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jarofstyles · 4 years ago

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Can you guys do a cowboy h check in since we got the snl pics!!! Hopefully some smut... please

Yes 😎 - D

“Fuck me.”

Y/N felt hot. There was no other way to describe it. Nothing got her going more than seeing her man out at work.

While Harry did tend to work a lot with the business aspect of the ranch now, he always filled in duties and when it meant working the field and herding the cows, that was no exception. Today though, it was lifting and putting the bales of hay up into the loft with a few of the ranch hands and Matt.

Her eyes were glazed as she sat on the fence, petting one of their older mates who wanted some attention. Harry always looked good, of course. But there was something about him taking off his flannel after hauling heavy stacks of hay up to the loft, sweat dripping down his face and body as he wiped it with the dry bit of his shirt that had him going.

A throb in between her thighs, watching as he leaned his head back and let the cool breeze wash over his body as he finally got a moment to rest. Her mouth watered as she watched his sweat damp hair be finger combed out of his face, a smile on his flushed cheeks as he laughed at some sort of joke being told. The bottle of water in her bag was the perfect excuse to get a better look.

Harry was hot and a bit out of it from the heat he raised, only realizing his pretty girl was coming over when the wind caught a bit of her sweet cherry blossom scent and waved it over. He could recognize it anywhere.

“‘Scuse me. Got to go see what my woman needs.” He murmured, getting a pat on the back as he walked towards the girl. She wore a blue checked sundress today, actually buying into the country look- and god if it didn’t get to him. “There y’are, gorgeous. What are you doin’ out here?” He asked as he approached. She had a bit of a look on her face though, almost like she was drunk? That had him a bit confused.

“Was just walking around. Saying hi to Cinnamon.” She nodded over to the mare. “Was gonna bring yoh a water cause....” her eyes dropped down his body, taking in the droplets of sweat and making her tongue wet. “Y’look like you need it.”

Sometimes he could be oblivious, Harry. He wasn’t unaware of the fact he was attractive. It just wasn’t in the forefront of his mind. It drove her absolutely mad. She felt... he had to know what he was doing. When he took off the cap and dropped his head back, drinking the water up quick and messy, greedy, she almost moaned. The water dripped down his slick chin and her poor cunt... her clit was already swelling and needy, her body soft and ready for the taking. He needed to touch her.

The water was finished and it was sure to say, so was she. Harry watched in a bit of confusion as she approached further, wanting to warm her that he was sweaty and probably not a joy to touch. But his mouth seemed to dry right back up as he watched her glazed over eyes and her hand grab his belt buckle, coming to rest her other hand on his slightly sticky chest.

“Do you know how insane you make me?” She whispered coyly. Their bodies shielded by the truck, she pushed for him to lean against it. “When y’walk around and look the way you do? When you.... sit there and look so fucking sexy doing all that hard work?” She asked, looking nearly frustrated now. Her hand left his belt and tugged his hand between her legs.

“Feel.” She pressed it up against the damp fabric. His mouth dropped open, brows shooting up in surprise after her behavior. They’d been adventurous before and all that. But he was completely taken off guard by her risky move. They’d talked about it but... seeing it happen in practice was something else.

He curled his fingers against the fabric feeling as it was soaked through and hot to the touch. “Did you....” he swallowed, dropping his voice. “Did you get this wet just from watching me work?” His question received a whimpered nod, hips moving slowly against his hand. It was quite a victory for him. He hasn’t done a thing and he had his girl worked up to bits.

His own cock began to thicken at the mere idea of it all. Her leaning against the fence and watching him, thinking about how he got just as sweaty during their more intense sex and how she was probably wanting to bite him.

“Mhm. Yes sir.” She whispered a “just... look so good like that. It’s so sexy when you get all sweaty m’your working, all your muscle and your scruff.... and you fucked me so, so good last night.... I wanted more.” She pressed a peck to the middle of his chest before laying her tongue flat. Licking the slightly salty skin, dragging it up to his neck and ending with a bite on the smooth expanse of it.

Harry groaned, his hand closing around her hair and taking it in a makeshift ponytail. He was about to crash his mouth back on to hers when he heard a call.

“We’re showering and heading to the bar. Meet you there?” It was Matt, and Harry could hear pickup’s starting.

“Yeah. See y’there!” He managed to keep his voice steady as he felt y/n’s mouth lick up behind his ear, his hand working between her legs on its own now and her nails digging slightly into his chest as she pressed herself into him.

As soon as he watched the last of the men roll away? He was tired of waiting. Opening the backseat of his truck, he climbed up and lifted her up with him. Manhandling her and making her straddle his lap.

She giggled, hands going for his belt and trying her best to yank it off before the zipper of his jeans was down.

“Need it. Need you to be inside of me, H. You’re so... fucking hot.” She whimpered, not even taking a moment to take off her panties. As soon as he was fished out of his pants, she began to rub the tip through her folds, tugging the fabric to the side.

“Just can’t help it, can you?” Harry laughed lowly as he felt her hot pussy against his cock. Being dragged through it and feeling it slick him up, it was heavenly. But not as much as when she sank down on him with little warning.

“Oh, fuck me” he moaned, leaning his head back against the glass of the window. The door was still open. It was sundown, meaning everyone was either gone or not in this barn, and he was thankful for it- though he truly wouldn’t give a fuck right now. Not when he was balls deep in his woman.

Y/N wrapped her arms around his shoulders as she rolled her hips. So full, so fucking deep and she was feeling what she had been craving. “Yes, yeah. This is what I needed, sir. Needed this thick fucking cock inside of me again. Once a day isn’t enough.” She was on a quite horny streak lately but he couldn’t ever complain about that. Instead, he smirked, sliding his hands under her dress and take control of her ass.

“Mm. I know it is, my dirty girl. I spend all day riding... and now you’re gonna be my pretty baby and ride me?” He cooed. “S’what I thought. Such a sweet cunt, swallows me up and let’s me stretch it out... go on.” He smacked her ass. “Let’s see it bounce.”

Harry when she rode him was something out of a book. She swore it. The attractive arrogance, the way he made her want to work for it and the pure, smug satisfaction he got from it only made her want to prove even more to him. The easy smirk he had on his face, the pleasure he would show he felt, it spurred her on to give him what he needed to fall apart.

She whined, breath hitching as she lifted up to slide back down. Both of them moaned at the feeling, their indecent act being covered by her dress skirt but the danger and thrill was still there. Open car door in the middle of the barn lot. The slick sound of her pussy sliding up and down on his length, their shuddery breaths and moans.

“That’s my good girl, darlin’. Take what you need from me. Ride me. Feels so good to be swallowed up by you.” He exhaled, watching her face as her mouth dropped open in pleasure. Going in and out of her, the little squelch of her slickness costing him and making the job easier. “Have such a greedy pussy.” He kissed her deep, murmuring against her mouth.

“Better believe it’s all mine. Property of H. Hm? My girl’s perfect pussy... and this ass.” He raised one brow and slipped his thumb between the cheeks, making the strangled moan escape her. “Mhm. No one knows my beautiful girl is so utterly filthy. S’why I love her so much.” He pressed the thumb into the rim, making her thighs shake a bit.

“Yeah.... see, that’s it. This is it. You’re riding me in the lot because you got all wet while I worked. Imagine what the people would say? Knowing that you’re a greedy, dirty girl? Wants the most filthy and indecent things.” He watched her as she nodded, leaning her forehead against his.

She was dirty. Y/N was a slut, she would say, but only for Harry. She loved being touched and fucked and used by him. He managed to check every one of her boxes and she was in love with him... so there was no reason not to be her filthiest self with him. It got her off though. Knowing Harry knew these things and got to be the one to experience them. His finger in her ass paired with the need and fullness she felt had her approaching her breaking point.

“Gonna cum. Gonna cum so hard, Sir. Please? Please, please. Can I?” She begged, fingers grabbing his wet hair as she began to fuck herself harder on his cock. The filthy sounds and the heat was getting to the both of them, her thighs sweaty and he could feel it on him. Their skin sticky and her cunt dripping around him, their appeal for both of them was getting to the end.

“Mhm. The first time.” He earned, eyes dark and full of promise. She had awoken the monster bit of him that was ready to go for a few rounds. “Cum for me.” Car sex hadn’t ever been so good. Not with her whimpers and tugging at his hair, this thumb in her ass and her cunt clenching up, sucking him over and over until- she came.

A squeal. She let out the most adorable, sexy squeal as her whole body shook. His jeans wet with her arousal, he held her down on his length as she rocked back and forth frantically to work herself through it, clit getting it’s friction and his thumb pressing in further to make her drop her head.

“Yes! Please please.... oh my god. M’cumming.” Her voice broke as she soaked him, clutching him and her cunt clenching up and keeping him locked in place. Having her sitting on him like this and shivering at the pleasure pulsing through her body only spurred him on more.

This was just the begging.

His hand worked down her back, kissing all over her head as he let her ride it out. It had taken everything in him not to cum the first time, just watching his girl bounce and her tits right in his face- but he had plans for her.

“There she is. My beautiful, good girl. Feels so good... did such an amazing job.” He soothed, letting her catch her breath. As soon as she calmed slightly, he took her mouth and kissed her deeply, tongue messily brushing hers and letting her feel his passion for her.

“Now.... want you over the hood of the pickup.”

#blurb #smut blurb #smut ask #cowbrry #cowboy!harry #ranchrry #rancher!harry #ranch #home on the range #cowboyh!blurb

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honeymoonjin · 5 years ago

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: exactly 7777 words how sexy is that || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: voyeurism, filmed sex, public sex/outdoor sex, oral (f receiving), jin being a little shit just because he can, vmin mxm scene, bath sex, unprotected sex, fingering/anal play, anal sex, creampie, the most tender smut scene in this whole fic goes to these fucking boys

ᴀ/ɴ: banner designed by @jamaisjoons, thank you to my sfhs girls who help with brainstorming every week xx, i’m so sorry if this feels rushed or too short, i didn’t want to leave you hanging for three weeks : (

DAY NINE

One thing you learn the morning after, is that Hoseok is a deceptively bad cook.

Of course you’re grateful for the breakfast in bed he kindly prepared you and Jungkook - the latter still half-asleep and unable to go more than five seconds without yawning - but it’s hard to comprehend that the man in front of you now, eating cereal with a fork, is the same one that wrecked you so elegantly last night.

“Why is the toast chewy? Are we still being punished?” Jungkook moans sombrely around a mouthful, eyes dazed.

Hoseok sets his fork back in the bowl with a clatter, reaching out to poke Jungkook with a foot. “Be grateful, brat. I made that out of love.”

The younger man stares bleakly down at his plate. “I’d love to have a pancake right now instead.”

You wince at Hoseok’s disappointed expression, taking a mouthful of the strangely floppy toast. “It’s… nice and warm,” you offer up, failing to find anything else to compliment.

Hoseok beams. “Thank you. While I was doing my cereal, it got a bit cold, so I heated it up in the microwave.”

Your heart sinks despairingly into your stomach, which roils at the prospect. “Ah,” you muse hollowly.

“Eat up!” the dom cheers. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” Still smiling proudly, he digs his fork into the almost full bowl of cereal and begins chowing down.

Jungkook shares a silent stare with you, and you turn back to your plate. “Thanks for breakfast, Hoseok,” you sigh, and brace yourself for the meal ahead.

After breakfast, you get dressed in a pair of shorts and a comfy shirt, planning on spending the day inside relaxing. But the moment you see Jin and Taehyung running around on the gravel outside, a small darting form evading their flailing arms, you realise how foolish you were to expect that a day in the villa could be anything remote to uneventful.

Rushing out the front door still in your socks, you step down to the base of the concrete entryway, staring in shock at the two men.

Taehyung’s face is bright with a boxy grin, laughing maniacally as he rushes to and fro, still in his version of pyjamas - loose boxer shorts and a Celine Dion t-shirt. “Hyung, that way!” he hoots cheerily to Jin, feet crunching noisily on the gravel.

The other man, considerably less happy (or perhaps the frown was one of absolute concentration), huffs at the command. “It’s your fuckin’ dog, Tae, why isn’t it going to you?”

Between them, panting and grinning, is a small dog with short fur, nails clicking on the gravel. It can’t be taller than knee-height, with wide eyes and a small black nose. It probably is white or cream coloured, but the thick crusting of dirt all over makes it hard to tell.

“It’s not my dog, I just found him!” Taehyung insists, before crouching down, clicking his tongue. “Mango, c’mere boy! Come to daddy.”

Jin comes to a stop with a groan, chest heaving. “Well, now you’re just going to scar the poor thing.”

Taehyung glares, but doesn’t stop cooing at the dog, who’s now eying him up suspiciously. “Come on, boy, daddy just wants to help, he’ll give you a nice, warm bath and some treats. Sound nice, Mango? C’mere!”

With the cool disdain that you’ve never seen in a dog before, Mango lifts his chin and turns tail, gracefully trotting over to Jin, rubbing his face against the man’s shin.

Taehyung gasps in abject horror at the betrayal, sinking fully onto the rough gravel of the driveway, but Jin just grins and bends down, gently scratching the dog’s head.

You let out a disbelieving laugh at the scene, drawing their attention. “What is going on?”

Immediately, the two men point at each other accusingly, the dog - Mango - snuffling at Jin’s hand when he realises his petting has ceased.

Jin calmly resumes stroking the mutt with a mellow expression. “Taehyung kidnapped a dog.”

“I did not!” the younger man protests vehemently. “I found him wandering around all by himself and I put out some food for him.” Taehyung turns to you with desperate eyes. “Jin called him filthy!”

“I did,” the therapist admits easily, “‘cause he is.” Crouching down, he gets closer to eye-level and pouts. “All this mud and dirt on you, hm? Not nice, is it? Poor bo-” Jin cuts himself off as the dog rolls over on its back, wiggling against the gravel happily. The three of you stare in silence for a few moments at Mango, before Jin slowly pans up to stare at Taehyung. “You thought Mango was a boy this whole time?”

Taehyung scratches his head with a helpless shrug. “Well, I didn’t think to check his dick for confirmation! I mean, her dick. No dick. Uh…”

Jin’s ignoring him, however, in favour of giving Mango tummy rubs, grinning at the whipping of her tail as it wags. “Oh, Taehyungie is so mean to you, isn’t he? Poor girl. I wouldn’t trust him with a cactus,” he admits in a mock whisper.

“I resent that,” Taehyung shouts lowly, voice getting louder as he gets worked up, “Cactuses don’t even have dicks, so it wouldn’t be an issue.”

“Neither does Mango,” Jin quips sharply.

“Hey!” the younger boy yells, pouting at the sight of Mango snuggling up to Jin so willingly.

From behind, the sudden bang of a fist on glass makes you jump. Whirling around, you watch in bewilderment as Jimin rushes outside, eyes wide and mouth rounded at the sight.

“What the fuck is all the racket about?” he exclaims in bewilderment. “We’re trying to watch a movie but we can’t hear a thing over the sounds you’re- is that a dog?”

“Mango!” Taehyung chimes. “H- She’s my dog!”

“That wasn’t what you said earlier,” Jin begins, and Jimin tuts loudly to break off the bantering.

“Goodness, she’s a skinny little thing,” Jimin says with worry, passing you to go crouch beside Jin. He holds a hand out and smiles softly as Mango presses her nose into his palm. “Dirty, too. There’s a hose out back that does warm water, let’s clean her off and get her some food.”

Your heart warms at the same fond tone in his voice that you’d heard at Mrs. Park’s house. “I’ll go get some soap and towels,” you offer, “I need to go get my shoes on anyway.”

Jimin, already fully dressed in tight blue jeans and a white t-shirt - the most casual you’d seen him yet - turns around to nod at you. “Thank you,” he chirps, “we’ll be around back.”

By the time you get ready and come back with the supplies, Taehyung is already manning the hose, running his fingers through the stream to wait for it to warm up as he chats away with Jimin. Clearly a fan of the oldest, Mango is still happily hanging around Jin’s ankles, whole body wagging as she gets her ears scratched.

Jimin glances up when you round the corner, and rushes forward to take the items from your hands. “Thank you, let’s hope-” He pauses, staring down at the bottle. “Is this my hand-soap?”

You suppress a sheepish grin. “It says mild and unscented, I thought it would be better for Mango than body wash.”

“Fair enough,” Jimin allows, before turning back around to the other two. “Alright, let’s hope Mango likes water.”

As it turns out, Mango positively thrives with the water, panting happily as her fur is soaked with the warm water. Crouching to your side, you squirt some soap out onto her back, and you and Jimin begin massaging it in on either side of her while Jin holds up her head to keep it free from suds.

It takes a while, but Mango is patient, and you’re determined to make sure all the grit and dirt accumulated from a life of sleeping rough is washed away. Beneath the matted filth is beautiful white fur, the palest brown in places. With tiny feet and delicate ears, she may be a mutt but she’s a beautiful one, and out of the corner of your eye you can see Jin’s fond smile as he stares into her baleful eyes.

Taehyung rinses her down, the suds collecting on the back lawn, and before any of you even think to get away, Mango braces herself and shakes, spraying droplets all over the four of you.

Closest to her body, it’s you and Jimin that cop most of the downpour, and you hiss at the feeling of it soaking your shirt and running down your neck. Taehyung gasps and ditches the hose to chuck a towel over her wet body, but the damage has been done.

Across from you, on the other side of Mango, Jimin’s pink lips are rounded gracefully in a gasp, eyes clenched shut. You can’t help but grin as he slowly blinks away the water in his eyes with a low moan of disappointment, the delicately-applied makeup now smudging, a watery layer of mascara ringing his eyes. When he stretches up into a crouch, his pants are spotted with water though mostly okay, and it’s clear his shirt displays the majority of the water.

Clinging to him obscenely, the thin white cotton is made see-through with the effect of Mango’s shake-off. It exposes the harsh black lines of his tattoo, which winds around his ribcage, nevermind. You’d seen it laid bare twice before, but you’d been too wound up from his teasing to even really look. Now, though, you admire the way it stands out so starkly even behind a layer of fabric, the edges blurred but still strong and pure black.

As he huffs and wrings out the fabric, Taehyung cackles behind him, and Jimin’s face darkens. Without any time for the younger man to react, Jimin’s grabs the still-running hose and turns it onto Taehyung, drenching him with a triumphant yell.

“Hey!” Taehyung screeches, hair covering his eyes heavily as his pyjamas sag against his body. “No fair!”

You jump away as Taehyung begins to wrestle with Jimin for the hose, the two grinning like idiots even as they scrabble.

Jin, calmly patting down Mango, chooses to instead lift her into his arms bundled in the towel. He crooks his head at you. “Let’s go down to the pool and dry off a bit in the sun,” he suggests. “Save getting caught in the middle of this battle.”

You squint against the glare of the late morning sun that glints off the pool. You’ve never been there yourself or seen anyone swim in it, and its lack of use is clear by the uneven layer of leaves that floats across its surface. “If you dunk me in that dirty-ass pool, I’ll kill you.” Even with the venom in your words, you follow him over, the chaos of the two boys left behind growing quieter and quieter.

“Don’t worry,” Jin assures you sweetly, “I’ll clean it first.” With that, he steps up onto the concrete patio that surrounds the large rectangle and makes his way over to the three haphazard pool chairs beside the edge. “You and Mango can relax here.”

Eying him suspiciously, you sit on the gauzy canvas of one of the lounge chairs and lean back, letting out a sigh as the warm of the sun settles onto your skin like a blanket. “Fine,” you sigh out, too comfortable to protest, “just while Mango dries off.”

Jin works quietly, without haste. All you hear as you throw an arm over your eyes is the occasional tinkling of water and the snuffling of the dog Jin sat down beside you.

With the sun beating down on you, warming your soaked shirt, you let your mind wander lazily. You hadn’t really had a chance to properly think after the elimination. Or lack of, you suppose. All of Monday had you feeling a strange mix of relief and guilt, until Hoseok served your penance and allowed you to put your mind at ease again. Now, though, you take a chance to think over how the game has changed.

It was moments like earlier, when groups of you were together and laughing, that made you happy to be here. The thought that you were no longer evicting one contestant a week felt like a hundred-year burden finally being lifted off your shoulders.

Though of course, with all the good, came bad, too. The guys said they wouldn’t take you personally, and at least now everyone would know the decision was based on sex alone, but it didn’t take a psychic to see how bad things could turn if someone took it wrong. Already you can picture fights, sulking, resentment, and the thought scares you.

And then the punishment for you touching them. It was something you hadn’t seen coming for a second, though all of Sejin’s twists had gotten you off-guard. The thought that the other guys would have control over what you wore if you ever slipped up gives you pause. You’re confident in your body, but they would be well within their rights to make you wear something humiliating. You bite down hard on your tongue. Just don’t fuck the outed members, you hiss at yourself. Easy as that.

Not so easy, perhaps, when the thought of every one of them made your heart ache and shift in your chest.

“You aren’t asleep, are you?”

You shoot up in fright at the sudden exclamation, startled out of your train of thought. “No, what?” your tongue fumbles, before you squint in front of you to the poolside and your mouth drops open.

As casual as ever, Jin stands on the far edge, leaning his weight on a long leaf skimmer, the net resting on the end of the pole, above his head. That isn’t what has your attention, though. As you raise a hand to block the sun, you feel your mouth water at the sight of him standing in nothing but a pair of dark grey boxers, hand on his hip casually like it’s nothing out of the ordinary.

“What the fuck are you doing?” is the only thing your mind can think to say.

Jin chuckles, the motion making his broad shoulders jump up and down. Your mouth drops wider open, eyes roaming his figure. Basking in the attention, he smiles broadly. “Cleaning your pool,” he answers easily, “Miss Y/n.”

Your brows knit together. “My po- Oh.” You take a moment to analyse the situation - single lady on the pool chair watching as a hot and scantily-clad young man cleans it for her. Pool boy. A bemused giggle bubbles up your throat as you remember Jin’s disbelieving reaction when he drew the card. “Really?”

Jin just shrugs. “I’m just here to do my job, Miss. Saving up money for college. But it’s so hot out here that-” Jin breaks off with a pout as you begin to crack up, curling over your own torso with the force of it. “Hey! Why are you laughing at me?”

You try to let your laughter die down enough to speak, still giggling wetly as your eyes tear up a bit from it. “Sa-saving up for college,” you make out before cracking up again. “You don’t have to pay to be a professor, Jinnie.”

His mouth drops open in offence at your quip, letting the leaf skimmer clatter onto the concrete dramatically. On the chair beside you, Mango wakes up with a start at the noise and flees, scampering off in the direction of the villa. Still offended, Jin turns and makes his way around the edge of the pool towards you with a huff. “The disrespect these days,” he declares, “I’m just a poor uni student trying to make a quick buck and all you’re doing is insulting me.”

You sit up, watching him keep your gaze step by step. The sun is beautiful on him, honeying his brown hair and bronzing the smooth skin of his chest, shoulders and arms. He’s beautiful, but of course he doesn’t need you telling him to know that. “You shouldn’t talk back to your employer, Jinnie,” you quip as he nears.

As intimidating as someone can be wearing nothing but underwear - you can spy his clothes haphazardly strewn on the concrete on the other side of the patio - Jin steps in front of the lounge chair, blotting out the sun with his broad back. “Luckily for you,” he answers smoothly, “I just finished. I’ll just collect the cash and get out of your hair.”

You stare up at him, eyes aching now that they’re not fighting against the glare of the sun. Even though you’ve never been in this situation before, and certainly don’t have much experience with role-play, the words come easy to you. “But I don’t have any money.”

His grin turns wolfish, like he’d been hoping you’d say that. Your stomach flips as he lifts one leg over the end of the lounge chair, straddling it. “I suppose I’ll just have to claim my payment in some other way.”

Your heart races as he sits down, boxers doing nothing to hide his straining erection. “Like what?” you ask weakly, breath hitching as his fingers stretch out to brush over the button of your shorts.

Jin’s eyes are hot on yours, twin points of heat everywhere they roam. First between your legs, then up to meet your gaze. “Will you let me taste you?” he asks, previous humour completely evaporated. He stares at you intensely, like nothing else is as important as this, and you find yourself nodding before you even process it.

“Wait,” you gasp as he slips open the button, zip sliding down smoothly, “out here? The others-”

“Have gone inside,” Jin cuts in easily, fingers dipping below the hem of your panties. Your breath hitches, hips lifting to help him slip them off your legs and onto the concrete beside, shoes and socks following. “We’re alone.”

The warmth of the chair’s fabric below you is strange on your skin, but Jin isn’t content with just your core being exposed. Tapping your arm, he guides you to raise them as he lifts your shirt, tossing it away in the same direction. Almost bare for him, the only thing that remains is your bra, and without hesitation his fingers find the clasp, leaning forward to capture your mouth with his suddenly as he slips the bra down your arm.

Naked beneath him, you whimper into his mouth as he presses his chest against you, arms caging you on either side. It’s been a long time since you’ve kissed him, and it feels just as heady as last time, his lips soft but so firm and thorough as they claim you.

Jin kisses with all his energy, like it’s his only purpose, and the intense way he works your mouth open and licks up into it, swirling his tongue dizzily over yours has you hooked on him, needing more even as he gives you more than you feel you can handle.

After a time, you feel him shift, and you groan past swollen lips as he slides down your body, trailing an unbroken line of kisses down your throat and chest until he’s cupping a breast in his hand, hot mouth descending on a stiff peak. You cry out, back arching with the delicious stimulation as he suckles on it needily.

“Still so sensitive,” he remarks with a chuckle, and any protest at his teasing tone is lost under the indulgent way he flicks his tongue over the bud, circling it deftly. It’s sinful, the way you watch him, watch his eyes close in bliss and your peak roll under the ministrations of his tongue, like a show of what’s to come.

Once he gives a final wet suck to bring it to its full stiffness, he moves across to the other one, thumbing the first lazily to keep those hot coals of pleasure burning inside you.

Sensing you can take it, he’s rougher with the second nipple, tugging at it with his teeth, sucking harshly and laving his tongue over it when you whimper at the sting. “Perfect for me,” his voice makes out in a gravelled tone, “you’re like a fucking four-course meal.”

You chuckle airily, though it’s cut off by a hitched whimper as he ventures lower yet again, letting his tongue and lips lead the way over the skin of your stomach, until you can feel the warmth of his breath where you need to feel him most. “Jinnie,” you breathe pleadingly, toes curling as he dips out his tongue to wet his lips.

“Will you be good while I taste you, hm?” Jin questions lowly, voice silken like his lips.

You nod with a swallow, but your throat has gone dry just watching him. The sight of his fingers digging in to the flesh of your thighs, his lips pursing, his eyes swirling with mischief and lust. “Need you, Jinnie,” you find yourself pleading again.

He hums in bemusement, and you unconsciously hold your breath as he finally dips his head down. The first contact isn’t his tongue at all, but his lips, pressed to the upper seam of your thigh. You gasp, core clenching, but he pays no mind, laying a delicate trail across your thigh, until he jumps over and begins the other side.

With a whine, you part your legs wider, bare feet grazing on the sunbaked concrete. The rough texture reminds you of the fact that you’re outside, bared to the world, and you whine again. “Jinnie, hurry.”

“Patience,” he chastises lowly, pinching the inner of your thigh between two fingers to make you jump. “I cleaned out the pool for you, the least you can do is let me enjoy you.”

You swallow down your needy moan, head falling back against the lounge chair. “Sorry,” you gasp out instead, hoping he appreciates your manners and takes mercy on you.

Instead, he just grins. “So polite,” the therapist muses, “I wonder how long that’ll last.” One at a time, slow like he’s drawing out your anticipation, he lifts your legs onto his broad shoulders, tilting your hips up to expose you to him better.

The moment he touches his tongue to your core, you know you’re fucked.

Languid, exploratory, he delves the muscle through your folds, swirling once around your sensitive clit before dipping back down again. You sigh out, enjoying every motion, but it’s far too slow, and he knows it.

As you glance down, his lips are stretched in a slick grin, which he makes no attempt to mask. Obscenely, he wraps his lips around one of yours and sucks, slurping at your juices without shame.

You sob, thighs tensing, but he holds you open calmly and gives the same ministration to the other side, collecting your arousal on his tongue like he’s savouring it. More and more leaks out of you at the feeling of him going down on your for his own pleasure, and he groans in approval.

In his grasp, you attempt to cant your hips down to angle your clit closer to his roving tongue, but he deftly ignores your attempt, devouring you at his own pace.

After the clouds pass, the sun pierces your eyes again, and you throw an arm over your face to block it out, body writhing under his slow stimulation. “Ji-Jinnie,” you hiccup, but he doesn’t even reply, fingers clutching tighter at your thighs and ass to latch you onto him firmer.

When a breeze picks up, it wafts over you, cooling the spit on your nipples and peaking them even more, and you shiver at the feeling. Hearing a distant swishing sound, you lift your arm up and glance towards the source, only to go stiff once you see.

About ten metres away, the outdoor dining area is not as empty as it was before, Yoongi pausing with two plates full of cooked meat and potatoes, eyes directly locked on you. With a flip of arousal and dread, you watch as more members of the house file out; Jungkook, Namjoon and Hoseok joining him and gawking when they see you and Jin.

Cheeks flushing violently, you push at Jin’s head. “They-they’re out here, Jin, you need to stop-” you break off as he pulls back and glances over, chin and lips shiny with your arousal.

“Lunchtime,” Yoongi calls out with a wry grin, and you groan as he continues to set the table outside, the younger ones following suit. Namjoon seems the most startled of the four, but not one of them has looked away. Jungkook’s eyes are so wide you can see them rounded from here, a hand pressing to the front of his crotch.

You make another effort to wriggle out of Jin’s grip, but without even looking at you he keeps you locked in, spread for him. “Thanks, but I’m already eating!” he quips proudly, and you sob in embarrassment at the pun, covering your hands and scrunching your eyes shut.

Unable to see, however, you’re taken off-guard when Jin suddenly descends on you like a man starved. You go stiff and shriek at the sudden strong suck on your clit, before clapping a palm over your mouth. The distant sounds of the guys having lunch just makes you drip more, and Jin doesn’t miss it.

“You like that, dirty girl?” You sob at the question, but he just chuckles lowly. “Acting all shy, all coy, but this pussy of yours just loves being watched. Shall we give them a show?”

You barely have time to muster a wordless cry in response before his tongue, lips and teeth are ravishing you with only one intent: to bring you to a screaming orgasm.

You writhe as much as his grip allows you, overtaken by the sudden onslaught of pleasure, but it’s inescapable. While you can muffle your moans with your fist, biting harshly on your knuckles, there’s no denying the four men dining outside can see the way you tremble and arch, and the thought just makes you cry out more.

Your high arrives quickly as you squeeze your eyes shut, not bearing to look towards the voyeurs or even Jin as his tongue delves deep into you, nose nudging your clit as he goes.

Risking a glance over to the dining area quickly, it’s the sight of all four men sitting down, eyes heavy on you as the food remains untouched that sends you over the edge.

You reach out desperately for Jin; one hand buried into his hair and the other clutching at his hand. He holds onto you tightly as he works you through your orgasm until your thighs are shaking and your chest is heaving with the force of it.

When the tremors finally subside, he presses one last kiss to your sensitive clit, and then lets your legs down. You pant quietly as he sits up and pats your pussy playfully with a grin. To your confusion, he then stands up and rubs at the red texture marks that the gauzy fabric of the lounge chair has imprinted, and begins to walk off towards the house.

You frown, sitting up with a still-racing heart. “Where are you going?” you question incredulously.

With a shit-eating grin, Jin sends you a wink, not even bothering to go collect his clothes or hide his straining erection. “Lunchtime.”

“Will Mango be okay?” Taehyung asks worriedly.

Jimin tsks, but his tone is warm as he levels a stare at the younger man. “She’ll be fine, Tae, she’s a big girl. Besides; Hoseok looked like he’d fallen in love. I bet she’s getting treated like a queen right now.”

Taehyung glances down the stairs morosely as they turn the corner. “Good,” he muses, “she is.”

Jimin doesn’t notice Taehyung following him until he steps into his room, only to see the masseuse still behind him. “Do you need something?”

Still in pyjamas soaked from the water fight, Taehyung looks nonetheless beautiful. Jimin takes a moment to look over the tanned boy, his lithe frame exposed by the clinging fabric and his hair hanging long with the weight of the water. His lips are delicately sculpted like from marble, and he can’t help himself from starting at the slight pout as Taehyung asks softly, “does your room have a bath? Jungkook said you did.”

Jimin blinks. “How would Jungko- Oh.” The already-faded memory of Jungkook barging in on his morning routine sharpens back into colour. Of course. “Anyway, yes, I do. Why’s that?”

“Just wondering.” Taehyung shifts, a ring of dark grey on the carpet around him from the water that drips off his body.

Jimin dares a glance at the cameras in the corners of the hallway. If the two of them soak the carpet much more, Sejin will have their heads. Sighing he steps further into his room, opening the door wider. “Do you want to use it?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Taehyung brightens up, grin so broad it exposes his back teeth. “Yes, please, hyung!”

Jimin takes a deep breath to stop himself from mirroring the smile, simply shutting the door behind them both as Taehyung rushes into the bathroom, skidding on the floor with his wet feet. “Careful,” Jimin scolds quickly, “you’ll fall.” Avoiding Taehyung’s imploring gaze, he steps past him to put in the plug and begin running water, shivering at the feeling of his wet clothes cold against his skin. “Do you like it hot?”

“Always,” Taehyung answers without hesitation. Though Jimin can’t see his face, the low timbre of the masseuse’s voice gives him pause. “Can we have bubbles?”

Like that, the moment of tension is broken, and Jimin straightens up with a laugh, turning to him. “We?”

Taehyung pouts again, shaking the hair out of his eyes. “You aren’t gonna shower while I have a bath, are you, hyung? That’s a waste of water.”

Jimin feels his eyebrows rise, but the motion catches his attention in the mirror. He gasps at his reflection behind Taehyung; with the liner and mascara around his eyes smudged like a racoon and his foundation patchy, he looks like a mess. “Goodness,” he sighs, “why didn’t you tell me I look like this?”

Taehyung’s eyes are wide with uncertainty as Jimin rushes to the vanity, hastily fishing in the drawers for an oil cleanser to remove the dregs of pigment on his face. “You still look beautiful, hyung,” Taehyung offers softly.

“I look like a teenage girl that just got dumped.” Jimin scoffs a laugh as he viciously rubs at his skin, rinsing it off in the sink with a sigh. Straightening up again, he winces at the reflection that greets him. Red nose and chin, cheeks round without the illusion of contour, eyes looking too small in his face. Every flaw makes him bite down on his tongue harsher, until he whirls himself around, unable to look longer. With his jaw tense, Jimin tugs off the silver rings that adorn his fingers. “Fuck it, I’ll have a bath.”

Instead of cheering like Jimin expects him to, wants him to, Taehyung just eyes him with quiet concern. Over the loudly gushing faucet, his voice is barely audible as he repeats, “you still look beautiful.”

“Do you want vanilla or peaches and cream?” Jimin offers instead. “For bubbles, I mean.” Busying himself with picking out the bottles from the shower, he misses the frown on Taehyung’s face.

“Peaches, please, hyung,” the younger man requests warmly, shivering at the strange tension in the air. “Peach is my favourite scent, you know?”

“Is it?” The thought brings a smile to Jimin’s lips, as he discards the other bottle and begins drizzling body wash over the stream, bubbles frothing immediately. The bright yet sweet scent begins to fill the room, and Jimin’s smile widens. “It suits you.”

Once the tub is aptly full, and bubbles cover the surface, Jimin caps the bottle and peels the fabric of his shirt off himself with soapy hands, sighing as the weight is removed. He spares a glance to Taehyung, who still stands motionless in the middle of the room in a puddle of water. “You can get in now,” he provides, “I don’t bite.”

The blatant lie tugs a grin from Taehyung’s lips as he obediently begins undressing. “You forget I’ve seen your videos,” he quips wryly.

“Oh, I certainly haven’t forgotten, Taehyungie.” It takes more effort to strip himself from his blue jeans, totally waterlogged, but Jimin kicks off his shoes and does it one leg at a time. Naked, he seeks out the warmth of the water, sighing as he steps in and sinks below the bubbles, glancing over to Taehyung, who avoids his gaze as he slips off his boxers, the fabric slapping wetly on the white tiles.

It’s the first time Jimin’s seen Taehyung fully naked, and he can’t help his eyes from roaming. Smooth chest leading to a narrow waist and soft stomach, Taehyung’s cock standing at half-mast like he’s still unsure whether he should be aroused or not. Hastily, he steps into the bath, facing Jimin on the other side, and Jimin watches those delicate, slender fingers flex on the side of the tub as he settles in. Those fingers that played Y/n like she was an instrument. Those fingers that relaxed Jimin more than he’d felt in years, without even needing a release.

“I did what you suggested, hyung,” Taehyung says lightly, knees poking out of the water as he sticks as far to his end of the tub as possible. He pokes his chin forward, running a finger over his jaw and lower cheek. “I’m growing it out.”

Jimin smiles at the younger man warmly, the warmth of the water relaxing his muscles and softening him more than he’d normally be. Or perhaps it was the earnest, non-judgmental air Taehyung always held. Either way, he finds himself leaning forward slightly to brush his fingertips over the bottom of Taehyung’s face. The slightly sharp texture of exposed hairs and beginnings of a dark shadow evidence that he hadn’t shaved since Monday morning. “It’s growing in fast,” he comments, eyes darting to see the way Taehyung’s pulse thrums visibly on his neck.

Taehyung swallows, eyes locked on Jimin. “That’s why I usually shave everyday,” he explains lightly. Perhaps unconsciously, the masseuse’s legs part slowly, water rushing in to fill the void.

Shifting closer again, up on his knees, Jimin continues to inspect the 5 o’clock shadow on Taehyung’s face. “It looks nice,” he says softly; “handsome.”

Taehyung’s eyes blink widely. As Jimin’s tongue darts out quickly to wet his lips, he wonders if, had there been no bubbles, he’d be able to see Taehyung’s cock stiffening to a full erection below the water. The thought sends blood rushing down to his own dick, and Jimin sighs.

Sensing the silence has extended long enough, Taehyung swallows. “Do you think she’ll like it, hyung? What if it’s too rough?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Jimin points out, voice coming out breathier than expected, and his hand snakes around the back of Taehyung’s neck to drag him into a kiss.

The black-haired boy squeaks in surprise at the first contact, but quickly he’s melting, reaching up to grasp blindly at Jimin’s shoulders with a whimper. The reciprocation simultaneously relaxes Jimin and sends him into a frenzy, and he slides himself closer, between Taehyung’s parted legs to deepen the kiss.

If Jimin angles his head just right, his chin feels the slight prickle of Taehyung’s unshaven face, and he makes a noise of approval low in his throat, nipping at the lips that have swollen under his ministrations. Of course the idea wasn’t for kissing Y/n, but if Taehyung could kiss that good with his scruff, Jimin couldn’t imagine what a joyride Y/n was in for when she’d feel that between her thighs. Jimin grins into the kiss at the thought.

The air is thick with arousal and peaches, and the heady combination has Jimin needing more, tongue slipping out to lave over Taehyung’s lips. The younger man whimpers, and Jimin takes the opportunity of his open mouth to run his tongue along Tae’s, leaning further and further forward until their chests are pressed together.

With a needy gasp, Taehyung pulls away, turning his head just slightly to the side to suck in some air, eyes blown with lust. “Are- Jimin?” he stutters out incoherently, the sound of his panting rivalled only by the sloshing of the water that their movements have stirred up.

Jimin’s heart races; thrill on top of arousal on top of concern, his grin falling. “Do you not want to?”

Taehyung narrows his brows like he doesn’t comprehend, and glances around the room. “But there are no cameras?” he supplies, voice lilting at the end like a question.

“I know,” Jimin explains, feeling his own brain struggling to keep time, “I don’t want the cameras.”

“Then…” The lost look on Taehyung’s face breaks Jimin’s heart, and he resists the urge to press a kiss right between his brows, where a crease has formed.

Jimin wills his heart to slow, taking a deep breath. “I- I think for once, I want to have sex not because it’s my job, but because I want to get closer to someone. I know you watch my videos, but… Taehyung, would you want to have sex with me? Just… just me? Not Park Jimin?”

Taehyung tilts his head, a confused smile beginning to tug at his lips. “But you are Park Jimin-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jimin cuts him off, leaning back to get out of the tub. “It was stupid and I shouldn’t have-”

“Minnie.”

Jimin freezes, eyes finding Taehyung’s with a wide stare.

The younger boy’s gaze is soft behind black curls, imploring. “I like you, you know? It was never the videos or the persona. Just you. Whether we have sex or not, you should know that.”

The backs of Jimin’s eyes sting. He ignores it, instead settling back down into the now-lukewarm water. “I-” But it’s too much. He doesn’t know what to say, how to deal with the words he hasn’t heard for years and years. So instead, Jimin just cracks a shy smile, heart easing. “I do still kinda wanna have sex with you, though.”

Taehyung laughs, wide and squared, his eyes little crescent moons. “I want to have sex with you, too,” he assures. “Shall we continue?”

Jimin feels his lips stretch instinctively into a smile, before he’s leaning in and pressing them to Taehyung’s again.

Kissing Taehyung feels good; it’s more addictive and heady than he’s ever felt it in years, bar that night with Y/n. Letting his own want and desire take over instead of worrying about camera angles, lighting, viewers - is this why people like it so much?

Taehyung seems to enjoy it, too, gasping into Jimin’s mouth. The blue-haired man can feel the tickle of Taehyung’s lashes as his eyes flutter with every stroke of his tongue, and Jimin swallows a groan wondering what he’ll sound like later if he’s this responsive now.

Testing it out, he runs a hand up Taehyung’s side, seeking out a dusky brow nipple, wet with steam from the tub, and thumbs at it. Back arching suddenly, the masseuse moans into Jimin’s mouth, reaching both hands up to bury his fingers in Jimin’s hair to anchor him.

Jimin continues to circle and flick at it until Taehyung is positively squirming under his touch. Only then does he let his hand slide down again, this time delving beneath the warm embrace of the water, seeking out the hard length between Taehyung’s legs.

“Fuck,” Taehyung gasps out when he feels fingers wrapping around his cock, not stroking yet but with enough pressure to make him need more. “Want you inside me, Jimin.”

“Yeah?” Jimin confirms breathlessly with a grin. Fingers trailing lower, he easily locates the tight ring of muscle, making the younger man groan as he presses gently at the rim with a single fingertip. “Have you done this before?”

“Bottomed?” Taehyung questions. “Of course. I’m fine, hyung.”

Instead of responding, Jimin takes a moment to lift up one of Taehyung’s knees, unfolding it so that it rested over the edge of the tub. Wide-eyed, the masseuse lets Jimin give the same treatment to the other, until he’s spread open, ass no longer quite reaching the bottom as he floats in the water.

Though he can hear the spatter of water on the tile, dripping off Taehyung’s legs, Jimin ignores it and begins to work a finger past the boy’s rim, drinking in his groans as it sinks inside.

Water isn’t the best lubricant, so Jimin goes slowly, and it’s only once Taehyung grows restless with just one finger that Jimin starts to use two. It takes a moment, but as he crooks his fingers just right, Taehyung lets out a shaky cry, clenching down suddenly. “Just there?” Jimin questions with a wry smile.

Taehyung’s thighs tremble. “Right there, hyung, fuck.” The black-haired boy fusses so beautifully as Jimin continues to stretch him out, pads of his fingers focussing on that sensitive bud of tissue inside. “I-I’m ready, Minnie, I need you.”

Jimin’s heart hitches at the nickname again, and his cock throbs at the thought of finally being able to fuck him. “Are you sure?” he checks one last time, receiving a hasty nod.

The moment Jimin slowly bottoms out, hips flush against Taehyung’s ass, he knows he’s not going to last long. Luckily, Taehyung seems to share the sentiment, groaning obscenely and clutching at his own length, hissing at the contact.

“Fuck, Tae-tae, you feel so good,” Jimin sighs as he begins to set a languid but deep pace. It was natural for his tongue to run during sex; dirty talk was huge in his industry, and sometimes he felt like part of him ran on autopilot during his scenes. Slutty pussy this, dumb cock that; but this didn’t even feel like dirty talk to him. As he buried himself in Taehyung over and over, it felt closer to a confession.

“Ah, Minnie,” Taehyung whimpers, beginning to stroke himself in time, chest arching out of the water, “kiss me.”

His eyes are dark with lust but puppy-soft as he blinks up under his lashes at Jimin, and it’s impossible to resist. Not that he wants to, when Taehyung’s lips feel so perfect on his.

The younger boy whimpers delicately into Jimin’s mouth when they’re joined again, and Jimin feels his high creeping up on him. Embarrassingly fast, he’d think normally, but he doesn’t feel embarrassed now.

“I’m close,” he whispers quickly to Taehyung, picking up the pace so that the water sloshes loudly around them, bubbles dissolving.

Taehyung groans, wraps his free arm around Jimin’s shoulders to hold himself closer, and speeds up his hand. “Me too,” he confesses, “cum inside, Minnie.”

With a low curse, Jimin is spilling inside Taehyung, hips stuttering their pace. Taehyung chases his lips through his own orgasm, gasping so much that he can barely reciprocate. It feels dirty and exquisite; the way their lips and tongue join so messily together, shuddering in unison as pleasure wracks their bodies.

Once Jimin finally comes down from his high, he’s panting. Hair damp from the steam and face hot, for once he doesn’t worry about if his o-face was attractive or his voice gravelly enough. He feels beautiful.

---

Taehyung’s nowhere to be found by the time you and the other boys finish lunch, and so there’s nobody to protest when Jin suggests the two of you can look after Mango.

Although not trained, Mango is nonetheless polite, and it’s far past sunset by the time Jin and you finish up your photoshoots and online shopping, Jin happily spending a fortune on a dog bed, pedigree food and enough toys for a whole kennel. He insists it’s because Sejin would have his ass if he asked the producer to spend more of the show’s funds, but that doesn’t stop the therapist spamming Sejin’s personal cell with pictures and messages, determined to make a point.

The two of you are exhausted from a day well spent as you snuggle lazily in Jin’s bed, a laptop propped up on your lap as you yawn away to a documentary on squirrels.

“We can go to sleep if you want,” Jin reminds you as a deep baritoned narrator explains the child-rearing techniques of female squirrels. “It’s past midnight.”

“You’re past midnight,” you retort sleepily, before your brain catches up with you. “Ah. No. Maybe you’re right.”

With a teasing smile and kind eyes, Jin takes the laptop away, plugging it in on his desk before returning back. “I’m glad, you know,” he muses as he slips under the covers again, your arms and legs immediately latching onto his frame.

Once he settles, you place your head on his chest, the internal beating of his heart a soothing metronome. “Glad about what?”

“Glad that this week’s challenge was you sleeping in different beds. I never got to sleep beside you that first night.”

“You could’ve,” you point out.

“It was only the first night,” he allows, voice rumbling in his chest, “I didn’t want to cross any lines and you fell asleep before I could get an answer.”

You hum, snuggling closer even as your whole body is pressed against him. He’s just so warm, and he feels so safe when he wraps his arm under and around you, holding you there. “I was gonna seduce you,” you whine with a yawn. “Tonight, I mean. You didn’t fuck me before so I was gonna seduce you. But you smell so good. I just wanna sleep.”

Jin seems to share the sentiment, muffling the yawn he caught from you. “You can seduce me in the morning.”

“Promise?”

Jin laughs, wincing when it jostles you violently on his chest. “Fuck, sorry. But yes, I promise. Now go to sleep. I’ll be here.”

Your hand unconsciously finds the collar of his pyjama shirt, clutching at it. You feel the warmth of his hand wrapping around it, flipping it over to lace his fingers through yours. You think you could stay here forever, but perhaps tonight is a good place to start. “Goo’night,” you mumble.

Jin’s voice is barely audible, naught a whisper, but you feel it in his chest. “Night, sweetheart.”

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wafflesandkruge · 4 years ago

Text

when you love someone

The Grand Palace was quiet at this hour with nearly everyone asleep, save for the two royals themselves. Although he’d gone to bed at his usual time, sleep had eluded him and he’d tossed and turned until he simply gave up. He’d slipped into the kitchens the same way he had when he was a boy, but instead of desserts, he found himself looking for something a bit stronger. But to his surprise, he’d found his soon-to-be wife already there, her personality more bracing than any liquor he’d ever tasted.

for @trackermal: “ehri and nik and ‘how come she loves you?’”

Ehri looked at Nikolai over her glass of brandy with obvious distaste. He couldn’t help but think she had spent a little too much time with Zoya- they had the same unimpressed expression seemingly reserved just for him, like he was a cheap street magician who kept bumbling his tricks. Which was rude, because he was perfectly capable of juggling.

“Should a wife really be looking at her husband like that?” He attempted to reach for his glass, then remembered Ehri had stolen it. She’d developed a taste for his favorite drink in her few weeks in Os Alta. With a sigh, he fetched another glass from the cabinet and poured another one for himself.

Ehri scowled. “Like what?”

“Like I just killed your childhood pet in front of you.”

“My sister did that once,” she mused.

“Makhi?”

“Correct.”

“Hmm. Elder siblings really are the worst, aren’t they?”

“I’ll drink to that,” she muttered as she clinked her glass to his. A bit of amber liquid sloshed over the side and onto the table, but she didn’t seem to notice as she brought the glass to her lips again. Nikolai wondered just how much she’d had before he’d walked in. When he’d entered the room, he’d found her sitting at a table under a window, the moonlight bathing her in a silver glow as she’d sipped at rice wine and stared out at the city with a melancholic expression. In her pale dress, she might as well have been a statue carved by a skillful hand.

He often wondered if he’d ever be able to love her the way a husband loved a wife. Attempted murder aside, he found he was quite fond of her; her sharp wit and sharper tongue were always worthwhile sparring partners and she was undeniably pretty in the unassuming manner of a spring blossom. But the fondness he had for Ehri never grew into anything more than the affection he'd feel for a close friend, not in the way it did with...her.

He cleared his throat loudly, suddenly not wanting to dwell on those thoughts. Ehri cut him a baleful glance.

“Yes, dearest husband?”

“I was wondering, sweetest wife, the reason for your late night visit. I’m assuming you weren’t here for the excellent view?”

Ehri scoffed and reached for the bottle again. “The view here is nothing in comparison to Ahmrat Jen. I am marrying into a backwater village.”

Nikolai clutched at his chest in mock hurt. “You wound me.”

“And I’ll do it again.”

He let her threat of regicide slide and sipped at his glass. As he’d hoped, she sighed and began to speak to fill the silence.

“I talked to Mayu today.”

Nikolai raised an eyebrow. The Tavgharad girl had been confined to a separate wing of the palace ever since she’d recovered from her self-inflicted wound. To his knowledge, there had been no attempt at contact from either of them. His puzzled thoughts must have shown on his face, because Ehri snorted and shook her head.

“It was that Shu guard of yours. Tolya. He snuck me into the east wing for half an hour.”

A bolt of panic went through him. Tolya? If his most trusted guard was helping plot against him, why would she reveal that? His grip on his glass tightened until his knuckles were white. But before his thoughts could spiral further, she rolled her eyes.

“Don’t look like that, you’ll get wrinkles. And what would you be without your good looks? He was within earshot the entire time to make sure we weren’t plotting anything. Ask him yourself.”

“But...” he started, his mind still struggling to grasp the magnitude of his friend’s betrayal. “Why would he help you?”

“Because he’s an incurable romantic,” she replied, her gaze shifting away from his face. Her hands shook as she raised her glass again and downed it in one go. He waited for her to say more, to finish her thought, but her lips were pressed into a thin line as she looked at anything but him.

It hit him a moment later.

“Oh.” He suddenly felt like the world’s biggest fool.

“Took you long enough. And I thought they said you were clever.” Her words were sharp, but there was visible relief on her face as she finally set her glass aside. He supposed he ought to have been touched she trusted him enough to let him in on so big of a secret. Though he supposed he didn’t have much to gain from it, not when he was the one who needed the wedding to happen.

“So how long...” his voice trailed off.

“Since we were seventeen. She’d just been assigned to my guard, and she was the only girl my age in the palace who wasn’t scared to talk to me.” She traced the grain of the wooden table with a finger, seemingly lost in her memories. “She kissed me first, actually. Stupid on her part, when she knew I could have had her executed for even touching me. But it all worked out. Until it fell apart again, I suppose.”

“What happened?”

“She said she wouldn’t be staying. That she’d go back to Shu Han the first chance she got because she couldn’t see me wed to another.” Ehri gave a brittle laugh. “Her jealousy is stronger than her oath of loyalty, I suppose.”

Nikolai averted his gaze. He had the distinct feeling Ehri wouldn’t appreciate it if he saw her cry. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault. Well, actually,” she conceded, sniffling a little, “it is. But it’s not your fault we were born as two people who couldn’t be together in this life.”

He suddenly found his glass terribly interesting. He wasn’t sure if she’d meant to hint at his own personal dilemmas, but their conversation was getting uncomfortably close to turning on him. And of course, she decided to pounce on that.

“You and the general.” It wasn’t a question, or even speculation, but a statement. Nikolai tried not to wince.

“What about General Nazyalensky and I?”

“You care for each other.” Her golden eyes were bright with unshed tears, but they were still narrowed in triumph. Saints, did everything have to be a fight with her? Nikolai ran a hand through his hair and tried to keep his knee from bouncing.

“Of course we care for each other,” he said with a forced laugh, “As I’m sure you know, four years ago-”

“That’s not what I mean,” she interrupted. She leaned in closer until he could smell her floral perfume. He tried not to lean back. That would have been a loss for him. “The two of you are like Mayu and I. Zhiji. When they know you better than you know yourself.”

He thought about denying it, as he’d always done. But perhaps it was the drink, or the lack of sleep, or the company, that he gave a tired nod. It wasn’t his best decision, but it felt fair. Surprisingly, Ehri didn’t gloat. Instead, she looked even gloomier if possible. She slumped back into her chair.

“Why hasn’t she left, then? Will she still be seeing you behind closed doors even after we are wed? How can she still love you?”

How indeed. Nikolai reached for the bottle again, only to find it empty. They were both going to regret this the next morning. He sighed and folded his hands together so they would stop trembling.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve her. If she tells me she wants to leave tomorrow, I wouldn’t stop her.”

Ehri’s brows furrowed. “You wouldn’t fight to keep her here?”

“No. Sometimes, love is about letting go.” And that was what all love was in the end, wasn’t it? The loss of it. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Saints, he needed another drink. He pushed himself up from the table and started digging through the cabinets again.

She was silent as she turned that over in her head. Nikolai found a half-full bottle of kvas, probably hidden away by a kitchen boy to show off to his friends later. Not his favorite, but it’d have to do. He’d replace it with a nicer bottle the next day. He brought it back to the table and filled both their glasses.

“I don’t think I like that very much,” Ehri said, staring into her drink as if she could scry secrets from its surface. “Love should be something you fight to keep, no matter what.”

He offered her a tired smile. “Then you’re the braver one of us, Princess. Personally, I’m a bit tired of fighting at the moment.”

“You give shitty advice,” she accused.

“I’m drunk.”

“It’s an improvement.”

He decided to let her have the last word. They sat in silence as the moon climbed higher in the sky, the last bottle quickly polished off between them. There was a certain comfort in the quiet, an understanding that he only found with Ehri. It was rather nice. But if he ever told her that, she’d probably laugh in his face. Saints, he wished he’d meet a decent royal at least once in his life.

Ehri was the first to push away from the table first some hours later, the legs of her chair scraping against the stone floor with an ear splitting screech. Nikolai winced.

“Have a good night, o’ honorable husband,” she said as she brushed some dust off her sleeve. Her entire body swayed with the motion. “Don’t get assassinated. I don’t think I could manage to look mournful at your funeral.”

“Sweet dreams, darling wife,” he said with some amusement as he watched her stumble out of the kitchen. If he’d been feeling kinder, he might have offered to walk her to her room. But when he already knew what the answer was going to be, he didn’t have the strength to waste his breath.

#if anyone tags this as nik/ehri i will knife you #kos #king of scars #kos writing #nikolai #ehri #zoya #mayu #tolya #zoyalai #mayri #grishaverse #leigh bardugo #my writing

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rmechmachines · 8 months ago

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Pet Bottle Bale Opener Machine Exporter in Kuwait

R Mech Machines LLP is a Manufacturer, Supplier, and Pet Bottle Bale Opener Machine Exporter in Kuwait. R Mech Machines LLP Specializing in Plastic Scrap Turbo Washing Machines, Plastic Scrap Grinder Machines, Plastic Scrap Shredder Machines, Blade Sharpening Machines, Screw Press Squeezer Machines, Friction Washer Machines, and more, Users utilize waste bale openers to break packaged PET bottles or paper cartons weighing between 200-1000kg per package. This process facilitates recycling by converting them into scattered PET bottles or paper. Constructed from thickened carbon steel, the waste bale opener boasts durability and a long usage life. we offer one year of free maintenance and the option to dispatch engineers for assistance, making it user-friendly. The bale breaker machine, used to dismantle bales, is essential for saving space. Users often require bale breakers to separate compressed plastics into bales for washing or other processing. Designed for breaking packaged PET bottles weighing 200-300kg per package, the bale breaker machine efficiently transforms them into scattered PET bottles, promoting recycling. Like the waste bale opener, manufacturers construct the bale breaker machine from durable thickened carbon steel. We offer one year of complimentary maintenance and the possibility of on-site engineer assistance for ease of operation. Features: Effective braking and loosening of bales consistent and steady discharge The throughput can be changed indefinitely. Big bale hopper with extended feeding times Operational design featuring a drive and electrical control mechanism R Mech Machines LLP is a Manufacturer, Supplier, and Pet Bottle Bale Opener Machine Exporter in Kuwait and various locations like Kuwait City, Ahmadi, AI Jahra, Mahboula, Hawally, Sabah AI Salem, Jabriya. For more information, please feel free to contact us. Read the full article

#PetBottleBaleOpenerMachineExporterinKuwait

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lambourngb · 4 years ago

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This Hard Journey

Fic prompt: “There’s something you should know…” Michael Guerin Day 2. This picks up after yesterday’s “This Hard Life” - a part of interconnected ficlets of an AU after the shed, where Alex doesn’t join the Air Force. Mentions of Malex and an Alex/Other here. Finished on ao3 here.

***

He finally got a dog, was all that Michael could think as he sat outside of the house that matched the address Max pulled from the DMV. They had always wanted to get a dog together, but with pet deposits and the tight budget for rent and food, that had always been a non-starter for them. Not anymore.

The quiet shaded street just off of the Buchanan Arts District was lined with old-style Craftsman homes among the peppered in new, renovated sprawling McMansions born of the house flipping obsession during the real estate boom. New construction sprouting between old, mature trees, juxtaposing progress with tradition.

Alex had chosen one of the older homes, untouched by the remodeling fad with a large fenced in yard filling the property footprint, and a dog house that mimicked the main house in style. Two solid years of song-writing had rewarded Alex with financial security, and of course, after three years living in cramped efficiency apartments and noisy neighbors with Michael, the first thing Alex would want again was a house. The roots of his upper middle class childhood were never far away.

Pressing his forehead against the steering wheel, Michael worked to gather the courage that kept him propelled down the over 1,100 miles from Roswell to Nashville. He had made it here, the least he could do was knock on the door instead of freaking out over the fact that Alex had a house with a mortgage while all Michael could muster in the two years since was buying a bank-possessed Airstream.

At least it was better than sleeping rough in his truck again, something he had done when he fell behind on the rent after Alex had left.

Michael took a deep steadying breath and pushed himself out of his truck. The spans of sidewalk suddenly seemed longer than I-40 through Oklahoma. Another deep breath, the irony of borrowing Alex’s self-soothing habit not lost on Michael at all, he tucked his left hand into a pocket to hide the old damage and knocked firmly on the front door.

There was a long silence extended, shoving anticipation into chagrin as Michael turned his head to peek at the tiny side-carport, confirming there was a car there. A loud, chorus of deep barks picked up from within the house. The dog sounded big, but none of that registered as he picked up Alex’s voice, muffled and indistinct.

“-calm down, buddy. Stay- no, stay- It’s probably Daddy’s new speakers arriving-”

After two and half days of driving, Michael had perfected his speech to Alex. It hit every open wound between them, from the fact he was sorry he hadn’t gone with him, to the weak but true explanation that he wasn’t ready then, but he was now. Then finally the big dice throw, the gamble of everything, that every city needed a good mechanic, Nashville was no different, it was no pressure- but maybe? Maybe they could start over?

The door swung open, and like a bag of spilled marbles, all of Michael’s words scattered away from him.

“Michael?” Alex’s polite smile for an expected delivery dropped into disbelieving shock. He did a comical double take, looking back into the house, then to Michael, then over Michael’s shoulder. The classic Chevy truck parked on the street chased away the shock. “Jesus Christ, it really is you.”

“Alex.” Michael swallowed, his eloquence gone. “You look good.”

They had had three years together, and during that time Michael had seen so many different versions of Alex Manes. He had seen Alex tired, dark circles shading his eyes more consistently than eyeliner with an off-kilter alien antennae from the Crashdown. He had seen Alex resolute, using his shoulders to impart a warning in his black clad Wild Pony shirt to any drunk who dared to give him a hard time. He had seen Alex awkward, as he helped Michael with his chores at the Foster’s ranch when it came to cleaning out a cow pen or pulling the twine efficiently off baled hay. He had seen Alex ashamed, as Michael patiently explained during their first grocery store visit that the EBT card only covered certain items.

This Alex was new. Clean, well-rested, skin clear and not tight on his cheekbones from lean meals or bloated from cheap food. An earring shined from his ear, he was dressed in a soft v-neck shirt and artfully cut frayed jeans. Good was an understatement.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here- I’m here because Isobel got married, and um, she wanted to invite you, but I talked her out of it. I’m sorry. I mean for that, but also for like, everything. Not following you here was something I regretted every day since, but I thought- I thought I had to stay back then, but I don’t anymore- and there’s something you should know-”

“Babe? Is that our new speakers at the door?” A new voice called out, cutting off the word vomit that was spilling from Michael’s mouth beyond his control.

A male voice.

The wince and apology on Alex’s face told Michael everything he needed to know. Well. He probably should have seen that coming. Only Alex’s reaching out quickly to grab his hand as he turned away stopped him from bolting from the house.

“No, not our speakers, but an old friend from back home is here-” Alex called back, before turning back to make deliberate eye contact with Michael. “He wanted to stop by to say hello.”

A tall well-built black man came into view, holding a squirming pit bull in his arms, walked toward them both with a bright welcoming smile, “A friend from Roswell? An actual flesh and blood human who knows you? I was starting to think you were an alien, Alex.”

“Just because you’re related to half of Nashville and went to school with the other half, Dennis, doesn’t mean I sprouted from a pod-” Alex shot back playfully, clearly picking up a well-worn argument.

Like a couple. A real couple. With a house and a dog. Michael licked his dry lips, forcing his muscles upward, they probably had retirement accounts. In two years Alex had built something more secure than he had in the three years in Roswell.

“Well any friend of yours, Alex, is one of mine,” Dennis greeted, turning his head to avoid an excited dog kiss before transferring the bundle of fur into Alex’s arms in a fluid movement of trust. “I’m Dennis, welcome to Nashville, um-?” he prompted, extending his left hand to Michael.

“Michael Guerin,” he answered politely, before Michael lifted his left hand awkwardly from his pocket and offered his right in return. His name didn’t alter the warm smile on Dennis’s face. Ah. So he must be a nameless ex for Alex then. Swallowing hard, Michael continued, this time a little meanly, “this hand doesn’t shake so well after I got on the wrong side of a hammer, sorry. But good to meet you.”

The stutter of the clumsy interaction hid Alex’s wince and flash of pain of the reminder.

Feeling no joy from that, Michael picked up the conversation lightly, “I’m a friend from high school. Been doing some transport work, and a job sent me here to pick up a car to drive back to Roswell, so I thought I might stop in and see what the famous Alex Manes is up to…”

“I’m not famous, I just write the words,” Alex protested quietly, before backing away from the doorway. “We were just about to have lunch, if you want to stay-”

“He’s famous, don’t listen to him,” Dennis interjected proudly. “Did you hear that new song from Paramore? Alex wrote that.”

“Oh I know, I have all the singles Alex wrote,” Michael smiled, looking around the house and at the couple with another deep breath. “I’m his biggest fan, I think. But um, thank you, I can’t stay, I gotta hit the road back to-” he started to say home, but that hadn’t been true for a long time. “Back to Roswell.”

***

Hours later with his heart heavy, Michael checked into his room at the Super 8. Normally the expense would have bothered him, but after his day, he figured he was entitled to a little bit of spoiling. And if it was sad that plain wrapped soaps and tiny shampoo bottles constituted spoiling, well, he was content with that.

The clunky black case of his small portable DVD player was propped open on the hotel bed. It was a hand-me-down as technology and electronic gadgets moved into smoother, more versatile means. For him, it was perfect to watch a borrowed DVD in his Airstream since he lacked cable.

With the entire contents of a motel conditioner in his hair, Michael started the paused video file. The shaky dark footage started playing, the sound crackling with amateur hands, before the clear, strong voice of Alex Manes filled the air.

It was probably pathetic to watch this cribbed footage from YouTube, but the romanticism that fueled his journey down 1-40 was also the same sentiment that preserved this moment in amber for Michael. Pulling open his old notebook from high school, he let Alex’s voice singing about love and loss carry him through the calculations of point atmospheric entry and the parallax distance of habitable stars.

It would be a hard journey, but Michael didn’t know any other kind at this point. Roswell wasn’t his home. Nashville wasn’t going to be home either, but the universe was ever-expanding, surely there was a place for Michael?

#mgweek20 #guerinweek20 #malex fic #the lost decade #au after the shed #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #Malex #angst here but eventual happy ending #will it show up in the tags?#no one knows certainly not me

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peppersonironi · 4 years ago

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Batfam/Avengers Crossover Chapter Three: Morning Routines

Tagging: @the-fair-maiden-of-fandom

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Category: Gen

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types

Relationships: Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne, Natasha Romanov & Damian Wayne, Clint Barton & Cassandra Cain, Tim Drake & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tim Drake & Duke Thomas, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Dick Grayson/Wally West, Roy Harper/Koriand'r/Jason Todd,

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Selina Kyle, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Barbara Gordon, Justice League (DCU), Alfred Pennyworth, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Clint Barton, Thor (Marvel), Bruce Banner, Peter Parker, Alfred the Cat (DCU), Bat-Cow (DCU), Goliath (DCU), Selina Kyle’s Cat Isis, Kate Kane (DCU), Duke Thomas,

Additional Tags: Batbrothers (DCU), Avengers Meet The Batfam, MCU/Batfam crossover, Crossover, no beta we die like robins, rated T for Jason’s language, I bleeped it out though. Just to be safe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, canon? What’s canon?, Deaf Clint Barton,Deaf Character, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Happy Batfamily (DCU), Birdflash and joyfire are implied/referenced,

Summary: Now that the Avengers have begun to settle into the Manor, they get to know the inhabitants.

Notes: Yo, I do take requests for scenarios, pov’s, and characters to show up!

Steve awoke in one of the most comfortable beds he had ever slept in. For a moment he was relaxed as the sun streamed in through the large window. Then he sat straight up. How did he get here?

Then he remembered. After the Justice League had left, Batman - he still felt weird calling him Bruce - led them into an elevator which emerged in a richly adorned sitting room. The entrance to the elevator being in the Grandfather clock which lay to the side of the room. A butler - a butler! Even Tony didn’t have one of those - had met them there. Batman had informed him that they would be staying for a while, and the butler had quickly led them to free rooms, assuring the Avengers that clothes would be provided before dinner. He had spoken the truth, as a change of clothes were provided shortly. Steve suspected they were pilfered from the manor’s residents.

Steve got out of bed and went over to the neatly stacked pile of clothes, and got dressed. He had been given cargo pants and a gray t-shirt. He then left his room and began to follow the smell of breakfast - a heavenly mixture of coffee, maple syrup, bacon, and blueberry pancakes.

Nat, Tony, and Clint were already in the kitchen when he arrived. They were sitting on stools at the island along with Tim Drake and Cassandra Cain. The Butler was placing a heaping pile of pancakes on the table whilst handing Tim a pot of coffee.

Steve walked over and sat down. "Good morning," he said. "They look great sir, thank you."

The Butler smiled. "Call me Alfred, everyone else does." He spoke with a crisp british accent, which Steve hadn’t noticed the evening before.

Steve nodded as he took some pancakes and bacon. Everyone else started chowing down as well, with the exception of Tim. Tim looked horrible, if Steve was being honest. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his lids were drooped.

Tim was about to pour some coffee, when Steve noticed he was clearly going to miss the mug. Steve opened his mouth to say something when Cassandra Cain reached over and casually pushed the mug over.

Tim filled up the mug. He either hadn’t noticed, or hadn’t cared.

Cassandra went back to her seat. "You sleep?"

Tim shrugged. "No more than usual. I had patrol, then worked on that eastside murder case."

Cassandra frowned. “ Sleep ,” she said vehemently.

"What's patrol?" Clint asked curiously.

Tim frowned. “We go out and patrol Gotham. Take care of crime. Typical vigilante stuff.”

This gave Steve pause. “You handle petty crime?”

Tim blinked. “You don’t? I thought you said you were superheroes?"

Natasha nodded. “So you’re like Peter. He protects Manhattan. The rest of us only got together due to an alien invasion. We’re what you would call the . . . heavy hitters.”

Cassandra nodded. “City needs us. Without . . .” She pursed her lips and moved her hands around. “Bad things happen.”

“Once you have finished, might I suggest you explore the manor or cave?” Alfred said as he placed more bacon on the table. “Master Bruce has a full gym and training areas in the Batcave which you are welcome to use. After all, if you are to stay here, you might as well have something to do.”

Steve stood up from his now finished meal. “Thank you Alfred, I believe I will. I think I remember the way to the cave. Thank you for the meal.”

Tony nodded. “See you down there, I guess.” Clint and Natasha agreed.

*****

Steve entered the cave to find that he was not the first one there. Standing on the main platform was an honest-to-god cow.

It was brown and white, with stubby horns and a baleful look. On its forehead was a brown patch that looked suspiciously like a bat. The cow mood.

“Bat-Cow! Get away from the invader!” Damian Wayne swooped in out of nowhere and landed in front of the now named Bat-Cow. “What are you doing in the cave?” He asked, his sword drawn and pointed at Steve’s chest.

“The butler - Alfred - said I could come down here to workout,” Steve replied. He was still trying to get over the fact that a cow was in front of him, being guarded by an eleven year-old in black training clothes that looked a lot like a ninja’s.

“T-t,” Damian replied, clearly unimpressed.

“Well, um. . . Is that a cow?” Steve couldn’t help himself.

“Yes of course. Are you blind? This is Bat-Cow. Bat-Cow, this is one of the invaders by the name of Steve Rogers. Stay away, he’s probably not even a vegetarian.” With that, the boy and the cow strolled away, and Steve turned to go.

*****

Steve found the gym platform and set to work. It was quite nice equipment, and Steve enjoyed using it. He wasn’t the only one, as both Jason Todd and Stephanie Brown were there with him in gym clothes. They both wore gray sweatpants, but Stephanie also wore a purple sports bra, almost the same color as her suit. Stephanie was using some resistance bands and Jason was bench pressing.

Steve walked in muttering about cows, which gained a smile from Jason, who inevitably heard him.

“If a cow surprises you,” Jason said between lifts, “then wait till you see Goliath.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Steve asked as he settled into a warm-up.

“One of Damian’s other . . . pets.” Stephanie said, a grimace on her face. “But boy, I can’t wait till I see your face!” She laughed as she finished up, and moved onto chin-ups.

Steve frowned, but let it slide. There was silence after a while as he settled into his routine. Eventually he moved over to bench presses. He began to set up the weights, glad there were so many, as he usually needed a lot more than the average man.

Steve looked over at Jason, who was still pressing. On closer inspection he was benching almost 400 pounds.

“Do you have super strength,” Steve asked before he could help himself.

Jason snorted and finished up his last few reps, setting the bar down then sitting up. He wiped his face as he answered Steve. “Nope, I don’t need superstength to get these babies.”

He lifted up his arms and flexed. This sent Stephanie into a giggle fit. “You,” She said between snorts, “Jason Peter Todd, are utterly ridiculous.”

Jason smiled as well before turning back to Steve. “But really, none of us bats have super strength. All we have is skill, and kicka** personalities.”

Steve frowned, but nodded anyway. He went to begin bench pressing when Stephanie asked him, “That Stark guy said you were a supersoldier, I assume that super strength comes with it?”

“Yup. There was an experimental serum that the scientists of World War II chose me to test. I worked in the army for a while, before I got frozen in ice due to taking down a Nazi ship. I got rescued and joined the Avengers to help stop an alien invasion.”

Jason muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “cheater.”

Stephanie glared at him. Before standing up and speaking cheerfully “Well, I’m going to go spar with whoever’s available. See you later?” Stephanie walked off, grabbing a purple water bottle on the way out.

Jason nodded. He moved on in his workout, and Steve went back to his bench presses. After a while, Jason had left to spar. Steve finished up himself, then decided to follow. He remembered seeing a fighting area on his way down, so he left the gym and started his search.

*****

Steve didn’t have to search for long, as the platform in question was easily the most crowded. It was the largest, with some thin mats on the floor. Steve wasn’t sure that they would provide much protection.

Thor was standing near the center, holding Mjolnir, and looking quite uncomfortable. He was seemingly being questioned by Damian, Jason, and Cassandra. Tim, Duke, Peter, Nat, Bruce (Banner), Tony, Bruce (Wayne) and Clint stood to the side. Their faces were a mixture of worry (Nat, Bruce Banner, Tony, and Clint), Amusement, (Tim, Dick and Duke), and confusion (Peter and Bruce Wayne).

Steve walked up to Nat. “What’s going on?” He asked.

“They're questioning the technicalities of being worthy of the hammer,” She said with a frown. “Specifically how many and how often you murder to be excluded.”

Steve frowned right along with her as he turned to the conversation.

“But is there a time frame?” Jason was asking. “Like say you don’t kill for like two weeks, and you’ve been super good? Would that get you points?”

“Uh. . .” The look on Thor’s face was priceless.

“T-t,” Damian said. “What about the technicalities behind the actual murder? Perhaps if a seven year old went on a killing spree? Would age exempt him?”

“I’m not sure a child would-”

“Not their fault?” Cassandra asked. “Forced? Didn’t know?”

Jason frowned. “Yeah, would the kid be declared unworthy if they were forced to kill? Or they didn’t know what they were doing?”

“Well, I-”

“What about mind control? Manipulation? Amnesia?” Jason asked.

“I’m sorry, but -”

“Do the more you kill, the more unworthy you become?” Damian asked, “Or until you hit a certain body count, it's a free-for-all?”

Thor sputtered. “Free-for-all?!”

“Or what if they were really bad people?” Jason asked. “Like other murderers? Pedophiles? Rapists? Drug dealers who sell to kids? If they did something wrong, would that cancel out your own wrongness?”

“These kids are hard-core,” Clint muttered.

“They raise a good point though,” Duke replied.

Tim nodded. “Ten Bucks its Damian who throws dear Thor off the edge.”

“Cass is feisty though.” Dick replied

Duke snorted. “Hah, never bet against Jason!”

All three exchanged handshakes.

“Okay,” Jason said, waving his arms about as he spoke with the utmost seriousness. “Does the way you kill affect how bad it is? Like would slowly and painfully bleeding to death be worse than a bullet to the head? Or say a sniper rifle compared to a handgun? Since one is more personal?”

Thor gaped at the young man.

“ Why kill.” Cassandra asked. “Told? Want? Accident?”

“What if it was to save yourself?” Damian asked. “If it was self-preservation, would that account for anything?”

“What if you were saving someone else?” Jason added. “Either directly, or just making the world a safer place?”

Thor frowned. “I do not speak for Mjolnir, but I assume all murder is murder.” The kids looked disappointed, so Thor continued. “However, if you wish to try to lift it, You have my permission to do so.”

“Naw, it's okay,” Jason said as the kids walked off looking dejected. “Doubt we could anyways, as Thor here just clarified.”

This caused the most uproar out of everything else in the conversation. Thor looked stricken, along with Peter, Bruce Banner, and Tony. Natasha and Clint looked at each other worriedly, Bruce Wayne, Tim, and Duke just rolled their eyes. And Steve was just confused.

“You kill?” Steve asked, as he started to worry if this universe was much more different than he had originally thought.

“Cassandra, Damian, and Jason had … unusual circumstances.” Bruce Wayne said simply. There was a silence after that. Then Bruce continued. “Well, we were about to start some sparring. If you’d like to join us, you are more than welcome to.”

Steve stood straight. He’d been looking forward to seeing them fight. “Sure,” he said as Tim, Dick and Duke exchanged ten dollar bils. “Sounds fun.”

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thisbrokenmask · 4 years ago

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Trick or Treat

pairing: female reader x kim seokjin

genre: romance, humour

word count: 3,233

rating: PG-13 i guess?

warnings: the beginnings of heavy petting, seokjin is dressed like clark kent

summary: you’re not a fan of Halloween, normally leaving your building’s trick or treaters in the capable hands of your trusty plastic skeleton, Frank, while you enjoy a hot bath, a film and a bottle of wine. this year, however, Jin unexpectedly shows up at your door and you find he’s not an unwelcome addition to your plans for the evening.

a/n: I don’t really know where this came from, but Happy Halloween!

written for my ‘Trick or Treat’ prompt for @btsholidaybingo

Stepping into the elevator of your apartment building, you’re careful to avoid the fake webbing spread over the paneling as you press the button for the third floor. With your left hand, you absentmindedly tap out the rhythm of a song that’s been stuck in your head all day around the handles of a small grocery bag, a few treats picked up on the way home to reward yourself for once again resisting losing your temper at your annoying colleague this week. As you wait for the elevator to rise, you take your phone out of your pocket to browse through some social media, seeing if any of your friends have posted pictures of their costumes yet. While you’re disappointed not to see Jungkook’s face covered in fake blood or Namjoon and his girlfriend posing in matching horror novel-themed costumes just yet, you do find yourself being drawn to a few celebrity’s images who have already posted their outfits.

With a sigh you’re locking your phone again and swapping it for your keys, desperate for the moment you can shut your door behind you and lock it for the evening. Despite yourself, though, you can’t help the small smile that pushes at your lips as you take in the drawings that have been put up by some of the kids in the building; grimacing pumpkins and wailing ghosts wishing the other residents a ‘Happy Halloween’.

You’re quietly relieved that the hallway on your floor is currently empty. You figure the building’s kids have started on the bottom floor and are making their way up, especially when you can hear the distant delighted screams and giggles echoing up the stairwell, so you’ve made it in time to avoid the begging eyes of children promised free sweets for their dressing up efforts.

The sight of your door, the only one completely bare of any fake spiders or red-paint handprints, brings a wave of relief over you, tension slipping from your shoulders already at just the thought of running a hot bath to soak away the stress of the work week. Friday has come at just the right time once again; even if tonight is Halloween, you’re still intent on carrying out your plans of bath, wine, movie and sleep.

It’s not that you hate Halloween. It’s just… you are strongly indifferent to Halloween. It was never a holiday that you took part in growing up, even with your older sister dressing up and going to parties every year throughout her teenage years and your parents always happily opening up the door for the neighbourhood kids out trick or treating. Other than not liking scary films, there isn’t really anything you hold against the annual appearance of carved pumpkins and the ridiculous unbranded costumes. You’re just not bothered.

You place your shopping on the kitchen counter once you make your way into your home, flicking a few lights on as you go. The bottle of wine goes in the fridge, along with a bar of your favourite chocolate that you only indulge in every once in a while. You sit the unopened bag of crisps in a bowl, ready to open them when you settle in for your movie later, and then move on to the final step in your evening plans before locking up.

The one Halloween-themed decoration you have is a standing skeleton, no taller than waist height, his hands outstretched in front of him. The same year you bought your bony guardian, who you have affectionately named Frank for no reason in particular, you also picked up a bright orange plastic bowl decorated on one side with a jack-o-lantern’s jagged grin, and it’s this bowl that you fill with a few bags of wrapped sweets and place in Frank’s upturned hands after slipping a small sign over his arms to hang below the bowl.

Frank and his sugary cargo is carried lovingly out into the corridor and placed beside your door, and you make sure the sign is sitting far enough forward that it’s still visible:

“Please don’t knock or ask for tricks or treats - instead you can help yourself to Frank’s bowl of sweets!”

Satisfied with your little set up, you finally allow yourself to lock your door and head towards your bathroom. You’ve used this set up for the last few years that you’ve lived in your building and, other than a little bit of confusion in the first year, it’s worked like a charm. The few parents who spoke to you in the days following Halloween were appreciative of the fact that you still put something out for their overexcited kids and quietly confessed that they didn’t blame you for not wanting to keep opening your door throughout the evening. After the second year, Frank became somewhat of a building celebrity, and now you’re quite happy knowing that the kids look forward to seeing him every year. They know you more as The Christmas Lady, given your clear preference and enthusiasm for the winter holidays, and a few suspect the Easter Bunny lives with you and Frank, too.

Pouring in a generous amount of your favourite vanilla chai bubble bath, you take a deep breath of the rising scents of vanilla, cloves and cinnamon and start unbuttoning your blouse as you walk to your bedroom, leaving the water to run. You grab your fluffiest dressing gown and your favourite pyjamas, setting them out on the top of your bathroom hamper ready for when you finish your bath, before undressing completely. Your discarded clothes go in the hamper before you perch on the edge of the tub, running your hands through the water to check the temperature and fluff up the bubbles.

You ignore the first knock on your front door, assuming that, like always, there’s one person who hasn’t read Frank’s sign. As a rule, you never open your door and Halloween night, sure that anyone who is confused will either figure it out or give up and move on.

Turning off the water, you get ready to step into the steaming, bubbly water and melt your troubles of the week away when a second, more insistent knocking comes from your front door. With a sigh, you grab your dressing gown and slip it on as you make your way to the front door, tying off the belt as you look out through your peephole to see is bothering you.

To your surprise, you’re met with a grown man and no children. He’s dressed in a simple suit, a white shirt under a black blazer, but with the top few buttons undone you can see a blue t-shirt poking out. His square-rimmed glasses frame his wide eyes, his dark hair pushed back with one small section styled to fall back down over his forehead. You roll your eyes as you unlock your door, stepping back as you open it with a smirk and lean against the frame.

“Hey, Jin,” the man in question straightens up at the sound of his name, pushing his chest out slightly and placing a hand on his hip. The other is holding a paper bag, at the top of which you’re pretty sure you spot another bottle of wine.

“Ma’am,” he says with a curt nod in your direction, a playful glint in his eyes and a matching smirk on his plump lips.

You’ve been seeing Jin for the last couple of months, not quite officially a couple yet but definitely enjoying each other’s company on a regular basis. This wasn’t the first time he’d turned up unannounced, especially since he’d found out you’d been having a stressful time at work over the last few weeks, but you definitely weren’t expecting to see him tonight, not when Namjoon was hosting a party.

Namjoon was your mutual friend and the person who had introduced you to Jin, the two men becoming quick friends when Jin had transferred into Namjoon’s department earlier in the year. He hadn’t introduced the two of you with the intention of setting you up to date, but had simply invited Jin along to a few nights out over the summer, his new colleague quickly being adopted by the rest of your friendship group.

So for Jin to show up at your apartment, a decidedly Halloween-free zone, rather than a party, was indeed a bit of a surprise.

“Can I help you?” you ask innocently, folding your arms over your chest.

“Guess who I am first,” he challenges, pushing his shoulders back to puff out his chest just a little bit more. You make a show of looking him up and down, exaggerating a frown.

“Hmm, Patrick Bateman?”

“He doesn’t even wear glasses!” Jin’s shoulders deflate as he whines, disappointment evident on his face that you can’t help but giggle at.

“Yes, he does,” you point out, thinking back to Christian Bale’s portrayal of the serial killer. “And it would make more sense to be dressed as him for Halloween: Superman isn’t even scary.”

“You don’t like scary,” Jin points out and your heart flutters slightly that he knows that already, a gentle blush rising in your cheeks.

“Yes, well, true as that may be, you haven’t answered my question,” you shuffle slightly on the spot to try and hide how flustered he makes you so easily, but the smile tugging at his lips lets you know that he’s already aware.

“Well, I-”

“Hey!” a small shout down the hall startles you both, the two of you turning to see one of the little girls you recognise from the floor above you, a usually-charming little lady called Maisie. Clearly having run ahead of her parents and younger brother, she’s stood at the top of the stairs, watching you both intently. She’s dressed in what you would consider to be a classic witch costume, with stripy black and purple tights under the puffball skirt of a black dress, a pointed black hat sat on her blonde curls. She has green face paint on and a cape flowing out behind her, a plastic broom in one hand, a small plastic pumpkin already half-filled with goodies in the other. She points her broom handle at Jin, and the grown man in front of you even jumps slightly at the young fury in her eyes. “You’re not supposed to knock on Christmas Lady’s door!” she cries, and if you weren’t so shocked you might laugh at the image of a child defending your honour from someone as gentle as Jin. “You’re meant to go to Frank, he’s in charge of Halloween!”

Jin’s floundering on the end of the five year-old’s glare and you’re touched that Maisie has not only remembered your traditional delegation of Halloween responsibilities to your plastic skeleton, but she believes Jin is bothering you by breaking those rules.

“It’s okay, Maisie,” you assure her and she lowers her broom, although her eyes stay pinned on Jin. “He’s a friend, I was just letting him in.”

“You were?” hope is evident in Jin’s voice when he turns to you, a bright smile lighting up his eyes.

“Yes,” you say as you quickly usher him in before Maisie can ask any more questions, and he slips through the door beside you to enter your apartment. “Thank you for remembering the rules, though, Maisie,” the little girl’s face immediately melts from a frown into a sheepish smile. “Although maybe don’t shout next time, okay?” she nods quickly, her pointed hat wobbling on her head as she promises you that she won’t. “I’m sure Frank wouldn’t mind you taking a few extra sweeties for remembering Halloween is his favourite time of year, though.” You wink and she giggles, skipping over to carefully pick out her favourites from the bright orange bowl.

Just as you wish her a happy Halloween, you see her parents come up the stairwell and offer them a polite wave, which they return as Maisie skips over to them to tell them Frank gave her extra treats this year.

You head back into your apartment, locking the door once again with a sigh and turning to your new houseguest, who stands on the edge of your kitchen, watching you with a smile.

“Sorry for causing trouble,” he smirks and you grin, shaking your head.

“Don’t worry about it. Maisie’s a sweetheart, really.” You eye him carefully, finally able to appreciate the exquisite cut of his suit that makes him look like he walked straight off of a photoshoot. “So, really, what did you want?”

“Oh!” Jin offers you the paper bag he’s still holding with a flourish and a tinge of pink in his cheeks. “Namjoon said you don’t like parties, so I thought I’d bring you a little care package.” Your fingers brush as you take the bag and you resist the urge to take a hold of his hand instead, a tingle of anticipation shooting up your arm and flourishing in your chest. “I also thought you might like some company, so,” Jin adjusts his glasses to hide his nervousness, worried you might turn him away even though he’s now stood in your apartment and you look down to inspect the contents of the bag to hide the growing flush on your face. There is indeed a bottle of wine, a more expensive label of your favourite rosé, as well as what seems to be some fancy take-out boxes containing slices of cheesecake.

You’re used to being alone on Halloween, most of your closest friends opting to go out for alcohol-soaked parties or spend time with their partners instead, so you’re not quite sure how to react to the idea that someone has willingly given up one of the biggest party nights of the year to be with you.

“It’s just Halloween parties I don’t like,” you smile sheepishly, moving further into the kitchen to put the wine and food in the fridge to chill. “Or Halloween at all, really.”

“Really?” You nod shyly, already internally wincing at the slew of objections you normally get when you state your indifference towards the spooky holiday. “What were you planning on doing instead, then?” The ease with which Jin simply accepts it and moves on surprises you, and you find your heart beating a little bit faster as he looks at you with genuine curiosity.

You suddenly remember your outfit, pulling the lapels of your dressing gown together a little tighter across your chest. You and Jin have shared several heated moments over the time you’ve known each other, and while his hands may have slipped under your top and climbed higher up your back a few times, he’s never seen you in any state of undress.

“I was actually going to have a bath,” you say, tucking your hair behind your ear, a nervous laugh escaping you. “I was literally about to get in before you knocked.”

“Oh right, erm,” Jin has the good graces to look embarrassed, shuffling his feet awkwardly as he struggles to figure out where to look. The two of you stand on opposite sides of your small kitchen, neither of you quite sure what to do. You wonder if he felt the same shift in the air as you did at the idea of you being naked on the other side of the door when he arrived. “So are you, erm…” Jin vaguely gestures towards you, cheeks burning red as he stumbles over his words. “Are you still going to-? I mean, do you want to-? Do you want me to-?”

Seeing Jin, a man usually so effortlessly confident, struggling to keep his cool around you gives you a strange surge of confidence that you can’t explain but don’t dismiss, leading you to cut him off with a single, straightforward question.

“Would you like to join me?”

You giggle at the way Jin falls silent, mouth still open mid-sentence. You take the belt of your robe between your fingers, gently teasing at the idea of undoing it for him, watching his eyes drop down to follow the action. You see his jaw tense and he swallows, and when his eyes lift back up to yours they are significantly darker than they were before, his tongue slipping out across his bottom lip before he bites it. And just like that, the stuttering man is gone.

“Would you like me to?”

“Would I ask if I didn’t?” you cock your eyebrow as he crosses the room towards you, eyes unabashedly raking up and down your form. You’ve never considered your fluffy dressing gown to be one of your sexier outfits, but Jin is quickly making you reconsider those thoughts as he tentatively places a hand on your hip, fingers gently stroking the fabric. You can’t pull your eyes away from his, the dark heat in his eyes boring into yours and stoking the fire burning in your abdomen.

“Better take this off then, hadn’t we?” you feel his hands cover yours, long fingers gently prying yours away from the strip of fabric keeping him from your body. The adrenaline pulsing in your veins gives you a better idea, however, and you dip out of his grasp to make your way back towards your bathroom. With a coy smile on your lips, you gently undo the knot yourself and slowly let the fabric fall from your shoulders, exposing your naked form to his eyes. He’s frozen in the middle of your kitchen, so you give him a beckoning curl of your finger before slowly stepping out of his field of vision.

Biting your lip, you pray you haven’t jumped the gun and taken this relationship a step too far too soon, but the gentle footsteps that begin to follow you assure you that he’s definitely interested. You enjoy the feeling of the air against your skin with the sway of your hips, pausing at the entrance to the bathroom to look back over your shoulder.

The sight of Jin unbuttoning his shirt as he follows you sends another bolt of heat through you, although the sight of his Superman shirt underneath does make you burst out laughing. He blushes, laughing nervously as he shrugs off the shirt, but your laughter soon dies in your throat as he quickly lifts the t-shirt off over his head in one quick motion. Seeing his bare chest for the first time shuts you up pretty quickly, the expanse of skin combined with his black trousers, black glasses and black, styled hair leaving you almost drooling over him.

WIth a bite of your lip you wait for him to come to you, your hands immediately reaching out to touch him with an eagerness you don’t even care to hide. It’s returned, though, as Jin’s hands immediately find your waist and pull you close. His face is mere millimetres from yours, breaths ghosting over each other’s cheeks before he ducks his head to bury his face in your neck. The gentle press of his lips against your skin makes you gasp, the heat of his mouth melting any remaining hesitation you still held.

Your fingertips brush over the muscles of his abdomen, his breath catching as you tease the sensitive skin of his hips before gripping onto his belt and pulling him into the bathroom, the heat between the two of you adding to the already steamy room.

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