#I might have to pick up something heavier so I can let it consume me for more then a few hours

[vegetable-soup-wizard]

Im reading like a book a day (200-300 words) right now and I think I’m regressing but it’s ok because I was smarter when I was like 11

[fshaechans]

bf! haechan x fem reader

tags: smut, nsfw

wc: 840

warnings: mean dom! haechan, sub! reader, jealousy, manhandling, possessiveness, breeding kink (?), overstimulation, creampie, unprotected sex, hickeys/marking (slightly/once), thigh riding, slightly choking… (lmk if i missed something)

•not proofread

•dni/dnr if it makes you uncomfy.

•reposting!!!!

-“Do you think I didn't see the way he looked at you? I bet you enjoyed getting attention from him”- haechan says as soon as the two of you get home after a long day with his friends.

-"What are you talking about? Mark? love, of course not, we were just talking”

-“I saw you laughing at his unfunny jokes, he touching you “accidentally”

-“Hyuck, forget about it, it was no big deal”

-“Can't help but get a little angry when i see him look and touch you like that”

Haechan takes you by the wrist, taking you to the bedroom, throwing you on the bed and locking the door.

-"What are you doing?" you ask, but already knowing where all this is going to end, you might not admit it, but you love when haechan shows his jealous side, because almost every time it ends up with him fucking you without pity and after that, ends up with cuddling in bed and lots of kisses.

-“I want you to come sit here on my lap, wearing just your bra and panties, do you hear me? “- He speaks as he positions himself at the head of the bed fully dressed.

You just obey, taking off your shirt and shorts, leaving only the pieces he asked for and finally sitting on his lap.

-“Good girl, I know you love to rub yourself on my dick like a whore, don't you?-Haechan says holding your waist tightly, while you do the friction with back and forth movements.

You let out a groan, his words are turning you on even more.

-“Hyuck, I need to feel you”

-"Seriously? what you need to feel, tell me loud and clear”

-“You”- you say low hiding in his neck, he picks you up grabbing your neck making you look at him.

-"Look at me, didn't you hear when i said to say it loud and clear?"- he holds your waist again, but this time pressing you so you can feel how hard he is under the jeans he's wearing.

-“And you think you deserve my dick inside you?”

You don't respond since your mind is so consumed with the sensation and can’t process anything, until you feel a slap on your ass, which snaps you out of that trance and makes you arch your back.

-“You better fucking answer me y/n” - he slaps your ass again, this time harder.

-“Hyuck, you know i'm yours, only yours, please fill me up-“

-“Say it again”- he demand.

-“I'm yours”

-“That's right,nobody is allowed to touch you like this except for me.”

He puts his fingers inside your panties, running his fingers through your opening and massaging your clit.

-“Looks like i don’t have to be inside you to make you cum, you are so wet for me. I'm gonna fuck you so good you forget all about that bastard.”

He lifts you up for a moment to get you off his lap so he can unzip his pants and show off his hard cock.

-“Hmm, you are so big hyuck, oh my g-” you moan mid-sentence as you sit slowly on his cock, scratching your pussy out.

-“You can take it. Hands behind your back.”

Haechan gives you some strong thrusts while with one hand he plays with your right breast and puts the left one in his mouth, making circular movements with his tongue around your nipple.

-“Keep your eyes on me, see how I fuck you, only I can fuck you so well, he could never make you feel like this”

-“Haechan”- you moan loudly, looking like you're already close to reaching your climax, the thrusts getting deeper and faster, his words make you more and more aroused.

-“Louder. Let me hear you.” haechan speaks close to your ear, going down to your neck, kissing and leaving a slight hickey on your sensitive area.

-“F- haechan i'm so fucking close-“

-“Don’t hold back, cum for me, show me how much i make you feel good”

Your breathing starts to get a lot heavier than normal as you reach orgasm, but hyuck doesn't stop thrusting into you, which starts to overstimulate you.

-“Baby, too much!” you whimper from the overstimulation, making your thighs tremble and your body go weak, but hyuck catches you holding your waist.

After a few hard and deep thrusts, haechan comes inside you, making a mess and running some of his semen down your thighs, which he catches with his finger.

- "Open your mouth for me" you obey, cleaning and sucking his finger and tasting a little of his taste.

After both of you reach the limit, you fall over his body, which he hugs you, caressing your back and giving kisses on your face.

-“I love you so fucking much y/n. You're mine, and if i have to remind of that again, i will."

You nod and smile.

-“I love you, my sunshine”

-“Now let me take care of you, y/n”.

[unholyverse]

waterparks // kerrang! magazine issue #1645

(full article text under cut)

BRING OUT THE BIG GUNS

WATERPARKS MAY VERY WELL HAVE WRITTEN THE POP-PUNK ALBUM OF 2016. IN FACT, AS FAR AS THEY SEE IT, THEY'VE WRITTEN A DEBUT BIGGER THAN ANY GENRE BOLD ENOUGH TO CLAIM IT. THEIR TIME IS NOW….

The first 30 seconds of Made In America, the sixth track on Waterparks' debut record Double Dare, serves as a mission statement. Opening with a riff that any far heavier band would be proud of, before giving way to a verse backed with scattered synths and leading into a pop chorus that could raise the roof off of any club on the planet, the message is clear: expect the unexpected.

They'll be classified as a pop-punk band based on associations and aesthetic, but there's no-one around Waterparks-neither in genre nor age group- making music like they are. Album opener Hawaii (Stay Awake) contains an almost rapped refrain; Take Her To The Moon would sound just as good on an Ibiza beach as it would at Slam Dunk Festival; and Little Violence takes punk to its most antagonistic lengths. Waterparks aren't confined by genre or convention, picking and choosing the best of whatever the hell they like—like children running amok in a toy shop—and combining it perfectly.

"We've tried to make it a point to not just make a 'pop-punk' or a 'rock' album," says frontman Awsten Knight, settling into conversation with Kerrang!. "We played it safer in the past, but this is going to be people's first real impression of us, so we just needed to push this shit to China. We wanted to make sure that people expect to not know what to expect from us. It's 2016-you can do whatever you want."

Be that as it may, to be this daring on a debut album takes confidence. But if a conversation with Awsten is anything to go by, it's a quality that's far from lacking. The Texan native is, like the state from which he came and still resides, both brash and unashamed of his lofty ambitions. In fact, anything other than determination to be the best is frankly off-putting to him.

"I've heard bands during interviews being like, Y'know, if people like it, that's fine, we just want to play music…" he scoffs. "Dude! No! Why would you dedicate your life to something and not care if it does well? That's insane. I don't wanna be like, 'Let me know what you guys think, I hope you like it!' Fuck that. It's, 'Here are some absolute jams, take it and we're gonna keep giving you music and it's gonna be tight as hell.'" And what of his own ambitions for the band? "I want it to be the biggest thing ever," he asserts. "And if that's an attitude that turns people off, and if people don't want good things for us… They can eat dicks."

I here's far more swirling around in Awsten Knight's head than sheer bravado, however. There's a depth to rock's newest future superstar that's mirrored on Double Dare, which boasts substance to back up its all-consuming style. Singing "You drop your guy and take me on / It's everything I wanted / But then what? / Would you get tired of my, time?" on 21 Questions, Awsten shows self-doubt in what might feel like triumph for others. On Powerless, Awsten laments with brutal honesty how he doesn't hear from his friends anymore. Clearly. Waterparks is so much more to Awsten than a chance to have pop choruses sung back at him.

"I don't like talking to people about personal shit," Awsten reveals. "I'll just put it in the songs. There are lyrics that you could look at and be like, 'Oh, he wants to die,' but then the next song could be like, 'Aww, he's in love. This way I don't have to talk about it in real life."

The time leading up to Double Dare gave him lots to not talk about and even now, speaking to K! about it all, Awsten retreats into himself more than seemed possible from such an outwardly charismatic dude.

"I went through a while where I didn't talk to anyone or want to see any of my friends." He pauses. I got out of a four-and-a-half year relationship in that time, too. A lot of weird and sketchy things caused me to be a recluse for a little bit."

Even the usually cast-iron confidence in his band can falter slightly if Awsten thinks about the wrong thing. He worries that the amount of attention they're getting might jinx them. "It's weird when people say, 'Waterparks are going to blow up.'" he admits. "What if we don't? I don't want people to look back at all those articles and see us as just some band that flopped."

There's a duality at play: Awsten, the fiercely driven, self-assured frontman faces off against Awsten, the self-critical, occasional loner. It's a battle that he's keen to see end in a tie.

"I'm always both," he says of his split personality. "If I was either of those personalities full-time, shit just wouldn't get done. If I was a bummer all the time, then our shows wouldn't be fun. I think the balance is there and that's what makes it work."

Awsten, more than anyone, knows who he has to be and what he has to do for his band to be successful. And where those two sides meet is in his work ethic. When Waterparks needed flyers made, he learned Photoshop. When they needed a way to sift through their many, many different ideas before paying for studio time, Awsten set up a studio at home. Merch designs? Promo filming and editing? All Awsten. "I hate being dependent," he stresses. "Nobody's going to work as hard for your band as you will yourself. If you're stuck relying on people, you're going to be fucked."

But with that hard work about to pay off in the biggest way - Double Dare is set to propel his band into the ranks of pop-punk's elite - are Waterparks and Awsten, self-doubt and all, ready for the level of success headed their way?

"Well, we better be!" Awsten exclaims without a second's thought. "Everything that we have right now as far as the album and all the other cool stuff we have going on and the things we've accomplished, those aren't accidents. I quit school to do this full- time, so if we get to that point and I'm like, 'Oh, I'm not ready,' then fuck me, it's my fault.

"I honestly try not to think about any of it too hard, though," he continues more soberly, "because that would mess me up. But we're pretty ready."" And they'd better be.

DOUBLE DARE IS OUT NOW VIA EASY LIFE

TOY STORE-Y

WHAT WOULD WATERPARKS GET UP TO IF THEY GOT LOCKED INSIDE A TOY SHOP OVERNIGHT? LET'S FIND OUT, SHALL WE…

AWSTEN KNIGHT (VOCALS/GUITAR) "Completing the prophecy, as my eyes roll back, my skin turns purple and I crawl backwards to the ceiling!"

OTTO WOOD (DRUMS) "If I managed to get trapped in a toy shop, I would monopolise the Lego market and make it a real pain in the ass for anyone who was looking to construct the biggest Lego house ever (laughs)!"

GEOFF WIGINGTON (GUITAR) "Let's see…If I was to get trapped in a toy shop overnight I would most likely find myself building the biggest Lego house ever. Once that's ready, I'd go and find myself a wife and a dog, so we can all grow old together. The end!"

WORDS: KYAN DE PREITAS // PHOTOS: MICHAEL ANTHONY

[epigstolary]

The Middle of Nowhere

Technically, I’m free to come and go as I please. My chaser doesn’t keep me under lock and key. There’s no gainer sex dungeon, no bed with handcuffs built into it, no livestock feeding machine with a harness he lashes me into. Anybody could come up and knock on the door, and there’s a decent chance my 800 pounds would even waddle up to the door to greet them. I’m not a captive. I’m not even hidden. I’m just… in the middle of nowhere.

At first, the idea of a farmhouse way out in the country seemed idyllic. Peace, quiet, privacy, and the miles of fields and plains stretching far away. It didn’t hurt that, in a rural place like where I was from, there was virtually nobody interested in feeding and growing someone — except for him, and he was surprisingly close. We met for the first time at the diner in town, but it didn’t take long for the discussion to turn to where he lived — miles away, miles down a dirt road cutting off from the already desolate rural route running along the edge of his land. Nobody around to spy or judge. Someplace where we could be ourselves.

I jumped at the chance to move in with him, and I started blowing up almost immediately. I had the opportunity to indulge myself, and I took it — while he’d be out at work, I’d be sitting around his farmhouse, always eating or snacking between meals, never having to stop and go anywhere. I went from my original fat body to morbidly obese in a matter of weeks, and in six months nearly doubled my weight. He bought me clothes with room to grow, but faster than either of us expected my belly was fully hanging out the bottom of my shirts, resting on the thighs that were stretching my formerly baggy pants to the bursting point. My newly flabbier arms bulged out of the sleeves, flexing the fabric as they lifted more food into my waiting mouth. I didn’t strictly need clothes, since I never went anywhere, but we both liked to keep up the pretense that I was living something of a normal life.

There was no question that he wanted to see me fatter; but he never forced me to eat, never got angry when I said I wanted to slow down or try to eat a little healthier. He just kept cooking, kept serving, kept making sure everything I couldn’t resist was always in reach. That was all it took. It wasn’t long before my belly and arms made me far too large to fit in the small cab of his old pickup. The discovery that I was now isolated here — completely under his power and dependent on him to leave, confined as effectually as if I were chained — took my breath away. Even if I could somehow squeeze behind the wheel, the fat bulging out around it was enough to keep me from turning it or reaching the pedals, however much I might push against that resistance. At that point, my only real means of leaving became tantalizingly close but forever out of reach. I could see it, touch it, get as close as I wanted; but I could never use it to save myself again.

I did try to walk away once. When I hit 500 pounds and he made an entire cake for me to finish to celebrate, I had a minor freak out at just how big I was getting and decided I had to get out. So I started walking in the middle of the night. But at a very sedentary quarter-ton, it didn’t take long before I had burned through the panic adrenaline and started getting winded hauling so much fat around. My back ached from holding up my juggling belly, my thighs burned from the unfamiliar friction of walking a long distance, and my chest clenched tight from exertion and the struggle to breathe. I collapsed about a half-mile toward the road, a sweaty, blubbery heap; and early in the morning I heard his pickup chugging up behind me. Without a word, with no reproach, he helped me up, hoisting my bulbous ass into the cab of the truck. He drove us both back toward the house, my body jiggling with every bump and dip. A pound of bacon and a plate of chocolate pancakes calmed me down just fine.

Things only accelerated from there. Early on, I’d been able to take a snack out to the yard and walk along the fence to get some fresh air. Now, I’m barely able to waddle out to the porch and plop down on the bench, my overhang bumping against my knees with each step. I’ll go out with a plate of food, my ass filling the two-seater bench in its entirety, and watch the occasional car glide by on the distant road, as remote and unreachable to me as the moon. Even if I really did want to leave — even if I thought I could go somewhere, ignore my hunger long enough to get down to a “normal” size, and go back to my life as it was — how would I do it? I’m not struggling for miles to the road carrying nearly a half-ton of blubber, if I could even make it down the driveway on my own without getting completely winded; and even if I did, nobody is picking up a hitchhiker who can barely fit into a pickup bed.

Who could I call for help, then? The police? And tell them what, that they should arrest my roommate because I ate myself to the size of a small elephant? This is the midwest; there’s a decent chance I wouldn’t even be the fattest person they’ve dealt with that week. And there’s nobody here driving for Uber, no cab company within a hundred miles, even if I could fit in their car. I could hire an ambulance, but with what money? And anyway, I’m not ready for the shame of being strapped into a gurney and bundled away by a troupe of men, all gawking at how much lard I’d been able to pack onto my frame and tut-tutting at the fat cow who let their indulgence and morbid obesity get so out of control. That might come whether I want it to or not someday, but not yet.

So here I sit — chewing, swallowing, consuming. Eating so much I can almost feel my body expanding with new fat every day. More weight pressing me down, making the distant road that much further away. My thighs and calves jiggling more, my pudge-filled arms swinging more to balance my weight, my belly hanging lower every day. And he sits here with me — smiling, complimenting, admiring my growing rolls and tighter clothes and slower steps and heavier breaths. Watching as I build my own prison, bite by bite.

It won’t be long before the dozen or so steps to the porch and the now-too-narrow front door are more trouble than they’re worth. Then more and more of my meals will be taken on the couch because it’s not worth my fat-laden frame hobbling over to the dining table. Then eventually, maybe, I stop getting up at all, and just let my fat swell and grow in place. How much bigger will I get then, I wonder.

He doesn’t have to keep me locked up, because I’m doing the job well enough on my own. And I know he’ll never stop wanting me bigger. I can see it in his eyes when he imagines my body under another hundred, five hundred, thousand pounds of fat, wobbling pitifully amidst a pile of unmoving lard and struggling desperately to function at all. What is he going to do to get me there? What’s going to happen to me when I’m too big to go anywhere and he has me, in the middle of nowhere, all to himself?

I guess all I can do is keep eating and find out.

[twistedmusings]

My Kind of Human

Ramshackle stayed silent throughout the night, the moon and stars shining light into each room. 

All except one. 

I swear on my askbox that I am working on requests but this idea popped into my head and now it won’t leave and people always tell me to find a niche and I think my niche is angsty smut. And in this niche I will dwell ò uó. Aside from that, I’m very asexual so if my sexy scenes are bad you are more than welcome to roast me.   Reader is [G/N]  Warnings: Lemon soda (smut), possessive Malleus, bareback, dub-con and our good ol’ dragon boy just putting you under a spell so he can have you all to himself. 

“Do you have someone special, Tsunotarou?” 

Malleus stops walking as he looks down at your frame, your eyes staring up at the sky while you both are sitting down at the step of Ramshackle. 

“Special?” 

“Yeah.” you sigh as your eyes remain fixed on the stars, “Someone special. Like someone you wouldn’t trade for the world.” 

His first thought is his Grandmother. She had taken over the role of ruler of the Valley of Thorns and had let him grow in a somewhat normal fae childhood. He had heard many stories of children being forced to take the throne early on in their life and how damaging that decision turned out to be not just for the country but for the child as well. He was glad that his Grandmother remained steadfast and strong. There was also Lillia. Lillia, despite his constant antics, was always a guiding hand for Malleus in things he did not understand. Even now, Lillia would lend an ear whenever Malleus had a question about social interaction. Whether he would get a straight answer or a joke, that was just up to the older fae. 

“I have some people I consider that important.” Malleus looks up with you, “How about you, child of man?”

Your eyes remained fixed on the stars. 

You nod, “I do.” 

He laughs, “Is it your first year friends? I am sure Sebek would be glad to hear you say that.” 

“He would yell in my face before telling me he felt the same, you know how he is.” 

You two share a giggle before letting silence take over once again. “But it isn’t like that. The way I love Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel and Sebek is different from what I’m talking about.” 

Malleus watches your eyes shine under the bright stars, some of them being reflected on your irises as you tilt your head and lean back to let your legs stretch out. 

“I’m talking about a person who you can’t live without, you know?” 

“I’m afraid I might need a bit more of an explanation.” 

You shrug, “I can’t fully explain it without sounding crazy but…imagine you one day find yourself completely alone. There is not one single person who understands what you are going through nor do they bother because they might believe that it is too hard to comprehend. You find yourself so alone that you start getting used to that loneliness.” 

The way your eyes sadden are not lost on him, copying your movements and leaning back so that he can stretch out as well. With how you are both positioned, your fingers are almost brushing. 

That wouldn’t do. 

You continue talking, not paying attention to how Malleus places his hand over yours. 

“But one day someone comes in and changes everything.” 

He lets himself feel the fluttering in his heart, having lost himself to this feeling a long time ago. The way his heart would beat faster when you smiled, when you laughed, how you would approach him without fear. From what Lillia had said, this was something akin to falling in love with someone. When asked who it was he was falling in love with, Malleus simply shook his head and avoided answering the question. 

What he felt for you was not for anyone else to know. 

“They just ‘get’ you.” you smile and close your eyes, “Everything thought you have, they somehow complete it. Long distances become shorter when you are with them and for a brief moment time just...stops. You find yourself yearning for this person and wonder if they think about you the same way, to the point of losing sleep. You want to be to them what they are to you.” 

You tilt your head towards him. 

“Am I making any sense?” 

Malleus nods and sits up, “More than enough.” 

He stares into your eyes, your color reflected back on his as he instinctively leans closer towards you. You were building up to something, he could feel it. The feelings you described, they were identical to the ones he felt for you. It hadn’t been that long since you came into his life but he couldn’t see himself not popping by Ramshackle dorm every night to share these talks with you. Malleus wasn’t necessarily that attached to you when you two first talked but the more you sought him out the more he opened himself up for you. 

Your conversations, your little adventures, your attention. 

It was all slowly consuming him and making him realize that you were no longer a human but his human. 

The question slipped out of him faster than he could think of it. 

“Who do you speak so highly of?” 

You turn to look at him, your body leaning towards him as well that he allowed himself to dwell in his imagination for a few seconds. His own body covering yours as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer and asking him to take you with him the moment he graduated from this place. 

“It’s kinda what I wanted to talk about with you tonight.” you sit up with him and grin excitedly, “Remember what I told you about Crowley trying to find a way home for me?” 

He would answer your plea, taking your hand and kissing your palm before his lips made his way up your arm. 

“Well...he finally found it.” 

Malleus is pulled out his fantasy as he blinks twice, your smile shining just as bright as the stars above despite the awful revelation you had just given him. 

“I’m going home, Malleus.” 

You used his name. A part of him hoped that you would use his name when you two were in a much different and more favorable situation but you had just used his name to stab him in the heart with your wonderful news. 

“I was just saying all this because--I can’t believe I’m telling you this--before I came here I had these feelings about this person. They are everything to me but I was almost afraid to admit it? And this distance just...it just solidified what I felt for them.” 

He has to stop himself from reaching out to you and grabbing your wrist, thinking that the moment you got too far he would lose you forever. 

“Crowley says that I am going to be able to go back next week. So I’m just preparing myself to tell them everything I felt.” You turn to him and hold out your hand to help him stand up, one of the many things that Malleus loved that you did solely because he had an excuse to touch you. 

“I think a part of me just wanted to share this with you because I trust you. We’ve talked like this for so long that I think I just...tell you everything.” you smile sheepishly, “Which I hope you don’t mind, I did just spring it out of nowhere.” 

You were leaving him. 

“Tsunotarou?” 

You were leaving him for someone else. 

“Malleus?” 

You were leaving and he couldn’t stop it. You had these sorts of feelings for someone else and he couldn’t stop it. You opened him up and you were going to close him as if you were able to make the decision without any repercussions. You weren’t theirs, you also weren’t yours, you were his---

A hand shakes him from his thoughts as he focuses in on your eyes, his heart melting when he sees panic in them. 

“What’s wrong? Are you okay? What did I do?” 

He shakes his head and smiles as he takes your hand so you both could stand up. 

“Nothing.” Malleus pats your head, your size difference being made apparent to him even more than before, “I guess this is goodbye?” 

“No need to make it dramatic.” you lean into his touch, like a pet to their owner, “I’ll find some way for us to keep in contact. And if there isn’t--well then I will make one.” 

“I feel the same.” 

Malleus looks down and digs into his school jacket, smiling when you make a comment about this being a goodbye present. He puts a finger to his lips before pulling out a spool of thread, the top of the spool decorated with a sharp needle. “Give me your hand, child of man.”��

You nod and smile, doing as he told. “Is this going to be a blood pact of sorts? You don’t seem like the type, Tsunatarou~” 

He chuckles, “It is just a customary practice in the Valley of Thorns. Something that I believe will make our connection unbreakable.” 

Malleus brings your finger closer, the tip touching the spool as he expertly pricked your finger. You hiss for a second before smiling as you wave your finger. “Strangest friendship ritual ever, but it is very you so I will gladly partake in it…” 

A feeling of vertigo overtakes you as you lose your footing, your eyes closing as you feel yourself fall to the ground but finding yourself pressed against something warm. 

“...Mal--?”

You try to look up at him but gasp softly when your legs are swept under you, Malleus picking you up bridal style as you feel your eyelids growing heavier. Almost as if it was a chore to keep them open. 

“A true unbreakable connection.” 

Malleus opens the door to Ramshackle quickly, looking behind to see if he would need to take care of any pests that had made their way to the old dorm. Without any in sight, he closed the door, the lights on Ramshackle’s doorstep snuffing themselves out as the smoke drifted up into the starry sky. 

-------------

“Fgnaaa~!” Grimm yawns as he floats towards Ramshackle, yawning as he rubbed at his tired eyelids. 

Hands roaming up and down your torso, slowly undoing buttons as your hands rested on his wrists. Sloppy kisses shared between two amateurs but in between said kiss there seemed to be a forced passion, a need for the person above you to communicate how much he had wanted you. He had been caught stealing some food from Monstro Lounge and Azul had put him to work just like before, it had been a redo of what happened in Octavinelle all over again. 

Wanted wasn’t the right word, needed was the way to describe how he was feeling. His mouth traveled from your lips to your neck, your mouth opening up to let out a soft moan but being quieted down by his fingers slipping inside so they could rub against your tongue. You could barely keep your eyes open but with how you were looking at him, it almost made him believe that you were the one that initiated this. 

“Hnng?” he looks to see the lights in Ramshackle are all off, his head tilting in curiosity. When did you start going to sleep this early? 

Legs parted, eyes looking away, your chest rising up and down as his fingers pressed deep inside of you to rub and prod at whatever he found. He used his other hand to turn your face, your eyes meeting as he whispers a couple of words. A veil is cast over your eyes as he feels you open up like a flower for him. Hips grinding down to meet his fingers, arms opening to welcome him closer, his name falling from your lips making him eager to finally show you how he felt about you.

Grimm opens the door and yawns as he makes his way to the kitchen, licking his lips as he imagined what you had cooked for dinner that night. However, the only thing he finds are three deluxe tuna cans and a note that certainly wasn’t in your handwriting. 

Your hold on him is tight, legs wrapped around his waist as he sinks deeper and deeper into you. Hands in his hair, going up his horns and then traveling down as he bit at the juncture between your neck and your shoulder blade in order to keep himself from pushing all the way inside. But your warmth was calling out to him, inviting him to push deeper and deeper until all you could feel was him and him alone. 

Even with the magic affecting your brain. 

“Don’t feel so good. Going to sleep early.” Grimm sits down on the counter and frowns as he opens one of the cans and starts munching down. 

“Say you love me…” 

You gasp as you feel him push your whole body up with his first thrust, the bed creaking in protest in your ears but no sound being heard outside of your door. 

Were you sick? Grimm takes a giant bite and hums as he thinks. With him being this tired he would immediately go up to the room you two shared together and cuddle himself on your chest but if you were sick…

“I love you! I love you I love you--Malleus--!” 

The sounds were all mixing together. Your moans, his groans, the protests from the bed and the wet slaps of his body meeting yours over and over again. You were so full, all the way up to  your throat that the words he so desperately wanted to hear were spilling out despite you not remembering thinking of them. You were thinking of nothing. Every time you tried to think about what you were doing a sharp pain would stop you, instead keeping you attentive to the pleasure the soon to be ruler of the Valley of Thorns was giving you. 

“You are mine, child of man. Body and soul...all of them mine!”

“Silly human. Getting sick like that. They should be taking care of themselves.” Grimm shakes his head as he keeps on eating the tasty treats you had left behind. If you had left something this good for him, he guessed he could forgive you. 

Your toes curled as you felt something warm gush inside, lips covering your own and drinking up all the sounds you were making. He whispered something into your ear but you couldn’t quite make out what he said. Something about heirs and a kingdom. Was he telling you a story? He pulled away to look into your eyes, your brain moving your hands so that they would cup his cheek. Your comfort seemed to stir something inside him as he brought you closer, your arms now wrapped around him as you rested your forehead on his shoulder. 

Ramshackle stayed silent throughout the night, the moon and stars shining light into each room. 

All except one. 

[we-are-so-close]

Promised Life

Yandere!Illumi x female reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: 18+; Minors do not interact, Angst, smut, yandere behavior, noncon, dubcon, implied death, kidnapping, forced marriage, oral (female receiving), vaginal sex, breeding (please let me know if I forgot something)

Author's Note: This is pretty dark. And very smut heavy. And the longest fic I've written so far. Very nervous about it.

======================================

The sound of cries from the baby monitor woke you and your husband.

“Aw, he’s been doing a lot better about sleeping through the night,” your husband’s groggy voice whispered in your ear.

“I know. I’ll go check on him,” you said as you tried to rub the sleep from your eyes.

“Love you, babe,” your husband kissed you on the back of your head.

“Yeah, yeah. I love you, too...Butt,” you teased as you threw on your nightgown.

You slowly crept into the baby’s room to see him standing up in his crib.

“Hey, buddy,” you cooed as you turned on one of the lights next to the rocking chair. As soon as he saw you, he started jumping up and down, hanging on to the side of the crib.

“What are you doing, silly boy? It’s time for bed,” you picked him up and kissed his sweet little head. You cradled him; his head in the crook of one of your elbows with your other arm supporting his back side. You rocked him back and forth, his eyes getting heavier and heavier as the time passed. Eventually, he was asleep in your arms. You placed a soft kiss on his head before carefully laying him back into his crib.

“Good night, my precious boy,” you whispered.

As soon as you turned the light off, a cold chill shot down your spine. It caused you to freeze right in place. You hadn’t felt this aura in years. You haven’t felt this since…

“No!” You gasped. You felt as though you were in a clouded haze. You couldn’t think clearly, your breathing started to quicken. As much as you tried to move, you couldn’t. The aura you felt before is getting stronger, thicker. It’s too hard for you to breathe. Dizziness takes over and you collapse to the ground. The last thing you saw before you faded out of consciousness was your child’s sweet sleeping face.

Your eyes slowly opened. Darkness. Darkness was all you could see. And pain was all you could feel. Your head felt as if it was being split open. You tried to move your arms to lift yourself up, but you weren’t able to move. You opened your mouth to scream, but nothing more than a murmur came out. Your chest began to rise and fall rapidly. A wave of nausea washed over you.

“No,” was all you could muster as the tears started to fall and the sobs began to choke you.

A shadow moved closer to you.

“Awake already?” a familiar yet cold voice asked. “I shouldn’t be surprised though, you are just as strong now as you were when you left me five years ago. Although, I was sure that you would have realized the poison that was slipped into your evening tea .”

“We...I-I didn’t…,” you struggled to get the words out. Your brain couldn’t begin to process where to start.

He took a seat next you on the bed where you laid. He began to rub your head.

“Shh, it’s okay. I forgive you for lying. And for running away. Now that you’ve come back to me, we can be a family...” He leaned in close to your ear and whispered, “...like you promised.”

Five years ago, you and Illumi had been engaged. You were in love with him and you were excited to start a family. However, there had been some complications. Before marrying into the Zoldyck family, tests had to be run. You passed all of them with ease. All of them except one. The doctors told you that all of their tests had come to the same conclusion: infertile. Your heart shattered. You fled the manor before you could even face Illumi with this information, the shame you felt was too overwhelming.

You moved as far away as you could and tried to make yourself disappear. You had wanted to live the rest of your life wallowing in your own self-pity. The previous life you had dreamed of was not going to happen. You had accepted that. And you thought Illumi accepted it, too. He didn’t come for you like you thought he might. In your mind, he had given up on you and you had put that part of your life behind you.

You weren’t expecting to fall in love with another man so quickly, get married so quickly, own a house together so quickly, and you most certainly were not expecting to get pregnant and have a beautiful baby boy so quickly. Everything you had ever wanted happened so quickly, and you had forgotten about the life you had once promised to someone else.

“Illu-Illumi. I-Where…” you breathed in hard. His face hovered just over yours.

“You’re home, ______,” he stated with a smile. “And here in a few hours, we will finally become man and wife.”

“But..but,” you squeaked out.

“I know how happy this must make you. But you can tell me when we exchange our vows. For now, I will leave you to gather your strength and get ready. Until then, my love.” He kissed your temple and walked away.

The head pain mixed with your attempts to speak and the gravity of this situation was too much for you. Exhaustion overtook you. The next time you opened your eyes, the room was bustling with servants. You could hear the quiet whispers from them upon seeing you wake up. A butler appeared in front of you. A familiar face. She was one of the butler’s that was originally assigned to you when you first planned on staying in the manor.

“______, it’s so nice to finally have you back. Now, sit up.”

“What?” you asked, still slightly confused.

“Oh, for goodness sake, let me help you.” She grabbed your arm and yanked you up. Upon standing, you could see that they had already changed you into a wedding dress. It was lace. Long-sleeved and backless. The dress of your dreams. You had once discussed with Illumi what your dress might look like.

“Master Illumi had this made just for you. The least you could do is stand upright.”

The poison you consumed was still taking its course through your body. Your head hurt slightly less and you were able to move, but you still needed support to stand.

The wedding itself was quite short. Illumi stood next to you for support, arm wrapped around your waist. The vows you spoke were ones that Illumi had written for you. And you knew better than to refuse to speak. Having your own free will was more important than words that meant nothing to you. You were well acquainted with his nen abilities. You saw how it affected the unfortunate souls that were on the other end of his attacks.

After you both took your turns saying the vows, you were pronounced husband and wife. He gave you a peck on the lips and then turned you to face everyone. Everyone clapped and you felt immense sadness. The tears in your eyes threatened to break the surface. Illumi enveloped you in his embrace. Your face was resting against his chest as the two of you danced slowly. You now had enough strength to speak in short sentences, so you tried to reason with this man.

“Illumi, this marriage isn’t binding. I’m already married. I-I have a family now,” you muttered in hopes that it would somehow change his mind.

“It’s already been taken care of, ______. There’s no need to bring it up again.”

A whimper escaped your lips. He pulled you away from his chest to look you in the eyes.

“Hm, I think it’s time we wrap this up. What do you say?” He wasn’t really looking for an answer from you. His mind was made up. After the song had ended, he announced to everyone that you were not feeling well and that both of you were turning in for the night. He carried you bridal style to his chambers.

He laid you on the bed and began undressing himself.

“When I found out why you left, I was more hurt than anything else. We could have figured something out, ______,” he stared stoically at the wall. “I was going to come find you, but I had some important family business come up. It took a little longer than expected, but I never forgot about you. And you did a decent job of hiding yourself. I only found you last year. And by then, you were married and with child. I wanted to take you back, right then and there. But I weighed my options and decided I would watch.”

A terrifying thought to realize that he’s been watching you for a year. Even more terrifying was that you hadn’t noticed.

“I grew angrier by the day just watching you live your silly little life. I wanted to just kill you all. But then I saw the bond you formed with that child. The way you cared for it was….endearing. It helped me to reaffirm why I wanted you as a partner all along.” He was completely undressed and now his focus was on you. “So, I watched you some more. I watched your interactions with the child and decided that now was the time to bring you back to where you belong.”

He ripped your dress, exposing your breasts and underwear. You moved your arms to cover yourself, but it was futile. He was much stronger than you, even if you weren’t poisoned. With one hand, he was able to wrangle your wrists together and pin them above your hand. The other hand was moving across your body, giving you goosebumps. His touch was surprisingly soft and warm for someone so cold and uncaring.

He caressed your breast and pinched your nipple, eliciting a response from you. He put the other nipple in his mouth and teased you with his tongue. He sucked on it and could feel you trying not to squirm underneath him. He released it with a loud POP! sound, echoing in the room. You tried to bury your face in your arm so you wouldn’t have to look at him. But he grabbed your face and turned your head toward him.

“If you were able to conceive a child with a non-nen user, then you can conceive a child with me. We will do this everyday until you are with child.”

A look of terror on your face was ignored by your new husband as he ripped your underwear off. He let go of your wrists so that he could better face your entrance. He spread your legs and began working quickly. He started circling your clit with his tongue. He’d use the tip of his tongue for the quick little circles, but then he’d switch it up and use the pad of his tongue to lick from your folds to your bud. He was sucking you when he inserted a finger. A gasp escaped from your lips and you could feel him smile.

He came up to face you, finger still moving in and out.

“You know, the one good thing from watching another man fuck you is that I learned what you like and what get’s you off.”

Once again, you were ashamed and tried to hide your face again.

“Remove your hands or I’ll move them for you.”

And once again, you were reminded of how you would rather do things of your own free will instead of having them done for you. You obliged and he went back down on you.

He continued to lap at your clit while inserting another finger. You were trying your best to push all of this out of your head, to not make a noise. But his fingers were moving against the spongy part of your wall. The friction from his fingers and the movement of his tongue was enough to bring you to your climax. Your walls tightened and fluttered around him while your juices flowed down his hand

“Good girl.”

He removed his fingers and brought them to your lips.

“Open.”

Again, you obliged and took his fingers in your mouth. You sucked and licked, cleaning yourself off of him. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth and his lips met yours. He kissed you with such intensity. It took you by surprise. The passion he was displaying was certainly unexpected.

His cock soon began to fill the empty feeling in your cunt. When you gasped, he forced his tongue into your mouth. Back and forth, back and forth, the girth stretched your walls. It was pleasurable, though you did not want to admit it.

He bit your bottom lip before he drew away. “______, you’re so tight. But you accept me so eagerly. We were made for each other.”

He slowly pushed his way further into you. When he bottomed out, you moaned.

“Illu, too much,” you cried.

“But you’re doing so well. You will get used to it.”

Illumi stared in your eyes as he slowly pumped in and out. You wanted to look away or close your eyes, but you simply couldn’t. His fingers were intertwined in your hair, his face hovering above yours.

“Illumi…” you whispered. His lips got caught up in yours once more.

He pulled his torsos away from yours and pushed your legs to your chest. You didn’t think he could go any deeper, but this position proved you wrong. Each thrust hitting your cervix, causing more pain than pleasure. You hadn’t realized that your hands had moved to act as a buffer between his thighs and your legs. Habit, you supposed.

“______,” he spoke forcefully. You realized your mistake.

“’m...sor...ry…” your speech was broken from the continuous thrusting. Your hands moved above your head. He threw your legs over his shoulders and leaned in closer to you. His pacing was becoming faster. You could see the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He was getting close. The thought of him cumming in you made your core burn. One of his hands began rubbing your sensitive bud. The stimulation was too much and you were creaming around his cock as you moaned out his name. Your walls fluttering around his cock was enough for him to reach his climax. Rope after rope of his seed filled your greedy hole. He was panting, something you can’t remember seeing before.

Your hand cupped his face. “I love you,” fell out of your mouth. Your eyes grew wide and a deep red crept across your cheeks. He smiled down at you.

“I know, my love.”

The two of you stayed still for a moment, except for his hips that continued to softly move against you. When he finally pulled out, a small whimper escaped your lips. He kissed your forehead.

Illumi carefully flipped you onto your side and spooned you. A strong arm caged your body against his, hand resting on your stomach. He kissed the back of your head.

“______, you fought the good fight. But you will not be able to overcome it. When you wake up tomorrow, all the pain of your previous life will be gone. Not even a distant memory. You will never have to relive those moments ever again. From now on, it will just be you, me, and the family that we create. Now it’s time to sleep, my love. You’ve had a busy day.”

Tears started trickling down your face. Your eyes grew heavy with sleep. It was indeed a busy day. Sadness overcame you, but you couldn't be sure why. You had just married the love of your life.

[infernalrevenge]

The Greatest Show

Fandom: Resident Evil 8: Village

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Rating: G

Summary: Donna and Angie attempt to cheer Reader up after a bad day.

Notes: A little bit of domesticity and comfort from our resident dollmaker. Yes, Reader is still a servant in the house while also being her partner -- because why not HAHAHA. Just thought this would be a fun silly thing to write.

----------

This day was not going the way you thought it would. Well, that was putting it nicely -- this day was going to shit.

It was bad enough that you had a hard time falling asleep last night and woke up in a sour mood, but then you had an argument with a new vendor at the village who not only exclaimed that there was no new shipment of vegetables that morning, but also had the gall to try and throw you out of the store under virtue that they "didn't want the freak servants of one of the freak lords tainting their good establishment." The fucking nerve!

When you got back to the manor empty-handed, fuming but attempting to prepare lunch (sans vegetables), you accidentally burned your hand on the hot stove. As if that wasn't bad enough, when you jumped back in pain, you knocked over a few plates onto the floor and had to clean all that up too. You had to complete all your other chores with just one usable hand, the other one wrapped in a loose bandage. Fantastic.

You wanted to scream. Just let out a long scream to let the frustration out.

But you didn't. You couldn't. You still had other things to do, and you weren't going to let a few setbacks ruin it all. You went about your day as usual -- or at least you tried to, because you didn't quite notice how you would grip onto cups a little tighter, with your jaw set and locked as your grit your teeth, and had a perpetual furrow in your brow that worried Donna and Angie.

"What's up with them?" the doll muttered as she watched you slam a tray down in the kitchen when you thought no one else was around.

Donna didn't reply, only looking at the tension you held in your posture -- like you were set to burst with just one wrong move.

Your thoughts were consumed with tasks to perform for the rest of the day, chanting "Just get through it, you'll be fine" over and over in your head like a mantra. You didn't want to worry Donna over such trivial matters. This was just one bad day. You were better than this! You could do this. Just get through it. Just push! Just do it!

It was close to evening when you found your last task for the day before supper: Tidying up the library. Maybe you'll see Donna and Angie there and they could help lift your spirits. Finally, something to look forward to! Angie would probably make some quip about your bandaged hand, and Donna would be winding down on the couch and picking out a movie to watch after supper while you could talk about something to take your mind off the stress. But when you were greeted with a dark and empty space, neither of them in sight, you only sighed in disappointment.

Just get through it, you'll be fine.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and blinked away the blurriness in your eyes, picking up the duster in the corner.

Just get through it, you'll be fine.

You looked up at the clock. Half an hour until supper. Right on time. You took a deep breath to calm yourself and headed for the kitchen.

You were already going through the menu in your head when you felt an insistent force collide onto your chest, nearly knocking you over.

"Angie?"

Donna wasn't with her, and didn't seem to be anywhere nearby either. She was merely floating on her own. "Y/N, just the person I'm lookin' for! Come on, I gotta show you something!" She seemed rather urgent and excited at the same time. What was she planning now?

She took your uninjured hand and started pulling.

"Wait, but I have to get ready for supper--”

"Supper schmupper, this is way more important!"

"But--”

Angie dragged you by the pant leg to the living room, leaving you no choice but to hop along and follow. There, you saw a table laying on its side covered in a shiny silky cloth, obscuring your view of what or who could be behind it. You could just barely see a familiar veil-clad head crouching underneath. Before you could ask, she yelled at you to sit down on the short stool in front of the set up.

"Angie, what's going on?"

"You'll see, I promise. Now be quiet, the show's about to start!"

With that, she waddled away behind the table, seemingly greeted by a chorus of soft giggles. You tucked your knees close to your chest and waited for the commotion to settle down... whatever this was. You were used to Angie's antics at this point, but what kind of show was she talking--

Suddenly, three puppets dressed like the lords popped up from behind the table, with another one looking like a smaller replica of Angie. They all had cutesy and somewhat exaggerated features, completely made out of felt, cloth, and stuffing. Like plushies.

What the...?

"Don't be sad, Y/N!" they said in unison, their voices remarkably similar to each respective lord, if not much higher in pitch.

"Welcome to the village, we're so glad you're here! Turn that frown upside down and give us a cheer!" they sang, each of the dolls moving along to the beat they made.

"Donna, Angie, w-what..." you started, but they kept singing. You weren't quite sure who exactly might be providing these voices -- the dolls themselves, maybe even Donna -- but you were getting more and more amused by the second.

After their short number, introducing each lord to you (Big Sister Dimi, Mr. Heisenberg, Moreau the Fish Man, and Angie, as you recall), they proceeded with the show proper. Apparently that song wasn't all the two of them had up their sleeves.

"Okay, everyone! We have something very important to do!" the doll that looked like Angie spoke up (probably played by Angie herself) "How do we cheer up a loved one?"

"A loved one?" Doll-Moreau repeated.

"Yes! When someone we care about is sad, we should help in any way we can to cheer them up, right?"

"Right!" Doll-Dimitrescu agreed.

You felt a small smile start to crack your facade. Was this all for you?

"But how do we do that?" Doll-Heisenberg chimed in.

"Well what are things that they like? What makes them happy?" Doll-Moreau asked, who turned to Doll-Angie.

"They like cookies! Chocolate chip are their favorite!"

As if on cue, you felt something tug on your leg, and you looked down to see a porcelain doll in a sailor suit lifting up a plate of cookies to you, littered with chunks of chocolate in the dough. "Thank you," you said softly, giving the little one a gentle pat on the head before they ran off back behind the table. You placed the plate on your lap and started to nibble on one as the show went on.

"What else can we do to make them happy?"

"They also like tea with their cookies!"

You could just barely hear someone whisper "Tea? Ew, why not milk?" before they were swiftly hushed. On cue again, another doll emerged with a cup of hot tea for you. You whispered another thanks before they went back, taking a sip of your drink.

"We can sing their favorite songs!" Doll-Heisenberg started trying to sing before Doll-Dimitrescu interfered with a swift knock to his head. "Not with your voice, you can't."

That was a little mean, but you couldn't help but laugh anyway. You would've choked on your tea if you had been drinking it still.

"Why don't we ask them?" Doll-Angie said, turning to face the audience -- you. "What would make you happy, Y/N?"

The smile on your face only widened, tapping a finger on your chin as you made a show of thinking deeply. Might as well play along if they put in so much effort. "Well, what would make me happy is to have my lovely girlfriend here to share these cookies with."

"You heard 'em, Donna, get over there!" The real Angie peeped from behind the table, with the puppet lords cheering on as well as she emerged from her hiding place. You didn't even need to see under her veil to know she was blushing madly at the attention, even though it was just you and the dolls in her company right now.

You moved the plate of cookies from your lap to make room for her. "Y/N..." she was about to protest, and you pouted in response, giving your best puppy dog impression and opening your arms. "I thought you wanted to cheer me up, love?"

With a sigh and a shake of her head, she settled herself on your lap, your arms wrapped around her waist to keep her steady. You looked up at her fondly and pulled her against you -- it suddenly felt like the day's worries had melted away, and all that mattered was having the woman you loved so close to you. That in itself was a great comfort.

Angie seemed to have taken the reins now, the show getting louder and more chaotic as it went on -- the dialogue was reminiscent of the banter you had with her, and some jokes were made at the expense of the other lords (and sometimes Donna), much to her embarrassment. You rested your chin on her shoulder and couldn't help but laugh along.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," Donna whispered, tilting her head slightly to look at you.

"You... noticed then?" Your shoulders sagged, head weighing heavier onto hers, feeling like you wanted to hide.

"I did. It was a little hard not to." She gently took your bandaged hand in hers, pressing a tender kiss onto it. "But I didn't want to stand by and not do something about it, so... I hope this was okay."

You felt your heart swell with affection for her -- when did you get so lucky to have such a thoughtful woman by your side? "More than okay. This was very sweet of you and Angie."

A moment passed before Donna spoke again, "I just want you to know that... if there's anything you want to talk about, anything at all, know that I'm here for you, love. Always."

You could almost feel a tear come to your eye at that, "I'll keep that in mind."

You caught a glimpse of her smile at this angle, "You know I'd do anything to see you happy."

And she could see yours, "You already do."

.

.

.

(After learning of the existence of these "lord puppets", it became a game between you and Angie to hide them in plain sight whenever each lord would come visit the estate and bet on how long it took for them to notice it.

Lord Heisenberg almost never seemed to see his -- you weren't sure if he just didn't care to look around, or found it once and opted to ignore it, muttering something about it being "creepy".

Lord Moreau took a while to find his too, but when he did, you couldn't forget the look of joy and flattery on his face. It was quite adorable, and it turned to how quickly he could find the doll in a new room instead.

Lady Dimitrescu never visited, but when you and Donna went over to her castle, you always made sure to bring it with you. You would catch her daughters trying to hide their snickers when you would just stand around carrying the doll like Donna did with Angie, but whenever the lady tried to find out why, she never thought to look at you to see the commotion. Your girlfriend sometimes scolded you for it, but Angie always had a high five ready for you at the end of every visit.)

[n0wornever]

Remember Me - Luke Patterson x Reader

“So I have this idea where the reader died with the boys she's like their friend/fan/manager type stuff but like she has this crush on Luke since forever but never acted up on it and so when they met Julie and stuff the boys kind of neglect her because they were so focused on making the band and stuff and she also sees the chemistry between Luke and Julie. After that she went and met Willie where they talked about their unfinished business and like the reader knows her unfinished business and it's not Luke...”

So this is....the saddest piece I’ve ever written, sorry in advance

It had been about two months since Y/N and the boys were planted in Julie Molina’s life. In that short period of time, Luke, Alex, and Reggie were able to creatively connect with the girl and start to play music again. As much as she loved to watch the boys succeed, she couldn’t help but feel a pain in her chest.

As the boys grew closer to Julie, Y/N slipped into the background. Unable to contribute musically and her death making it impossible for her to help with the marketing piece she used to take on, she was often relegated to an audience member and cheerleader. She didn’t mind encouraging her boys, but she couldn’t help but feel like an outsider from the group.

As she sat on the white sand, she looked out at the open water, listening to water whip around. A jolt pushed her back a few feet, leaving her breathless. As she came back from the sudden pain, she thought about what Willie had said to Alex about completing their unfinished business. With the physical pain of whatever Caleb ejected into their system, and the hidden pain her chest, she was aware of the fact that she couldn’t last long. 

She knew she needed to talk to someone about it. Her best friend had been the one she turned to when she felt her lowest. She had hesitated to say anything to him before because looked so happy with this second chance. He was writing and singing again, and most importantly, he was smiling again. She had ignored the fast beating of her heart when he grabbed her hand in excitement over the Phantoms’ first gig and definitely ignored the ache in her chest when she saw the way that Julie and Luke sang with each other on the stage. However, she knew this feeling in her gut wouldn’t go away with her letting it build inside, so she was finally going to rip off that bandaid. 

She snapped her fingers and was instantly brought back to the garage. She looked around the garage and didn’t see anyone initially. As she waited, she started to hear the muffled sound of voices outside the door. She walked over, opening the door a crack and peeking outside. She saw Luke and Julie, a soft smile across his face as he looked at her. One she once thought was reserved for her. She swallowed hard as she listened.

“Julie, you’re incredible, please talk to me. You know that you can tell me anything, right?” 

The girl looked up at him with wide eyes and a sweet smile. They moved to try to connect hands, his slipping through hers. She turned to face the house and he smiled at her side profile.

“This is an interesting little relationship you and I have…”

Y/N felt tears bubble toward the surface as she watched the pure encounter in front of her. She had felt like she had been replaced for a while now, but this was the physical proof she was looking for. She slid the door closed and fell against it, letting silent tears fall from her face for a moment before snapping her fingers again.

She landed in the middle of the quiet dance floor of Caleb’s club. She heard the sound of tires wheeling toward her and turned to see Willie racing her way. He slid up to meet her, picking up his board in his hand and smiling at her.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” 

She clutched her wrist in her opposite hand, refusing to meet his eyes. She felt his hand grab hers and she finally met his gaze, unable to stop the tears from flowing. 

“What’s going on?” He pressed, his eyebrows raised in concern. 

She let go of his hand and moved hers to wipe the tears away. “I just wanted to talk to you about something.” She shoved her hands in her pockets as she looked up at him. 

He sighed, leading her over to the table. He sat his board on the chair next to him and turned to face her. She took a deep breath before speaking again. 

“You know how you said that by completing your unfinished business you could pass on…”

“Uh-huh…” He said slowly, one eyebrow raising at her. 

She rubbed the back of her neck “I was wondering...how do you find out what that is exactly...to do that…”

“Y/N have you talked to the boys-”

She stopped him, holding a hand out to his face. “I am certain it doesn’t have anything to do with them.” He stared at her blankly “You know that. We talked about how their scheduled performance will probably be the anecdote for them. That won’t work for me… I need to do this alone” 

He nodded at her, waiting a moment before talking again “Okay, so let’s think about this…. Do you have anyone that you have unresolved issues with? Anyone that you might have left on bad terms with?”

She thought hard about this question. There were many people that she never received clarity from, but one stuck out. Her mom and her were never really on great terms. She remembered the last argument they had the last night before she left for the Sunset Curve show. Her mom had been frustrated with her slipping grades and her continued focus on the boys’ career instead of her own. 

What really broke her was her mom’s stance that Luke “wasn’t good enough for her” and that she was wasting her time on him. The screaming match that followed this comment had left Y/N’s face red and her heart racing as she screamed ‘I hate you’ at her mother and slammed the door as she left.

She regretted that the moment she said it. She knew her mom was just looking out for her, that she wanted the best for her daughter, and was genuinely worried about her. She knew she didn’t like Luke, but it wasn’t because she disliked him, she felt like the boy was leading her daughter on and didn’t want her heart to hurt anymore. Her mom was there the nights she cried when Luke would go on dates with other girls or when he would cancel plans last minute. Her mom would console her into the early hours of her morning. Although they didn’t always see eye to eye, her mom cared about her and loved her more than anyone she ever knew. 

She felt her chest get heavier the longer she thought about that moment. She met Willie’s eyes again, placing her hands on the table as she told him the story. 

“I think I know what I need to do, thanks, Wille.” 

The right side of his lips rose at her, grabbing her hands and squeezing them. “You sure that this is what you want?” 

She nodded, standing up. She wrapped the flannel she stole from Luke this morning and pulled it over her shoulders. The pair exchanged a hug and a last goodbye before she poofed out of the room. As she opened her eyes, she was met by a scene she was all too familiar with. The tree was already decorated for the Christmas holiday, the dining room set the way her mom always did even though they rarely ate there. She walked forward, entering the living room. That is when she saw her, she almost cried at the sight of the grey-haired woman, knitting in her favorite chair. As she approached her and watched her stoically watching the screen in front of her, she shook from the emotion that fell from her body. Y/N tried to wave her hand in front of her face, but the woman did not react to the movement. She watched her for another moment before she walked over to the table.

She saw the pen and notepad on the table and concentrated on them. She exhaled as she was able to hold the pen in her hand. She touched the notepad, pressing the ink to the page. The words flew like water from her as the pen hit the paper. She got to the end and thought carefully before she wrote “Your Sunshine” at the end in neat cursive. She ripped the paper from the rest and folded into a perfect square. She held it up to her and kissed it gently. She walked to the kitchen, placing the note next to the coffee machine that she’d know the woman would eventually wander to. She looked around the room one more time before stepping through the back door. 

She sat down on the outside steps and took a deep breath. She rested her elbows on her knees and brought her hands up to cover her face. She finally took a moment to let go, crying into her hands, the tears collecting in her palm. She knew that she couldn’t bear to evaporate into thin air or whatever would happen at her home. She felt like that would be like her mom losing her twice, even if she didn’t see her. 

She snapped her fingers and heard the familiar noise of the waves around her. She let her eyes set on the water furthest from her. Sitting in silence as the grey day consumed her. 

Later that night

Luke’s body drew a subtle hue as he hugged Julie, feeling the strength reenter his body after a near-death after their last performance. The band hugged each other closely, spinning around in a circle at the opportunity for another chance to be around each other. As they separated, Luke looked around the room with wide eyes.

“Hey, where’s Y/N, I know she’s not formally a part of the band...but maybe this will work for her too?”

He looked over to the chair where he normally found her reading and didn’t see her lamp on. He ran over to the other side of the room by the stereo and found nothing. He ran his fingers through his hair as he sprinted back over to his bandmates. 

He jogged back to his bandmates, scratching his head “Did she say she was going somewhere tonight?” 

Before any of them could answer, they heard the turn of wheels near the entrance of the garage. They turned to see the long-haired skater frantically trying to catch his breath. His eyes darted between all of the boys eyes before he met Luke’s, fighting the tears he already felt coming. 

“Willie, what’s going on?” Alex asked, approaching the boy.

Willie looked up at Alex with tears welling in the corners of his eyes. He bit down on his bottom lip before speaking to the group.

“She didn’t want me to tell you guys, but my heart can’t take you all not knowing. I think Y/N is gone.”

Luke scoffed, pointing at the empty room behind him “Yeah, I just tried to look for her-”

Wille interrupted him, swallowing hard “No...she’s gone gone.” 

Luke’s face moved to a scowl, approaching the man with his fists balled “What do you mean? What the hell did you do?”

Wille pressed backward, and Alex intervened, pushing against Luke’s chest to separate the boys. The skater put a hand on Alex’s shoulder and moved him out of the way to meet Luke’s angry expression again.

“I didn’t do anything. SHE came to me this afternoon and asked about completing unfinished business. She told me she had to do this. She said something about it being her last hope.” Luke felt his eyes fill with water. He turned away from the group and slammed his hand against the wall, knowing well that it would bruise his knuckles.  

He screamed out in anguish before moving back over to her seat on the couch. His bandmates watched as he terrorized the room, ripping papers and pushing over furniture. Willie moved forward to try to console him but Alex’s arm rose, blocking the boy from walking forward. Alex nodded at his bandmates and Willie, the four of them leaving the boy alone in the room. 

Luke noticed a neat little square of paper sitting on top of the last book she read. He picked it up and saw his name written in her perfect penmanship. he sat down in her chair and wiped his tears aways on his ruffled top, steadying his breathing before unraveling the piece of paper. 

“Luke,

I didn’t want to do this, but I think leaving will be the best thing for my heart. I hope that your work with Julie gives you and the boys the second chance that you all deserve. I have never been prouder of you and no one in this world and afterlife deserves another shot of happiness like you do. I hope Julie takes care of your heart because I know that you deserve so much love,  I hope she’s willing to give that to you for as long as she can. Thank you for being my first friend, my first ‘boss’, and....my first love. I hope you never forget me because I know that it will be very difficult for me to forget you.

Love,

Your Sugar, Y/N”

He didn’t notice that he was crying until a few rogue tears hit the paper, drenching the words. He read the words “first love” several more times before folding it back up into her perfect square. He brought the note up to his lips and kissed it gently before holding it to where his heart used to beat. He looked up at the ceiling and whispered “I love you so much, I’m so sorry Sugar” to the air around him, letting the tears continue to fall as he sat in silence.

.

.

.

.

Tag list: @xplrreylo​ @lovesanimals​, @anythingandeverythingfandom​, @crybabyddl​, @oswin05​, @joshy-obx​, @lukeys-giggle​, @bumbleberry-pie​ @kiss-themoongoodbye​  @marinettepotterandplagg​, @lolychu​, @bathtimejish​, @dasexydevitt13​ @musicconversedance​, @txrii​  @bestdressedandstressed​ @daisiesforlacey​  @epikskool​  @bookfrog247​ @carleywhittaker​ @princessvader15​ @rudysbay​ @spooky-season-bitch

[dumbikawa]

Being Stressed About Exams & HQ Boys Comforting You

GN!Reader | Comfort/Fluff | Warnings: stressed reader

Characters: Atsumu, Oikawa

A/n: This is extremely self-indulgent as school has been kicking my butt and the future post-graduation is very terrifying lol

ATSUMU

You stare at the computer in front of you, the text you’re supposed to read for class beginning to swim together as your eyes fill with tears. Everything is happening too fast and you feel completely unprepared to take any of it on. What if you spent all of this time and money on schooling only to fail so close to the end? What if you finally do finish, but then can’t find a job in your field? Should you have studied something else? The questions become more exhausting and constant the closer it gets to exams. 

Small droplets roll off your cheeks and begin to pool on your keyboard. You haphazardly wipe them away before powering off the computer and tucking it back in your bag. Out of sight, out of mind, you figure. It’s not like there’s any use in trying to finish it tonight when you can already feel another wave of stress induced tears coming on. Those have also become a regular thing.

You click the volume button on your phone so that the sounds of music fill the room before leaning back in the desk chair, testing the limits of how far you can recline before gravity takes over. Atsumu had made this study playlist for you when he first noticed how stressed you were. It contained a mixture of your favorite songs, his favorite songs, and a few ‘motivational’ songs he pulled from his work-out playlists. It was a bit of a weird Frankenstein mash up with the large variety of genres, but it quickly became one of your studying must haves.

Over the sound of the music, you couldn’t hear the shower click off and the door to the bathroom swinging open. When Atsumu steps out, he sees you sitting where he’d left you, although, in a more dangerous position than you’d been in before as he notices the way the desk char teeters back and forth. His attention is quickly caught by the music choice, though, recognizing one of the songs playing as a favorite of his he added to the playlist he made for you a couple weeks ago. A smile breaks through his face as he hurriedly jumps into a pair of sweatpants before approaching your quiet figure.

As he comes up behind you, though, he notices a slight glisten upon your cheeks and a few fresh tears that tumble from your closed eyes. His upturned lips quickly sink as worry floods through him. Exams had been taking a toll on you, it wasn’t hard to tell, but he would never get used to seeing you cry.

“Baby,” he whispers, gently wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “What can I do for ya? Food? Cuddles? Cry it out?” You nod, resting the chair back on the ground and practically launching yourself into his arms.

Atsumu catches you with ease, his strong arms holding you against his chest. His hand rubs up and down your spine, sending shivers racing down you back, but there's no ulterior motive to his gentle touches. He continues the soft touches as he guides you to the bed, only letting you go for a second before allowing you to bury yourself in his side again.

“What if I can’t do it?” you whisper, trailing your fingers across Atsumu's toned chest. “I’ve studied for so long, but what if it doesn’t work out? What if--What if I don’t actually know anything and I crash and burn and--”

Atsumu shushes you gently, placing a few comforting kisses to your forehead. He notices your breathing beginning to grow heavier as your anxiety takes over. There's a few moments of silence as you try to match your breathing to his, the two of you taking slow, deep breaths in sync.

“The future might be unsure and stressful, but I know you’re going to do your best and make it work. All you can do is continue to work towards your goals and handle everything as it comes. Not to mention, I’m always going to be here to remind you of how strong you are even if you don’t see it.”

A new wave of tears begins as his words echo through your ears. You bury your face in his chest as your arms wrap around his waist in an attempt to pull yourself as close to him as you physically can be. Somehow he knew exactly what you needed to hear and a part of you wonders if he’s ever repeated those sentiments to himself when things felt unsure.

He continues to whisper reassurances as you fully relax against him, your tears finally beginning to dry up. You lift your head and offer him a weak smile.

“Thanks for letting me cry on your abs,” you sniffle, allowing yourself to truly laugh.

Atsumu feels lighter as he watches you smile and joke, hopefully being able to forget about the more stressful parts of life for a while as he holds you close. There’s been countless times where you eased his worries about the future, so he’s just happy that he can return the favor and create a safe space where you’re allowed to simply be.

OIKAWA

The cup in your hand is warm and comforting as you trudge towards your bedroom, a sense of dread washing over you as soon as your eyes land upon the laptop you left sitting open on the bed. With finals coming up, you thought it would be a good idea to transfer the notes you had written down during lectures onto your computer, figuring it would make them easier to access and that the process of going back through the information would be a good way to ensure you remember the material.

What you didn’t realize, however, is how absolutely time consuming and exhausting it was going to be. Your neck hurts from constantly looking back and forth between the paper and computer screen, your back hurts because somewhere along the way you abandoned any semblance of healthy posture and decided to go full cave gremlin in the way you hunched over your work, and instead of absorbing the information for a second time it seemed as if your brain had completely abandoned you and gone on autopilot. Shoving the computer off the bed and taking a nap feels like the best course of action right now, but you know if you stop now there’s no way you’re going to want to finish later.

Begrudgingly, you settle back onto the bed and take a large swig of coffee before stretching your fingers and placing them back on the keyboard. It couldn’t take that much longer right? All you have to do is push through and get it done.

And, for the next few hours, that’s what you do. You jump back in where you left off and race through the next few, gruelingly long chapters. The daylight outside quickly dwindles away until you’re forced to turn on the bedside lamp when you realize the sun has sunk far below the horizon and is beginning to cast bizarre shadows around the room. It was no bother, though, because you’re so close to being done. The issue is that neither your brain nor your body could keep up anymore.

Your fingers keep hitting the wrong keys, typing made up words that have you constantly backspacing and starting sentences over again for a third of even a fourth time. The breaking point comes when you go to take a sip of your now cold coffee and look back at the screen after attempting to type an entire paragraph from your notes in one go. Little did you know your finger placement was off, yet again, and the entire paragraph is an unreadable mess that even spell check doesn’t want to touch.

The tears that sting your eyes make you feel stupid. It was entirely too dumb to cry over something as superficial as misspellings that could be easily fixed and cold coffee. But once the tears start they won’t stop. Suddenly, you’re not crying over the notes or even school work in general. You’re crying about the crushing weight of change that's soon to come once you finish with classes and how impossible everything has begun to feel.

You’re too exhausted to focus on anything anymore, letting the hot tears run down your cheeks freely, which is why you don’t hear the rushed footsteps of your boyfriend who could hear your hiccuping breaths from down the hall. 

He doesn’t say anything when he sees you curled up on the bed, your face buried in your arms. Oikawa sits on the ground closest to you and lays his head near yours as he begins to run his slender fingers through your hair. It doesn't take a psychic to tell you've been stressed with the quickly approaching exams, and from the collection of notes littered all around to the half closed computer the dots practically connect themselves.

The slight dip on the bed near your head alerts you to his presence, but you don't move. His hands guiding themselves over your scalp is quick to relax your body, but your mind feels like it's about to burst any moment as the thoughts continue to race.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispers against your temple, planting soft kisses after every word, “and you deserve to take a break. Remember when you used to have to tell me that all the time?" The feeling of his quiet laughter against your skin makes you smile, along with the memories of simpler times before either of you had barely begun to grasp how harsh the world could be.

"I picked up dinner for us, it was an apology for coming home late," he admits, kissing the top of your head. "But let's go heat it up and you can either tell me everything you're worried about or we can try to forget all about it for now and watch a movie. I'd really like it if you talked about it eventually, though. I know I'm not going to be able to fix it all, but that doesn't mean I can't try."

You turn your head to the side, exposing your tear stained cheeks that are quickly wiped away by Oikawa's calloused thumbs.

"I will," you say, voice heavy. "For now could you just hold me?" There isn't a second of hesitation as Oikawa slips his arms beneath your figure and presses you tightly against him.

"Movie it is," he announces, laying you on the couch with the remotes so that you could put on whatever you want. Your brain would never stop the constant anxious thoughts, but losing yourself in those chocolate brown eyes made it easy to imagine a future where it all works out somehow. Little do you know, Oikawa sees the same thing reflected in your eyes as he wonders about the right time, perhaps a couple years from now when you've both settled down in your careers, when he can finally buy that ring he's been looking at.

[scfttwice]

think of me

> jeongyeon's hiatus puts jina into another bad day, but her members, including jeongyeon herself, plan to turn that around.

mina's hiatus was hard on the entirety of the group. after nearly four years of being idols together, it was the first time they had to do a concert, attend schedules, and promote their comeback as nine members instead of ten for such an extended period. the absence of a single member might have seemed trivial, but it sure did leave an impact on the fans, the staff, and the rest of twice especially. although they understood that it was what was best for mina, they missed her terribly. so when she finally returned, everyone was ecstatic.

they didn't expect another member hiatus to happen so soon.

as someone who was there to experience the emptiness of twice without mina and understood perfectly how it affected the group, jeongyeon made the decision to take her own hiatus with a heavy heart. she had discussed it with jihyo beforehand, then with the agency, and finally with her other members. they were devastated, to say the least, but they knew a break was what jeongyeon needed and deserved, so they supported her choice nonetheless.

they were going to wait for her, no matter what.

jina, as she had done with mina, spent the first day without jeongyeon sulking. they were in the midst of practicing in preparation for promoting their next comeback which was just around the corner, and while the general mood of the practice room was gloomy, jina displayed it the most.

she didn't talk to anyone that day. she just practiced, and practiced, and practiced, as if she was using it as a distraction from the lack of one person in the room, until her chest was heaving for air. her members, albeit concerned, knew not to approach her yet. she had been in a similar state before, back when mina wasn't around. they understood that she needed time, so that was what they were giving her.

when they returned to their dorms late that night, only then did jina's exhaustion hit her. after quickly washing up, she went straight into her room and fell onto her bed, letting her soft blanket engulf her. with a deep sigh, she turned her head to face the wall.

there, leaning against the wall right next to her, was the stuffed dinosaur toy jeongyeon had given her years ago. she reached out to pick up the toy and observe it, smiling crookedly as she recalled the memory.

“jina, look! i got you something,” jeongyeon had announced one day after she returned to the dorms from an outing with her older sister, seungyeon. jina curiously accepted the paper bag from jeongyeon and peeked inside, smiling widely as she pulled out a stuffed dinosaur from it. “it's so cute!” she exclaimed while hugging the toy tightly to her chest.

“i figured you'd like it,” jeongyeon said with a chuckle of amusement from watching the maknae. “i thought it was fitting since you call me dino unnie a lot these days. so whenever you'd look at it or hug it, you'd think of me. and remember that no matter what happens, i'll always be by your side.”

another sigh escaped jina's lips, before she pulled the toy to her chest, hugging it tightly. “i miss you,” she muttered against the soft fabric of the toy. then suddenly, she heard the ding of a notification come from her phone. she picked it up from her nightstand and saw that it was a text message from dahyun.

“jina, come on out. let's have dinner,” the text read.

in all honesty, jina did not feel like eating, even though she hadn't eaten anything since breakfast many hours ago except for an energy bar during lunch break earlier. ironically she was the one who often reminded her members to eat their meals, but she couldn't help it, she simply lacked the appetite to consume any proper food.

however, she figured she had avoided her members enough for the day, and might as well go and talk to dahyun, chaeyoung, and tzuyu even if she didn't want to eat.

her whole body felt heavier than usual as she pushed herself off of her bed and walked out of her room to make her way to the living room of the dorm she shared with the other maknae's. she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion when she picked up the sound of loud chatter coming from up ahead. stepping out of the hallway, her eyes widened in surprise when she reached her destination to find all eight of the rest of twice there.

all kinds of food were set up on the coffee table, ranging from tteokbokki to gejang, along with two large bottles of cola. the girls, who were just starting to pass around plates and utensils, sat around the table, with an empty spot saved for jina between momo and tzuyu. and across from the empty spot, nayeon sat holding her phone...

...with jeongyeon on a video call.

“jina, there you are!” chaeyoung exclaimed happily when she saw jina standing by the hallway, drawing the others' attention to the korean-japanese girl as well. “come on, sit,” momo invited her while patting the floor between herself and tzuyu.

although she was still trying to process what was happening, jina wordlessly shuffled towards her group and sat down in her designated spot. her eyes immediately fell on nayeon, or more accurately, the phone she was holding.

“hi, jina! i was wondering where you were!” jeongyeon greeted from the other end of the video call. jina could clearly see her on the screen, as she smiled widely and held up a hand to give a small wave. “dino unnie...” jina managed to breathe out, swallowing back a sob. she was feeling a tiny bit overwhelmed by being able to see her unnie after such a draining day.

“hey, jag-eun yong, i hope you're not beating yourself up like you did the last time,” jeongyeon said, her tone serious but her voice soft and gentle. “i'm gonna be fine, you know i'm a tough girl, right? i'll be back before you know it...so don't worry too much, okay? plus, you can always call me whenever you miss me. or...or hug your jeonggeu.”

jina wasn't able to form a coherent sentence, so instead of verbally answering, she nodded in response, all the while holding back tears. jina didn't want jeongyeon worrying about her, especially if it's because she's worried about jeongyeon. “that's my good dragon.”

“i heard you didn't eat much today,” jeongyeon continued. “so let's eat dinner together. all ten of us.”

with that, tzuyu passed jina a plate, and the nine girls in the dorm began to dig into the food, while jeongyeon ate her own at her place. with jeongyeon staying on the phone throughout the entire time, the ten of them were able to enjoy their meal and talk together, as if all ten of them weren't apart in the first place.

i nearly forgot to post this

this one doesn't touch on the topic of anxiety as much as the mina one, but still if anyone thinks this shouldn't be posted please let me know.

[nastybuckybarnes]

Monsters  -  Four

Pairing: Dark!Bucky X Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a man who just wants to do better. But he can’t stop the monster from coming out every now and then. As a last and hopeless attempt at calming The Winter Soldier, SHIELD finds him something they figured would help. An innocent young woman with not a lot going for her. Or, The Winter Soldiers newest victim.

Warnings: Angst, Smut, Language, Fluff, Sickness, Minor Injuries, Trigger warning kinda but not as bad as the last chapter

Word Count: 2.2K

A/n: here you go! I say fuck a posting schedule lol

THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT!!!

~*~

You sleep for a long time.

Nearly three days.

Bucky grows increasingly worried with each day that goes by that you don’t open your eyes. It gets to the point where he’s tempted to call a doctor, but he has no idea how he would explain it to them.

You finally wake up, in the afternoon of the third day, and Bucky is so relieved he could cry.

“Hey,” he whispers, helping you sit up when he sees you start to struggle. You look around curiously, confused until your eyes land on the gauze wrapped around your arms.

You look up at him, bottom lip wobbling, and he shakes his head, shushing you.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.” During the days when you were unconscious, it was a struggle to keep the soldier at bay. He won the fight every night though, the guilt weighing heavier than the desire to fuck.

“Why didn't you let me die?” You whimper, sorrow in your eyes. He rests his forehead against your shoulder and sighs.

“You called me a monster, and I got mad because I didn’t want you to be right. And then I proved your point. I just... the monster is there, inside of me. I can usually keep him at bay but... I know it’s not an excuse, and I may never make it up to you, but I didn’t want to hurt you the way that I did. I... it’s like I wasn’t in control of my own hands.” You don’t reply, keeping your eyes on your arms.

“I’m gonna go make you some soup. You’ve been asleep for three days. You need to eat. And drink. Okay?” You nod glumly, still emotionally numb as your mind tries to block out everything that happened.

Bucky’s only gone for a few minutes before he returns with a steaming bowl of soup and a plastic cup full of water. He hands you the water first, and your hands shake as you grab it. You take a small sip the grimace as your stomach flips.

“I know you probably don’t want to, but you’ve gotta eat just a little bit. Okay?” You nod and let him spoon feed you the soup. It’s good. Chicken noodle, from what you can tell, but no matter how good it tastes or how warm it feels going down, your stomach doesn’t want it.

You gag, hand coming up to cover your mouth, and Bucky curses, putting the soup on the side table and grabbing you in his arms. He rushes into the bathroom but he’s not fast enough. What little you ate comes rushing back up, spewing out of your mouth and all over yourself and a little on him.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying not to get too grossed out.

Your head lolls back, eyes rolling as a dizzy spell overwhelms you. He sets you down carefully on the counter, peeling the sweater off of you and tossing it into the hamper in the corner. You take shallow breaths, body aching.

He turns the shower on then rids himself of his clothes before doing the same to you. The two of you are naked in no time, and then he’s bringing you into the shower, the water a little too cool for your liking, but you don’t have it in you to complain.

He holds you upright, hands supporting your weight as the water pelts down on the two of you. You feel like everything is spinning, so you lay your head against his chest and take deep breaths in through your mouth. He presses a kiss to the top of your head and rubs your back gently.

“You’re okay.” He grabs a loofa and squirts some body wash on it, then starts gently washing your body.

His actions are innocent enough until he gets between your legs. It’s like you can sense the switch when he goes from Bucky to Soldier.

His hands grip you just a little firmer, his breathing is a little harder, his eyes dark and slightly glazed over. He pushes you against the wall gingerly, and you’re surprised by how gentle he’s being.

He hikes your legs up, one knee held over each of his arms. You lie there, half-conscious as the water rains down on you.

He slides his cock through your folds a few times before impaling you, stretching you on his thick length. He grunts softly in your ear, muttering softly in Russian as he fucks you. His thrusts aren't rough and hard, they’re long and precise, each one making your cunt instinctively clench on him.

You keep your eyes closed, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep, but he keeps fucking you until he cums, spilling inside of you with a low groan. He stays sheathed inside of you, palms splayed on the tile by your hips, and you close your eyes tightly as another dizzy spell hits you.

He sighs and you know that Bucky is back. He pulls out of you and carefully lowers you to the ground before picking you up again and taking you out of the shower. He sits you on the counter once more, turns the shower off, then dries your body with a fluffy grey towel.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. You don’t reply. You don’t think you could speak if you wanted to. Your head won’t stop spinning.

He picks you up and brings you into his room again, laying you down on the bed and tucking you in. “I’m gonna go get you a garbage can, in case you need to go again,” he whispers, smoothing your hair around your face.

Your eyes are already closed and he sighs, hating the fact that he caused this. What’s worse, is that the soldier took over while he was trying to make it up to you. He took advantage of your vulnerable state.

He sets a new cup of water on the nightstand and a garbage can on the floor, hoping that you get better soon.

~*~

You do.

It’s nearly two weeks of consuming next to no food or water and throwing up multiple times a day, but you eventually start recovering, and for that, he couldn’t be more grateful.

You’re sitting in his bed, sipping on some tea, when he comes into the room.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, hand resting on your knee through the blanket. You shrug, not meeting his gaze.

“I’m sorry. I... I don’t think I’ll ever be able to apologize enough.” You shrug again.

“I can tell.” He’s confused and you sigh, “I can tell when it’s not you. When it’s... him.” He raises his eyebrows and you look down, chewing your bottom lip for a moment before you muster up enough courage to speak.

“When... when you touch me... it’s softer. You might say mean things, but your hands don’t squeeze too hard. And when it’s him touching me... he holds me really really tight.” He raises his eyebrows, having had no idea that that was a thing.

“So I know when it’s you and when it’s him. And I know that you haven’t touched me since...” you trail off and he nods, scratching the nape of his neck. “It wasn’t all me,” he whispers again, trying to explain himself. “It was me at first, but then... it’s like he was controlling me.” You nod, not looking up.

“I don’t remember all of it, but I know your voice sounded different. Angrier.” He cups your cheek gently, cursing himself when you flinch away.

“Since then I haven’t been nearly as bad,” he whispers. “I can tell. The soldier... when he comes now he’s more gentle. He’s not nearly as rough as before.” He nods, happy that this is at least working.

You lean back against the headboard and close your eyes, exhausted beyond belief.

“It’s gonna take some time for you to heal up fully, but you’re making great progress. In a few days, you’ll be eating solid’s again. And then you’ll be up and walking around again.” You nod, eager to be healthy again.

He looks from your eyes to your lips, then back down, licking his lips.

“When I picked you... I didn't think they’d really go through with it. I thought it would’ve been another plan that never got to see the light of day. But then you were here and... I... I was in shock. You’re even more beautiful in person. And you’re so strong and resilient.” You look up, eyes finding his pretty pink lips.

“I know I haven’t been good to you, but can I please kiss you?” You nod meekly, eyes fluttering closed as he presses his lips to yours in a gentle kiss.

It’s everything a kiss with him should be, and so much more. His hands rest on your neck, thumbs gently rubbing the corner of your jaw, right below your ears.

You pull away after a moment more and rest your forehead against his, a small smile gracing your lips.

“This is how things should be,” he whispers, stroking your hair gently. You nod, hands coming up to hold onto his wrists.

“Yeah.” The word is whispered so softly from your lips, that if he didn’t have enhanced hearing, he wouldn’t have heard it.

He presses another gentle kiss to your lips then pulls away. “You should rest,” he whispers, leaning back to look at you. You hesitantly meet his eyes, and when you don’t see the darkness and anger that was there before, you nod.

“Yeah, okay.” You lay down and relax, smiling to yourself as he gently traces over your cheek, his fingers soft and feather-light, a drastic change from his touches three weeks ago.

~*~

It’s a week later when you can walk again, a week after that when he feels comfortable enough to leave you alone, with access to very few things.

He’s on the jet home, mind on you as the rest of the team celebrates a mission gone well.

“You were great out there, James,” Natasha says with a smile, patting his shoulder. He grins at her, cheeks turning pink.

“I see your new remedy is working?” Steve asks, grinning from ear to ear. Bucky scratches his neck and nods. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Nat looks between the two super-soldiers, brows furrowed.

“What kind of remedy is that?” Bucky shakes his head at the redhead. “Just something Fury recommended. Didn’t think I could do it but here we are.” She nods, looking up into his eyes with a gentle smile.

“I’m glad it’s working. It’s good to see you back to normal. I missed the normal you.” He nods, sighing softly as his mind goes to you. “Yeah, I’ve missed it too.” She rests her hand on his shoulder then sighs, letting it slide off and rest in front of her.

“You’re coming tonight, right?” He furrows his brows in confusion. “What’s tonight?”

“Stark’s throwing a little celebration. It’s just gonna be us there. But he wants to celebrate such a clean streak of missions.” He mulls it over, then eventually decides that you’ll be fine if he stays out for another night. You’ve proven that you’re not going to harm yourself anymore, and you seem like you’re starting to genuinely enjoy the arrangement.

“It’d mean a lot to me if you came,” She says, being vulnerable for a moment with him. He raises his eyebrows then nods, knowing not to take her vulnerability lightly. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”

The night consists of soft music, card games, and drinks, all courtesy of one Tony Stark. Bucky spends a fair portion of the night beside Natasha, the two of them laughing and talking together for hours as they each have drink after drink.  

Eventually, when things start winding down and Bucky’s walking her to her room, he brings up a painful topic.

“That night… when I tried to… you know... “ She looks up at him, smiling gently as he tries to express his feelings. “I’m sorry. It… it wasn’t me. And I know that that’s no excuse, but I mean it. But I’m starting to control the monster more.” She cups his cheeks, leans up on her toes, and presses a kiss to his lips.

“I know you’d never willingly hurt me. And I don’t blame you for what the soldier does. I know that the two of you aren’t the same person.” He wraps his arms around her and kisses her deeper, tongue brushing against her plump pink lips. She pulls him backwards until they’re in her room, and closes the door, panting against his mouth as his hands wander over her form.

Her curves are inviting, and he can’t help but grab her ass. She moans into his mouth and the two of them tumble to the bed, Bucky ready to apologize physically for all the things the soldier did, the things that he’s been wanting to do since he first laid eyes on her.

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Trust Fall

As bizarre as they seem, I really like the video inserts that Darby does from time to time. So I used one of them as kind of an inspiration for this.

Pairing: Darby Allin x OFC (reader)

Word count: 2,968

Content advisory: Nothing. Maybe not for people with a fear of heights.

Looking down at the rippling green waters from the edge of the railway bridge, you’re consumed with one thought: you do not want to jump.

“I don’t think I can do this,” you gasp, nearly choking on your words.

“I’ve done it a dozen times. You’ll be fine, I promise. It doesn’t even hurt as long as you make sure you don’t belly flop.”

Darby rubs the base of your back and smiles with a sort of kindness you’ve never seen from him. He leans in and gently bumps his body against yours, taking the opportunity to wrap his arm around you.

“I’d never get you to do anything if I thought you might get hurt. And you said you wanted to try it.”

Yes, you think, it’s true. Of all the crazy stunts you’d seen him do, the one that had fascinated you the most was being dropped off this bridge in a bag. He’d outright refused to let you do that, of course, but he’d said you could try the jump without the cloth coffin and you’d been so excited you’d hardly been able to contain yourself.

What the hell had you been thinking?

What you’d been thinking was that Darby’s almost insane appetite for danger and adventure was intoxicating. He was intoxicating. The one thing he didn’t seem to rush into was any kind of relationship with a woman. He’d been married and it hadn’t worked out. They were on good terms but the specter of failure still hung over him. He’d always been able to make things work in his life. But that was because he’d spent most of his life keeping a distance from other people.

The two of you had been tiptoeing around each other for months. The first time you met him, it was all you could do to keep your jaw from dropping because it was like someone had created the man you’d been searching for your entire life. And despite his reticence, he’d quickly warmed to you. His initial shyness couldn’t hide the curious, hopeful looks he would cast at you when he thought you weren’t looking.

Still, if the two of you were interested in each other, you’d managed to take a pretty circuitous route to get there. From soft looks and smiles while you both tried to maintain your cool, you’d managed to become friends. Good friends. Everyone else at AEW might think that there was something going on because the two of you were thick as thieves, but the truth is that you’d just become very close. He’d told you about the angst that arrived in the aftermath of his divorce. You’d told him about how you’d just stepped away from dating and relationships when your wrestling career started to take off. You weren’t patient enough to coddle men and reassure them that they were masculine enough even though you could kick their ass. It was tiresome.

So you and Darby had become close friends, talking music and film and road stories and all the while, there’d been this flirtatious tension between you. You touched more than friends should. You were more wrapped up in each other than friends should be. Neither of you seemed in the least interested in meeting anyone else and on the couple of occasions when someone had insisted you give things a try by going on a date with their friend, the two of you had ended up in a cafe giggling about the pointlessness of dating by the end of the night.

By this point, your attraction to him had morphed into a kind of threat, something that could damage the wonderful relationship you already had, so you did what you could to ignore it, sublimating the desire to feel his naked body against yours into a desire to do all sorts of crazy things you’d never had the confidence to do before. Like jumping off a train bridge into a lazy river under the burning heat of the summer sun.

You wondered if he’d be disappointed in you if you backed out. No, you think, he’d never rushed you into anything. If you wanted to bail, he’d just make a face like you were a silly goose but then take your hand and the two of you would walk back to his place and watch movies until you fell asleep. He’d probably even let you pick the movies.

But as you watch the sparkling waters below, as terrifying as it seems, there is a part of you that very much wants to jump. It’s been ages since you’ve dived into water like this, although you used to do it often enough when you were a kid. Darby does shit like this all the time and every time you watch him, in person or on video, your chest burns with envy. Oh to be able to do something that wild.

Sure, you’ve taken him for rides on your motorcycle and he’s gushed about the adrenaline rush it gives him. But when you’re riding, even though it doesn’t always seem that way to a passenger, you know how to be safe. Maybe to other people it seems like you’re taking a risk but you know better. This, you remind yourself, taking in the scent of iron and oil that radiates from the tracks around you, is taking a risk. This is doing something outside your comfort zone.

“I promise,” he assures you, “it’s not as far as you think it is. Divers do this all the time.”

“Divers know what they’re doing.”

“You know what you’re doing. Jump off feet first and let yourself hit the water the same way. Seriously, you have a better chance of being run down by the train than hurting yourself in the water.”

“What?” you nearly shriek, staring wild-eyed at him. “I thought you said the train hardly ever came!”

“Only once a day,” he grins. “Once late in the afternoon.”

“It’s past three. How late in the afternoon are we talking?”

“I’ve never really timed it.”

You turn back to the river below and you swear it’s gotten further away than it was.

“Hey,” he says softly, taking your hand in his, “if you don’t want to do it, don’t worry. It’s not something that normal people would do.”

“You think I’m normal?” you respond, slightly hurt.

“No. I think you’re exceptional. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t normal things that you’re afraid of.”

“I’m not afraid,” you insist. You look down once again and feel your stomach lurch. “Ok, I’m afraid. But I still feel like I want to try it.”

“You sure? Because it’s not like you can start and then change your mind.”

You rest your hand on the hot railing, relishing its solidity. It’s not going to kill you. You’re in no danger here. You’re an excellent swimmer and have nothing to fear from the water. The space between is a few seconds, nothing more. A few adrenaline charged seconds, the sort of thing that you’re always chasing. And it’s something you feel might bring you closer to Darby. He won’t be disappointed in you if you back out. But if you go ahead, he’ll be able to see something in you that he hasn’t before, possibly something that you haven’t seen yourself. Somehow the jump will peel a layer off you like the skin of an onion.

“I’m gonna do it,” you assert.

You throw one leg over the railing ,grimacing at the heat of the metal against your thighs.

“No no.” He grasps your arm to make sure you don’t go any farther. “Wear as little as possible. Any clothes are going to weigh you down.”

You’re not wearing a lot but what he’s saying makes a lot of sense. And it’s not like you’re averse to the idea of getting undressed in front of him.

“I’ll meet you downstairs,” he jokes. “I’ll bring everything with me.”

You climb back onto the bridge and self-consciously start to peel off your clothing: your loose cotton shirt and the tank top underneath, your shorts and your sandals. You pause before deciding to remove your bra. The metal of its underwiring might not weigh you down but you can picture the impact forcing it up around your neck, or at least making you more uncomfortable.

Darby takes each item of clothing, averting his eyes even before you reveal your breasts. When you do, you can see his breathing grow heavier and more rapid. You’ve known almost since the beginning that he wants you the same as you want him. The question has always been whether or not you want each other enough to set aside the disheartening experiences you’ve had. Under no circumstances do you want to sacrifice what you’ve built. You just don’t know if there’s a way to keep it if you introduce that other element.

Once again, you climb ungracefully over the railing. You cling to it and stare at him, biting your lip as you feel the cool breeze wafting up from the river below. He sees the expression on your face and immediately grips your neck with one hand, his impossibly blue eyes locked on yours.

“You ok?”

“I don’t know,” you whimper.

“Still enough time for you to back out.”

“I don’t want to.”

And it’s true, you don’t. Whatever’s waiting for you at the end of your drop, you’re more eager to meet it than to cling to your own notions of safety.

“I’ll be down there. I can make it really fast so just swim until you see me. Everything will be ok, I promise.”

With that, he releases his grip and you turn to face your fate. Looking down makes you dizzy and so you stare up at the cloudless sky, right into the sun so that your vision is disrupted by colorless splotches. You close your eyes but the spots are still there. dancing inside your brain as you lean forward, sweaty hands sliding over the beam, flecks of paint and rust digging into your skin.

“You’ll be ok,” Darby murmurs from behind you. “Give me a head start?”

You nod without opening your eyes. This will be much easier if you can just convince yourself that the drop isn’t there, that you’re just going to let yourself go and you’ll be in the water immediately. But somehow, you can still tell. You can hear the distance. You can feel it in how the wind surrounds you. You are not near firm ground.

You turn and glance over your shoulder in time to see Darby retreating from the bridge and starting to scamper down the embankment like he’s being pursued by the devil. You know he won’t think poorly if you chicken out and just follow him but at the same time, you want this to happen. You feel like it’s going to change you, as silly as it seems.

The sun beats down on your face and you give yourself a few second to absorb the heat, to the point where all you want is to feel cool and clean. You surprise yourself by opening your eyes and although you can’t look down, you’re very aware of your position as you let go of the railing and hop forward just enough to allow yourself to clear the structure.

As soon as you’re falling, it’s like everything inside your body gets sucked up an out of you, like your soul is drifting away and you’re nothing but a petrified brain in a sack of skin plummeting. It’s only seconds but it feels like you’re dropping forever, the parts of yourself being pulled further apart at every inch.

When you hit the water, it’s like there’s an explosion around you and for a fraction of a second you think you’ve clipped a land mine. It’s just a huge roar and then immediately you’re underneath it, the sound gone, like you’ve suddenly gone deaf. The water is cold, colder than you’d imagined, cold enough that your heart stalls while it tries to adjust to everything you’ve just put it through.

Instinctively, you curl your legs up in case you’re closer to the bottom than you believed and then you just let yourself stay still until your body stops sinking. From there, you’re able to push yourself up with surprising ease, trying to keep a grip on your mind as it registers that your breath will not hold much longer. And even though you’re not as close to the bottom as you’d feared, it still seems to take you so long to push your way up to the surface, towards the sunlight that shimmers along the rippling water.

Your head breaks the surface and you immediately breathe in as deeply as you can, sputtering a little when some water gets in your throat. The air itself is an adventure you hadn’t planned on, burning in your chest. It takes you a moment to clear the water from your eyes and get your bearings but when you do, you see Darby moving along the side of the river, easily keeping pace with you and the current.

He waves and smiles when he sees that you’ve noticed him and then walks down into the water, up to his waist. You’re able to marshal control of your muscles and push yourself towards him. It’s not that you didn’t believe he’d be there for you but you’re still somehow pleasantly surprised to see him. You’re grinning as you get close and he grabs your arm to guide you to your feet.

“Follow me,” he tells you, holding both your hands and picking his way back through the mud as he guides you.

You’re a little embarrassed that you’re still gasping loudly but he doesn’t seem to notice it or find it odd.

“I… I don’t know…” you pant, your lungs aching with the effort.

“It’s ok. Give it a minute until you’re feeling better.”

He helps you into a small clearing in the foliage and removes his shirt, wiping the water off your face and softly wringing your hair. He still hangs on to your other hand but doesn’t look you in the eyes until he’s satisfied he’s dealt with the water as best he can.

The light bounces off the droplets of water clinging to your skin and his, which makes your vision grow starry. You give him a wan smile because you can tell your expression is a little off. He runs a calloused finger over your jaw, guiding your head so that you look back up at him.

“Are your ears ok?”

You giggle. “My ears?”

“You look a little dazed. Sometimes when you hit the water it can mess with your eardrums.”

“I thought you said I wouldn’t get hurt,” you tease.

“It’s nothing serious. Just one of those things you want to keep an eye on.”

He looks at you inquiringly and it’s a long moment before you realize he still expects you to answer his question.

“My ears are ok. They don’t hurt or anything.”

There’s an almost musical quality to the sounds of frogs and cicadas wafting through the woods, like you can hear notes in nature that you couldn’t before. Maybe your ears aren’t alright.

But it’s not just the sounds. It’s like you can see every ray of light piercing through the leaves, like the dirt and stones on the ground feel different than they did before. Even Darby seems different, like you’re seeing him in sharper focus, and you want to tell him but you can’t even figure out how to explain it, so you rest your hand on his arm, swirling your fingers lightly over his skin and smiling as you feel the fine hairs rise.

You can tell that he knows there’s something different from the way he looks back at you. He’s curious what’s going through your mind.

“I’m sorry if that sucked for you,” he says quietly. “It was a stupid stunt. I shouldn’t have pushed you into it.”

“You didn’t. And it didn’t suck. It was cool. Maybe not fun, really but… I liked it. I’m still liking it.”

With that, you give his arm a little tug and he obliges by moving closer. You’re still breathing deeply and rapidly, but it’s no longer just because of the jump.

“How do you feel?” He asks, his eyes focused on your lips.

You think about it for a moment but the answer is clear enough.

“Alive,” you whisper.

The two of you lean in until your lips just meet and you move them softly against each other, the dewy moisture and light pressure making your skin tingle. You take your time, allowing yourselves to savour each sensation, both of you perfectly in sync, never rushing the other, never pulling the other along. When you draw each other closer, it’s like that feeling of electricity that you get in your skin just before a thunderstorm breaks. Your tongues come together, exploring at the same leisurely pace, quiet sounds of pleasure emanating from both of you. He flicks the tip of his tongue along the roof of your mouth and you jump at the sensation, but you immediately pull him closer to you, running your nails ever so slowly down the back of his neck.

It’s very obvious that he’s excited and you are too, half drunk on the sounds and smells of the forest, your head still spinning like you haven’t stopped falling. But you have stopped falling. You’ve pulled yourself from the river and he’s gathered you into his arms and nothing has ever felt as real as the two of you savouring everything about it as you come together for the first time.

[nitewrighter]

Does Hanzo ever find out what Genji went through/what he was like during Blackwatch? If so, how does he react?

I think he does eventually, like... Genji lets him know that he was in a very difficult physical and emotional place with Blackwatch, and Hanzo’s able to pick up from Mercy that “Okay no, I don’t think you understand, it was really bad”--but she’s also fairly light on the details mostly for Genji’s sake like “Hey, I’m not going to tell you any more than Genji was comfortable with telling you.” And Zenyatta hangs back for the same reasons, and also he wasn’t there so he doesn’t want to distort the details from what Genji’s told him. So the one person Hanzo can actually get the full story from... is McCree.

Also this fic references the first meeting fic so yeah!

----

“Well?” Hanzo had one elbow resting on the bar. Music was faintly playing but it blended in with the humming murmur of the other patrons. Snowflakes were buffeting the glass of the windowpanes just outside and both of them had shrugged off their heavier coats. The bar itself had a homey, lived-in quality to it. Not dirty, but with a definite age to it that seemed to lend a further brightness to the bodies gliding through it and chatting. The icy Andean wind had heightened the redness of Hanzo’s nose and cheeks well before any alcohol had. It contrasted against the cold discernment of his dark brown eyes.

“I’m gonna answer your question with a question--” McCree started.

“Which isn’t an answer--”

McCree leaned back in his bar seat, folding his arms across himself. He almost looked sagely. “Are you asking this because you genuinely think it will help you get a gauge on your shit and move forward, or are you freaking out because things are going more okay than you think you deserve and feel a need to kick yourself square in the Rocky Mountain oysters?”

“Rocky Mountain--?”

“It’s this fried--I’m talking about--” McCree sighed and sipped his whiskey, “I’m saying you’re doing... you’re doing really well, Hanzo. You’re touching base with the team, reachin’ out, you seem to be sleeping and eating better, hell, you’re clutch on missions, but now you’re asking about this, and it worries me.”

“Why should it worry you?” Hanzo’s eyes narrowed.

“Because--y’know... I care about you. You’re a part of this team and I care about you... in a..” McCree cleared his throat, “Team-y way. And... you were stuck in a dark lonely place and I ain’t itchin’ to give you the means to go back there. ”

“But you can understand that the fact that I don’t have the full story distresses me more, can you not?” said Hanzo, “As well as the fact that knowing the more the truth of it is obscured with me, the worse I can assume the situation was.”

McCree scratched at his beard, frowning. “Yeah... yeah I can understand it--but I can also understand Mercy and Zen not spillin’ the beans on Genji’s account.”

“Mm...” Hanzo glanced off and sipped his own drink.

McCree twisted his glass slowly, “Then again, sometimes I think Reyes brought me on the team to begin with because I have a pretty high success rate with the whole, ‘Beg forgiveness before asking permission’ rate.”

Ana called you a charmer, the words almost slipped out of Hanzo but he wasn’t sure how they would land, so he held them in. Instead, Hanzo only mildly gestured at the bartender to refill McCree’s glass.

“Don’t think you’re getting it just because you’re gettin’ me drunk. It ain’t exactly a pretty story,” said McCree.

“I’m prepared,” said Hanzo.

McCree studied him a few moments longer, one hand still wrapped around his glass and one corner of his mouth pulled up with indecision before he closed his eyes and exhaled. “All right,” he said, “If only to keep you from kicking your own ass over what you don’t know.”

“I want you to start at the beginning,” said Hanzo, his stare steady.

“Well t’be fair, Blackwatch was casin’ Hanamura for months, even before your old man passed--er---my condolences--”

Hanzo snorted a little. “It’s... fine,” he said a bit awkwardly. He was more disarmed than really upset at the idea that McCree may have been far better versed in the activities of the Shimada Clan than he had really anticipated.

“Gérard, that is, our UN Attaché, had this whole thing about ‘pulling everything out to the light,’---And the fella was good at it. Could sniff out paper trails and track down dirty money like no other. The initial plan was to get Genji on possession charges and drag the whole clan out behind him. Your old man’s passin’--again, condolences--threw the whole schedule off though. And then we received additional intel that the Shimada dragons might be more.... uh... what’s the word for ‘unusual’ but it’s like... more business-y unusual?”

Hanzo shrugged.

“Un... Im... Uhhh.... Anomalous! That’s the word! Might be more anomalous than we thought and ‘warranting further investigation’ or whatever,” McCree seemed to be easing into the story now, plucking up details from debriefings, “SEP and all its affiliates had been more or less shut down post-Crisis, but there were still worries about human experimentation... strange abilities, and the like. And the dragon stories had been floating around your family for decades, but only when things got destabilized did we consider they might be more than stories. Then we got word that the wheels had been set in motion that the clan would kill Genji before we could get our hands on him--Arrest mission became extraction mission, and extraction mission became rescue mission. The time frame was so sudden we had to bring the Doc along because we thought she would be our best chance at saving him--She wasn’t in Blackwatch, you understand. Wasn’t too keen on undermining the Japanese government either. But... it turns out bringing her along was the right choice.”

Hanzo seemed to be maintaining a veneer of calm, but there was an unmistakeable new undercurrent of tension in his movements and expression as he sipped his own drink.

“You know what he looked like when you left him,” said McCree, “Do you really want me to go into the details there?”

“Yes,” said Hanzo.

McCree huffed and took another gulp of whiskey. The burn of alcohol rasped the first few words of his next sentence. “So it was me, Reyes, the Doc, and a handful of Blackwatch extraction medics touching down in Hanamura that night. Apparently the Shimada clan’s forces were decentralized from the castle. We infiltrated the castle grounds. Found a handful of your security already dead. Took out one more... left his body with the others. Didn’t have time to run a full investigation, or lock anything down. Finding Genji was the top priority. And we found him. Three limbs gone. Puddle of his own blood. Looked midway between... someone had dropped him in a garbage disposal but at the same time... not right--just... gone. The limbs were gone. The wounds were too clean but still bleedin’ out.”

Hanzo’s knuckles curled in, white and shaking as he took a steadying breath. “Consumed,” Hanzo said quietly, “The dragon consumed them.”

“I can stop--” McCree started.

“Finish what you start, Cowboy,” Hanzo’s voice was steady.

McCree swallowed. “I’d seen some fucked up shit under Reyes, but this... yeah, it was new. I kind of froze up, not quite scared, but just trying to make sense of it. But then I snapped out of it as the Doc rushed to him first. I had a vantage point in case other castle security showed up. Reyes was at the opening to that big-ass balcony so he could flag down our evac. So uh, what you need to understand here is that we uh... we actually had very little solid intel as to what the Shimada dragons were capable of.”

“...but I had left the scene well before this,” said Hanzo, trying to puzzle out the timeline of his own fleeing the castle grounds.

“Yeah it... wasn’t your dragon we saw,” said McCree, “See, the Doc, she had to do this... staff... defibrillation thing? I didn’t get a good look at it but Genji, he uh...started thrashin’ and this light sprang out of him. Bright green. Never seen anything like it. He was screaming. Next thing I know he’s grabbing Mercy’s neck.”

Hanzo flinched with some alertness. “What?”

“I mean--first instinct, I’m saying to Reyes, ‘Boss, I got a shot’--like, I know the mission was asset acquisition, but light show or not I wasn’t about to let him kill Angela, but then she hollers out ‘Don’t shoot him!’ And I’m stuck there looking to Reyes like, ‘You’re gonna override that, right?’ And... and Reyes was so calm... I--I could see him doing the math. Breaking people down to resources... breaking their deaths down to trade-offs...”

“You... thought you had to shoot Genji--” Hanzo’s brow was crinkling.

“If Reyes gave me the word,” McCree shrugged, then itched at the brim of his hat, “I never thought someone would hesitate on saving the doc like he was doing right there, though. But.... then she said something to Genji. Never asked what it was, but it seemed to calm him down before he passed out.”

“And you’re saying he grabbed her neck when they first met,” Hanzo’s eyes were narrowed, “But they’re...”

“Well, he was only half-conscious and in this full-on survival mode and she had just... jammed a huge amount of biotic-whatever into his chest. He didn’t know if she was helping or trying to... y’know it was like those times you nearly punched me in the face when I was trying to wake you up from those night terrors.”

“I’m sorry for that,” said Hanzo.

“Psh. If I had a nickel for every time someone took a swing at me out of some kind of traumatic reflex...” he smiled to try and make this seem more lighthearted than it actually was, but Hanzo seemed to still be processing everything, so McCree cleared his throat. “Word of advice, though, don’t make any ‘I guess you’re into that’ jokes with the doc,” he said with a nervous laugh, “No it uh... it took them both a while. I mean, there was this thing there, definitely, but yeah, they were both neck-deep in a whole bunch of shit for a while before they really acknowledged anything.”

“Did Genji take a swing at you?” asked Hanzo.

“Not outside of a Blackwatch sparring ring,” said McCree, “But Jesus, he was scary on the training floor. Still is, sometimes.” McCree paused for a few seconds. “He was obsessed with killing you, y’know. Taking down the whole clan and killing you. Every mission where he got a sniff of you, every mission he thought you might be there and you weren’t, he’d come back snarling.” 

Hanzo blinked a few times and glanced down. He knew it made sense, given the idea of justice their family had ingrained in them, but there was still an odd sting to the idea. But I’m his brother, he thought, but then he thought, But that didn’t stop me. 

McCree seemed to take Hanzo’s silence as permission to go on. “ I’d try to distract him... try to get his head out of his ass sometimes, but a lot of the time... you see any living thing in a state like that, all you can do is give it space. Genji did give us a decent amount of intel on the Shimada clan’s bigger operations... but when it came to actually getting in there... he was always the first one on the ground. As you can imagine, it was personal for him. There were a handful of bullshit ‘stakeouts’ in Japan where Genji would ditch me... I knew Reyes wasn’t telling me the whole story, then again, it wasn’t my job to know the whole story.” McCree sipped his drink. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t know what he was doing, though.”

“...killing heads of the clan,” Hanzo said quietly.

“Can’t exactly confirm or deny that but... yeah,” said McCree. A prickle of alarm seemed to go through him. “Look, I don’t want to kick off any more brother-killing fuckery--”

“You’re not, Jesse,” Hanzo’s voice was subdued, “I was the right hand of the clan... and the destruction wrought by Genji was, if anything, a product of my own actions.”

“Also his actions--He was fucking nightmare--I mean I liked him, but he was a fucking nightmare, sometimes. Lashed out--like... you didn’t really think of him as giving a shit about you with all that seething over the Shimada clan--- but then he’d know how to say something that hurts, and he knows exactly how it hurts, and you wouldn’t know if he learned how to hurt that bad from your family or just because he was hurtin’ that bad and---” McCree seemed to catch the alarmed look in Hanzo’s eyes, then took a steadying breath before sipping his drink again, “Look... this stuff... it’s all in the past. And he is a lot better now. And he is one of my best friends. Kind of wild how someone who hurt you that deeply can be a best friend like that, but... that’s kind of how life works. Kind of how this shit works when you don’t know if you’re coming back from that next mission. We’re all fucked up here. It’s about learning to take the fucked up parts of yourself and trying to make it into something that helps the people that mean something to you. ”

“The people that mean something to me...” Hanzo repeated quietly.  He remembered McCree’s words from his second night on the watchpoint. ‘We’re all just background noise to you. You’re just here so you can stop kicking your own ass after Genji.’ Then he remembered Genji’s words. ‘Well... you’ve been traveling the world for a decade... has there... been anyone? Anyone special? Anyone you loved?’

“...I feel like I’ve let that part of me atrophy,” Hanzo said quietly. Answering Genji’s question, not McCree’s words.

“Atrophy?” McCree repeated.

“When you don’t use a muscle for a long time and... it ceases to be able to functi--”

“I know what ‘Atrophy’ means--” McCree wasn’t making eye contact, “You let... caring about other people... atrophy,” he parsed, trying to trace out Hanzo’s thought process.

“Mm,” Hanzo took a sip of his own drink, “So while I was wandering in grief, Genji was consumed by pain and rage.”

“Which... he’s told you,” said McCree. 

“Well, yes, but he didn’t go into details,” said Hanzo, “I know, this might be difficult or painful to talk about, but I really do appreciate getting a more complete picture of what happened to him after my actions.” 

McCree tilted his own glass back and forth on the bar counter, letting the whiskey rock around the interior.“I know, but...don’t heap all this on yourself. Reyes always said he wanted the cockroach motherfuckers, and he was more than happy to let Genji snap and swear and lash out and burn the house down because that suited Blackwatch’s agenda better than, I dunno, therapy? Only when we got benched after the Venice incident did he yank in Genji’s leash, because hey, it turned out having a PTSD cyborg tearin’ around the base cussin’ people out wasn’t a good look for Blackwatch.” 

Hanzo huffed a little. There was an odd comfort in that. But then he paused, running over the course of McCree’s words in his mind. “...you keep bringing up Reyes,” Hanzo said, fixing his eyes on McCree.

“Sorry--I--I know this should be about Genji,” said McCree.

“No it... it gives some perspective,” said Hanzo, “You trusted Reyes, didn’t you?”

McCree’s mouth tightened for a few seconds before he drew in a short breath through his nostrils. “Yeah... yeah, I did. He just... I mean I’d keep telling myself I was my own person, that I did things with my own style, but so did he. So like... whether it’s ‘your own style’ from fuckin’ Santa Fe or Los Angeles... is there really that much of a difference? If you still picture yourself in their boots, give or take a decade or so?”

“Hm,” Hanzo was thoughtful at this, “I imagined myself in my father’s position so long that when everything came apart and I found myself wandering the world, dodging the clan’s assassins I felt... like a stranger.” 

“Kind of liked being a stranger,” said McCree with slight shrug, “Stranger’s from nowhere. Got nothing to prove.... guess it probably hits different if you got a whole... magical crime lord prince destiny thing, huh?”

“The dragon is not magical,” said Hanzo flatly, but a smile was tugging at his lips. 

“Debatable,” said McCree, “First of all: It’s a dragon.”

Hanzo snorted and a quiet pause passed between them. Not uncomfortable, but definitely tired, letting McCree’s words and all the pain and memory that came with them drift and dissipate into the warm air of the bar.

“...I could tell you more if you want,” said McCree, after a few beats. “I do have funnier stories... wasn’t all... ‘he was fucked up.’ And--Genji did seem to be getting better-ish towards the end there, once they put him on Tracer’s strike team... but by then Overwatch itself was coming apart.” He snorted. “I guess that’s kind of a running theme with this stuff.”

“I appreciate the offer,” said Hanzo with a slight chuckle. He paused. “Tracer’s strike team?”

“Well, she and Winston probably got more stories there than I do,” said McCree, “And maybe the doc, if it’s in good faith.” He sipped his drink. “You’re welcome to run off to try and ask them about it.”

“I think... this is enough for now,” said Hanzo. After a few beats he said, “You’re not... all background noise to me.”

“What?” said McCree.

“That... you said that on the second night,” said Hanzo, “It’s... it’s not that I don’t value life, or other people--I’m just... it’s been a very long time since I’ve worked with other people, since I’ve talked to other people on a regular basis like this, since I’ve stayed in one place this long, and...”  he trailed off, then took a sip of his own drink with some resolve, “I’m afraid,” he said, letting those words sit in the air for a few seconds, “I’m afraid of lending my abilities to another organization that’s used people to hurt other people and then tossed them aside. When your only connection to other people for most of your life was this twisted blood loyalty...” Hanzo trailed off.

“I’m scared of makin’ the same mistakes too, for what it’s worth,” said McCree, “I don’t think fear like that ever goes away.”

“Redemption’s a bitch?” said Hanzo with a slight smile.

McCree broke into chuckles. “You should swear more often. I feel like that’ll help.”

“You’ve sworn plenty for the both of us, tonight,” said Hanzo crisply, sipping his own drink.

“Still, I’m gonna make it a mission to get a ‘fuck’ out of you,” said McCree and Hanzo choked and sputtered. “I didn’t mean it like that! You know what I mean!” McCree was laughing as Hanzo’s attention was split between choking and laughing and desperately looking around for a napkin after spitting his drink. The bartender swooped by with a napkin and the laughs boiled down into chuckles as Hanzo cleaned up a bit. There was another pause then, that same settling of understanding.

“Thank you,” Hanzo said after a few beats.

“You already thanked me--don’t know what’s worth thanking about saying ‘hey your brother was fucked up and so were we.’”

“Honesty. I appreciate honesty.”

McCree smiled and then shrugged.“Hey--y’know, for all the shit I give you,” McCree started and trailed off, “What I said that night about... all of us being background noise... I know that.. that wasn’t really fair. You really didn’t know any of us and, y’know, as far as the general public is concerned, we’re a whole bunch of mercenary weirdoes doing vigilante shit.” 

“And Genji was the only person here I knew, and was really...” Hanzo sighed, “I suppose, I fixed him in my mind to be my last chance at humanity--and made myself out to be a monster to all of you in pursuing that.”

“Well... you’re doing better, I can tell you that much. And... y’know folks are warming up to you.”

“Except Angela,” said Hanzo, with a weary smile. 

“She needs time on that... I wouldn’t try to force it,” said McCree, “Baby steps and all that.” 

Hanzo huffed a little.

“Hey,” McCree lifted his glass, “To baby steps and runnin’ the hell away from all our old role models.”

“Indeed,” Hanzo clinked his glass against Genji’s. Both sipped their drinks and another pause passed over them. Hanzo felt McCree’s eyes on him and looked over at him.l

“Hey just so we’re clear,” McCree’s chin was in his hand, “I didn’t accidentally kick off some huge new bloody vengeance thing by telling you all this, right?”

“You did not,” said Hanzo with a wry smile.

“Oh thank god.” 

[stolen-pen-name23]

Can you do 15 with Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan? Thanks!

Hello Anon! Of course, I can! Thank you for the prompt // from these prompts. Prompts are open for now, but it will take me a while to get to all of them since I have about 20 sitting in my inbox at the moment oops.

Once again, I lack self-control. Here's 2.4k words on Ao3 or you can read the whole thing below the cut! Here ya go:

---

Please just shut up.

The stray thought was locked behind Obi-Wan’s shields, but he still felt bad for having it. It was not the senator’s fault that Obi-Wan’s head felt like it was being beaten rhythmically by a hammer.

Still, the senator droned on and on and his baritone voice reverberated through Obi-Wan’s head. He just wanted this mission to be over already.

He straightened and ignored the sideways glance Qui-Gon was aiming at him.

Obi-Wan tried to pay attention to the peace talks. He really did. But the fluorescent lights were blinding and even keeping his eyes open was a torturous experience.

Qui-Gon nudged against his shields — a question without the tangible form of words, but after the past few years of working with him, Obi-Wan knew exactly what he was asking.

He gave an imperceptible nod, assuring his Master that he’s alright. Or he will be. At least, he’ll be alright for now. He can complete the mission, which was all that really mattered anyway.

Obi-Wan told himself all of these things, though he was not finding himself all the convincing.

The words that were volleyed back and forth throughout the talks might as well have been in a different language for all Obi-Wan was able to glean from them. So lost was he, that he didn’t realize the senators were clearing out until Qui-Gon was gently squeezing his shoulder.

“What’s wrong, Obi-Wan?” he asked quietly.

“Are we done here?” Obi-Wan asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“No, not quite. The senators are taking a break before the final vote.”

“Oh.”

“Are you feeling alright?” Qui-Gon asked. Concern was evident in the furrow of his brow.

“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan said.

“You’re not. But if you’re not going to tell me what’s wrong, I’m not going to argue with you.”

Irritation cast itself from Qui-Gon’s side of their bond. Obi-Wan felt the pinpricks of shame color his cheeks. “I’m fine…” he murmured. “Just a little dizzy.”

The irritation vanished and was replaced with worry.

“I’ll fetch a healer.”

“No!” Obi-Wan said, his voice echoing loudly through the conference room. He tried to ignore the stares of the senators that lingered in the room. “No,” he whispered. “It’s not bad. It’s just a migraine. I can handle it.”

Qui-Gon hummed, his eyes scanning Obi-Wan’s body, looking for any indication that he was lying, or hiding parts of the truth. Seemingly finding nothing else amiss, he nodded. “Why don’t you go back to our room and rest? I’ll be there soon.”

“I can stay!” Obi-Wan insisted. “I can complete the mission.”

“The mission is already complete Padawan,” Qui-Gon said gently. “All we have left is the vote, which you do not have to be present for.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said again. He weighed his desire to be the dutiful Padawan against his desire to go lie down in a dark, silent room.

“Go,” Qui-Gon urged as if he could sense Obi-Wan weighing his options. “Get some rest, Obi-Wan.”

Decision made, Obi-Wan nodded. He regretted the motion as it sent his head spinning, but he steadied himself and made his way for the exit with his head held high and his shoulders straight.

As soon as he was in the empty hallway, he let the guise fall away. His shoulders slumped and his paces became uneven and unsure. He certainly hoped he was walking towards the guest rooms, but he could not be sure.

Ornate statues and billowing tapestries decorated every winding hallway he turned down. He would have liked to have stopped and admired the art were it not for the splitting headache and all-consuming dizziness. Every footstep he took seemed to reverberate through his whole body and pain echoed through every nerve ending.

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t see. His vision was tunneling and his stomach was turning and then he was falling, falling, falling down to the cold, marble floor.

The air fled his lungs at the shock of the impact and he gasped pathetically on the floor.

Get up.

His body did not obey his commands. Even if he did get up, Obi-Wan was forced to admit to himself that he was completely and thoroughly lost. He had no idea if he was going in the right direction or if he was even in the correct wing.

He did not know where he was.

It was quite embarrassing for a Jedi to be lost, Obi-Wan thought to himself. Normally, he would just follow his intuition, but his intuition was drowned underneath every wave of agony that crashed into him.

Get up.

Placing a palm on the cool tile, Obi-Wan tried to force himself to his feet, but everything was spinning. His shaky arms gave out and he fell hard back onto the floor.

He lay there, defeated. He couldn’t get up. He couldn’t do anything except feel everything.

A familiar voice, though it sounded more concerned than usual, was calling his name. The voice echoed from hallways away.

“Master,” Obi-Wan responded weakly. His voice did not carry like Qui-Gon’s, and the calling continued.

“Obi-Wan!” A pause, like he was awaiting a response. “Obi-Wan!”

“Master?” Obi-Wan called out again, his voice gaining a small amount of strength at the prospect of being found.

Footsteps thundered towards him and he curled up into a tight ball, covering his ears with his hands. The footsteps slowed and quieted.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said breathlessly. Warm hands were pulling at his own, pulling them away from his face, and Obi-Wan blinked up at Qui-Gon.

“Master? Where are we?”

“We’re in the western wing. What are you doing out here anyway? I told you to go to the room.”

“Tried to go to the room,” Obi-Wan said. “Couldn’t find it.”

“Yes, it seems you took a wrong turn somewhere, Padawan.”

“Didn’t know what way.”

“Clearly,” Qui-Gon said. “When I went to the room and you weren’t there…. Well, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Guilt only added to the nausea roiling in Obi-Wan’s stomach. “‘m sorry,” he said.

“It’s alright, I’ve found you.”

“Don’t feel good.”

This time, Qui-Gon was the one to look guilty. “Come on, Padawan. Let’s get you to bed.”

Before Obi-Wan could respond or even try to get up on his own again, he was being lifted into the air. He squeezed his eyes in a vain attempt to stop the spinning. “Don’t… don’t feel good,” he repeated, sounding like a youngling to his own ears, but no longer caring.

“I know, Padawan,” Qui-Gon soothed. “We’re almost there. You’ll be okay.”

“Hurts. My… my head...”

“I know. We’re almost there,” Qui-Gon repeated.

“Too old,” Obi-Wan mumbled.

“Are you actually calling me old right now?” Qui-Gon asked incredulously.

“No, no. Me. I’m too old. Fifteen. Too old to be carried around.”

“Hush. You are a padawan, my padawan, and you are ill. I will carry you as long as you need to be carried.”

“Still too old,” Obi-Wan muttered.

When they made it to their room, Qui-Gon gave him the dignity of standing on his own two feet while he unlocked the door.

Obi-Wan staggered into the room, Qui-Gon close to his side.

“What do you need, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon asked.

“I need…” Obi-Wan cut himself off as the nausea he’d been ignoring made itself known. He put a hand over his mouth and stumbled to the refresher. Collapsing to his knees, he leaned over the toilet and threw up the contents of his stomach.

Qui-Gon hovered over him like a shadow, unable to do anything except be there. Obi-Wan was grateful for that at least.

When he was done, Obi-Wan slumped over on the tile. He was getting quite sick of tile floors, though the cool temperature did feel nice on his forehead.

He felt Qui-Gon’s presence get farther away and he chanced a glance over to where he had been. “Master?”

Obi-Wan lay there, weakened and helpless, on the ground. Obi-Wan didn’t know how long he waited for but he closed his eyes and then opened them to see Qui-Gon crouched down by him, holding a change of clothes in hand.

“Here,” Qui-Gon said. “Get into something more comfortable and then you can get some sleep.”

“A’right,” Obi-Wan slurred, taking the soft sleep tunics in hand.

Qui-Gon left him alone again and Obi-Wan slowly, painfully eased his way into the fresh tunics. He shuffled out of the fresher, where Qui-Gon was waiting for him before he could fall over again.

He didn’t realize he had been picked up again until he was being set down in the plush bed.

“Thanks, Master,” Obi-Wan mumbled as his body finally let him get the healing rest it so badly needed.

****

Obi-Wan awoke to a dim room with a cool, wet rag on his forehead. He blinked tiredly and rubbed his eyes.

“You’re awake,” Qui-Gon observed plainly.

“How… how long was I asleep?”

“About 16 hours.”

“What?!” Obi-Wan exclaimed, sitting up quickly in bed. The wet rag dropped into his lap. His head spun at the quick movement, but after a moment, he realized the pain was not as intense as before.

“Easy, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said, gently pushing him back down. “You have not missed anything important.”

“We… we were supposed to go home,” Obi-Wan said.

“Yes, well, I didn’t want to put you through more travel, given the state you were in, and the government of this planet was kind enough to give us another two days in their senate guest quarters.”

“Oh, well I can go now. I’m feeling better. We don’t have to—”

“We can wait a little longer, Padawan. You may not feel as bad as you did, but you are still unwell. I can sense it.”

“I’m okay,” Obi-Wan said but there was no fight behind the words.

“I know. But there’s nothing wrong with taking a moment to rest when we need one.”

Obi-Wan’s cheeks flushed and he broke eye contact with Qui-Gon. They sat together in silence — Obi-Wan staring out into space and Qui-Gon messing with the sleeve of his robe.

“You’ve gotten taller,” Qui-Gon mused, looking back up at Obi-Wan.

“Have I?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Yes, you have. Heavier too. You’re much harder to carry around these days.”

“Sorry,” Obi-Wan said sheepishly. “I could have walked.”

“Oh really? Is that why I found you laying on the ground then?”

“I just needed a moment,” Obi-Wan said, feeling defensive.

“You needed more than that, Padawan.”

Obi-Wan looked down at his hands. He nervously ran his fingers along the seam of the blanket. It was blue and soft, and from the looks of it, expensive. Though it was made of a fine textile, it lacked the comfort and familiarity of his own bed with his own blankets, but it served its purpose well enough. Still, Obi-Wan wanted to go home more than he wanted almost anything else.

“This was a bad one wasn’t it?” Qui-Gon asked, breaking the silence between them.

Obi-Wan nodded slightly.

“They’ve been getting worse,” Qui-Gon observed.

It was true. Obi-Wan’s migraines had gone from random occurrences to routine events. They were always unpleasant, but this one was particularly debilitating.

“I… I think it’s because… well…” Obi-Wan trailed off.

“Because of what?”

Obi-Wan bit his lip. He didn’t want to say it. Saying it would make it real. Putting words to the images that plague his mind would lend validity to them — empower them. Obi-Wan just wanted to bury them.

“Tell me, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said.

“I’ve been having dreams… visions I think.”

Qui-Gon straightened. “Visions?”

“I… I don’t know. I think so.”

“Tell me about them,” Qui-Gon urged. “We can work through them together.”

Tears pricked Obi-Wan’s eyes but he blinked them away.

“Padawan,” Qui-Gon said. “Please, maybe I can help you.”

“Can you make them stop?” Obi-Wan asked. It was a childish ask, he knew, but he had to ask.

“No,” Qui-Gon said. “But I can help you try to understand them. I can help you meditate through them.”

This was not the answer Obi-Wan was looking for. He tried to rein his disappointment in behind his shields. He wanted them to just go away. But nothing was ever that simple for Obi-Wan.

“I see such terrible things,” Obi-Wan whispered, his voice cracking on the words. “Awful, terrible things.”

“Visions can be misleading, Padawan. Don’t put your faith in them.”

“What am I supposed to put my faith in?”

“The Force.”

“The Force is what gives me these visions,” Obi-Wan argued.

“And if your visions come to pass, you have to have faith that the Force will guide you through them.”

“I don’t want that. I don’t want to go through them at all.”

“And perhaps you won’t,” Qui-Gon said. “The future is in motion. You need to focus on what is around you — not that which is ahead.” He was so sure — so sure that the Force would help him chart his course, that his convictions began to ease Obi-Wan’s tired mind ever so slightly.

Even still, he clung to some of his doubts.

“It’s hard.” It was a lame response, Obi-Wan knew, but it was the only one he had.

“No one ever said the path of a Jedi was a simple one.” The familiar glint in Qui-Gon’s eye appeared — shining with the strength of his faith.

Obi-Wan tried to smile at that, but it came out as more of a grimace. “Guess not.”

“You don’t have to tell me what happens in your visions,” Qui-Gon said after a pause. “But if you ever want to, I promise I will do my best to help you through them. As a Jedi, you are never alone.”

“Of course, Master,” Obi-Wan said, swallowing thickly.

Obi-Wan didn’t like keeping things from his Master, but there was no way he was going to tell him about all the dark and terrible things he has been seeing flash behind his eyes. He was not going to tell him about the way he wakes up sweating and panting in the dead of night as though he had just been running for his life. He was not going to tell him the way he had mastered silent cries of despair so as not to pull Qui-Gon from his sleep. He was not going to tell him that in his visions, he is older, yes, but not old enough.

No. Much too young.

How could Obi-Wan tell him? How could he tell him about the visions that, if they were to come true, would mean that Qui-Gon would not have much longer to keep his promise?

He can’t tell him. He can’t.

If Obi-Wan kept his visions to himself, if he did not speak them into existence, then maybe, just maybe, his darkest dreams would remain just that: dreams.

[stutterfly]

Snow, Don’t Tell (M) | PJM

Granny Park’s Gossip:

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

       ❄  Word Count: 27.2k

       ❄ Pairing: Jimin x Reader

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

       ❄ Rating: 18+ / Explicit

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

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

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

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

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

Click. Click.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then again, maybe you think too much.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please,” he whines breathlessly, voice cracking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me help you,” he offers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So fucking good."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because you are.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you even listening to me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was an accident!” Jimin insists.

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

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

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

“That’s good--”

“And ‘Are you okay?!’”

“Sounds like you did fine---”

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

“Oh no.”

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

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

“Jeonggukie, it’s okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And Frizzle?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Take me away from my own brain.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You tilt your head, trying to get him to look at you, gaze remaining steady on his eyes until he meets it.

“No…”

“You matter. But you’re hard on yourself. Do I matter?”

“Yes…” he breathes, offended that you’d even ask such a question.

“Well then you should listen to me. I’ll tell you what I think. I think you’re sweet and cute. I think you’re sexy and fun. I think I love the beauty of your soul as much as I love your handsome face. I think your height is not a measure of your worth and I’m not sure why it’s important to you, but I will hug you all day every day to remind you that you’re the perfect height to always bury your face in my tits.”

He laughs, visibly relaxing despite the blush creeping in his cheeks. “You’re good to me.”

“I think,” you continue, suddenly feeling shy yourself. “You don’t have anything to be jealous about. This world only has one Jimin. One who is perfect as himself. And I care about him so much that I want to go with him to a cabin where I won’t know anyone because when he’s around, my heart hurts less and the world feels less cold and when I’m with him, despite my paranoia and concerns about being murdered... he makes me feel safe. I love him.”

He smiles sweetly, leaning in to plant a kiss on your lips. “Who’s that Jimin? He sounds amazing. But I’ll have to teach him a lesson for stealing your affection.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head, nuzzling your nose close to his. “You dork.”

“You’re coming with me then?”

“It’s a date, my prince,” you reply with a grin.

“Thank goodness. I already cancelled my ride.”

The snow whips against your windshield wipers. Heat blares through the vents, the radio playing softly in the background. Jimin looks over at you, placing his hand on your thigh. You smile, giving it a firm squeeze and pressing it to your lips while your eyes squint through the blinding white obscuring the road.

“Do you see a sign to get back on the highway?” you ask, trying to bite back the anxiety brewing in your belly.

The “EXIT ONLY” sign responsible for your detour had been obscured by the heavy snowfall. Being that the inclement weather has put you in an unfamiliar area, you’re hopeful that the poorly plowed backroads are a short-lived side trip.

“Don’t worry. There has to be a way to get back on,” he assures you, giving your fingers a squeeze as he squints out the passenger side window. “Oh! That sign says there’s a gas station ahead. Maybe we could ask in there?”

You eye the instrument panel of your dashboard. The needle indicating the fuel level of your tank hovers two lines above “E.” You promptly go back to watching the road, wind whipping snow off nearby trees. You’re taking it slow as you come around a curve, but your tires spin when they hit a patch of ice.

“Oh shit!” Releasing his fingers, you throw your arm up to shield Jimin’s chest as do your best to turn your steering wheel into the skid as the vehicle veers off the side of the road.

The car makes a skewed slide to the shoulder of the road and continues to glide onto the snow-covered grass, coming to a complete stop before hitting any of the nearby trees. You exhale a ragged breath and look over at Jimin.

“Are you okay?”

He nods, carding his fingers through his hair. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” Your response is sturdy, composed, but its foundation is a lie that could come crumbling down at any moment. Shaky fingers reach over to click the hazard button in the unlikely event that anyone else drives by. You haven’t seen another car in over twenty minutes, but it’s still best to err on the side of caution.

“Just icy. Gas station?” you ask, trying to get your bearings. You don’t think the car did a 180 but you’re a little shaken up and could use a break.

Jimin points in the direction the sign indicated. “Not too far, I think. Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nod silently, checking your surroundings as you attempt to back up. The wheels beneath the car spin in endless cycles, bringing you nowhere. You swallow hard, turning the wheel in the opposite direction and trying again as you apply more force to the gas pedal. When the car doesn’t budge, you fear the worst and place it in park. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you slip on a pair of thin gloves and open the door to inspect the terrain.

With your first step outside your stomach drops with your legs on the slippery surface below your boots. You clutch the door but it’s too late; your legs split and you fall to the ground with a painful smack. You can’t help the pained whimper that spills out of your mouth in short, embarrassing bursts. You’ll be fine. You just need a minute.

“Snow! Are you okay?” Hearing your cries, Jimin quickly dons his mittens and gets out of the car.

As soon as he rounds the front of the car, passing the light on the driver’s side, his boots lose all traction. He stumbles forward a bit, trying to regain his footing before his legs finally slip from beneath him. The impact his ass makes on the ground beside you makes you wince. He grimaces, sucking air through his teeth as he leans back. Even still, he reaches out and touches your cheek with a puffy red mitten, opening his mouth to ask if you’re okay but not able to manage anything other than a broken groan.

You look up at him as he leans over you, feeling the fingers trapped beneath the fuzzy mitten at your cheek. Suddenly you start to giggle. Despite not knowing the source, seeing your amusement causes the groan in his throat to transform into a breathless laugh.

“We really are messes, huh?” you say, pulling down on the red scarf adorning his shoulders to bring him down to meet your lips.

His mouth is hot, leaving behind breathy vapors in the air as he sucks your bottom lip, turning the innocent nature of the kiss into something more passionate. Before your brain can register the action, his tongue already propping your mouth open. If the wind wasn’t whipping snow on your exposed cheeks, he might have been able to keep you warm and make you forget your surroundings completely.

Reluctantly you push him back. “Jimin we have to get up. What if another car comes and rear ends us? We would die.”

He sighs, wincing as he struggles to stand on the slippery surface. “Okay, but be careful getting up.”

He circles the car, inspecting for any signs of damage as you crawl on hands and knees towards the front of the car. Placing your cheek on the ground you look beneath to see if anything might be caught underneath. When you both come up empty, you carefully get back in the car.

Jimin looks over at you suddenly, an expression of realization coating his features. “Did you turn traction control off?”

You slowly close your eyes and run cold, wet gloved fingers down your face. “I’m an idiot. I should have thought of that.”

Jimin shrugs and kisses your cheek with a proud smile. “I just passed my driver’s test so it’s all fresh in my mind.”

Before long, you’re back on the road and rolling up to a pump at the gas station. Jimin disappears inside while you work on filling the tank. It’s filling painfully slowly so you start playing with the layer of snow on the top lip of the pump. You begin to gather snow, picking some from the ground and rolling it around to form a tiny, perfect snowball.

The bell on the door jingles as Jimin exits, a look of concentration on his face as he looks up and down the road beside the lot. An abrupt wave of cold shocks his system as a snowball disintegrates against his chin. He looks around for the culprit, but the only person in the parking lot is you. He blinks a few times, realizing you’re cackling like a witch as you screw the cap back on your tank.

Instead of forming his own snowball to throw back, his bottom lip protrudes in a pout and he puffs up like a bird who’s had their feathers ruffled one too many times. He must still be sore from falling. You start to feel guilty and start to apologize as he draws near, pulling him into an embrace. He leans into you, walking you back until you’re pressed against the car. You blush, feeling the weight of his body trapping you as he pushes his mouth onto yours. He removes a glove to fist your hair between his fingers and gives a sharp tug. Once again, he takes the warmth you offer and turns the heat up. Is this what he’s like when he’s annoyed and horny? You’ll remember to be bratty if this is what it earns you.

You pull back a moment, searching the darkness in his eyes for the need buried in them. Pulling his scarf aside, you latch onto his neck with the heat of your mouth, making sure to suck and tease the spot you know drives him crazy. You feel him lean into you with a moan as he swipes his hand erratically over your car. Feeling pleased with yourself, you grind your hips up into him.

You don’t see the snow he’s gathered into a pile on the top of your car, but you sure as hell feel it when swipes it all over the edge with one hand and holds the collar of your coat open with the other. The snow transforms into water almost immediately, leaving icy trails down your back and soaking into your clothes.

You screech against him just as he takes off running across the parking lot, giggling like a madman. He played you. You wiggle what snow you can out of your coat and give chase, gathering snow in your hands as you go. He holds his hands up as if to surrender and repeating a slew of “sorry”s, but something about the way he’s laughing the whole time makes it feel a bit disingenuous. Soft snowballs smash against his legs. You wish you had better aim.

As you move to gather more snow, he’s already firing off the ammunition he’s secretly gathered, pelting your coat with white. Running up to him through the barrage, you find he’s empty and he puts his hands out again. Seeing the snowbank behind him, you push him back into it, allowing a cushion of cold to break his fall. The melody of his laughter rings through your ears as your climb on top of him and sprinkle what’s left of your fistful of powdery snow all over his face.

You’re both laughing so hard you’re crying. After taking a moment to calm his laughter, he sits up on his elbows and removes a loop from the scarf at his neck to drape it around yours.

“Come on. Let’s get to the cabin so we can warm up.”

You wet your lips, the cold immediately freezing your spit. “What you’re not warm?”

“You pushed me into the snow. I’m cold,” he whines.

“You covered me in white,” you say, not thinking about the words until they’re out.

Jimin quirks an eyebrow with a knowing smile. “I thought you liked that. You were begging for it yesterday, weren’t you?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“You’re friends with Hope on the Street? J-Hope? Really?” you ask in disbelief. The guy is somewhat of a celebrity so it’s a little unnerving knowing he’s going to be at this cabin. The segment he did on puppies recently really brightened up your day.

“His real name is Hoseok,” Jimin says with a nod, crunching into a potato chip. “He also goes by Hobi.”

You can’t stop yourself from asking. “That whole dildo thing everyone says? Is it true?”

Jimin coughs out the chip he had been chewing and you immediately apologize, but he laughs. “What have you heard? I’m not much of a gossip.”

You shake your head defensively. “I’m not either! It’s just… There are so many rumors. I’ve heard it was a vibrator, cucumber, a cordless mic… And it’s always an absurd length, like twelve inches or something like that.”

Jimin laughs so hard he snorts. “Oh my god. No! Okay, I’m going to tell you the truth, but you can’t tell anyone I told you, okay?”

“...Okay,” you agree, not realizing the pit you’ve fallen into.

“If you promise you won’t tell…” he trails, looking out the window.

“I pinky promise,” you say as you stick out your little finger. You’re too curious now. You have to know.

“Don’t let on that you know, either,” he continues as he links his pinky with yours and looks over at you. “Promise?”

Your eyes dart over to his for a split second before focusing back on the road. “I promise, my prince.”

He smiles, taking the opportunity to hold your hand while he talks. “Hmm. By the time we get there hopefully you’ll feel like you know them a little. I’ve told you some pretty tame stories so far but… The truth is that we’ve all known each other since we were kids. So I know all of their dirty laundry.”

He wiggles his eyebrows at you even though you can’t pay attention to his suggestive facial expressions. Why do you feel like you’re getting more than you bargained for?

“You’re such a dork. Just tell me about J-H--Hoseok.”

“So impatient,” he teases with a sigh. “I mean honestly it’s not that bad. Hoseok and his girlfriend, Cat, have been together for a while now. They were… experimenting in the bedroom together. The dildo they were using was pretty small and she lost her grip on it. That’s really all there is to it. Someone must have heard him talking to the nurses.”

That makes total sense. Of course everything gets blown out of proportion. Poor guy.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t let it get to him at all. He keeps a smile on and can talk around pretty much everything. But when you put him with Cat, together? They have no shame and if you’re not careful they’ll drag you into their filthy games.”

“Have they dragged you into them, Jimin?” you ask with a smile, genuinely curious with a side pang of envy. Whoever is dating someone as fine as J-Hope must be hot as hell. Just imagining Jimin being thrown into that mix has you salivating, wishing you could have been the meat in that sandwich instead.

“Maybe,” he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “B-But that was a long time ago.”

“Too bad,” you suck your teeth. “Sounds like it could be fun.”

Jimin’s eyes go wide and he swallows a nervous laugh, not wanting to accept the possibility so easily if it was only meant as a joke. “I mean if you’re interested I can always ask if they might want to.”

You laugh nervously, not expecting that possibility. “I… haha, let me meet them first. They might hate me for all you know. I tend to talk when I get nervous and then mess everything up.”

“It’s part of your charm. You’re cute when you get shy. You have this… innocence that’s endearing. They’ll love you. You’d probably be their new favorite... toy...” he trails off into a breathy whisper, losing himself in some daydream.

“Are you sure you won’t get jealous?” you ask, snapping him back to reality. “Mistledough man had you so moody.”

“Ah, Seokjin. You know, I once caught him jerking it to a muffin.”

You blink a few times. “Seokjin is the bakery dorito,” you affirm, keeping your eyes on the highway. “And you caught him jacking it … Jimin. Tell me mistledough is cum-free.”

He laughs. “Seokjin would never. Don’t worry. It wasn’t at the bakery.”

“But… why…?”

“I don’t know. I never received any context for it and I was too afraid to ask. Honestly, I think it’s his messed up relationship with his ‘not girlfriend.’” He uses air quotes to signify his distaste for the situation. “Pumpkin. At least he calls her that. Everyone else calls her Grump.”

“Oof. She a bitch?”

“If you were at the shop, you must have seen her.”

You pause to recall the day you’d stopped in. “There was this one girl that was staring at me but I figured it might be someone I knew from high school so I avoided eye contact. Got this chill down my spine though.”

“Yeah that’s her. She’s a little rough around the edges, but she’s secretly soft on the inside. She just needs time to warm up to people. I think she has a hard time showing affection. We’ve all known her almost as long as we’ve known each other. She just needs to get laid. Scratch that. She needs to get laid by Jin. They’ve been dancing around it for over a decade, Snow. Imagine if you and I never… for over ten years.”

You exhale air through puffed cheeks. “I’d have moved on after two. You’re lucky you made a move when you did.” You give his hand a playful squeeze. “Why haven’t they yet?”

“They’ve both been in love with each other for so long I think they’re blinded by it now,” he guesses with a shrug. “They’re so in love that they can’t even see it anymore. Maybe they never did. But there’s always this air of jealousy that makes it impossible for either of them to be happy with anyone else. I should probably sit them both down and talk them through it, but sometimes Seokjin… Ah, he closes his ears to anything he doesn’t like. Maybe this year will be different. She always comes so if you think she’s glaring at you, she probably is, but don’t take it personal.”

You nod in quiet contemplation for a moment before moving on. “Tannie’s dad?”

“Ah. Taehyung. He’s probably my closest friend. Don’t tell the others. Him and Star have been together since college and are so perfect for each other it makes my heart ache. They’re really… unique. It’s okay if you think they’re weird because they are. But that’s their charm. They listen to really old records and wear vintage clothes and talk about art all the time. It used to make me cringe at first but now it makes me happy. It’s probably because I don’t live with him anymore.”

You spare a curious glance at him “You lived with him?”

“Roommates right after high school. Before he went off to art school and got his degree. Then I went off to uni for business and marketing.”

“Ah, right. College. That thing that most people do after highschool. I’m dumb.”

Jimin frowns, knowing it’s a sore subject for you. “You’re not dumb. Be nice to yourself. It’s not your fault you never got a chance to go.”

Your fingers grip the steering wheel tightly, enough so your knuckles pale. “I know I’m not dumb. I could have been a vet by now. I was smart enough for it. I could have done it.”

He reaches out to place a reassuring palm on your shoulder. “You can still go back, you know.”

You shake your head, swallowing the bitter pill that you missed your chance for that kind of life. Things are different now. You like your job. You like your life. You don’t need to use schooling as an escape from your home. Maybe it’s time to let go of the resentment. You can still be smart and not go to college. You can still enjoy a job that doesn’t require a degree.

“I need to work on not being so bitter about my past,” you answer with a shake of your head. “I like where I am now and if I don’t, I can always change. Thank you for helping me remember that. So.. where were we? Taehyung?”

“Ah, I caught him sucking on her toes once,” he says very matter-of-factly.

“What?!”

“When he moved out and told me about his roommate, I thought he’d be living with another man. He invited me over to meet them. Imagine my surprise when I came by. The door to his room was wide open and he’s sitting there licking up the bottom of her foot, putting her toes in his mouth.”

“What did they do when they saw you standing there?” you purse your lips, wondering if Jimin had been a part of this couple’s sex life as well.

“Oh, they tried to laugh and play it off like ‘Oh no we were messing around... it’s not like that... Why would be doing something like that? Da da da.’ All the excuses, you know? But I saw it and I can’t unsee it. He had a boner and she looked like she was enjoying it.” He shakes his head.

“I still think it’s funny you know him. He pampers Tannie. A lot. Like he spends an absurd amount on that dog. He loves him so much. It’s so cute. Wait… Does that mean you know other Mr. Kim? Moni’s dad?”

Jimin looks over. “You know Namjoon too?”

“This isn’t so bad. I’ve at least seen these people,” you say, mostly to yourself as a comforting thought. “Actually, I gave him a dog treat for Moni and he just… Jimin, he ate it right in front of me. I didn’t know what to do so I just smiled.”

Jimin start roaring with laughter. “That sounds like Namjoonie. At least that was edible. I watched him drink perfume once. He said it smelled so good he wanted to see what it tasted like. I’m not sure how drunk he was, but he had to be pretty far gone. You know he’s really intelligent, but he makes some really bad decisions. He will deny this until the day he dies, but I was there for his ‘bad boy’ phase back in high school. He purposefully failed classes because he thought it made him look cooler and he’d always brag about blowing off dates with girls and pretending to be a loner. Not to mention he always wore some kind of black t-shirt with a fake deep quote on it, he had a leather jacket, painted his fingernails black, had a mohawk...”

“Really? That guy? Did he have a motorcycle too?” you snicker. “That would really sell it for me.”

“He may have painted blue flames on the side of his bicycle,” he jokes. “Do I have to worry about him stealing you too?”

You roll your eyes. “Tell me about another one and I’ll tell you who’s the most dangerous. Right now, you’re still winning.”

“Yoongi looks the most intimidating. He looks like a bad boy, covered in tattoos and piercings. He even has his dick pierced. I’ve seen it. Yes, it looks painful. People say he comes off as cold, but he’s really not.”

“Like Grump?”

“Hmmmm… Different. Have you ever heard of Inkspires? It’s the tattoo shop across town.”

You think for a moment. It’s not like you live in a big city, but you’re not sure you’ve ever had a reason to go to such a place. You rack your brain trying to think of the place he’s talking about. When you shake your head, he seems a little sad.

“Don’t worry. You’ll know them once I’m done. I’m working on rebranding them. Pro bono. I’m working to make it something everyone will recognize. Jisoo’s got a lot of ideas and I’m excited to bring them to life. It will take some time, but I think it will be worth it.” He smiles. “I think he might be bringing his new girlfriend. What did he call her? Plum? Melons?” He snaps his fingers. “Ah, Peaches.”

“Peaches?”

Jimin shrugs. “They started dating recently. I don’t have all the details yet. It’s kind of a big deal. He usually doesn’t bring a date. He usually doesn’t date. And unless something has changed-- which I don’t think it has-- he's still a virgin.”

Your mouth falls open. “Really? How? I mean, that’s kind of impressive, honestly. The world is so busy trying to sell sex. How do you keep away from it?”

Jimin shakes his head. “Trust me, I know. My whole business is embedded in it. I guess he’s never had anyone he really wanted to share the experience with. I told you, he’s a real soft-hearted guy. He works part time at Construct-a-Cub during the holidays. He donates a lot of stuff to charities for children.”

“Wow. He sounds like a really good person,” you say, genuinely stunned by the kindness people can show.

“Don’t be fooled. He’ll tell you he hates kids. Secret softie. But similar to Grump, if you think he’s being cold, he’s probably just wary. Give him time and he’ll warm up to you. Keep an open mind. And don’t judge a book by its cover.”

You nod. “Of course.”

“He’s the one who actually did my tattoo and piercings.”

“I meant to ask about those…”

“Tae, Guk, and I decided we were all gonna get them right after college. Kind of a celebration pact type thing. Tae chickened out after watching us go and since he already paid for it, Star ended up getting hers done in his place.”

“Ouch,” you hiss through your teeth, mentally conjuring the level of endurance that might take.

“It really wasn’t that bad.” He laughs. “I was surprised by how little it hurt compared to what I imagined.”

“Did you watch?”

“Hmm?”

“Star getting hers done.”

Jimin licks his lips and stares out the window with a shy smile. “Yoongi offered to kick everyone out, but she insisted we stay. Tae didn’t talk to us for a week. He’s a baby sometimes. He knows she only has eyes for him. I think she’s an exhibitionist. Don’t be surprised if you catch her walking around naked.”

You hold back a snort with a pang of irrational jealousy. “What? For real?”

“I’m joking. Kind of. She’s soft and sweet and as a couple they’re pretty reserved. But I’ve heard them competing with Cat and Hobi for loudest cabin sex.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “And I guess that just leaves Jeongguk. Where do I start? He keeps humiliating himself in front of his coworker. He’s got a big crush on her but his brain just melts any time he’s close to her. For instance, he started going on about how heavy it is to carry around his balls. He kind of put his foot in his mouth, since he was talking about soccer balls. You know, he kind of reminds me of you. Almost like you’re related.”

“Jimin!” You choke on your own spit, trying to focus on the lines separating the lanes.

Jimin raises his eyebrows, feigning innocence. “What?”

“How did you know?”

“Well, it’s pretty boring actually. After I came out of your apartment covered in your juices, he accused me of eating someone’s pussy. I showed him a picture of you and he told me you guys are cousins.”

“Okay forget I asked. Please don’t say any more,” you plead, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “I can’t believe this shit. Why are you friends with my cousin?... That means… That Taehyung… oh fuck. I’ve been playing video games with Mr. Kim for years. Oh god. I’ve been talking about you to both of them in-game. Oh god, this is so weird. Let’s go back to when I didn’t know my cousin has been friends with my boyfriend for literal years. Our town is small, but how fucking small is the world when I moved from the city and I’m still dating my cousin’s friend?”

Jimin smiles. “It doesn’t bother me. Does it really bother you? He’s happy for you.”

You bite your lip. “It’s just weird. I’ll need to adjust to the fact that you two know each other at all. Oh my god. I should have known. In-game. He named his pet Tannie. God, I’m so stupid!”

After a minute of listening to the soft sounds of the radio, he looks over and asks, “Am I still winning?”

“I don’t know. Yoongi’s sounding pretty sweet right now.”

He gasps, acting surprised by your answer. “No,” he whines.

You twine his fingers in yours and bring them to your lips. “Don’t worry. I’m yours and yours only. I belong to one charming, snake of a prince. What are your secrets anyway?”

“You really want to know?”

You cock your head to one side and spare a fleeting glance at him. “Spill ‘em.”

“You have to promise not to tell.”

You smile, seeing the exit you need to take quickly approaching. “If you tell me I’ll wrap these lips around your cock when we get there. Wherever you want.”

“...That’s not a promise, Snow.”

“I guarantee you it is.”

You shiver as Jimin wraps his arms around you, sinking his chin into the crook of your shoulder. A heavy sigh reverberates against your ear as he presses his hardening length into your ass. “So?”

“So what?”

“Not too awkward right?” he confirms, holding your waist and swaying back and forth.

“Yeah, I almost forgot my cousin showed up with my bestie. Definitely don’t want to be around to hear them go at it. I really don’t need that image in my head. How far is our room from theirs?” you ask, reaching behind you to run your fingers across his pants in the place he needs you most.

He inhales deeply and purses his lips for a moment. “I don’t know. We change it up every year. First come...” He hikes your dress up and slides his hand over your thigh, teasing the sensitive bud beneath your panties. “First served.”

You groan as he licks a line from your collarbone to your ear.

“What do you think? Now that we’ve had dinner, can I have dessert?”

You shiver and turn your face to give him a quick peck.

“Mmm I don’t know. Maybe I want dessert,” you counter, licking your lips and sparing a glance down to the place your fingers are massaging.

A whine rumbles up and out of his throat as his hands roam the exterior of your dress, gliding up your sides until he’s cupping your breasts in his palms. “You make this dress look good.”

Deft fingers play with the button on the back of your neck, making quick work of the zipper concealed beneath. The fabric of your party dress falls away from your body and pools around your feet. “But it looks better on the floor.”

He doesn’t give you time to ruminate on how exposed you feel. He’s already spinning you around and pushing you towards the guest bed you’ll be sharing for the night. As you fall back against the cold comforter, he’s working the buttons off his shirt. Not fast enough. You’ve been wanting this all day. The notches on his belt are so small the buckle gets stuck; you nearly snap the metal with how quick your fingers are moving. He offers a surprised gasp as you drag his boxers down with his pants, thick cock springing free from its confines

You pump him with your hand once before taking him in your mouth. His hands, which had been fumbling with the last button on his shirt, fist in your hair as you bob up and down over his shaft. It takes all his restraint, but he tightens his grip with a moan and pulls you off him. You give him a confused pout, trying to move your mouth close enough to take him back in. He allows you to move forward just a little, your lips ghosting over the tip before he yanks your hair to force you to behave.

“You said it could be wherever I choose,” he murmurs, losing himself in the way you’re flicking your tongue out in attempts to coax him back into your mouth.

“So where do you want me, baby?” You want him so bad. You need him. And from the way he allows you to brush your lips against him again, he feels the same. You lick your lips in anticipation, causing a shiver to wrack his body as it passes over every sensitive nerve ending on the head of his throbbing cock. “Please.”

With just a word, he allows you to take the tip in your mouth, tongue gliding across every last bit you’ll give. He bites his lip hard and reluctantly shakes his head, pulling you back again. “Not yet. I want to make you sing first.”

“What am I singing?” you confusedly ask, knowing full well you’re probably tone-deaf. But you’ll do anything he requests if he’ll let you suck his dick without being a total tease.

He giggles, watching the desperation in your eyes cloud your understanding. Leaning down, he presses his lips to yours and slips his tongue between them, tasting the faint traces of himself left behind.

“Sing my name,” he pleads between open-mouthed kisses, hands sliding around to cup your jaw. “It sounds like heaven spilling from your lips.”

He pulls back long enough for your eyes to flutter open and see the love coursing through every last bit of his soul. He reaches down and splays his hands over your hips, thumbs curling around the band of your red panties before working them down your thighs in a playful wiggle. You pop open the last button on his shirt as he plunges a finger into you.

“You’ll ruin your shirt if you don’t take it off now,” you say, a not so subtle attempt to get him to remove it so there’s only skin touching skin.

He rolls his eyes, shaking the fabric from his arms. “Take your bra off for me?”

You discard the undergarment quicker than his shirt can fall to the floor, pulling his body down on top of you so you can feel that closeness you’ve grown accustomed to sharing.

“Jimin, I want you,” you whimper, running your fingers through his hair as he clamps his mouth down on your neck. That elicits a moan from him against your throat as he sucks a line of kisses down to a softened nipple.

“Yours would look good pierced,” he comments, squeezing both with his fingers before moving his hands to massage the flesh surrounding them.

“I’m good,” you laugh, watching the fascination in his eyes as your nipples pebble at the loss of the pleasurable pressure.

He hums a sound of indifference, pushing your tits together and burying his face between them. He’s sure to dip his tongue in the cleavage he’s created for his own benefit.

“Get up here. I miss you,” you whine, twining your fingers in his hair and guiding him back towards your mouth.

His mouth hungrily crashes down on yours and has you gasping for more in seconds. “Please… fuck.” He sucks your bottom lip through his teeth. “Jimin, please fuck me.”

His breath is haggard on inhale as he allows your lip to snap back to you. “But I haven’t even made you cum yet. What kind of boyfriend would I be?”

You take his hand and direct it to the slick, sticky juices coating your sex. “An amazing one. You make me wet without even trying.”

Jimin gasps, sliding two fingers past your lips and filling your pussy just to be sure you could take him. He pops his fingers out of you and brings them to his mouth, rutting the tip of his dick against your clit. Your body spasms as he rubs the entirety of his shaft against you. He grins when you lock your arms around his back and dig your fingernails into his muscles.

“You sure you don’t want me to make you cum first?” he offers again with a roll of his hips.

“I want your cock inside me now,” you whisper in a low, raspy tone, hot breath tickling his ear.

His hips stutter as he draws his pelvis back and you feel his tip teasing the heat of your entrance. When he pauses, you roll your hips beneath him, enticing him to continue his journey as the head circles your labia. Unable to exert any more self control, he sinks into you in a slow descent until he’s buried in you to the hilt. You both let out a held breath and moan against each other pitifully.

“Shit! Sorry!” Suddenly he pulls out and scrambles off of you like you’re made of lava, crossing the room and rifling through his bag. When he turns around, he's tearing the condom wrapper with his teeth, a sight you’ve grown so accustomed to seeing you should have known you were skipping a step.

“At least you remembered,” you sigh, getting into a comfortable position against the pillows. “I probably would have let you cum in me.”

“Now you tell me,” he jokes, dragging the condom down his shaft with ease.

“This isn’t the olden days, you know. Women have birth control,” you tease, spreading your legs and rubbing circles into your clit as he climbs on top of you.

“Oh so you want me to rip this condom off and fill you with my cum? Watch it drip down your leg when we join everyone at midnight?”

The thought turns you on more than it should. You increase the speed and pressure of your fingers against your clit. “Yes…” you whine.

He leans back on his knees as he slots himself between your legs, pressing his sheathed cock into you as you touch yourself for him.

“You want everyone to know you’re mine, don’t you?” he asks, thrusting himself up into you at a steady pace.

“Yes, Jimin…”

“All that sweetness. That innocence. You want everyone to see what a bad girl you really are. You want to show off for them, show them your pretty pussy. Full of my cum. Don’t you?”

You’re so fucking close. Everything he says is just getting you more worked up and you whimper, nodding like you’re a bobblehead without a brain.

“Say it, Snow,” he demands, slowing his pumps to a stop.

“Please,” you beg, desperately wiggling your hips to feel him again. “Please fuck me. I want you to show everyone how well you fill this tight pussy.”

“Oh, that’s it baby. Touch yourself for me. You getting off thinking about that?” He grunts as he resumes fucking himself into you, slinging your legs over his shoulders to hit deeper without hindering your ability to touch yourself. “I want you to tell me. Tell me who owns this fucking pussy.”

You clench around his cock, not used to hearing such filth come from his mouth.“This pussy is yours, Jimin. Use me like your little fuck toy.”

He tenses, throbbing inside you as he growls,“Tell me you’re my cumslut.”

With one hand pressing circles into your clit and the other squeezing your breast, you search his face, hoping to find yourself in it. You’re so far gone you can’t even register the lewd sounds of pleasure spewing from your mouth.

“Use your words. You can do it,” he whispers, beaming with pride.

“I’m... your cumslut,” you whisper between frenzied panting. “Fuck. Jimin. I’m close.”

He slows his pace, bending himself over you to move in for a messy kiss. “Such a good girl, my little cumslut. Squeezing my cock with that tight pussy… Want me to fuck you raw, don’t you?”

“Fuck. Yes. Fuck me raw baby. You feel so fucking good. I want you to cum inside me,” you confess loudly, not caring who might hear. “Take it off, baby. I want you to fill this pussy. Leave me dripping...”

His mouth comes crashing down on yours again, muffling the sounds of your obscene begging. “That’s too bad. Because I’m gonna fill that pretty, filthy little mouth instead.”

Your climax hits you faster than you can vocalize it. “I’m…”

You gush around the cock pistoning into you and when he feels your walls clamp down, he stays inside to subject himself to the delicious torture of every twitch and pulse you deliver.

“That’s it, princess. Good girl,” he whispers, sweetness in his voice returning.

His forehead drops against yours and he rides out your high with you, pressing his lips to yours until your hands fall limp against the mattress.

“That was…” you pause, heavy breaths mingling with his. “...amazing.”

“You still want dessert?” he questions with a grin.

“Finally. Give it to me,” you plead, kissing his lips again and again.

“Not here,” he whispers, a devilish smile gracing his features.

The water is warm and inviting. The bubbles bursting from the jets below offer pressure in all the right spots in all the right ways. How he had convinced you to enter the jacuzzi with him completely naked is beyond you. You’re terrified someone might walk in, but he assures you everyone is lost in their own world.

You lean forward, pressing your tits together as he positions his dick between them and starts with lazy thrusts. You stare up at his fucked out expression, savoring the way his jaw hangs open as he watches his cock slip between your wet breasts. A shy smile crosses your face when you realize he’s looking in your eyes rather than at the lewd act of his shaft sliding between two perfect mounds. He’s lost, a disoriented smile setting up camp in the corners of his mouth.

You look down and stick your tongue out to brush the head of his cock every time it comes up towards your face. He slots his fingers in your hair, curling strands into his fist.

“Do you want to fuck my throat?”

He nods weakly, guiding you back against the seat of the jacuzzi. You pump your fist over his cock a few times as he towers over you. Relaxing your jaw, you take him to the base, tongue wiggling against his balls. He loses his footing for a moment, slipping against the bottom of the hot tub.

“Maybe you should sit down,” you suggest, his dick coming out of your mouth with a loud pop.

“Can you hold your breath for that long?” He sounds unsure, even as he’s settling in the space across from you.

“Think of it as an edging session,” you giggle, taking a deep breath and submerging yourself in the water.

When he feels you take him into your mouth again, his jaw goes slack as he stretches out his arms across the side of the hot tub and tilts his head back.

“Hey, did you come alone?” Hobi’s voice breaks his moment of peace.

Jimin panics, hands diving into the water to keep your head beneath the surface. Hopefully the bubbles from the jets will obscure your form. He wracks his brain, trying to think of something to say as he stares blankly at Hoseok and Cat, who are now standing in the doorway with eyebrows raised.

You grip his legs and fight against his hands, shooting up from the water with the grace of someone who just got a bunch of water up their nose and nearly drowned. You cough and sputter, swiping water from your eyes as you see two figures standing in the doorway. Recognizing one as J-Hope, your heart sinks. Jimin mentioned he was running late when he didn’t show up for dinner.

This is how you meet Hope on the Street. Of course it is.

The hot chick next to him must be his girlfriend. Realizing you’re completely nude, you sink down in the water to your chin and smile as sweetly as you can.

“Hi, you must be Hoseok and Cat! Jimin’s told me so much about you.”

Hoseok sputters, laughing with his mouth wide open. You recoil at the sound, wishing the jacuzzi would melt your bones and just leave you to live your life as a puddle from now on.

Cat lightly smacks him in the shoulder. “Yeah, that’s us. We’ll hang out later, give you guys some space. Sorry!”

She shoves her boyfriend through the door, leaving you alone with Jimin.

“I want to die,” you say, clapping your hands to your cheeks. “I wish I had drowned instead.”

“It’s not that bad, really,” Jimin says, pulling you back to his body.

“Hope on the Street just cackled at the sight of me coming up for air after sucking your dick. Hell of a first impression,” you grumble, rubbing your temple.

“We can ‘walk in’ on them later if it makes you feel better,” he suggests with a laugh.

You disappear under the water, picking up where you left off. If they were going to catch you giving him a blowjob, you might as well finish it. The taste of chemicals is already on your tongue; it can’t be for nothing.

“I love you,” he says when you come out of the water for air.

“I love you too,” you murmur, shyly kissing his lips before descending again.

Every time you resurface, he’s waiting, bringing you to his lips with a sweet kiss. You can tell he’s close, but you’re having too much fun popping out of the water to kiss him. Finally, he’s had enough of the edging and has you kneeling in the center of the jacuzzi, sloppily thrusting himself deep into your mouth.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warns. “Is this okay?”

“Mmm-hmm,” you mumble a sound of affirmation against his cock, only choking slightly.

The grunt of his release comes with the bitter tang of his cum hitting the back of your throat as he bottoms out. You swallow it bit by bit, doing your best not to sputter and choke with the way he’s tightly holding the back of your head in place. He loosens his grip and pulls back, catching the tears in your eyes and concernedly swiping at them with his thumbs. You swallow what’s left in your mouth like a champ.

“You okay?” he checks in, settling into the water with you. “That was too much, wasn’t it? I’m sorry.”

You shake your head with a giggle. “I like when you’re rough. I’m just… out of practice.”

“We can work on it then,” he whispers with a grin, pulling you into an embrace.

When he brings his lips to meet yours, butterflies tickle your insides like it’s the first time. You lose yourself in his touch, in his kiss, in his everything. Being with him still feels like a dream. Never in your life could you have imagined loving someone could feel so good, so pure, so right.

“Hey it’s probably almost midnight. Do you wanna go do the countdown with everyone?”

You respond with a nod. “Champagne?”

“Of course.”

He gets out first and you watch the water roll off his body as he extends a hand to help you out of the hot tub. Pruny fingers grasp his, hoping he knows just how much he means. You’re ready to face the new year together and you’re ready to jump into this found family head first.

Heading for the door, you pause, turning back to look at him. “Aren’t you coming?”

With a laugh, he comes up behind you, draping a robe around your naked form. “You might want to put this on.”

What would you do without him? You swallow hard, donning the robe and smiling at him. He links his fingers with yours and you head inside together.

[ac3id]

🌸revenge

Pairings: Yandere! Prince! Izuku Midoriya x Princess Reader x Commoner! Katsuki Bakugou.

warnings: characters are obv aged up,yandere themes, cheating, noncon, humiliation, mind break, violence,major character death, a gun, ok this is v fucked up haha, swearing, v v sadist Izuku, smut (obvio), bondage.

summary: Born in a royal household you lead a sheltered life. From expensive jewelry, exotic fruits, and fancy dresses you lived in luxury. But it came with a price, the price was your freedom. From an early age, your life's purpose was decided on by your parents, teach you to be a fine woman and then marry you to another prince. You always felt trapped by the bars of gold, you never had lived your life but you hoped.Hoped that one day something would happen which would pull you out if the cage you were trapped in but that hope quickly vanished when your parents announced that you would be marrying the youngest prince of the Viridis kingdom Izuku Midoriya. It was to strengthen the trade with his kingdom– the most powerful on land. You did not have much of a choice as you were sent away to meet the young prince. He was kind and caring with a handsome face and a well-built body but, you couldn't fall for him. You were enchanted by his knight– Commander Katsuki Bakugou. Katsuki and Izuku were childhood friends but did they not hate each other, well it seemed like at least Katsuki hated the prince. When you first met Katsuki, you were taken back by his boldness. Talking to the royalty in a which would get anyone else’s head cut off. Maybe, that was what made you fall for him. Behind Izuku’s back, you slept with his childhood friend until he found out. Izuku decided to take revenge and it sure was nasty.

word count:4.8k

masterlist

Warm sun rays fell on your closed eyelids. Blinking them open, you caught Maria, your handmaid, pushing open the blinds letting the soft golden rays flow into the room.

“Good morning, Miss. Y/N,” she greeted you. You sat up on your bed and stretched your arms above your head, “It is a beautiful morning, is it not?” Maria hummed in approval, “My Lady, His Highness wishes to have breakfast with you this beautiful morning,” she says.

“What?” You ask, a bit surprised that the young prince wanted to see you. Even though both of you shared the same sleeping chambers you haven't seen him in months as he was busy with his princely duties. “I heard from the servants that the Kingdom will see better days, expect the prince to finally court you.” She says brushing your hair behind you, “Maybe it is the right time to break it off with Commander Bakugou,” you turn back to give her a warning glare and she looks away, you look back at the mirror as guilt consumes you.

It had been a year since you had arrived at Viridis, the people of the nation had greeted you warmly, happily accepting you as their princess. You never felt as if you were a burden or unwelcomed. The servants, your soon to be in-law, and everyone else treated you with respect and love yet you couldn't help but feel homesick and depressed. Even though you were soon to be the princess of the strongest nation on the land, something any other girl your age would want- this was not your choice. You would rather be in your own Kingdom where you felt even the tiniest bit of freedom but, life was not that fair.

Days went by quickly and you did not feel a thing. Your soul was numb, sometimes Izuku would come to you and you both would spend time together but, it did not last long as he would leave right away. In the midst of your despair, you found someone. He was a fierce ash-blonde-- Bakugou Katsuki grew up with Izuku. He was the Commander of the Order of Chivalry and one of Izuku’s best friends. You had met him in the royal garden one day admiring the flowers catching him at such a soft moment; you teased him about it. Soon enough you and Katsuki grew close, closer than you and Izuku ever could. Katsuki was passionate, rough, and even though it did not seem like it- he could show affection. One night when Izuku had left for another nation due to his work, Katsuki confessed his feelings for you. You were glad he felt the same way but you both also knew it was wrong. But neither of you cared, you both needed each other. Only Katsuki could have filled the emptiness in you.

Maria had left and you were alone dwelling on your regretful life choices, you knew it would become very hard seeing Katsuki after marriage but, you didn’t want to give him up. You twist your ring on your ring finger, suddenly becoming heavier. You let out a sigh, you had to talk to Katsuki about this- about your future. There was no way either of you could avoid what was destined.

You hear a knock at your door and soon it opens, you see Katsuki enter the room he was dressed casually in a shirt and pants but he still was a sight to see. “Hey princess,” He says with a smirk and you feel your heart beat faster. His smirk always had you hooked.

"Katsuki," you say, your voice taking on a feeble tone. You hug him firmly, snuggling in as close to him as possible. Katsuki sighs into your embrace, his eyes flickering between your face and your lips, you inhale deeply, his fragrance flooding your senses. It's dangerous, yet warm and cozy—you could spend centuries in his secure embrace.

Lifting your chin with his hand and pressing your lips together. He sighs when your lips meet. You bring your hand up to rest on his cheek, molding your body with his. Looking into his eyes as you bite and pull on his lips "I love you so much," He groans into your mouth, soft moans and groans exchanged between the two lovers, your smile widens, and his thumbs begin to rub circles into your waist. His hands running up your thighs and over your ass, squeezing it and earning a gasp from you.

Katsuki closed the door. He lunges forward, planting wet, sloppy kisses along your cheek, jawline, and your neck. You try to push him off but he's much stronger than you. He wrangles you, pinning your arms down and flipping you so that her back meets the softness of the bed you share with Izuku.

Resting his hands on the sides of your face, he groans into your throat, deep vibrations sending chills up your spine. You pull back, your lips purse as you fumble with the wedding band on your ring finger, twirling it around to calm your nerves. "Katsuki! Someone might hear us" you cry, but kisses are wracking your body and you are squirming underneath him, you are not surprised when he doesn't listen.

You let out a soft moan as his calloused firm hands find your chest, dragging his palm slowly across your breasts. Brushing your hard nipples with his thumb, squeezing and massaging them through your gown. He slowly unbuttons his shirt and pulls it from his strong arms with one swift move. He hisses when you scrape your nails down his defined pectorals and abdominal muscles, “Katsuki, no. Not right now. Deku asked me to eat with him, we can do this later.” You say pushing him off you as his grip on you loosened. “Did you have to use that nerd’s name? You completely put me off!” he groans as you passed him to the door, “Sorry Suki’, I’ll come to you later. I promise.”

"My sweet, you're here!" You hear Izuku call you, he was dressed fashionably in royal attire, a green coat resting on his shoulders as he sat down. "Deku," you greet him by his nickname, the first time you had ever met him he had asked you to call him by that name, and every time you called him using 'Deku' his cheeks would darken and a sweet smile would decorate his freckled face. But this time he did not smile, not a hint of pleasantness was visible on his face. Instead, a glint of something you could not understand spread in his eyes. A mix of anger and irritation.

"When did you come back?" You ask as you take a seat beside him, "I arrived last night, I didn't want to disturb you so I slept in the guest chambers," he answered, flashing you a smile-not quite reaching his eyes. "Oh, how considerate of you, Deku." You were glad he didn't come to your room last night. Katsuki had come over. "Well, what are your plans for today, my dear?" as he divided into his food.

"The usual, I'm planning on visiting the library and picking up my books and then returning to my chambers and reading them."

"Well if it is not a bother, why don't you spend the day with me?" Izuku asked you with his face flushed, he looked adorable and you obviously could not have denied so, you spent the day with Deku. The little date was pleasant, you both enjoyed each other's company and as the end of the day kept coming nearer you kept thinking about going back to Katsuki.

"Your Highness," One of Izuku's knights approached him as both of you sat in the royal garden enjoying the sunset, he whispered something into Izuku's ear and he hummed in response. "Petal," He called out to you lovingly and you looked over, "Why haven't you touched your tea? Do you not like it?" he asks, concerned, "Oh, no it's nothing like that! I was just taking in the view, I guess I forgot about it." you say as you take a sip. "It is delicious!"

"I'm glad you liked it."

After a few minutes you start feeling light-headed, you rub your forehead which catches Izuku's attention. "My, Y/N, are you feeling alright? You look unwell." "I don't know, Deku, I feel lightheaded." you had expected Deku to guide you to a doctor after you laid out your concern but instead you hear a sinister giggle leave his mouth. His face displayed a chilling smirk as his expression from a fun-loving gentleman changed to something unrecognizable.

"Don't worry my sweet little petal, the drug is working. You will be fine. Just need to learn your lesson."Izuku plays with a loose strand of your hair as you feel your conscious slip away.

Oh, what had you got yourself into?

Your arms were outstretched over your head and slightly spread with your delicate wrists locked into place by restraints, the metal edges have been padded with fabric to prevent any obvious ligature marks or damage. The heat of your body was replaced by the cool open air of the cell hitting your body, your sweat intensifying the chill, and sending goosebumps prickling over the expense of your skin.

A black blindfold was obscuring your vision. The thick fabric was comfortable against your face and completely blacked out the world around you. Tears leaked from the corner of your eyes, you bit down on something bitter and balled up—a leather gag. It was uncomfortable, and you could feel the drool dripping a trail down towards your neck, it was disgusting.

Twisting your hands within the metal restraints, you could feel the ache developing in your arms as you were forced to remain in position. heightening your other senses to compensate for the missing sight. You tried to distract yourself from squirming by focusing instead on the sounds of something heavy shuffling at the opposite end of the cell. You let out a muffled whimper.

You heard echoing footfalls coming closer to you, guilt rising in your chest.

You knew it was Izuku.

You were trembling from some combination of fear and frustration. Your breath was coming in slowly controlled inhales and your heartbeat erratically from the anticipation of not knowing Izuku's intentions.

You immediately let out muffled, incoherent pleas. Your desperate cries enmeshing in the now completely soaked leather ball he had gagged you with. He smirks at your appearance. Your hair was messy and your cheeks were tear-stained and pink, lips stretching out because of the gag.

Even without seeing him, you could picture his closed-mouthed almost crazed smile. Restrained into place, unable to speak, and missing one of your most vital senses, you were left completely at his mercy.

You felt his hand move upwards to your neck. Slowly gripping it tighter. You were reverberating around him and everything felt heightened by the lack of oxygen.

You would have been squirming if not for the last thread of your dignity anchoring you to the metal brace around your chest and wrists.

"Sweetheart, sweetheart." He began, his voice was chilling. It was as if he was spitting venom with every word he spoke. "Did you honestly think that I would not know about the little romance going on between you and Kacchan?" You felt cold leather run up your jaw and you shuddered. "I think you are aware of how incompetent you are. A country like Virdis would never choose the likes of you." His tone was condescending. Speaking down about your homeland, you felt a rush of anger flow through you and you screamed into the gag only to be silenced by Izuku's palm hitting your cheek. Pain flowed through the right side of your cheek as Izuku continued his sermon.

"Do you know how much I had to beg father for letting me choose you? I fell in love with you the first time I ever saw you," he confessed his voice cracking "you looked so lonely like you were lost, looking for something. Something that you did not what was," his sniffling intensified. You recalled the first time you met him. It was Hitoshi Shinsou from Purpura's coronation. It had been three years since.

"For years I spent all my time thinking about you about us. I wasted hours looking for reasons why your Kingdom should be connected to Virdis. All for you throw it all away!" He screamed the last part, his words echoing. He sighed, "Why did you do this? Why did you let Kacchan corrupt you? I must ask, do you not have any self-respect? Going after a commoner while you had the Prince fallen head over heels for you? I don't believe this." Izuku laughed wickedly.

"Dignity is just a foreign concept to you, isn't it?" his eyes began darkening as lust and hatred filled his veins "I'm afraid I have to teach my stupid petal a lesson" He sighed, the heavy leather was cold in his hand as he twirled it idly between his fingers.

You heard the click of his boots away and back again. A brief silence fell on the room and a loud smack reverberated off the stone walls. You bit into the gag as she felt a sting on the inside of your thigh.

You heard the impact before you felt it, leather smacking abruptly against the skin, and the pain followed, searing hot.

He jerked your head up by your hair, his cheek pressed against hers as he growled, "keep your eyes on her Kacchan", he snarled. Your heart hammered.

'Kachhan?'

The crop whistled through the air and snapped against your breast, flicking against your already painfully hard nipple, almost blacking you out at the intensity of it.

He let the riding crop rise above his head and fall on your stomach, bruising the skin.

The sensation of the cold and smooth leather on your skin made goosebumps rise and your legs began to quiver. He walked around you, the item of torture dancing up your thigh. He traced the riding crop back up your right leg, spreading your legs further open, looking behind him making sure that Katsuki had his eyes on your naked core. Katsuki was tied down, his wrists bonded in heavy metal shackles, his legs tied down to the ground. A heavy collar was fixed around his neck which was chained to the wall. His eyes were pressed firmly together, tears prickling from the corners falling to his cheeks. His face was muzzled, unable to speak all he could do was groan.

"Keep looking, Kacchan," Izuku taunted, "If you don't, much worse things will happen to her," he growled and Katsuki looked up to see your swollen face with red marks covering your upper half. More tears fell from his eyes, he could not do anything. He had never felt this helpless in his life before.

Izuku turned back to you after addressing Katsuki. " Do you know? You deserve so much worse," he snarled, the strikes hitting down on your naked breast, stomach, and thighs at an ever-increasing frequency.

"Don't feel so smart now, do you?" He brought the riding crop down a dozen times, each blow quicker than the last and just as sharp until your flesh was warm and aching.

Kicking your legs open and apart, placing his feet between your thighs, making it impossible for you to close them. He scrapes his teeth against your shoulder, as a tender hand kneads at the cheek of your ass. He spanks it once, the echo of both the slap traveling down the hall.

He plants a kiss on your cheek "My petal looks so much prettier like this," His tone was now honeyed, as he ran his hands along with the bruises he made on your chest, running up and down your thighs, smearing a trail of your blood as it went, admiring his artwork, while your muscles twitching and tensing everywhere he touched.

His fingers fluttered as they moved to grip your upper arms and he jerked you back against him. His lips brushed yours' and you shivered.

"I've always been so good and lenient towards my petal. Let's see how good you can be for me."

A shiver rolled over your skin when you felt him behind you, taking one of your nipples between his thumb and finger; pinching and pulling it hard. You arch your back at the pleasured pain surging through your body. Izuku's fingers hooked around the waistband of his pants and began to work them off, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance. spreading your cheeks with his free hand as He nudges past your folds with his head lines up to your cunt. The stretch of his tip pressing into you tingles with a sizzling burn,

Hot and heavy against the shell of your ear, biting your earlobe lightly. His hair damps with sweat tickles over your neck as he whispers.

"You feel so good. Finally. You made me wait for so long while you jumped on Kacchan's dick three days after meeting him."

His hand took a hold of your tied up arms the other gripping your hip, his nails leaving tiny bloody crescent moon indents on the skin as he slammed forward, your body shook, trying to adjust to the sudden incredible fullness of his girth stinging against your walls, the pain has your fingers curling against the restraints and biting into the gag making you clench down around him, and he let out a long, sinful groan. He's swearing, alternating between muttered profanities and guttural moans as his cock twitched and pulsed inside you.

"Look at you taking my cock so well," he marveled, eyes locked on his dick disappearing inside you, "such a greedy little pussy." Izuku pauses every couple of moments to let you feel every inch, every vein on his dick until he reaches the hilt. "That's it, petal...take every inch of it." The nickname mocking you. "Aren't I much bigger than Kacchan?" He teased, His voice was low and filled with malice as he spat the name. You let out a muffled moan which confirmed his accusation.

"I told you," he said hoarsely, "to keep your fucking eyes on her!" Izuku grinned, punctuating the words with a sharp, powerful thrust that had her convulsing around him. He moaned loudly, grip loosening on your hair as he focused his energy on thrusting. Low groans and curses were spoken in your ear as his warm breath fanned over your neck.

Katsuki's face was covered with tears, his nose runny and dick hardening in his pants- it hurt. "Are you getting a boner right now? Kacchan!?" Izuku growled, "Poor Y/N is getting abused by the likes of me- Does that turn you on? You are a sick guy."

Katsuki wanted to shout, kick, punch- do anything to get you away from Izuku but while he was tied up and helpless all he could do was watch the love of his life get abused by his childhood friend, not so much now, listen to their groans and moans which unintentionally excited him. He sat crying and while he chased for release.

Izuku's moans echoed throughout the cell as he pounded harder so his pelvis smacked against your ass with each thrust. His hand reached down to rub your clit while his other hand groped at your breasts. He sucked in a breath through his clenched teeth. "Fuck!" He groaned "Oh fuck yeah."

He was slamming into you hard, fast, and so deep. The lewd sounds of your wetness and muffled moans filled the room. Your body went limp and you struggled for oxygen all you could hear was a shrill noise, unable to focus on anything but the pleasure. You feel yourself clenching on his dick as you cum.

Tangling a hand in your hair and yanking your head back forcefully. you arch helplessly into him as he breathily moans out your name and cums, filling your womb and coating your inner thighs with his seed. A broken wordless cry leaves your mouth as you feel him, grinding his hips in one last impossibly deep thrust. He slowly grew soft inside you, pulling out.

His ever so tight grip on your hips and hands leave as he tucks his soft cock back into his pants and zips it up. Your chest heaves up and down as you come down from your high. "You're going to have my children, dear Y/N," Izuku says as he marvels at the sight of saliva leaking from your mouth and down your chin he licks your gagged lips, slurping and drinking the drool dribbling down your chin.

Muffled screaming comes from the back, Katsuki screams into his muzzle as Izuku giggles, wood bangs and creaks, leather and iron brush against each other. Silence, the sound of uneven footsteps, then something cold, smooth, and stiff traces your abdomen. Cold metal runs between the valley of your breasts.

He loosens the blindfold and tosses it on the floor. Your eyes squint adjusting to the new-found brightness, he grabs your chin and forces you to meet his eyes. You stare at him with your eyes wide, your gaze reaches his left hand, the cold metal stroking your body- a gun. It rests in his hands elegantly and you start thinking the awful things he could do with it.

He smirks and pushes your heads towards your side where you see Katsuki.

His face is stained with tears, his eyes bloodshot, wide-open looking at you muttering unspoken apologies from them. You return the sorry look and he eases, your eyes soften as silence fills the room. Katsuki and you stare longingly into each other's eyes exchanging apologies and empathy. The found moment is cut short as Izuku growls.

"What is wrong with you two!?!?" He screams as he walks towards Katsuki and removes his muzzle in one swift motion. "You fuckin' bastard! I will kill you!!" After enduring what felt like hours of emotional torture, finally speaks up he shouts and tries to bite Izuku's hand but Izuku backs away. He notices that Katsuki is still hard, a dent visible in his tight-fitting pants.

"Oh, Kacchan," He sneers. "It must be difficult trying to fight me off while you're still stuck."

Izuku comes closer this time with his gun raised over Katsuki's forehead. "Don't try anything funny, Kacchan. You wouldn't do what I would do to her if I kill you like this." He points his gun at your direction, your brows furrowed with worry. Katsuki stays still as he waits for Izuku's instruction. "Like I was saying, it must be difficult holding up a fight while you're still distracted but, since I am your childhood friend who cares deeply about our fond memories-"

"Yeah, the ones where I beat you up and you run to daddy?" Katsuki snickers and you internally groan this man did not know when to shut his mouth.

"I will pretend you did not say that. Now," Izuku reaches towards Katsuki and releases him from his chains, keeping the gun up in the air to remind who is in charge. Katsuki rubs his wrist and glares at his former green-haired friend. "for the sake of our friendship" The phrase dipped in poison, he goes behind you and grabs your thighs forcing your closed legs to open. "You have one last go before I exile you from Virdis." He speaks of you like you're an object. The dehumanization brings back tears in your eyes and Katsuki frowns. "I don't care about what you do to me. Exile me, even kill me, leave Y/N alone." Katsuki spits his furry evident in his tone and Izuku sighs, he lets go of your thighs and brings the gun next to our head.

"This is Y/N's punishment, and I can do whatever I wish to do with her. She belongs to me." he snarls, "If you don't fuck her now, I will blow her brains out."

You panic, his words settling in your head. You look at Katsuki and he looks away, clenching his jaw he looks back at you. He walks up to you, "Good, good" Izuku continues.

Katsuki mutters out a low sorry while he unzips his pants and his dick bounces free, the head red and angry. Katsuki grips your waist as Izuku lets go of your legs, he rubs his dick against your slit and groans. You moan behind your gag as you feel him entering you, Katsuki grabs your legs and entraps them behind his back. He pushes into you, your walls already slick and dripping with Izuku's cum welcome him warmly. Pulling him in as he pushes himself to the hilt.

He growls through his teeth thrusting in and out, biting on your shoulder. You moan out louder, louder than you did for Izuku. Even while your gag muffled your moans he could tell how much you were enjoying Katsuki.

Katsuki captures your hard nipple in his mouth and swirls around it with his warm tongue, his finger reaches down to your clit and rubs on it driving you closer to your edge. Katsuki's thrusts get sloppier and Izuku screams, "Don't you dare finish inside her!" unable to process what Izuku said over the mind-numbing pleasure, you feel yourself clench on Katsuki's dick as you cummed on his dick.

"Ah, fuck, baby," Katsuki whispered in your ear as he came inside you, behind you Izuku became furious.

"You fucking bastard!" He screamed as he pulled Katsuki off you by his collar and slammed him on the cold ground. "Die," He growled as he pressed his gun to Katsuki's forehead and you screamed on your gag.

Katsuki knew he was done for. He looked at you one last time fondly and said, "I love you, Y/N. I will wait for you, always."

"Shut the fuck up, she does not love you." Izuku spat as he hit Katsuki at the side of his head. "Die, bastard. You thought you could steal the love of my life and get away with it, you deserve this. Never thought your innocent little Deku would do something like this, now did you?" Izuku clocks his gun, he looks back at you. You are covered in drool and tears, your cheeks still flushed pink.

"My dear petal, this is why you don't thwart me. This is your fault, because of you, I have to kill my friend! Because of you, a great man will die tonight." Izuku taunts.

You glance back at Katsuki, knowing he is going to die while all you could do was watch. More tears fall from your eyes as Izuku presses the trigger and Katsuki falls dead.

This was truly the worst.

You couldn’t even wail out in distress the ball gag in your mouth made it hard to scream. Trying your best to break free from your restraints so you could touch your dying lover for the last time.

But you couldn’t. All you could do was struggle as sweat rolled from your forehead and cum dried on your thighs, leaking from your abused hole. Katsuki looked at you as he lost his consciousness. He smiled softly looking at you through his eyes, squinting so he could focus on your image.

“You were the best thing that ever happened to me, Y/N..” He said his final words and the glass box of logic and reason in your mind broke. Your eyes grew wide as tears rolled down your cheeks, your nose runny as you screamed into the gag. You had just watched the love of your life die the worst possible death possible, and you couldn’t blame anyone but yourself. Not even the monster who was responsible for your beloved’s death. Your vision started to blacken and your body limps  as exhaustion crept up over you.

All of your selfish choices.

This was the outcome

(bonus)

When you came to your senses your body was aching all over, both inside and out.

"Awe petal, don't look so scared," he cooed as if he just did not kill a man.

Izuku was holding you, playing with your hair as he cuddled you to his chest. He placed a light kiss on the crown of your head. Tears stung your eyes as you cuddled closer to him.

"I'll lock you up and throw away the fucking key if you ever even think about doing anything like that again, do you hear me?"

"Y-yes," you say as you exhale shakily.

Izuku tucks some hair behind your ear and grips your jaw, your cheeks squishing and lips puckering slightly. He kisses your lips and smiles.

"I love you, petal." you feel his lips on your aching skin. he licks a stripe up your neck soothing the wounds, "mine," burrowing his face into your neck "all mine."

You lean forward placing your lips on his, exchanging kisses You wanted to scream and cry out instead you let out a small moan. You wished you were gagged again.

"None of this would've ever happened if you weren't such a whore, poor Kacchan would've been alive"

You felt a constriction in your chest at the sound of his name.

planting kisses on your collarbone.

 "Tell me you love me," He growls into your throat and bites the flesh

You remained silent

"I shouldn't have to repeat myself."

"I love you so much Izuku," you forced the words out as you exhale shakily your tears flowing once again.

"Be good for me baby. We wouldn't want to see those tears again."

Right before you finally fall asleep, you feel his fingers intertwining with yours in a vice-like grip, his lips peppering kisses all across your face