#and nobody suggested maybe the season's too fucking long

[alasarys]

On your point about going off stream, I was actually wondering this too bc we know that’s what max did at first after Brazil, the days they gamed before Lando joined the streams. And max has never hesitated to go offline for him so it’s not like Lando HAD to be on stream if they wanted to game. So my personal guess is that Lando wanted to join and max was trying to create an actively positive atmosphere rather than promoting the whole hiding away/isolating thing or risk Lando perceiving it like they’re “coddling” him or whatever. And for what it’s worth, chat was surprisingly very receptive to it

Anon, you're almost certainly right. Sometimes there's no winning with whatever Lando has going on in his head, and Max just has to roll with it in the least harmful/most normal way he can.

[evilvillain123456789]

i can't stop fucking old people. it's seriously a problem. their hearts can't fucking take it. they know i'll kill them. but they never say no. i travel city to city with each conquest. i log onto tinder and meet a girl. three chances a year... one for easter dinner, one for thanksgiving, one christmas. she takes me to her house to meet the family. the grandmother and i lock eyes from across the table. grandfather has passed. shes here alone.. sad.. we make eye contact for a while until she excuses herself, and i follow her. sometimes the deed is done right there in the bedroom, sometimes i'm given the number to her jitterbug, to return to her later. she makes me go in raw no matter what i suggest. i break up with the girl shortly after i've achieve sexual contact with one or both grandparents. i've no family of my own. that's true, that's always the excuse. i got a reputation that follows me. that's why i'm always moving. the grandmother often catches a VD from our little quickie. her weakened immune system. she passes away a few weeks later. some time before her time. or maybe just in time. god forbid, she invites me over. i sit in her little rocking chair as she speaks to me. that was her husbands chair.. she eyes me. my presence awakens this within her. i make her feel young again. she leads me to her bedroom. i have no reason to restrain myself, nobody will find us. she comes, then she goes. i clean her up as she grunts from the remnants of her heart attack, and leave her tucked into bed. she lays there peaceful, like shes asleep. that's when i lock the doors on my way out, and head to the next city. the next city, where i'll lay low until the next holiday season. start chatting up some chicks while i'm at it.. god, and the grandfathers. unlike with the grandmothers, they dont need to have lost their love to want me. they always cheat. they always want to use me as a tool to cheat. they look at me in ways their wives havent seen in years, and their wives see this. but their wives remain subservient. they always let him do this. they pray for him, but none of them pray for me. they hate me. they hate me so much. they know what i'm doing but refuse to make it stop. i lead their husbands away and kill them. they know it serves him right. i leave them heartbroken. but they'll never say a word. they'll never say a word about how an ugly little gay boy stole their man and now he's paid the ultimate price. and so have they. they seethe until their death. sometimes i swoop in on them too. silence them. they want me to silence them. but usually its too risky. after all, there are simply some secrets, that one must take to ones grave no matter what. i have nothing to gain from doing this. what i do is completely legal. all are lucid. but i feel as if i'm moving through a dream. i feel the earth around me shift as though i were asleep. i can't settle down. i can't fucking stop it. i want to stop. i want to find love. i feel so guilty. how many women fell in love with me, only to lose me. lose one or both grandparents and i'm nowhere near to comfort her. by the time it comes to mourn, i'm already long gone..

But yes, i suppose you can apply this to your fucking little tomgreg or harry styles or whatever. Yeah dude. You fucked that old man.

[satinsummer]

Chapter 1: Likewise

Summary: The first time you met Sam you knew you had to have her but how would you get her?

Culinary is your major but sports media is your side quest that turned you into a dual degree seeking mf! ;)

Chapter 2: https://www.tumblr.com/satinsummer/761133841884889088/chapter-2-movie-night?source=share

WARNING: Suggestive Language, Drug Use (Smoking Weed) 18+ No men or minors pls and thanks!

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

Nobody POV

It all started at Y/BF/N's soccer game, after a long day of running around a hot kitchen with no break, sitting on the cold metal bleachers was the only thing that brought Y/N some sort of solace that fated night.

Sitting all the way at the top wasn't the best choice with the way her legs and feet were aching but it was tradition, especially since this was not only the first game of the season but this was Y/BF/N's first senior game and Y/N wouldn't miss it for the world! As she's scanning the crowd and just taking everything in Y/N noticed the "Core 4" + Anika as Chad so happily calls them making their way through the packed area.

Tara, Mindy, Anika and some mystery lady Y/N has never met stop and start talking to Quinn who just so happened to know few players on the team. Chad just continued to climb the bleachers until he reached Y/N.

"Yoo Y/N" Chad says with a big ass smile on his face, arms stretched out to hug her. "Hey Chad" Y/N says smiling but not moving an inch. "Sorry I realllyyyy don't feel like standing up unless I absolutely HAVE NO OTHER CHOICE but to" She stated now eyeing the mystery lady following behind Tara while they continued their ascend up the bleachers having now finished the conversation with Quinn.

Before Y/N or Chad get to say anything else Tara is barreling past him and pulling Y/N into a hug. "Where have you been all day, under a fucking rock??My girlfriend has not stopped talking about how sad she is because she didn't think you'd make it. I was honestly starting to think she loved you more than me and so I had to show her who she belo-" "OKAY THATS ENOUGH" Slapping a hand over Tara's mouth be she gets too carried away. "Anyway I was afraid of not making it because dinner service was a shit show and- Who's She?"

Y/N had finally stood up and looked behind Tara after pulling back from the embrace to shoot Mindy and Anika a small wave and smile but instead she was met with the most gorgeous set of chocolate colored eyes she'd ever seen. It felt like her the entire world stopped.

She stood there just staring back at her, eyes dark and brooding scanning over your face as Y/N did hers. Her hair was framing her face perfectly, her eyebrows were knit in concentration or maybe it was confusion either way Y/N just wanted to reach out and soothe it over with her thumb but she fought against it.

"Keep staring and I'll make sure I'm the last thing you see" And that's all it takes to knock Y/N out of whatever spell she was under while looking at mystery lady. "SAM! You cant threaten to kill everyone that looks at you, especially not my girlfriends best friend. Y/N she didn't mean that. Right Sam?" Tara said ending her sentence with an elbow to Sam's side. "Yeah, Right" she grumbled rolling her eyes at Tara before sitting down.

A bit after you and mystery lady's SAM's moment, everyone gets settled to watch the game as it begins. "So Sam, is this your first time at a soccer game?" Y/N asks, looking over at sam who was already looking at her. "Yeah" Sam replies never taking her eyes off of Y/N. "Want me to explain it? Help you under a bit better?" Y/N offers. "Nope" and with that Sam turns her back around to the game and doesn't say another word. That is until the game is over and Y/BF/N is running to Y/N as she pushes her way on to the field to greet Y/BF/N.

Y/BF/N played one of her best games EVER tonight, she came away with 2 goals-2 assist and 3 steals. She plays hard so when her and Y/N finally meet in the middle she's throwing her body on Y/N like a kid seeing their mom after the first day of school. She's overjoyed to have won and to know her best friend, her girlfriend and their friends were there to have witnessed it. "I'm so fucking proud of you, Y/B/NN. You were a goddamn storm out there!" Y/N shouts while rocking back and forth still embracing Y/BF/N. As the two girls pull back from each other and start doing their handshake, the rest of the group has made their was down to the field and over to them.

Tara pulls Y/BF/N into a big ass hug that ends in a kiss Sam would've paid money not to see. The rest of the group just standing there awkwardly talking amongst themselves as it continues.

"How's the chef been? You ran off to Jersey for the summer and have been MIA since you came back" Mindy points out and just like that all eyes are back on Y/N. "She didn't run off" Y/BF/N interjects after finally pulling away, jersey was still a sore topic for the two but at least Y/N could count on Y/BF/N not to force conversations about it.

As Y/BF/N headed off to the locker rooms to shower and get changed, with Tara following close behind Y/N seen this an opportunity to answer Mindy's first question. "Anyway, the chef is great, I'm in my final year so it's more stressful now than it has ever been but the world deserves to taste me so I'm dedicated to perfecting that." "Taste...you?" Mindy snickers a sly smirk playing on her lips. "Yeah, taste me and I know your gutter mind ass is taking it there so I won't divulge but I will extend you an offer to stop by the kitchen and learn somethings" Y/N states matter of factly looking straight into Mindy's eyes and suddenly she's the one acting all coy and bashful. "Damn, Y/N. You go MIA and come back trying to be Miss.TakeMyBitch" Anika says feigning betrayal. Laughter erupts between all of them and suddenly Y/BF/N and Tara are making their way back to the group. Looking a little "freshly fucked" might Mindy add but she saves them the embarrassment for now.

As everyone is walking through the parking lot and getting into their respective vehicles. Y/N can't help but let her mind wonder and eyes wander over to the brown eyed goddess she had met earlier. "You're staring again" Sam says "Can't Help it" Y/N replies. This makes Sam stop dead in her tracks as Y/N kept walking trying to keep her facade of being smooth as fuck under control. "Come on Sam, We are riding in Y/N's Car" She hears as is grabbing her arm and leading the way.

"Damn Y/N/N, when can I get a ride in that" Chad Says while looking at her car. She had recently purchased an Inifinti Q50S, it was painted titanium grey with an all black interior to match her rims. "Must be nice to have mommy and daddy get you everything" Sam sneered to no one in particular but Y/N heard it. " I don't have a mommy and daddy to do anything for me. This is NIL money, baby" Y/N retorted. "NIL?" Sam questions.

"Name, Image, Likeness." You, Y/B/N and Chad all say in unison. "Y/N is the best sports media journalist Blackmore has ever seen. She built media platform and gave the athletes here a voice" Chad Explains. Truth be told Y/N was glad nobody double back about the "no mommy daddy" comment because she didn't have the mental or emotional capacity for that tonight. "Alright, can we go now? I just played my ass off, I'm hungry and a little horny" Y/BF/N groans closing the car door as her and Tara climb in the backseat. "Guess that means you're riding shotgun Sammy" You tease. " Call me that again and I-" "Yeah, Yeah, save the threat. We both know Tara won't let you" Effectively cutting Sam off and starting her car.

Sam refused to admit but Y/N was actually pretty decent and before she knew it her mind was clouded with thoughts of Y/N. The way she would easily slip in and out of traffic, never breaking too hard or go too fast for Sam or the other two sucking face in the back to feel unsafe. Sam found herself now being the one to stare at the girl and my god was she glad Y/N was focused on the road. Under the glow of the city lights and the ones slightly illuminating the inside of the car Sam got lost in her side profile, with Y/N hair now pulled back she had a chance to examine the other features she may have missed earlier like the one dimple Y/n on her right cheek, the small scar above her ear that traveled down to the base of her hairline. The way Y/N's nose was the perfect slope from this angle.

"You're Staring" Y/N says glancing over at Sam when she stops at a red light. All Sam can do is open and close her mouth like a fish having just been caught doing the same thing she threatened Y/N for doing previously. The soft hum of the engine and music fill the rest of the car ride as the girls make their way to the " Carpenter Habitat" as Y/BF/N calls it.

As the car pulls up in front of the apartment building, Tara begins begging Sam to let Y/BF/N sleepover and much to her surprise she gives in not before giving a stern "door open or living room" option with no room for rebuttal. Sam then looks to Y/N as if she was going to say the same to her but Y/N is quick to correct. "I won't be staying, Gonna head back to the kitchen and get prepped for the dinner service happening tomorrow. You kids have fun" Y/N states looking at all three of them while leaning on her car and lighting a joint. "Wanna finish this off before you go up?" Y/N says to Y/BF/N who looks over at Tara for the go-ahead. "Fine, but just one and you better shower again" Tara directs at Y/BF/N. After kissing Tara, Y/BF/N walks over to your car and takes the lit joint from you. Tara and Sam begin to walk inside and up to their shared apartment where they both watch Y/N & Y/BF/N smoke and interact like predators hunting prey.

"You sure you don't wanna stay?" Tara yells down to Y/N after the smoke session has ended and Y/BF/N has made it safely inside and upstairs to her girlfriend. "Yeah, I'm sure. You and Y/BF/N deserve some time together after that game she played" Y/N says with a knowing smile. Y/BF/N needed her "Tara Time" after long days or hard games and who is Y/N to stop that.

Before getting in her car, Y/N spares one last glance to the balcony Tara was just on only to see the older carpenter staring back at her. With a small smile and a wave Y/N bids farewell to Sam "It was nice meeting you tonight..Sammy" "Likewise Y/N" Sam replies softly watching as Y/N slips into her car and disappears in the city traffic.

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

AN: this is my first time writing something like this so pls bear w meeeeeeeeeee. if you have any suggestions on how the story line should progress, critiques, etc feel free to lmk!

any ideas on what to name the fic? submit themmmmm

[i-am-church-the-cat]

Okay so sorry for this ask. I just had this random thought blurb and wanted to share with someone. But like imagine:

Lando decides to suggest to Oscar that it would be funny if they get married in Vegas. Cause like that would be hilarious. Except Oscar looks him dead in the eye and says “I can’t, I’m already married” before walking away.

So of course Lando has a major freak out trying to figure out who he married and ropes the whole grid in the search. There is a strong rumor it’s Daniel (which Daniel started cause it’s funny). There is also the rumor that is Taylor Swift (that’s Este trying to annoy Nando). And of course there are suggestions of Fred, Liam, and even Arthur (which Pierre and Charles’s shut down right away because they would have to kill him).

And everyone keeps asking Logan if he knows and he just keeps laughing it off. But he’s also it’s a sad laugh because he’s a little sad to thing that nobody thinks he could be worthy of Oscar, even if he agrees.

And of course this pisses Oscar off. Because his husband is the sweetest man around. Because who the fuck cares if he is having a bad season when he is always there to make sure Oscar does things like eat breakfast or makes sure he isn’t too hard on himself.

So when the grid decides to do a group breakfast the morning after in Vegas (to compare horror stories). Oscar marks the shit out of Logan as they show up with their wedding rings.

Anon, never apologize for being the smartest motherfucker in the room. As a secretly married loscar truther, I am in love with this. And you’re always welcome to come in my messages or my ask box with stuff like this.

I can imagine Oscar being so smug at that breakfast. It’s his ring around Logan’s finger, it’s his marks on Logan’s body, it’s him who gets to keep bringing waffles for Logan to devour in record speed.

And I think the reason no one suspected it could be Logan Oscar was married to is because they would’ve known, right? Surely they wouldn’t have been able to keep it a secret for 9 months?

(Well, Alex and George had known pretty quickly who it was but they weren’t going to spoil the surprise.)

But even now with them both declaring themselves to each other for all of them to see, they barely act any different. Small touches, leaned in whispers, pressed as close together as two people could in opposite chairs, but still completely level-headed.

And finally Lando snaps and is like “How? How are you two so calm around each other? If I had a partner on the grid, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of them.”

Oscar shrugs and Logan laughs awkwardly and even now they’re like twin planets - always together but never crashing.

“We’ve been together for a long time,” Oscar answers which, they would hope so for the youngest married couple on the grid. “And most of that time it’s had to be a secret. I guess we’re just used to it.”

“Plus, neither of us are big on PDA.” A rather ironic thing for Logan to say while covered in bite marks and red-purple hickies. “We like to keep our private life private.”

And suddenly Lando feels bad because maybe they had never planned on coming out to them, or at least not so soon, but Lando had practically forced their hand because of his little goose hunt. But Logan smiles understandingly at him and is quick to reassure.

“Don’t worry, we were planning to tell people on the grid sooner rather than later, probably when my contract extension was announced, if it’s ever decided.”

Oscar makes a face at that but doesn’t interrupt.

“We just chose now because…” And suddenly Logan gets this look on his face, something pained and almost embarrassed. Oscar tangles their left hands together to stop him in his tracks, proudly displaying their matching rings before continuing.

“None of you thought I could have the honor of being married to Logan - hurtful, by the way, I’m obviously a catch - so I wanted to show everyone who I belonged to.”

Logan blushes a light pink, but he’s smiling. Oscar feels a bit of relief as Logan lays his head on his shoulder, allowing him to turn his nose into the gel-less waves of his blond hair.

The rest of their drivers start to clamor their excuses - you’re too good at hiding it, we thought Logan was dating that Instagram model, actually you’re right you aren’t good enough for my junior Williams driver but you make him happy so I guess it’s okay (this one is of course from George who is met with a lot of boos and biscuit throwing) - but it doesn’t really matter.

Who cares what any of them thought? At the end of the day, Oscar is the one sitting here with Logan Sargeant’s hand intertwined with his, he’s the one that will get to go back with him to their shared apartment, bundle his Florida boy up against the cruel English winter, and indulge in the domestic bliss of being with someone he truly loved.

When one had that, who cared about anything else?

[superm4ks]

not the same anon btw but equally how would u rate osacarino's season / much-talked-about potential? i rmb u did a post on it a while back and curious if/how that's changed... and whether enough time has passed for that view to evolve with the incoming rookies as well (tho we don't really know how they'll drive yet)

Have posted a lil bit on pistachio here and here unless this apps god forsaken search function is back to sending content to the shadow realm. Tbh my opinion on aussie xanax ad hasnt really changed. I think I peaked when I called him 'kimi raikkonen wid a button nose' ((even tho Kira took sum offense to that because apparently Oscar is not like completely detached from his garage and engineers like Kimi was)) but dynamics or politics aside focusing in his wheel and pedal work bro Im sorry I think I'm cash money wid that. Above average quali laps, inconsistent tire management that either makes or breaks his weekends, random flashes of generational wheel if he's squeezed too much on a bad day. Hes literally Raikkonen. Ferrari Raikkonen even. Shits a huge compliment. Idk why its not being taken as such. What made Oscarina such an interesting competitor right from the start was that unlike most rookies he seemed fully aware of the game he was playing and to this day he still holds his cards super close to his chest. This whole mess Mclaren did of Landitos Baby's First wdc surely must've fucked wid his position inside the team somehow, but if it did we haven't heard a peep about it. Like he accepted the role Zak and Stella proposed, signed the papaya peel and watched the team rise and fail to meet the challenge wid lil to no actual stakes in the matter. Maybe those early 'veteran drives' from last year that had us all gagged were not all that impressive and just a sad indictment of the level of f1 rookies we'd been subjected to up until that moment. Rookies ARE meant to make mistakes, push too much or too little, spin on their own, get hate crimed by Croft if they're from somewhere wid good dental care. Looking back to Oscars 'mature' drives now I gotta wonder if thats not just a smart kid fully aware of the type of grid hes driving against and isnt too bothered to work on his long runs just yet. Listen. Wid respect. He absolutely has to work on his long runs. Over 1 lap hes better than the h2h numbers wud suggest but some of those stints especially in classic layouts were just shocking. The whole point of being Mark Webbers ghost was that Oscarina wud not be left to rot in Lando's shadow. Mclaren definitely derailed the dudes season a bit wid their bullshit, but a lot of it is shit hes gotta start fine tuning and quick. Like tell ur quirky white mom to get off social media, stop trying to get adopted or whtvr tf, u literally told Alpine to fuck off on twitter and nobody even moved because u have the aura of the shooter for Turkey at the olympics except higher and somehow less hinged like leave the disney shit to Lando and just fucking lock in

[musical-shit-show]

“i fucking love you.” “hang up, and tell me this when you’re sober.” Dewey Finn x reader angst? Can go either way. I love ur work so much onh my goodness I can’t get enough

modern idiots

Pairing: Dewey Finn x Reader

Inspiration: Prompt #3 (“i fucking love you.” “hang up, and tell me this when you’re sober.”) from Prompt List 1

Warnings: Cursing, drinking, suggestive dialogue, mutual pining, angst, fluff at the end

Word Count: 2,200

Author’s Note: So, I’m actually embarrassed at how long this took. I think I just hit a wall at soooo many points, but I’m hoping the end result is what the original requester had in mind. Thanks everyone for their patience. I know I’m not the most consistent poster, but I hope to take the next few months to write more and redo my layout to make my masterlist a bit more streamlined. As always, check out my about me page and prompt lists if you’d like to submit an ask. I’d love to get a BJ ask out before the end of spooky season, but unfortunately, I’m drowning in Halloween activities. But definitely stay tuned and enjoy!

“So,” you heard a flirty drawl come from your phone speaker, “Got any fun plans tonight? Maybe…a hot date?”

You snorted a laugh as you surveyed the scene in front of you: a large bowl of popcorn, fluffy blanket draped across your lap, Sex and the City playing on the TV at low volume.

“Oh yeah,” you replied sarcastically, “I actually have a line of suitors out the door just waiting to ask for my hand. It’s all very Regency era.”

“I’ll just pretend I know what ‘Regency era’ means and say…good for you, babe,” Dewey said, making another giggle escape from your throat.

Nobody made you laugh like Dewey Finn. He was your best friend and more recently, your best fuck buddy. You swore you’d never get yourself into a situation like this, but with Dewey it just felt so…easy. Natural.

And if you were spending your time fucking him, you’d have less time to stop and think about how hopelessly in love you were with him. Definitely not the easiest predicament to get yourself out of, but at least it involved good sex.

“Remind me to force you to watch Pride and Prejudice sometime,” you mused, popping a few kernels of popcorn into your mouth, “We need to get you educated, Finn.” Now it was his time to laugh, and you felt your heart flutter as his rich chuckle filled your ears.

“Well, maybe I could come over tonight to get some…tutoring…” he probed. You could practically hear his smirk from the other side of the phone line.

You quickly remembered how disheveled you looked. Even though he was your best friend, Dewey was still a man; And you knew all too well how superficial men could be, no matter how well they thought they knew you.

“Eh, I don’t know,” you said, running your fingers through your hair that definitely should’ve been washed the day prior, “Maybe sometime later this week? I haven’t showered today and—”

“Perfect, I haven’t either,” he cut you off, “We can shower together.”

This motherfucker.

“Very smooth,” you considered. But you couldn’t give in so easily. You knew every time you slept with him, the harder it would be to repress your feelings.

Dewey waited on bated breath. He wanted, no, needed to see you. Not because he had grown accustomed to a consistent booty call, as nice as the arrangement had been.

No, he was finally going to tell you how he really felt.

That he loved you. And way before you had ever shared a bed; he thought maybe he had loved you from the first moment you met. Which sounded unbelievably cheesy every time Dewey thought about it.

But it was true. He was sure of it.

He just felt like the biggest idiot in the world for not telling you before landing in this mess. The no strings attached, friends with benefits kind that you had both agreed on.

It’s what you wanted. And for a while, he tried to convince himself that it’s what he wanted too. That it would just be enough just to hold you, touch you, kiss you.

But Dewey, despite his best efforts, was a romantic. Even if you rejected him, at least he’d put himself out there. The thought was terrifying, but he couldn’t stand the torture anymore. All he needed was for you to actually agree to see him.

“I just don’t think tonight is a good night, Dew,” you said finally. He furrowed his brow. You had never passed on a hangout, not even before you two had started hooking up. He tried to ignore the knot forming in his stomach.

The line was silent for a noticeably long beat. “You still there?” you squeaked, wondering what was up with him. Surely, he could wait a couple days? Maybe that would be enough time for you to get your shit together and act normal.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah, yep. Still here, sorry,” he muttered, “It’s fine, I’ve actually been meaning to go out with Ned anyways so…I’ll text ya.” The disappointment laced in his voice made your heart hurt.

“Dew, I’m so—”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” he cut in before you could properly apologize, “I, uh, gotta go.” And then the line went dead.

You felt your guilt wrap around your heart and constrict it like a python. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see Dewey per se, but you didn’t know how to be around him any more without spilling your guts and confessing.

And the thought of being rejected and losing his friendship was too much to bear. If suffering in silence was the way to keep him in your life, you’d happily take that torment.

Getting up from the couch, you swung open your fridge and eyed the two unopened bottles of wine you had bought weeks earlier. You quirked an eyebrow to your empty apartment, Carrie Bradshaw still monologuing from your living room.

Maybe you wouldn’t be as tormented after a few glasses.

~oOo~

Dewey didn’t feel like drinking. The bar was too loud, the patrons were too preppy, and the beer he was nursing was too expensive.

He made a mental note to never let Ned pick the going out spot ever again.

It had only been a few hour since he last spoke to you, but he had been absentmindedly checking your contact in his messages the whole night. He wanted to text you and apologize for acting weird, but he couldn’t find the words.

He couldn’t escape the sinking feeling that you had lost interest in him; It tore him up inside to think that you didn’t want to see him anymore, or worse, had found someone else.

He could’ve kicked himself for letting your friendship become anything more without him telling you how he really felt. He was a coward, and now the thought of losing his best friend made his stomach turn.

Dewey’s shame spiral was interrupted by his phone buzzing incessantly.

It was you.

And his heart nearly jumped out of his chest.

“Hello?” he answered tentatively, rising from his barstool to find a quieter place to talk to you. He found himself running outside, the late summer air still percolating with humidity.

He heard you giggle on the other end, followed by a snort. A snort.

You never snorted. Unless you were drunk.

“Heyyy Dewey,” you drawled. You had already finished your first bottle of wine and had just opened the second. Which meant you were feeling very bold and very honest. “How’s your night going?”

Dewey couldn’t help but let a small smile flit across his face. Even when you were very clearly smashed, you still managed to be polite.

“Uh, it’s going okay,” he said, glancing back towards the door to the bar, “Definitely not as good as yours sounds.”

“Andwhat’sthatsupposedtomean?” you slurred, eliciting a laugh from Dewey. You could feel the confession rising in your throat, burning like bile.

“All I’m saying…” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “is that you seem like you’re really enjoying your night in.” He couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt; Maybe if he hadn’t been so short with you, you wouldn’t have been self-medicating alone in your apartment.

You groaned into your throw pillow, unable to fight the urge any longer. “I’m sad.”

“Why are you sad?”

“Because, I fucked it up. I fucked us up,” You felt salty tears sting in your eyes. It wasn’t like you to be the drama queen, but wine always made you a bit weepy.

He sighed. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” Dewey said gently, feeling even guiltier for being so pissy earlier, “I’m sorry. I just…really wanted to see you tonight. But there’s always other nights.”

A small sob caught in your throat at the statement. Though you were happy to know he wasn’t going to kick you to the curb, the weight on your chest wouldn’t let up until you told the truth.

“I-I know,” you sounded so pathetic, but there was nothing you could do to stop yourself. “You’re just…Dewey, you’re my best friend. And I-I was scared, but I’m not scared anymore.”

Dewey shook his head. He really shouldn’t be taking you at your word when you were plastered like this. “Look…you don’t have to do this.”

“But I do, Dewey. I fucking love you.”

He didn’t know what to say. He just knew he couldn’t hear that from you right now, not when you might not actually mean it.

He took deep breath and hoped he was making the right choice. “Hang up, and tell me this when you’re sober.”

Your stomach sank as you heard the piercing beep beep beep that indicated the end of the call.

~oOo~

Dewey shuffled into his apartment hours later, leaving Ned behind at the bar with the rest of his friends. At least one of them was having a good night.

After hanging up with you, he tried, really tried to take his mind off of what you had said. But he couldn’t. Every time his thoughts lingered, your words played on a loop over and over.

I fucking love you.

It didn’t seem real. It almost felt like a prank, though he knew you could never be that cruel. But that nagging feeling told him that it was just the alcohol talking, and that you’d call him up tomorrow for a very awkward conversation.

He sighed heavily, switching the TV on to distract himself. His calloused fingers drummed on his knee rhythmically, a nervous tick he had picked up after years of band practices and rock concerts.

He contemplated grabbing another beer from the fridge; he wasn’t even a little buzzed, but maybe taking a page out of your playbook would act as a temporary cure to the unease he was feeling.

His thoughts were again interrupted by his phone buzzing.

You again.

Only this time, he contemplated letting the call go to voicemail. He wasn’t sure how drunk you’d sound on the other end, especially after he ended your last call so abruptly.

With a deep sigh, he picked up. “Hello?” he answered hesitantly.

“Hey,” you replied. To Dewey’s surprise, you sounded stone cold sober. “Can we talk?”

He felt his entire body tense.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, we can. You sound…better?”

You couldn’t help but snort a laugh. Your head was pounding, your stomach was churning, and your eyes were watering from embarrassment. “Yeah, never better,” you deadpanned.

You couldn’t help but gulp, swallowing your shame. “I’m uh, actually here,” you stumbled awkwardly, “Like, at your place.”

Before you could even think of what you’d say next, Dewey’s door swung open and he stood in front of you, wide-eyed and clearly shocked at your presence.

You both stood in a rigid silence for a moment, unsure of what to say given what had transpired earlier that evening.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” you squeaked.

He couldn’t help but give you a once over, a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Running his fingers through his dark brown hair, he blurted the first thing that came to mind.

“Did you mean it?”

You blinked stupidly. “Did I mean it?” you had to repeat his question just to let it sink in.

“Yeah,” he doubled down, “Did you actually mean it when you said you loved me? Or was it the booze talking? Because honestly if it was the booze talking, I’d completely understand, I mean shit, I say things I don’t mean all the time when I’m hammered, just ask Ned—”

“Dewey—”

“—I mean seriously, I was being such a fucking jackass earlier, but it’s only because I’d never thought you’d be into me the way that I’m into you, and—”

“Dewey!” you said again, finally cutting off his rambling, “Breathe.”

He took a shallow breath.

“I meant it,” the words tumbled from your mouth, “I love you. And I’m sorry that it took me getting completely shitfaced after our fight for me to finally tell you. I really was scared of losing whatever we had, and I totally get it if you don’t feel the same way and—”

“Now I gotta shut you up, babe,” Dewey said, his voice smooth despite his cheeks being flush.

He grabbed your waist and pulled you towards him, placing a surprisingly gentle kiss on your mouth. You had kissed Dewey hundreds of times since you began hooking up, but there was something different about this one.

It felt like he wasn’t holding back anymore, and neither were you.

Just as you started to deepen the kiss, he pulled away. “And if it wasn’t obvious, I love you, too. And I really am sorry for tonight.”

Your heart swelled at hearing him reciprocate, and you threw your arms around his neck. “I’m sorry, too. I guess we were both being idiots, huh?”

He nodded, and you giggled. “Maybe…we could make it up to each other? Say, right now?”

You smirked, and kissed him one more time for good measure. “That’s the best idea you’ve had in months, Finn.”

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

thanks for reading! as always, like/comment/reblog if you enjoyed!

:)

[imsodishy]

Fic Stats Meme

Rules: Give us the links to your fics with the most hits, second most kudos, third most comments, fourth most bookmarks, fifth most words, and your fic with the least amount of words.

thanks for the tag @grey-sides and @callieb 💜

Most Hits: Act like it (Hits: 3,673) Harringrove, post season 2 autistic Billy Hargrove, slow burn, T

Billy has a tone problem. Billy has other problems too.

Second Most Kudos: Relationship Chicken (Soup) (Kudos: 238) Harringrove, AU, sick fic, fuck buddies to boyfriends, T,

Steve’s not being clingy. He’s not. Billy going radio silent for four days isn’t even weird. It hadn’t even pinged on Steve’s radar. Was Steve sulking at home waiting for his phone to ring? That’s nobody’s business.

Third Most Comments: Piggyback (Comments: 19) Billy and Max, Gen, A different take on the Memory El saw in Max's head in the finale

Skating at the drainage ditch is a compromise. Max would rather be at the arcade, but she’s not allowed there unsupervised and Billy has to babysit her today, but he wants to be out in the sun like all the time, like he’s a lizard or a cat or something so her Mom suggested this as a compromise.   

Fourth Most Bookmarks: Good Times Gone, and You Missed Them (Bookmarks: 22) Billy thinks he's tracked down his mother, but he actually finds a half brother, Gen, background Harringrove

It's a smallish house, not exactly run-down, fading buttermilk yellow paint. It's got a porch slapped on the front of it that looks like a later addition. There's a carport, but no car.  Billy's been loitering in the walkway long enough for it to be suspicious to anyone watching so he hustles up the path. The last thing he needs is some nosy neighbor calling the cops on him. 

Fifth Most Words: Surf, Sun, and Sirens (752 words) Harringrove, T, Steve on vacation rescued by a siren.

Drowning is a lot different than Steve expected. There’s way more sunshine for one thing.   Not that he's spent a lot of time thinking about how he might plausibly drown, but there were moments (drunk the quarry, drunk at lover’s lake moments mostly), where it seemed like a possibility. So, stone cold sober, on vacation in California it's a bit of a surprise.   Not as big of a surprise as the mermaid though.  

Least Words: Maybe Christmas, Perhaps... (326 words) teeny tiny little Harringrove Christmas ficlet

“Wait,” Billy says, looking right, left, and out the back windshield just to get his bearings and make sure he’s not crazy, “We’re going the wrong way.” “That would be true,” Steve replies, “If we were going to my place.”

no pressure tags: @lazybakerart @ariesbilly @ghostlynimbus @robthegoodfellow @ anybody else!

[norcalbruja]

Part one of Spooky Season Ending: Turkey sighting and another small winning ticket

Content warning: Lots and lots of depression/anger, plus one freaky spiritual injury. Like, really bad.

On the plus side, this week is looking much better.

--

So a couple weeks ago on Saturday (Oct 26) was bad--I screwed up 2 parties' orders for the price of one, by accidentally taking the wrong order of sliders to a different section. See, the parties were right next to each other and they both started out with trays of sliders, BUT one of them did not need a fresh tray of sliders.

I know mistakes happen, but I really hate it when I make them. Not just because of my depression/anxiety--work is still slow right now, so this is essentially a weekend job for me at the moment, and I'm always nervous about getting fired for mistakes I make for my two days a week. Even if that's a VERY long shot--we've kept at least two dead-weight workers who barely did anything for the whole year I was there, and one of them constantly hid in the bathrooms to avoid doing work. They were only fired a few months ago, so I have strong suspicions that they'd only think about firing me, an average worker who does SOME of her job, if they're REALLY desperate.

Naturally, the meditation I had that night was ALSO bad. This is where the content warning about spiritual injury comes in.

--

So I was just venting/feeling miserable with the Water-Spirit, and then Hera came along and started up a talk about, "Oh, honey, you always feel awful. I will reward you with someone who can help you out like he does."

And as I've been constantly having knee-jerk reactions with the spirits about this, I just snapped at her, "NO. SHUT UP, HERA. STOP TALKING TO ME ABOUT REWARDS, OR LIFE GETTING BETTER, BECAUSE IT WON'T. Everyone keeps saying they'll help me out, but Loki is right about all of you! YOU NEVER HELP ME WITH ANYTHING IN THE REAL WORLD! IF YOU WANT TO REWARD ME, GIVE ME SOMETHING THAT I CAN TOUCH AND QUANTIFY! AND PLEASE DON'T TELL ME ABOUT IT, JUST STAY QUIET AND DO IT! I'M TIRED OF GETTING MY HOPES UP FOR SOMETHING THAT NEVER HAPPENS! MY HEART HURTS! SHUT UP! SHUT UPPPPPPPPPPPPP!"

Annnnnnnd that's when I just started freaking out and flailing at her (again). To which the Water-Spirit obviously picked me up and tried to keep me away.

Then Spirit-Me started coughing up blood again, but it wasn't from spiritual "ulcers" this time--that was Spirit-Me's heart giving out and bursting/ripping open.

This happened once, after Loki gave me a (very poorly-thought) suggestion a while before. He told me I was always too high-strung to deal with him properly, and maybe if I got some weed, I could talk to him while I was nice and mellow.

At a friend's party, I got high by eating a weed-cookie. Unfortunately, nobody told me that you shouldn't eat the WHOLE cookie, more like half or a quarter, especially if you're small--like me.

So I easily had a double-dose of weed. At one point I was talking to Loki, and he was unexpectedly happy that I actually called him up while I was high. We had a fairly long talk until I suddenly realized that I'm in my friend's living room, I'm fucking high as a kite, and I bet people heard me CALLING THE GODDAMN WALL 'LOKI.'

Aside from that, it was pretty bearable, but several hours later, disaster hit when my mom and sister came to pick me up, and I was still high as a kite.

That's when my mom and sister started yelling at each other, and I barely remember anything past that point, aside from talking to Loki more and possibly meeting Jormungandr, but I'm somewhat sure the heart-bursting was AFTER I sobered up. Alternately, it was so painful it got me down from my high, at least for a little bit.

I just remember a deep, deep sense of spiritual pain about the world, finding out that Spirit-Me was bleeding everywhere, and Odin had to stitch my heart back up.

Yeah, that ended so badly that Loki eventually told me how this doesn't count. I can go try weed for a redo, whenever I get my own place.

And back to the CURRENT heart-giving-out event: So not only are Hera and the Water-Spirit freaking out because Spirit-Me is (yet again) in frothing, animalistic pain/despair, I am also BLEEDING, and I probably won't hold still for any "first aid."

In fact, when Brighid showed up to help stitch my heart back up, I snapped at her, "GO AWAYYYYYY! I DON'T WANT ANYONE TO HELP!!! IT'S JUST GONNA HAPPEN AGAIN LATER!!!" and I just fucked off to a cave in the spirit-wilderness. I go there whenever I need some REALLY "soundproof isolation, miles under the earth" quiet time, which is often about half the week because, you know... I'm a night-owl who's desperately trying to sleep at a normal time.

So Loki showed up and just laughed at everyone. He was like "THAT IS THE SWEET, SWEET TASTE OF DESPAIR, MOTHERFUCKERS. You guys hate that she's always in pain, but you still can't get off your asses and MAKE HER FEEL LESS PAIN. She's sick of your 'thoughts and prayers' where you try to get her to do positive thinking. She doesn't want you frantically trying to give her all the stuff she's been asking about for years--because it's not a reward for what she accomplished, it's just damage control at this point. Fuck, she attacks people for even mentioning that, or daring to say that HER LIFE WILL GET BETTER, because all that does is make her hurt.

"She won't even let you heal her! She's like a fucking wild animal in a trap, snapping at people who get too close. What if she just stops talking to you, huh? She's not getting anything from most of you, after all. And even if she stays--because she has a lotttt of fucking attachment issues--do you guys realize that eventually, she won't be able to come back here, even if she wants to? SOMEONE has to do SOMETHING to keep her. And like she keeps begging you, that means REAL help, with REAL things, that change her REAL life. 'Thoughts and prayers' are not enough to keep her in touch with the spirits. Even her whipped Kraken-boy, who does more than you guys with his Regular Husband shit, is gonna have a hard time getting her over eventually."

And I have heard him and several spirits talk about my despair or rage. I don't know how the other spirits see this, but they're always uncomfortable when someone mentions my Deep Rage/Despair, and how it's affecting my spiritual "presence."

Eric Draven can basically smell the anger/hurt on me, and that risks attracting Non-Friendly Spirits.

Odin mentioned once that my spiritual "sight" was failing.

I just don't seem to be in good spiritual "health" at all, for obvious reasons.

So I was just lying in the cave and trying to sleep despite my heart pains. The Water-Spirit found me because, well... it's a cave that I go to a lot, and most of the spirits know "where" it is.

Odin also came around, and he just told the Water-Spirit to hold me down so he could stitch my heart up.

And I'm like "OH MY GODDDDDD, ODIN. IT'S NOT A REAL WOUND. JUST LEAVE ME ALONE. WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?"

He shook his head and went, "Because you need it. Why else?"

--

And Oct 27 started badly as well. My mom asked me to wake up a bit earlier, so we could clean up the kitchen and living room before her friend visited. Mom told her she had some pasalubong (gifts from the Philippines, often food).

Seems straightforward, but Mom also took that chance to tell me everything she hates about my life, my hobbies, how I'm addicted to the Evil Computer, and how I'm generally a failure.

See, I'm bad at doing chores, I'm a night owl, and I don't like office work. That means I'm 1) lazy, 2) doing it specifically to spite Mom, and 3) angering God with how lazy and disrespectful I am, so that's why I'm not getting anywhere in my life.

I finally got fed up and asked her, "If you hate everything about me so much, why did you even have a kid? Why didn't you just get a maid?"

She mistook it for me saying, "Why don't you hire a maid so I can just stay in my room, without listening to your nagging?" but I told her that if she had a kid mostly to take care of her, but she doesn't like anything about them, or the country she raised them in, then she shouldn't have had a kid and wasted all this time just to get a failure like me.

I don't know if she genuinely didn't get that treating your kids like servants has a strong chance of being called out nowadays, or if she does but won't admit it, but she got annoyed and kept telling me to shut up and listen to her lecturing.

After all, she's only doing this because she knows what's best for me. (/end sarcasm)

Now, I hate the rampant individualism in the United States, and how our "independent spirit" is glorified/worshiped, but that sure as hell doesn't mean I like the Philippines' toxic version of "community values" either. A lot of Filipino parents still hold to a view of "my kids (especially daughters) are my retirement plan, and they have to take care of me when I'm old." Then they get mad when the kid DOESN'T end up being a cleaning robot, or a perfect clone of themselves.

Luckily, Mom got distracted because she told her friend she could visit at 10AM, but we waited for an hour and a half before I had to go to work, and Mom figured that she just couldn't come.

On the way to work, I was yet again asking the ocean (and spirits in general) to PLEASE get me out of this dead-end life and get me money and/or an art career, so I can quit my job on my own terms and finally get out of my mom's place.

I also asked Loki, "Fucking hell, I don't want to work today. You think I can get off early?"

And Loki went "SURE, CYBORG, THIS PLACE FUCKING BLOWS."

I got off at 3PM because it was slow today--there was a baseball game yesterday and people were watching at the bar, so everyone's probably hung over from that.

Also I finally found out why sometimes, the bowling alley starts smelling like the ocean. It's because 1) we're literally right by the beach, so 2) our air conditioning takes the sea-odor and just sucks it right inside. It can get REALLY strong, so sometimes my coworkers want to barf, and I'm really glad I have a mask.

So I stopped by a shop to grab my weekly two lottery tickets, and then I went home.

HOWEVER, it turns out Mom's friend came over at about 2PM for lunch.

Mom's friend is also in her seventies, but she's really starting to lose her memory/reasoning skills. When Mom said "You can visit at 10am!", her friend thought this meant, "Norcal's Mom will be getting ready at 10AM, but we can come later!" And... she apparently gave Mom FOUR HOURS to "get ready for visitors." Without even calling or texting to say "Hi, Norcal's Mom, I'll be there at [This Time]!"

No, it doesn't make sense to either of us. Also, this is WAY outside the bounds of the often joked "Filipino Time." One or two hours is fine for larger meetups/parties because those can go on for a while, but half a workday for a basic lunch meetup? REALLY excessive.

Anyway, so Mom asked me to grab her some takeout for dinner. As with many Filipino parents, I think she's just pretending the morning lecture didn't happen, or she figures it's been long enough that I don't care anymore.

I have not forgotten, obviously, but Mom's lectures just really drain me now instead of making me angry/upset. I get angry IN THE MOMENT, but I can't really stay angry anymore because that just wastes my time/energy.

On the way to the restaurant, the cars on the road were stopped by a whole flock of turkeys crossing the street. Turkeys scare me a bit even if I like them, because they're just SO FUCKING BIG. They look like vultures or velociraptors, if you're not expecting them.

Anyway, so I wondered if this was a sign and Loki immediately went "YOU'RE WELCOME! NEW YEAR, NEW LIFE, CYBORG." Now aside from the colonized "Thanksgiving/abundance/gratitude" meanings of turkeys, turkeys have a REALLY varied meaning in indigenous cultures.

[echos-muses]

i love talking about character flaws, i really do. i like criticizing characters and still loving some of them. billy for real sucked but it can’t all be blamed on him. and neil shouldn’t get brownie points for “caring about max” when he doesn’t give a shit about his own kid, and he also very clearly was abusive to max and her mom, too. and y’know what? it ain’t billy’s fuckin job to watch a kid he didn’t make or ask for.

i don’t like billy, really, but i do think it’s unfair to pin the affair thing completely on him when karen was flirting with him while he was in high school. sure, he flirted first, but she was the adult in the situation. i don’t care if he was 18 and it was the times. racism was the times too. homophobia was the times too. i’ve seen way too many people coming at billy but practically nobody coming at karen.

billy is a massive cunt and he doesn’t deserve the fan base he has. he is only liked because he’s pretty. i think it also has a lot to do with the time those seasons came out. had they come out more recently, he wouldn’t have been as liked and defended.

also, jason is a fucking bully, he had no real reason to pick on eddie other than he liked to play dungeons & dragons, he was into rock, and he failed school. jason used people’s names for his own benefit making a speech, so he could get more cheers. and let’s be so real. eddie wouldn’t have ever been able to defend himself. nobody would believe him. people paint him to be a creep but i don’t think that’s the case. i think he’s afraid of graduating, because he doesn’t know what he’s gonna do after. that makes so much sense to me, but maybe i sympathize with him because i struggled a ton in school and still do now because i didn’t plan to live this long, and it’s fair to say, he might not have either.

full transparency; robin, erica, eddie, steve, and dustin are my absolute favorites on the show. and i think it would be really cool if they brought the dnd lore into the show and brought eddie back using it, like a few theories have suggested.

whoever wrote this ilove u

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

Take Me, I’m Yours

(the highest voted options on the poll were ‘Geralt rescues Jaskier from trouble’ and ‘Jaskier riles the Captain up in public’ so I teamed up with the ever-marvelous, stupendously talented @limrx to bring you this Swashbuckling AU oneshot/art piece featuring a horribly jealous Geralt and a frisky, flirty Jaskier)

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

“Do you think he likes me back?” Jaskier asked. He leaned over the ship’s railing to look more closely at the dolphin following behind them. Lambert didn’t think he’d fall overboard but it would be kind of funny if he did. The strange young nobleman did have a way of always landing on his feet, though. 

“I know he does.”

“Well how come he hasn’t told me anything about it, then?” 

“You’ve met the Captain, right? About this tall, long white hair, weird yellow eyes, emotionally incompetant?” 

“You have a good point. Should I just confront him about it?”

“Yeah, sure.” Lambert rolled his eyes before shooting Jaskier a pointed look. “If you want to send your ransom note back to Lettenhove the following morning.”

“Fuck. I just want to kiss him, Lambert. Regularly. I want to know if he snores or not. I want to lay on the deck beneath the stars and talk to him like we’re friends and not just pirate and pseudo-pirate-captive. I really want to see what his ass looks like under those godsforsaken trousers, Lambert, it’s killing me not knowing.”

“You’re more insatiable than a siren during the rainy season,” the second mate teased. “But with fewer teeth.”

“Shut up.”

“Are you going ashore when we lay anchor?”

“Am I allowed?”

“I assume you’ll be allowed. You’re practically part of the crew. You’ve been aboard for nearly two weeks and you’ve pulled your fair share of the weight, if not moreso.”

“Why thank you, Lambert. I appreciate you noticing.”

“Of course, Jaskier. You may be an utter fool and a fop to boot, but at least you’re a hard worker.”

“Asshole.”

“Mhm.”

They both watched the dolphins for a minute in silence before Jaskier’s face split into the most heinous and dastardly grin. It filled Lambert with an unmistakable sense of fear and worry. “I have a brilliant idea. I know how to get Geralt to admit his feelings.”

“No, absolutely not. I am not getting roped into this, you horrible little minx. Don’t give me that look! I won’t help you this time!”

“But Lamby-bert,” Jaskier whined. “If he has someone to take all his frustrations out on in bed then I’m sure it’ll be easier to negotiate for higher shares next time we take a vessel.”

Lambert did not miss the fact that Jaskier said ‘we’ when referring to the crew. The second mate knew the little nobleman was here to stay; it had been clear that Jaskier would be sticking around from the moment Geralt first laid eyes (and hands) on him. The Captain hadn’t stopped looking out for the lad since. Lambert wasn’t even going to think about that singular flirty kiss atop the mainmast nearly a week and a half ago. Geralt had been pining after the acrobatic little idiot ever since and making absolutely no move to flirt back. It was driving the crew absolutely crazy. “Alright, you devilish siren. I’m in.”

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

Jaskier cleaned up nice.

And he deserved to clean up nice. He’d worked hard to put this outfit together. Billy had lent him a pair of dark blue breeches in return for Jaskier’s help with mending the mainsail. The shirt he was wearing was half a size too big, which was exactly big enough for the neckline to plunge even lower than he usually wore it. This way it revealed more of his toned (and rather hirsute) chest. He’d borrowed it from Starkey, who was the same height as him but who had much broader shoulders.

The Captain was going to absolutely die when he saw Jaskier.

He whistled a rather naughty shanty as he exited the bunk room and made his way towards the gangplank where Starkey, Lambert, and Eskel were waiting for him. He spun in a quick circle, arms out to show off his clothes. Lambert and Starkey whistled appreciatively and Eskel hid his face in the palm of his hand. “Ready, boys?”

“Absolutely not,” Starkey smiled. The first mate standing next to him tilted his head back to look at the sky, sighing deeply.

“Are you sure about this? What if the Captain tries to kill Lambert?”

“He won’t be killing anyone. Hopefully. If he does run his sword through anyone, it will most likely be me,” Jaskier joked. “Now, this is my first time drinking with real pirates. Anything I should know?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Eskel suggested. Lambert bit back a laugh and Starkey snorted.

“Impossible.”

“Well then, let’s go.”

The four men made their way down onto the docks and through the sparse crowd of sailors and merchants still mingling in the evening light. Starkey led them to a decent tavern and found a vacant corner table, which gave them an excellent view of the door.

Geralt and Starkey had spent the morning selling their stolen cargo to various merchants, shopkeepers, and artisans. The Captain had divided up the gold between his crew according to their various contracts and Jaskier, more as a jest than anything else, was given two crowns as well. “For not dying,” Geralt had intoned seriously. The men were amused but Jaskier’s face had gone bright red with embarrassment. The young noble had talked them out of trouble with the Skelligan patrols twice last week and Geralt was repaying him with public humiliation? Lambert knew that the Captain’s earlier actions were about to make this evening a lot more entertaining (if slightly uncomfortable) and he was ready to get this show on the road. He flung an arm around Jaskier’s waist and ordered them all a round of ales.

“So everyone knows what the general goal here is, right?” Jaskier clarified.

“Yes,” Eskel nodded. “You’re using Geralt’s jealous nature to make him act on his less than subtle feelings for you.”

“Correct. Wonderful.”

Lambert squeezed the noble’s hip through his borrowed pants and Jaskier huffed indignantly in reply. Starkey chuckled softly at their antics and winked at the barmaid when she brought them their drinks. “Can’t wait, really. It’s been so boring lately and the last two ships we took didn’t even fight back. This is drama. This is entertainment!”

“Shut up, Starkey,” Jaskier pouted. He leaned back into Lambert’s embrace and gulped down half his ale.

“Slow down, kid,” the first mate teased. “Or you will be drunk when he gets here and your plan won’t work.”

“I need to get the pink in my cheeks or I’ll look suspicious,” Jaskier argued. “One ale should do it without getting me tipsy. Maybe two if it’s weak.”

“Method actors,” Lambert rolled his eyes.

Jaskier was sipping slowly at his second ale and the other three pirates were on their fourth or fifth when Geralt finally came barreling through the tavern door. “There you are!” Eskel shouted, waving the Captain over. Nobody missed the barely-hidden glare Geralt aimed at Lambert’s arm where it rested against the nobleman’s lower back.

“Captain,” the second mate nodded.

“Lambert. Eskel. Starkey.” Geralt greeted them all in turn.

“Heyyyy,” Jaskier whined, leaning forward against the edge of the table and pouting. “What about me, sir?”

“You.”

“Rude,” the brunette huffed. Lambert ran a lazy hand up and down his spine and Jaskier watched as Geralt’s eyes narrowed into slits. He sighed sadly and melodramatically into his mug and nodded once in the second mate’s direction. “Thank you, darling. At least someone in this crew likes me.”

Starkey saw Geralt’s eyelid twitch and slid Eskel two crowns under the table to settle their bet. He thought the vein on their Captain’s throat would show up before the eyelid went, but it must have been the first mate’s lucky night this time around. “Hey Eskel, let’s see if any of the lovely ladies here want to dance with us, eh?”

“You coming, Captain?” Eskel asked. “Seems like Jaskier and Lambert are a bit busy.”

“Yes, Geralt,” Jaskier egged him on. The Captain had a white-knuckled grip on the handle of his mug. The noble took a long swig of ale and licked a bit of foam from his lip when he was finished, noting the way Geralt’s eyes locked onto his mouth. “Why not go dance with a pretty lady. Certainly nobody else has your attention.”

The pirate Captain finally snapped. He slammed his mug down and reached around the table to grab Jaskier around the waist. He hauled him out of the second mate’s grip and onto his feet. “Captain, what are yo-”

“Yer coming with me, siren,” Geralt snarled. Lambert relinquished the nobleman with very little fuss, winking at Jaskier as the pirate Captain swung him up and over his broad shoulder. The young man flashed all three of his co-conspirators a thumbs up as he was carried out of the tavern like a sack of potatoes.

“A little rude to Lambert, don’t you think, sir?” he asked, resting his elbow against Geralt’s shoulder blade and settling his chin onto his hand. He crossed his ankles to make it easier for the pirate to balance his weight comfortably. “But they’ll be happy to know that our little plan worked out.”

Geralt stopped in his tracks but did not set his captive down. “Your what?”

“Our plan,” Jaskier explained as if bored. “To get you to finally do something about all this sexual tension between us. I kissed you on the mouth for fuck’s sake.”

“I thought it was an accident.”

“Oh, and saving you from hanging at the hands of some Skelligan officers, was that an accident? Not sending a ransom note last time we stopped for water and not turning you in for the reward in Novigrad, were those accidents too? There is a hefty bounty on your head, White Wolf, and I could be living independently in a castle somewhere right now except that I happen to find you endlessly attractive and fascinating.”

“Hmm.” Geralt resumed walking. Jaskier noticed with a smirk that his pace had picked up quite a bit. As if he was suddenly in a hurry to be somewhere.

“Hum dismissively all you like, sir, but you’re still carrying me back to your cabin to ravish me senseless, are you not?”

“Ravish may be the wrong word for what I’d like to do to you, but you do look rather tempting.”

“Thank you. I put a lot of effort into this ensemble.”

“You’re a calculating little nymph, aren’t you?”

“No, of course not. I only managed to secure a bunk aboard the Kaer Morhen and wrap its infamous captain around my finger in less than a month. I am but a silly nobleman with excellent dexterity and a penchant for climbing.”

“Lambert was right to call you a minx.”

“He does love that nickname.”

“It’s not an endearment.”

“Whatever.” The ground shifted and Jaskier knew they were making their way up the gangplank and back onto the ship. This was the part he’d been waiting for! Geralt kicked in his cabin door and stepped inside, turning to close and lock it behind them. Jaskier wriggled impatiently. “Set me down!”

“Hmm, no. I rather like the view from here.”

“Excuse me?”

Geralt gave him a gentle smack on the ass, almost a pat really, and huffed out a laugh at Jaskier’s offended noise. “You’ve been an awful lot of trouble for a nobleman and a captive.”

“I’m barely a captive, Geralt. Give it up already.”

“You haven’t signed the book.” He set Jaskier back on his feet and looped his arms around the younger man’s waist to pull him close. “You’re still a captive until you swear on the book and sign your name next to the others. Then you’ll be part of my crew.”

“I have yet to negotiate for my shares,” the brunette stated. He tilted his chin back, baring his neck slightly and offering Geralt his ale-damp lips. “Ten crowns after every capture and I get to sleep in here with you. That sounds fair.”

“You’re a good worker. Seven crowns, you can sleep in here with me, and you can borrow my bandannas whenever you want.”

“Even the red one?”

“Especially the red one.”

Jaskier’s soft pink mouth brushed against the pirate’s as he murmured his answer: “Deal.”

Geralt’s lips crashed against Jaskier’s with the strength of a wave hitting the side of his ship in a maelstrom. The Captain’s mouth was so warm and his lips moved against the younger man’s with almost frightening determination. As if he was trying to prove himself. His arms were strong around the nobleman’s lower back and his white hair brushed deliciously against the skin of Jaskier’s neck.

“You’ve bewitched me, body and soul.”

“Oh, Geralt,” the younger man sighed, opening his mouth to let the other in. I never thought the word ‘plunder’ could apply to kissing but here I stand, corrected by experience yet again. The White Wolf of the Seven Seas pulled away, made breathless by a young and foolish nobleman in search of adventure.

“I’m not a siren, you know. Not even a little. My family’s estate is landlocked.”

Geralt’s fingers rose from his waist and brushed against his cheekbone reverently. Those amber eyes, so cold and focused when he shouted orders or intimidated a merchant captain, were looking down at Jaskier with such devoted tenderness. The ex-noble felt his heart fill anew and double in size. There wasn’t enough room in his body to hold all of this feeling.

“Kiss me again, Captain. Take me to bed.”

“You’re too good at tempting me. You must be evil.”

“I assure you,” Jaskier smirked, ripping Geralt’s shirt over his head in one smooth movement. “I am.”

[arrowflier]

Thank you for brightening my day with your stories. I always look forward to checking out your blog. Here's a prompt for you: S10 and 11, but Fiona is there and never left Chicago. How does the story change? Does she calm things down or cause more chaos? How does she get along with newer characters Tami (who she only knew a little) and Sandy? How does she react to Frank's dementia and death? Does she use her landlord skills and make Lip sign a damn lease before renting on a handshake deal?!

There's so much potential with this, but I just picked a few short scenes from season 11 to try and get a vibe!

--

“He can’t just kick you guys out,” Fiona insisted, following Lip through the house. He skirted the edge of the sofa on his way to the kitchen, and she almost ran into it. Only years of muscle memory and navigating her home in the dark—unpaid electric bills, drunken stupors, trying not to wake up the kids—kept her from banging her hip against the arm.

“He can,” Lip argued, passing through to the next room, “and he did.” He opened the fridge, looked at the beer cans inside. Closed it again, and got a glass of water from the tap instead.

“Sold it right out from under us,” he said bitterly into the glass. “New owners want us out before they close.

Fiona watched him take a sip, make a face and swallow it. Then she slapped the back of his head, hard, and grabbed the water before he could drop it.

“Listen to me,” she ordered as he scowled, rubbing the injury. She leaned down to get on the same level, face to disgruntled face. “I was a landlord, remember?”

“Not a very good one,” Lip muttered, and flinched back when she raised her hand again. She lowered it when he put his own up in surrender.

“I was a landlord,” she repeated, then paused, lips twisting. “And one of the reasons I’m not anymore is cause of a family of squatters I couldn’t get rid of.”

“And?” Lip asked, eyebrows raised. “The fuck’s that got to do with anything?”

Fiona rolled her eyes.

“Thought you were supposed to be the smart one,” she said dryly, then, “If it was that easy to kick somebody out, don’t you think I would’ve done it?”

Lip frowned.

“I mean, sure,” he said slowly, working through the thought. “But we don’t even have a lease.”

“Neither did they, that’s for damn sure,” Fiona grumbled. She turned to lean back against the counter next to him, shoulder to broad shoulder. Both had held enough wait for a lifetime.

“Doesn’t matter,” she told him. “That you don’t have a lease, I mean.”

She turned her head, looked at him.

“The eviction process isn’t as quick as people think.”

Lip’s brow furrowed as he glanced up at her.

“Are you…” Lip trailed off, started again. “Are you telling me to make him take us to court?”

Fiona smiled.

I’m telling you you might as well fight for it,” she said. “You’re broke anyway; what have you got to lose?”

---

“Can you believe her?” Debbie spit out, slamming the cabinet door shut. She stood, holding a box of cake mix, and set it down so hard on the counter that Fiona’s drink almost tipped over.

“Believe what?” Fiona asked, scooting back just in case. “That she left?”

Debbie glared.

“No, not that,” she said. “I told her to leave, remember?”

“What then?” Fiona took a sip of her beer, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the counter once she deemed it safe again.

“That she just abandoned her kid,” Debbie said. “Left him all alone, no mother, no nothing, just so she could go live a little.”

Oh. Fiona frowned.

“Debs…” she stared, swirling the dregs of beer left in the bottom of the bottle. She looked back up at her sister, down again to shield herself from the heat Debbie let off.

“I don’t think that’s what happened.”

“How can you say that?” Debbie asked, loud, angry. “You of all people know what it’s like to be…to be abandoned!”

Debbie bent down to grab a heavy metal bowl, slammed that down, too. The sound echoed, ringing through the quiet room. By the time it faded, she had too.

“It’s not the same, is it?” Debbie asked quietly, and Fiona shook her head.

“No,” she answered, just as soft. “No, it’s not.”

“Guess I should talk to her,” Debbie whispered, flat. Defeated.

“Probably,” Fiona agreed, then stood.

“Spend some time with Franny, first,” she suggested on her way toward the stairs, looking back in time to meet Debbie’s eyes as she lifted them.

“You’ve done a good job with her, you know,” Fiona said, and smiled. “I’m really proud of you”

And then she walked up the steps, and left Debbie to her thoughts.

---

“What—Mickey?” Fiona asked, passing her brother’s husband in the doorway. He was scowling, shoulders squared, stomping through the door and outside.

“You’re brother’s an asshole,” he answered shortly, and then he was gone.

Fiona watched him go. Then she went straight through the house, and out the back door, to where she knew Ian waited.

Sure enough, the door opened onto his stiff back, and she slipped out without a word. Sat down next to him, there on the stairs, and stole the cigarette from his hand.

“Thought you were trying to be healthier,” she asked, taking a long drag.

He reached for it, and she passed it back, their fingers brushing.

“Yeah, well,” he said, just staring at the glowing end of the stick. “Not much point in that if I can’t even afford to pay the bills next month.”

That again. Fiona sighed.

“We’ll be okay, you know,” she tried, but Ian waved her off before she could finish.

“We’d be better if he’d get a damn job.”

Fiona nodded.

“Sure,” she said, “we might be.” The filter of the cigarette was burning low, close to Ian’s fingers, so she took it again and threw it under her shoe.

“But are you willing to give everything up on a maybe?”

Ian looked at her.

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged, leaned into him. He was as tall as her, now, and her head slotted perfectly onto his shoulder.

“You’ve got the closest thing to happiness any of us have ever seen,” she said, looking out over the yard. She picked absently at the step she sat on, prying up thin splinters and smoothing them back down again.

“Maybe you should just let yourself have it, for a while.”

Ian was silent. But he reached an arm up around her back, let her in closer. Rested his chin on her head.

“You think so?” he finally asked, so quiet she barely heard it.

She rested a hand on his knee, squeezed it. Breathed out.

“I really do.”

---

“Oh my god, Liam, where have you been?”

Fiona was on him the moment he got through the door, long arms scooping him into a hug so tight she grunted with the effort.

“I was so worried,” she said, pulling back, hands gently but firm as they found his face. “You can’t just disappear like that, Liam, I sent everyone out to look for you hours ago!”

“You noticed?” Liam asked, his young face scrunched, and Fiona shook him, then folded him back into her arms.

“Of course I noticed, you little asshole,” she muttered into his hair, pressing her cheek against springy strands. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Liam shrugged, his shoulders barely moving in her tight embrace.

“Everybody is so busy,” he said. “Trying to figure stuff out.”

“So?” Fiona asked, still holding him, hands smoothing down the back of his hand-me-down shirt. “Why does that mean you get to wander off without telling me?”

“Gotta figure out my stuff too, don’t I?” he answered, quiet, sad, and Fiona let go of him to crouch down. She looked him in the eyes, brushing a hand over his soft hair, and forced him to meet her gaze.

“You’re a kid,” she said firmly. “What do you need to figure out that you can’t come to me for?”

“Where to live, for one,” Liam said, looking away, and Fiona frowned.

“What do you mean?” she asked. “You’ll come live with me.”

His eyes widened, and she hesitated.

“Do you…” She paused, swallowed. “Do you not want that?”

Liam just blinked. Then smiled, bright and relieved, and buried his head down on her shoulder in all the answer she needed.

---

“Hey, You okay?” Fiona asked, coming up behind Carl where he stood staring at Frank’s ashes on the mantel. She put a hand up on his shoulder, rubbed once, twice.

“Course I am,” Carl answered, all swagger and false confidence. “Frank was an asshole.”

Fiona hummed.

“He was,” she agreed. “But he was our asshole. And I know you two used to be close.”

“Nobody was close to Frank,” Carl muttered bitterly. “They just thought they were.”

A beat passed, tense, quiet. Then Carl’s shoulders sagged.

“Not like he was the same Frank anymore, anyway,” he said softly.

Fiona stepped closer, a warm presence at his side.

“Does that make it easier?” she asked. “Or harder?”

Carl shrugged.

“Neither, I don’t think,” he answered, then his face scrunched, the way it used to when his brothers made him think to hard. “Just feel like it’s wrong to still be mad at him, you know? He didn’t even remember all the shit he did, at the end.”

Fiona looked at him, and smiled sadly.

“That’s okay,” she said simply. “I’m still mad, too.”

After another moment, she leaned in, kissed the side of his head.

“Time to get to work though,” she said, “we can be as maudlin as you like when you get back.”

“What’s that mean?” Carl asked, following her into the kitchen, and she laughed as she dug his packed lunch out from the back of the fridge.

“I’ll tell you later,” she said, “but right now, work mister!”

Carl accepted the answer, and his lunch. Then, as Fiona grabbed her keys off the counter, the ones to her new SUV, he said, “I’m thinking of quitting, you know.”

Fiona didn’t hesitate, shoving him toward the door.

“That’s fine,” she said, slamming it shut behind them. “But until them, no brother of mine is going to be late!”

[yslkook]

red card - on the defensive (1)

pairing: jungkook x reader (soccer captain jjk) summary: you and jungkook run in the same circles, and yet after three years, he struggles to get your time of day. you think he’s cocky and he’s going to change your mind. word count: 5.1k warnings: cursing, alcohol/drinking (lots of it), suggestive content a/n: this story is for @cutechim​, it went down in the DM’s and came to life. this is my entry into the blond jk foray!! enjoy<3

red card masterlist

“What should we drink?” Hana shouts over the music to you in the crowd.

“Uh… let’s do jagerbombs,” You shout back, even though you’re both relatively close to each other at the bar. You peer behind you at the group of people you’ve congregated with this afternoon, counting a total of four. 

“Can I have… eight jagerbombs?” You request of the bartender, who raises his eyebrow at you.

“Why am I not surprised,” He says with a roll of his eyes, “You’re all gonna run me dry of my jager.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time it happened,” You mutter. And you’re right- it’s happened at least twice over this summer, when you and your friends made a weekly appearance to this bar. The bartender knows you and Hana by your faces at this point and you’ve jokingly asked why your usual order of jagerbombs or tequila shots aren’t ready upon arrival.

These weekly occurrences were sponsored by your job at a law firm near your university. And by sponsored, you mean that your bank account takes a minor hit on a weekly basis. Since university had let out, you’d made yourself available for as many hours as possible- after all, you needed a way to fund these days and nights out.

While juggling a summer class three days a week for three hours each day.

But you weren’t completely financially irresponsible- you drew the line… eventually. Certainly not after eight jagerbombs though (you’d stopped questioning how you could easily drop that much money on alcohol these days). At least it's summer happy hour and you’re not paying full price.

Besides, you and your friends rotate rounds. Hana will get the next one, and then one of the guys, and so on and so forth. You’d gotten two extra specially for you and Hana, but nobody needed to know that.

You love these summer days, when it’s nothing but you and your friends enjoying the breeze and the vibes of a fun afternoon (that inevitably leads to a night of more recklessness). Nothing can take the tipsy grin off of your face or the arm looped around your best friend’s shoulders, except-

Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, and Jeon Jungkook.  You don’t mind Jimin as much (mostly because of Hana, who’s been harboring a not so secret crush that is definitely bordering more on love than a simple crush on him for who knew how long). But still, when all three of them are together, you make your disdain very known and obvious. At least you think you do.

Some of the star players from your university’s soccer team, and the captain himself, Jeon Jungkook. They walk into the crowded, noisy bar as if they own the place and you can already see heads turning. You roll your eyes and tell Hana to get it together when she starts giggling and waving at Jimin.

Your eyes seem to meet the back of your skull when all three of them saunter over towards you and your friends. It’s not that you have anything against them per se, it’s that you find them as a unit quite annoying and you know of their reputations. Or, you think you know of their reputations. Maybe you’re a little judgmental. But who cares, it’s not any of their business.

Most of your perhaps misplaced vitriol is reserved for Jungkook himself and the few interactions that you’ve had over the last almost four years of being in university together. You’ve had a few general ed classes with him freshman year, but after that most of your interactions were solely at parties and any excuse to celebrate. You had mutual friends (somehow) so it was inevitable that you saw him as much as you did.

Every fiber of him annoyed you- he was cocky and arrogant… Everything you intensely disliked in a person. Hana told you that you were being mean and judgmental (not as nicely), but if it meant not dealing with this boy who got a rise out of you for no reason, then it didn’t matter. Of course, he doesn’t take up space in your mind very often. Only when you have the misfortune of running into him.

You didn’t know him, and truly, you didn’t care to. You’ll remain civil though, only if he doesn’t annoy you. Which you doubt will happen.

Jungkook can sense your iciness towards him and his friends from half a mile away, from across the bar. And the bar itself is pretty big, with an outdoor area and an outdoor dance floor, and two bars inside with tables and booths and a dance floor. Despite the space of the bar, it’s crowded with college students, young professionals, and even older corporate workers who look like they work relatively close to the bar. He knows you and your friends come here often, and if that was why he had suggested to Jimin and Tae that they also come here then that was his business.

He swallows (not nervously). You look so pretty when you laugh, he thinks. He thinks you look pretty all the time, though. He lets his eyes wander to your tight black crop top shirt with cherries printed on it and your high waisted denim shorts. Jungkook’s throat goes a little dry when his gaze reaches your thighs, but he keeps it together somehow. He doesn’t know how, considering how nice that outfit makes your tits look.

“Hey Cherries,” Jungkook says smoothly, “Flattered you got this for me.” And he plucks the jagerbomb that you paid for for yourself and downs it in less than three seconds. 

Your jaw drops. The audacity of this boy.

“First of all,” You narrow your eyes, “Who the fuck is a ‘Cherries’. And second of all, I know you didn’t just drink the drink that I paid for. Right in front of my fuckin’ face.”

“That’s a funny way of asking me to buy you a drink, Cherries,” Jungkook grins, and gazes at your chest for a second too long. You roll your eyes and swat his arm.

“I’m not asking. I’m telling you. I’ll have a tequila shot, pretty boy,” You smirk at him and he smirks right back at you.

“I like a girl who knows what she wants,” Jungkook attempts, only for you to scoff.

“Congratulations,” You say flatly, “You’re lucky I’m not subjecting you to getting me two tequila shots for having to hear that line.”

“You don’t like my lines?” He’s pouty and his eyes are wide, mischief sparkling in them. You dare to think that he’s cute. Apparently all of the boys had dyed their hair blond this summer before the soccer season began and you must admit that it suits him. His hair falls over his forehead effortlessly, small hoops dangling from his ears as he smiles at you.

“Does anyone? Do your groupies?”

“Maybe I’m a little rusty…”

“Oh, I doubt that, Jungkook.”

“Well, you notice whether I have groupies or not, so maybe I’m not so rusty, Cherries,” Jungkook winks at you and you’re tempted to toss your drink at him. But that’s a precious waste of alcohol and perhaps you’re a little dramatic.

You only groan and accept the tequila shot, quickly licking your hand to place salt on and taking a wedge of lime.

“Ready?” Jungkook asks after doing the same.

“How lucky for me, that I get to do shots with our star quarterback,” You say flatly.

“That’s football, Cherries. I play soccer.”

“And I don’t care. Now, take this shot with me.”

As the afternoon blends into evening, you witness betrayal in front of your very eyes in the form of Hana inviting Jimin and his friends with you to the next bar. The ultimate betrayal.

But really, you’ve heard about those soccer boys. At least you think you have. Perhaps you know everything. Perhaps you know nothing at all.

And so the three boys follow you to the next bar as the night goes on. Nearly everyone was at least tipsy by this point, as you had all done a handful of shots following the boys’ arrival at the first bar.

You find yourself thinking that they’re not so bad, when they make you and your friends laugh easily and when being around them feels… fun. 

It’s easy to blame on the alcohol and the darkness of the crowded bar. It seems like everyone is out and about, the streets filled with college students and young professionals looking to unwind and let off some steam.

You love the feeling of the music pumping through your veins, along with the swirl of alcohol. You’re not ashamed of enjoying a drink (or several) and having a good time.

Even if it almost always results in you crossing the line and being hungover the next day.

“Wanna do shots,” You suggest to your circle of friends, eyes landing on Jungkook without you meaning to. Maybe it’s a hidden challenge and he raises his eyebrows.

“Again?” Jungkook says incredulously.

“Don’t be surprised,” Jimin mutters under his breath to Jungkook, “She’s kinda crazy.”

“I’ll take that as a yes… six shots then?” You say cheerily, ignoring Jungkook’s groan. You vaguely recall that Taehyung doesn’t really drink. How considerate of you.

Hana’s arm is slung around your shoulders, a bright (drunken) smile on her face as you pass shots behind you.

The following week, on your usual day of happy hour drinking, Hana presents you with a proposition that has you gasping and gagging, nearly writhing on the floor.

“No, for your information, I do not want to pregame at the soccer house. Thanks for asking, try again later,” You say definitively, pouring Hana a drink.

“Jimin invited us! I wanna see him,” Hana complains and pouts at you, “He said they got good alcohol for the pregame-”

“Jimin invited you, because you both like each other or whatever,” You roll your eyes, “I’m content to drink here alone-”

“We both know you’ll fall asleep if I leave you alone,” Hana says flatly, “Besides, Jungkook asked if you were coming.”

“And what do I care if Jungkook asked if I was coming?” You scoff, taking a long swig of the strong drink in your red solo cup. You cringe.

“He specifically asked if Cherries was coming,” Hana says with a near maniacal grin, “Pretend all you want that you don’t like that shit. Now go wear that top with cherries on it that makes your tits look nice. Quit being difficult.”

In the end, you end up walking the four blocks to the soccer house and you wear the baby pink long sleeved crop top with cherries on it and denim shorts, much to your chagrin (and to Hana’s delight). You’ve only been here a handful of times (maybe two or three) as a freshman for parties and hadn’t been back since.

Everyone knew the soccer house was the place to party to get shitfaced. Usually, the sophomore and junior year soccer players lived in the house while senior year players moved off campus.

You don’t know who currently lives at the house, but Hana quickly fills you in. Apparently Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook lived together off campus (because of course they did).

The soccer house has been part of the campus lore for years. Allegedly, all of the craziest, most reckless things happened at the soccer house and all of the best parties were there. You and Hana never felt that way freshman and sophomore year, instead opting to party hop at the frat houses rather than the sports houses.

How the tables have turned.

“You made it!” Jimin exclaims, outstretching his arms for a hug from you. Which you (awkwardly) return. You need more alcohol to be here, you think.

“Yeah, only ‘cause Hana told me you guys got the good shit,” You say flatly. Taehyung passes a cup of something and you eye it suspiciously but ultimately take a swig of it.

“Pretty good, Tae,” You say, raising your cup to him.

“Oh, I didn’t make that. I’m only the messenger,” Taehyung shrugs with a sly grin, “Jungkook over there did.”

You turn your head, only to find Jungkook staring back at you, lips upturned in a playful grin. It makes you roll your eyes, as most of his antics do.

“Hey, Cherries,” Jungkook greets, standing next to you after a few long strides, “It only took Jimin asking you once to come here, huh? I should be offended, considering how many times I’ve asked you-”

“And when have you ever asked me to party here, Jungkook?”

He only gives you a small smile, almost shy, and it’s a stark contrast from the generally cocky aura that hangs around him. “You just don’t remember.”

You frown a little, wondering what that means. But he gives you another broad smile quickly, shaking you from your reverie. Jungkook leaves you to your devices, being pulled away by some of the younger soccer guys that you hardly recognize. Freshmen? Sophomores, maybe? They look at Jungkook and the older guys with a playful sort of reverence- it’s clear that the team is close even off of the field. 

You briefly wonder what that’s like- having a group of friends like that. Hana’s always been the nicer, more outgoing one out of you both. She’s always made friends easily, with her sweet and genuine smiles. And then there’s you- you struggle to open up to others, always greeting anyone with the sting of sarcasm and holding people at arm’s length.

Sometimes, very rarely, you wonder how you and Hana mesh well together. When she could have a big group of great friends, you used to wonder if you hold her back somehow. It was stupid, and the first time you voiced your insecurity to Hana, she had smacked you upside the head and told you that you were stuck with her.

But still. You can’t help but feel burdensome sometimes. Maybe like you’re too much. Maybe not enough.

Hana pulls you out of your thoughts easily, an arm around your shoulder as she pulls you into conversation with Jimin and a few other girls. 

You down about half the cup of whatever concoction Jungkook whipped up for you and tried to immerse yourself in conversation. There’s a new girl here that you don’t recognize, Sunmi. She’s a transfer and the last thing you want is for her to feel left out. So you make sure to include her in the conversation and ask her questions, too.

Jungkook is not surprised that you don’t remember how many times he’s asked you to come party at the soccer house. Granted, it’s only been a handful of times over the last three years and change. It’s not like you were a stranger- he’s known you through a few mutual classes through the years, and through Jimin, too. After all, Jimin and your best friend have had this weird on and off, together but not together thing going on since the summer before sophomore year.

Maybe one of these days, they’ll get it together. Jungkook loves Hana for Jimin and vice versa- he’s never seen either smile as much as they do around each other. If only they would just admit how much they like (love) each other and put everyone around them out of their misery.

Jungkook thinks it’s a little romantic. Being so in love with someone that labels aren’t needed. There’s something poetic about that.

But Jungkook doesn’t know why you act like you don’t know him at all. You always greet him with a near frown or a roll of your shining eyes.

He doesn’t understand but he pays it no mind, instead turning his focus to the pretty woman eyeing him from the other side of the bar with her friends.

(She’s not you, but it doesn’t matter. Jungkook pushes you to the back of his mind, instead choosing to focus on the velvet heat of the woman in his bed later that night.)

With your shift at the law firm starting at 9 AM the following morning, you decide to remain relatively sober for the night (you enjoy a good time, but you try to draw the line when you can. Though there have been times when you’ve gone to work hungover or possibly even still intoxicated. It happens every so often. You’ve never claimed to be the paradigm of a working college student.)

But also, you don’t really feel like being out tonight to begin with. You do enjoy nights like this, but you also enjoy your quiet time. And it seems like this is one of those nights.

At least someone’s having fun, you think dryly, your eyes glossing over Jimin and Hana. You do think they’d be a great match- if only either of them would make it official. This dance that they’ve been doing for years frustrates you and Hana knows it. You’ve voiced it to her many times but she always says it’s not the right time.

It makes you roll your eyes. You briefly wondered if you should host an intervention and scold Jimin for taking too long- after all, if they kept playing games like this then who’s to say one of them wouldn’t move on? But it seems like they both always gravitate to each other no matter what.

He rotates around her axis and she rotates around his. It’s sweet but Jimin still puts a sour taste in your mouth for a reason that you can’t verbalize into words.

Maybe it’s the company he keeps. 

The music is loud in your ears as you dance with your group of friends, two of them in an impromptu dance off that you inevitably get dragged into. You sling your arm around Sunmi and nudge hips with her, getting her to come out of her shell a little bit and dance with her on the dance floor. She sings to the same songs as you do and gives you a bright, happy smile that you can’t help but return.

You buy a round of beers for your friends before the first yawn comes, not even at 1 AM. Hana looks at you quizzically.

You keep checking your phone for the time. Which in itself is pretty out of character for you. But you just need a recharge before the next outing…..

But you suck it up, not wanting to leave Sunmi by herself. You fight through your yawns and nurse your beer, twirling and swirling around with Sunmi.

And then you start to get hungry. Damn, you could go for some tacos right now.

“Hey,” Sunmi shouts over the music, “Wanna get food?”

“Wow, you read my mind,” You grin and chug your beer quickly. You and Sunmi both settle on the bar across the street (with the best tacos). You turn to find your friends and let them know that you’re heading across the street. Jimin and Hana both nod eagerly, Taehyung does, too.

You debate if you should ask Jungkook if he wants food- after all, it looks like he’s busy with a girl currently sending him sultry heart eyes. 

“Hey, we’re going to get food. Wanna come?” You ask, “You, too.” You look at the pretty girl who looks familiar. She probably attends the same university as you and your friends. 

Jungkook’s ears perk up at the mention of food, even with the girl currently standing in between his legs. She looks wary for a minute and before you can reassure her, Jungkook speaks up.

“Sure. I could go for some tacos,” Jungkook says, “Let’s get some tacos, Nari.”

“Are you sure, I mean I don’t want to impose. We can catch up later, Kook,” Nari says unsurely.

Jungkook will admit, this feels weird for a reason that he can’t place. The girl he’s trying to hook up with for the night getting tacos with the girl he might have a slight crush on. 

Weird. But still, there’s no harm in just having tacos.

“Trust me, you’re not imposing, Nari. I barely even like this guy,” You joke, “I’m just a big proponent of tacos and tacos should never be eaten alone. Tell your friends too, if they wanna come.”

“Hey!” 

You ignore Jungkook to reassure Nari and give her a bright smile. Nari looks at you, and then Jungkook before nodding slowly and returning your smile.

Jungkook walks Nari out with a hand at the small of her back, something you don’t miss as you chat away with Nari about anything and everything.

You even shoot Jungkook a wink when Nari isn’t looking. He groans internally- how poetic. His current crush giving him the approval of his hook up for the night (Nari knew what the deal was).

How incredibly awkward. Jungkook is capable of many things, always adapting to situations. But this is a new one and when Jimin and Taehyung catch his eye at the taco shop, they both give him a derisive smile.

Jungkook can only groan internally and eat his tacos.

Today’s Wednesday night is uneventful- Hana is with Jimin for the evening and they are likely going out with some friends. You had opted out, as you had an early shift at the law firm tomorrow morning. You’ve gone out the night before early shifts and early classes and more than half the time, you regret it the next day.

Does it mean you’ll stop those habits any time soon? Stay tuned.

But today, you just feel tired from a particularly long, difficult morning of class and your half shift that you worked until five PM. You hadn’t felt like cooking dinner (you had taken leftovers to work for lunch) and by the time you finished your homework for your natural language processing class, it was past 9 PM and your stomach was rumbling loudly.

You’ve been craving noodles, dumplings and chicken. So you place an order at the nearby restaurant by your apartment and order some extra for Hana for later or for tomorrow.

It’s only a fifteen minute walk from your apartment to the shop, and you plug your headphones in to begin your walk.

You sway on the heels of your feet as you wait for your food, saying hello to the couple who owns the small restaurant. They know you by face, from how many times you’ve been here. Your favorite comfort food (besides homemade food made by your parents) exists here. Your favorite aromas exist here and even just the smell of noodles and chicken has your tummy rumbling.

“I thought you would’ve been out,” A voice comes from your right side, “It’s the week before classes start.”

You turn your head at the voice, heart startling a bit. What in the world is Jungkook doing at your secret but not so secret restaurant?

“I could say the same for you,” You remark with a raise of your eyebrow, “I heard Jimin and Tae went out.”

You vaguely wonder if he’s still hooking up with Nari but decide it’s not your business to ask.

“Ah, well… I have work tomorrow,” Jungkook shrugs.

“Me too, they want me in at 7:30 tomorrow,” You complain, “What do I look like? A cog in the wheel that is capitalism?”

“Don’t we all?” Jungkook snorts.

“I didn’t realize you were working this summer, too. Thought you were just doing whatever soccer captains do,” You mutter, picking up your order off of the countertop.

“And what do soccer captains do, Cherries?”

“I dunno. Score touchdowns or whatever,” You shrug and laugh at the pained expression on Jungkook’s face, “And stop calling me that, Jungkook.”

“Whatever, Cherries. I’ve been working at this architecture firm as an intern. Figured it would help with post grad.”

“Oh wow, I didn’t know that was your major…”

“You definitely did, I’m pretty sure I’ve told you.”

“When-” You shake your head, not wanting to argue with him, “That’s cool. I’m working at a law firm, it’s about a fifteen minute bus ride from my apartment.”

“You wanna study law? Makes sense, because you always wanna argue with me-”

“No, I don’t really know if I want to go to grad school,” You trail off, “Hey! I don’t always argue with you!”

“You’re arguing now,” He says smugly, crossing his hands across his broad chest that you definitely do not ogle at.

“Whatever, Jungkook,” You roll your eyes, “You here for classes or anything?”

“Nah, not this summer. Just work and soccer,” Jungkook replies, “Gives me lots of time for other things.” The man has the audacity to wink at you and give you a big, bunny grin. You pretend like your stomach doesn’t flutter.

You roll your eyes, again. 

“How about you, Cherries? Any classes?”

“Yeah, I’m taking this natural language processing class three times a week for three hours each day-”

“Wait, you’re a comp sci major?” He asks incredulously, “Why are you working at a law firm then?”

“I’m working half as IT support and half as the intern,” You reply with a shrug, “It pays well and it’s pretty easy. Half of the IT support comes in the form of telling the lawyers to restart their computers for software updates. It’s so funny, you should see their amazed faces when all it takes is a fuckin’ restart. Makes a girl feel smart as hell.”

“Smart and pretty, huh?” Jungkook says with a crooked grin, “Where you been all my life, Cherries?”

“Shut up,” You say flatly, levelling him with a glare that only makes him smirk even wider at you.

“Cute,” He breathes with so much conviction that it almost makes you flustered. You clutch your bag of food a little tighter to ground yourself. 

“Me telling you to shut up is cute?” You raise both your eyebrows, eager to shield him from the heat in your cheeks.

“Among many other things, Cherries.”

“Share with the class then…”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Shut up, and why do you like calling me cherries so much,” You complain, lips jutted out in a pout, “I only wore that top once and now look. You’re referring to me as a delectable, juicy fruit. I mean I don’t blame you-”

“Cherries are my favorite,” Jungkook says, dark eyes swirling with stars. He unnerves you with his raw honesty and sincerity and he lets the implication of his words hang in between you both, your eyes wide by his statement. 

“Well, your taste is questionable because mangoes are very obviously superior-”

You both share a laugh and you’re pleasantly surprised by how the silence that comfortably falls isn’t awkward when you deflect. His name is called shortly after, breaking his intense stare. 

You let out a huff, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

“Hey, I’ll drive you home,” Jungkook says, pushing the door open for you to exit the shop.

“You have a car on campus?” You say, unable to hold back the awe in your voice, “That’s awesome. And uh, no, I mean, you really don’t have to, it’s only a fifteen minute walk-”

“It’s a two minute ride,” Jungkook says, “But I mean, if you’re not comfortable, I get it-”

“No, it’s not that,” You say honestly, “I just don’t want to inconvenience you-”

“You’re not, it’s a two minute ride. Now get in,” Jungkook says reassuringly, opening the passenger side door for you. He puts his own bags of food in the backseat before getting into the driver’s side.

You’ve never really been alone with Jungkook, but for some reason it doesn’t feel that strange. It’s easy to keep conversation (really, it’s banter) flowing with him- as if you’ve been friends for the entirety of the last few years of college. As if you hadn’t spent nearly every waking moment thinking of him a certain way.

He’s easy to talk to. It unnerves you, but you roll with it.

“You should come to a practice one of these days,” Jungkook murmurs. You raise an eyebrow. Why would he ask you to come to one of his soccer practices when you had only just started an acquaintance-ship? Isn’t that crossing some sort of friendship line that you both hadn’t approached yet.

It’s months later when you realize that everything Jungkook does and says is because of his kind, golden heart. He’s such a genuine person, sincerity always dripping from his warm, brown eyes. Everything he does, he does with love.

“Thanks for driving me home, Jungkook,” You murmur with a small smile. It makes his heart sputter in his chest and he easily returns it. “Text me when you get home?”

“If you wanted my number, all you had to do was ask. Cherries,” Jungkook says smugly and you gasp, affronted. “Text me when you get inside your place.”

“That’s not- I didn’t-” You stammer, sighing, “I already have your number, stupid.”

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

“I’m not flustered,” You mutter, cheeks blazing as you hurry to get out of his car. Which coincidentally smells just like him. “Goodnight, Jungkook.”

“‘Night, Cherry.”

You roll your eyes but give him a small wave and a smile before entering your building. 

cherries: I’m inside. Drive safe jungkook: you worried about me? cherries: no im worried about your nice car jungkook: uh huh… gonna leave now, text you when i get home? cherries: 👍🏾

It’s about three minutes later (you barely even have time to wash your hands and change into pajamas) before your phone lights up again.

jungkook: im home cherries: me too jungkook: wow you’re funny cherries: pretty and smart too, according to you jungkook: well i wasnt lying 😍 cherries: Uh huhhhhh

You put your phone to the side to put some of the food on your plate, your stomach still rumbling. You turn on the anime you’re currently watching and get cozy on the couch with a glass of wine.

And in the middle of your late dinner, your wine and your show, your phone lights up with texts from Jungkook. It surprises you that he holds the conversation even when you had given him such a dull response. Isn’t he tired of texting you by now?

He keeps you company through your dinner and you barely are even paying attention to the anime you’re watching, only giggling to yourself over Jungkook’s silly texts-

cherries: you’re so distracting, couldnt even finish this episode of fruits basket jungkook: cute cherries: i cant tell u if its cute, i barely watched it bc of you jungkook: no i meant u. Ur cute

Five seconds go by. Then ten. Your face is heated- you’re glad he can’t see you. Maybe you’ll reciprocate someday. But today is not that day.

cherries: shut up

tags: @kookdbean

[jekacatrina]

can i ask for a number 248. “A mistletoe? Really?” bkdk of course ! (also yes i know it’s august and it’s not even close to december or the winter season at all but something jolly won’t hurt ;3)

C, first of all, sorry for taking so long, I didn't read your ask until today because I didn't want spoilers from the leaks so I ran away.

Second, it's never to early for Christmas fics! You just need Christmas spirit, which I have plenty, so here's a mix of Christmas shenanigans, possessive Deku, little shit Bakugou and dumbass Kaminari, which I love plenty! Enjoy, dearest, thank you for your art and all the light you bring into the Bakudeku fandom!

“A mistletoe? Really?” Katsuki regarded the Christmas hat Kaminari was offering him. In previous years their hats were customized depending on the one wearing it, but this year his was pointy and had mistletoe hanging from some sort of antenna. “I can give you 30 seconds to run as much as you can before I kick your ass.”

 “Listen, this is going to be so funny!“ As usual, Kaminari’s lack of survival instinct was a bother to Katsuki.

“You’re wasting valuable seconds, Dunce Face,” Katsuki interrupted him, palm smoking in warning.

“Kacchan, quit it! Look,” Kaminari pacified him by putting the hat in his back pocket. “This is for the greater good.”

“Hah?” He was concerned enough to pause before blasting his dumb face.

“Okay, so, you’re dating Midoriya, right?”

“There’s no fooling you, is it?” Despite his expression barely changing, Katsuki felt pride filling him with the statement.

Katsuki was dating Deku.

Deku was dating him.

They were dating.

He was such a whipped loser, but nobody would ever know. Well, maybe just the nerd.

“I made a bet with Mina,” Kaminari explained, gesturing wildly. “She says you’re more territorial of him than Midoriya is of you, but I know better,” he winked, and Katsuki frowned.

“The fuck you’re talking about?”

“Come on, I’ve seen the flashes of green when I call you Kacchan.”

“Then fucking stop before Deku punches your lights out,” Katsuki crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe.

“Midoriya would never hurt me,” Kaminari exclaimed, offended. “I just want to see how he’s going to react, I promise, just harmless teasing!”

Katsuki pondered his proposal; on one hand, he made his life mission not to agree to anything Dunce Face suggested. On the other, he was curious how his possessive little shit was going to react. Deku had been clinging to him for years, even before fixing their friendship, and becoming a couple. Sure, the nerd got flustered around attractive people, but he had stated some sort of claim over Katsuki since they were kids, and that unshakable admiration had helped them grow into what they were to this day. Playing with that side of him promised to be a fun development for the party.

“I want half of whatever you betted with Raccoon Eyes,” Katsuki said, extending his hand. “Now, give me the stupid hat.” Kaminari didn’t wait a second before slapping the item on his hand.

“Wait, half?!” he seemed to register the words and made a face. “Can we negotiate?”

“Half, or this shit goes up in flames,” he threatened, squishing the hat, and Kaminari caved.

“Fine, half.”

Katsuki smirked, stepping back into his room, and slammed the door on his face.

“We could at least hang out!” Kaminari yelled from outside.

“That’s what we just did, Dunce Face! Now go away!”

He studied the hat. This could be fun.

----

Upon entering the common room, Katsuki scanned the faces until he located the familiar mess of green curls, partly hidden by the pointy red hat, standing with his regular crew. His didn’t have mistletoe, but a small bone hanging from the tip, most likely a dumb reference to their first months at UA and his lack of control.

When Deku saw him, he smiled softly, eyes warm, and Katsuki did his best to smirk, instead of giving him a moony and dumb smile. He saw the exact moment the nerd realized what was hanging from his hat. He only gave him a baffled expression, and he grinned in disbelief, then Glasses said something and Deku turned to look at him.

That was it? Huh, how boring.

Katsuki searched for Kaminari, saw him standing with Sero and Mina, and shrugged when he glanced at him. Kaminari looked from Deku to him, yellow eyes calculating. He suddenly broke from his group and strode confidently to him. Katsuki was prepared to kick him or blast him away if he got too close, but he didn't need to worry.

Kaminari froze as dark tendrils wrapped around Katsuki’s middle, and yanked him in another direction. He stumbled into a pair of arms he knew better than his own, and met Deku’s gaze, wide eyes full of fake innocence.

“Hey, Uraraka wanted to ask you something,” he said in lieu of an explanation.

“I did?” Round Face said, sharing a look with the Frog chick.

Katsuki tried to face her, testing how far the nerd was willing to go, and Deku didn’t disappoint. He jumped in front of him, taking his wrists and wrapping himself in a hug. They weren’t big on PDA, but they held hands and hugged without caring who was in the room. However, this was different; Deku was short of shielding Katsuki from everyone. Nobody could stand under the mistletoe as long as he stood under his chin.

“Are you for real?” he whispered in his ear.

“What do you mean, Kacchan?” Deku glanced up, and Katsuki huffed, kissing the spot behind his ear.

“Suit yourself, loser.” If the nerd refused to admit what he was doing, Katsuki was going to make him break a sweat before the night was over.

Katsuki broke from his hold, and went to flop down on the couch. He got a lap full of nerd the minute Sero sat by his side. He let Deku be, sliding his arms around his waist to support him, listening to the conversation around them.

He got hungry, so he pushed his boyfriend off him and went to get some foot. Sato passed him a plate, crouching down to his level and offering a turkey leg like he tended to do. Normally Katsuki just took a bite right out of his hand, mostly because he hated getting grease on his hands, but Deku appeared out of nowhere and grabbed the plate, muttering about taking care of it himself.

The night turned into a game; how much Katsuki could stretch his nerd’s patience before he snapped and stuck to him like glue.

Katsuki laughed until he cried when IcyHot leaned close with a confused expression, studying the mistletoe, and Deku accidentally head butted him in the chin in his haste to get between them. He apologized profusely with a flaming face while Todoroki blinked away the white spots in his vision, rubbing his jaw and backing off, and Katsuki lost it.

His favorite was when Kirishima tried to give him a hug. For whatever reason, Deku had been more territorial of him when it came to Shitty Hair since first year, and Katsuki ended up floating to the Christmas tree with his boyfriend grabbing him firmly by the hips, under the pretense of showing him the star adorning the top.

“Are you kidding me?” Katsuki said, smirking and flicking the ornament closer to the tip of the tree.

Deku didn’t reply, just hugged him tighter. Katsuki saw him smile out of the corner of his eye, delighted by the little game. His boyfriend was ridiculous, completely bat shit crazy, and Katsuki loved him so much he wanted to scream.

They left the party when Deku started to nod off on his shoulder, still clinging to him like a koala. Katsuki yelled a general goodbye, and more or less, dragged his boyfriend to his room, accepting the fate of sleeping in the tacky All Might room tonight over the prospect of hauling the many pounds of muscle all the way to his room.

“I’m beat,” the nerd mumbled, resting his face on the doorframe, but not getting in.

“I would say,” Katsuki scoffed, pinching his cheek. “That was some impressive quirk training, idiot.”

“You did that to rile me up,” he accused him, batting the mistletoe away.

“It was Dunce Face’s idea,” Katsuki defended himself.

“He’s a menace,” Deku said, freeing his cheek of his grip, but not letting go. “But so are you,” he turned his head to the side, and nuzzled into the palm of his hand. “Do I get a kiss before bed?” He glanced up, green eyes shining. How he could manage to give him such an earnest and sweet look, then turn around and kick someone in the face without remorse, would forever puzzle and amaze Katsuki.

“I guess you earned it,” he cupped his face, and lowered his mouth to his. 

As he sunk his fingers in the green curls, tipping his face up and deepening the kiss, Katsuki ripped the hat from his head, and blasted a small explosion to get rid of the mistletoe. They didn’t need it.

Katsuki didn’t want to kiss anyone else but him.

----

Thank you for this, C, I've been writing some angst and this fluff was so good for me! Hope you enjoy it!

[honeymoonjin]

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

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

Sick of unsatisfying hookups, boring relationships or the company of your own hand? Apply today for the chance to be on bangasm.com’s very first reality show! Seven attractive young gentlemen will be vying for your choice of who is best in bed. All from different backgrounds, these men claim they’ll be able to rock your world, so don’t hesitate! Apply now!

Congratulations! You’ve been accepted as the Lady in the first season of The Gentlemen.

<- prev || masterlist || next ->

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.

[its-nebula]

V3 Boys x Pregnant S/O in the Killing Game

Warning: DRV3 Spoilers

“S/O is what?!”

He panics and freaks out.

Calms down as soon as you tell him that you’ll get through it with him. It’s just all the more reason to survive.

“But Gonta… no can put child in this hell!”

He has a fire in his eyes that you honestly wouldn’t expect from him. You have to try your hardest to convince him not to fight Monokuma, out of fear of him being punished.

“Gonta will try to survive…for Gonta and S/O’s kid.”

He carries you everywhere from now on, not wanting you to strain yourself. If you ask, he puts you down, but will hold you and keep you close by.

During Class Trials, he immediately shuts any suspicion down.

“S/O can’t be culprit! Was with Gonta!”

You tell him to be wary of Kokichi, as you think Kokichi doesn’t have good intentions with your boyfriend. He just gives you a smile.

“Kokichi wants to end killing game just as much as Gonta!”

When all of you go in the simulation, Gonta makes sure you’re okay and that the baby’s okay. You don’t exactly look pregnant in the simulation, but he still makes sure. After that, he goes off to watch Kokichi, and you’re left to explore on your own.

To make a long story short, when Miu was killed, you noticed Kokichi giving you the side-eye, but didn’t say anything to him. You could tell he knew something that you didn’t.

During the Class Trial, the “Killing Game Busters” were revealed. You didn’t want to believe it was Gonta. You really didn’t. He would never hurt someone like that without a purpose…

“S/O, take care of Gonta’s baby. Gonta will be watching over you and baby!”

You sobbed as you watched his execution. The father of your child was burned alive, and he was never coming back.

Instantly, you unleashed all your rage onto Kokichi and his crocodile tears. Several people had to pull you off of him, claiming that the stress wouldn’t be good for the baby.

Besides, you could hit Kokichi with all the punches in the world, but nothing would bring him back…

 Laughs when you tell him about it.

Laughs the second time you tell him about it.

“It is even funnier the second time!”

Doesn’t laugh the third time.

“Wait a minute. You can’t be serious-?!”

Hope you valued your alone time while it lasted, because that is now a thing of the past!

MINE! MINE! MINE! MINE!

Lets everyone know that they’re not even allowed near you. He keeps you in his room at all times, you barely even get to sleep in your own bed anymore.

He only really lets you out during Class Trials, and even then he convinces Monokuma to put his podium next to yours.

Constantly talks about how happy he is that he’s going to be a father, to the point everybody knows. Even the Monokubs are a little bit annoyed.  So much for keeping it a secret.

“Hmm, nope! It can’t be me, sorry! I was too busy spending time with my child and my girlfriend~”

His logic is that since you’re pregnant, maybe nobody would kill you because they would feel too bad, so he doesn’t really mind screaming it to the world.

The longer the game goes on, though, the more fucked up things he feels compelled to do, in his efforts to try and stop the killing game.

You practically scream at him when he pretends to be dead.

“Aw, don’t worry your pretty little head! I’m alright, aren’t I?”

Maki keeps sending her threats for him to you.

“If you want to raise the child with a stable 2-Parent family, I suggest you calm your boyfriend down.”

During the fifth trial, things are very tense. Either way, your boyfriend was either dead or going to die. You knew it was all a part of his scheme, but you still thought this was a step too far.

When Kaito was revealed in the Exisal, you bawled your eyes out.

Even as Shuichi explained Kokichi’s thought process, it made nothing better.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye…

And your child would never meet his father.

Wait, you’re what?

Oh no.

In a killing game?!

Oh no.

And he’s the father???

Oh NO.

You’re surprised that he doesn’t faint, by the way he’s acting.

“S/O, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, really!”

You tell him that it’s okay, because you know he’ll make a great parent. You’ve made him a little more confident, but not by a lot.

“We should probably keep this a secret for now. You can never really be too careful in these circumstances.”

Everyone can tell something’s off with him, because he gets really bad Couvade syndrome.

He still tries to help you as much as he can. If you’re craving something he brings you it almost immediately.

If your stomach moves even a tiny bit, he assumes the baby is coming even though he knows better. You have to tell him that it’s only a kick and he needs to take it down a couple of notches.

“Heh…sorry.”

His anxiety is through the ROOF.

Still tries to work on it. He’s got to be strong for you.

Trains with Kaito to help him become stronger, and brings you along with him.

“Hey Shuichi, don’t you think S/O might want to train with us?”

“It’s okay Kaito, S/O gets really sleepy during this time.”

Tries his hardest during class trials. He can’t afford to take shit from anybody and risk getting you killed. Hits the killers with the hard facts and evidence.

Investigates with you by his side.

“Now the baby can see his father in action!”

At the 6th Trial, he reveals your pregnancy, even though Tsumugi already knew.

Nobody else did. How? Guess they weren’t paying attention to your ever-increasing stomach.

When everyone ducks under rocks, Shuichi shields you with his body for extra protection. After the two of you make it out alive, along with Maki and Himiko, the 4 of you go off to start a new life together.

“WHAAAATTTT?!”

Thinks you cheated on him.

He’s very hurt.

You spend almost an hour convincing him that he’s the only one you’ve ever been with. He still doesn’t really believe it, but there’s only one thing to do.

The two of you consult Miu to figure out what in the hell is going on.

“Miu! I never wanted to actually have sperm and be able to create life! Now our child is going to be born in such horrible conditions!”

“Well, be more fuckin’ clear next time, and wrap it up when you get your dick wet, why don’t you?!”

Looks on the bright side.

He was able to get you pregnant, something no other robot was able to do before! That’s a complete win!

You’re still stuck in this school, though, and this was no place to raise a child.

“Robots aren’t allowed to hurt humans, and I can’t risk you killing someone and losing the trial…”

He helps you the best that he can. He gives you any medicine that he can find, and he lets you use him as a heating pad.

Scans daily to see your state of health. Sometimes more than necessary…

“I just did this scan 5 minutes ago? Oh, I hadn’t noticed…”

Takes pictures of your stomach every day to monitor your growth.

Kokichi always makes fun of the two of you.

“Well, I guess that answers my question! Robots do have dicks! Hey S/O, was it all cold and metallic?”

“…that’s not funny.”

When it was revealed during the 6th Trial about Danganronpa, he was conflicted.

The voices in his head– the audience– told him all different things. He was tired, he just wanted to be free. He didn’t want your child to grow up in a world like this.

“S/O, if this continues, and the kid we created joins a future season, I’d never forgive myself. It’s time to end this. Please, when you see them, let them know their father loves them so.”

He sacrificed himself by blowing up the school. As he saw his friends and his significant other huddled beneath a rock, he grinned, knowing they were going to be okay.

Scoffs.

“Well, that’s just my luck that I would cause you to have to bring a new life into this horrible world.”

He’s honestly pretty upset over the whole thing for at least a couple days.

But then he realizes it; he can raise them to be better than he ever was or had a chance at being. He can teach them to do better.

This makes him happy, and he apologizes for being so stand-offish.

“Looks like… we’ve still got a ways to go.”

When the two of you lay down together, he always lays down in a way that his ear is directly pressed against you stomach.

He talks to the child a lot.

“Don’t worry, little one. We’ll get you and everyone else out of here and to safety. I love you so much.”

Truth be told, he’s a little scared that he’s a  threat to the kid. After what happened in his past, what happened to his family, what happened to his lover…

You tell him to try to not think about it, and you know that he’s learned from the past.

The two of you only tell a couple people that you trust; namely, Shuichi and Kirumi. They’re both really happy for you!

Kirumi helps out a lot by getting you whatever you need for the day. She doesn’t get at all bothered by your morning sickness, and even offers to clean.

After the motive videos come out, Ryoma watches his and though he’s a little hurt, it doesn’t stop his determination to leave.

While she’s cleaning Ryoma’s room, Ryoma confides in her for advice.

“I feel like…I won’t be enough for our kid. Look at me now, I’m nothing more than an empty shell. I just… want to be enough for our family.”

SLAM!

Ryoma fell to the ground with a light thud, and that was the last anybody ever heard from him.

Crying out as you saw the piranhas tear away his flesh, you fainted on the spot.

You didn’t even have time to investigate, because the Class Trial had started.

You appreciated how seriously Kirumi was taking this trial. She kept making glances at you, but you assumed it was because she felt bad that your child would have to be without a father.

Until…

No, it couldn’t be. She’d gained your trust, only to betray you in the end? What kind of sick joke was this?!

As she was executed, you looked down at your stomach, rubbing it.

“Looks like we’ve still got a ways to go, kid…”

Wildly switching between happy, sad, and terrified.

On the one hand, he’s happy to be a father to your child. You were the love of his life, and he wanted to do his part and take care of the kid.

On the other hand, when you tell him the news, he paces back and forth, trying to find a way to get you to be as safe as possible. He already survived one killing game, how hard could it be to let the two of you be the last survivors again?

He asked Monokuma to see if you could have the easy way out.

“Monokuma, I know you probably want me to still participate, but my girlfriend, she’s pregnant now, so can you please just-”

“Puhuhuhu~! All applications made are final, buddy! It looks like we may just have another member in a short 9 months! Well, the more the merrier!”

Shit.

After that “lovely” conversation, Rantaro was more determined than ever to find a way out of the game.

He’d already lost his sisters, and he wouldn’t dream of losing you and the child too.

When the countdown motive for the first murder is introduced, he parts with you for just a few minutes, to record the videos that you and your other classmates would later find. He wanders in the library in order to do something, but he’s distracted when a shot put ball falls behind him. As he goes to pick it up, he’s struck in the back of the head.

Finding his body, you wanted to throw up, and not from morning sickness. 

Nobody knew of your pregnancy yet, so nobody really knew how deep into despair you’d fallen.

Though, they still felt sorry for you, because it was obvious the two of you were together.

You didn’t feel right being angry at Kaede when she was revealed as the culprit, especially as she showed deep remorse.

“I didn’t mean it, S/O. I’m so sorry…”

Tears pricked your eyes as she was snatched back by the chains.

You forgive her.

Over the moon at first.

Yes, that’s a pun. Shut up, I know it’s bad.

This man is DANCING while he’s celebrating.

“WOO! I”M GONNA BE A FATHER!”

He’s loud enough that everyone knows within 10 minutes of you telling him.

Well.

When he has some alone time, he frowns to himself. He’s sick, What if he doesn’t live long enough to see their smiling face for the first time? Hear their first laugh?

These invasive thoughts clouded his mind, as he started to cough up blood.

“D-Damn it…”

Kaito decided not to tell you, not just because he’s an idiot, but he doesn’t want you to stress and possibly cause damage to the child.

He talks to your stomach everyday.

“What’s up, my little star!”

He’s extremely proud and isn’t afraid to show you off.

The more ill he gets, the more hope he has that you’ll be just fine. You have to be!

After he’s locked in the bathroom, he tries to find a way out. Any way out, he needed to make sure you were safe. Kokichi couldn’t keep him locked up forever! 

When he and Kokichi make their deal, he does it in your interest.

“If Monokuma can’t solve the murder, I’ll finally get to walk out of here and start my family! Right?!”

But their plan failed. As you watched his execution, you screamed, pounding on the screen, begging Monokuma to let him go, please. You’d do anything! Soon, his coughing got worse, and he was soon on the ground, pink all around him. He’d died of his own accord.

You smiled happily at the bittersweet moment. He died of his own accord, no longer a part of Monokuma’s twisted game.

You knew he was above, watching you from the stars.

“Did you say you’re pregnant…? My, what an interesting turn of events!”

Did this man just say it was interesting?

You told him that this was serious, and that you needed to find a way out of here now.

“Keheehee... you don’t really think I’d let anything happen to you, do you? It’s clear Monokuma won’t let us go, even under these circumstances. Besides, I have my own kin developing inside your body, you need extra attention now!”

He will literally give you a tsunami of compliments everyday about how your body seems to be handling the pregnancy.

“S/O, your body is just so radiant today!”

Tells you stories about motherhood in other cultures.

Knows the best herbal remedies to calm symptoms such as headaches or nausea.

Nervous that you keep having to go to the bathroom, guides you there and back.

You really don’t know why he completely lost his shit by killing Angie and Tenko.

You convinced yourself that it was because of the oppressive student council, but why Tenko?

As he revealed his true self, you were horrified. He...was a serial killer?

The Korekiyo you came to love was a serial killer?

You were thrown into despair as you came to terms with his true colors. Nothing made sense anymore. Not only was your boyfriend and father of your first-born child dead, but he’d been batshit insane this entire time?

Maybe the next time you see red rope and hear a promise of “pleasure like you’ve never experienced”, you’ll politely decline.

[fabricated-misslieness]

♡〜 All teams with reader who doesn’t fight they just say the most hurtful things, like they cussed out tsukki one time and didn’t let him breath 😩 ( gender neutral )  Just sexual tension headcanons 😩 how would all teams react too a mean teammate that brings people down then just flirts〜♡

Haikyuu Teams x gender neutral reader

There’s so many teams bro. For the sake of my sanity, imma do most interesting characters or what comes to mind while writing. Also, I felt like since we know Karasuno the most it’s only fair I do all of them.

At the home stretch I thought I’d used putty too much so I just said ‘clay’

Also I don’t think this is a very nice thing to do, sweetie

Requested: Yes

Sexual Tension Haikyuu Headcanons (don’t know a better title)

Warnings: Sexual tension, swearing, mentions of nsfw, haikyuu season 4 spoilers in the Kageyama bit

16+

Aoba Johsai

Oikawa lives for this shit

He will pretend as if he’s affected by the insults just to flirt with you. You can tell in the end that he wasn’t affected, but you go with it anyway because the sexual tension is through the roof. Oikawa being Oikawa, he’ll probably pull you away to make out.

The first few times Iwaizumi tries to break it up, but after a while he gets used to it.

But the first time you do it to Iwaizumi he doesn’t give a single fuck. These insults are stuff that anyone could say; unless you say something that only Oikawa, as his childhood friend, knows, then that’ll hurt. So until then, he’s basically invulnerable.

He’d be angry after the those mean comments, but I think Iwa would be good at angry sex

Mattsun’s a chill mf that would insult you back light-heartedly and he would not care about the comments. On the other hand, he will flirt back. After he knows about your antics and when he sees that he’s going to be your target, he’ll just pull you aside to make out and make fun of each other. Though, if he’s in a bit of mood, he will build up the sexual tension with you.

Makki is snarky as well, so he will insult you back and make it a competition. In the end, of course, you win since you do this on the daily. Keep in mind that mean comments don’t affect him, it’s only the fact that he lost the competition that does. He feels a little embarrassed when you start flirting with him, especially if you flirt with pity. “Aww, little Maki feeling down?” cup his chin with your hand i beg of you

Kyotani will also make the insulting a competition, but his insults are pathetic even compared to Makki’s since he lets yours get to his temper. Flirting with him would make him tsundere-like, but he will accept a few kisses, maybe even make out. He’s not experienced at all, which is what makes him reluctant. Of course, if he were, angry sex would be amazing

You bet your ass that somebody will make out with you after a match because you insult and flirt with them, even if it distracts them. “Hey, nice ass!” As they jog to go serve and, “That spike was pathetic!” even when they spike a kill. Somebody’s gonna shout “shut up” or “fuck off”

Date Tech

Aone would simply not give a fuck about the insults. But the flirting will get him flustered. Good luck on trying to kiss him though, cause he won’t try to kiss you and you can’t tiptoe to his height.

But he will always try to stop you if he ever catches you trying to do the same to anybody else, except for Futakuchi. He knows that his captain likes the flirting part.

Futakuchi will make the insult a competition but he will be affected by your snarky comments. In the end, what signals his defeat is him groaning - really loudly - and falling to the ground dramatically. Pick him up, tease him for it, and you got putty in your hands.

Fukurodani

Mean comments will get to Bokuto’s ego. He tries to fight back with his own, but that doesn’t affect you. Eventually, he’s going to turn into depressed Bokuto. Akaashi will scold you for this if it’s the first time, but when you assure him that “You got this” he’ll let you try to entertain the ace.

The flirting made him perk up and react as if you were comforting him, which makes him forget you were the one who insulted him in the first place. In the end, he’ll accept a kiss, but he’s too dense to register the sexual tension.

Akaashi will not give a fuck about your insults unless, like Iwaizumi, they’re based off something that nobody else knows. Until you don’t know those things, he will not accept your flirting either.

Once you do, and you get him dejected and all, the only way flirting will build up sexual tension for him is an apologetic undertone.

Konoha insults back and makes it a competition but the only way he stands a chance is if the mean comments don’t make it to his ego, which they do. He also makes flirting a competition, it’s just in his nature.

Inarizaki

When you insult either of the twins, the one you’re making fun of calls for the other. It’s the only way that they’ll cooperate with each other. Even so, you’re much better at making fun of them than they are. Mean comments Osamu will still get to his ego, but it won’t hurt him as much as it does to Atsumu. Suna will record the whole thing.

Flirting with Osamu makes him realize that the insults didn’t mean shit, thus restoring his ego. He’ll flirt back and, instead of only suggesting something explicit, he’ll mostly likely invite you for a dinner date ‘cause he knows his cooking is amazing. He doesn’t mean it, but he won’t mind if you actually do take his offer.

Flirting with Atsumu makes him confused. Granted, the flirting still gets him flustered, but he will be fighting back with insults or bragging about himself; something like, “Ah, so you realize that I am much better than you think I was!” At some point he will give and just kiss you right then and there.

Aran is unfazed by your mean comments, knowing that you do the same thing with the others. Also because of this, he knows you don’t mean the flirting either. Unless you compliment and flirt with him genuinely, you’re not getting anywhere near romantic with him.

Kita is the same, except he will bluntly shut down your efforts.

Suna won’t be affected by the insults. Depending on his mood, he either flirts back - though extremely lazily - or just smiles cheekily. His face tells you that he’s accepting the flirting, but he just won’t flirt back. He will make the first move to making out if he thinks you’re taking too long.

Itachiyama

Kiyoomi just says no. That’s it. He does not give a single shit about you unless you do anything like touch him or make a move, which makes him annoyed at you. 

At first, Komori tries to fight back your insults with positivity. When you don’t stop, he insults you, and he means it sincerely. After that, he realizes you don’t actually put any weight behind your mean comments. At that point, you make fun of each other with no problem. 

He’s not affected by your insults, only pretending that he is by saying “Meanie!”

The first time you did this, he acted dejected to see what you’d do. He did not expect you to start flirting with him, but boy, did he enjoy it.

From then on, your friendship was full of flirting and making fun of each other.

Johzenji

Terushima is basically the only Johzenji member we really know, so here we go

The insults will hurt his ego. He tries to insult you back - they’re horrible insults - and use his captain status as a way to get you to stop but you certainly won’t. When he’s absolutely done, he’ll go sulk in a corner, which is a great opportunity to kabedon and start flirting.

He’ll be surprised (with his dumb himbo brain and all) but since he lives off of flirting, he’ll flirt back and completely forget about the insulting earlier.

Tongue piercing makes making out much better

Karasuno

Chaos.

Daichi tries to stop you, no matter what, even if he’s the victim. He’s not affected by your insults, like Iwa and Akaashi, unless they’re personal. Even then, he’s realized that you don’t mean them. Flirting does fluster him, though it doesn’t build up sexual tension unless your friendship already had sexual tension without the flirting.

The next groups count on the fact that they’re not the victim.

There’s the ones that try to stop you, that is if they’re not the victim: Asahi, Nishinoya, Tanaka, Ennoshita, and Hinata.

Then there’s the ones that sit back and relax, probably with popcorn: Sugawara (he ‘tries’ to stop you but he only says “Hey, stop!” really weakly) and Tsukishima (he probably joins along with Suga) The others give them side-eye, cause dude, they’re literally insulting your teammate, what the heck! And then they point out that you don’t mean it.

Finally, there’s the ones that want to interfere but are just too shy to interfere or they just think it’s not their place to do so: Yamaguchi, Narita, and Kinoshita. Yams cause Tsukki is literally acting as if this were a show and Narita and Kinoshita because they’re both awkward babies.

Kageyama is just unfazed, as if this were a normal thing.

Then when it comes to the flirting part, everybody is confused and or shocked, with a few exceptions.

Sugawara would’ve been unfazed by your antics. He’s very observant, so he can already insult you as well. Like I said, he already knew you didn’t mean it, so flirting comes easy. He’s down to make out.

Asahi would already be very scared and intimidated from the mean comments, but when you start flirting - with a pitiful undertone - he’s basically a puppy that wants affection. He’s not experienced at all and would be shocked with a mere kiss, so he’s not the ideal ‘victim’.

Nishinoya would make both flirting and insulting a competition. Suga told him that you didn’t mean it, which urged him on. He would not let the mean comments get to his ego, but the flirting would. Especially if you praised him.

Tanaka’s ego would get hurt, but it’s restored when he realizes you don’t mean it. Before he does, though, he insults you back the best he can. He’s a little awkward, so he wouldn’t flirt back very well. He tries one time, and then he finds out he’s awful at it, so he just lets you do your thing. He’s down to kiss, but he’s not experienced at all.

Ennoshita would frown and sit through your insults, realizing that you didn’t mean it a while after Sugawara and Tsukki. He does get a bit annoyed, which isn’t redeemed by your flirting. In spite of that, he does get flustered and almost lets the sexual tension break him; but unless you’re genuine, like Aran, you’re not getting anywhere.

Kinoshita is putty in your hands any day of the week.

Narita is way too awkward for either insulting or flirting, so he basically sits there blankly with a red face. He’s down for kissing though.

Kageyama is once again unfazed by your mean comments, unless they’re about him being King of the Court before Hinata tells him it’s fine. As for flirting, he’ll turn as stiff as a rock and stare at you with the widest eyes and the cutest blush. There is no flirting back. He’s down for kissing, but absolutely cannot comprehend making out.

Hinata insults you back but the mean comments don’t affect him too much. When flirting comes, after a few seconds of being frozen, he explodes like a flare. No flirting back either. One kiss, that’s it.

Yamaguchi is also putty in your hands, but he’s completely inexperienced and can only kiss - in a chaste way, at that.

Tsukki insults back, but when you get a taste of how he acts and how snarky he is, you try hard. He does not get a single breath and cannot say anything back because you won’t let him. What hurts his ego isn’t your insults, but the fact that he couldn’t even let a single word out. He’s also a little angry at himself. Flirt with him while making fun of him and have a “I’m better than you” undertone to put him in his place. It’s either cause I really like him or I think it’s true, but I think he’d be good at angry sex.

Of course, the others would be shocked, especially Yamaguchi. Hinata, Nishinoya, Suga, and Tanaka would’ve loved to rub it in his face, and they would’ve if it weren’t for you flirting with him.

Shiratorizawa

Most of them are dry mfs except for Tendo.

Ushi is entirely blank faced and would’ve ‘insulted’ you - he calls it constructive criticism - if you hadn’t followed up with flirting. That said, he doesn’t even react to that either. The only thing that flirting did was reassure him that you didn’t mean anything you said. He’s just blunt, straight-forward and emotionless. I headcanon he’s demisexual. 

Semi Semi is very annoyed at you when you give him mean comments. In a way, your insults do give you what you wanted. With his short temper, he’s prone to having angry sex, and your flirting really helps with that.

Shirabu’s reaction really depends on your year.

If you’re an upperclassman, Shirabu will sit right through it and call it ‘constructive criticism’; that’s how much his respect blinds him. But when you start flirting, god, he is clay. If you show a little pity and persuade him to flirt back, he will. It’s a little pathetic, but he’ll do it.

If you’re his year or the year below, he will bicker with you, as long as there are no upperclassmen around. Your insults really do affect his ego, but he’ll pull a straight face as he bickers with you. When he’s dejected by the fact that you don’t seem affected, you start flirting. He’s flustered, hiding the lower half of his face with his hands. Just like before, he won’t flirt back. He is entirely incapable. 

He’ll be shy, but he’s down for making out.

Tendo is the besssst

He can tell that you don’t mean it, so insulting turns into making fun of each other and having fun. Flirting is mutual and also has a side of making fun of each other. You’re totally gonna be fuck buddies.