#and if you wanna have that argument I suggest you come off anon and talk to me one to one we can have a proper conversation about

[ll-until-the-very-end-ll]

"judge a book by its cover" but literally. you do. having her blocked does not make it so you dont actively support her work, which lines her pockets. and even if that wasnt the case, the trans and jewish communities has been begging people for ages to stop supporting harry potter. and yes, this even goes for if you are trans/jewish. be mad at me, but at least think about it a little

I really suggest you go out into the real world and find yourself a real hobby than bashing strangers online without knowing them.

Also, I would LOVE to know how exactly is "me directly supporting her work lines her pocket"? I'm really curious to know! Enlighten me PLEASE!

[girlboypersonthingy]

Hiiii I wanted to request hazbin boys x injured male reader? Reader gets into a scuffle, gets roughed up quite a bit and comes home not looking too well (I wanna see em fuss over the reader lol)

Mmph, yes yes, I love boys fussing over their injured darling. Too fuckin cute! I have so many great requests for Hazbin and Helluva, I’m so excited 🫨 thanks for the request and enjoy anon 💟

Notes: gn!reader bc anyone can get into a scuffle so why not, mostly fluff with a sprinkle of angst

TW: blood, bruises, fighting, cussing, of course it’s suggestive during Angel’s part 😉

Includes Lucifer, Angel Dust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Vox and Alastor

Hazbin boys x reader- Bruises 🖤

You’re not sure who roughed you up, you barely got a look at the dudes before you were laid out on the dirty sidewalk getting punched and trying to push one of the perpetrators off you. Whoever he was, he was strong and brutal and must’ve really had a problem with you because damn, you were fucked up. Not that you couldn’t hold your own, but there was more than one of them and they really caught you off guard. You had suffered several blows to the face and a few kicks to the stomach and back. Seemed like the group showed just a bit of mercy tho- they could’ve broken your legs or straight up killed you. Luckily, you limped away with only minor injuries but a huge blow to your psyche. While it could’ve been worse, it was horrific and traumatizing regardless.

It’s hard trying to stay tough and take care of yourself because you’re scared, feeling like you’ll have to look over your shoulder from now on when you’re out on the streets. It was also a bit embarrassing considering Husk and Angel offered to tag along with you to keep you safe but your dumb ass insisted you were fine alone.

It was late now, around the time everyone went to bed at the hotel so you were expecting to silently creep inside, hobble to your room and take care of yourself in secret. And if anyone asked about the marks or bruises the next day, you’d just blame it on a wild night of partying. To your surprise, as you walk in the door the entirety of the hotel’s staff and residents were sitting on the floor and couches in the front room, drinking and talking by the fireplace. Of course, Charlie had everyone doing some bonding bullshit late at night. The sound of the door clicking open has everyone’s eyes looking towards you now. “Ah, shit…” Leaves your swollen lips as the crowd gasps and one by one, they all stand and approach your damaged figure. Finally, the one person you really didn’t want to see you like this comes rushing forward to get a good look at you.

Lucifer 🍎

“Oh, Satan! (Y/N), are you okay? What happened? Ohhh, my poor angel!”

Proceeds to fuss and worry over you while wearing the saddest expression :,( his poor bb

Might actually cry a little…just hurts him to see his darling all banged up.

It’s not just the physical pain he senses, it’s the emotional pain you feel too- the fear and the trauma and the stress of it all

His hands just hover all around the most damaged parts of you- fingers almost touching your eye which was now swollen shut, his thumb ghosting over your busted bottom lip

Whisks you away to his room and runs you a bath. Gets you all clean and is probably still whining and crying over you as he watches the bath water turn red with all the blood washing off you and gets you ready for bed.

He’s an emotional man, okay?

He also feels extremely guilty for not being there to protect you. Even if you bluntly told him you don’t need his protection, he feels like it’s still his fault at least a little bit.

Miiiiiiight start a silly little argument over you never leaving the hotel or his side ever again lol

“I just want to protect you, my love. Please! Stop being stubborn.”

He’ll really really baby you tho.

Like even if your legs are working fine, NOPE! Don’t move an inch. Luci will carry you anywhere you desire.

“Lucifer, I just have a black eye and some scrapes. I can walk just fine, babe.”

And he’ll just ignore you and continue to coddle you and do everything for you

For sure this man peppers very gentle, very soft and slow kisses on your tender face once you’re cleaned up and finally resting in his bed

And he for sure cries again in the morning when he wakes up and your face looks even worse

Probably even panics a bit like-

“IM TAKING YOU TO A HOSPITAL OH MY SATAN!!! MY POOR BABY WWAAAA!”

“It’s just some bruises! Luci, they always look worse before they look better, I’m fine.”

Just calm him down with some kisses and words of love

Angel Dust 🕸️

“Holy shit! What happened, babe? Oh no…this is bad. This is sooo bad! This is why we wanted to go with ya.”

Also gets very dramatic and concerned, looks so sad over your battle wounds

But of course he’s a flirt even under tough circumstances and can make a dirty joke even in the most dire situations

He’d definitely tell you you look hot asf and that you’re soooo brave~

Tries to lighten the mood a bit

“(Y/N), I wanna be the only one who gets to rough you up.” *pouts but also winks at you*

Angel has had his fair share of beatings courtesy of Valentino so he’s very good at first aid and knows tons of tricks to help with bruising, cuts, scrapes, preventing scars, relieving the pain.

He’s great at the clean up part but even better at the comfort part

Brings out all six arms to wrap you up in while you lay in his bed, cuddling up to you while offering soft kisses to the parts of you that aren’t so sore.

Angel is always down to fuck so if you’re feeling up to it, he’ll offer you some great sexual healing while being oh so careful of all your wounds and all the painful spots.

Will let you take control too, he hopes it’ll make you feel better and maybe return some of the confidence you lost from this scuffle.

He can spot a bruised ego from a mile away and he’ll do anything to get you feeling happy and secure again.

Also argues with you about never letting you go anywhere alone ever again lol he just loves you too much. If you’re gonna get jumped, he’s either gonna be there to help you out of it or he’s gonna be taking half the beating right next to you.

Reminds me of a song…

“I wanna walk with you, wherever you go to. I wanna hurt with you. Whatever you go through, I do too.” -sour switchblade by Elita

Yeah that’s Angel, just wants to be beside you no matter the circumstances

Husk 🃏

“Oh, you dummy! This is why we wanted to go with you. Oh, doll face. Who did this? You alright?”

Yeah, he’s mean sometimes so he’s gonna scold you for going out alone before the comforting starts.

Ultimately, he doesn’t pull you away to get you cleaned up or anything. Lets you decide what to do next, where to go. He just follows you and keeps a hand on you somewhere to let you know he’s here for you.

Will whip up any drink you ask for in hopes of it relieving the pain a bit

But he’s sneaky, he’s gonna ask you tons of questions about what happened, who did it, where you were, how many of them there was. Won’t give you your drink until you answer him.

Husk is plottin and schemin, wanting to get back at the assholes who did this to you. Hes thinking about all the cool, little weapons he has and what he can do with them to teach those jerks a lesson.

In the end tho, he does get more sentimental and soft spoken later while cuddled up to you in bed.

He’ll purr softly in your ear while letting his hands gently roam your body, tracing comforting circles all over your bruised skin

Will def wrap you up in his silky wings and then proceed to pour out his entire heart to you.

“I love you. I’m so glad you’re okay. You need to listen to me. I know better than you, I’ve been down here a long time. You have to be more careful. I dunno what I’d do if I lost ya, doll. You gotta stick with me, I’ll always protect ya.”

Once you fall asleep, he wanders out to the lobby to find Angel at the bar and there they talk about teaming up to get revenge on the assholes who dared to touch Husk’s little babe

The next morning, of course they’re still talking about it. You’ll have to tell these idiots to stop and just let it go bc omg they sound crazy rn they’re gonna make a mess if you let this continue

Buuuut if you kinda like them fussing over you this much, then by all means let them do their thing as you sit back and enjoy the attention

Ooooh, Husky is getting maadddd. Kinda cute when he lets a protective growl slip out while talking to Angel. Aww he loves you~

Sir Pentious 🐍

Immediate tears and full blown panic attack at the sight of your battered face.

“OH MY GOODNESSSSSS!!! My baby! My darling! Ohhhhhh, you poor thing, come here! I’ll take care of you.”

Doesn’t care that the entirety of the hotel residents are crowded around watching you two- Pentious holds you like a baby in his arms and carefully sinks to the ground with you, holding you so tight it actually kinda hurts due to all your bruises.

Cries for a while like this- goes back and forth between examining your bruises and cuts and bloody nose with his watery eyes to then burying his face in your neck as he weeps for you.

“Pen, I’m okay. Just a little banged up. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“I CAN’T HANDLE IT!!! You’re too pretty to be beaten up like thisssss. Aawwwww.” And he’s crying even harder now.

And this goes on for a while until you finally decide to get up and go to your room with him to get cleaned up.

Babies the absolute fuck out of you- brings you food in bed and tries to feed it to you, gets you in the bath and refuses to let you touch anything while insisting he do all the work for you, carries you everywhere.

It’s actually so nice tho- he washes your hair for you real slow and firm as he scrubs your scalp, very carefully washes the dirt and dry blood from your skin only to reveal more bruises he hadn’t seen before, carefully applies ointment to your bloody cuts and scrapes

Listen…this man is not gonna stop crying until you are 100% healed up. Even the next morning, you wake up beside him to see his face wet with tears as he sniffles.

At least you know he really truly deeply cares for you and loves you 💚

“Oh, it’s okay, babe. I’m felling so much better today, especially since I get to start my morning in bed with you.”

And now he decides he’s gonna keep you in bed all day and continue to baby and pamper you

Keeps his tail and most of his body wrapped around you loosely all day as you watch movies and relax. Cant stop staring at your face and focusing on each blue and black bruise you wear, eyeing every cut and scrape and the split skin on your lip.

You took a beating and he thinks it’s only fair that you and him stay in bed until you’re truly feeling well enough to resume your normal daily tasks.

Of course, he has to stay with you in case you need something! Can’t leave his injured partner alone, wouldn’t dream of it!

Vox 🖥️

(I know he’s not at the hotel, pretend you just walked into V Tower instead, k?)

REVENGE REVENGE REVENGE

“WHAT. THE. FUCK?! Who? Where? When? HOW FUCKING HOW DARE THEY-“

You’ll have to cut him off or he’ll go on an entire raging tangent about revenge and eventually short circuit lol

“Voxy, I’m okay. Don’t worry about it. I just wanna get clean and go to bed.”

He slowly cools off and begins to focus more on you and your injuries, asking if you’re okay or if there’s anything he can do. Now behind closed doors, his entire attitude changes.

He’s following you into every room, watching you with an expression of intense sadness and concern, wishing he could take all your pain and give it to himself instead. He’d suffer for you if it meant seeing you happy and healthy

Sits in the bathroom in silence but keeps you company while you wash up. He might ask if you need help but also wants to give you space and make sure you feel safe

Assists you in getting dressed while making it very romantic and being very attentive. Vox will so slowly slip your pajamas onto you while letting his claws ghost over all your bruises.

Will lean in and kiss your busted lips right as your head pops through the top of your shirt, followed by a smile and probably more kisses

Listen, most of these boys are gonna become way more over protective after this incident okay? Vox is most definitely not an exception

Insists that either He’s gonna be with you every where you go from now on or he’s gonna send security with you every where you go from now on.

And no matter who is with you when you’re out in the streets, his cameras will also be watching over you.

Oh yeah, and he goes back in the cam footage and has a perfect view of the whole incident. He watches it over a few times before ordering a hit on every sinner who dared to mess with his lover.

You’ll never have to worry or look over your shoulder or worry again 😘

Alastor 🩸

Doesn’t say much or even stay long to worry about you at first.

He’s more angry and bent on revenge than anything. He’s worried about you too but he knows you’re strong and can take care of yourself.

He slips off to do some exploring and investigating to find out who did this to you

Spends maybe an hour figuring it out and then promptly goes on a murder spree to take care of all those pesky sinners who dared to lay a finger on his beloved

Okay, now that that’s out of his system, he can come back and take care of you.

Isn’t as cuddly and romantic as the others but he still babies you and refuses to let you do anything for yourself.

“Now now, darling. Just relax. I’ll have you cleaned up and feeling better in no time.”

Bathes you, dresses you, tucks you into bed all while humming slow tunes to you

Doesn’t cuddle you but sits on the bed beside you and gives your head some gentle pets

“You won’t have to worry any longer, my dove. I took care of those degenerates and I’ll never let you wander the streets of hell alone ever again.”

Will place a gentle kiss on your throbbing head before leaving you to rest.

He’s serious tho, anywhere you go he goes too. You’re never leaving his sight again ❤️‍🩹

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Treat You | Jeon Jungkook | One Shot

Summary: You wanted to take Jungkook out this time around but things don't go according to plan Paring: f!reader x Jungkook (established relationship) Word Count: 1.6k~ short and sweet Warnings: Just some suggestive language but nothing crazy p.s. I wrote this in one sitting so hopefully it's okay lol Requested by an anon 💜

"Baby" Jungkook answers the phone, his gravelly morning voice sending shivers up my spine. "Did I wake you?" I coo, not expecting him to be sleeping this late making him hum in response. "I should probably get up now though" he says as I start to hear movement in the background. 

"Did you work late?" I ask, knowing he like to put in overtime when he can. "Yeah, just a few hours though" he says, making me hum. "Can I take you out today?" I offer, my heart fluttering even after all this time we've been together. "You wanna take me out?" he chuckles, the sound making me bite my lip. 

He's so fucking sexy in the morning and I'll never get over it.

"Yeah why not? It's been a while since I treated you" I say, hoping he'll bite. "You sure? You don't have to spend your money on me love" he says and I shake my head before remembering we're on the phone. 

"You always pay for everything so I wanna pay this time" I say, making my argument and he chuckles again, telling me he's giving in. "How could I say no when such a pretty girl is asking me out?" he agrees making me smile, the praise unexpected. 

"I'll pick you up at seven" I say but he tries to protest. "I can pick you up princess" he offers but I decline right away. "No. I'm taking you out so I'm driving" I say and he sighs. "I guess I forgot that my girl is so independent, letting me take care of her all the time" he says, his tone laced with something dangerous making me blush. 

"Um, I'll see you then...bye!" I rush to end the call, not wanting to give into asking to see him sooner. 

I want this date to be perfect, I want everything to be perfect.

~~~~~

After getting ready and giving myself a once over one more time I check my purse and see that I can't find my wallet. I furrow my brows, trying to remember the last time I saw it leaving me digging through my closet but after twenty minutes of searching I still come up empty handed. 

I pace back and forth in my room, trying to figure out where I could've left it if not in here but I can't seem to figure it out, leaving me huffing in defeat, looking at the clock and seeing that I'm gonna be late. 

I check inside my purse to see if I have any cash but only manage to find a twenty which is nowhere near enough to take him out to the restaurant I placed our dinner reservations at.

I do another once over and decide to admit defeat, seeing that I'm gonna have to make a change of plans and see if I can manage to take him out with what I have...

~~~~

"I was beginning to think you forgot about me" he chuckles when he sees me standing outside my car and holding the door open, showing up thirty minutes late. "You? Never" I tease leaving him giving me a kiss before sitting down, giving him the passenger princess role for the night.

I close the door once he's all settled in and take a deep breath, giving myself a small pep talk about how everything will be okay even if I can't take him where I wanted to. 

Once I get in I look over at him, the brave face that I told myself I would sport is replaced with a slightly pouty one making his brows pop up and immediately going to caress my face. 

"What's the matter baby?" he asks, brushing his thumb along the apple of my cheek. "I'm sorry, I should've been more responsible but I..." I start, cutting myself off, completely embarrassed that this is happening. "It's okay, just tell me" he coaxes me, making my eyes water. 

"I can't take you out tonight" I say, my voice so quiet he could barely hear it. "Why? What's wrong?" he says, worried that something might've happened. "I...I don't know where my card is so I don't have enough money to pay" I admit, looking down at my lap, trying to hide how upset this made me. 

I wanted to do something nice for him, something to show him how much I appreciate everything he's done for me but I couldn't even take him out for a nice dinner.

"Hey, it's okay" he says and brings my face back over to him. "No it's not okay. I wanted everything to be perfect! I wanted you to have a good time and I just messed it up. Now all I can afford to get you is some fast food burger like this is so embarrassing" I groan, slumping back in my chair and covering my face, hating that something like this is making me so upset. 

"Get out of the car" he says making me look at him like he's grown two heads. "Wha-?" "Come on get out of the car" he urges me and I do as he says. "What are yo-" "Switch places with me" he says and I follow without much of an argument since his behavior has caught me completely off guard. 

"Get in" he says, making me sit down and closing the door for me just like I had done for him a few minutes ago, completely motionless and confused, waiting for him to get into the driver's seat. 

"Jungkook what are you doing?" I ask he he hands me his phone. "Put in the address" he orders, his directions short and to the point. "Jungkook I don't have enough money to go there" I finally argue back. "And I don't care" he says making me question what's gotten into him.

"I don't wanna see you that upset over money ever again. I'm your boyfriend and I work hard to take care of you" he says and when I go to argue back he stops me. "You're my girlfriend and I take care of what's mine. We both dressed up to go out tonight so we're going out and that's final" he states but when I go to try tell him I don't want him to pay he jumps over top of me again. 

"End of discussion" he finishes, his jaw set and his eyes dark, daring me to argue with him but I just gulp and put in the address. 

~~~~~

The car ride is a bit quieter than normal after that, the low hum of the engine and the melody of our playlist coming through the speakers being the only sounds to keep us company. I turned to face away from him this time, my legs resting against the door instead of the center console making it impossible for him to rest his hand on my thigh, not wanting to give in after the way he talked to me. 

"Baby what's wrong?" he finally asks once we pull up to the restaurant, my silence going on for a lot longer than he had expected. "You didn't let me say anything" I mumble and he sighs, knowing he was definitely a lot more harsh than he needed to be. 

"I'm sorry honey I was...I was just really mad seeing you so stressed and upset over something that I could easily solve for you" he says and I hum, understanding his perspective but not appreciating the way he went about it...even if he did look really hot doing it. 

"You always pay for everything though. It makes me feel useless, like I'm just here to spend all of your money" I huff, finally admitting what's been bothering me for a while. 

"I don't see it as you spending my money. If anything you hardly ever ask me for anything so whenever you do say something I jump on it. I like getting you things and seeing that adorable look on your face when I know you love it makes it all worth it. Taking care of you makes me feel like I'm doing right by you so, please let me" he asks, explaining himself now, making me see things from his perspective. 

After taking a second to think about it and seeing the sincere look on his face I nod, accepting defeat because he'd do it anyways even if I said no. "Okay, just don't do it all the time" I say, poking his cheek and making him smile. 

"Deal, now let's go have a nice time together and forget about all of this. Then after we're done you can treat me tonight" he says, confusing me again. "But I told you I don't have money right now unless you want a milkshake or something after dinner" I say, offering that up but he chuckles darkly. 

"I wasn't talking about money princess" his eyes scan my body, taking in each and every inch of it making my skin crawl. "Did I tell you you look really pretty tonight?" he asks and I shake my head, unable to breathe with this heated tension that's grown between us. 

"You'll look even prettier on your knees for me tonight" he says, running his thumb across my bottom lip before getting out of the car and coming over to open my door for me.

"You can't just say things like that and expect me to sit through a whole dinner afterwards" I mumble before getting out of the car. "But I just did" he taunts and pulls me in by my hips before shamelessly feeling me up and kissing me before taking my hand and leading me towards the entrance. 

"You're impossible" I grumble making him laugh and snake his arm around my waist instead. "Impossibly handsome" he teases and kisses me on my cheek making me roll my eyes. "That too" I grumble and spend the rest of the dinner mentally preparing myself for the very, very long night ahead...

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[itsnathateasy]

Hello! Can I request some biker Hange Headcanons or One shots?It's been stuck in my head for days and I really like how you write Hange 💖💕🏃🏻‍♀️💨You can feel free to ignore this request ofcourse!!

warnings: implied accident (but they're all good, i promise!) word count: 1,3k a/n: I LOVE THAT YOU LOVE HOW I WRITE HANGE *FOAMING* CAUSE I’M ALWAYS GIGGLING SO HARD WHEN I’M WRITING THEM AND AHSDOAIJ HEART EYES!!! I hope this lil fic is to your liking anon! Thank you for sending a request and sharing your idea with me! Stay safe!

massive shout out to @satorella for creating this header cause i couldn't do it for the life of me!🩶

“Stop pushing it, Hange! I’m not getting on your bike and that’s final!”

Frustrated, you walked away from them on the sidewalk. You heard them turn off the engine and removing their keys that jiggled with their movements. As they jumped back on the ground, you could hear their footsteps approaching you.

“Don’t be ridiculous, y/n! You’re already late! You should be making it into the office in like... ten minutes! Just, hop on, I promise it’s not a big deal!”

They pleaded with their eyes fixed on you. Their strong hand grabbed you from the shoulder and halted you before you could stroll any further away from where they’d parked their bike.

“Come on, y/n! I’ll go slow and be extra careful!”

“That’s not it, Hange! You know how I feel about bikes! And we don’t even have a second helmet! I can’t ride with you today, I’ll just call an uber.”

“You can use my helmet, y/n, and besides, the office isn’t that far away, I’ll drive through the least busy streets if it makes you feel any better, okay?”

You looked back at them, astound and what they’d just suggested.

“The only thing worse than me getting hurt because I didn’t wear a helmet is you being hurt Hange! Don’t say such things!”

You scoffed and kept on walking away, still frustrated with how it was barely 8 a.m. and you’d already had a fight with Hange, on top of being late for work. Turning to face them, you gave them a quick peck on the lips, zipping and unzipping the top part of their jacket near their neck in a quick, nervous motion. Your hands lingered on the collar of their jacket, not wanting to let go just yet.

“Listen, we both should get to work. Ideally, not both late.”

Hange began to speak again, but you managed to shush them with your finger on their lips.

“I’m upset and I don’t wanna argue about this right now. I’ll call an uber, you’ll go to work with your bike. And we’ll sort this out in the evening. Okay?”

With a soft nod and one of Hange’s kisses on your forehead, your argument was paused.

⊹ ₊ ⋆ 🏍 ₊ ˚ ⊹ ♡ ⊹ ₊ ⋆ 🏍 ₊ ˚ ⊹ ♡ ⊹ ₊ ⋆ 🏍 ₊ ˚ ⊹ ♡ ⊹ ₊ ⋆ 🏍 ₊ ˚ ⊹ ♡

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to ignore me for the entire day...”

Hange giggled as they nuzzled their face in the crook of your neck, kissing a trail from behind your ear, down to your collar bone. Laying with them on the bed after you were both back from work was always a much anticipated time. Today was different though. Hange did their best to get on your good side after your morning argument, but you just wouldn’t give in. They kept texting you throughout the day, but your responses were dry, still upset with their stupid ideas of riding without a helmet. And this argument always took place on the mornings when you’d forgot to carry your own helmet with you! Talk about evil coincidences…

“You’re not off the hook yet! What was it this morning, Hange? Do we really have to fight over motorcycle safety every single week?”

Your words had strung the chords they were supposed to and although you hated to see Hange upset, this was a necessary evil. They stood up and walked in small circles in front of you next to your shared bed.

“I’m never fighting over it, y/n, you are… And I don’t understand why, it’s been so long since-”

“Exactly! It’s been so long and you still insist that I ride with you every time that I don’t have my helmet with me! The sheer thought that I’d ever use your own helmet and leave you exposed is so absurd, the only reason I haven’t slapped you yet is because you’re way stronger than me!”

“That I am!”

They said and didn’t hesitate before pulling both of their sleeves up and flexing their muscles. The silly grin on their face was enough to make you smile, even through your argument. But that was Hange to you, silly to their core and constantly trying to make you happy.

“Promise you’ll never even think of suggesting something like that again, okay? You know how terrible it makes me feel… I won’t be able to stay still on the bike if you’re not 100% protected too!”

Hange sighed and as they let their arms fall, their sleeves rolled back down. Sitting themselves back on your bed, they turned their face towards you, a small smile on their face. How could their eyes be filled with such tenderness towards you even though you’d literally been bashing their ass for the past half hour?

“I promise. For real this time, y/n. I know that time was-”

“Please, let’s not-”

“No, y/n, let’s. Because this may’ve happened years ago, but apparently it’s still bothering you and you’re still punishing me for it!”

You stayed silent, realising how upset they were. And it was true, you kept reminding them about that incident ever so often, blaming them for their irresponsible decision, as if you weren’t to blame as well.

“I know riding without a helmet was careless, y/n... And it was even more careless that I persuaded you to ride with me, without giving you any type of equipment. I’m sorry I was such a fool back then and I’m sorry I didn’t protect you and instead got you hurt. I know it was terrible because my entire life flashed before my eyes and all those weeks that you’d had to have your arm in a cast were the worst weeks of my life. But I promise I’m not as foolish as I was back then. And I’d never suggest that you ride without a helmet if the distance wasn’t as close as your office. Which was also foolish to suggest, I know it’s risky no matter the distance... But it won’t happen again. Is that okay?”

You opened your mouth to speak but held back. If it weren’t for the look in Hange’s eyes, you’d probably go on with being pissed with their behaviour for a little longer. Seeing how they were completely honest about this, you gave them a small smile, which shortly spread on their face as well.

“Even though I didn’t want to talk about this, Hange, I’m really glad we did. I was at fault too. I shouldn’t have agreed to not ride with you that day. I knew the risks and still I… Anyway, it’s out of the way now! And I’m sorry for always making it seem like it was your fault only. Think we’re good?”

“We are, y/n. I knew you’d forgive me!”

Hange began to make themselves comfortable in your arms again and kissing you here and there. You couldn’t help but giggle as well at their sudden change of mood. Between laughters and kissing back, your previous conversation was long forgotten and the peppering kisses soon turned into a full on make out session, Hange’s hands roaming all over your body, touching and squeezing every piece of skin they could lay their hands upon.

“How can you switch from apologetic to giggly to stuffing your tongue down my throat within seconds, Hange?”

You asked, still laughing at their goofy behaviour, but not in the least bit upset with them anymore, as you tried to break free from their hold on you.

“Must be our argument. It’s kinda hot when you’re mad. I should come up with new ways of infuriate you I think.”

With a mischievous grin and playful eyes, they attached their lips to yours again.

[valarie-lovely]

"Quit Yelling!"

{Hey guys :3, I'm like super sick rn so like I'm gonna do this fic for the anon that suggested it! Sorry it took so long. Anyway, my winter break is almost over and I am like devastated. Hope everyone had a great New Year! Anyway, this takes place after the bathroom trap, reblogs and likes are appreciated, thank you! ♡}

Story Contains: Arguing, harsh language, mentions of truama, angst, comforting words and actions, fluff

———

The look in Adam's eyes says a lot. He's mad, pissed even. He's tried being soft with you, tried being kind and emotionally there, but it hasn't seemed to work for the both of you. Every time you have a problem with his actions or what he says, you keep it inside, letting it marinate in your mind and heart. Whenever he has a problem, despite trying to talk it out like adults, he just criticizes all of your actions harshly, always picking fights with you even though he hates these arguments.

The current situation that lies here revolves around communication. He's mad because you can't seem to speak out about your feelings, which causes him to feel like he's in the dark about your emotions and how you actually feel. In all honesty, you can't blame him for feeling this way. He is absolutely correct, and he does deserve someone who can communicate their emotions thoroughly without having to act immature and keep them hidden away. Yet, you know that he also has a problem with communication, so he must learn how to own up to that as well.

"Listen, I just think you should calm down. I mean, it's clear you have a problem with everything I do, so why do I even bother anymore!? Just quit yelling, you're utterly exaushting to deal with!" You spit out, watching his anger contort into something worse. He can feel his veins fill with hot blood at your words. He's always been a bit of a hot head, yet he's different this time. You know that it's not only your communication skills that are pissing him off. It's something more. Something deeper.

"You wanna talk about my problems when you can't even talk about your own? Isn't that fucking ironic, huh!? You're such a child, you can't even talk to me. I'm so fucking sick of your stupid little attitude, your tone, your personality, everything! Fucking everything! I can't even look at you without wanting to strangle the next living thing that walks its way past me!!" Hes practically going insane over this small altercation, causing you to stare at him like he's actually lost his mind.

And then, the realization comes crashing down onto your shocked face. This isn't the same boy he was before the trap. Adam isn't the boy he used to be. That boy, the one who used to sit outside with you, smoking cigarettes and feeding cats as he complimented your pretty features, has now changed into a traumatized, scared man. What he went through, something you have no idea what it was like, fucked him over more than anything else has. Well, anything but his childhood truama. When he does actually show his emotions, they're heavy. He's never just sad or angry. He's depressed or livid. He needs help.

"Adam.. You need fucking therapy. Go and find someone who cares, because I sure as hell don't. You're a pathetic excuse of a man. You're a boy." You manage to choke out, knowing that every word that escaped your lips were pure lies. You can see his jaw unclench, definitely hurt by your sudden words of anger and sorrow. His ocean eyes look down at the dirty, wooden floor, his nose breathing in the cold air that flows around his dark apartment.

~

The apartment is silent for the next couple of hours. You shower under some some cold water, leaving a chill down your spine as the shower head spits out the liquid. While stepping out of the cold tub, drying yourself off, brushing your teeth, staring at yourself in the mirror with solemn eyes, you just can't seem to stop thinking about his face, his emotional eyes that make puppies jealous. You only want him to feel loved, yet your words of poison stung his deepest insecurities. You know your souls are intertwined, which makes this pain hurt worse.

Sliding on your long sleep shirt, you slip down to the floor, leaning against the wall that's slowly peeling due to the poor quality. His words linger in your mind, which causes your breathing to hitch. Warm tears sting your eyelids worse than what his words ever did. He's supposed to be your everything, but it seems like neither of you are good for the other. This can't happen, you think in your head. Something needs to change because you know you can't lose your boy.

Suddenly, a knocking sound occurs at the bathroom door. Lazily pushing yourself off the floor to reach for the knob, you turn it and pull the wooden door open. Once you do, you're met with Adam and his regretful face. He's holding his headphones and Walkman in his right hand, his left still raised against the door. "Love.. I'm sorry. I— I was thinking I could maybe brush your hair as you listened to our Playlist on here." He raises the Walkman. "I know I don't usually let people touch this old peice of junk, but I love you, and I want you to know that. I shouldn't have said those things to you, but it's really hard not to lose my temper when you don't talk to me about your emotions. Can you forgive me, babe?"

The sight itself causes you to shed more tears. He's changed into your favorite shirt of his, knowing that it's the one you like to lie against after having a bad day. He's never been the domestic type, but he's different for you. With a sniffle and a nod, you walk right into his arms, burying your sad face into his warm neck.

Sitting in bed, you have the headphones on, listening to whatever song that graces your eardrums. A brush glides through your hair as Adam holds it. Gently and calmly, he makes sure you're okay and that you feel nothing but loved and cared for. These moments are rare, so you know you shouldn't take them for granted. A sudden feeling of Adam's lips graze the back of your neck as he wraps his arms around your waist.

He slips the headphones off your ears, gently peppering your shoulder with soft pecks. "I hope you're not mad anymore. I shouldn't have said what I said. I— I have no excuse for my actions, but I hope you still love me because I know I love you. I'm going to change, so nothing like that happens again, but it means you have to change too. Talk to me. Don't hold it in. Alright?" His words fill your ears, proving his love and devotion for you.

"You're right.. I know. I'll change, love. I will. I forgive you.. Now, can you keep me close?" You ask, your eyes fluttering open and meeting his. He agrees, pulling you closer and showering your plump lips with his.

Okay! Uhm, hope you guys liked it! Likes + reblogs are encouraged. Thank you for reading :) ♡

[dabihawksluvr]

the reason i'm on anon is bc i wanna see ur fuck ass response LMFAO and my problem isn't w you having a headcanon!!! genuinely, i personally believe dabi is a rapist and a murderer so like. my problem isn't w you having a headcanon babes trust. my problem is when you make something that is ROOTED in misogyny, and then when you get called out for it you double down instead of going 'my bad, i didn't realize it could come off that way'. also, afab people can still have internalized misogyny, hope that helps! again, TO BE CLEAR: i do not have a problem w your headcanon and i actually do think w the way you explained it in the tags (coward. i feel like calling you a coward for talking in the tags instead of outright is fair since you called me a coward for wanting to see your response) IS genuinely a cool concept and i too would love to see character development shown in new and different ways. but you didn't make that clear at all, so. yeah. people are going to see your misogyny for what it is. so. again, headcanon whatever you want. but don't expect to get away with blaming your problems on a fictional character and getting no backlasshhh... also insulting people when they call you out for something is nawt the way to win an argument, like at all... it actually kinda proves that ur pulling shit out of your ass for your own personal entertainment/because you have nothing better to say or do. hope this helps!! (and btw, i do have you blocked im just a hater <3)

I'm gonna have to get serious for this one...

+ You do have a problem with my headcanon, otherwise you would've left me alone instead of causing drama. (I do thank you for blocking me tho at least you're somewhat aware of what you're doing)

+ Dabi is canonically a murderer, he's a villain and shown to burn people with his flames all the time. But you seeing him as a 'rapist' is on you, it honestly sounds more 'misogynistic' to me than him simply hating on women but not acting on it besides maybe some dejected words or not seeing women as a threat. And news flash, Dabi hates everyone already. So that includes women by default.

+ You and others have told me several times that I am 'misogynistic' for my headcanon, I may be delusional but I'm not going around saying whatever you and others are trying to imply. I never once said I look down on or hate the female characters (or any females who did respond to my post), my OG post was meant to be a little bit of angsty fun and nothing more. If you got this upset, I suggest seeking therapy because you have greater issues than I ever will. And I admit, my mental health is pretty bad. But even I can see you are going through some stuff, just go seek help.

+ I did make it clear. I wrote it in my OG post, how it would be a cool concept to see Dabi/Touya be a bit misogynistic but then he'd get over it because Fem!Y/N helps him see that women can be strong rather than just pawns to men. If you misunderstood that, maybe you should've been nicer about it instead of insulting me outright. YOU are the reason the drama started, so take responsibility for that. You are trying to push it all on me, when you were the first to make a response and 'call me out' for literally no sane reason.

+ What 'problems' have I blamed on any character? Sure, I do connect with Dabi on a deep level because his story is close to my own experiences with past trauma/abuse. But I have not once blamed any character for my own issues. Unless you can find any post of mine where I say that I exactly blame a character for my own shortcomings or behaviors, then just stop saying that I'm blaming a fictional character for things that I've done. I may not be mentally aware of reality 90% of the time, but I still have enough intelligence to distance myself from the fiction I enjoy.

+ You are doing the exact same thing. I'm actually being serious with this response, if you cannot handle someone cursing at you then not my problem. It's insane that you are taking it THIS seriously, to the point where I don't even find it funny anymore. You are sad and pathetic, literally you could've just blocked me before but you had to respond and insult me because you saw me portray a FICTIONAL CHARACTER in a way you didn't like. Even I'm smarter than this, if I hate what someone posts this much I just block them and go on with my day.

+ The ONLY good thing you did was block me, but that is the bare minimum here. I could call you all the same things you called me, that you are a loser who has nothing better to do than stir up needless drama. At least I admit my OG post was just for 'funsies', unlike you and many others who've started attacking me because you are too chronically online. You are the one pointing the finger, saying I am a 'misogynist' because of a stupid headcanon I didn't even take seriously to begin with. Dabi is not real, it doesn't matter what headcanons I decided to give him because he is not a real person who can just come up to me and reply back.

...I think those are all the points I wanted to respond to. But honestly, just grow up. Dabi/Touya is not real, if you are this hurt over somebody that's fictional then just go seek therapy. I'm delusional, but I'm not THIS delusional to where I attack other people over stupid things like this. Just move on and block me.

You are no different than the homophobes who use IzuOcha as a vessel to attack the fujoshi and lgbt members of this fandom. You are using a fictional character to justify harassing someone else, while putting blame onto that other person because you got upset and were called out on it.

This will be the final Anon I will respond to. Any others I get in the future will be ignored.

[damnfandomproblems]

Okay, it may be time for another one of these sort of inbox reply compilation posts, regarding the same post Problem #5168 and the ensuing reply exchange.

One more reply from the OP of #5168, responding to this ask:

Being passive aggressive and acting superior is ALSO rude. Therefore, since it was done in reply to my submission, i have every right to swear and tell that person where they can shove it. Im not trying to say you cant give me what i give you. Swear at me too if you want. Idgaf. I just refuse to be told how to speak. People wanna act like they no longer take me seriously because i swear, but decide to argue with me and tell me they dont like that i swear. Make it make sense. idk why I'm being singled out lol. Maybe because I'm actually responding to it. Hardly do i ever curse at people. I didnt call anyone a bitch or use any particularly offensive language or anything. All my cursing in my submission was used to express my anger with the exception of telling vague people to fuck off. I swore only 8 times. Yet the first anon that submission got acted like it was truly difficult for their pure, swearword free mind to read. Like seriously how does cursing and being angry make something "hard to read"? They must have a hard time reading everything here. Honestly i think they should look to read somewhere else because this blog is all about people's problems. Everyone's angry about something or another. Ig my submission was just tooo angry for people. Guess i crossed a line by being angry and cursing in my submission. Its such a stupid thing to argue about too cuz most of these people agree to some extent but for some reason they just cant handle me being upset? I can't wrap my head around why they care so damned much about whether or not an argument has swearwords or not. There's literally no need for me to censor myself here.

And a few others' replies, regarding this exchange.

Anon:

My dude, you're accusing others of missing the point, yet in your very first paragraph you're already going on about "professionalism" when that's not what anyone else was talking about. You're putting words in their mouths.

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

Anon:

This is becoming such a strange conversation... Even if someone is being passive aggressive and or a dick to you, stooping to their level and then some by telling them to shove a post up their ass is just childish. Secondly, are you willingly ignoring how that anon pointed out that nobody cared if you responded "professionally", it was about just doing the bare minimum? "Professional" is a pretty wild word to use, nobody was suggesting you have to sound like you're working as a bank teller. Maybe the other anon pulled something out of their ass but where did "professional" come from but your own ass...? I don't know, just reading this whole thing is just perplexing me. ^^;;;

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

Anon:

Can the two people arguing through the askbox get a room already

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

Anon:

So this whole "fuck" debacle is happening, and I can't stop laughing because all I can think of is this scene: https://youtu.be/PmCLeTqD4hY?feature=shared&t=44

(It is a YouTube link to a clip from the South Park Movie)

[fentanyl-fantasies]

hi didn’t wanna call anyone out , you were anon anyways , but I appreciate your concern for my safety in regards to my age and the content I post but let’s not talk to kids (I’m kids) about pedophiles wanking off to them, and finding them and hurting them, and bringing their (my) boyfriend into said argument. deleted your ask cause it made me insanely uncomfortable. what I post on my blog is what I post. I know the risks that come with posting what I do at my age, and interacting with the content I do at my age. I’m not unaware of horrible people cause I’ve been victimized before by people in the past in regards to the way I am , but when it comes to my blog and what I post, that’s my blog. I have like. little followers and no traction and if some fucking degen wants to take my work and do something nasty in their free time cause they just loveeeee minors if I’m not aware of it I don’t care cause it’s just art and my character Dante isn’t aged according to my age , he’s ageless for the most part, maybe mid twenty’s , but he just doesn’t have a real age. It’s not like he’s a minor too so I draw stuff like that of him because that’s what I like, he’s my fursona / persona for a reason. I’m not trying to completely ignore your point but your attempt to “not be a hardass” just doesn’t work when you come off so aggressive and disturbing with how you speak that’s not just being harsh and concerned you’re just making people uncomfortable. I’m real tired of being treated like I don’t know anything, I don’t know a lot of things but I do know about how awful people can be and I’m aware of the consequences my posts can bring, that being said I choose to post what I draw, suggestive or not, because it makes me happy. thank you.

(The only reason I even have my age in my bio is cause half of tumblr is a fucking stickler for saying “ageless blogs dni” , I can understand minors dni. And that’s why I bring my suggestive stuff to my own space cause I’m not allowed anywhere else. Frankly if I didn’t wanna be blocked by half the cool blogs I look at I wouldn’t have ever put my age down.)

[thesolferino]

Favor

⤷ dream x f!reader.

⤷ genre: angst, fluff

⤷ word count: 8.4k

⤷ requested: yes, by this lovely anon!

— summary: dream asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a day. things only seem to go downhill from there.

It started as a favor.

On a quiet night in your apartment when you stared at your phone for way longer than your eyes could physically take and rolled around on the bed, talking to one of your best internet friends, Dream, he asked you for a favor. His voice was muffled through the mic on his phone, the one connected to his computer way cleaner, but neither of you could bother getting off FaceTime and call on Discord instead - yet you still heard him loud and clear, because you burst out laughing right after.

“What the hell did you just say?” you laughed, turning on your stomach and opening the call, now entirely focused on the timer that counted every second you spent talking to him instead of your Twitter timeline.

“It’s embarrassing, don’t make me repeat it!” And for that sole reason, you wanted him to repeat it, loud and clear.

“Is this why you were so insistent on me coming down to Florida? So I could pretend to be your girlfriend at your cousin’s wedding so your family doesn’t think you’re a loser?” you laughed, finding the situation entirely absurd as he sputtered, words mashing together, trying to defend himself.

“No! No, I wanted you to come here because we’re friends and I-I wanna meet you, this is just a… benefit, of sorts.” he replied, and you couldn’t help but laugh even harder at his poor attempt of trying to save face.

“Alright, I’ll bite.” you chuckle. “What’s in it for me?”

“Whatever you want.” he responded, much too quick. Your eyebrows raised.

“Whatever I want?” you parroted.

“Yes.” he confirmed. “I’ll buy you something, if you want; I’ll even pay you-”

“Pay me?! I’m not a whore, Dream!” 

“That is not AT ALL what I was saying!” he cut in, yelling as you burst into a new fit of laughter. “It’s just… I sort of already told them I have a girlfriend and I was just hoping you’d say yes ‘cause it’s gonna be very awkward if I show up without the girlfriend in question.” 

You put your head in your hands and he sort of dryly laughed at himself when he heard your palm hit your forehead. “What is wrong with you, man?” 

“Listen, it’s not gonna be so bad! Just stay by my side for a bit, look pretty, we’ll get some drinks, and then dip. That’s it, I promise.” he reasoned.

“And here I thought we were gonna make out in front of everyone. What’s a fake relationship if we don’t make a show out of it?” you sarcastically snickered, and could practically see his eyeroll from miles away.

“If that’s what you want, then we’ll do it, by all means.” he replied and you laughed, shaking your head in mild disbelief.

“Alright, well, if you already told them, I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” you huffed, pretending to be way more bummed out about it than you really were. “I’ll do it.” 

“Thank you so much, oh my God.” he replied and you chuckled at the sheer relief in his voice.

A few seconds of silence pass. “What’s the catch?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“How do you want me to publicly embarrass myself in exchange for this favor?”

“Personally, I think that forcing you to tweet that tweet about pissing yourself in bed again and also tweeting that everyone should subscribe to me isn’t “publicly embarrassing” at all.” 

“Maybe I should’ve picked a different fake girlfriend.”

“Sucks to suck, pissbaby.”

The weeks leading up to your meetup felt like years, with every treacherous minute of you two talking over muffled mics and shitty webcams feeling longer than it should, your empty apartment feeling emptier and emptier by the day. Was it even possible to miss a person you hadn’t even met yet? 

It turns out that it very much was, because as soon as the painfully long weeks were up and you were finally metres away from him, you jumped in his arms like a woman finally seeing her soldier husband after the war, standing on your tiptoes while he bent down the best he could to hug you back. His chest rumbled with a warm laugh when you turned your head ever so slightly towards his ear.

“Hello, boyfriend.” And just like that, the warm turned into a groan of faux annoyance while you burst into laughter and he pulled away, scanning your face with an equally annoyed look.

“I should’ve never asked you for that. You’re never letting it go, are you?” Yeah, you were kind of annoying with the amount of corny boyfriend jokes you threw his way - you had to give him that. But then again, he crafted his own fate and now he must accept the consequences.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realise your majesty wasn’t appreciating the work I’m doing! I just won’t show up at that wedding, how about that?” you bit back, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You’re such an idiot.” he laughed. “Give me those bags.”

A blissful week had passed, and he hadn’t pissed you off in real life nearly as much as you thought he would. It took a bit of getting used to to his family calling him Clay instead of his beloved internet username, and you did get a couple of suggestive looks from his mother the first few times she visited - you had a couple of “eye conversations” in which she never exactly asked if you were his girlfriend, and you never exactly denied it, but you knew both of you felt the weight of the unspoken words yet you had to keep everything secret and ambiguous. Or at least you thought you did, before he revealed to you that he told his mom the two of you were dating already. Seems like the glances were knowing and not questioning. Maybe you weren’t as good at eye conversation as previously thought.

Living with him was fine, mostly because he had godly air conditioning and a house that was probably way too big for him, and also a very cute cat that followed you everywhere and made living with a man for a full two weeks way more bearable. Finding out that he can’t cook was one of the most bizarre revelations about him that you’d had in the years of your friendship, and you demanded he watched as you made chicken wraps. You complained about how he was 21 and couldn’t cook for himself, he complained about how it’s 2021 and he can just order from Chipotle or something, dude.

A week of goofing around and trying to hide the fact the two of you temporarily lived together from the internet had passed quicker than it should’ve, and for the first time in seven days, Netflix was turned off and the two of you were dressing up for the wedding, ready to set off with his parents and younger sister. He spent ages trying to convince you to match with him, which was quite literally impossible because he wore a black suit and you brought a red dress, which resulted in the two of you roaming around a local mall at 10 am, half asleep, looking for a reasonably formal black dress, because of course Dream always got his way.

An hour of arguing and your fashion tastes clashing later, you picked an off shoulder black dress with a high slit, along with a pair of pumps, both of which you forced him to pay for, and went back home, ready to glam both of you up as much as humanly possible because you were not ready to let him show up in some horrendous pair of shoes and claim to be your boyfriend. 

“Is this okay?” you questioned, turning from the mirror to face him and let him be the judge of your shimmery black and white eyelids, spending way too much time on a makeup look for a wedding of someone whose name you didn’t even know. He blinked at you as his judging gaze washed over you like a wave, scanning you up and down while you nervously cocked your head, leg tapping in faux impatient annoyance to cover up the fact that you felt like prey under his eyes. 

“It’s… yeah, it is. You look good.” Dream confirmed, nodding his head at you in a movement that was way too quick and snappy and you turn back to the mirror with a huff, watching him stare right back at you. 

“Too much, right? I should try something else.” You say, grabbing your makeup remover wipes, but he cuts in before you can even wipe a single smudge.

“No, no, it looks good, I promise. Really good. Don’t touch it.” Something way too sincere in his voice makes the air tense, more tense than usual, but you drop it, deciding to just take the compliment with a tight lipped smile.

“Okay. You ready?” you ask, and he nods, nervously straightening out his suit before looking back at you with an anxious grin.

“Yeah, I think so. Do I look fine?” 

He did. He looked more than fine. You’d never seen him actually dress up for something and put proper care into his looks - he was practically forced into doing it by you this time as well - so seeing him in an actual black suit, all formal and expensive looking, messy dirty blond hair properly combed for the first time in ages, made you gulp and look away. You sort of never understood the argument that women and men can’t be friends because you were never attracted to one of your male friends, ever. Dream was born to be an exception to every rule, it seemed. 

Realising that you abruptly looked away, you attempted to awkwardly clear your throat and smile at him.

“Yeah, you do. Let’s go.”

During the ride there, his mother seemed to finally explode and the words that have clearly wanted to pour out of her mouth for ages finally came out. You supposed it was better for the poor woman, and did your best to suppress a laugh when Dream dramatically sighed and leaned against the window when she nosily spoke up. 

“So… since when have you and Clay been together? He’s told us absolutely nothing!” She spoke up from the passenger seat, shifting to look at you, excited smile plastered on her face and you politely smiled back, mentally noting that you’d have to bully the shit out of him for acting like his mom is embarrassing him in front of his 8th grade crush.

“Ah, we’ve been friends for a long while, but we only started dating a month or so ago, because it’s hard doing long distance and all that.” you said, hoping it would sound believable enough because the two of you rehearsed this a few days ago, writing out a whole backstory from how you started dating to what exact words he used when he asked you out. There were a couple of arguments here and there, such as the fact you refused to say you confessed you’ve been in love with him for years and he refused to say he admitted he’s been your “bottom bitch” for 3 years but in the end, you somehow managed to agree on a cohesive timeline of events.

“Oh, does that mean you’re going to move here?” she questioned, and that one didn’t surprise you either, Dream having prepared a full list of answers to questions that people might ask in your notes app. He was a perfectionist to the point it got on your nerves, but that had its own perks.

“No, but I’ll definitely visit more often, and if it goes well, I might as well move here.” you smiled back at her and she nodded, going back to staring through the windshield. You and Dream exchange a relieved glance that you hope his younger sister doesn’t notice.

“Let me tell you, I was waiting for you two to get together! He always talked about you, I was getting tired of him, you know that?” she giggled and you widened your eyes at Dream who, snapping out of somewhat of a daze, immediately jumped to protest, light blush adorning his pale cheeks. 

“No, I didn’t! I did not, mom, don’t lie to her.” he argued while all she did was laugh.

“Oh come on, it’s not embarrassing now that you’re together!” she kept going, and his younger sister joined in, to make it even worse.

“Yeah, you do talk about her a lot, not gonna lie.” she spoke up and his cold glare directed her way told you everything you needed to know, hanging on by a thread not to burst out laughing. He refused to even look your way, turning back to the window as his cheeks started heating up. You couldn’t help but let out at least a bit of a giggle, placing your hand on his arm in fake comfort.

“It’s okay, you can admit it now.” your tone borderlined on mocking and he knew you’d make fun of him for days to come so he stayed silent while the rest of the car burst into laughter.

The wedding was truly beautifully set up, set in a hotel wedding venue, walls painted in pure innocent white with hints of gold here and there, and you nudged Dream as the two of you observed in awe, asking what sort of money the groom had to be able to afford this sort of expensive venue. Nudging him proved to be way easier now, because you linked arms - you originally made fun of him for suggesting to walk like that instead of holding hands like normal people, telling him you’d look like you were at your high school prom, but he persisted, and you didn’t end up looking as goofy as you thought. 

“He’s a doctor or something, pretty sure.” he replied, quick feet trudging down the long hallways, your own struggling to keep up with him, especially in your heels. He seemed to be in a rush to sit and get it over with as soon as possible so he could avoid any nosy family members, but bad luck followed him everywhere, it seems, because as soon as you two entered the place where the bride and groom would unite, at least three different pairs of eyes locked on you, and you immediately saw a fairly elderly woman get up with open arms, staring at Dream with a grin on her face. You saw him immediately tense up, and almost laughed right then and there.

“There’s my boy! Oh, you’ve grown so much, come here!” The woman looked to be in her fifties and Dream let go of your arm to nervously laugh and fall into her hug, the two rocking from side to side as she kept going on about how it seemed that he grew taller and taller every time she saw him. 

When the two pulled away, her eyes fixed on you, judgingly scanning from head to toe and you suddenly realised why Dream tensed up the way he did - old white women sure had a way to make you anxious. Thankfully, he stepped in. 

“Aunt Bessie, this is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, this is aunt Bessie, my mom’s older sister.” he generously offered the explanation you were so obviously lacking and you grinned, as if that information helped you in any way, and stuck out your hand in an offer of a handshake. However, she seemed to have different plans, because as soon as she heard the words “my girlfriend” her face lit up as if she won the lottery and her lips stretched into a smile, opening her arms for you the same way she did for him. 

“Oh my God, you finally got a girlfriend? Come here!” she said, shaking her head at your outstretched hand and gesturing you to return the hug which you quite hesitantly did, politely laughing as she hugged you tighter than you’d deem appropriate. Dream came from a family of huggers - that much was apparent from him, you guess, but you weren’t exactly prepared for this.

Aunt Bessie seemed to be way louder and screechier than expected, because the word “girlfriend” boomed through the room and off the snowy walls, and at least five other family members of his turned around to check who the lucky fellow that finally got a girlfriend was. Another one of his aunts seemed to notice the commotion and suddenly, another older woman with shoulder length, dyed blonde hair, along with her two younger kids, was hurling at you as well. 

“I always complained to him that it was about time he got a girlfriend! He’s a fine young man, no wonder you picked him, honey.” Aunt Bessie shot you a knowing look and you closed your mouth in a tight lipped smile in a feverish attempt to keep down the laugh that threatened to escape you. 

“Oh yeah, he definitely is.” you giggled, looking up at Dream again who looked like he wanted the earth below his feet to open and swallow him whole. Before you could nudge him in the ribs and tease him for hours to come, the other aunt suddenly spoke up.

“Clay! Oh my gosh, is that you?” she exclaimed, shocked grin on her face, and you briefly wondered if Dream ever even visited his family. He nervously smiled, obviously not really sure who this woman even is, but he hugged her back anyway, clearly walking the line between ‘happy to see his family’ and ‘insanely uncomfortable’.

“I haven’t seen you in so long, your dad hasn’t visited since we moved to Toronto! Look at how tall you are, you’re taller than my husband now! You used to be so tiny, whatever happened to you?” Upon hearing the word Toronto he seemed to realise who he was talking to as his eyes softened, and you wondered if he really was so expressive or you could just read him that well.

“I grew up, I guess.” He awkwardly laughed and she laughed harder than she should’ve before turning to you.

“Oh, and who is this?” She said, gaze periodically switching between him and you, a knowing smile on her face which told you she definitely knew who you were.

“Ah, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, this is… my dad’s cousin, Mabel.” He introduced, large hand landing on your back, and you felt like you were experiencing déjà vu at the way her face lit up at the mention of a girlfriend. 

“Wow, it’s so nice to meet you, Y/N!” She said, energetically shaking your hand, before turning back to Dream. “You never told us you got a girlfriend! You’re finally planning on settling down, huh?” 

Your head snapped in his direction at the speed of light when she mentioned settling down, and you could see him tense up as well as he nervously laughed.

“Yeah, we haven’t visited in a while, so nobody from the family really knew. And, uh… we haven’t really thought of that yet, we’re taking it slow and everything.” He said and you were almost in awe at how good he was at bullshitting. The woman did nothing but laugh.

“Ah, don’t lie to me, I see the way you two look at each other! It’s your wedding we’ll be attending next!” She winked, and just as Dream got ready to fake laugh once again, her family called her over and she excused herself, walking off.

The two of you hurried to your seats as well, sitting down next to his younger sister. 

“Your family is insane, man, holy shit.” You laughed in disbelief, staring at him as he shook his head, clearly as distressed as you were.

“Literally nobody in this family gives a single fuck if I’m single or not except the old aunties. And I seem to have a shit ton of those.” He muttered under his breath. “The way you look at each other - I literally didn’t even look at you properly that whole time!” 

You cackled at that one, hitting his arm. “She’s right, Clay. You’re one fine young man, eh?” You nudged him as he groaned in embarrassment, only turning your way to glare at you. 

You didn’t get to tease him for much longer, though, because the organ started playing and the bridesmaids and groomsmen lined up, the groom standing at his designated place. The bride walked in, arms locked with her father, thin white veil covering her face as she walked down the aisle, looking angelic in her puffy wedding gown. Silky brown hair fell down her shoulders, curled towards the ends, and you could see the hint of blood red lipstick beneath the veil. She looked beautiful - the groom seemed to think so as well, because you could see him tapping the corner of his eye lightly, wiping any stray tears.

She finally made it to the end and stepped to face her soon-to-be husband as her father moved away, sitting back in his chair. The wedding officiant stepped up, and held a speech much longer than it should be, which just led you to zone out. 

One day you’d be beneath that veil, wouldn’t you? One day, you’ll face your fiancé the same way she is, and you’ll let your hearts link with a string that nobody but the two of you could snap. Who would that be, though? Who could you even trust with your heart in their hands? And you’re not aware of how and why and when, but your eyes shot up at Dream, whose eyes also glinted in that way where you knew he wasn’t paying attention, and maybe he was thinking about the same thing as you. Maybe one day, you’ll be attending his wedding, forcing one of your friends to play a fake boyfriend as he wipes his tears, waiting for his bride to get to him. 

It was disheartening, the thought of being a bystander while he locks lips with somebody else. You supposed you just liked being the center of attention, so you let yourself pretend you were his bride in your daydreams. Separating daydreams from rational thoughts was mandatory, because you weren’t sure how you’d explain to yourself that you can’t stand seeing Dream marry someone else. 

Dream, the infamous hopeless romantic, still seemed out of it, maybe even a little emotional, despite not being that close with either of the two. He was probably thinking about his own wedding as well, thinking about his future, the face he’d see when he pulled back the veil.

Just then, his eyes darted to yours, and you realised you were caught staring, snapping your head back to the couple that started reading their vows by now. You started going red from the neck up, cheeks on fire as you could feel his gaze burning into you. He turned back after a few seconds, though, probably assuming you stared at him because you were bored, and neither of you spoke, even though you kind of wish you did. What even is there to say, though? 

By the time you snapped back, the “I do”s were already being said, and her veil was getting lifted, showing her beauty to everyone present, and as they kissed the whole room bursted into cheers and applause in support of the newlyweds. The two exit, teary eyed, their parents follow close behind, and that’s when Dream’s family rushes both of you to your feet, following the two into the reception hall where the actual party would take place. 

From then on, the wedding is the same as any other. The two have their first dance, they give a welcoming speech, and Dream lets you stuff your face with cake and repeatedly refills your wine glass as repayment for dragging you into this whole thing. At some point, he stretches his hand out to you and asks for a dance like a rom-com main character, and you’re not sure exactly why he did that because he’s mostly terrible at dancing, but you had fun letting him twirl you until you got dizzy anyway.

You also realised just how much he did actually need a fake girlfriend, because it seemed like every twenty minutes some sort of relative of his would walk up to the two of you and congratulate him on “finally getting a girlfriend”. You ended up bullying him for that as well, wondering just how long he’s been single for if they’re all this surprised that he’s got a girlfriend, to which he just downed the glass of water he’d been sipping for half an hour and asked you about the weather.

His family took a few pictures with the new couple - you even got to speak to the bride at some point, congratulating her and wishing the two of them well, but in the span of a few hours, the wedding was over and the newlyweds made a great exit, signifying the end of the party. The two of you were driven home by his parents, and you waved them goodbye as you stumbled to the front door, your heels insanely uncomfortable and the red wine in your stomach weighing down on you; you just wanted to get out of this dress and into a pair of pajamas and pass out on his couch in the living room. 

That’s sort of exactly what you did - you half-assed taking your makeup off, wiping down your face a couple of times, deciding that was enough before changing into some worn pajamas and plopping down on the couch next to Dream who already claimed his place and sunk into the cushion while a random movie played on the TV. The two of you basked in the comfortable silence that surrounded you, the exhausted, tired type. You both appreciated the quiet and fell asleep sitting next to each other, wedding already forgotten.

That night, he went from Dream to Clay.

The departure was bittersweet. You left two days after that, your hug at the airport tight, warm, filled with a sugary sweet feeling you couldn’t quite place and sour acid that ate away at you because you didn’t want to leave in the slightest. His arms were warm, inviting, whispering for you to stay but you left anyway, waving him goodbye, setting off to home. 

It seemed like all your problems came and went with him, because a week later, at 3 in the morning while you were up editing a video, you got an all caps message on your Discord from Sapnap.

“YOU’RE DATING DREAM?”

You blinked at your computer screen, white letters blinding you in the dark, brain trying to keep up with why he even thought that. Within 10 seconds, another message, this time from Dream.

“so i told george and sapnap that we’re dating”

“don’t kill me pls” 

Yeah, you weren’t going to kill him, per se, but he definitely made your life a lot harder than it should be. You opened Discord, Premiere Pro and the unedited video abandoned, typing back to Clay quickly.

“WHY”

He responded immediately, as one panicked man does.

“they’ve been making fun of me for being single for ages now :(“

“we already did this fake dating thing before and it went perfectly fine”

“just play along for a month or so”

“pls”

You audibly sighed. And as if he could hear you, he started typing again.

“i’ll promote you on my channel more”

“just pls do it”

“you love me, right” 

Another sigh fell from your lips before you could stop it. Of course you did, because if you didn’t, there’s no way you would be playing into this. You typed back.

“fine”

He messaged back immediately.

“THANK YOU”

“LOVE YOU <333”

With a shake of your head, you mumbled “idiot” with the ghost of a smile flashing on your face, switching back to your video, opting to ignore Sapnap for a little bit. He could wait. 

Fake dating seemed pretty damn easy during the first week - you thought you were killing it by sending corny tweets and staged selfies so he could screenshot them and send them to the groupchat, giggling on call about how oblivious they are and how you’re fooling them so good, both of you opting to ignore the parts where they claimed they knew the two of you were gonna get together eventually. It was fun, lighthearted, and an excuse to flirt with someone you had nothing official with.

As much as all your problems came and went with Clay, though, they came and went with his friends as well, especially that hopeless man Clay called his best friend. 

Because yeah, of course Sapnap was the one to accidentally spill to the public that the two of you were “dating”.

George was streaming at what was apparently a normal time in the UK, not so much for Florida, and Clay was sleeping while you were watching his stream while making some food for yourself. It was going fine, a bit of a chill stream, and you leaned against the fridge as your oven preheated, tired eyes following his Minecraft skin. 

“Sophie, thank you for the dono! ‘Hey George, I love your videos, just wanted to ask if you were speedrunning with Dream today?’” he read out, and you could faintly hear Sapnap join the stream through your headphones. 

“No I’m not, Dream’s… I don’t know what Dream’s doing right now, actually. He’s not responding to me, though. Probably talking to his girlfriend still.” he continued, exaggerating the last part mockingly, still playing into the whiny role of being upset that Clay was ditching the two of them for you. That majorly woke you up, though, as you stood straight on your feet immediately, because oh no, nobody was supposed to know.

You exited out of the Twitch app quickly, letting the stream play in the background as you tried to fish for Sapnap’s profile on Discord and text him as quick as possible, trying to warn him to not let anybody know, but before you could do it, you heard his laughter clear in the stream.

“Yeah, Y/N, his sweetie poo.” Sapnap said, causing George to laugh even louder, before moving onto the next topic, and your heartbeat picked up an insane amount, nails loud and probably damaging your phone screen as you typed as quickly as humanly possible to yell at him because this was not planned, at all.

You heard him go quiet after you shot him a couple of messages over Discord (“SAPNAP” “ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID” “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU” “NOBODY KNOWS YET” “IM GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU”), type something to George who then fell quiet as well for a few seconds, pure horror on his face, and then went back to streaming as if nothing happened while Sapnap profusely apologised to you on his and George’s behalf.

No apology could fix what had already been done, though, and you were left alone with the warzone that was Twitter who had already speculated the two of you were dating long before while Clay peacefully slept somewhere in his house at 4 am in Florida. You bombarded him with messages and waited until he woke up ‘cause what were you even supposed to do?! 

You chose to spend your time finishing the pizza you were originally supposed to make and almost burnt your whole apartment down because you forgot the oven was on for a whole hour while yelling at Clay’s idiotic best friends. You yelled at Sapnap, who kept apologising to you, you yelled at George, who yelled back that it’s not that big of a deal because people were bound to find out anyways, and you yelled at Clay, because he was the guilty one somehow for not being awake during your breakdown. 

He did eventually wake up though, to the shitshow that were his notifications with at least thirty messages from each of you, messages from his other YouTube friends who were fairly surprised, and his entire fanbase going ham on Twitter. He was surprisingly calm about it - calmer than you were, anyways, and sheepishly said over the phone that the fake dating thing may have to go on for a little longer since you couldn’t just date for a month and then break up, and you were sort of okay with that.

And of course, the business side of him awoke at that moment, and he giddily told you about the amount of views the two of you could pull if you did the same shit you do with George and Sapnap anyway, but on livestream. 

You rolled your eyes.

And then agreed anyway. 

And so, the charade began.

His Twitter statement was up shortly, telling the people that you’d been dating for a couple of weeks and weren’t planning to tell anybody yet until a certain someone spilled their guts live, and the fact Dream was dating someone, let alone another popular streamer, took the internet by storm. You expected hate, and you got quite a bit of that, but the people that had shipped the two of you before were certainly more than delighted and a lot of Clay’s fans were supportive. 

Now, both of you had excuses to do chill streams together and just hang out and you took the opportunity and ran with it. 

You’d sit and play Geoguessr or just try and speedrun Minecraft a bunch of times for hours on end, doing stupid bits and things you’d be doing offline anyways, with a little more flirting than usual, because that’s what made it interesting.

“Oh this is France, for sure.” you claimed one night, two or three weeks after the secret was officially out, chewing on the fries you bought for this specific occasion, streaming on his alt to a few thousand people. 

“You think so? It could be Belgium, too.” he responded, humming in thought as he looked around.

“I know so.” you responded.

“How?” 

“I just do. Gamer intuition, babe.” you said, and he wheezed at your response, repeating the words gamer intuition under his breath.

“No, seriously. It is France, I know it is, I’ve seen so many pictures of that place I know it like the back of my hand now. That’s Lyon, or something.” you continued, plopping another french fry into your mouth.

“You have? Why do you know so much about France, that’s so random.” he responded, opening the map and pointing to France, although he keeps looking around, unsure of his decision.

“I dunno, I like it there. I wish I could move there.” you replied.

“Why, though?” 

“It’s pretty and heavily romanticised! Just like me!” you joked and he laughed, before letting you continue. “I dunno, it’s the city of love. Be a little romantic.” 

“The… the city of love is whatever city the two of us are in.” he said, and it took a few seconds for you to process the joke before letting out a fake disappointed sigh.

“I can’t believe I’m dating someone as corny as you.” 

At that, he bursts into wheezes, and you follow along, enjoying the sound of his laughter coursing through your headphones more than you used to a few weeks back. It feels nice, feels right, acting like this. You like calling him your boyfriend more than you think you should. 

A few weeks go by, and it feels all too natural. It feels too natural, talking to him first thing in the morning when you’ve barely even had your coffee, calling him pet names, throwing sweet words at each other publicly like they mean nothing. It feels all too natural, and nice, and all too right, and you don’t even notice when the two of you cross the line between public and private, and you’re stuck making stupid jokes about making out when you first see each other when there’s nobody to witness them except the walls of your rooms, but you don’t like thinking about that, because you know it’ll bring nothing but confusion. The current this that the two of you have is perfect to you, perfectly lighthearted and funny and fun, and you intend on keeping it that way, refusing to think about it in any way past jokes.

That is, until you can’t anymore.

It’s late, again, and you’re staring at his contact name on your phone screen, lazily lying on the bed. It reminds you of a night from roughly 3 months ago, when your whole friendship seemed to change in the few seconds it took you to process what he’d asked of you, and it feels weird, but nice.

“My mom really likes you, you know?” Clay breaks the quiet that you’ve learned to appreciate in his presence, and you exhale through your nose, the noise just short of a chuckle.

“Yeah?” You laugh, and he does as well.

“Yeah.” He reaffirms. “She thinks you’re a great girlfriend. Apparently I seem brighter ever since we got together.”

You laugh again. “I am a great girlfriend, to be fair. She’s totally right.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t know that. If you’re as good of a girlfriend as you pretend to be, though, then you’re amazing.” He says, and words fly out of your mouth before you can stop them. 

“Yeah? You wanna find out?” The flirty nature is nothing strange to the two of you, but this time it feels kinda different, it feels like you’re stepping into dangerous territory that there’s no coming back from. You feel like you’ve ruined everything, for some reason.

He laughs, like normal, though. He laughs like nothing happened at all, and you’re so, so grateful for that.

“Sure, let’s do it. You’re about to unpack the full Clay boyfriend experience.” He snickers and you laugh as well. 

“That means I just unlock the dick as well as the personality.” you respond, quick as always, and the wheeze that escapes him is so loud that it makes you laugh too.

“...Unlock the dick…” he repeats through another wheeze and you nod, laughing.

“Yeah! I mean I’m literally experiencing the boyfriend experience without actually having a boyfriend, it’s fuckin’ great.” you say and he hums.

“You could have one, though.” 

The implications are crazy, his words are crazy, he’s crazy and everything that he could mean and couldn’t mean by that is driving you crazy too, brain faltering and heart seeming way too big for your chest to contain it. It’s silent.

“I could, I guess.” 

You choose to say, and he switches the topic naturally, like he never said anything.

Things are never the same again.

It’s not in a bad way. Sure, it is kind of a bad way for the feelings you’re trying to push down inside you, a bad way for hot nights when the unbearable heat forces you to stay up even when you don’t want to and you have no choice but to think about why you feel the way you feel as you melt into the burning sheets below you, a bad way for when he jokes about finding somebody else and you feel your stomach churning. A bad way for realising that this fake dating thing is really getting to you, but not a bad way in general.

Maybe it’s in a good way. Maybe the underlying implications whenever he makes jokes about making the relationship real are good, maybe the way he calls you in the middle of the night when he’s anxious and freaking out and defends himself by saying: “You’re my girlfriend, you’re always there for me, I just figured I could call you.” and you end up wondering if it’s possible to say jokes in such a vulnerable state or if he’s serious is good, maybe the way it’s been a few months and he won’t tell his own best friends that it was a joke the whole time is good, maybe the way you confronted him about it and he said he likes having you as his girlfriend is good. 

Maybe the way the two of you are always walking the line between joking and being serious, between being friends and something more, between lies and pranks and emotional investment and fear of committing, and the way you’re always trying to push the other off, is good. 

The fans love it. The fanart is incredible (serves especially well for those hot nights when you can’t fall asleep and you scroll, watching yourself fall in love with Clay in every universe, tales told by people who observe your story and find it worthy enough to retell in their own words, to take the love you pretend to have and turn it into something real), people love to gush over the compliments he sprinkles in at random times during conversation and the general flirty dynamic is loved by many, pulling in more views and attraction for you. 

And you suppose that’s good too, but at some point, the good warps into bad, bad warps into terrible, and you wonder if this is all even worth the sleepless nights, wondering if he feels the same way.

Those thoughts haunt you more and more often every day. When you wake up, and text him first thing in the morning, your brain acknowledges that the camera is off - nobody’s around, people aren’t listening, so why are you still playing the role of a girlfriend and starting up a conversation with him when you haven’t even brushed your teeth properly? When you’re editing in the middle of the day and he calls to keep you company, making more stupid boyfriend jokes, your stomach flips in a weird way that makes you hate him, hate the way he can joke about these things so freely, like it doesn’t hurt him. Like it doesn’t affect him like it affects you. 

But, as much as you wish you could hate him, you couldn’t bring yourself to, and that was the worst part. Because, in reality, whenever he laughed you’d smile without realising you did, whenever anything exciting happened to you he was the first one you went to, whenever you wanted to laugh or cry or sit in silence for hours or complain you always went to him, the one person who you know would listen. In reality, whenever he made a joke about giving up on the fake dating and making it real, you wished so bad that he was serious this time, that this was what it took and he’d crack and all of your suffering would end.

It eventually happens.

It’s a pretty chilly morning, birds chirp outside and the sun that slowly rises is covering the kitchen floor in a golden hue as you pour milk into your cereal with one hand and hold your phone in the other, letting Clay ramble about whatever it was this time, when he brought it up.

“So, when do you wanna come down to Florida again?” he asks casually, and you almost drop the gallon of milk in your hand. 

“What?” 

“I said, when are you coming down to Florida again? Last time you came was pretty fun.” he says, and an empty silence follows. There’s an unsaid “I miss you” that you don’t hear, and he’s too afraid of saying it. 

“Florida wasn’t exactly on my schedule this month, man.” you say, placing your phone on the counter for a second. Clay sure knew how to surprise a person.

“Well put it down, then.” he jokes, and you hum.

“What, you got another wedding coming up?” you giggle and he groans - you never really stopped making fun of him for that wedding.

“No, I don’t. Can’t a man just miss seeing his beloved girlfriend?” It’s unbelievable how quickly dread can wash over you as soon as he makes one of those jokes. You were convinced the mix of anxiety and butterflies that appears in your stomach was gonna kill you sometime soon.

“He can, he’s just being weirdly insistent.” you argue nonetheless. “But sure, I’ll consider it.”

You do more than consider it - in a few weeks, you’re back at the airport, and falling into his arms has never given you such an adrenaline rush in your whole life. Something about having him wrapped around you, close to you, the warmth of his body radiating into yours sent you spiraling, head clouded with nothing but love and the fact that you wish you could stay there forever. You wished you could press pause and cherish the moment, let yourself bask in that feeling of pure love, pure adoration that you helplessly drowned in. But you couldn’t, and you left his arms feeling oddly empty. 

Hiding the fact that you were unapologetically head over heels for him proved to be a hundred times more difficult when you were right there, next to him, talking to him, when you could just kiss him any second, feel his lips on yours and nobody would stop you - the opportunity was right there, looming over you, the devil on your shoulder taunting you, telling you to do it. 

You got to wake up in the same house as him, watch his hair stick out in different directions and his raspy morning voice as he complained about the smell of your coffee, watch his eyes glint whenever he talked about something he liked and observe as he carried around Patches like a little baby. You got to experience every bit of domestic without the consequences of committing, and you wondered just how far this would go. For how much longer would the two of you blatantly ignore the fact that you were a couple that slapped the title “fake” on it because you were cowards who refused to admit what this truly was. 

Not for long, apparently, because you grew tired, and decided to put an end to everything on one random Thursday night - and if he hated you forever for it, then so be it. 

You were sitting on his couch, watching a random movie together, drowning in one of his Dream hoodies while you chewed the popcorn he made. It was dark outside, just past midnight, and you could see the branches of a tree swaying calmly through one of the nearby windows - the silence while he scrolled through his phone lazily was comforting too, everything was lazy and serene and it would’ve been perfect if it wasn’t for the constant anxiety that gripped you by the throat whenever you were in his close proximity, the nervousness that killed you, the upset feeling of wanting to cuddle up with him but knowing you can’t because you guys are just friends, and nothing more.

The couple on the screen kiss while a violin plays in the background - how fitting. Maybe that’s what pushes you to the edge, or maybe you were just that sick and tired.

You were exhausted, beyond exhausted. Your eyes were tired, the anxiety was morphing into annoyance and anger and you were ready to give up on it all. If this ended the friendship, at least you two had a good run. Your heart couldn’t take it anymore.

“You know, you still owe me a favor in return for pretending to be your girlfriend.” you say, and you sound gone, zoned out, more than you wish you were. You hear his phone turn off with a click.

“Yeah? What do you want?” Clay asks, and you blankly stare at the TV for a few seconds before turning to face him, eyes burning. 

“Kiss me.” 

It’s silent. The characters on screen are arguing. You hear the wind through one of his open windows.

“What?” he asks, voice cracking, and his expression falls. You’ve fucked it. Oh well.

“I want you to kiss me. Kiss me like you mean it. Kiss me like someone’s watching and you wanna make it believable.” you say, eyes boring into his, your words having nowhere near as much of an effect on yourself as they do on him. Your eyes sting like they’re being lit on fire, and your throat is sort of closing up, but it’s fine. “Let me have this before I go, because once I leave, I don’t wanna do this anymore, Clay. I can’t pretend like I don’t want you to introduce me as your girlfriend and fully mean it. I can’t lie to your face anymore.” 

Silence. Deafening silence, once again.

“I love you.” he blurts out, and you don’t even register it at first. “I don’t want this shit to be fake either. God, I really don’t. It hasn’t been fake for a while now, at least not on my part. I’m sorry, it’s just- it was easier to keep this bit going than it was to actually admit that I’m… into you.”

And once again, the room falls into silence, much like it always does whenever the two of you share moments like these.

And then, you burst into laughter.

“So… so you mean to tell me, that both of us have liked each other this whooooole fucking time, and just refused to admit it and ‘pretended to date’ instead?” you burst into giggles, and he looks sort of hesitant to laugh, but he does anyway.

“I mean… yeah? I was waiting for you to call me out for doing all that when nobody was watching! Why did you never call me out?! Don’t blame me, I made it so damn obvious that I wanted you!” he protests, and you almost can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“Excuse me? You should’ve just fucking told me instead of making a million and one jokes about how I’m your girlfriend! We’re not in middle school, Clay!” you argue.

“Yeah, but I thought you’d catch on and talk to me about it at some point! You never called me out for anything!”

“So what, I’m supposed to just read your mind now? You’re fucking unbelievable.” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest and turning away in annoyance. As soon as a warm hand lands on your shoulder, though, the annoyance melts like wax under fire, leaving nothing behind.

“I still haven’t returned that favor, you know?” he whispers in your ear, breath fanning your neck, closer than he should be. The hairs on your neck stand up as you turn back to Clay, who wore a mischievous grin and a glint in his eyes that suggested no good. 

You suppose bad can be good, sometimes. 

As his lips press onto yours, that theory is proven true, because he sends a flicker of fire burning down your spine, spreading into your limbs, making your fingertips electric as you pulled him in closer, hand snaking up to grip at his hair - the everlasting grin against your own proves, once again, to be no good as his hands slip under your hoodie and grip your sides, but you think you enjoy this sort of bad. 

They sneak up further, and you hear him chuckle into the kiss as your insides melt at his touch. The two of you silently agree that maybe he should ask for favors more often.

[letarasstuff]

Hug it out!

(A/N): This was requested by an anon and I swear, if this flops I'll cry, because this is THE cutest fluff I came up with in a while

Summary: Some days are good, some days are rough with two toddlers. This is a rough day for Spencer.

Warnings: Except for tooth rotting fluff, the smallest bit of self doubt as a father

Wordcount: 1.2k

✨Masterlist✨ ____________________________

It’s one of those days. Days, where Spencer is reminded how difficult it is being a single father to a pair of toddlers. From the moment they wake up, which is several hours before their regular time, Spencer knows he is in for it today.

“Ok, who wants juice?” He asks with an enthusiastic voice, trying to lift the mood. His youngest, two year old (Y/N), woke up due to a nightmare and came into his room at four in the morning to make her father cuddle the bad monsters away (her words, not his). Unfortunately she takes after her father regarding her clumsiness. While trying to close the door to Spencer’s bedroom quietly, she lost her balance and smashed it shut. That’s how he ended up with two children in his bed, cuddling close to him and still complaining about the closeness.

The grumpy kids light up a bit at the suggestion of the fruity liquid. “I wan da blu ‘up!” (Y/N) exclaimed. And there does the father see the next quarrel between the siblings incoming. “No! I always use the blue cup!” Her brother, who is three years her senior, argues. He is pretty possessive of his things, which is understandable given the fact that for the majority of his life he didn't have to share his things..

Spencer lets them exchange a few arguments about who should get the cup. Seeing that they are not able to solve this problem on their own (maybe because they are tired children or because the arguments presented by both sides are not that convincing), he decides to intervene.

“Why don’t you share the cup? This way both of you can have it and take a sip from it”, he suggests. But his idea meets his own germaphobia. “Don’ wan’ sha’e. Brother can hav’, I don’ wan’ his germ”, (Y/N) says defeatedly with a sad expression. Spencer can’t take offense in her answer, knowing he would react the same way. “Don’t you want your sippy cup anyway? With that you can also play later without worrying about spilling something”, he asks her in a gentle voice. This is met with a small nod and a tired yawn.

With breakfast and getting ready for the day out of the way, Spencer lets the two of them watch a bit of TV while he mingles around the household for a bit. It’s a free Saturday and all of his prayers wish that it stays that way, especially now, knowing that this day won’t be easy for their babysitter. Sometimes siblings just don’t get along.

“NO! No blanket fo’t!”, he hears (Y/N) shout. The father puts his son’s shirt that he was folding down and goes over to the living room. There he sees his children fighting over the big lavendel blanket that always lays on the couch. “Hey, what is this about?” He asks in a firm yet mild voice. A big part of his parenting is that raised voices only will lead to more raised voices and not quiet.

“I want to build a blanket fort with her, but (Y/N) is just too stubborn and wants to take a nap on the couch with the blanket. Dad, can you tell her that a blanket fort is way cooler than just sleeping please”, the older one complains, pointing to his sister.

Trying to think quickly on his feet for a solution, because a fighting pair of kids is more frightening than staring down eye to eye with an UnSub, Spencer stalls some time by taking the blanket and folding it.

“You have to understand Buddy that your sister still is pretty small and she needs to take naps throughout the day, because her small body doesn’t have enough energy for the whole day. And (Y/N) had a really bad night, so a nap would not be wrong. Maybe we can build a fort together and you two can watch a movie in it and lay down for a bit?” Making it not sound like he should take a nap too, even though this is Spencer’s intention, does the trick. A little bit later the siblings lay on pillows under blankets with blankets above them watching their favorite movie. They surprisingly quickly decided on a movie and saved their father another lecture.

This gives Spencer time to prepare lunch while finishing laundry and other important tasks in the household. As the food is cooking and everything else is done, he sits down with a book in his hand. A content sigh leaves his lips. Finally some peac-

“(Y/N)! THAT IS MY PART OF THE BLANKET!” “NO! I need blane’t too!” “You can’t even say blanket, because you are a baby. Go to sleep baby, I wanna watch the movie!” Quickly the father is back on his feet and strides towards the living room. Once again his children fight over that one blanket.

“Enough is enough, I need you two to come out there”, he says in a firm voice. Slowly both of them crawl out from the fort, looking somber. “I’ll ask each of you to tell me their side of the story, if you want, you can describe to me what happened. After that I want you to apologize to each other and hug it out, understood?” The children nod.

“Ok, does anyone want to explain something to me?” (Y/N) immediately shakes her head. “No, no ‘plaining, no ‘plaining. I good, I vewy good nowww.” Hearing her father talking in such a deep and serious tone is something she only witnessed a couple of times, that’s why she knows that listening now is important.

“And your brother?” He also shakes his head, knowing that nothing he has to say is worth the fuss he made. “Alright. I want you two to hug it out, because even though sometimes you both fight, you have to remember how much you love each other. Do you understand me?”

They nod again. “Sissy, come here. I didn’t want to call you a baby, you are my cute little sister.” The young boy carefully puts his arms around his sibling and gives her a kiss on her head. “I sowwy too, I lub you, bwotha”, she tells him and returns the hug.

Spencer watches the scene unfolding in front of him with an exploding heart. Parenting usually means doing things without seeing an immediate effect. It’s like stirring a boat blind, not knowing if he goes in the right direction or is close to hitting a rock and smashing the whole boat. But moments like these, especially on off days like today, show him that not every decision he made was wrong.

Later the small family lays together under the blanket fort, the father with a child in each arm, one sleeping and the other one talking about the movie they are watching and Spencer doesn’t want to change a single thing in the world.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos @jswessie187 @kneelforloki

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962 @ellyhotchner

Spencer Reid x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

[sunnyville36]

Put it on me

Requested from anon

Pairing: Lee Felix x fem reader

Themes/warnings: idol!verse Felix, light angst/argument, make-up sex, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (stay safe out there folks!), slightly rough sex

Word count: 1.6k

As always, happy to hear your thoughts, and thank you for reading!

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You’re staring at the half eaten meal on your plate when you hear the door open.

You and Felix have barely had 2 seconds to spend with each other the past few weeks with Stray Kids working on their upcoming comeback, so you thought you would surprise him by making your signature chicken carbonara that he’s been dying to try.  You had texted him earlier to tell him your plans and he had sounded super excited.  He mentioned dance practice might run long, but told you he would come straight over to your place when it ended to spend some time with you.  So you put his portion in the oven to keep it warm and waited for a text saying he was on his way, but it had been over 3 hours since their practice should have ended and you hadn’t heard anything from him.

Your boyfriend comes around the corner into the kitchen, and you can immediately tell he’s not in a good mood, but you hope some food might lift his spirits.

“Hey Lixie,” you say, standing up and crossing the short space to give him a quick hug.

He wraps his arms loosely around you, trying to keep his sweat-stained tank top from ruining your shirt.  “Hi Y/n.”

“How was practice?”

“Fucking exhausting,” he sighs, plopping down in a seat at the table and letting his head fall into his hands.

“I can only imagine,” you respond, making your way over to the oven.  “Maybe something to eat will make you feel better?”

“Oh, I-I’m not hungry, baby.”

You turn back to him, see his head is still in his hands.  He’s trying too hard not to interact with you, and you feel like something’s up.

“After that insanely long practice?  You must be.”

“I uh… I ate with the boys.”

You feel a knot twist in your stomach, but try not to jump to conclusions.  “Lix, dinner must have been hours ago by now; come on you should eat something, I kept your pasta in the oven - “

“I just came from eating,” he interrupts, looking anywhere but the spot where you’re standing with one hand on the oven door.

“You what?” you ask, voice quiet.

“After practice ended, we all went up the street to that 24-hour ramen place.”

His head is bowed, eyes looking at his lap, and you can tell he’s feeling guilty.  And you know it’s petty, and you should really just brush it off and move on, but you find yourself feeling more hurt than you thought you would.

“But I… we said we were going to spend some time together tonight, and I made this special just for you…” you trail off, trying hard to stem the tiny drops of tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

“I know but - look, the members were at each other’s throats all night and it was such a tough session and I didn’t wanna just bail on them when Chan suggested we all grab food to sort it out - “

“So you decided to bail on me instead?” you scoff, anger rising in your chest.

“No, it wasn’t like that, I’m still here aren’t I?”

“You could have at least texted me about the change of plans.  I’ve been waiting here for hours thinking you’d walk in the door any minute when you might not have even shown up at all!”

“Well I’m sorry my life doesn’t revolve around how you spend your time sitting around!” he snaps back, throwing up his hands in an annoyed shrug.

“Right.  Because all I do with my time is sit around pining after you.  You know, this was one of the only free times for me too, and now it’s wasted.”

The air is tense between the two of you.  You’re rapidly moving towards a full blown fight, and this is far from how you wanted your evening to go.

“So I’ll just go then, if your precious plans are ruined,” Felix mumbles, standing to grab his jacket from the hook by the door.

In all honesty, it’d be better if you let him leave, give the both of you time to cool down.  But you’re too upset to think rationally, and all you can see is him not even caring enough to stay despite your disagreement.

“So you’d rather walk away than talk about this?”

He turns back, fists balling at his sides.  “We’re not talking, you’re just yelling at me, and I didn’t even do anything!”

“It’s not what you do; it’s what you don’t do.  You never even want to spend time with me anymore!  I feel like you only want me around when it’s convenient for you!” you shout, voice wavering.

Something shifts in his eyes then, as he stares at you from across the room.  He looks hurt, offended almost, more angry about what you just said than at any previous point in your argument.

“That’s not true.”

“Really?” you press, enthralled by his aura, his usual lighthearted demeanor being replaced with one oozing with dominance.  With desire.

“Of course I want to be with you.  Always,” he says, voice low.  Assertive.  Sexy.

“Then prove it.”

He’s on you in a matter of seconds, hands grabbing your face and lips crashing against yours.  Your own hands find themselves on either side of his slim waist, still sticky from sweat and exertion.  He pushes you up against the counter, melding your bodies impossibly closer as his tongue slips into your mouth.  The kiss is messy, filthy, nothing like the two of you normally do during your lazy makeout sessions.  His leg is slotted between both of yours, and the tensing of his thigh against your core as he moves to lean over you makes you heady with want.

Suddenly, you’re turned around in his hold, your back flush to his front, hiding nothing from you as you feel the hardness in his pants growing against your ass.  He’s frenzied, his normally delicate touches replaced with rough grabs, one hand sliding up to cup your breast, the other dipping below the hem of your skirt to run along the damp folds of your panties.  He brings his lips to your ear, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

“Want me to show you what I never get tired of tasting?”

“Mmhmm,” you whimper, letting him half-drag, half-carry you over to the living room and ease you onto the couch, the first gentle touch from him since this whole thing began.  That turns out to be short lived, as the next thing you know he’s on his knees in front of you, flinging your legs apart and waiting for your almost imperceptible nod before moving your panties to the side and bringing his mouth to you.

He devours your pussy, licking up and down your center and sucking on your clit.  You moan his name, and you can feel him smile against you as he focuses his tongue on teasing your clit with little kitten licks while ramming two of his fingers inside you.  Normally it takes you begging to get him to be this rough with you, but something about your fight must have got him really riled up, and you weren’t about to complain.

After bringing you to the brink of your high a few times but never quite enough to send you over, he lifts his head from between your legs, mouth dripping with your essence, and moves behind you on the couch, gently positioning you on your hands and knees.  He leans his whole body over yours, again whispering his question in your ear.

“Can I fuck you like this?”

You rarely do it from behind, but every time you have you’ve loved it, so you nod your head eagerly, letting out a breathy “yes.”

He’s ready as soon as you say so, pushing into you with such force you jolt forward slightly, your laughter-tinged gasp giving him a sign of just how much you enjoy it.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you, kitten?” he purrs, lifting you up off your arms so your torso rests on his chest.

“Yes… fuck... Felix, please more.”

He draws out then pushes back in, picking up the pace each time.  Soon he’s pounding into you, his left arm supporting your hip and his right arm wrapped loosely around your neck as you lean against him.  The way his cock is angled is causing him to hit you perfectly each time, and you’re moaning his name again as you feel his quick hot breaths next to your ear.

“You promise to never doubt how much I want you?” he growls out, voice strained from the effort not to release just yet.

“Yes, yes, Felix I promise, please let me cum, please.”

“Let go for me baby.”

You reach your peak at the same time, his groan in sync with your high pitched scream.

When you’re both aware enough to speak again, Felix pulls you down to sit between his legs, leaning you against his chest.

“You were right,” he starts, voice sincere, “about - about earlier.  I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was all that time and I’m sorry for leaving you alone when I promised we’d spend the evening together.”

You look up at him, wanting to apologize as well.  “I’m sorry about what I said.  I know you’re not intentionally neglecting me.  I’ve just been upset recently that we don’t have a lot of time together anymore.  But I should have told you that earlier; I shouldn’t have brought that up in an argument.”

“So we’re even then?” he asks, a mischievous glint in his eye.

You give him a playful punch to the chest, smiling.  “Yeah, we’re even.”

“Then I think it’s time for round two.”

[afriendlyblackhottie]

hii, i love your writing so much and the black!reader content u provide us cause god knows we need more of them.

i wanted ro ask u if u could do a story where chris meets the reader at some celebrity party and they become really close and they start to fall for eachother. Chris asks her to be his gf but then she becomes distant and they end up getting in an argument and she reveals that she cant date him because shes a stripper and people will probably talk shit about her work being with a celebrity as known as him.

thank u in advanced i love your stories💕

Honey

Summary: After telling Chris the truth, he wants to make things right.

Parings: Chris Evans x black!reader

Warnings: smut, strip club, lap dance, pole dancing, girl on top, fingering, swearing, daddy kink

(A/N: this has taken me for fucking ever and I have no clue why. I struggled, but it’s finally done. I’m so sorry Anon for how long it took. I also couldn’t settle on one single song because you all suggested such good ones so I left it ambiguous.)

Tagging: @titty-teetee @blackmissfrizzle @olyvoyl @liquorlaughslove @harrysthiccthighss @mariahthelioness29 @whiskey-cokenfanfic @olyvoyl @hqneyyincc @queenoftheworldisdead @iam-laiya @donutloverxo @slytherinandoutasgard @zaddychris @brattycherubwrites @love-more122 @ljstraightnochaser (wouldn’t let me tag you)

——————————————————————————-

Chris still couldn’t believe that you’d think he’d care. As if whatever anyone had to say about you would make him want to be with you any less. He doesn’t even know why he let you walk away that night. Or why he let you cry as you finally told him.

Since then he’d been going over everything that happened in his head. The way your eyes welled up as you finally told him the truth. The shock that ran through him because even though he knew how nasty you could be, you still kept up the facade of a sweet innocent girl so well. Which is what drove him crazy about you in the first place.

Except you’d taken that as rejection and he was too late to convince you otherwise. It didn’t stop him from constantly thinking that there was more that he could have done. Hopefully he wasn’t too late.

When you met at that party he was enchanted by you. By your voice. The way you wore your hair. Your beautiful smile. Like he’d met an angel in the flesh. He took you home that night where he couldn’t even wait until he was inside to fuck you, instead bending you over the hood of his car so he could give it to you right then and there.

Between all the fucking and pillow talk, he’d fallen for you. Somehow you’d become his first thought when he woke up and the last one before he fell asleep. He’d fallen for you quick and fast and was tired of the two of you just being fuck buddies. He’d thought you’d felt the same.

It didn’t matter because the truth had come out and you hadn’t talked to him since. He’d thought about texting you, but as corny as it was he needed to do something bigger. So that’s why he was in the audience watching you work that pole. As much as he hated that other men got to ogle you he was more focused on how beautiful you looked up there.

He chuckled because you would choose such a glittery outfit to do this in. Your makeup was all done up all bright and flashy in a way you didn’t usually care for. Your wig was this pastel pink. He was trying to ignore his anxiety telling him that everything could go wrong. Maybe it would, but he at least wanted to try.

“Is it possible to get a private dance from her?” He’d asked one of the bouncers, trying to use his Boston accent so it might not be as noticeable who he was.

“Who?” He asked making this face. “Honey? She doesn’t do lap dances. Something about a boyfriend.”

His heart sunk a little, but he had to do this. “What about for a little extra.” He flashed the money he had in his pocket.

He thought for a minute, before shrugging. “Go wait in room four.”

It took about ten minutes for you to walk in with a silk robe on. Still wearing that wig. He knew that look on your face. The one when you had an attitude. Suddenly he was thinking about that night you got a little snippy with him. He fucked it out of you by pinning you down and showing you who owned that pussy.

Fuck he needed you back.

“Look, I do-“ you stopped when you saw it was him. “Chris, what’re you- what’re you doing here?” You stuttered, your eyes widening.

He took a breath, shrugging his shoulders. “I wanted to talk.”

“You could have just called me,” you said.

“Yeah but I wanted to see you. I’ve missed you, Y/N,” he said.

You crossed your arms and looked down at your feet. Trying to stop yourself from smiling. You hated how he turned you into a pile of goo. Especially when he was trying to be mad at you. “How’d you find me?”

“I have my ways,” he replied, standing up. He pulled you into his arms hugging you tightly because he didn’t care if you had an attitude.

As much as you hated to, you pulled away from him. It didn’t matter that you wanted to melt into his arm. “You can’t just come to my job, Chris.”

He sighed because although he was expecting that reaction, he was hoping it wouldn’t happen. His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. “I know. I just... if I had called would you have answered?” He asked. “Because I’ve been trying to call you. Fuck, what do you want me to do, Y/N.”

You shrugged. “I don’t know! I just... look I’m scared, okay. Scared of what people might say if they see us together.”

“I don’t care what people have to say.”

“Because you won’t be the one dealing with it!” You suddenly started to feel all teary eyed. You bit your lip as they started to come down your face. “I’m going to be the one getting comments all over social media about what a slut I am. Or about what an awful person I am. Or how I don’t deserve you because you’re fucking perfect.”

He sighed. “And I’ll be there to support you through all of it. Baby, I would never let anyone hurt you. Or disrespect you.”

“It doesn’t matter. They still will.”

“Hey,” he said, hugging you again not caring as you tried to push him away. Instead this time he held you cradling you in his arms because if you were crying he was going to hold you. “Tell me you don’t want to be with me.”

“It’s not that, Chris, I’m just scared.” You finally gave in. Clinging to him. What was the point of fighting when you just wanted him more than anything anyway.

“Hey, Buddy,” the club owners voice broke through your moment, making you feel like you were going to jump out of your skin, “no touching the dancers.”

Chris retracted his arms. “Sorry. I slipped and he caught me,” you lied. “He was just making sure I was okay.”

Of course he didn’t believe that. Looking at you through narrowed eyes. “Someone heard yelling in the next room. Sounded like someone was upset.”

“No I’m fine. We were just talking,” you said hoping that it didn’t show that you’d been crying. “I promise.”

“Fine, but keep your hands to yourself in my club, Pal.”

As soon as he left Chris sat down, pulling you into his lap. “So what do we do. Ball is in your court,” he said.

“I wanna be with you. I’m just... scared.”

He sighed. “Okay, well we don’t have to tell anyone right away. I just know that I’m crazy for you, Y/N.”

You smiled. “Really?”

“Mhm.” He kissed the side of your head. “Totally and completely crazy.”

You put your head on his shoulder. “I missed you, too,” you confessed.

“Yeah? What about this boyfriend I heard about?”

You tilted your head. “Boyfriend?”

“Yeah. The bouncer said you had a boyfriend so you didn’t give lapdances.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “That’s just what we tell them when we’re not in the mood.” He laughed kissing your forehead. “Or maybe I do have a boyfriend?”

“You want me to be your boyfriend?” He bit his lip. His heart was racing fast then.

“Maybe.” You smiled trying to play it off all I’m

“Maybe, but... I’m...” you pulled away from him only to cross your arms all self consciously again.

“Talk to me, Honey.”

You rolled your eyes. “You think you’re so funny.”

He chuckled. “I like it.” He grabbed your hand so you could sit with him. Making you perch on his lap. “Talk to me.” He pushed a piece of the pink wig out of your face.

“I’m still scared.”

“And, I’ll be there to beat up anyone who wants to talk shit.” Chris held you as close as he could needing to feel you against him. “So, do you like stripping?”

You shrugged. “It’s fun and it pays the bills.”

“Do you want to keep doing it?” He asked.

“I mean... maybe,” you replied. Sort of afraid to say the wrong thing. It’s not that you think Chris wasn’t pro sex work, but that didn’t mean he had to be okay with his girlfriend doing it.

“Baby, if you’re worried about money, I don’t mind helping out.”

“I know,” you said.

“And if this is something you want to do, I’m okay with that, too. I don’t care what anyone says.”

You smiled before kissing him. That had been all you needed to hear from him. Not that it would fix everything, but right now it was enough.

“Promise?”

“I swear on Dodger. So you know that means it’s pretty serious,” he replied. You chuckled and he kissed your lips this time. Craving you after spending way to long not being able to touch you. You were still tearing up. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you sniffled forcing a smile on your face. “So, I never gave you that lap dance.”

He chuckled. “Oh yeah. Baby, you don’t-“

You cut him off, putting your hand against his mouth. “I know I said I don’t give them, but I’ll make an exception for you.” You licked your lips, giving him this look that he’d recognized when you were trying to take his dick.

He glanced at the door first making sure no one could see them. Yeah it was just a lap dance, but he couldn’t promise that he would keep his hands to himself. You got up before leaning down to peck his lips.

“You can touch me however you want.” You started undoing your robe showing off the little costume you were wearing underneath.

“Fuck,” he breathed as he looked you up and down. As you removed the fabric that was keeping him from being able to see your full body. You turned around slowly giving him an eyeful of all that ass. He reached out to touch it.

“You like?” You asked all breathily, sitting back down on his lap with your back pressed towards his chest. You gyrated your hips feeling him get hard under you. His bulge pressing into your barely covered center.

He groaned into your ear. “Oh, I fucking love it.” He wrapped his arms around your his so tight. Helping you move. Making you mold into him a little deeper.

You bent your arm back so it was resting on the back of his head. He grabbed at your tits kissing your neck. As he pinched your nipple you let out a moan you didn’t hold in quick enough.

You put your hands on his thighs so you could brace yourself. Moving your hips in a circle so you were right on his dick. “Holy fuck,” he panted. You were driving him so crazy. He had to touch you. Had to feel how wet you were just for him.

He dipped his fingers into your panties. You were so wet he knew you were probably making a mess on his jeans. He didn’t give a fuck. All he wanted was to make you cum. He missed you to much to care if your pussy made a mess on him.

You had to cover your mouth this time because he’d started rubbing your clit. All soppy and wet. Your hips faltered especially as he lifted up your leg so his other hand could finger your pussy.

“Oh, my god.” You cried into your hands before falling back against him again. You uncovered yourself so you could kiss him instead. Pressing a hungry kiss to his mouth.

It was too much. Him doing both at the same time. You were trying to hold your moans in, but it was hard which is why his kiss just got deeper. Your cunt felt like it was weeping from what he was doing to you. It was way too much.

You were so damn tight. Like he’d dipped his fingers in velvet. While he rubbed your clit. You couldn’t hold your noises in, making you pull him away from him. He stared at you with a smile on his face because you looked so pretty all desperate. “You wanna cum for me?” He asked into your ear. “Wanna cum for Daddy?”

You whimpered, but still nodded because he was right you were so damn close. Hips still angled so you could feel his bulge underneath you. You needed it inside of you so bad.

You grabbed at his cock through his jeans. Needing to feel it in your hands. “You want this, huh. I could take you home and fuck you like a proper girl, but you want me to dick you down at work like a slut,” he said whispered in your ear, taking the hand that was rubbing your clit away so he could stuff his fingers in your mouth.

You moaned around them. Tasting yourself. Moaning as he found your g-spot while he still fingered you. You cried out as he made you cum all over his hand. Eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“That’s it, Baby. Make a mess for me. I want everyone to know when I leave who makes you cum.” He moved to your clit now rubbing it just the way you liked it was driving you crazy.

When your orgasm finally subsided, you got up so you could turn around in his lap. Now that you were facing him he kissed you hard. Grabbing at your ass.

You moved your hips. Looking down at the wet spot you’d left on jeans. “Oh, Daddy,” you whimpered. “You feel so good.”

“That’s it, Honey.”

You chuckled. “You think you’re so fucking funny.”

He laughed reaching between you so he could finally start to undo his pants. “What it’s cute.”

When you finally got to sink down on his dick, you cried out. You felt so full. Like he’d filled you to the brim.

You tossed your head back with your eyes screwed shut as he lifted you up and down his dick. It felt so damn good. You needed it so badly. Needed him to fill you up with his cum.

“You look at me when I fuck you,” he demanded. Grabbing a fistful of pink hair so you were forced to look at him. You opened your eyes so they could meet his. Biting your lip to keep for being too loud again. “This is my pussy don’t you ever forget it.”

“Yes, Daddy. It’s yours,” you breathed trying to not be too loud. “I don’t let anyone else touch me like you do.”

“Yeah?” He asked. “That’s my good fucking girl.” He groaned.

“You’re gonna make me cum again,” you cried because he was so damn thick.

“Cum for me,” he said into your ear making you tingle.

You buried your head into his shoulder as you did. With your pussy walls gripping him like that you couldn’t stop yourself as you started to milk him. Triggering his own orgasm as he captured your lips in another kiss.

“You two, out!” Your bosses voices almost made you jump out of your skin.

“No I’m okay!” You said. “He, um...” you tried to think of a lie. “Because he paid so much I...”

“I’m not running a brothel here.” He glared at you. “You get your shit and get out of my club. Honey, you’re fired.”

He was waited for you outside. Leaning against his Camero. You’d changed back into your sweats. He smiled seeing your normal hair. That bright makeup wiped off. Sad because he was actually really enjoying see you all overly sexed up. “Guess you don’t have to worry about dating a stripper anymore.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said before kissing you.

“It’s okay,” you replied with a shrug.

“Why don’t you come live with me? You won’t have to worry about rent. Or anything.” He chuckled.

“You wanna be my sugar daddy?” You laughed.

“No. I mean sure, but I wanna be your boyfriend. Do things like protect you and take care of you. Is that okay?”

You looked up at him through your eyelashes. “You have to promise me something first,” you said.

“Anything,” he said, grabbing your hands so he could pull you to him.

“Just when the news hits over us, you’ll fight for me. Won’t let your crazy fans treat me to badly.”

He chuckled. “I will personally tell off every single one of them.” He wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head. “Want me to take you home?”

“Yeah I got picked up by one of the girls,” you said. “My place or yours?”

He chuckled. “Ours.” He smiled before kissing you softly.

[swiftiesimonriley]

jealous din djarin x f! reader ft. cobb vanth

thank you so much to the anon for the request!! just a warning there is some light nsfw content ahead:

ok so this takes place at the start of season 2

lets say you've been part of the “crew” of the razor crest for a few months, serving as both a medic and a translator - not that din can’t translate for himself - but it serves as an added bonus!

you had been invited to join the crew after din gets injured on the hunt for a bounty in a backwater cantina on the planet you lived on

before din could get the binders on the bail jumper, he was able to stab din in one of the only places not protected by his coveted beskar - sending the seasoned mandalorian to the floor with a deep wound in his inner thigh

you just happened to be getting a drink in the cantina that night after your shift at the local medcenter

you had heard from the village elders the stories of mandalorians - that they were cold, calculating and ruthless - but all of those old stories flew out of your head as you jumped over the bar counter to treat the beskar covered man bleeding out onto the floor

din can still hear how calm and soothing your voice was to him in that moment, how you respected his privacy by not asking his name but treating him even when the rest of the patrons in the cantina looked at him with such fear - if you were not here, he most certainly would have met his maker

after treating his wound you offered him lodging in your small apartment while he healed, opting to help watch his foundling when you got home for work

at the end of the week he was ready to go back to work, but he felt a heaviness in his heart leaving you behind here - that night over dinner asking if you would like to join him

flash forward to now, din lands the crest at peli’s hangar and the two of you walk out with the child, the warm tatooine sun more unforgiving that that of the planet you spent your entire life on - thanking the maker that din mentioned you might be more comfortable in a little something more lightweight

you hold the child close as din talks to peli, not missing her comment about “it being nice to see the mandalorian has found a mate” to which din awkwardly coughs and you just know he’s blushing under that helmet

while you and din haven’t explicitly discussed the nature of your relationship, you have started spending a lot more time in his small bunk (when the child is not in there)

din had managed to get pretty bruised up after a fight with a bounty, and when he needed to remove his flight suit so you could access his injuries, you couldn’t help but blush as his toned skin was right at your fingertips

that night you rode him in the bunk, his cool beskar helmet hidden in the crook of your neck as your moans echo throughout the cargo hold

ever since then, the two of you have been fucking

but alas he still is your boss and you two keep things professional outside of the ship

flash forward to the trip to mos pelgo, sitting behind the bounty hunter with your arms tightly around his trim waist, an old pair of peli’s goggles over your eyes so you can prefect your eyes, something din had insisted on

it’s when the speeder bike comes to a stop near the cantina that din insists you wait outside for him, telling you that he will be back after making sure it’s safe

you nod in agreement, knowing there’s no real reason to start an argument, even though you are capable of handling yourself, and watch as he enters the bar, instead opting to watch the child

you look down at dins pack and gasp, seeing the little menace has taking off running after his papa in the direction of the bar - taking off after him without even watching where you are going - finding yourself slamming into a wall of green beskar

the impact of landing on your back knocks the wind out of you, hearing a faint “cyar’ika!” from inside as the man before you turns and offers a hand

“you gotta be careful sweetheart,” the man says effortlessly, helping you to your feet, “there’s some people around these parts that might not be so nice to ya.”

a soft blush appears on your cheeks at the use of the pet name, watching as din stands up to meet the two of you, gently patting your shoulder and asking if you are alright before telling the man before you that he is the one you have been searching for - another mandalorian

you watch as the marshall makes his way to the bar and orders three shots of spotchka, something that sits weird in your stomach as there’s no way that you can just down three shots yourself

following the marshall to the small table, you watch as he offers the pair of you a shot, to which din declines as you would expect but something in you goes for it, taking the small glass and throwing back the strong liquid, grimacing a bit as the taste sets in

“at least i have someone to keep up with me,” the marshall teases, lifting his hands up to remove his helmet and your eyes go wide as he places it down likes its a normal thing to do, your hand going to grip at one of dins arms in shock

din is obviously shocked as well, his heartbeat picking up as your grip on his arm tightens, watching the almost coy smile plays at the lips of the man across the table

the two begin going back and forth, cobb confessing he bought the armor off of some jawas, and din demanding he take it off

“it’s not proper for me to remove my armor right here, especially in front of such a pretty young lady.”

din is seeing red

if the helmet & beskar situation wasn’t already setting him off, the flirty comments being directed your way were

it wasn’t like the two of you had put a label on things, but he wasn’t going to let this nerf herder hit on you like that - most people wouldn’t dare even thinking about trying something like that to you when he was around - but this man had never dealt with a real mandalorian before

din missed the way you rolled your eyes at the comment, to busy in his own thoughts as the marshall suggests a duel for the armor since it seemed so important to din, but the sudden rumbling noise and shaking of the room sends you into panic mode

immediately you grab the child and pull him to your chest as din practically does the same to you - tucking your head under his chin as the shaking continues - only to pull away slowly when the noise and movement slows to a stop

you look up at him wide eyed, a few pieces of stray hair framing your face as you tell him you are going to see if anyone is hurt and din swears in that moment he is in love with you, standing as you lean your forehead against his helmet, a keldabe kiss, to which you do not know the meaning of, and watching as you grab your bag and head out towards the streets where civilians assess the damage

“you gotta good girl there mando,” the marshall draws, “you better stake your claim before someone else takes her to be-“

before he can finish the sentence din wraps a hand around his throat, pinning him to the nearest wall

“i’ll help you kill the krait dragon and in return you give me the armor and leave my girl alone.”

the look on the marshalls face is enough for din, but he makes a mental note to show you that night you are his

taglist: @catchmeupimgettingoutofhere @salome-c @jasterslegacy @marydjarin @hnt-escape wanna be added? send me an ask!!

[maraudersftw]

This is weird. My dialogue is awful. I've been writing for over eight years now. I've barely improved. I feel demoralised every time I reread something of mine because it's just plain terrible. Like, there's no way anyone is actually ever going to say that. Let alone two super witty people, you just know would be great at bantering / flirting. I've asked people to beta, they're just too nice to actually tell me the very apparent issue with my dialogue. I'm not exaggerating. What should I do?

Hey, anon! First of all, I'm honoured that you thought of reaching out to me for this question even though I'm definitely still learning a lot of things about writing and what feels right to me myself. But I understand where you're coming from, and I'll do my best to help you out in whatever way I can. If any of my lovely writer mutuals have more to add, please feel free to do so!

1. Before I even start talking about anything else, it's important to remember that we're our own toughest critic, so it's possible (and quite likely) that your dialogues are not nearly as terrible as you think they are. When you've been writing and staring at the same words you've written multiple times, even the most interesting of dialogues can feel lame and try-hard to you. Whenever I write a fic and proofread through it before posting, 9/10 times I feel like it sounds boring or too dragged out. And it's because I already know what's going to happen, what the other person is going to say. Even if something is meant to be witty, I no longer find it to be so because I've written them. Return to your fics a year from now and you may feel differently.

2. Your betas are there to help you. I know it's difficult to broach that awkward boundary where you want them to be brutally honest about your writing vs wanting strangers on the internet to shower you with validation, but if you really, genuinely, want to improve your writing and make the maximum use of your betas, try talking to them about it. From what you've told me, they seem like very nice people, and if you tell them that they should just be as critical with your writing as they are with theirs, I think they'd understand. If they find that uncomfortable, that's fair. You can always ask someone else. I find that having different betas for different fics is always a good idea because you get to see how differing perspectives work.

3. Ask your betas to leave you comments when they're editing. It's easier to just pass on the doc and have them fix your typos and grammatical errors, but ask them how you can improve the dialogue and pacing as well! Tell them to leave some tips for you as they go over your work. This way, it doesn't have to be an one-on-one conversation (so neither of you feel awkward), and you can just return to the doc later and go through the suggestions slowly and imbibe them into your future works.

4. This might sound very simple, but it's important to remember when you're writing fic that these characters are normal humans who talk and behave like normal humans do. Sometimes, the whole flirting/bantering feel of the conversation just comes through from their actions and not their words. For eg. instead of writing something like:

"Hey, Potter! Are you free this weekend?" asked Lily.

"Why? Wanna take me on a date, Evans?" He smirked.

"Maybe I do."

You bring the scene to life through the same words, but more actions. Like so:

"Hey, Potter!" Lily called, her fingers tentative as they fell on his arm. James turned around, one eyebrow cocked. "Are you free this weekend?"

He looked at her silently, a smirk pulling at his lips. "Why? Wanna take me on a date, Evans?"

Lily's eyes glittered with the thrill of a challenge, and she pressed a little closer. "Maybe I do."

5. Make sure that you let your characters talk and breathe like normal humans, too! Let them take those heavy pauses for tense scenes, let them break off in between sentences because they can't finish a thought right or they're laughing too hard or they've just suddenly remembered something that froze them on the spot. Let them fumble and sigh and repeat words like we do IRL conversations. If your character is having an argument, and they're red in the face, they're probably not gonna say: "Why not?"

They're much more likely to say: "Well, why the hell not?!"

You can throw in a couple of "um"s and "uh"s and "er"s for those unsure few milliseconds. Em dashes are your best friends here. Sometimes, even saying that they're pausing to think or breathe or collect themselves can help bring your dialogues to life.

But yeah, don't overdo them either coz then the flow might break lol

6. Read! Read! Read! As writers, we sometimes forget to really read other stories or appreciate different characterizations and writing styles, which can make your writing growth halt. Not saying this is true for everyone, but reading more definitely doesn't do harm. And especially for us fanfic writers, this works even better, because we're writing about the same characters again and again. If you read another writer's take on it, you'll slowly start to hold onto the pattern of how a certain character speaks, or what they're likely to do. This is extremely useful when writing a dialogue. For instance, I know how headstrong and stubborn Lily is, I've read so many takes on this trait of hers. So when I write my dialogues, I know I can't have her backing down easily. She will go red in the face, she will yell, she will be in denial, and say harsh things she probably doesn't mean entirely when she's mad. But at the same time, I also know she's unflinchingly kind, so you know you have to write that she speaks in soft tones when comforting someone. She probably smiles really kindly, tucks her hair behind her ear when she's shy, confesses things with a lot of bravery, watches James from the sidelines with the softest expression (sorry, got lost in the feels for a sec)

Similarly, you've gotta make James be the loudest one in the room, the one who's voice carries over to everyone, who's absolutely unabashed in his dialogues and whose confidence shines through his words. But the same boy then turns unsure and tentative in moments where his heart is on the line. I always write his dialogues as super vulnerable during such scenes (much more than Lily's would be). A lot of desperation, pleases, promises, etc. etc.

I know this got really long, and I'm not sure if any of it was at all helpful. If you're looking for something specific, please do send in another ask! I don't mind helping out!

[weasleyswizardpleases]

A Different Kind of Same

Summary: You don’t think there’s anyone else like you at Hogwarts. That is, until you uncover Fred’s secret.

Notes/Warnings: Tw language, food, body talk, dysphoria, dick jokes. This a platonic fred/reader fic inspired by an anon request! Also, spoiler alert, more trans!fred content is on the horizon. Trans fred! Trans reader! Lesbian reader! Very awesome pls enjoy!

Masterlist

Requests are open with no restrictions! Please ask for what you wanna see!

It’s a dreary Tuesday in late winter. The snow is melting into sludge, and everything is grey and muddy. You drag your feet as you trudge along behind your friends, yawning. You’re already about 5 minutes late to potions, and you’re in no rush to get there and be yelled at. 

“You know what would make this day about a thousand times better?” Lee says resolutely, stopping in his tracks so abruptly that you almost run into him. 

“Drugs?” Fred quips.

“Sex?” you add.

“Skipping class?” George says, raising his eyebrows.

“You read my mind, Georgie.”

“And doing what? It’s shit outside,” you say tiredly.

“I heard about this place from Angelina, it’s like a hot spring. You have to use gillyweed to get there, though. It’s in a cavern you can only get to from under the lake, by the cliffs.”

“The makeout cavern?” Fred asks.

“There’s a makeout cavern?” you ask incredulously.

“Sure is, maybe you’d know about it if you could snag a girlfriend,” Fred says, batting you playfully upside the head. You brush his hand away.

“Come off it Freddie, you’ve only been down there to chug beers with me and Oliver,” Lee snickers. “Anyway, what I was trying to say before you lot started up is that there’s a cave in down there by the cliffs that’s supposed to have all these great hot springs that you can get in. I’d bet there won’t be many people down there since everyone’s in class.”

“Everyone but us!” George says triumphantly. “Lead the way, Mr. Jordan,” he adds, bowing low in Lee’s direction. You tug at your skirt nervously.

“I don’t have my swimsuit!” Fred says quickly. You sigh. Perfect excuse.

“Me neither! Besides, it’s going to be so cold on the way down there, we’ll practically be hypothermic by the time we make it to the warm water.” George studies Fred empathetically, drawing a breath.

“We could go in our clothes,” he offers. 

“Or nothing at all,” Lee says mischievously. “Unless you’re afraid we’ll make fun of your little boy pricks,”

“No way!” you say. You shudder at the thought of stripping down in front of your friends. You’re close, but nobody sees you naked. That’s your rule. Being trans at Hogwarts is alright, especially since you’ve learned a lot of spells that help you pass, but you don’t want to come out to your friends by taking your cock out in front of them. Nope, no way. That sounds way too weird. 

“I’ll just stay here.” Fred says. 

“Me too. We’ve already got about 5 absences from potions, we’ll be in Dumbledore’s office if we get another one,” you add.

“Since when are you two scared of detention?” Lee asks, throwing his arms up in the air. “It’s dark under the water anyway. Don’t be prudes. We can takes our clothes in with dehydrating spells and put them back on when we get to the cave, how about that?” George suggests. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

“And Angelina told me she and Katie and Alicia would be down there exploring today. Maybe we’ll run into them.” Lee says.

“You make a very compelling argument,” you say in resignation. Everyone knows you’ve had feelings for Katie Bell since you joined the quidditch team, and Fred is always drooling over Alicia. 

“Fine,” he says, sighing. The four of you begin walking to the water’s edge, where Lee and George begin disrobing. You step behind a tree and slowly start taking your shoes off, hoping that nobody will question why you’re lagging behind- you are the only girl in the group, after all, so it probably seems quite normal. You notice that Fred does the same, slinking away behind a large rock outcropping. 

You push your toes into the rocky sand, shivering. Lee and George are already in their pants.

“You lot go on, I’ll catch up!” you yell. “I’ve no desire to glance over and see your shriveled willies swinging about under there,” you say, pretending to gag.

“You sure know how to boost a man’s confidence,” Lee says, stepping out of his bright red pants and into the water. “Merlin! It’s fucking cold as shite!” he shouts, but George runs up behind him and tackles him into the water before he can hesitate any further. The two come up, gasping and whining at the cold water before disappearing down below. 

You pull your gillyweed out of your pocket and look at it in disgust. The stuff tastes absolutely horrible, and it’s thick and slimy going down. You strip to your panties, cast a drying spell over your clothes, and watch for Fred to follow the other two into the water. You wait at least five minutes before calling out.

“Freddie! You alright?” No reply comes. You tug your shirt back on and step out from behind the tree. “Fred! Come on, I’m freezing my ass off out here!” You hear him reply so quietly that it’s almost incoherent. “What?”

“I’m not coming!” he says, louder this time. You walk a few steps closer, cautiously pulling your skirt on as you make your way in his direction.

“Why not? Are you alright?” His voice is high and soft, as if he’s choked up about something.

“No reason,” he says, sniffling. 

“Are you crying, dude?”

“No!” 

“Then why do you sound like that?”

“No reason!” he says, his voice cracking.

“Can I come over there?” You ask. He doesn’t reply, but you hear his labored breathing as he tries to hold in a sob, so you decide to peek around the rock. What you see is this: Fred, normally much taller than you, now huddled on the ground, trousers off, his hands wrapped tightly around his knees. He looks up at you in embarrassment. 

“You look a bit, erm, anxious?”

“Oh, do you think so?” he says sarcastically.

“Look, I’m embarrassed too, but I’m sure it’s not that small. Nobody’s gonna look, anyway,” you say, half joking, half sincere, probing for a laugh. You’ve never seen Fred cry, and you’re not sure what to do. He snorts and stands up, revealing that he’s wearing what looks like a tight sports bra. Your eyes narrow then widen in recognition. A binder, he’s wearing a binder. You burst out in laughter, doubling over, tears welling up in your eyes. All these years you’ve thought you were alone, and one of your best friends was trans too. How stupid it’s been to be so shy! How silly!

“Well gee, Y/N, it’s not that funny!” he says, smiling uncomfortably. “I’m a wee bit sensitive about the whole gender thing, I figured you’d have gathered that from the whole years-long-secret situation.” You compose yourself, wiping your face. 

“No, no, no. I’m sorry, that’s not it at all, but it is really funny,” you say, consciously dropping your voice a few octaves. He eyes you suspiciously, furrowing his brow. 

“No way!”

“Yes way, dude! I’ve got a dick!”

“Yo!”

“Yo!” His eyes light up and you open your arms to hug him. “That is fucking funny, that is very fucking funny,” he admits, pulling you in for a deep hug. 

“So what do we do?” 

“Oh, I’ve got no fucking idea.”

“Let’s just leave and prank them by leaving them alone down there.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very good prank.”

“No, but going down there in the nude doesn’t sound very good either.”

“Doesn’t George know?”

“‘Course he does, that doesn’t mean I want to walk around with my tits out in front of him!”

“Fair enough. Shall we go to Hogsmeade for a pint?”

“I think so. To celebrate!”

And so you gather your things and trot over to the village, where you chat by the fire all evening. You find out that Fred and George have devised all kinds of spells to help Fred pass, and that his parents, unlike yours, are quite supportive. Together, the two of you decide to start coming out to people, slowly. 

“People like us!” you say encouragingly.

“Yeah! We’re funny!”

“And hot!” you offer. 

“Yeah! Who could hate little old me for having big sexy boobies?”

“Right? And if they do, fuck em,”

You chat in this way, cracking jokes and downing beers, until a group of professors darkens the doorway. You let yourselves out the back way, snickering and hiccoughing into the night.

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 11.1k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: voyeurism, exhibitionism, filmed sex, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), big dick namjoon serving us tripod realness, dom!joon, and when i say dom i mean both dominant AND domestic : ), impregnation kink, daddy kink, praise, dom!jimin, sub!reader in both of these scenes, lingerie kink (m wearing), copious teasing, very light spanking, french kissing, lapdance, the jimin scene is filthier than the tags give it credit for ngl, oral (m receiving), cum swallowing/eating, aftercare (as always) 

banner designer @jamaisjoons​ | thank you everyone in the sfhs server, you bring me so much joy, motivation and good ideas | AND finally thank you to the anon that suggested [redacted] jimin i legit replanned everything just to make that his prompt

DAY TWELVE

The mattresses in the room of bunk beds are surprisingly comfortable. The metal springs squeak a little if you move too much, but you wake up feeling well-rested.

“Not too bad, right?” Hoseok chirps, swinging out on the ladder and jumping down onto the floor with a thud. Using his laundry from the day before, he unceremoniously swaps his sleep shirt and boxers for some deep green skinny jeans and an orange sweater. Namjoon, more modest and distinctly more sleepy, grabs his clothes and stumbles back to his own room.

“The beds? Better than I was expecting for sure.”

Hoseok smiles warmly as you hop down the ladder and arrive on steady ground again, toes curling into the carpet. He fiddles quickly with a chunky watch, doing up the links. “Breakfast is downstairs if you want it.”

You throw him a teasing grin. “Not if you’re making it, thanks.”

He has the good graces to pretend to be offended, before tugging you into a playful side-hug, ignoring your squeak of surprise. “No, you cheeky fucker, Jungkook bought pancake mix. He texted me saying there’s plenty for everyone.”

“Jungkook making breakfast?” you ask dubiously, but the warm image of pancakes for breakfast makes your stomach growl. “Let me get dressed real quick and I’ll come down.”

Jungkook, it seems, is starting out the day cheerful as ever. He gives you a big grin when you, Namjoon and Hoseok come down for breakfast, and he makes sure to dish up the biggest pancakes for you, before taking the second biggest for himself.

Jin raises a teasing brow when you come down accompanied by the two men, Namjoon still with his hair ruffled up awkwardly from his slumber. “Long night?” he questions with a cheesy wink.

Hoseok catches on to the teasing nature, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Sadly, Namjoon wanted a rest day, so we didn’t enjoy any funny business.”

Jungkook watches the three of you closely, lips tightening just a little bit before he breaks out into a cheeky smile. “I think Y/n would have been too tired out to do anything more anyway.”

You choke on air, a forkful of pancakes blessedly not in your mouth yet. Beside you, Hoseok chuckles awkwardly. “Goodness, JK, we heard enough yesterday. The gym walls are not as thick as they should be.”

Instead of blushing like you are, Jungkook puffs his chest up. “I’ve never heard Y/n scream like that with any of you guys. Then again; I bet you haven’t made her squirt like I did.”

This time you aren’t so fortunate, coughing on a mouthful that you’d anxiously stuffed in to keep yourself occupied. You send Yoongi a grateful look as he slides you a glass of water.

“Jesus, Jungkook,” Jin grimaces, “we’re trying to eat breakfast.”

You keep your eyes down, confused by Jungkook’s behaviour and more than a little embarrassed.

When you hear Namjoon speak up, his voice is strangely tensed. “That’s really not appropriate.”

A heated pause. “This is literally a porn show,” Jungkook states defensively, “sex is the whole reason we’re here. I think everyone’s forgetting this is a competition about being the best in bed, I’m just- You know what, never mind, pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“You just what?” Namjoon questions. It’s unlike him to be argumentative, and you shift in your seat, taking another sip of the ice-cold water. “Did you really make us all pancakes just so you could gloat? Y/n is a person, not a video game, Jungkook. Have a little respect.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond, but when you glance up, the frustrated rolling of his eyes and furious stabbing of his fork in a pancake speaks volumes.

Yoongi pinches his brow. “Jin-hyung, can you pass the syrup? Thanks.”

Namjoon stares expectantly at the youngest Gentleman for a few moments, before letting out a light huff and returning to his food.

Silence continues for a moment or two before Taehyung pipes up, voice tiny in the oppressive tension. “How many people still have to do their prompts this week? I haven’t done mine yet.”

Yoongi sends him a lightly exasperated look. “Really?”

Taehyung gives a small shrug, glancing to the camboy sitting beside him. “I mean… I don’t think we need to be explicit but this show is about sex. I feel like it’s equally bad if we don’t talk about it at all, you know?”

“The kid’s right,” Jin allows with a wry grin. “I’ve done mine. Tuesday; though I suppose some of you saw.”

Jimin cocks his head, lost. “Saw? Uh, yes, I haven’t done my prompt yet. Actually, uh, if you guys wanna take part, stay in the lounge tonight. I need an audience.”

You send him an inquiring look. “What about me?”

Jimin lets out a short laugh. “Your participation is kind of mandatory. Please stay in the lounge too.”

You appreciate the slow brushes of conversation that ease the tension away. “Am I an audience member or a volunteer?” You grimace suddenly. “Wait, fuck, it isn’t like a circus act or something, right? You aren’t a magician?”

“Don’t worry, the show won’t be that kind of magic,” he promises.

You go to reply, but your attention is caught by the way Jungkook is openly glaring at Namjoon like he’s waiting for something. “Kook?” you question.

Jungkook’s eye twitches. “Why aren’t you saying anything now, Namjoon? So they get to talk about sex but I can’t?”

Jin sucks in harshly through his teeth, sending a look of alarm to the youngest. “Okay, break it up, that’s enough. Jungkook, any more smart comments and you can leave. We’ll talk privately if you need it.”

Jungkook lets out a bitter scoff, but Namjoon is already rising hastily, banging the edge of the table in his haste to get up. “I’ll go,” he urges, “you all can enjoy your breakfast in peace.”

Nobody seems to even breathe as the sounds of Namjoon’s footsteps fade away, a door upstairs shutting harshly.

Yoongi has his face bent, thumb and forefinger pressing to his forehead, like a headache is coming on. “What the fuck was that?” he muses tiredly.

Jungkook doesn’t answer, staring at his pancakes like he’s trying to make them burst into flames.

You bite your tongue harshly, unsettled by how tempers flared so quickly. Unsure of what to do, you stare at Jungkook for a moment. You don’t want it to seem like you’re picking a side, but he has five others around him, and Namjoon is upstairs alone. You slide your chair out, quieter than last time. “I’m just going to check on him. Jungkook; you’re fine, I’m not angry.”

He breaks out of his death stare at his breakfast to send you a look of bewilderment, but Yoongi is already clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “Well, I am,” the second eldest declares, and you rush upstairs before the scolding begins.

Namjoon answers, albeit reluctantly, when you knock on the door and call out to him. He’s well and truly awake and alert now, hair combed down sullenly, the purple looking more faded than ever against the rich blue of his long-sleeved t-shirt. “Are you okay?” he asks with a tired frown.

Your brows lift automatically. “That is the exact question I came up here to ask. Can I come in?”

His bedroom is even more tidy than usual, now that he hasn’t been sleeping there. You sit down on the edge of his bed, feeling an unsettling swirl of dread.

“I’m sorry about Jungkook,” is the first thing out of his mouth as he sits down beside you, shoulders hunched like he’s making himself as small as possible.

You shake your head slowly. “You shouldn’t apologise on other people’s behalf. He’ll say sorry if he wants to.”

Namjoon pauses for a moment. “Then I’m sorry about contributing to the uncomfortable atmosphere.”

Despite the situation, your mouth quirks into a grin and your eyes soften. “Forgiven. I’m more worried than angry, you know? About the both of you.”

Namjoon lets out a sigh, eyes dancing aimlessly around the room, no doubt pondering complex concepts at the speed of light like he usually was. “This is probably to be expected, right? Tension. I didn’t think I’d be the one involved, though.”

“Ah, it wouldn’t be a reality show without some drama,” you allow, scooting back on the bed so you can tuck your feet up, crossing your legs. “We’ve just gotta move past it, I guess.”

“Didn’t it make you uncomfortable?” Namjoon blurts suddenly, cringing at the volume of his voice. “Him talking about you so publicly like that?”

You run your tongue along the inside of your cheek. “It took me off guard for sure. I don’t know; I guess sex is kind of our currency in here, you know? Him being so, uh, bold about it out of nowhere is pretty weird, though.” You shrug it off. “Maybe he slept bad last night.”

Namjoon searches your face. “I’m too much of a prude, aren’t I? Things like that bother me, so why did I sign up for a porn show?”

You turn to face him, brows knitted in sympathy. “Just because others are more open doesn’t mean being modest is a bad thing. Don’t let Jungkook’s bad mood make you believe that you don’t belong on the show or that you need to change. Okay?”

The two of you share a tender moment of eye contact, before Namjoon laughs shyly and turns his head away. You grin at him. “What?”

“It’s stupid,” Namjoon deflects, “it’s not the time.”

“Not the time for what?” you press. “Tell me; I’m curious now.”

Namjoon’s eyes dart up, pausing briefly at your lips. “I just… I really wanted to kiss you.”

Your heart swells, but you keep your face open, your voice barely louder than a whisper. “Then you should kiss me.”

All the breath leaves his lungs in a rush, but before he can inhale again, he’s propelling himself forward, wide hands cradling your jaw steady so your lips can join, a little uncoordinated but perfect nonetheless.

The small whimper of surprise is muffled by his lips, but you quickly melt into him, hands clutching at the front of his shirt for stability.

You can taste the remnants of breakfast, the sweet stickiness of maple syrup on his lips. You deepen the kiss to seek out more of the flavour, breaths escaping your nose as you don’t dare part for a second. Namjoon seems equally enraptured, shy flicks of his tongue making your head spin.

You lean in until your wrists are pinned between his chest and yours, and then lean in more, wanting to be close. Like oxygen to fire, the more contact you get the more desperate you become, and when his hands lower to lift you easily onto his lap, grinding you unconsciously against his erection, you feel ablaze.

“I need to-nm-do my prompt,” Namjoon murmurs out, teeth catching on your tongue with how deeply you kiss.

You swallow, leaning back slightly to take a breath in. “We don’t have to now,” you assure, moving your hands up to stabilise yourself on his shoulders so that he cranes his neck up to chase your lips. “Or have you graduated from Hoseok’s School of Sexual Prowess already.”

You smile down at the way his eyes flutter shut with a crooked grin, delicate crescent moon lash line a deep brown against his tanned skin. His lips are flushed and swollen, and he swallows like a man parched before he speaks, blinking blearily up at you. “I prefer to learn on the job,” he quips hoarsely.

You grin, leaning down to nudge him slightly to the side with your nose, giving you a better angle to leave a trail of light kisses from the corner of his mouth to the top of his jaw, tugging on his earlobe just enough that you feel his dick twitch against you. “What’s it gonna be, then? Am I a naughty student? Slacking receptionist? Do I need to sign for a package, delivery boy?”

The chuckle Namjoon lets out is pained and reluctant. “Was that what you were hoping for? It’s a bit more romantic than that.”

“Romantic is good,” you assure, letting his arms on your hips hold you steady as you lean back and search his face. “Do I get any more clues? Tell me something.”

When he blinks up at you, there’s something open and earnest in his gaze, like he’s left behind that shy boy that blushes at any mention of sex. “Let me show you, love.”

He cradles your back and lays you down on his bed so delicately it takes your breath away. Without speaking, he presses his lips to yours again, and once again you feel unanchored in an ocean, kept floating by the pressure of his proximity. Slower than usual, you move against each other; his hands bracing him up by the pillow, your leg hitched up over his waist to keep him close. Between the soft cushioning of his bed and the solid heat of his body, you feel secure and safe, eyes closed so that he fills your other senses entirely.

The sweetness of the maple syrup on his tongue and lips has long since melted away, but it leaves behind his natural flavour, one you think you prefer more. Aftershave still clings to his cheeks, tingling your nostrils, but past it is the bright candylike scent of his orange blossom shampoo, and they mix dizzily as the ends of his hair brush your skin.

Need begins to pool between your legs, but it doesn’t drive you, instead staying muted in the background like the pleasant heat of a bubbling jacuzzi, hips rocking lazily without any true purpose as you focus on the shocks of pleasure when your tongues connect.

It’s impossible to tell how long the two of you stay like that, no urgency or haste, just enjoying the intimacy and closeness of shared breaths and swollen lips. When he trails a hand down to slip under your shirt, even his slightly calloused fingertips running up your side is enough to make you whimper, sensitised to every touch.

Namjoon groans when his palm covers your breast, gripping it and swiping a thumb over your stiffened peak, arousing even through the fabric of your bra, his mouth only leaving yours for the second it takes to push your shirt over and off, connecting again with a small grunt of need.

Though Namjoon’s body is hot like a furnace against you, the open air still causes you to shiver, arching your back so Namjoon can blindly locate the hooks on your bra, able to slip it off you in no time at all.

This time, when his teeth tug at your lip and you feel the uninhibited contact of his fingertip tracing a circle around your nipple, it’s like a spike of electricity straight to your core, igniting that spark of full-blown arousal. Namjoon’s lips quirk against yours when you let a moan catch in your throat.

When he shifts down, you’re expecting his mouth on your breast, or perhaps him to sit up to take his own clothes off, but he doesn’t go nearly that far. Instead he presses your jaw up, exposing your neck but laying kisses on the underside of your chin first.

Perhaps it’s that you weren’t expecting that touch, or perhaps such a unique place isn’t used to that type of attention, but his swollen lips caressing just below your jaw feels magical, eyelids fluttering as he sucks so, so gently.

His hand never leaves your breast, massaging the flesh, tracing where your regular skin pebbles into the dusky areola, nail dragging teasingly over the bud, and your mind is working itself into knots trying to process all the sensations he’s stirring in you.

If his first time was thrilling, this was nothing short of electric, neon bursts of colour behind your eyelids the only thing you can see. As his kisses slowly venture lower, dipping to the base of your neck, pulse throbbing against him, you picture your nerve endings like purple strands of electricity in a plasma ball, lighting up with every touch of his fingers, lips and tongue to your skin.

“Na-Namjoon,” you gasp out, swallowing to ease the dryness in your throat, “don’t tease, I need you.”

Namjoon shifts lower, but not low enough, chin resting on your chest as he looks up at you with a pleased smile, clearly satisfied with his improvement from last time. “But love, there’s no rush. We have the rest of our lives, remember? To have and to hold,” he rumbles lowly, pressing  two light kisses to the top of your heaving breasts, “til death do us part.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

Namjoon’s lip twitches. “Oh,” he repeats playfully. Goosebumps break out on the tops of your arms at this sudden brazenness. He’d clearly been doing plenty of talking with Hoseok, and to see his hard work pay off in your pleasured reactions probably gave him a burst of confidence. “Are you going to be patient for me now, love? Let me savour you?”

Your breath catches in your throat, so you just nod shakily.

Satisfied with your response, Namjoon quirks a lip before using the very tip of his tongue to trail a circle around your nipple, just wide enough that the bud strains for his attention. Your fingers clutch his sides, annoyingly still clothed, as he moves to the other one, still giving your nipple a wide berth. “C-come on, Joonie,” you complain hoarsely, “I need more.”

When he looks up at you from below his lashes and sucks one nipple slowly into his mouth, tongue pressing it against his upper teeth, you hiss sharply, releasing the air in a breathy moan. Namjoon suckles at you gently, still languid but no longer avoiding your most sensitive areas, and the hand not propping him up begins rolling the other one between his fingers, making you shudder.

You’re so wet between your legs it’s growing uncomfortable, and so you cant your hips up towards him, hoping he gets the message. He tuts at you, but pulls off your nipple with a wet pop and sits up to undress further.

Namjoon shucks his own shirt without ceremony before his fingers find your waistband, and you let him slide off your pants and underwear as you lie back and enjoy the sight of his thick chest and smooth stomach, a trail of dark baby hairs disappearing past his jeans that you didn’t remember noticing the first time you slept with him.

He takes off those jeans, his boxers too, and joins you on the bed again, running a warm palm up your side. “I want to taste you,” he announces simply, carding a hand through his hair to keep it out of your face.

“Fuck, please.” You watch with wide eyes as he lies on his stomach, hands dipping under your thighs to lift and part them. The exposed air has you clenching instinctively, and you swear you can see his eyes dilate at the sight. “Namjoon,” you whine, back arching in impatience.

“Shh, love, I’ve got you,” he assures, peppering kisses from just below your knees, down your thighs until you can feel his breath on your core. “So beautiful.”

You can barely breathe, head propped up on the pillow to stare down the plains of your chest and stomach to the insanely attractive man between your legs. Though you’d grown fond of the kinkier, wild scenes - in fact, your dreams at night had taken a turn since joining the show - something about seeing Namjoon so at his element in this domestic atmosphere has you dripping.

Like he has all the time in the world, he locks eyes with you and blows a wave of slightly cool air over your folds. You breathe out a groan, sending him what you hope is a convincing-enough pleading gaze. He smiles placidly, licks his lips, ducks his head even further, and-

And blows another stream, this time narrowed and colder, directly over your clit. You shudder and buck instinctively in his grip, his hands on your thighs keeping you spread.

“Come on,” you gasp out, “Hoseok’s made you into a fucking demon!”

“Oh, trust me,” Namjoon murmurs, “Hoseok’s version was way kinkier than this. I’m trying to be romantic and sensual.”

You shift again, fruitlessly trying to wiggle your hips closer. “It would be really fucking romantic if you would actually put your mouth on my-ah!”

Just like you know Hoseok would (you don’t know whether to thank him or curse him for this), Namjoon strikes when you least expect it, and when you most need it.

Though his mouth is small, his tongue is no less nimble, darting deeply through your folds to collect your juices and using them to slurp harshly at your clit. You jerk, hand shooting down to latch in his hair, but he continues that constant, unyielding vacuum until you’re squirming hopelessly beneath him, finally pulling off with the slightest graze of teeth.

“Happy now?” he retorts, swollen lips glossy with your slick. His hands tighten on your thighs. “Hold them.”

Invigorated by his command, you rush to grasp the backs of your knees, keeping your legs up and spread for him. “Fuck, so good, Joonie, w-want more.”

Now with two hands freed, it’s no surprise when two fingers find their way into your wet heat, twisting inside you with every smooth thrust. His chin is smeared with your wetness when he lowers it to continue laving his tongue over your sensitive clit, but he groans sinfully into you, like he’s getting just as much pleasure from it as you are.

Once he really gets going, he’s merciless, his fingers so thick that you don’t even need a third one to really feel him filling you, hooking up to rub at your g-spot every now and again to hear the involuntary whimpers you give out.

You hold onto your own knees for dear life, writhing under him as a hot coil tightens inside you. “Fu-fuck, Joonie, I’m getting close.”

His mouth detaches from your clit for a bare moment, enough for him to pant out a groan and stare lustily up at you. “Don’t cum yet,” he instructs lowly, “you’re going to cum on my cock this time, love.”

You whine, biting your lip harshly to try and distract from the building pleasure. “Then you have to- have to stop, Joonie,” you shudder out reluctantly.

To your surprise, Namjoon is even more begrudging than you are, tugging out his fingers to chase a last few indulgent licks up your seam before he finally sits up to kneel, panting. “Are you ready for me?”

You feel yourself grow impossibly wetter at the sight of him grasping his length, slipping it through your folds to slick it up. “Yes, god yes, I need it, need your cock,” you garble.

Namjoon’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, before he presses his head to your entrance, sinking in barely an inch to test your reaction. “Can’t wait to fill you up, love,” he admits, abs clenching with the effort it takes to sink in slowly. “Fuck a baby into you, my perfect girl.”

Your heart races at his words, clenching around. “God, yes, Joonie, please.” Though all the Gentlemen were well aware you were on birth control, there was something wildly erotic about the thought of it. “Fill me up, wanna be good for you.”

Finally he bottoms out, and your thighs shake at the stretch. With your hips tilted up, it almost feels like he’s fucking right into your stomach, so deep your mind struggles to process the sensations. He heaves a few breaths, giving you a chance to squeeze around him experimentally and grow accustomed to him filling you so completely.

You mumble out your permission for him to move breathily, the air punched out of your lungs when he pulls out only to drive deep inside of you in one slick thrust. Your mouth drops open once he begins to thrust, holding onto your knees for dear life as they tremble uncontrollably.

“God, look at you,” Namjoon pants out, chest heaving with excitement or exertion, perhaps a mix of both. One of his palms presses against the top of your stomach, increasing the pressure of his cock inside you. “‘Be so beautiful with my baby inside you, love, tummy swollen. I’ll take good care of you, would you like that?”

You have to squeeze your eyes shut to put all your focus into speaking. “Ye-yeah, I want that, Joonie,” you manage to articulate, his length keeping your mouth watering whenever he’s inside you. “Gonna be such a good daddy, Joon.”

Like a switch being flicked, Namjoon suddenly jerks, going rigid. Your eyes open blearily when he stills inside you, and you moan openly at the fucked-out look on his face, his eyes lidded and hair wild.

“S-say that again,” he commands, and your mouth drops open at the desperate grate to his voice.

So Namjoon liked to be called… “Daddy,” you whine experimentally, grinning when his cock twitches, hips juddering. “Want you to fuck me, Daddy, please move.”

“God, love, so fucking perfect for me,” he makes out before he starts off again with a renewed vigor, hands kneading at your breasts, at the flesh of your hips, at your ass as he lifts you up to meet his every thrust.

The feeling of him fucking into you so intensely has you feeling delirious, unsure if the ringing in your ears is actually the sounds of your own cries, torn from your throat with every slap of his balls against your ass, the weight of his hips jerking you into the pillow more and more every time.

You feel the pressure of his body hovering just above you, the angle of his thrusts changing, then suddenly his mouth is on your breast again, sucking harshly at the nipple. With the way your body moves beneath him, he can’t help but scrape his teeth against you a couple times, but it just makes the pleasure soar higher, neon starbusts of colour behind your eyelids when you squeeze them closed.

“Close again,” you warn desperately, losing the grip on one of your knees due to the sweat gathering there. With one up and one down, the angle changes again, and you reach out blindly to latch onto his upper arm, screaming at the heights of pleasure. “Can I cum this time, Daddy, please let me cum!”

“Fuck, give it to me, cum for me,” he growls out around your breast, and you see stars.

The orgasm that rips through you is powerful enough that all your senses fade suddenly away, unable to feel anything expect a rush of pleasure all the way down to your toes, boneless yet convulsing as he pistons his hips into you once, twice, three more times until he’s taken by the way you clench tightly around him.

He laps clumsily, wetly at your nipple as he spills inside you, before the two of you are completely drained of energy. Panting, heaving, you don’t even manage to catch your breath before you’re falling into slumber, Namjoon still inside you.

--

“He told us to wait here, right?” you ask anxiously.

There are six of you gathered on the couches in the lounge. Television off, the silence is weirdly uncomfortable. Perhaps that’s just because you know that everyone is waiting here not only to see Jimin, but to see what Jimin is going to do to you.

Hoseok, tucked into the smallest corner of the couch on the right, huffs lightly at your question. “He’s Jimin, Y/n. Either he’s up there primping or he’s just making you wait to be obnoxious.”

Perched beside him with a glass of whisky, two fingers full, Yoongi sends a droll glare to Hoseok. “Bold words for a man who’s choosing to watch the show.”

“I’m curious, sue me.”

“I think we all are,” Namjoon adds, curled up beside you in the central position of the three couches. “I think the only one that knows his prompt is Tae.”

Taehyung turns to answer, propped up against Jin’s side on the left, but the eldest interrupts, a crease of worry between his brows. “Not all of us, it seems,” he points out. “Don’t you find it strange that Jungkook isn’t here?”

“Does he know?” Taehyung wonders, fingers dipping into his pocket to reach for his phone.

Yoongi frowns. “He knows. He asked me not to make him anything for dinner tonight. Said he wasn’t feeling well. Didn’t seem like he was sick, just… distressed. I think you should talk with him, Jin.”

Jin sucks in a breath, pauses, and exhales again, jaw flexing. “Sure.”

The six of you lapse into a slightly strained silence again, before Namjoon gets restless, shifting beside you until he finally clears his throat and looks up at Yoongi. “What is for dinner, hyung?”

“We didn’t really have much for lunch, so I’m thinking steak and pasta,” the doctor offers up. “There’s some carbonara sauce in the pantry that looks good.”

Taehyung coughs nervously. “Do we have steak? I didn’t think there were-”

“We had plenty this morning when I checked,” Yoongi cuts in evenly. “Should I be aware of any recent developments?”

The masseuse pouts, leaning further into Jin’s side like he’ll protect him. “Well… It’s just that I feel so bad for Mango! The kennel I bought online isn’t as insulated as I hoped it would be and I know she gets lonely.”

Yoongi groans, going lax on the leather of the couch. “So you figured she’d what? Cuddle with the steaks?”

“I just figured maybe if I gave her nice food she’d cheer up,” Taehyung adds, “and it was just two! Are you mad at me?”

“No, I guess I’m not. Jungkook isn’t eating anyway, and…” Yoongi grins. “As penance, you can have plain pasta and watch the rest of us enjoy our perfectly cooked steaks.”

Taehyung throws himself against Jin dramatically, but even as he moans in misery, a relieved smile crooks at his lips. “I suppose,” he drawls begrudgingly, and once again a light atmosphere fills the room, like everyone’s just sighed out a breath of relief.

You lean onto the arm of the couch, facing Taehyung. “Tae, Jimin’s prompt isn’t too, like, intense, right?”

He cocks his head. “What do you mean? For him or for you?”

“Uh…” Your mind whirls blankly, cheeks heating up as you draw the attention of the other guys. “For- for me. So far some of the scenes have been pretty taxing, and I guess I just didn’t expect such a jump up from Week One.”

Instead of laughing or teasing, the others go a little solemn, perhaps even bashful. “Jimin’s isn’t super crazy, Y/n, don’t worry,” Taehyung assures quickly.

Yoongi bites down hard on his tongue, jaw popping. “We didn’t go too hard on you, did we?”

You suck in a breath. “I mean- No, not individually. It builds up though, you know?” Something niggles in the back of your mind, something you’ve wondered for a while. “Do you guys talk about it?”

Hoseok hesitates. “About fucking you?”

Your cheeks are on fire as you curl up small in the corner. “Not- Not that specifically, but just… Do you guys discuss who goes when and who has what? I kinda wondered why you spread yourselves out, if it’s just a coincidence or if you- Never mind, it’s stupid.”

“We kinda do,” Hoseok admits freely. “Like, obviously we don’t all sit down in a room brainstorming or something-” You don’t miss the way Taehyung and Namjoon instinctively lock gazes, though you can’t quite read their expressions. Hoseok continues, “but we do chat with each other and try and give each other space.”

Jin shrugs easily. “Yeah, like, I’ll just say in the groupchat, ‘I’m planning on doing my scene outside, look outside at your own risk’ or whatever.” The eldest stiffens as he’s fixed with several glares of alarm, including your own. “What? Were we not meant to tell her about the groupchat?”

Your mouth drops open. “You guys have a groupchat without me? I wanna see!”

“That defeats the purpose of you not being in the group chat,” Yoongi points out, though his grin is more sheepish than mischievous.

You make a noise of exasperation, ready to protest further, but before you can open your mouth the doorbell rings.

Everyone freezes.

After a moment, the doorbell rings again.

“You should go get it,” Taehyung supplies helpfully, eyes on you. “Might be interesting.”

Your heart picks up with the cool thread of adrenaline. It’s time. All eyes are on you as you sit up and make your way out to the foyer, the tile cool under your bare feet.

Though the door is a rich mahogany, clouded glass panels on either side betray a dark figure, perfectly still. Even though you can barely see the outline, there’s no deny the expectant tilt of their head belongs to none other than Jimin.

By the time you pad up to the door and turn the knob, his hand is outstretched to ring the bell a third time, and his mouth parts in surprise before giving you a pleasant beam.

You’d been wondering if he was meant to be a delivery guy, a mechanic, something along those lines, but your first glance over him proves you wrong.

His blue hair is glossy enough to reflect the light of the lamp above the doorway, curled in graceful swoops on his forehead and temples. Though he always wore makeup, it was clear he’s set to impress, with a bold russet red lip, powerful black eyeliner and a spot of gold under each eye.

He’s taller than usual, and you glance down automatically, to be greeted with the most gorgeous black heels, stiletto points giving him an extra few inches of height. The shoes make his legs look a mile long, and you suck in a breath as you follow them up, realising they’re completely bare, the only adornment a sinfully tight pair of black fishnets that dig in to his thighs and calves.

In fact, all he seems to be wearing otherwise is a black trenchcoat, falling to mid-thigh and with the sash tied so tightly it accentuates his narrow waist.

All put together, he looks like sin personified, the kind sailors drown for. You can’t help but want to dive in yourself. Trying to go along with the roleplay, you play dumb. “Do I, uh, do I know you?”

Jimin’s smile broadens as his arm falls, hand resting snugly on his hip. “You will soon, sweetness.” Usually one for pinks, nudes and clear glosses, seeing him suddenly in a deep red makes you realise just how full his lips are. You miss the feeling of them on you. “Did Taehyung not tell you I was coming?”

“Did Tae-?” You clear your throat, unsure how to proceed. This Jimin was Amazonian; bruisingly pretty and intimidating in his grace. “I guess not? Was he supposed to?”

His eyes crinkle empathetically, darting past you into the foyer. “Let’s talk inside, shall we? I’m not exactly dressed for the outdoors.”

“Oh, fuck!” you blurt instinctively, and you swear his lip twitches before you’re backing away hastily, ushering him inside. “I’m so sorry, please come in! Do you want me to take your coat? I don’t- I don’t know what you need.”

Jimin steps inside and closes the door behind him in one smooth motion, punctuated only by the click of his heels on the tile. He reaches out to pat your cheek, only somewhat condescendingly. “No wonder, sweetness, you didn’t even know I was coming.” That isn’t quite true, but in the scheme of things, you may as well not have known he was doing his scene tonight at all for all it’s helping you. “Why don’t you lead me to Taehyung? I assume he’s here.”

“Of course he’s- I mean, yes, he’s here. Right this way.”

The two of you only have a short trip to the lounge, where no doubt the other five have been straining their ears to eavesdrop, but every strike of his heels against the floor behind you has the hairs on the nape of your neck standing on end.

In the lounge, the guys are all turned around in their seats to shamelessly ogle Jimin, Taehyung the only one without the gobsmacked look on his face - though even he takes in an unsteady breath at how gorgeous the man looks.

You make your way to him, standing awkwardly in front of the couch that him and Jin share. Turning back to face Jimin, you can’t help but match Taehyung’s reaction. Jimin looks even more radiant in the decent lighting of the room. You can see now his trenchcoat is a lush fabric, slightly thicker than silk, and deeply matte. Around the inside of the collar is a faint embossed silver logo, promoting Chanel as the designer of that piece.

Ignoring the stunned silence of the room, Jimin slinks immediately to Taehyung, tipping his chin up with his knuckles. “Did you not tell Y/n about me, hm?” he questions with a faux pout. “Kept it a secret, our naughty Taehyungie.”

The masseuse wilts pleadingly under Jimin’s gaze, and the responding wicked grin makes you think that Jimin probably told him to keep quiet, only to tell him off for it now. “Sorry, Minnie,” Taehyung mutters nonetheless. “Wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Did you now?” Jimin lets go of him, stepping back. “I suppose we should get down to business, then. Are you all leaving, or do I have an audience tonight?” Glancing around imperiously, you watch as his eyes dart back and forth, smile faltering. His breath catches, eyes dull with disappointment that he quickly masks under a broad smile. “It’s just the six of you, then?”

Your heart aches as you think of the missing person still upstairs in his room. “Yeah, it’s just us.”

Always the professional, Jimin moves on without comment. “Well, then, sweetness; take a seat and get comfortable. You’re a lucky girl tonight.”

Your mouth feels dry even as it waters. Taking your seat beside Namjoon again, you watch in rapt anticipation as Jimin slips a hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone, fiddling with something on it as he strolls slowly into the center of the room, just in front of the television.

“We have a few rules,” Jimin announces. “No heckling, no getting drunk while I’m here, and no touching unless I give you permission. They’re simple, so I expect you to follow them. Got it?”

With his back to the group as he sets up his phone, you’re unsure who exactly he’s addressing, but some of you make general hums of confirmation, all the attention on Jimin.

When the music starts - a deep, thrumming beat with a sensual pace - you can see the change in him immediately, even from the back. His shoulders adjust, head tips back slightly like he’s letting it run through him, and his fingers find the knot of his sash.

You can barely comprehend the fact that Jimin is about to dance for you, breath caught in your throat when his hips begin to sway and the fabric of his trenchcoat loosens, slipping down just enough to reveal the tops of his shoulders, bare except two skinny black straps.

Following the groove of the music, he rocks his head back, hips shifting side to side, and lets the coat fall an inch at a time. A tight black bodice is revealed, structured leather with a soft velvet trim that covers most of his back. Sleeves dangling right at the ends of his fingertips, the coat dips just below the swells of his ass, which are clad in a racy g-string, a thicker band of lace low across his hips and a narrow one running down the middle of his cheeks. Letting the coat go completely, the last of his back silhouette is exposed, the leather garter straps that hold those fishnet stockings up.

“Shit!” Yoongi hisses under his breath, hands glinting in the light and whiskey glass significantly emptier than before. A dark patch spreads across one leg of his pants, evidence of him spilling his drink.

Though he was quiet, Jimin picks up on it, and turns smoothly, lightly surprised and heavily amused, watching Yoongi squirm in embarrassment as he approaches.

If the view from the back is breathtaking, seeing Jimin full-frontal is another level. The bodice has clearly been tailored for someone with a flat chest, but the shape no less speaks to the feminine style of a bra, roughly triangular leather covering the upper half of his chest to meet the smooth velvet straps. The whole piece is just short enough that it leaves a stripe of skin between fabrics, his hipbones jutting out gracefully and guiding your gaze lower, where the front of his lace panties strain with the size of his length, the tip threatening to peek out the top.

He’s hard, you notice with a start, and from the hazy look on everyone’s faces, they’ve noticed it too. Jimin likes this.

When he’s standing in front of Yoongi, towering over the other in his heels, he reaches out a hand silently, eyes darting to the glass in Yoongi’s hand.

The elder gulps, holding it up, blushing as Jimin wraps one hand around Yoongi’s wrist, and takes the glass from him with the other. In a graceful swill, he downs the last of Yoongi’s whiskey, not even wincing. Teasingly, he bends down to place the empty glass directly over Yoongi’s crotch, making him hiss.

Like he has all the time in the world, Jimin straightens up again and tugs the wrist in his grasp higher. Locking eyes, Jimin parts his lips and wraps them around the base of Yoongi’s thumb, sucking off the spilt liquor.

Yoongi groans lowly, cheeks stained red as his eyes flutter shut in a mix of pleasure and humiliation. As Jimin makes his way through all of Yoongi’s fingers, bobbing his head obscenely and swirling his tongue, you think you see the empty glass wobble on Yoongi’s lap, like his cock is twitching in his pants. Fuck. It’s not even you getting the full weight of Jimin’s attention and you already feel dizzy with need.

Once he’s done, Jimin lets go and Yoongi’s hand falls limply to his side. Satisfied, he moves to the center of the room again, hips fluid with the flow of the music.

A cursory glance around the room shows that you’re not the only one heavily affected. Beside you Namjoon is restless, shifting back and forth from spreading his legs to ease the pressure, and clenching them together to try and hide the bulge in his pants. Hoseok looks pale, eyes wide and locked onto Jimin’s ass as he walks away from their couch.

On the other side, Taehyung and Jin are significantly more shameless; Jin rests a hand on the back of Tae’s neck and tugs at the curls of hair there as the younger boy ruts against his thigh, curled into his side even as the two of them focus on the attraction in the centre of the room.

You can only imagine how fucked out you must look too, wriggling against the couch cushion seeking friction with your heart thudding in your chest. The effect is only heightened when Jimin locks his eyes to you and begins to dance.

One day, a few of you were gathered in this very lounge, having enough drinks to get a bit silly and uncoordinated. Jimin had told you all a little bit about his dancing career. From what he’d said, you formed this mental image of him in soft makeup and satin shoes, dainty but powerful in front of an adoring crowd. The way he spoke about music - too much of a heavyweight to be as incoherent as the rest of you - made it seem like it was his greatest love, a match made in heaven.

Though now pirouettes and grand jetés had been replaced by spread legs and lidded eyes, you could still see that passion he spoke of. It enchanted you like a snake charmer or a siren, and arousal entwines endlessly with awe in your stomach.

After what feels like the shortest eternity, the music of the first song fades out, and Jimin straightens up, exhaling a breath like he’s releasing its hold from his body to make room for the next.

The tune that fills the room next has a decently higher tempo than the first one, each beat punctuated by a clap, and he grins when he hears it, stalking forwards.

Between Jimin and the rest of you is a coffee table, and he makes his way around to Taehyung and Jin, eyes sparkling at how Taehyung straddles Jin’s thigh, blinking up at the dancer owlishly.

“Oh, baby,” Jimin coos, “enjoying the show?”

Taehyung nods, not shy but too wound up to speak.

At the lack of verbal response, Jimin grins, perching himself on Jin’s other thigh, making the eldest hiss. “Taehyungie,” Jimin calls in a sing-song voice, fingers winding into his hair, just above Jin’s, “you still haven’t paid me for my services, you know?”

“H-huh?” Poor Taehyung looks barely coherent, interrupted from his grind and staring weakly at Jimin’s glossy lips. You can’t imagine you’d be faring any better in his situation. “What- How do I pay you?”

Jimin faux pouts. “Normally I’m very expensive,” he admits lowly, but the room is silent apart from the music, and since it’s just playing from his phone, it doesn’t impede the rest of you listening in. “But I like you. I’ll take my payment tomorrow. You know what I mean, right?”

Taehyung nods dumbly, obediently, making the dancer grin wickedly.

Fixing his attention on Jin, Jimin trails his fingertips up his thigh and traces the outline of Jin’s cock in his makes, making him groan. “Take good care of my baby tonight, won’t you?”

Jin sucks in a shaky breath, eyes darting to Taehyung, but the curly-haired boy just whines and buries his face in the crook of Jin’s neck, a wordless display. “You got it, Min.”

From the other side of the room, a click of the tongue catches your attention. Hoseok is straight-faced, extricating himself from the corner of the couch to stand up and make his way out.

Jimin swiftly stands in front of him to impede his way. “Where are you going?”

Hoseok rolls his eyes with a shrug. “I came, I saw, I sated my curiosity. I’m not interested in waiting in line to be fondled, thank you very much.”

Jimin seems to have forgotten the music, eyes gleaming as he faces off the dom. “Poor baby too impatient to wait, hm? I’ll let you jump the queue,” he finishes in a husky voice, grinning.

Hoseok eyes the doorway behind Jimin, huffing impatiently. “Nice try. I’m not interested.”

Tipping his head to the side, Jimin’s brows lift in a mix of surprise and bemusement. “I’m inclined to disagree,” he says, taking a step closer so that only a sliver of air parts them. Hoseok stiffens, stubbornly avoiding looking at the dancer. “I’d venture a guess that you’re leaving so suddenly because you’re a little too interested.” Slow enough that Hoseok has plenty of time to refuse, Jimin runs his knuckles all the way down Hoseok’s front, brushing over his crotch. His grin widens, flashing white teeth. “Hmm.”

Hoseok scoffs and pulls himself away, neck and forehead slightly red. “Don’t get too cocky. It was from Taehyung, not from you, peaches.”

Even from the other side of the room, Jimin’s instinctual reaction is clear as day. His shoulders drop and his lips part, lashes fluttering before he can control the response.

If you didn’t miss it, Hoseok certainly didn’t either. He barks out a laugh, back in power again, and steps to Jimin’s side to pass him. “Knew it. Don’t miss me too much, then, peaches.”

Even as Jimin is shuddering at the petname again, Hoseok rears his hand back to smack Jimin’s ass with a sharp noise of impact, Jimin jumping forward with a startled squeak. “No touching!” the dancer hisses, one ass cheek already flooding with a sweet candy pink.

“Apologies,” Hoseok says with a teasing grin, already at the doorway, “I’ll see myself out.”

Jimin makes an indignant cry, but the older man is already bouncing up the stairs cheerfully. Determined to get the sexy atmosphere back, Jimin takes a deep breath and turns back to you all with a rueful smile, but it falters when the music fades out, the second song ending. “Ah,” he murmurs, “show’s over, kids.”

Namjoon, the only guy that hadn’t received any personal attention, sits up with a frown. “Wait, already?”

Jimin shrugs, smiling at him sweetly. “Sorry, Joon. Last song’s a private dance. Maybe another time.”

A private dance. Your breath quickens as Jimin turns off the next song that randomly came up on shuffle, collects his phone, and hitches his coat off the floor with the point of a stiletto, gathering it under his arm.

The others quietly start to stretch, sit up, Yoongi going to fill up his glass again. By the time Jimin makes his way to you, Jin has already lifted Tae up with a single arm under him, carrying the younger upstairs as Taehyung sucks shamelessly at his neck. Namjoon is slower to move, probably still a little worked up and edged from the show, but he joins Yoongi in the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone.

Once Jimin is directly in front of you, your breath stops. He’s gathered the lightest sheen of sweat from dancing, or perhaps that’s just the highlighter on his cheeks, and his eyes are hazed from the excitement of performing. He silently reaches a hand out to you with an enticing smirk.

You furrow your brow in confusion. “Not here?”

“I did say private. Unless you want me to fuck you where everyone can see?”

You gulp at the thinly veiled threat. “We can go.” You take his hand and let him lift you up with effortless strength, pausing when he looks at you expectantly. “Did I do something…?”

Jimin beams like you’re a cute but stupid pet. “I haven’t been here before, remember? Show me to your room, sweetness.”

“Oh!” You rush past him, hands catching to guide him out and upstairs. The thrill of excitement speeds your steps, and in no time at all he’s placing his coat and phone on your desk, guiding you to sit on the end of the bed.

The third song starts with the familiar smoothness of Beyonce’s voice, an older pop song that holds up still, and Jimin slips off the black straps of the bodice, another set directly below them. Arms tucking behind him, he begins to undo the clasps one by one.

“You were being very well behaved, you know, sitting there and waiting for your turn,” he muses, fiddling with the fabric behind him. “Now you get a reward.”

You don’t know what to say in response, just nodding wordlessly, but it seems he is content with that. After a moment, you notice the top half of the bodice pull away from his chest lightly, revealing not plain skin but more lace, matching the panties that struggle to cover his cock. He approaches you as he undoes the last few at the base, and slips smoothly between your legs, letting it fall to the side.

In front of you in all his glory, Jimin looks gorgeous, the inky swoops of his tattoo peeking out from under a sweet black lace bralette, the skinniest straps holding up the delicate cups. In the center is a tiny black satin bow, and you think you feel your heart give out a little at the sight of it.

Even in his pretty lingerie, he’s no less intimidating, and you shudder at the feeling of his eyes locked onto you, feeding on your reactions and pinning you to the bed.

“You like it?” the dancer asks, voice rough with arousal. You nod quickly, still too stunned for words. Jimin hums, winding a hand around the back of your neck. “Show me how much you like it.”

Before you can suck in a breath, his mouth descends on yours, and a shot of electricity runs through you as he spares no time for pecks and caresses. This kiss is nothing short of filthy, his tongue runs over your teeth, he bites your lips, he sucks on your tongue. You do your best to reciprocate enthusiastically, but there’s no question who’s in charge.

With how deep and primal it is, there’s no surprise when you feel your shared spit begin to collect in the corners of your lips and run down your chin. Jimin doesn’t stop, but lowers his mouth to lap it up, pushing it back in and continuing to fuck his tongue into your mouth.

You moan hopelessly into the kiss, hips rocking on the edge of the mattress fruitlessly and fingers holding on to his neck and shoulder for dear life. His teeth are sharp, nipping mercilessly at your bottom lip until your eyes sting, but it only serves to drive more need.

The music in the background livens up as it reaches the chorus, and suddenly the thought of the song finishing and him leaving you high and dry comes to mind. You tug yourself away from him, sucking the spit off your swollen lip. “Jimin,” you gasp out, “I want you.”

Jimin grins. Though his gloss is all but gone, the colour on his lips remains intact. “You aren’t gonna let me finish my dance, sweetness?”

“Wi-Will you still fuck me after the song ends?” you ask, feeling stupid for needing confirmation.

Jimin lets out a soft but condescending coo, hands squeezing your cheeks together so that your lips pout. “Poor baby just wants to get fucked, does she? Baby just wants a cock in her.”

Even as he mocks you, you can’t even defend yourself. “Please, Jiminie.”

He places a single light peck over your protruding and obscenely swollen lips. “Let’s make a deal; I’ll dance for the rest of the song, and if you can keep your hands to yourself, I’ll let you cum when I fuck you. Sound fair?”

At this point, you’d agree to anything, and both of you know it. “I can do it,” you insist even as your voice wobbles.

Instead of answering, Jimin begins to move, following the momentum of the music. Your hands lie at their sides, the duvet cool against your heated flesh.

He starts out easy, stepping back to give himself more space and slowly lowering into a crouch, the heels making his calves pop. Running his hands down his chest, fingers slipping under the lace, he sighs out like his own touch gives him unspeakable pleasure.

You grit your teeth. Watching him touch himself just makes you want to touch him more. He widens his legs, showing the place where the lacy band narrows down below his balls into a thin string. Whether it’s the angle or just the amount of moving he’s done, the tip of his cock has nestled up higher, poking out just to the side of his hip. Shamelessly, he runs a single fingertip over it, tapping so you can see the clear strands of precum that cling.

You let out an unsteady breath, relaxing slightly as the song begins to build to the final chorus. Not long.

Unfortunately for you, Jimin recognises the changing keys as well as you do, and he stands up smoothly, slinking towards you.

Instead of settling between your knees this time, he turns his back to you and bends down, folding himself in half to fully bare his ass. Hoseok’s handprint still pinkens the skin of one, and the sudden desire to reach out and see if it’s as warm to the touch as it looks overcomes you. You hiss and fist your hands in the fabric of the duvet cover, making Jimin stretch up with a laugh.

Merciless, Jimin widens his stance, choosing to sit on top of your lap, ass grinding on you. You can imagine this movement would be much more unbearable for a guy, but you still feel your resolve unravelling, taken by the fluidity of his hips, the lace accuentuating his slender waist, the pressure of his head as he tips it back onto your shoulder.

“This is so unfair,” you complain shakily, and are rewarded with the musical giggle Jimin lets out, bubbling from his arched throat right into your ear.

Luckily, the chorus ends, and the final notes settle down. Jimin’s hips still and he turns his head, lips just about brushing your cheek. “Good job, sweetness,” he praises warmly, “can I have another kiss?”

Your jaw jerks automatically before you catch yourself. Though it’s fading out, the song technically hasn’t ended yet. “Not yet.”

Shameless even as his ruse is exposed, Jimin just beams and twist around so that he’s straddling you face-on. He lowers his mouth to your collarbone, nibbling at the skin there as the beat fades and the overlaying instruments peter out. Though it must only be ten or fifteen seconds, it feels like forever as he rocks himself against you just like Taehyung had done to Jin - albeit less desperate and more strategic - and licks at the bite marks on your neck.

Finally, it goes silent, and you exhale deeply, hands automatically coming up to rest on his hips as he laughs lightly at your successful efforts. “I’m impressed,” he admits, “guess you get your reward after all, sweetness.”

So relieved that the heat between your legs will get some attention, you barely take notice of him standing up off you, at least not until he slips his cock fully out of the panties.

His cock, straining with being left unattended so long, is a far deeper pink than the mark on his ass, particularly around the head. He sucks in a breath through his nose as he strokes himself, before blinking down at you.

“Clothes off if you want me, sweetness.”

You could guarantee you’ve never undressed so quickly before, frantically enough that your hips are hot from the friction of tugging down your pants. You take no note, however, just spreading your legs wantonly as you eye up his cock.

“Fuck, look at you,” Jimin curses, bracing a hand on your hip as he lines himself up. “Don’t even need stretching, do you? Looks like Joonie opened you up for me already.”

Your cheeks burn, but there’s not enough time to dwell on the embarrassment, as Jimin holds you down with his grasp on your hip and bottoms out in a single thrust.

Even though he’s right, the sudden fullness has you gasping a moan, almost falling onto your back. You prop yourself up and widen your legs further, eyes locked on the sight of his cock, nestled underneath by the lushest black lace, buried deep inside you. “Fuck, please move.”

“My pleasure,” he coos with a sweet smile, before the smile drops to a slack pout of lust, snapping his hips with a deftness that you now know is due to his background as a dancer.

You fight to keep yourself sitting up, one hand around the back of his neck as he fills you with every stroke, but the angle isn’t quite right, and you find your pelvis shifting to find it.

Jimin notices your frustration, and wordlessly pauses, grips your thighs and tugs you forward so that you’re flat on your back, ass over the edge and held up by his upper body strength. Without you even processing the change, he’s returning to his ruthless place, and you sob from relief at the way your insides come alive with pleasure, so much stronger than before.

“Fuck, right there! Right- ungh, yes, Ji-Jimin,” you pant out, feeling unbearably hot all at once with the intensity of it.

Though part of you is still sore from the scene you had with Namjoon earlier, your swollen walls only increase the drag of him against your sensitive tissue, and you quickly turn incoherent, tongue so thick in your mouth that you open it, panting as your fingers clutch the duvet to anchor you.

“That good, huh?” Jimin notes with a laugh stuttered by grunts of exertion. Normally, you’d protest or retort, but with your ankles wrapped around him and back arching off the bed, there’s nothing on your mind but the enveloping urge to cum.

Rather than reply, you just let yourself drown in the sensations, vision going black as your eyes roll into the back of your head.

Your orgasm comes so fast that you don’t even notice it approaching, can’t even warn him. It’s like a clap of thunder, making you go stiff with a scream before turning completely boneless, legs slipping down off him weakly.

Jimin curses as you squeeze around him, but fucks you through it thoroughly, only slowing down once you begin to fuss, shivering and wriggling away.

Dazed from the sudden onslaught of pleasure, it takes you a few moments for the fog in your brain to clear. Once you do, you glance down and realise Jimin is still achingly hard, dripping with your slick and the remnants of Namjoon’s cum, but none of his own. He strokes it lazily, gaze searching your face.

So exhausted from two intense scenes in one day, you don’t think you could manage to jerk him off or give him a decent blowjob, but to leave him hanging would be cruel. Instead, you fumble to slide yourself off the bed, landing a little too hard on your knees.

“What are you- oh, Y/n, fuck,” Jimin exclaims lowly as you blink up at him and open your mouth, sticking your tongue out. He gets the message easily, speeding up his strokes as his tip bounces on your tongue, brief sparks of the salty tang of your shared arousal.

He must have been close before, because it doesn’t take him more than a minute to fall over the edge, cumming into your mouth with thick spurts. A shame it couldn’t have been inside you a different way, but you nonetheless chase his cock, blade of your tongue dipping into his slit to make sure you’d gotten every last drop.

Jimin swears lowly, stroking your hair back fondly as you swallow, and helps you stand up on wobbly legs.

Leading you to the bathroom, Jimin sits you on the closed toilet seat as he runs a bath. Having slipped off his heels somewhere back in the room, he unhooks his garters as he waits for the tub to fill. With one leg resting on the high edge of the tub, rolling down the fishnets one at a time, you once again are silenced in awe of his beauty.

It feels unspeakably intimate to watch him unclasp the bralette, slip off the panties, and slowly take his makeup off, easily locating the makeup remover he’d borrowed from you that very first night.

Your eyes sting a little as you’re reminded of that time. It feels like an eternity ago, even though it’s just under a fortnight. You’d thought he was so intimidating back then. Though he still had the power to command attention, you’d seen enough of the kindhearted, thoughtful and sensitive man beneath that the Jimin two weeks ago felt like a very different man.

“Water’s ready.”

You blink yourself out of that train of thought, letting Jimin help you carefully into the tub, joining you on the other side, legs tangled. “Thank you,” you manage to say, still feeling a little out of it after a tiring day and a good orgasm.

Jimin beams, glancing away to obscure some of his face. It’s clear to you that the lack of makeup has him feeling a bit vulnerable. His skin is flushed red - either naturally or from exertion you couldn’t tell - and his brows were softer, eyes looking smaller without the shadow that emphasised them. He wasn’t any less beautiful like this, just more human. Comforting, in a way, as he passes you a washcloth and begins to lather himself up in strawberry-scented bodywash.

“Hey, Y/n,” Jimin starts, but his voice sounds weirdly stilted and unlike him.

“Mm?”

“My, um, my…” He lets out a light cough, avoiding your gaze with an air of forced aloofness. “Granny keeps asking about you. She’s convinced we’re dating, but that’s, uh, I’ve assured her we aren’t. She really liked you, and whenever we chat she asks to speak to you, and, um…”

You feel more coherent than you have in a good couple hours, sitting upright. “She does?”

Jimin laughs ruefully. “I never really knew how to ask you if you wanted to speak to her, or if I should even ask you at all-”

“So you thought now, while we’re both naked in a tub after you fucking my brains out is the right time?”

Jimin’s cheeks colour more as he splutters. “You can say no, I just didn’t want you to… I don’t know. You can say no.”

You beam at him. “I have one rule.”

“What?”

“I’ll hang out with Mrs. Park on one condition.”

The blue-haired boy stares at you warily. “Which is?”

You lean forward with a deadpan expression on your face, making him grimace in worry. “You let me sleep in your bed tonight,” you explain gravely, “I’m running out of options for this Bangasm Bomb thingy, and it’s only fair after you just took me out of commission like that.”

Jimin laughs in relief, throwing his head back with a joyous grin. “Deal! Don’t scare me like that.”

You return his smile, heart swelling from the fondness you hold for him. “Of course I’ll chat with your grandma, Jimin. I love her. She reminds me of you a lot.”

You may have said too much, but Jimin goes lax against the opposite end of the tub, smile never leaving his lips, and you don’t regret it for a second.