few summers and those guys have always been around, especially because Seokjin’s dad is the owner. I’ve tried to make small talk with them a few times, but they’re pretty intimidating.”

“They’re pricks,” you tell her. “Typical entitled rich boys.”

“I suppose so,” she hums, throwing the last towel into the bin. “Anyway, can I ask for another favor?”

All you can do is nod. “What?”

“I have another thing I have to do,” Soyoung starts, making you realize she works pretty hard here, “so, can you put these towels in the laundry room? You don’t have to start a load or anything; just leave them and one of the maids will wash them later.”

She slips the laundry room key into your pocket, telling you to give it back to her later, as she rushes off to her next task. Which leaves you to find the laundry room by yourself. After nearly ten minutes of searching, you find it tucked in a small hallway.

Opening the door, you push the dirty towel hamper into the room. You look around and see multiple washers, dryers, and a lot of storage shelves filled with miscellaneous items. You’re so caught up in looking around the room that you almost don’t hear the door close. At the sound of the lock clicking into place, you turn around; immediately, your heart starts beating faster.

“What are you doing in here?”

Hoseok leans against the door, no longer shirtless like before, and smirks at you. “I was following you.”

Like that’s not weird at all. “Stalker much?”

“Just wanted to know why you’ve been avoiding me, that’s all,” he pushes off the door, taking a step closer. You unconsciously take a step back, hitting the hamper.

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” you lie.

He just blinks at you. “You’re a bad liar, you know that?”

You’re shocked that he can read you so well. “Okay, so what if I am avoiding you? It’s not like you should care. Just leave me alone.”

For a brief moment, something passes over his eyes; but the emotion’s gone before you can think about it. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“What?” Now, it was your turn to blink rapidly.

Hoseok takes another step towards you, severing whatever distance there had been before. His arms move to cage you between himself and the dirty hamper. Slowly, he leans down, making sure not to move his eyes away from yours. “I can’t just leave you alone—not when you’re the only thing on my mind.”

“What are you trying to say—” his hand wrapping around your jaw shuts you up.

“To put it simply, I can’t stop thinking about you—about that night after graduation,” he says, eyes swirling with a darkness you know all too well.

“But that was a year ago,” you manage to say through clenched teeth, and he loosens his grip on you.

His signature smirk lights his lips. “So?”

“I was drunk,” you lie again. “I don’t even remember what happened.”

“So, you’re telling me you don’t remember this?” One hand curves around your hip. “Or this?” Another wraps around your waist. “Or this?” He plants his lips onto your jaw.

You release a harsh breath as the memories of that night come flooding back. Heat begins to pool in your stomach from his touch. As he peppers kisses along your jaw and down your neck, your hands move to fist his shirt. Just as a moan threatens to leave your throat, he pulls away.

Your lips part in indignation at the loss of touch, and Hoseok just smirks even wider. “I thought you said you don’t remember?”

“I’m going to kill you, Jung Hoseok,” your frustration is through the roof.

“Tell me you remember.”

Right now, there are two sides of you fighting. There’s one part of you that wants to tell Hoseok you don’t remember a single thing—that you really had been drinking graduation night. But there’s an even larger part of you that wants him so bad—to feel the same high you felt a year ago.

So, you settle with, “But I’m working right now.”

Hoseok’s eyes turn obsidian as his smirk drops. “I’ll be quick.”

He pulls you away from the hamper and pushes you, stomach first, against one of the washers. Suddenly, you realize what’s about to happen and you try to force the dopey smile off your face by biting your lip. In one swift motion, he unbuttons and pulls both your shorts and panties down to your ankles. By the sudden coolness below, you already know you’re soaking.

And Hoseok must realize this too because you feel him swipe a long finger over your folds. You instinctively jerk back, letting out a moan at the slight pressure. “Hoseok—”

“Fuck, y/n, you’re so wet for me already,” he groans, using a second finger against your wetness. He slowly rubs your clit and you can’t help but tighten your grip against the cool machine. “Wonder if you’ve been wet since we saw each other earlier.”

You roll your eyes. Typical, cocky Jung Hoseok. “Of course not, you douchebag.”

“I beg to differ,” he hums, inserting a single digit inside of you. “So tight—just like I remembered. Tell me, y/n, has anyone else had the pleasure to fuck your pretty pussy after me?”

His words cause you tense for a moment, before replying, “Yes, asshole. I went to college. What do you think?”

“I’m thinking that I’m about to fuck you so good,” he starts and finishes with a whisper, “that you won’t remember any of them.”

If you weren’t already turned on before, you were now. Hoseok continues to fuck with his finger, slowly adding a second one, edging you until you’re a panting mess before him. “S-Stop teasing—I thought you said you were going to be quick?”

“I will be,” he promises, and you can hear him pushing the waistband of his swim trunks down. You’re dying to see his cock again, so you turn and nearly drool at the sight of his angry red tip. For some reason, he looks bigger than you remember and that worries you a little. “What? Think it won’t fit?”

You raise your eyes to look at his, and he has the sexiest expression on his face you’ve ever seen. “No. It fit before, right?”

He licks his lips as he brings his cock close to your entrance, brushing his head back and forth against your clit. You turn back around, arching your back more in hopes that he’ll finally just stick it inside already. But before you can get too lost in the moment, you gasp.

“What’s wrong?” He actually sounds concerned.

“Do you have a condom?” you ask, facing him again. And by the pained expression on his face, he doesn’t. You let out a frustrated groan at getting all worked up for nothing. You’re about to reach down for your panties when he pushes you back into place. “What?”

“Are you on the pill?”

“Yes,” you answer, “but the pill is only—”

“I’ll pull out,” he says. “And I’m clean, I swear.”

You look into his eyes and seeing the desperation in them makes you want to indulge him. “I’m clean too.”

Hoseok breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank fucking god.”

“You better pull out, or I swear Jung—”

You fail to get the rest of your words out because he slams his cock into you. And you’re right—he is bigger than you remember. He bottoms out at your cervix and you feel like a mess already. You both moan at the feeling of being connected like this again, after so long, and Hoseok keeps his promise and wastes no time.

He thrusts into you hard and fast, leaving you to do nothing but take everything he has to give. “Fuck, Hoseok—oh my god.”

Earlier, he talked about fucking your past sexual exploits out of you, but there was no need to mention anything at all; no one compares to him. They never had a chance.

“Shit, you feel so good wrapped around me,” he groans, digging his fingers into your hips.

And soon enough, you feel your orgasm approaching. It’s slow building, but it’s there and you want it. You figure you’ll just chase it yourself. Reaching a hand down, you find your clit and begin rubbing it. But just as soon as you feel yourself get closer to the high you desire, your hand is ripped away.

There is a sudden weight on your back as Hoseok whispers in your ear, “That’s my job, sweetheart.”

His fingers find your sensitive nub and you come immediately, screaming a string of curses into your arms in hopes that no one hears you. As you ride your high, you feel him pull out. With a groan, his cum spills all over your ass.

As you try to catch your breath and calm your erratic heart, you feel Hoseok pull his shorts back up and take a step back. All of the sudden, a strange feeling builds up in your chest. Is this what loss feels like? But you don’t have much time to dwell on your own thoughts because you feel a towel wiping your body.

You turn and see Hoseok cleaning the mess he made; but instead of looking down, he’s looking right at you.

“What?” you ask, sounding defensive.

“Nothing,” he says, and you hate that you can’t read people well. You wish you could know what he’s thinking right now.

After he cleans between your thighs, you pull your clothes back up your body. You still have a few hours left of your shift, so you hope you don’t look too much like a mess right now. Pulling your hair into a low ponytail, you feel awkwardness hit you like a truck. What are you supposed to say now?

“Uh…I have to go,” you can’t even look at him. “We have a meeting this afternoon…”

You don’t have a meeting, but you don’t know what else to say. But unlike you, Hoseok can take a hint and nods. “I’ll leave first…see you around…and thanks.”

He stares at you for a moment longer before leaving the room. You look out to make sure he’s a considerable distance away before you follow, ducking into the bathroom to check your appearance. Once you look into the mirror, you barely recognize the person you’re seeing.

The girl in front of you has flushed cheeks and sweaty hair.

You spend the rest of your shift daydreaming about what happened. In all honesty, your body aches in the best possible way. And even after your shift, once you get home and lay in your bed, you’re still thinking about everything.

Did you really willingly have sex with Jung Hoseok a second time? Once is a mistake, twice clearly means there was choice involved. What would your roomie say if she knew? You don’t plan on telling her—at least, not until you get back to school. If she knew you had succumbed to his charms this early in the summer, she’d chew you out for sure. Besides, you won’t let it happen again.

There will be no more slip ups this summer.

***

“Oh, fuck—yes. Right there…!”

You cling to the shelf as Hoseok fucks you from behind. Your legs feel impossibly weak from being in such an uncomfortable position, but you couldn’t care less right now—you just want to come.

“Don’t be so loud, sweetheart,” he groans through clenched teeth. “Don’t want to get caught now, do we?”

“N-No…but if you d-don’t make me c-come quicker, Hoseok…” you moan, and he proceeds to thrust faster. You don’t want to scream, but it just feels so fucking good for you not to. “I’m going to—”

Hoseok clamps a hand over your mouth as you come undone. Your eyes shut on their own accord as you scream into his hand, body shaking from the impact of your orgasm. He curses, probably from how tight you’re gripping his cock, but continues to thrust a few more times before pulling out and painting you in strings of milky white.

Once your body shops shaking, he pulls you up and presses a kiss onto your exposed shoulder. “You’re amazing.”

You can’t help but smile a little. “Thanks.”

The two of you quickly clean up and readjust your clothes. You’re supposed to be organizing after all—at the place you are working at for the summer—not fucking an old high school classmate. Hoseok leaves with a promise of finding you later, and you’re left alone with your thoughts again.

What just happened?

You really did mean it when you said that you didn’t want to have sex with Hoseok again, but here you are anyway. It’s already been a month since the first incident, and you’ve been sneaking quickies around the entire country club with Hoseok.

Every time you think you’re alone, he manages to find you and that infuriating smirk makes you helpless. You’ve lost track of how many times he’s already managed to make your panties drop. But even though he seeks you out for sex, every now and then he sticks around to have a conversation with you.

You feel your resolve crumbling away every time you get a glimpse of the human Hoseok.

“So, what are you studying in school?” he asked one day, settling beside you on the floor of the laundry room.

“Is it bad that I’m undecided?” You tried to laugh it off, but the sober expression on his face stopped you.

He shook his head. “No, you have time.”

And just like, all felt okay in the world.

“What about you?” you managed to ask.

The scrunch of his nose had been nearly undetectable, but you noticed it. “Business. My father wants me to take over the company one day.”

“And you don’t?” the question slipped past your lips without a second thought. You’d been horrified.

“I don’t mind business, but I don’t want my father’s. I’d rather start my own.”

This truth had been rather insightful, and you couldn’t help but change the way you looked at Hoseok—only a little though. You still thought he was an asshole.

After another moment pondering your idiocy, you go back to whatever you were doing before. Just as you place the last shampoo bottle on the rack, a knock sounds on the door. You jump, wondering if it’s Hoseok again; but when it opens, it’s just Soyoung. “Hey—you’ve been in here for a while. Almost done?”

If only she knew.

“Uh, yeah. Actually, just finished,” you try to smile. “Got a little distracted in here, I guess.” A little more than distracted.

Soyoung offers an understanding expression. “Feel that. These storage rooms can be a bit overwhelming.”

“Did you need something?” you ask, changing the conversation.

“I actually bring word from our manager. You don’t work tomorrow night, right?” Tomorrow is Saturday and one of the few days you actually have off this week. You’re dreading what Soyoung is about to tell you. “She asked if you could come in for a few hours—just to help with dinner. They’re expecting a big crowd tomorrow night since there’s a fundraiser happening during the day. It’ll be like three hours max.”

You think about it for a moment, rolling your lips between your teeth. Honestly, you don’t want to come in on your day off—who wants to work when they don’t have to—but three hours doesn’t sound so bad.

“Just three hours?”

Soyoung nods. “Just three hours. I’ll be helping with the dinner too, so we’ll get to work together. And afterwards, we can go to a party, if you want.”

That piques your interest, even though you aren’t one to go out often. “What party?”

“There’s a few houses on this property—they’re rented out to people who want to stay at the country club for an extended amount of time. And I heard from some of the other employees that a party is being hosted at one of the houses. Anyone and everyone is invited—even us.”

For some reason, you actually want to go to this party. Why? Maybe you just want to forget about Jung Hoseok’s charismatic smirk. A party should be a good distraction. So, you tell Soyoung that you’ll come work tomorrow and attend the party with her.

And the girl gives you hug, promising that it’ll be loads of fun.

You hope she’s right.

***

The next night, you arrive to work in a different version of your uniform. Instead of the usual polo and shorts the country club has you normally donned in, you’re wearing a long sleeve button up and black slacks. In your bag, you brought a change of clothes for later. Thankfully, you remembered to grab it on your way out. Imagine having to wear your server uniform to a party.

That would’ve been a social suicide.

You meet up with Soyoung for a few minutes before the dinner staff collects you all together. They debrief about tonight’s expectations and everyone’s roles. Next, they list all the jobs and when they call your name, you find out you’re going to be taking orders.

“Do I also need to bring the food out?” you ask.

One of the leaders shakes their head. “No, we’ll have people specifically there for that.”

After all the roles are established, dinner officially begins and you try not to look dumbstruck when you walk into the formal dining hall. This is the first time you’ve been in this room and it’s absolutely magnificent. You continue staring around for a moment before walking towards your section of the room—a row of tables by the window overlooking the setting sun.

You proceed taking orders from the first table—a family of four—and then the next—a group of six—before walking to a table that only seats two people. Probably a date. You barely look at the couple as you push a strand of loose hair behind your ear and pull out the notepad.

“Can I take your orders?” you ask, click your pen.

“Yes,” says a nasally voice to your right. You follow it, meeting the profile of a gorgeous girl. Long, silky hair drapes down her back in waterfalls and she’s wearing a tight pink dress. You think that she’ll turn her attention to you, but she doesn’t; she keeps staring at her date. “I’ll have the ratatouille. What about you, Hobi?”

Hobi? “I told you not to call me that, Nina.”

She pouts. “But you let me call you that when we were kids.”

“Yeah, we were kids then.”

You spare a look at Nina’s date and nearly falter when you realize who this Hobi is. It’s none other than Jung Hoseok himself. He’s wearing a fitted charcoal suit, hair slicked back slightly. Even from this view, you can tell his suit is expensive; definitely imported and tailored fitted to his body. Still, you can feel yourself salivating. The man looks like absolute sin, and you feel a sudden flash of jealousy because he’s on a date with someone else—someone he seems to know pretty well.

But you realize you have no right to feel that emotion at all. He’s not yours to have. You both just happen to be sexually compatible. That is all. You two never talked about being exclusive. He is allowed to see other girls, even though the thought makes you feel a little sick.

Hoseok brings his eyes to yours, flashing you a smirk that has your knees weak. “Y/n.”

“You two know each other?” Nina asks, but your eyes don’t move from his.

“A little,” he says. That’s an understatement.

“We just went to high school together,” you add, playing along with his little game. “We weren’t friends though, just happened to be in a few classes together.”

Hoseok feigns hurt, bringing a hand up to his chest. “Can’t believe you think so little of me.”

“Oh, Hobi,” Nina interjects, her hand finding his on top of the table. You zone in on the touch, blood pressure rising when you realize he hasn’t pushed her away.

You try not to roll your eyes. “Yes, poor Hobi.”

When you turn back to him, he’s already looking at you. You stiffen for a second, wondering if his eyes have been on you this whole time. And by the scathing sensation you feel on the side of your head—Nina’s eyes, no doubt—you realize he probably has. “Um. Anyway, what did you want?”

He smirks again. “I’ll have the same, y/n.”

You quickly jot it down and excuse yourself before you start thinking too much.

The rest of your short shift, you make sure not to walk by Hoseok’s table again. Whenever you’re around him, you can’t think properly. He always seems to cloud your best judgment, which is why you’ve already been fucking him this summer. You allow work to consume you, which makes the time fly by. Before you know it, the three hours is already up and you’re headed to the bathroom with Soyoung.

“See? Wasn’t that bad, huh?” she asks from the cubicle beside you.

It was terrible. “Could’ve been worse, I guess.”

“I’m so excited about the party,” Soyoung changes the conversation. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a night out.”

You can’t help the next words that bubble out of you. “Why do you overwork yourself?”

Honestly, you didn’t mean to ask. After all, it isn’t your business to ask such questions anyway. Sure, you were curious about Soyoung but it’s not your place. You’ve been really testing boundaries recently.

“It just kind of happens,” she answers, which shocks you. Not the answer itself, but the fact that she even answered you at all. “I’ve been working here for so long, I guess I just can’t help it.”

“Well,” you sigh, “don’t overwork yourself. Live a little, you know.”

Soyoung laughs. “I’ll try.”

You step out of the stall first, moving to stand in front of the full-length mirror. Tonight, you opted for a flowy crop top and tight skirt. Not something you’d usually wear, but tonight’s different than most nights—you want to enjoy yourself. You pull your hair out of its tight pony, humming in pleasure at the sensation of your hair being free.

“Okay, I see you with the sexy hair.”

You didn’t even hear Soyoung’s stall unlocking or opening. Turning in her direction, you see she’s wearing something similar to you. Only, both her top and skirt are flowy. “More like messy hair.”

She laughs. “It looks good still.”

After running a hand through your hair a few times, and fixing your makeup, the two of you throw your bags into your respective vehicles and walk across the country club’s property. Not even five minutes later, you can hear music playing. Across the distance, you can see a massive house—no, villa—lit up with lights and people all over the place.

“Woah,” you breathe.

“Right?” Soyoung chuckles. “I told you this party was going to be it.”

“I thought you said it was going to be a house party.”

“It is?” She seems confused.

You shake your head. “Are all the houses on the country club property this big?”

Even in the dim lighting, you can see her nod. “I think so. Maybe not this big, but they’re all large enough to house multiple people.”

Damn. You wonder who’s renting this place for the summer. It’s huge, so there must be more than one person; maybe a family? Though, that seems odd since a party filled with young people is happening right now. However, you can’t even begin to fathom how much it costs to rent. How can anyone actually afford that?

But all thoughts of money fade when you actually reach the villa. You assume there’s mainly college-aged people here, though it’s difficult to tell age these days. Soyoung leads the way as you two maneuver past groups of people and into the villa itself. Once inside, you have to force yourself not to gawk at everything.

Grand doesn’t even begin to describe the interior. There’s so much to look at and before you can even begin to look at everything, Soyoung pulls you away. She finds the kitchen and hands you a drink from the cooler. You remove the lid and begin sipping, tasting the slight bitterness of alcohol on your tongue.

“So what do we do now?” You’re acting like such a noob.

Soyoung slants a look at you. “We mingle, maybe dance a little. Do you like dancing?”

You bite the inside of your lip. “Umm, kind of?”

Of course, you’ve been to your fair share of college parties—where dancing and drinking do not mix well. But you don’t mind it; you just don’t think you’re very good. You voice this thought out loud and Soyoung rolls her eyes.

“You don’t have to be good at dancing. You just have to do it. Usually, it comes naturally.”

You aren’t too sure about that statement. But as Soyoung pulls you in a new direction, away from the kitchen, you realize that you have no choice. In another large room adjacent to the kitchen, someone has started a makeshift dancefloor. The bass is booming against the wall and strobe lights illuminate the room.

Even though you’re struggling, Soyoung pulls you both into the middle of the room and spins you around to the music. “I can’t.”

“Sure you can,” she shouts over the music, proceeding to move her body dramatically. You can’t help but laugh. Shaking your head, you realize dancing really isn’t a big deal and you allow Soyoung to move you to the beat. And eventually, you can do it by yourself.

You close your eyes as you sway to the music, occasionally bumping into Soyoung on purpose. It even gets to the point where you feel comfortable enough to lift your arms into the air, which is something you’d never thought you’d do.

It’s not until a few songs later that you finally open your eyes. And when you do, you immediately meet his gaze.

A jolt of electricity goes up your spine at the look Jung Hoseok is giving you right now. He’s leaning against the fireplace in the room across from you, changed out of that expensive suit he was wearing earlier. Now, he’s only wearing the white button up—sleeves rolled to his elbows—and a pair of navy-blue shorts. In his hand he nurses a beer, and that’s when you realize he’s still with that girl from earlier.

You try to keep your expression neutral as you stare at them; but by the way Hoseok’s hard gaze morphs into something smugger, you know you’re doing a bad job at concealing your feelings.

Dammit.

You quickly whisper something to Soyoung about needing some air as you look for the nearest exit. Unfortunately, you don’t know your way around the house. You meander around for a moment before you find a door that leads to the backyard. Breathing a sigh of relief, you open the door and walk into the cool summer night.

There’s a pathway of rocks that leads to the dock of a body of water—a body of water that you didn’t even know existed. You aren’t sure what to call it; a large pond? Whatever it is, you take the pathway until you reach the end of the dock. There, you settle on the edge and stare at the murky depths.

Bodies of water like this were unpredictable. You had no idea how deep it actually was. It could seem shallow, but in actuality be sixty feet deep. For a second, you consider dipping your toes in; however, you decide against it. Who knows what’s in there?

You allow the echoes of cicadas and other small insects to fill your senses. Eventually, you even lay down on the dock and close your eyes, trying not to think too much about—

“What are you doing?”

Your eyes flash open. And as they adjust to the night, you make out Hoseok’s infuriating perfect face. He’s leaning over you, and it pisses you off that he looks good even from this obscene angle. “Go away.”

“Well, aren’t you grumpy,” he hums. “It seemed like you were having a great time shaking you’re a—”

“Hoseok,” you breathe. “Leave me alone. I don’t want to play your stupid games right now.”

He cracks a rare half-smile. “Who said anything about playing games?”

When you don’t answer him, Hoseok’s smile falls and he frowns. You don’t care what else he has to say; you really meant it when you said you’re not in the mood for him right now. However, the boy doesn’t seem to take the hint like he usually does. Because he settles right beside you on the dock, laying down so he’s now eye-level with you.

“You’re insufferable,” you roll your eyes, shifting away from him.

“That’s what you like about me.”

“Who said I liked you?”

“I think your actions speak louder than you think,” he says, sounding awfully calm right now, which is very unlike him. You have no other choice but to look at him. And when you do, your breath gets caught in your throat. Even in the darkness, his eyes seem to sparkle as he looks at you—so fucking intently like he’s seeing you for the first time.

You don’t like it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you force your eyes away, but his stare burns your skin anyway.

“You were jealous at dinner, weren’t you?”

The scoff that leaves your lips sounds beyond bitter. “No, of course not. Why would I be?”

“If you were jealous,” Hoseok begins, which makes your stomach churn, “don’t be.”

“Huh?” you ask, still not able to look at him.

“Don’t be,” he repeats. “Don’t be jealous of Nina.”

“I wasn’t jealous of—”

He cuts you off. “Don’t be jealous of her. She’s just a family friend.”

“But you two seem so close…”

Hoseok laughs. “I just entertain her because our parents have been friends forever. I’m pretty sure they want me to marry someone like her. I mean, she’s hot”—you suck in a breath— “but she’s not you.”

Your eyes finally give him and meet his, and he’s still staring at you. “What’s that supposed to mean.”

As you both look at each other, you expect him to say something. But he never does. Instead, he scoots a few inches closer to you—so close your noses are almost touching—and runs his fingers through your hair. Weaving his digits through your still messy hair, he pulls your head towards his and your lips meet.

And underneath the moonlight, you allow Hoseok to kiss you until your head is dizzy and you have no choice but to let him consume you again.

***

The next morning, you find yourself wrapped in pristine white sheets that feel like silk beneath your fingers. But that’s not the only thing you’re wrapped in. A heavy arm is slumped over your waist and the body heat emanating from him sets yourself ablaze.

Last night, after Hoseok bruised your mouth and skin with his lips at the dock, you asked him why he was at the party.

“This is my house,” he said so casually, like it wasn’t a big deal at all. Your eyes bulged out of their sockets. “Well, my house for the summer at least.”

“You’ve been here this whole time?”

He nodded. “Our actual house is in the city, and I hate driving back and forth so much—especially since I’m here with the guys nearly every day. So, my parents decided to rent this.”

You didn’t know what to say. But you realized there was nothing that needed to be said because since this is where he was staying, it meant his bedroom was here too. You let him walk you back to the villa and up the stairs into his room, to which you had to text Soyoung and let her know you were headed home early. A lie. You told her you felt sick. Another lie. But she didn’t seem to mind. She had found a few other employees of the country club there and would walk back with them.

After losing track of how many orgasms he gave you, youth both shared a bottle of vodka he had stashed underneath his bed. And tipsy you had no inhibitions.

Every question Hoseok asked, you answered honestly.

“Favorite color?”

“Red.”

“Do you like working at the country club?”

“It’s a job.”

“If you could do anything in the world, what would it be?”

“Spend my life away on some island.”

He laughed. “Really?”

“Island life s-seems fun. It’s relaxing. You don’t have to worry about anything,” you slightly slurred your words. “You?”

“I think island life seems to be the move now.”

You both talked so much. About anything and everything. It reminded you so much of the first time you really spoke to him. Moments like this made Hoseok feel normal, which you don’t know how to feel about yet.

But one thing you realized you did enjoy was his laugh—his real laugh. Not the one he smirked with, but the one he gave when he thought no one else was watching.

You must’ve said something stupid—you honestly can’t recall it now—but when he doubled over in laughter, it was infectious.

The good thing is that you don’t have work today, which means you don’t have to rush anywhere. But you have a feeling that you’ve overstayed your welcome. You didn’t even mean to stay the night, but you’d been so comfortable in Hoseok’s bed that you fell asleep after all the conversations. It was probably the best sleep you’ve ever had.

You’re going to give the credit to Hoseok’s expensive mattress, and definitely not him.

Though, you can’t deny how good it feels to have him spooning you. A part of you wants to stay in this bed forever, but that’s crazy talk—you shouldn’t have come into the bed with him at all. You keep telling yourself—over and over again—that you don’t want to fuck him again.

But you’ve been such a liar.

Now, you’ve accepted the fact that you can’t resist him. You know it’s just sex, but you didn’t want to get involved with him in the first place.

You take in a few breaths as you try to move his arm off of you. Hoseok shifts a little, and you risk a look over your shoulder. When your eyes take in his face, your heart stutters for a moment. With his mouth slightly parted and eyes still firmly closed, you realize that he looks so peaceful asleep. So vulnerable. You have to force yourself from touching him.

What the fuck, y/n?

Turning back around, you gently pry his arm off of you and pray that you don’t wake him. But all your careful maneuvering proves to be futile because his arm releases from your grip and moves back down to your waist. With a squeal, Hoseok pulls you back on his chest.

“Where do you think you’re going?” God, his morning voice is so hot.

“Um, leaving?” you sound like an idiot.

“Stay,” he breathes against the back of your head.

You want to. You really, really want to. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” he asks, snaking his arms underneath the covers to find you—skin still bare from last night’s activities. Your breath hitches as his fingers trail across your skin, each touch feeling like sparks.

“I-I have somewhere I have to be,” you stutter as his rough hand wraps around one of your breasts, squeezing tight. Your nipple hardens immediately.

Hoseok slips the covers off your body, exposing you to the cool air-conditioned room. And without warning, he moves on top of you and begins trailing his lips over your body. You notice that he makes sure to suck those bruises he left scattered across your skin extra hard, purpling them even more.

“Hoseok,” you try not to moan. “I really have t-to—”

His lips crashing onto yours shuts you up. You kiss him back forcefully, nipping his lips with your teeth and running your tongue across his. As you two battle it out, he settles in-between your thighs. Bringing a hand down your abdomen, it slides straight to your cunt—which is already drenched.

He hisses against your lips. “So fucking wet. Thought you had to go?”

“Shut up,” you moan as he runs a finger from your ass to your clit, swirling your juices everywhere. Involuntarily, your hips buck up when he slides a finger inside of you. He gently fucks you like that for a moment, leaving you writhing underneath him. “More, Hoseok—I need more.”

A wicked smile erupts on his face. “Are you going to beg for it?”

An incredulous expression lights your face. You’ve never begged in bed before, and you aren’t going to start now. However, the man on top of you is sure getting a kick out of this. Hoseok moves his finger slowly out of you, which agitates you to no end. If you weren’t so horny right now, you’d kill him.

“No,” you narrow your eyes, not willing to give in.

His finger stops moving. “A shame, really.”

You freeze. “What the fuck, Jung Hoseok?”

“I’m not doing anything until you say please,” he smirks, moving his upper body away from you.

Even though you’re pissed, you can’t help but drink in the Adonis in front of you. Like you, Hoseok is completely naked. Your eyes rake his defined muscles and his thick cock that’s already unbelievably hard. He’s hard for you. The fact that you turn him on makes you feel good—too good.

“Fine,” you shrug, and his smirk falls. “Just get blue balls then.”

As his body goes slack for a moment, you use the opportunity to slip from the bed. But you don’t manage to get very far at all. You probably only take three steps before his arm wraps around you and pulls you back to the bed.

You fall on your back, and Hoseok pins your arms on either side to keep you from moving. Still, you squirm—heart drumming in your chest at the look on his face. His eyes have turned black, and he looks like he wants to devour you. “I’m not begging.”

“We’ll see about that.”

With your arms still pinned, Hoseok lowers his body and your legs spread on their own accord. Fuck you, body. The movement makes him chuckle darkly and he begins peppering kisses along your thigh. Your breath hitches in your throat, which turns into a gasp when he suddenly bites down on your flesh. Not hard enough to draw blood, but it’s enough to be painful.

And as much as you hate to admit it, you like it very much.

Hoseok continues alternating between kissing and biting your thighs until you’re one-hundred-percent positive there is a pool of your wetness on the bed. You know what he’s trying to do and it’s working, but you don’t want to give in. And then he’s so close to your pussy, not even an inch away. You can feel his breath fanning you there. If you just move your hips a little…

“Don’t even think about it,” he moves his head away.

You release a groan of frustration. “Oh my god.”

“If you just say the magic word,” he taunts, lips now on your stomach. He moves low, but never low enough; never where you want him to go.

When he moves up your body, pressing chaste kisses on your nipples before latching his lips on your neck, you release a breathy moan. Hoseok lets out a groan from the back of his throat, hands tightening around your wrists. Fuck, why are the noises he makes even attractive? “Hoseok…”

“Y/n,” he’s still sucking on your neck.

This position, you realize, aligns him perfectly with your body. Again, if you were able to move just a little bit…but Hoseok’s weighing you down with his body, not allowing you to move at all.

“Hoseok,” you say his name again, but he doesn’t respond—he just moves his lips to your ear, nibbling on the sensitive flesh there. And that’s when you crumble. You can’t take it anymore. “Please…please just fuck me already.”

Simultaneously, he curses into your ear as he slides his cock into you. Too perfect—the way he fills you up is too perfect.

You expect Hoseok to fuck you hard, hips slamming into you, but he doesn’t. His thrusts are slow, but the way he hits your cervix has you nearly in tears. Fuck. He releases the hold on your wrists to grip onto either side of your face. With lips ghosting over yours, you tangle your hands into his dark hair.

Your breaths mesh together as he continues to fuck you with slow, measured thrusts. You’ve grown accustomed to the rough way Hoseok likes to fuck; but for some reason, you love this so much more. It’s intimate and makes your chest tighten in a strange way but feels so good you don’t want it to stop.

“Please,” you whisper against his lips again.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groans, rolling his hips in a way that has you arching off the bed. Yes.

“Just like t-that,” you say, slanting your mouth to mold against his again.

Your orgasm comes without warning; you moan into Hoseok’s mouth, gripping him closer to you and you ride your high. Through the haze of your earth-shattering orgasm, you hear Hoseok ask if he can come inside you. He’s always pulled out—even last night when he fucked you for hours. But right now you don’t care, and your answer comes in the form of your legs wrapping around his hips.

He kisses you hard and comes inside you a moment later. You’ve never let anyone else come raw inside of you; never trusted anyone else that much. And in that moment, a terrifying thought flashes across your mind.

I’m in love you.

The thought comes so suddenly, burns your brain so hotly, your body stills. Hoseok finally lifts off of you, eyes crinkling in concern. “You okay?”

You quickly try to shake the feeling away. “Um, yeah.”

“You sure? Should I not have come inside you?” he slips out of you, and for some reason you want to cry at the sudden emptiness you feel. “You’re looking pale right now.”

“No, it was fine,” you blink too fast, feeling tears begin to well in your eyes. Get a fucking grip on yourself. “I’m sorry, I really have to go.”

Hoseok doesn’t try to stop you this time when you move away from the bed. You find your clothes on the floor and slip everything back on without looking at him, even though you can feel his gaze on you the entire time. Not bothering to check your appearance, you grab your stuff and move towards his door.

“Y/n,” he calls your name, voice sounding strange, but you don’t want to look at him. If you look at him, you’re going to start crying. And that’s too embarrassing to explain.

You slip out of his bedroom and take the stairs two at a time. As you rush down, you run into someone. “Sorry—”

Looking up, you realize it’s Seokjin; he must’ve stayed the night. Even in your distress, you feel feverish wondering if you were too loud. However, he takes one look at you and stares like he has you all figured out. Your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

“Did something happen…?” he asks, looking at the door you just left wide open upstairs.

“Don’t worry about it,” you quickly say, adverting your eyes and sidestepping him.

This morning, it’s much easier to find the front door. Just as you’re about to slip out, you hear your name being called again, heavy steps thundering down the stairs. Shit, shit, shit. You break into a run and don’t stop until you have no more air to spare in your lungs. Thankfully, you’re far enough from the villa and close to the country club.

Only then do you allow yourself to fall into the grass as the tears finally cascade down your cheeks.

You’re a fool, you realize. A fool to have fallen in love with someone like Jung Hoseok. Someone who will never feel the same way. Someone who just uses you for a good time. someone who you barely even know. Someone you never wanted to get involved with.

***

You call out of work the next week, claiming to have the stomach bug. But you don’t have the stomach bug; in fact, you’re not even physically ill at all. You just can’t bear the thought of running into Hoseok at the country club.

On the first day, you listen to your sad girl hours playlist on repeat.

During your second day of moping in bed, you half consider quitting your job. Would it be too cowardly? Maybe. Unfortunately, there’s only a few weeks left of summer and you doubt that you’ll be able to find another job.

When the third day arrives, you finally get out of bed and take a proper shower. You didn’t realize how much you needed it.

Your mom knocks on your door on the fourth day. You only know it’s her by the way she taps on your door rhythmically; she’s always done that ever since you were a child. When you don’t respond, she dares to crack the door open. Shit, you forgot to lock it last night.

“Are you feeling better, love?”

You don’t move on the bed, hoping your mother thinks you’re asleep or something. But despite you not moving, she still shuffles into your room and settles herself on the edge of the bed.

“Is this because I haven’t been spending time with you this summer?”

No, mom. It’s me. I fucked up. Although, I would appreciate it if you did spend time with me—like you dragged me here this summer to do.

“I’m really sorry, love,” she whispers, getting up after a moment.

Once you’re sure she’s by the door, you finally open your mouth. “It’s not because of you. It’s…something else.”

You hear her grab onto the door, but she doesn’t say another word before leaving you all alone again.

On the fifth day, the bruises that littered your skin finally start fading. Glancing into the mirror of your bathroom, you run your fingers along the—now greenish-yellow—hickies he left on your neck. Goodness, there were so many. And annoyingly enough, you can still feel exactly where he had touched you—like his hands are still there right now.

Pulling your t-shirt down, you see more evidence of Hoseok’s assault on your chest. You have to stop yourself from looking at the rest of your body.

The sixth day you, finally, spend time pondering that terrifying thought you had about Hoseok. Are you actually in love with him? Do you even know what love feels like? What even is love? You’ve always been an overthinker, and these questions only make your head spin more. But after hours and hours of teetering the files of your brain, you do know one thing.

You like him.

You like Hoseok a lot.

It might not be love—perhaps that had been your sex-brain talking—but you were definitely starting to fall for him. You don’t know when or where the change happened, or maybe you’ve always liked him, but it feels good to finally admit the truth to yourself.

Now, the real challenge was if you would tell him.

Would it be worth it?

***

“Y/n, I seriously thought you’d quit!”

Soyoung is the first person you run into on your first day back. You just thank god it’s her and not someone else. You flash her a quick smile and greeting. “Hey.”

“What happened to you?” she asks, walking beside you down the hall.

“Stomach bug,” the lie passes surprisingly easily through your lips. Good thing you had enough time to practice saying those words out loud.

Soyoung makes a face. “That must’ve been awful, but I’m glad you’re well enough to be here.”

“Yeah, totally.”

She leaves you at the golf cart and you get into the seat with a sigh. Over the month and whatever weeks you’ve been here, driving the cart now feels like second nature. You no longer bump into displays or people.

As you drive around the green, you make a stop at every hole and offer the players drinks. At the beginning of summer, you’d been a little apprehensive about this job. However, it turns out, working as the drink cart girl isn’t half bad. The tips you make are worth being out in the scorching summer sun.

Towards the end of your round, you feel your nerves twist. You’re relieved that you haven’t seen Hoseok; then again, a part of you is worried. Why isn’t he here? He’s always here. Every single time you’ve driven on the range, he’s been here.

Where is he today?

Soon, you realize that you didn’t need to worry at all.

At the last hole, you see him—well, them. Hoseok, Seokjin, Namjoon, and Jeongguk are together, like they always seem to be. Inseparable. For a second, you think about skipping them, but then you overhear their conversation.

“Damn, Hoseok,” Jeongguk whistles, leaning against his club, “this is the worst game you’ve ever played.”

“He played worse than Namjoon,” Seokjin snickers.

Namjoon narrows his eyes. “I’m not that bad.”

“You lack coordination,” Seokjin explains to his friend, as if that was supposed to make the burn better. “And Hoseok usually always wins.”

“Now that I’m thinking about it, he hasn’t played well all week,” Jeongguk twists his lips.

“Dude probably hasn’t had ass in a week,” Namjoon comments.

“I’m right fucking here, assholes.”

You finally allow your eyes to settle on the man of the hour. Like his friends have suggested, he does seem off today. Normally, the Jung Hoseok you know is easy going, laid back. He’s usually cocky and charismatic. Every time you’ve seen him play golf, he’s amazing. He always swings with blind sureness—like he knows the ball will hit green. But the man you’re looking at right now is beyond tense and agitated.

“You’re no fun today,” Jeongguk pouts.

“He hasn’t been fun all week,” Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Not since the house party.”

Your hands stiffen on wheel. Hoseok’s been in a mood for a whole week? You try to find the answer to your own question in his eyes, but he hasn’t looked in your direction yet. In fact, none of them seem to realize you’re close. They all seem to be thrown off their usual balance. That obvious fact makes you realize you should probably just skip them. But as you lift your foot to press the gas pedal, Seokjin notices you.

Damn. Why is he always the first one to see you?

His eyes widen at your appearance. “Just the girl I was thinking about.”

That statement draws everyone else from their stupor and towards you. You watch as Jeongguk and Namjoon’s eyes also widen, but the only pairs of eyes you really care about right now can’t even meet yours. Hoseok shoots you a glance before twisting away, jaw hardened. Ouch. You feel a pang in your chest.

For some reason, his dismissal hurts more than anything else right now.

“Glad you finally arrived,” Seokjin continues talking, walking closer to you. “I was wondering when you’d come.”

It was weird to have Seokjin speak so much to you. The only person you ever really spoke to was Hoseok, but it seems like he’s the last person who wants to talk to you right now. Maybe coming into work was a bad idea.

“I think you should talk to him,” he says, and it was your turn to have wide eyes.

“I don’t know…” What could you even say to him? You don’t know where to begin because you don’t know what kind of relationship you have with Hoseok. Did you want a relationship with him? Did he even feel the same way?

“He’s been a fucking wreck all week because of you, you know?”

Your chest hurts. “Really?”

Seokjin nods. “I mean, the guy’s always a pain in the ass…” he rolls his eyes, “but it’s worse now.”

Maybe you hadn’t been the only one suffering this past week. As horrible as it sounds, the thought makes you feel…hopeful.

“We’ll take your cart back and cover for you, if you want.”

You stare at Seokjin and find yourself nodding. “Okay.”

He calls Jeongguk and Namjoon over, asking you to get out of the cart. “Don’t worry—we won’t steal your money.”

It’s a joke. You know it’s a joke. Still, you can���t help the next that slip past your lips unconsciously. “Like you all need it.”

The three of them laugh at you as they pile into the cart. Before you can say anything else, they drive off—leaving you alone with the one person you’re most nervous to speak to. He’s still turned away from you, staring off into the distance. You will your heart to stop racing as you wipe your sweaty hands on the back of your shorts.

Calm down.

You take a deep breath before you decide it’s now or never. Deciding it is time, you take the tentative steps towards Hoseok and run a million different scenarios in your head. What’s the worst thing that can happen? He tells you to fuck off and never speak to him again?

Nausea settles into your throat at the idea.

By the time you run another worst-case-scenario into your head, you’re just a few steps behind him. Closer to him now, you feel like you’re going to burst at the seams. You stare at his disheveled hair—like he’s been running a hand through it all day—and stiff body. Despite his rigid posture, he’s still the most handsome person you’ve ever seen.

You don’t know long you stand there and stare at Hoseok, but you don’t jolt out of your daze until you hear his voice.

“Are you just going to stare at me all day?”

“Oh, you’re—I mean, I—” you fumble with your words, nervously twitching your hands. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk.”

“It’s kind of hard to talk to someone who doesn’t even like me,” he says, finally turning to face you.

What? “Hoseok—”

“I know you hate me, so I won’t bother you again, if that’s what you wanted to talk about,” his voice is detached, and you realize you’ve never seen this side of him before. No wonder his friends were fed up with him. You would’ve been too. “Sorry if I annoyed you this summer.”

Without another word, he begins to walk away from you. What the hell is going on? You shake your head as you march up to him and grab onto his shirt. “Stop.”

“Y/n…”

“Hoseok, shut up!” You bring your eyes up to glare at him. “Just—just let me talk first, okay?”

His eyes are still cold, but you can see a bit of softness pool in them. “Fine.”

“You’re an idiot,” you breathe, dropping your fist and feeling something prick your vision. “I-I don’t hate you…I don’t hate you at all. And I don’t want you to stop bothering me. Yes, you’re annoying”—you feel him take a step away— “but I like it. I like you. I like you a lot, Hoseok. So much…I don’t even know—”

He stops your rambling with his lips. The kiss makes your heart soar and ache all at once because it feels so damn good—Hoseok feels so damn good. But it ends all too soon when he pulls away.

“I like you too.”

“Then why are you being so mean to me?” You feel an onslaught of tears flow down your cheeks.

Hoseok wipes a tear away with his thumb. “Because I thought you hated me.”

“Well, I don’t,” you sniffle.

“Then, why’d you leave?”

You know he’s talking about that morning. Do you tell him the truth? “Because I thought I was in love with you.”

“Love?” he chokes, and you feel a blush heat your face. “What made you think that?”

“Uh…it was just a sudden thought,” you awkwardly scratch the side of your face. “But I thought about it, and it’s not love…at least, not yet.”

You say that last part so quietly, you don’t think Hoseok even heard. However, the way his eyes gloss over for a moment lets you know that he did. You’re even more embarrassed now. You try to cover your face, but he grabs both of your hands before you can.

“Let’s take this one step at a time, yeah?” Look at him being the rational one here.

You nod, agreeing with him. “So, we like each other.”

“We do,” he says, suddenly pulling you closer to him. Your body hums being so close to him. Being close like this, you’re able to wrap your arms around him and does the same—hand moving to the back of your neck to tilt your head back. At this angle, you’re exposed to him.

“So, what are we?” you dared to ask the question.

Hoseok ghosts his lips over you. “I don’t like sharing.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach. “I haven’t been with anyone else this summer.”

It’s the truth. You haven’t even looked twice at anyone else. You haven’t desired anyone else. You don’t think you ever can again. Jung Hoseok has ruined you.

“Me either.”

“You and Nina—”

“We’re just family friends, remember?” he cuts you off.

“She clearly likes you.”

“Well, she’s not you. I’ve told you that before.”

He did. And, for some reason, you believed him.

“So, what are we?” you ask again, looking up at Hoseok to gauge what he’s going to say. He stares down at you for a moment before that smirk you know all too well graces his lips. As irritating as it is, you’ve missed it.

“We’re dating,” his eyes sparkle, before dimming a little. “If you’ll have me.”

Warmth pools in your stomach as you nod. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Mysterious Night Blooming Roses pt 3

Hey look, more of that vampire bodice ripper. 

Things are really heating up at Castle Pankratz!

tw: blood drinking, horny

---

“Many of your predecessors found my feeding to be...pleasurable,” the Viscount shrugged. “So don’t be embarrassed should any such feelings or physical reactions arise during our time together.”

The blush that bloomed across Geralt’s pale cheeks was enchanting and the vampire felt himself falling a little more in love with his most recent pseudo-employee. 

“Wh-What happened to my, uhm, predecessors?” Geralt asked, biting at his bottom lip. 

“The one before you, Moira, she’s off to start a wool trading business in Temeria. She wanted to learn a skill and find a job; you know, become a woman of independent means.”

“Oh.”

“And before her there was Thoren, and he’s probably teaching his children to fish by now. I suspect he has his own fleet of ships with the price cod has been selling for in Redania.”

“They’re still alive?”

“Of course! And they left Castle Pankratz with a hefty payment in thanks for their service. Enough to buy a whole herd of sheep, if you’re Moira. Or a nice cottage and a fishing boat, if you’re Thoren. I don’t know what you’ll choose to do with your money when your ten years is up. How old will you be, then?”

“Thirty-four.”

“You’re the perfect age! I became a creature of the night some time during my twenty-seventh year of life and that’s how I appear now; or so I have been told. I’ve actually been living here for nearly two thousand years.”

The peasant’s went wide and he swallowed thickly. “Hmm.”

“May I have your consent to drink from you, Geralt? I know it’s an odd way to meet and a rushed explanation of things, but it’s been rather a long week and I’m… I’m hungry, Geralt. Would you mind?”

“I suppose not, Your Grace,” the peasant murmured, and tilted his head to the side.

---

Their first time together had been rushed and uncomfortable and awkward. Fumbling. Like two teenagers attempting their first romantic embrace in a barn, avoiding their chores and praying that their parents or siblings didn’t accidentally peek inside and catch them. 

Things had gotten better since then. The village’s Samhain celebration was drawing ever closer and the darkness of night came earlier every day. There was more time for Geralt and Jaskier to spend together, talking and laughing in the library or sitting room. Jaskier wrote music, and often played his compositions for Geralt on the harp, lute, or piano. Geralt would read out loud some nights, his fingers playing idly with the laces of Jaskier’s shirt or the fringe of his hair as he did so. 

Then, early one autumn evening, Jaskier summoned Geralt to his private chambers.

“Your Grace?” the peasant asked, peeking his head and shoulders into his Master’s enormous bedroom.

“Come in, Geralt. Please come in and close the door behind you.”

Geralt stepped inside and closed the door. His eyes remained downcast as he turned towards bed where Jaskier lay, reclining comfortably like some kind of presiding deity. “You summoned me, Your Grace?”

“Come here, pet, and have a seat. I’d like to talk to you about something rather important.”

Geralt crossed the windowless chamber and took a nervous seat at the very edge of Jaskier’s mattress. He’d never been in this part of the castle before; usually the vampire took him to the sitting room or his own bedroom to feed because it was easier to tuck him in for a nap afterward. It was, as the vampire liked to joke, a rather draining experience for the young man. 

“Are you displeased, Your Grace? Have I done something wrong?”

“Oh no! Of course not, dear heart! You could not possibly be any more pleasing, in all honesty. I just wanted to know how you were getting along. How do you spend your days in my castle when I am asleep in here?”

“I read, mostly. You have some of my favorites in your library.”

“Such as?”

“I’ve read The Three Musketeers twice. I’ve read Treasure Island, Faustus, and a few collections of poetry as well.”

“Studious,” the vampire smiled, tugging Geralt closer. The mortal man allowed himself to be moved up the bed and into Jaskier’s cold yet inviting embrace. “I like that in a man.”

“In… in a man?”

“Have I misunderstood something, my dear? I thought I saw you peeking at me while I changed for supper yesterday,” Jaskier explained, relaxing his arms enough so that Geralt could easily leave if he wanted to. The vampire was right, however. Geralt had been peeking and he had liked what he’d seen. “I thought that you had perhaps begun to feel the same things for me that I have begun to feel for you.”

“What are you feeling exactly, Your Grace?” Geralt’s voice was low and sweet and dripped like honey. The warm human wrapped in Jaskier’s arms smelled fantastic, like lust and mint; the wine from dinner still sang in his blood. The vampire shivered and narrowed his eyes. The irises flashed from blue to red and then back to blue again, revealing to his guest the intense emotions he usually held in check. 

“In regards to you, my dear Geralt? I’m afraid that I feel significant attachment. I have not tasted blood so sweet and floral in over a hundred years, nor have I had conversations so scintillating. I suspect it has been many more years since I’ve had that, if I cared to actually count, but that would be a waste of time in your presence. You are clever, curious, loyal, and your chivalry seems to know no bounds, dear heart. How could I not feel something romantic in nature towards you when you, yourself, are so naturally easy to romance?”

The peasant’s face flushed prettily and his heartbeat sped up to a pleasant, ringing tempo. Jaskier could smell the mixture of love and arousal wafting off his darling Geralt and it nearly intoxicated him. He felt his fangs go sharp and steely in his mouth and he bit back a predatory hiss. “Fuck!”

“Your Grace? Are you alright?”

“Perhaps you should go after all, my pet. I’m afraid I-”

“No!” Geralt stiffened and pulled out of the Viscount’s arms. He shrank back against the covers and looked up at his Master with wide, worried eyes.  “I’m sorry, Your Grace, but I’m so confused. I can’t leave again until I know what your intentions are. It’s only been a few weeks since my arrival and yet I still I -” the young man grappled with his language, pleading for something that would get his feelings across to the ancient, all-knowing vampire before him. “- I can’t stop dreaming about you, Jaskier! I can’t get you out of my head! The more I try not to think about you the more I fantasize about sneaking in here and laying at your side as you sleep. I ache to feel your skin against my own. I long for your hands, colder than death as they are, to caress me and hold me.”

The vampire let his lips part, his fangs gleaming in the low light of a few candles. Geralt’s words caught in his throat and his heart-rate rose again. It was nearly frantic. Jaskier would have been worried, but that particular rhythm combined with the way Geralt had started to smell was really getting to his head. 

He allowed himself to give a single, territorial little growl before he rose onto his knees. The vampire placed one hand on either side of Geralt’s head and leaned down, brushing the tips of their noses together as he trapped his human quarry against a goosefeather pillow. “I dream of you as well, my pet. I dream of running my fingers through your soft white hair and listening as you read to me in that deep, rumbling voice.”

“Your Grace?”

“I dream,” Jaskier sighed, tracing his nose along Geralt’s jaw, “Of how delectable you smell when you’re happy. Of how caring you are when you’re worried. Of how you might react to sweet, glorious compliments being whispered in your ear as I hold you close and take you apart. I’ve had centuries of practice, dear heart, and I really am quite good.”

“Your Grace.” 

“I dream of touching you, Geralt. May I please touch you?” 

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Gods, Geralt. When you call me that, it -” the vampire’s fangs lengthened again, pushing and straining towards his sweet human sacrifice, “- It really awakens the nature of a beast in me.”

“My apologies, Master.”

Jaskier groaned and leaned away, his hands covering his face to keep his fangs from finding Geralt’s neck on instinct. “That’s certainly not any better.” 

“Do you wish to drink from me, Jaskier?” Geralt asked. His voice was meek. Nervous. The vampire’s long-dead heart nearly cracked in spite of itself. 

The peasant had never referred to it as drinking before. Always feeding or supping. Geralt understood that he was a food source and kept his distance from the whole process by using such specific terminology for their activities. Yes, the human clearly enjoyed the endorphins Jaskier’s feeding process released throughout his body, and the inhibition-lowering side-effects of Jaskier’s vampiric presence had let a few specific terms of endearment slip through the human’s lips but…

This was different. This was Geralt offering himself up rather than accepting his status as an offering from the village. He was an equal participant, now. 

“Would you like it if I drank from you, my dear?”

“Yes,” Geralt admitted. His face was aflame with either shame or lust; Jaskier suspected that it was a strong combination of both. He pulled himself against the vampire and tossed his hair to the side, baring the pale column of his throat. His voice was breathy and a little higher than normal when he locked his gaze with Jaskier’s and whispered, “I’m all yours, Your Grace.”

The backs of the Viscount’s knuckles swept across the smooth expanse of skin and both men shuddered with anticipation. Jaskier curled around Geralt possessively and ran his icy lips down the side of the human’s neck to his pulse-point. The vampire nibbled teasingly for a moment, letting his teeth and tongue worry the skin to a warm, vibrant pink before placing the tips of his fangs down. As he pressed in, breaking through and tasting the first few delectable ruby droplets, Geralt moaned openly. 

His hand clenched in the material of Jaskier’s night-shirt and his eyes rolled back into his head. It was rapturous. It was ecstasy. And now he didn’t have to keep himself silent and resigned; he could react the way he’d wanted to for weeks as his Master drank deeply from the fount of his heart.

“Jaskier!” The hand that wasn’t the vampire’s silk night-shirt was grasping at the skin of his hip, digging his fingers into the cold, firm crease where Jaskier’s long torso met his legs. He needed to hold on to something. He needed an anchor to this mortal realm or he’d go floating away forever, lost to the pleasures of his soon-to-be lover. 

Jaskier removed his fangs from the human’s neck after another moment or two and slowly licked the wound to clean it. Geralt frowned and glanced up, his eyes bright and his face flushed.

“Done already, Your Grace?”

“Oh, Geralt,” the vampire purred, clambering to straddle the taller man’s hips. “I’m just getting started.”

[secret-engima]

Fangs and Feathers verse: Ravus introduces Crowe to his mother. Or, Alternatively, Regis talks to Xanxus' mom. either scene I would love to see.

Pfffft Ravus introducing Crowe would be.

Interesting.

“Mother,” Ravus says as he scoots in, “I have someone I want to introduce you to.”

Sylva looks up and stills when Ravus steps aside and in enters Crowe, the Crown Prince’s bodyguard Galahdian, generally rumored and assumed to be ... not right in the head. The one she knows Ravus has taken a fascination too.

She has a bad feeling about this.

“This is Crowe,” her twice-born son says with a foxy, loving smile, “and I’m courting her.”

Sylva straightens, “Ravus-.”

“For a second time,” interrupts Crowe with a narrow-eyed look as she studies Sylva, “he courts me a second time. We were mates.” And that gives Sylva pause. A glance at Ravus confirms the story and the internally despairs. She meets Crowe’s gaze warily, wondering what kind of ... feral woman she is that she uses “mate” (though perhaps that was just the terminology of their old time?). Crowe meets the gaze, then hums in something that might be approval, “Mother Omnivore,” she seems to decide, “Thank you for caring and raising for my mate. His manners are much improved in this life. You trained him well.”

Sylva, more than a little bit off balance, blinks and decides to tentatively take that as a compliment.

...

It had been Titus’s sister’s idea. The woman (we’ll name her Hera since I’m lazy atm), upon learning that her son and his father had met and were ... sorta getting along, suggested that perhaps Xanxus would feel better about his father if they ... talked. Titus kept the idea to himself, but after REGIS said something similar of his own violation ... well. A meeting was arranged.

Regis refused to meet her in the throne room, refused to call her in as a citizen before her king rather than the mother of his son. Instead she was led to a little patio in a corner of the royal gardens and they sit down to have a ... talk ... over lunch.

It is very awkward. She is unsure how to speak to the monarch she ... had a fling with and Regis is unsure how to speak to the mother of the son he didn’t know of for years (the son who only JUST stopped hating him, if he messes this up nothing will repair his relationship with Xanxus, also there’s the guilt he feels for not knowing, not BEING THERE).

Finally, Hera bridges the gap with a few tentative stories of Xanxus’s childhood, and Regis apologizes for not being there. Which she tells him is silly, because she and Titus were the ones to keep it a secret, he couldn’t have known.

Anyway yea they get to talking and its still stiff but it’s ... cordial. Nice. Regis freely invites her to visit whenever she wants, or even have a suite in the Citadel if she so desires, but if not, he understands. She’s built a life in Lestallum after all.

Xanxus lurks in the far corner of the garden as they bid their goodbyes and he has never felt Dread™ like the moment Noctis, idly hugging his leg, got that far-off Intuition look in his eyes and murmured, “She’ll make a nice step-mom.”

[thirsttrapholland]

Can you imagine starring in a new movie and Harrison is your costar and love interest. You’re also dating Haz’s best friend Tom who wants to show his support to you two on set but the very day he chooses to visit is the very same day you and Haz are filming a love scene! And of course Tom gets jealous and feels the need to remind you that you’re his 😏

Method Acting

Pairing: Tom Holland x Female Reader with special guest appearance by Harrison Osterfield

Warnings: Light smut

Words: 1846

A/N: I know jack all about what takes place on movie sets or all the different terminology or equipment involved so forgive me if I got something wrong.   Also I may have downplayed the jealousy angle just a bit.  As always I apologize if the formatting looks weird on mobile.  Mobile hates me (and sucks)

You looked deeply into Harrison’s eyes; mesmerized by his cool crystalline stare. You tried not to flinch as he put his arms around you, drawing you into a tight embrace.

Without uttering a word, he put two fingers under chin, tilting your face up and bringing his mouth down to yours.  He walked you backwards until he had you pressed up against the wall.  Your hands tangled in his hair as the kiss deepened.  His hands slid down your body, over the curve of your hips before settling on your ass; firmly gripping your soft flesh.

You counted the seconds in your head as the kissing and touching seemed to go on forever until—

“Cut.”  The director called out, finally bringing the scene to an end.  You and Harrison slowly stepped away from each other, barely able to look each other in the eye.  

You felt like your performance had been stiff and unnatural, a feeling that was soon confirmed when the director approached the two of you to talk.  

“Listen, you two have been doing great work so far but you have got to work on your chemistry.  The audience needs to feel like they’re watching two people falling in love and overcome with desire for each other and that is not what I just saw.   Think about somebody else if you have to.  We’re gonna reshoot this scene after lunch and I need to see some passion, okay? Try to loosen up a little bit.”  That last sentence had been pointedly aimed in your direction.

You and Harrison both nodded, murmuring assurances to the director that you would do better on the reshoot as he walked away.  

Even though the comments had been directed at the both of you, you knew you were the root of the problem. Harrison had been game to film the scene but once you froze up, it threw him off as well.  The two of you had to play off of each other for the scene to work and you knew you hadn’t done your part. Harrison, always the sweetheart, was gracious enough not to call you out.

“Well, that was awkward.” Harrison said, giving voice to what you were feeling. The pinkish flush creeping up his neck let you know that he was just as embarrassed as you were.

“Yeah, kind of.” Awkward was the understatement of the millennium.  “I’ll see you after lunch.”

You turned from him and started walking swiftly towards your trailer.  You needed time to shed your character and decompress.  If you didn’t find a way to loosen up, you knew your performance was going to continue going downhill.

When you had first found out that Harrison had been offered a role in the movie you had already been cast in, it had seemed like a happy coincidence.  Being able to have your first big screen experience with your boyfriend’s best friend who was also a good friend of yours had seemed like a dream come true. Tom had been unbelievably proud of both of you when he heard the news.

However, rewrites that took place shortly before shooting had begun, changed the nature of the relationship between your character and Harrison’s dramatically.  The producers insisted that the movie needed to have a romantic subplot between your characters.

You were no longer just two people begrudgingly thrown together to solve a mystery; you were two people begrudgingly thrown together to solve a mystery that were suddenly going to fall in love along the way.  This meant multiple kissing scenes and an intense sex scene.  Something that neither you, Harrison and certainly not Tom, had been expecting.

Your dream come true had turned into a nightmare like something borne out of a twisted fanfiction, almost overnight.

You were all actors of course.  You knew that having to kiss people and even pretend to have sex with people was sometimes just part of the job.  

You knew how to remain professional, but all the professionalism in the world didn’t make it any less mortifying to have your boyfriend’s bestie on top of you pretending to hump you like his life depended on it.

As much as Tom had wanted to come on set to support both you and Harrison, you had all agreed that it might not be the best idea for him to come right away.  The director, who had not been too happy about having the romance plot shoved into the movie at the last minute, had decided to film those scenes first and get them out of the way.

This was your first big break as an actress and having Tom there watching you and Harrison paw at each other, would have just been too much.

Which is why you were so caught off guard when you opened the door to your trailer and found Tom sitting on the loveseat inside, passing the stress ball you always kept with you from one hand to the other.  

You lingered in the doorway for a second trying to process the fact that he was actually there.  

Tom looked up at you, an emotion you couldn’t quite place emanating from his usually warm brown eyes. He put the stress ball down on the coffee table and spoke quietly.  “Hey.”

“Hey.”  You were still standing in the doorway almost like you were frozen to the spot.  You didn’t know why but seeing Tom so soon after your kissing scene with Haz was making you feel guilty; like you had been caught out doing something you shouldn’t have.

“You don’t look very happy to see me.”

Tom’s words and oddly subdued tone broke the spell that had been hanging over you.  You closed the trailer door behind you and went to sit beside him.

“Why would you say something like that?  Of course, I’m happy to see you.  I’m always happy to see you.”  You threw your arms around his shoulders and gave him a kiss on the cheek.  “I’m just surprised because we had discussed you not coming to set until later on during the shoot.”

“Yeah.  I’m sorry.  I was just so happy for you and I wanted to come show my support.  Maybe take you and Haz out for lunch.  Still, I could have at least texted to let you know that I was coming.”

“Have you been here long?” You said a silent prayer in your head, hoping that Tom had only just arrived.  Those hopes were soon dashed.

“I’ve been here for about half an hour.”  Just long enough to have seen you and Haz all over each other.  

“The director let me stand behind the monitors.  I didn’t want you two to see me and get nervous or distracted.  I came back to your trailer when the director pulled you and Harrison aside to talk.”

An uncomfortable silence settled in between the two of you.  Both of you obviously had a lot on your mind but neither of you knew the best way to express your thoughts.  

After a few moments, Tom stood up from the loveseat.  “This doesn’t seem like a good time for me to be here.  Maybe I should go.”

“I don’t want you to go.” You grasped his hand to stop him from heading towards the door.  Talk to me, Tom.”

He reluctantly sat back down beside you.  “I feel really stupid and kind of petty for even thinking what I’m thinking.  I don’t want to make things worse by saying it out loud.”

You put your hand on Tom’s jaw, urging him to turn and face you.  “Well keeping it to yourself isn’t going to help anything.  Might as well just get it out in the open.”

“I know that I should know better.  I know that it’s just acting.  I know that you and Harrison would never actually do anything but seeing you two together, touching each other like that, I guess it affected me in a way that I didn’t think it would.”  Tom sighed, trying to look anywhere but in your eyes as a sheepish look settled across his features.  “It just looked so real and I felt a little jealous.  You have my full permission to tell me what an idiot I’m being.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation to you, our performance didn’t seem real at all to the director.  That’s what he had pulled us aside to talk about.”

“Of course, that’s no consolation to me.  I love you. You’re an amazing actress and this is a big opportunity for you. I want you to do well.”  

Tom sat up straighter and looked you in the eyes for the first time since you’d come into the trailer; the abashed look on his face immediately replaced with one of pure concern.    “Forget everything I just said and tell me what the director said to you.  Maybe I can help you.”

“Basically, he said that my performance was stiff, lacking in passion and I needed to loosen up.  I don’t know how you could help me with that.”

“Really?  You don’t know any way that I could possibly help you loosen up?” A sly grin spread across Tom’s face as his eyes lit up with an emotion that you could read all too well and were very familiar with: pure lust.    “Think about it for a second.”

It didn’t take long at all for you to catch on.  You started to lean back on the loveseat, grasping Tom’s shoulders and pulling him down on top of you.  Your mouths met in a crashing of teeth and tongue as you hungrily bit and licked at each other.  Now this was a real kiss, overflowing with all the passion and ardor missing from your onscreen lip lock with Harrison.

Tom rucked your dress up around your hips as he settled his body down between your legs.  He pushed your underwear to the side and slid one long, tapered finger down your center; in awe as always of how easily you got wet for him.   You watched with lust blown eyes as he brought that same finger up to his mouth, licking and sucking away your arousal; he added another finger, getting them both good and wet before returning them to your now aching core rubbing slowly but intently around your clit.

You were already pulling down Tom’s sweats before he paused to ask, “Is the door locked?”

“I’ve been alone in enough trailers with you to know to lock the door on instinct,” you said as your hands found the hem of his t-shirt and started pulling it up over his head.

“That’s my girl.”

 By the time your lunch break was over, any jealous feelings had been completely banished from Tom’s mind and you were considerably “looser”.

And if Tom had to stop by set occasionally, to help you stay loosened up, that was a sacrifice he was more than willing to make.

 Permanent Taglist: @pxterbpxrker @thewinchesterchronicles @spaceprintesa

[gaiatheorist]

“The correct word is vagina.”

I gave myself a time-out on this one, I’d seen the ‘100 vulvas’ article in The Guardian, then the internet meltdown as a man, Paul Bullen, tried to tell a gynaecologist she was using the wrong word. She wasn’t, and my initial rage that he was asserting incorrect information didn’t abate when he KEPT doing it. He just wouldn’t accept being corrected.

He eventually back-tracked that what he was saying was that the ‘commonly used’ word for the vulva is ‘vagina’, and that, ladies, gentlemen, and everyone else is as much of the problem as some-men refusing to acknowledge when they are wrong. Reflecting back to my biology lessons at school, the diagrams of the male reproductive system had more detailed labels than the female ones, because the lessons were concerned with reproductive functioning, not anatomy. Vagina, cervix, uterus, ovaries, if the vulva was labelled at all, it wasn’t discussed, or explained in any detail, because it’s not ‘really’ part of the reproductive system. It’s not ‘essential’ for reproduction, ask Christopher Chope. The male reproductive system had more labels, we had scrotum and testes, seminal vesicles, prostate gland, vas deferens, shaft, glans, foreskin, much more detail on the delivery system than the system that does the rest of the work. 

Even further back in time, when I was giving my statement to a police officer after disclosing sexual abuse, I’d stated that my vagina had been penetrated. As per protocol with Child Protection recording, the officer will have been trained to ‘use the words as stated’ in her report. I’d stated ‘vagina’, which possibly seemed like a stilted and technical term for a girl of 12/13, so the officer sought clarification. “What do you call your vagina?” “I don’t call it anything, I don’t talk to it that much.”, I was awkward back then, as well. I didn’t talk to it, or about it, we didn’t have a cute family word for it, no front-bum, or tuppence, or foof. It was ‘down there’ or ‘bits’, but it was mostly unmentioned-unspeakable. “Don’t touch that, you’ll make it sore.” My vulva and vagina were ‘that.’ 

“That” and “down there” and “bits”, cutesy-euphemisms, and the general lack-of-discussion, unless it’s some bloke saying “She had a fanny like a busted sofa!” to ‘have a laugh’ with his mates, herein lies the problem, and the reason Paul thought he was right. (He totally wasn’t.) Women don’t tend to talk about their genitals, because girls don’t mention them. While the boys are off willy-coptering, or having pissing competitions, or doing an Adrian Mole and measuring their penises, the girls aren’t even mentioning their paraphernalia. It’s the Cloaca Complex, we’re conditioned not to touch, explore, or even discuss ‘that’, because it’s dirty, it’s smelly, it’s for going to the toilet. (Hello, all the people who boys-will-be-boys about a toddler tugging his todger, so is a penis.) (For toilet-business, not ‘dirty’ or ‘smelly.’) If a vulva is malodorous, it might well be the case that the owner has never been taught how to clean it, how utterly paradoxical that we’re taught-not-to-touch, and the thing BECOMES dirty as a result. (Don’t go all Gwyneth Paltrow on it, mild soap and water does the trick, as long as you get into all the nooks and crannies, of which there are many.) 

Women are dying of preventable cancers because they’re embarrassed about their genitalia. I appreciate that men are also less-likely to present to their doctors with ‘tackle’ related issues, but that’s more likely to be the ‘real men don’t’ angle than worrying that their parts aren’t porn-perfect. The stereotype of women being neurotic-hypochondriacs, who will present to the doctor with everything doesn’t extend to our genitals. I hate smear tests, or any other kind of gynaecological procedures, I’m not scared of them, I literally loathe having strangers poking around my privates, but I’ll bite my lip, (Orbicularis oris, I’m not THAT flexible) count the tiles on the ceiling, and try not to tense up. I’m an odd sort of creature, and I like knowing the names for things, so I can explain to the poor practitioner probing my nethers that I have an anterior-tilted uterus, and a high cervix, with an old abrasion scar on the posterior side, that tends to bleed if touched, and contaminate slides. I can distinguish my labia majora from my labia minora, I know where my urethral opening is, and I know that the clitoral hood is a different structure to the clitoris itself, so people who talk about clit-piercings are wrong. I like having the correct words for things, and the ‘correct word’ for my vulva is not ‘vagina.’ 

Paul, wrong-though-he-is, does have a point. A lot of people, including women, do refer to the whole general area ‘down there’ as the vagina. They’re wrong. The vagina is only the ‘birth canal’, the muscular tube, open to the outside world at one end, and terminating in the cervix at the other. (Apologies to anyone without a cervix, anyone who hasn’t or won’t ‘birth’, and anyone who may not have started life with that configuration.) Paul is trying to be all right-on, and hip, and inclusive, by using the word ‘vagina’, he might not even have screwed up his face when he typed it. This is where the issues become very tangled. To quote Tim Minchin’s brilliant ‘Prejudice’, “Only a ginger can call another ginger ‘Ginger.’.” The first-wave feminists encouraged women to explore and examine their genitals, and re-claimed the word ‘vagina’. Most people, with the notable exception of the current US president, don’t have an issue saying the word, “Bleeding from her wherever.” was insulting, but also a reflection on his own oppressive-repression, he finds females less-than, and can’t bring himself to utter the word ‘vagina.’ 

Widely-used though the word is, it wasn’t given to Paul. He decided to take it, and re-frame it within his own misconstrued context, I wonder if he uses the N-word in company of black people, too? We-women, long disadvantaged by patriarchal oppression, HAVE vaginas, Paul does not. It’s not up to Paul to tell us how to refer to our genitals, and it’s certainly not his place to man-splain to a gynaecologist about ‘correct’ terminology, then claim he wasn’t man-splaining. He totally was. Terminology changes, oppressed groups re-claim words, names, or labels, I’m perfectly comfortable referring to myself as a whore in some circumstances, BUT I’m not having someone on the outside deciding when I’m a whore, and when I’m not. I’m happy enough referring to the collection of structures that make up my genitalia as my ‘cunt’, and then giving more detailed directions as and when required, but that doesn’t give anyone else permission to call me a ‘stupid cunt.’ (I am more than the sum of my parts.) 

A lack of education and confidence leads to some people referring to the vulva as the vagina. It’s clinically incorrect, but widespread. (No pun intended.) Paul was wrong to state “The correct word is vagina.”, he was extra-wrong to state it, with absolute dick-swinging confidence, to a gynaecologist, and I’m incredulous at how long he kept arguing. The arrogance of the man, he just wouldn’t admit he was wrong, to be fair to him, I didn’t see him being unpleasant to any of the people replying to him, but he just wouldn’t back down. We-women are tired of shit like that, of being told what we think, or why we’re wrong to have opinions, especially by people who are spouting absolute bollocks. Man-splaining is a new term for a practice that has possibly existed since the dawn of society, women have come a long way from being chattel-in-corsets, but we’re STILL routinely corrected by men. We can’t possibly understand things, with our pretty little heads, can we? When we argue back, we’re hysterical harridans, man-haters.

‘Men’ I don’t hate you. Sometimes I call some of your behaviours into question, because they perpetuate archaic inequalities that have no basis in fact, logic, or science.  I’m calling Paul’s behaviour into question. Paul, all of him, not just the part of him that is his penis, was a penis.