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missgeniality · 4 years ago

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Opaline Moon (m)

“The Moon can never breathe, but it can take our breath away with the beauty of its cold, arid orb.” - Munia Khan

➺ Banner: @hobiandsprite 💕

➺ Pairing: Seokjin x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Friends to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11.2k

➺ Summary: You are ingrained to love Jin, right upto the blood that courses through your veins. Confessing, however, is a whole other game. So it’s a good thing you’re bad at keeping your hands to yourself, because happenstance can handle the rest.

➺ Warnings: talks about dance floor fucking, making out in the bar bathroom, fingering, pussy slapping, passing out drunk, daydreams about thigh riding, reader masturbates, they make out A LOT, neck kissing, a hickey, nipple play, some biting, cum eating (kind of, you’ll see), blowjob, protected sex!, reader and jin are corny, the hurt is real but the sex is real-er

➺ Author’s Note: My lovely, lovely moots - @taegularities, @kithtaehyung and @baepsaetan, thank you so much for betaing this and hyping it up, your comments made this fic a hundred times better! As I mentioned on the teaser, this fic took a lot out of me, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing the angst and will write more whenever the story aligns! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing, and I hope this lovable Jin reaches your heart! (ngl, in usual fashion, I will come back and edit it again, so if you see a spelling mistake, your eyes are lying to you) Do let me know what you think, your asks and comments make my day!

This is the second part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Sweltering heat. Blaring traffic. Little to no sleep. Through all things wrong, one man’s thoughts wrapped around you like a cooling breeze, a shield to protect you from the vicissitudes of reality, to draw you back into all of him. Unfortunately, your reality may never see that day come to light.

Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin, the man who cooked you up a greasy break-up meal at three in the morning with not a sight of discomfort, putting your needs above all.

Kim Seokjin, whose puns make you roll your eyes heavenward, half awed at how he manages to pull one out of his collection at a moment's notice, and half irked by the untimely laugh it brings out of you.

Kim Seokjin, the man who will never be yours, and you have no one to blame but yourself.

One could argue that the miscommunication that had caused this present condition was two-way. If you had stopped him, corrected him, let him know the truth… you wouldn’t have to resort to the extreme measures you’re currently entangled in. One would also say, you are trying to redeem your mistake by trying too hard. Surely, everyone and their mothers could see through your ruse.

This is the fourth time you’re visiting Jin for his BE shoot - a shoot taking place two hours away from the city, disguised under various layers of secrecy to prevent any leakage of the album concept, or Jin in general. Of course, you had been made privy to such exclusive information, because you and Jin were ‘best friends’.

Best. Friends.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Best friends. The term you coined for (and forced upon) the bond you had. The bond that was too close to sprouting into something new, something fresh, something that was filled with glimmering allure and dragged you in like quicksand. But also, it reeked of commitment, of shadows, of newness that you hadn’t felt in the longest time, and fear of already being far too deep in without even taking the first step.

The loud thrum of some internet kid’s new hit pulses through the air of the club as bundles of couples occupy the dance floor, laughing and gyrating to a song that, in your opinion, most definitely does not suit gyrating. But with enough of the weekend happy hours intake combined with hormone-riddled minds, one could very well throw it back to a church choir.

You weave through the drunken bodies, trying not to spill the precariously held three drinks in your hands, making your way to your inner circle, the only people to blame for dragging you to this slosh-fest.

“Y/N!”

Somehow Hoseok’s voice can echo across the club, but you didn’t even need his addressal because Jin’s laughter is loud enough to navigate anyone to your table. Seeing you struggle with the glasses (and mostly the crowd, with some of them living their exhibitionist dreams), Hoseok gets up to assist you.

“I swear, if I see one more couple pretending to be dancing as they rub one off of each other’s thighs, the black market will have my eyes.”

“Oh yeah?” Jin’s breathy voice interjects your black-market dreams, still bursting in short laughs from whatever sent him rolling before your arrival. “Why don’t you go join them?”

“And whose thigh is she taking, yours?” Yeji snorts out, one hand holding her nebula blue drink, the other wrapped around Hoseok, urging him to come closer. Jin’s features scrunch into a cringe, and you’re thankful for the dim lighting because the disappointment in your features does not reach them.

“The only action these leather pants are getting is in the damned laundromat,” he points to his shiny trousers, “some jerk dropped his drink on it.”

“You could be the first person to give some chick an orgasm and a yeast infection.” Hoseok giddily adds, his fifth shot clearly making a mess of his brain cells.

Jin claps and gets up to move away from the group. “Better than a pregnancy!” he yells, before zigzagging through the crowd, possibly to the restroom. He is on his third cocktail, and you’d think cocktails are lighter drinks. But in this bar, their taps just seem to flow with tequila, and it is very evident in the way Jin is currently walking.

His absence hits you harder than you think, but it might be the alcohol talking. Jin has always been the mood-maker of the group, the one who brings everyone together. Of late though, his magnetic persona has been an irritant in your life. Any outing you two take, any chance you have to come clean about the burgeoning crush you have on him, is effectively disrupted by one of his posse. And today, Hoseok and Yeji took that trophy.

“Earth to Y/N. Has the cocktail finally broken you?”

You flutter your eyes in a manic fashion, to disperse the daydream you were indulging yourself in, and bring your attention back to the couple calling for you. Surprisingly, they have stood up, Yeji emptying the last of her neon drink.

“What happened?”

“We are going to the club nearby, they have better stuff. And that’s code for ‘they actually add water to the drink and the surround sound doesn’t shatter your ear drum’.’”

She isn’t wrong. The cocktails and music here are a 19-year-old frat party dream, not something the working class can digest. But you’re tired at this point, and don’t want to be smothered by someone else’s love life when your own is down the dumps.

“You guys carry on! I’ll tell Jin where you are and he’ll meet you there!”

You watch as Hoseok and Yeji lead each other to the exit, hands circling their partner’s waist. They giggle on and on, about nothing and everything, and it only hardens the emptiness you feel inside you.

Why can’t you gather the balls to spit your feelings out? What could possibly go wrong? Yes, you may lose one of your closest friends, but is this friendship really worth the agony? The bitterness you feel when you see any couple enjoying themselves? The anger you harbor whenever Jin tells you about his dates? The heartache, when he hugs you and tells you that you’re the best thing that’s happened to him… as a friend? Is it? Your plastered brain tells you to not make any rash decisions, so you don’t, instead choosing to get up and search for your best friend.

The corridor leading to the washrooms is dimly lit, throwing a merlot filter over your eyesight, making you squint in search of your friend. You being shitfaced does not help, and while relishing in your floating wooziness, you see Jin come out, and feelings you’ve held at bay for so long slither through your currently porous defenses.

He has always been good-looking. He himself has said so a dozen times.

But wow.

His hair lays messily atop his beautiful face, unkempt, like a breeze of beauty swept across his mighty looks and displaced every strand, causing disarray, but even the disarray only frames his superior looks and adds to its potent charm. The black, patchy sweater hanging loose off his broad shoulders makes you feel things you shouldn’t feel as a friend. That stupid gut of yours is currently screaming, yelling for all hands on deck, trying to block all the feelings from gushing in and sending you into overdrive.

By the time you can gather yourself to stop from giving in to those dangerous thoughts, Jin has crossed the distance between you, coming close, too close. Chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul, searching for whichever fantasy you chose to lose yourself in. His eyes flit down to notice your rumpled dress that has found its way a couple of inches above its designated spot. His gaze returns to yours, but not without a newfound hardness, an almost steely glaze over the kindness that you usually find in the chocolate pools, accentuated under the garnet lighting.

“Hey, umm…” You beg for a reprieve, from your thoughts, from your filthy mind, from the way he is eyeing your cleavage, or just for the burning between your legs. You’re about to make some serious mistakes, you can feel it down to your bone.

You’re far too overdressed.

You knew it when you were in the process of getting dressed, but right now, you feel it much more - you look like a shiny disco ball orbiting amidst the plethora of loose tees, leggings and flannels. Everything screams comfort, because the amount of work they’re putting into this begs for it.

The strappy lace sundress you wear is extremely out of place, the halter-neck tie behind your neck fastened a little looser than necessary, giving your breasts the exposure they deserve, a nice valley view. Your dress skirt, adorned with pretty frills and dainty flowers, cut across your thigh to frame your petite hips. You are one floppy sun hat away from an extravagant Greek cruise - and in the moment you wish you had one to hide your face in shame.

You’re just out here, trying to escape the zone.

“Oh, would you look at the time, it’s tits out Tuesday already?”

Your eyes roll before Sanghoon even finishes his sentence, because you wouldn’t expect anything else from him. On the team of the set design, he is carrying a whole drapery worth of plush, mauve curtains, struggling with the slipping fabric. But apparently not struggling enough to stop him from getting his nose into your business, it seems.

“Literally not even a time you just mentioned. Can’t get one thing right.” You can’t stop yourself from stretching a hand out to feel the curtain fabric, the satiny sheets begging to be touched. Before you can though, Sanghoon moves away, not allowing you to shift the focus of the conversation.

“Don’t steer away from the facts. Your tits.”

“That’s the fact?”

“They’re out.” He bucks up, trying to point with the hand stuffed underneath all the cloth. “That’s the fact.”

“Ugh, can’t a girl dress up once in a while?” The pointed attention makes you uncomfortable, because everything he’s insinuating is true. With every passing staff member, you count a new shade of grey, interspersed with occasional blacks and greens, a stark contrast to your floral overtones. Amidst the thousand footsteps taken in your vicinity, only yours are pointed heels, echoing across the studio with every clack. But you’re a stubborn one, refusing to give in to his totally valid argument. “I just woke up early.”

“Girl.” Like light through frosted glass, he sees through your bullshit, but only partially. “You put an alarm to dress up? I have nightmares of the boss brandishing her whip and telling me to get into position, and even that doesn’t wake me up.”

“Have you ever considered… not announcing your kinks to everyone and their sisters?”

“Ehh,” he simply shrugs, “nothing is new when you’ve serenaded your boss drunk in a karaoke bar and still managed to keep your job. Wait. Is that highlighter?”

“Stop staring into my tits!” You can’t believe you got caught, but also, who can you blame? After testing this outfit out from the crack of dawn, you decided your cleavage needed some extra help. Three YouTube tutorials and one TikTok lady - who make it look far easier than it is - down, the contouring brought out the swell of your breasts, and against the light fabric of your dress, it does look too good to be true.

Memories of that night in the bar come in billows and waves, of how enamored Jin was with the way your boobs looked at that time. Even under the dingy lighting, in the cramped space, under heavily inebriated scrutiny, you couldn’t miss the flicker of heat in his gaze every time it passed your chest.

One thing led to another, and it was a cascade none of you could stop. The heat of attraction between you two does not help your wandering mind, and the fever drowns the knowledge that what you’re feeling is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, crossing some lines that can never be mended back again. With the proximity, his musky scent invades whatever defenses you were trying to patch, piercing through all your inhibitions and you pull him into you, claiming his lips to be yours.

With his wobbly knees and your wobbly heels, you somehow find your way to the washroom - mostly he does, you give in halfway to wrap your legs around his lean waist, his sturdy legs balancing your weight on them as your back hits the wall, and his lips tear down your walls.

“You look so fucking sexy today,” between bated breaths and indulgent sighs you confess, “just driving me nuts.” Letting your hands drag along his abdomen, feeling the ups and downs of his abs, you attempt to rid him of the sweater that’s been on your hit list all night. But to your dismay, your endeavor is blocked, when Jin gathers your wrists in his palm, turning you around to bend you over on the countertop, the smooth marble chill hitting your braless chest, perking your nipples under the cold.

“And you?” Jin bends to give your earlobe a languid lick, progressing very slow, a complete contrast to the movement of his hips as he ruts against your ass, your already short dress bunching up with every move. “You think it’s smart to have your tits torment me like this?” Grabbing a handful from behind, he tests the weight of each fleshy mound, and by now you are certain your perked nubs can pierce his palm.

His free hand, not yet torturing you, decides to get in on the action and disappears under the counter, swiftly crossing the bunched fabric of your dress, gaining easy access to your pussy. The cold touch of his pads sears against the heat of your core, finding your pleasure button and languidly fiddling with it, with no intention to cross you over the brink in sight. The only pleasure you can indulge in is the reflection of him abusing your nipples, pinching and tugging them down, whispering filthy words into your ear as he takes in your fucked out countenance.

You feel lacking, weak hands balancing your dizzy self, finding purchase to keep you upright - but you’re both drunk on alcohol and hypnotized by his beauty to do much more than stare at his mirrored counterpart. “For fuck’s sake, kiss me.”

How he understood your slurred words, you don’t know, but you are glad he did. In a moment you’ve been displaced, the hurried motion sending your neurons into a flurry. Once your back meets the hard marble, and your eyes have the privilege to see his, you pull him in closer, the force enough to hold you against the wall while your legs wrap around his lean waist.

Originally not a fan of drunken misadventures, that side of yours is strangely mute to the going current onslaught. Well, you don’t have much breath left to say anything, because Jin is efficiently stealing it all, his teeth clashing with yours as you engage in the messiest kiss ever known to mankind (or at least, to you). He changes pace often, dragging his tongue leisurely against your lower lip, conveying tacit words, just to switch it up with a sharp bite and reel you in.

One corner of your senses can feel his fingers messing around your cunt, and playing with the wetness your thong can barely contain. It makes you shudder, the damage that his fingers can cause solely circling around your hole.

“Fuck me.”

In your drunken stupor, you don’t know if the words leave you right, but you get confirmation when his long fingers finally penetrate your cunt, giving your walls something to clench on - although nothing could possibly compare to what you imagine you can get from his dick.

“God, you feel that grip,” he grunts, with two of his fingers in you, and Jin’s smile is the most sinister you’ve ever seen. “I think we should take this home,” is what his lips utter, but his fingers delve deeper, searching for the spot that crumbles you. The base of his palm grinds against your throbbing clit, and you are forced to bite down on this sweater, lest an embarrassingly loud moan escapes you and cues outsiders into your filthy doings.

“Now,” you half-hiss, half-growl as you grab the cusp of his legs to feel his half-hard erection grow under the pressure of your hand. Your palm sliters up just to go down again, this time without the blockade of his pants, but you are stopped short of success when Jin’s fingers slip out of you to give you a sharp swat.

“Stubborn, aren’t we? Can’t fucking wait,” he whispers into your ear, and as he envelops your lobe with his cushiony lips, he continues, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

No, no, no.

Your brain rejects logic, chews and spits it out before any of the rationale seeps into you. You have wanted this for far too long. The need inside you for a meaningful relationship materializes in the form of recklessness, desperately looking for surface-level relief for the moment. A night of sewing sutures to your battle-worn heart, stitches that may come off at the slightest strain - but right now, that will do.

“Please, Jin,” your tantalizing tone riles up his cock again, eagerly waiting for your next words, “can’t you feel me dripping? Come on, I can take you.”

“Fuck, hear that wetness.” He lets his palm slap against your sopping entrance, not stopping with one. With every slap, droplets of your arousal splash out, the insides of your thighs coated in the sticky sweetness, but your body is an endless reservoir producing plentiful more for Jin to play with. “Have you been sitting with this all this time?”

Two long fingers invade your channel again, leaving you with no response other than a gasp. They scissor incessantly, preparing you for what could be the railing of your lifetime. One curl inside and his fingertips hit the spot he was looking for, making you warp your body to take the pleasure coursing through your veins. His tongue seems to mimic the actions, looping around your earlobe as he sucks it inside, both ends of your body engulfed in all the attention he could provide.

Your cunt is weeping against the assault of this man’s hands, tears of your cum flowing down your legs with every pump of his arm. You are getting there, the sweet swell of release inching closer and closer.

But something doesn’t feel right.

The tightness in your belly, that is to a point caused by Jin, is harboring other sensations that are not entirely pleasant. Maybe you’re anxious about the happenings. Maybe you haven’t had a good orgasm in a while and have just forgotten how this thing works.

Or maybe, the bar should have the water tap actually give out water.

Either your eyes close, or your brain does, but suddenly all you can see is darkness.

Again, you are just trying to escape the zone.

“Step under those studio lights,” pointing at the too-bright stage lights being set up at the moment, Sanghoon continues, breaking your daydream, “I bet you could signal to aliens with the booby-reflection. Call them to Netflix and chill.”

“In about five seconds, my heel will be puncturing your eye. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

Sanghoon’s drivel was cut short, and so were your murder plans, with his entry. “Oh look, he’s on set. Gotta go!”

It’s like the lights, earlier threatening to burn away your skin, dim down in reverence of the glow of his face. The twinkle of his eyes when they meet yours. The shine of his smile when he throws you one. The vibrance of his tone when he calls out your name. Everything he does now threatens to burn you whole and it’s a wonder you’re not scalding, but the singe hurts you deep inside.

“Y/N! How do I look?” It’s a bathrobe. Like satin, or silk. Fucking hell, your brain could explode with the adjectives coming up, a whole chunk of them very much inappropriate to utter out in the current scene. Your arms want to rise, engulf him into you, and you have to physically halt the muscles from doing anything stupid. Brain, quick! Say something snarky and spicy, as best friends do!

“What’s the theme, unicorn puke?” The safest way to deflect is to attack. So you do just that. “You look like you dressed out of Hannah Montana’s closet. Which if it's true, I really need to see it. There’s a top that I’ve been eyeing for decades!”

“Don’t say decades.” Jin’s eyes crinkle in humor. “Makes me feel so old. Your dress is pretty cool too!”

Cool.

You find out how difficult life can be when you count every single minute of yours. So far, you have counted 4,310 minutes. That is two days, twenty-three hours, and fifty minutes. Ten more minutes and it will be three whole days since you and Jin spoke.

Yet again, you can’t blame him. When you came to the next day, you were in your bed, clad in the same shimmering silver bodycon that you had donned last night. The same one that had been privy to the colorful deeds you had committed in what was a dreary, colorless setting.

One ibuProfen and ginger ale, downed with some severe recollections of the previous night, and you had been ready to throw it all up again.

I don’t want to hurt you.

Words couldn’t describe what you were going through, and numbers weren’t invented to count the endless thoughts racing in your brain. You don’t know what is more upsetting. The fact that you actually had a chance to open your heart and you totally let your pussy think instead? Or that he was the one coherent enough to stop you from getting too far, and you let your desperation get the best of you? Everything about that night was wrong. And all the wrongs lie on your side.

I don’t want to hurt you.

In the moment, it was physical, he had to have meant that. But there was a tremor in his voice, you can remember clear as day, a slightly shaken side of him had emerged through the intoxication, and the words he had breathed were not shallow. There was a gravity to them, that you’d stupidly ignored in the heat of the moment.

And now, here you are. Counting up till the last minute, after which you can effectively call the friendship ruined. Stirring your tea mindlessly, you try to focus on the show on TV, the variety show comedy not striking the usual funny bones that they could 4,311 minutes ago.

The programmed ding of your phone bursts your thought bubble, a sound you have missed the past 72 hours. The ring you dedicated to Jin, that always had you running to receive because anything he sends brightens your day. But unlike those happier times, this ring has your gut fall into a pit of despair, struggling to choose between dispersing the suspense or remaining blissfully unaware of the damage you caused.

Jin: Free tmrw? We could grab coffee Jin: And talk

Talk. How? You barely remember what went down, save for fleeting moments that you recollected with great difficulty. Your fingers type back, trying to mimic the nonchalance in his text, that is very much absent in your actual demeanor.

Y/N: Sure. Paik’s at 1? Jin: Yup. See ya

Three texts, zero laughs. Of course, you’re not expecting him to land his jokes in this situation, even someone as talented as he can’t flip this tension. You’re just going to have to wait for tomorrow, when he decides whether you have a place in his life or not.

The painstakingly worn outfit, accessorizing the whole look, the straps of your heels digging into your toes, the specks of makeup dust lying stale on your collar bones, the shine faints at that word. Cool. A perfectly normal phrase for a normal friendship. You are left maimed, while he absent-mindedly tends to the rope of his robe, blissfully unaware of the cyclonic emotions churning inside you. All you can possibly do is gulp it down.

He runs his hands through his hair, beautiful locks coming out of place, and from one corner of the set, a groan of anguish emerges.

“Oppa! Don’t play with your hair and face.” A masked lady runs forward waving combs that look like artillery, “We just got done setting it!”

Some finger guns, a happy apology, and some silly jokes later, all the stylists merrily round up to undo his doing, and Jin signals to you to catch up later. And as he walks away, the strings tugging at your heart reappear, as they do every time you come to meet him.

You have a masochistic streak in you, putting yourself through this every day, when he had made it clear, that you two never stood a chance.

As if things aren’t already difficult, he looks like a dream.

Soft, snowy skin gleaming like it has personal lighting wherever it goes, you get flashes of the rarely witnessed sweat on his skin, from the ferocity of last night. He’s blowing away the foam of his cappuccino, and tiny bubbles float into the air before falling flat on the table, like an animated shine that follows him along. God has His favorites, and God makes sure all the lighting in the world is perfect for these favorites.

In no hurry, you wait at the counter to get your latte. After receiving it though, you can’t linger any longer and drag yourself to the table of doom.

“Hey.”

If the rasp in your voice is evident, he doesn’t show any recognition on his face. But you’ve learned to never trust an acting major.

“Hi. How are you doing?”

Inadvertently, a snicker escapes your lips. “Are you interviewing me for a job?” you joke, trying to disperse the heavy air, filled with unspoken words. “If so, at least know that I’m very expensive.”

The familiar windshield wiper laugh does not greet you. Dead silence does. The half-smirk he painfully gives you is heavy, and the furrowed brows haven’t an inkling of joy. It shoots daggers in your heart, to know that you are the reason for this jolly man’s despondency.

“Listen, I don’t think we should skirt around the issue too much. It happened, these things happen. You think Hoseok and Yeji didn’t have sex before making it official?”

His matter-of-fact nature isn’t new to you. Jin has always been a very practical man. Regardless of his inane sense of humor, his logical point of view has always been flawless.

But right now, at this very moment, logic isn’t what you are looking for. You are looking for answers, but as far withdrawn from logic as possible, to take the edge off of the tension-laden air that surrounds your table.

“Yeah, but even… unofficially… we aren’t a thing, right?”

Your abrupt question takes Jin unaware, almond eyes widening, like a toddler caught in an act.

“No, no! Of course not! I would never!”

His confession slips out with an ease that hurts you, digs deep to carve out the part of you that dreamt of anything more. Your eyes fall to your knees to avoid his perceptive gaze, the sting clear as the sky on a summer day.

You force a smile and continue. “Then there’s no issue. Anyway,” you gulp your coffee down, burning your throat, but it's a distraction from the burning inside, “I need to get to work. Anything else?”

He’s still searching you, for what, you can’t possibly fathom. From the looks of it, he should be happy with this homeostasis; he doesn’t even know what this means for you. To still stay suspended in limbo, not being able to move up or down, to continue having thorns digging into your beating soul as you watch him like nothing bothers your already frail feelings. Scene by scene, you can visualize the future, him distancing himself from you as he finds the one he calls his, with you left in the shadows. Your knees tremble in fear of the impending future.

Seeing you in a tizzy, he calls out, the voice too loud for the cafe and your mind’s prison cage.

“We’re still best friends, right?” If you knew better, you’d say his expression is that of sadness, of regret. But your judgment is clouded with your own bothers, and you interpret it as a look of pity. Like a lovesick puppy, kicked to the streets, with nowhere to call home.

“Yeah! Always.” You give it as much enthusiasm as you can muster.

Best friends.

Ropes wind around your heart, tugging and causing the deep ache that sets in as you walk back into your dreary building. Each string pulls you into a different dimension where you could move on, where you could be okay with the setting you had just agreed to. Where you would keep up your end of the promise and truly remain friends with him.

But no matter how strong the tug, your heart never yields, never lets go of the castle of dreams you built, staying steadfast in its own misery, choosing to hope, choosing to live the life of unrequited love.

“And that’s a wrap! Good job everyone!”

Applause and hurrays echo across the set to bring you back to the present. The shoot has officially concluded, which means it's time for your most favorite and least favorite part of the day - Jin and you doing best friend things, like grabbing lunch, gossiping about obnoxious coworkers, threatening to disembowel each other (in Mortal Kombat, of course) and other friendly activities.

Ever so respectful, Jin takes his time thanking every member of the set, regardless of whether they moved a cushion or held the reflector screen for hours. All the women gush over his beauty, reminding him of how, even amidst the glowing ornaments, his face was the brightest. His responses vary, from quiet little giggles, to complimenting the crew for making it happen, to straight up owning his charisma like a boss. That’s your man.

Well, not quite. Not one bit.

After exhausting the handshakes and hugs to be received, Jin walks to you, hands pushing his robe back to give it a cape like effect. You’re just glad that the man’s child persona still stays with him, no matter the situation. He guides you to his green room, cracking his bones on the way, (very sexily, might you add).

“Holding a pose for that long gives me cramps! You’d think dancing breaks my back, and you’d be wrong.”

You’re desperately avoiding looking at his fingers, and keep your eyes below them - shoot! His ceaseless stretching gives you a glimpse under his shirt - it is dragging your memories back to the last time you saw them, and you’d rather not. It is hurting you in more ways than one.

Eye contact is your safest bet. Looking up, you give him a lopsided grin. “Your grandfatherly days are approaching, Jinnie.”

“Hey!”

The rest of the conversation was less speaking, more yelling and chasing after each other to the green room, Jin taking mock-offence at your jab at his age, and his fingers reaching out to flick your forehead in retort. In your noisy, messy fashion, you both finally enter the room, dim gold light bulbs and shiny mirrors meeting your huffing self.

One hand on your knee, you hold on to Jin’s arm with your other, gasping for breath.

“Your grandmotherly days are already here, Y/N,” he snorts, and earns a kick on the shin, but that doesn’t stop him from bursting into snickers.

“Wow, why does one man need 4 mirrors?” You gape at his current green room, mouth wide open. It looks better than your entire apartment, with the counter carrying top-of-the-line makeup products. Only the best for this man. “So you can admire yourself from 4 different angles?”

Jin has disappeared into one of the inner rooms, but you can hear him snort at your comment. “Come on, I’m not that conceited. When the whole crew shoots together, the extra mirrors help.” The last part of that sentence is muffled, and that cues you into an important fact.

Jin is currently changing into something more comfortable.

A process that includes him getting naked.

Well maybe he doesn’t get fully naked, top on, top off, bottom on, bottom of-

Still. You’re sweating like a whore in church.

And things only get tougher when he finally comes out.

The ocean blue sweater he dons is tucked in. Who tucks in sweaters? Kim Seokjin. Why does he tuck sweaters? Oh, because he’s got an amazing waistline that he should most definitely show off, and the heat between your thighs becoming increasingly potent is a testament to that. You pretend to adjust your heels, giving the right expressions to show you’re in pain, but in actuality you are bringing your legs closer to get you some relief, just any relief.

Ripped jeans too. You get a peek of the thighs you were denied access to the night of the fuckening. Ridged and beautiful, not a speck in sight to mar his perfection. You are glad the facial expressions for pain and pleasure are not far apart, because your thighs, albeit very lacking, are helping the imagery in your head. Just Jin, seated on one of these leather chairs, and you straddling his thigh, clit aching against the strands of the rips in his denim, the fabric soaking up the wetness, with every push forwa-

“Now that you mention it, I do look dashing.”

And there goes that dream.

You pinch his cheeks in adoration, the vulgarity of your thoughts getting whitewashed by his silliness and blooming heart-shaped flowers in their stance. You feel your own pinch in you, wondering if this scene would be the same had you blurted your feelings out that day at the cafe.

It's times like these when you remind yourself why you choose to quieten that side. This dynamic cannot reincarnate in any other form. Any imbalance to this equilibrium could cause a serious case of best-friends-turn-awkward-acquaintances, and you don’t know if that’ll hurt you more than you currently do. You don’t plan on finding out.

But on God, he tests that resolution every single day.

Jin doesn’t even hint that he knows of the turmoil blasting behind your eyes. He nonchalantly fixes his hair, gives you a one-over as you are mentally undressing him, nonchalantly as well. Then he moves to grab his cologne, and two spurts disintegrates all the whitewashing and takes you back into the obscenities you were unfolding.

“So I’ll just go over the shoot photos, and then we can leave! You’re cool waiting here?”

“Hmmn, yeah!” You don’t let your mouth run any longer, fearing what might slip out.

He gives you a wide, innocent smile. “Great! See you in a bit.” Poor guy. If only he knew how debase plans you were conjuring just from the aroma of his cologne.

It is musky, like cedar or pine, perfectly suiting him. It is the same scent you remember inhaling, face stuffed in his sweater when he was fingering you to the tenth circle of hell. As he walks away, the fragrance diminishes, save for the slightest hint of lingering. You search for the source, and find the culprit strewn across the sofa.

The outfit Jin wore for the shoot held remnants of the perfume, and when you bring the shirt close and take a long, deep whiff, you transport yourself to the land of your dreams. You relish the fever smell of his cologne, mixed with his own natural scent, deciding that this is what you wish to smell like every waking morning.

Your longing for him has crossed way beyond physical boundaries. You longed for his love, longed for his attention. Longed to be the one that brings the light to his face. From morning rays to the darkness of the night, you wanted to experience it all by his side. To be his lone star, shining bright beside the moon.

Your hands are moving without your control, disrobing you of your thirst trap of a dress and putting on Jin’s shirt instead. One look at the mirror and you let out a silent groan - it fits you just right. Just enough to cover your ass cheeks, loose enough to let the air conditioning hit your heated pussy. While well-fitting shirts have never been the cornerstone of a successful relationship, your delusional mind takes whatever wins it gets.

Adding layers to your pipe dream, you don the robe that gave you a tough time throughout the shoot. When you press the tails of the robe to your cheek, the softness of the material is soothing. Soft, like Jin’s eyes, like his hugs, like his smile. Like him.

Leaning against the counter, you steady yourself, mind split in titillation. Your fingers find their own path, drawing circles on your breasts over his shirt, imagining Jin’s long fingers in place. While teasing your nipple to pointed peaks, you slip your other hand under your panties, trying very hard to mimic his digits, twiddling your clit between your fingers. Alas, the effect isn’t achievable, because Jin seems to know how to play you better than yourself.

The scent is getting stronger, without any provoking, and it is doing wonders for your immersion. You let out a loud moan when your fingers press inside, and you’re just glad no one can witness this.

“Y-Y/N?”

Fuck.

You are pulled away from your dreamland that was so impenetrable that you didn’t hear Jin step into the room. All the blood gushing to your nether regions has made a U-turn to flood your brain to think of a plausible explanation for this position. Instead it makes you giddy, and when you try to stand you wobble in your heels, to be rescued by what you think is a very scandalized Jin.

Time stands still when your eyes meet, and what you see are blown out pupils trembling, many questions fluttering between you two. Jin crosses a tenth of the distance between you, lips flutter as they try to make a decision - do they want to part and give way to the voice of question? The voice of reason? The voice that will break this hush, burst this bubble where he has the one chance to give in to his longing?

You bring your lips closer, and cause immense disquiet in his dome, the way of his heart gathering speed against rationale. Your eyes dance between matching his gaze and finding his lips, every fraction of an inch you cross sending tremors through you. You can feel the shockwaves traverse through your body, making a pitstop at your lips, tingling them awake. They move downwards, passing your heart, beating it wildly against its cage, and then to the pit of your stomach to tighten in anticipation; finally reaching the tip of your toes, where you stand right now, a nanoscopic distance between you. Each one of you is afraid to cross the bridge, unaware of the other’s desires.

Finally, Jin acqueises and meets you on your side.

Atomic explosions ring through your head, clearing out every single thought that is not about Jin’s lips on yours. The ropes that held your heart from beating to the tune of your want, they’ve loosened their knots to give you the leeway to love freely. As your lips exchange positions, his teeth lightly drag across your plush petal, and it brings back the most important part of that night that you couldn’t recollect - the one where his lips sang wordless songs of adoration against yours. Blind as a bat, you were.

You dig your fingers into his hair, not minding your residual arousal coating his locks, and you feel his hands doing the same to you. With your eyes closed, you feel a rough edge to his cushiony soft lips, but Jin fixes that mistake - one stray strand of hair trapped in the middle of your indulgence - he pulls it away to give you all of the kiss. The hand tucked in your tresses pushes in, silently demanding more access, and you’re nothing but ready to give it.

His tongue sneaks in to play a game with yours - when you seek it, it goes into hiding, finding perfect pleasure in soft, sweet kisses, but when you stay, it comes back in, awakening your tongue to deepen again. Everything he is doing is too much and not enough in one go, and you whine into his mouth in desperation, seeking some well-earned relief after months of holding back.

Amidst the flurry of your lips, your back hits the vanity countertop, and Jin pushes away everything on top to make space for you, not caring what expensive item flies down the counter to accommodate your ass.

As if you’ve made up for the months of holding back, the softness of the kisses erodes, teeth coming into play more and more, reminiscent of the night that went by in a blur. He swallows every mewl you give in return, blissed out beyond repair, your neediness making his cock strain against the denim.

His hand snakes down, spreading his fingers to get a hold of your back to push you towards him, covering any gap that dared to intervene. Now unworried about the shoot, your hands have effectively ruined his perfectly placed locks and messed them up to resemble the craze he let you spin in.

Before he can glide his tongue back in, you break the kiss, lest you lose yourself in it to the point where you forget to breathe. With attached foreheads, you take deep drags of air, letting the oxygen flow to your brain before you make some ill-advised, unclarified decisions.

“I- I was jus-”

“Shhh. Wait,” he breathes out, wanting to take a second and fully savor the moment. You nod in return, making his head move along with yours.

After sufficient air fills his lungs, Jin starts. “Y/N, we should stop.”

Last time this had happened, you had tried to force your way through his barrier, without giving his feelings a second of consideration. So this time, you don’t repeat your mistakes. “Tell me why.”

“Because, I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I’m way deeper in this than you think.”

“Jin, I-”

“Let me finish.” He stops you before you can explain how much you reflect his emotions, possibly more. He doesn’t seem to want to listen now. “Let me finish, or else I’ll chicken out, for the millionth time.”

You’re dumbfounded. Millionth time? When was the first? Acting majors, by God.

“I love you, Y/N.”

No, now you are dumbfounded. Your hands, holding his precious locks, drop down in shock, at sheer disbelief that all this time, he has been ready and waiting to return you the favor. Jin though, misinterprets it as a look of disdain.

“I-I know I do, and I’m sorry that I do. I know you don’t feel the same way. You can hate me all you want, but this is the truth.”

“And yes,” he continues, refusing to halt for even half a second, afraid that the courage he mustered to confess would dissipate the moment he does, “I’m attracted to you, and I don’t know what went down here --” flicking his wrist to mention your (his) outfit, “--but I’m looking, okay? And I’m hard as fuck. But that’s not all there is to it.”

“I need all of you.” He takes an audible gulp, trying to stymy his emotions from overpowering him. “I want to take you out, I want to hold you hand, I want to bring you to all the places I love. I want to introduce you to people, not as my best friend, but so much more than that. It hurts me,” bringing his hand to his chest, he emphasizes the point of pain by clutching over his heart, “hurts to call you that because I’m lying through my fucking teeth.”

You break eye contact, because there are tears smarting your eyes at his heartfelt revelation. You can’t believe the idiot that you have been all this while. The man of your dreams stands in front of you, baring his soul, and you can’t even do him the decency of telling him what you felt yourself before jumping his bones.

And you love him, too. Maybe you haven’t said so, even to yourself, but you’ve known all this while.

You love him.

“If you are just looking for a fuck, or want any sort of a ‘benefits’ situation, we should stop. I can’t lie to myself anymore.”

“Jin, my God,” you half-sigh, half-laugh, feeling a burden lift off of you after months of pining.

“You don’t have to pacify me, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Even in this moment, he is looking out for you. His lips are curved upward to show you that he’s okay, but his pupils are shaky and restless, not in sync with his smile. You hope your next words can fix that for him.

“Pacify you? Hate you?” You shoot him an incredulous look, one you will explain to him very soon. “You are a much better person than I am, Jinnie. For months now, I’ve loved you, but even at this point, I didn’t stop to tell you.” The guilt of letting your hormones cloud your judgement for the second time lays heavily on your conscience. “I’m sorry for not making this clear earlier, but let me now. I love you, Kim Seokjin. I have for way too long. I want you, I need you. You have me, in every possible way.”

It feels unparalleled to get that off your chest. The leaden weight of your emotions immediately disappears - or the fact that it's shared, makes it much, much lighter. But then you look at Jin, and he still seems to have not put two and two together. You patiently wait for him to process all the information.

When he finally recoups, he yells, “What?!”

You let out a loud guffaw, the first one with no inhibitions in the longest time. “What?”

“Why didn’t you say anything that day at the cafe?!”

“You said you’d never date me, asshole!” You punch his chest softly, before slipping your hands behind him and pulling him closer. “I might not look like it, but I have some dignity.”

“I said that?” Jin brings one hand to pinch his nose in annoyance. “What an idiot. I think I was just inverting everything to make sure I don’t accidentally slip up.”

You lift your head to meet his eyes again, letting him see the tears you were hiding. You find a couple in his eyes, too. But the smile on your face is genuine, and that is all that matters. “I was blind too, so don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Flitting your eyes down to find the contour of his cock against his jeans, you ask him innocently, “How about we make up for lost time?”

“Fuck, yes, please.” And with that, your lips are engulfed again.

When you have all your guards down, the kiss tastes sweeter than before. Mere moments ago, while thoroughly enjoying the kiss, a sense of reticence had clouded your pleasure, holding you back from luxuriating in the headiness. A series of what-ifs had plagued your subconscious without your realization, but with all that cleared, you wholly submit to the kiss, emptying your mind until nothing but his name remains.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jin gasps out, when you bite into his pillowy lower lip, “I thought you looked the prettiest in the dress earlier but,” after pulling away, he drinks your current attire in, “you look the most beautiful in this.”

You snicker. “Even more than World Wide Handsome?”

His eyes bore into yours, no hint of the joking lilt he always carries in them.

“So much more.”

Your hands find their place amidst his shaggy hair again, and you lodge his face into your neck - a command Jin acquiesces to with great pleasure. After a long, wet lick to your collarbone, he lays feather-soft kisses on the trail he left, starting from your shoulder and working inward, until he brushes against the back of your ear. You grasp at his sweater, because his lips feel so good. Your breaths are short, sucking in every time he allows your skin the luxury of a soft peck. Once he lays a kiss on your forehead, he brings his gaze down to one of the main reasons that causes his cock to stir.

“Fuck, look at your nipples under my shirt.”

Gazing down, you can see the two pointed peaks that caught Jin’s eyes.

“That tends to happen when I’m thinking of you.”

He twists a nipple over the shirt, hardening it further, and you throw your head back in the satisfying pain. “Yeah, I remember.”

You are unraveling every second, the ache swishing amongst the bliss his fingers are bringing in you. He’s switched over to drawing circles around your nipple, until he snaps and tugs your shirt up, finally revealing the palmfulls of flesh awaiting his hands.

“Ah that night, I didn’t get to do this. Take this off.” But then, he makes you put on his robe again. You throw him a questioning look, to which he responds with a sheepish smile, “Just so, you know… you don’t feel cold… or something.”

“Just say you like me in your clothes and move on.”

“I love you in my clothes,” he admits in a heartbeat, his expression that of anguish, “can we move on?”

“God, gladly.”

Unexpectedly, he bites the side of your boob - not hard at all, but feeling his teeth against your skin sends your head reeling backward. Your involuntary response is to wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your core against him. His teeth continue to nip you lightly across the expanse of your breasts, the trail of saliva he leaves cooling parts of your flushed body. Finally, finally, he latches onto your left nipple and gives it a long, pleasurable suck.

“Ahh, Jin - you’re too - God damn it - you’re too good at this.”

Without stopping the onslaught he is unleashing on your breasts, his fingers begin to move - but soon, they stop, hesitation rippling off of their tips. His pace falters, and his mind is fighting on the next course of action.

“Can I-”

“Finish what you started that night?” you complete for him, already prepared with your answer. “Yes, please.”

All forms of uncertainty shoot out of his touch, and he confidently trudges forward. Playing with the band of your panties, he gives you a well-intended chuckle, murmuring, “As far as I remember, I was so good you passed out.”

“Boy,” You groan, intended in jest, but his teeth slide against your jaw and it mostly comes out more wanton than jovial, “let me see you have tequila for dinner and remember much the next day.”

“Fair fair,” he gives in, shifting to buss the valley of your cleavage, feeling your heart thud against your ribs holding it in place. “Well today,” he starts without moving his face, his nimble fingers moving past the barrier of your underwear, pressing two fingertips directly on your clit, and hissing like it's him at the receiving end, “I’ll give you enough to remember.”

You pull his sweater off and chuck it away, not wanting to be reminded of any blockades that kept you apart, and your hands roam the expanse of his back remembering the touch of his skin from the night at the bar. His body isn’t new to you, but the circumstances make it feel different.

Finally, his fingers find their way inside you.

Yes, this. This was what was missing from your drunken tryst. With your heads in place, your ardor intensifies, and you move his lips back to yours needing to release your animalistic desire into his mouth. Pleasure surges through both of you as you threaten to swallow him whole.

You can feel him being more present, and considering the merciless finger-fucking you had earned that night, this is taking it to a whole other degree.

The night at the bar, his fingers did their best to ravish you, but now, Jin is paying attention, close attention to the way you respond. Every muscle movement is recorded in him as you struggle to accommodate three of his lengthy digits. Leaning close, he gives your peaked nipple the lightest feather lick - the suddenness sends shockwaves through you as he continues to tweeze the other, talented pianist hands performing his musical piece on both ends of you.

His fingers pump into you with determination, finding new depths to explore that he missed out on, and with a curl of his pointer, you blank out, screaming in the orgasm that is washing over you. Every skincell of your body feels the quiver of lust spreading, your cunt squeezing for an eternity, milking the orgasm out to the extent that you can.

When you look down, your metaphorical orgasmic flood manifestes as a deluge of your arousal leaking on the table. And when you look back up, you can see the salacious ideas making their rounds in Jin’s head as he looks at the inundation you released.

Hurried hands still convulsing from the intensity of your orgasm, you undo his belt, followed by his jeans and finally - getting the pleasure you were heartlessly denied of - his cock is out, in all its glory, twitching as the cool air hits its naked skin. Jin’s plans don’t go hand in hand with yours though.

“Are we just - holy fucking shit - just, umm, leave that to waste?” he lustfully looks down to your leaking core, and someway, through your hold on his dick, he tries to steer you into his plans.

“I don’t know about that,” you cheekily reply. You have the right idea to satisfy both of you, and get down to the task.

With the flat of your palm, you swipe across the droplets of cum you released, gathering them to transfer them onto his thick length. Jin thrusts into your hand, the wetness jolting him into attention, and he places an arm on your shoulder to steady himself.

“You’re going to taste yourself?” he asks as you continue your vacillating motion, twisting at the base of his head with the wetness you graciously provided yourself. You give him a nonchalant look, something he is trying to do to you as well.

“Who said I’m gonna suck you off?”

His look changes, and the one you get in return is cocky, arrogant, downright rude if you were honest. You expected him to play on with your banter, but one raised eyebrow and the lazy smirk he gives, to what he probably thinks is a joke - Zeus could land on earth and not be able to stop you from gobbling his meat.

Your mouth is filled with his dick even before your knees hit the ground. Jin staggers back, but your suction on his dick is funnily strong enough to pull him back before falling. You switch positions, having him balance himself against the counter, all while you refuse to leave his cock out. His giggle of endearment has you pouting, but it swells your heart and makes you want to give more, more of anything and everything. With your renewed vigor, you push yourself in until his pubes tickle your nose, and his tip tickles your throat.

“Your-”, “I-”, “uhh-”

Every new sentence Jin starts crumbles to your actions. You furrow your brows both in concentration on your blowing skills and trying to decode what he is trying to say.

Jin takes a large gulp, adamant on making this one a coherent sentence. “You know, I used to imagine this, and in my dreams I used to be very sexy and suave, talking my way throug-oof-” You run your tongue over the tip of his leaking dick, emphasizing the point he is coming to, “Now I can’t even complete sentences here.”

“You being you is super sexy in itself.” And you curve your tongue to match the arch of his cock, letting the incoming saliva pool on it before letting it run down his shaft, dripping down from his balls. Strings of his precum connect to your lips, and you swipe your tongue through them, relishing the salty goodness before going back in for more.

“Y/N, shit, did you just moan?”

How couldn’t you? The fact that he is horny for you, so much so that rivulets of precum don’t stop drizzling down your throat, has you preening. You hum your assent in response, not willing to let go even for a moment, but Jin pulls you off before you can get a chokehold on the base of his cock again.

“Never had a woman moan while sucking me off. It’s sexy as fuck,” Jin breathes into your lips as he dives in for a kiss.

Your chest is heaving, catching the breaths you lost when you were down. “Then why’d you stop me?”

“Are you kidding me? I was about to lose it right there.”

“Jinnie, come on,” you break the fragmentary kiss you were sharing, looking into his glassy eyes, “let me feel you come on my tongue.” To emphasize your conviction, you lick his lips, persuading him of the sinful deeds your tongue is capable of doing if he’d just let you.

“Oh man, stop. What’s worse than busting a nut in your mouth? Busting it while you’re kissing me. Making me feel like a teenager.” You erupt into a loud laugh, soon followed by Jin as well. It is so him to joke about this.

“And babe,” all hints of embarrassment vanishing from his tone, “I’m only going to come inside you.”

“Fuck, fuck, yes. You got a condom on you?”

“Yeah, let me grab my wallet.” The instant he moves away, you feel naked, shivering from the comfort stolen away from you. But then you hear Jin grumble, “I hope I don’t have the bacon-flavored one.” And the absurdity of it all puts you at ease again.

“Ew, stop, even you can’t make that sexy. My lady boner is dying.”

He envelops you again, and you can feel the laughter echoing in his lungs before making it out to your ears. He brings your attention to the familiar rustle of foil wrapper. “Thankfully, we got chocolate.”

“Mmmh, gotta love chocolate.”

You take the condom out of his hands, and roll it onto his stiff length, flattered that he’s holding his erection for so long.

“Okay, stick it in me!” And you smack your ass in readiness, and a very flabbergasted Jin breaks out chortling.

“Y/N, stop being my best friend for like, five minutes!” His brows are furrowed in pretense exasperation, but you can see his lips holding back a genuine smile through the grimace, just happy that your dynamics haven’t changed the slightest, even though everything else has shifted.

“Okay okay,” you try and suppress your own laughter, before continuing, “how do you want me, baby?”

“Bend over on the vanity. And keep your eyes on the mirror.” And as you move into position, his palms grab your ass and squeeze it hard, feeling your glutes push back against his grip, and he pushes you forward till you're on the tips of your toes. You watch him through the mirror, watch him admire the way your ass curves over the table edge, how your toes struggle to keep you up, and how the dimples of your back are deepened by the arch, peeking under the bunched up robe tails, just waiting for him.

“Jin.” Your hushed whisper puts him in action.

Pushing the head in is anguish and relief at the same time. His bulbous head stretches your entrance; even with your preparation, you feel it sting. The searing gets better and better with every inch slipping in, and when he finally lodges inside, you let out a heavy breath, still panting and keeping yourself from screaming bloody murder in pleasure. Jin bends forward to paint the back of your neck, sucking the flesh till the circular bruise comes to surface.

“Can you- can you-fuck, no, wait-” Your brain is at war with itself, battling between adjusting to his girth and having him pump you into adjustment.

You can feel Jin’s snicker from behind you, and he finally makes the decision for you. “I’ll wait, I have things to do here,” he says before playing around the patch of skin, spreading from the base of your hair to the expanse of your back, his teasing licks relaxing your walls and accommodating his girth. The pain is almost gone, expect for the lingering ache that only helps you.

“You can move now, babe.”

“Okay, okay.” Your words snap him out of the painter’s dream he was in, and he twitches inside you. Something about the ease at which you both have adopted nicknames for each other softens his heart and hardens his cock.

Pulling out till only the head rests inside, Jin himself struggles against the third degree grip your pussy has on him. As he is thrusting inside again, your walls tense up, making it harder and harder for him to hold back.

“Y/N, sweetie, relax. I got you.”

“Jin, I’m-” You have tears running down your eyes, the pleasure and unsurmountable happiness rolling out in fat hot drops. “Fuck me harder. I won’t last.”

“Shit. Okay, hold on then.”

To what? Is what you’re going to ask before Jin unleashes his carnality onto you. Your breasts, dripping in sweat and saliva, are plastered to the countertop, which in itself is jiggling to the beat of Jin’s thrusts. His dick is curving inside to hit you repeatedly, and you have to gather the satin fabric to wipe your eyes to keep your gaze fixed on him.

He looks majestic. Forehead embellished with beads of sweat, his hair coiffed up, lips sanguine red after your vicious kisses - you swipe your tongue along your own lips to find them battered in response. His honey chest is heaving with every push, and a particular one hits you just right.

You let out a guttural groan, and Jin takes note of it immediately.

“Up,” he commands, and loops an arm under your belly to you pull you up and closer and now every thrust hits deeper into that spot he has found in you, your back connected to his chest as the two of you move in tandem; this is the most together you’ve ever felt with anyone. This moment is to be etched in your memories forever.

You scream into your fist to muffle the sounds, the edge of the table digging into your hip bone as you feel yourself getting closer to the brink. One swipe to the clit is all you have left to bring you to your release.

And from some telepathic force, or from the clutch your pussy has on him, Jin beats you to it. His fingers come down and carefully find your swollen nub, pinching it between his fingers. If he thought you’d shown him your hardest clench, he was wrong, because right now your dam has broken, and the iron-clad grip you give his cock sends him reeling, too.

You are gushing on his dick, the rubber dripping with your wetness. Jin too releases into the condom in stuttered gasps, his thrusts becoming shorter and shallower as he comes down from his high.

Petal-like kisses fall on your back as the two of you regain your breaths. The mirror that served you two well is covered in a fog of hot breath and perspiration, blearing your vision of yourself, but somehow, it sparkles with Jin’s reflection. His nobility-esque visuals use the haze as a valance for his appearance, framing them to make him look like you’re among the clouds. And in some way, you actually are.

“Ah, let me go.” You jiggle your shoulders back to make the man above you move. “Fuck, can you check if my spine is in place? I think you dislodged it.”

“Shut up and come hug me, I’ll squeeze it back in place.”

Now this is something you could get used to.

As he ties and throws away the used condom, you flip over to face him and fall back into his embrace, broad shoulders promising to protect you, making you feel safe in his care. Jin on the other hand is simply ecstatic to feel you on him, feeling your thumping heart beat for him, after months of pining and pondering whether anything would become of the seed of your tumultuous friendship. Now, it has blossomed to a garden of prospect and promise, every petal of every flower here reading a new opportunity to tell you how much he adores you, cherishes you, treasures you. How much he loves you. An opportunity he doesn’t wait to use.

“I love you.”

The pink tinge of your cheeks either comes from the sex, or from his comment, but either way, he is glad its from him.

“I love you too, Jin. So, so very much.”

If your heart could leap out of your chest, it would do so, to find its way to his and fuse into one. But for now, your entwined bodies give you all you want.

You hear Jin stifle a laugh, and pull back in question. He points to something odd on the countertop.

“What is that?”

The cream white surface of the table, that was maligned by your ignoble deeds, now sports two glistening, wheatish semi circles that look very similar to the sizes of one person who was splayed on top of it just moments ago.

“Is that…” Jin is trying to contort his lips and halt the looming snicker, and he brings his eyes down to your chest (trying not to get hard again), “Did you have makeup on your chest?”

“Shut up.” All you can do is fall closer into his arms, hopefully masking the tint of embarrassment highlighting the apples of your cheeks. “I wanted to make them look extra good for you.”

He’s given up on holding back, the full-bellied laugh that resonated from him echoing across the room. But it dwindles down fast, coming to small chuckles of tenderness, and he slips his digits beneath your chin to have you meet his gaze.

“They always look good,” he whispers, his admittance setting your chest aflame, “trust me, I’d know.”

Taglist 💛: @little7bitchh, @afangirllikeme-blog, @h34rt1lly, @marpotterhead

Thank you so much for making it to the end! I hope you enjoyed the fic, my ask box is always open for your lovely opinions. To read more of my work, find my main masterlist here. :)

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heyhihellowhatsup0 · 4 years ago

Text

Hooked On Your Feelings - Prologue (FWB! Tom x Reader)

Warnings: Some angst, language, eventual smut in future chapters, fluff

Word Count: 2570

Summary: After a bad breakup, making an agreement with your womanizing neighbor, Tom to be friends with added benefits and no strings attached seemed like the perfect idea. Until things become messy, emotions caused your agreement to crumble.

A/N: So I’m starting a new series! I always wanted to do this trope for Tom and I’m realllllly excited for this series! I’m not completely sure how long it will be as of right now, most likely between 8-10 chapters. So if you want to be added to the taglist, please DM me! I hope you all enjoy the prologue and can’t wait to hear your thoughts on it! (Also credit to @osterfield-holland-andcompany for this amazing ass mood board I made her too..I’m obsessed!) Thank you xx -N

“Get out!” you screamed as you shoved your now ex-boyfriend out the front door of your apartment. You knew the walls were thin but you didn’t care. You were so completely filled with rage and your body was vibrating as you flung his pants at him, “Get the hell out, Justin!” you shouted again.

Justin flinched as the door swung open and he stumbled out the front door, still in his boxers. The anger in your eyes made your pupils black while he grabbed his pants and rolled his eyes at you, “Will you just let me explain, Y/N?” he tried to speak but you cut him off with a dry and sarcastic laugh.

“No. The conversation is over,” you snapped at him, taking another deep breath to try and pull yourself together. You felt yourself fighting back the tears because you didn’t want him to see you cry. Not again, anyway.

Watching as Justin stumbled down the stairs, you stood at the top completely and utterly overcome with your anger you barely recognized your voice. But you knew you had every right to be mad. You couldn’t excuse his behavior and you were done defending him. You knew you deserved better than the shit he was putting you through. It was enough and now you were letting it all pour out as he was practically falling down the stairs.

You grabbed the shoe he had dropped on his way out the door and aimed it right towards his head, missing and making a loud thud against the wall behind him. You probably just woke up the entire floor but you didn’t care right now. Forming a fist, you refrained from punching the door as you finally lost it, “Don’t call me! Don’t even walk down the same street as me anymore, do you hear me? You conniving son of a bitch!” your voice bounced off the walls with an echo as you watched Justin exit your life through the elevator, still with his pants in his hand.

You couldn’t help yourself as you flipped off the closing doors while you let out the breath you were holding in. Your chin began to tremble as you tried to stop yourself immediately. He wasn’t worth it, you thought to yourself. You should be proud of getting rid of him. Especially after what he had done to you.

Just as you were heading back into your apartment before anyone realized you were the cause for the commotion, your neighbor’s door flew open and made you jump when you saw his familiar face meet yours from across the hall. You saw his smile as he noticed you and you knew what that meant, you just weren’t in the mood right now to assist in his little escapade.

“Y/N! Oh, I thought I heard your voice out here,” your neighbor from 3B made his way over to you with bare feet, brown curls a mess, with his grey sweatpants resting low on his hips as his bare chest was revealed to the entire floor, “Thank god! I need your help with this chick inside who is talking about meeting her family this weekend and I’ve known her for...three hours,” he cringed as he carefully tip-toed his way over towards you.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes because this was a regular thing for him, even if it wasn’t your business. But he was a friend of yours, in a neighborly way at least, so at some point you made it your business.

“No,” you scolded him as you shook your head. You tried to hold in your laugh at the desperate look on his face but you couldn’t help, “Not tonight, Tom. No! C’mon, seriously? No!” you warned as he began to give you puppy dog eyes to try and convince you otherwise.

Tom pressed his palms together and pressed them to his chest, praying for your assistance, “Please, Y/N! I owe you so much if you help me out and this is the last time, I swear,” he paused for a moment when he realized you were standing by your door this late at night and you looked as if you had gone through hell. His lips tightened as he suddenly grew concerned, “Wait, what are you doing out here right now?” he questioned.

You sighed as you pinched the bridge of your nose, “Um...I sorta caught Justin sleeping with his co-worker so I was just kicking him out, sorry,” you don’t know why you apologized for it but you knew you didn’t want Tom or anyone for that matter to see you when you were this visibly upset.

“He did what?! Fuck...Y/N, I’m so sorry,” Tom said as he offered you a hug, pulling you into his bare arms while he tried to make you feel a little bit better, “That guy was a fucking prick and I never really liked him anyway,” he told you, making you laugh through your tears while you pulled away with a small smile showing.

Running a hand through his curls to smooth them over, Tom squeezed your shoulder playfully, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m probably a bigger mess than you right now,” he told you as he cringed at what was waiting for him back in his apartment.

“No, you have a bigger mess than me,” you corrected with another eye roll. Quickly wiping your tears away you placed a hand on your hip while taking another breath towards Tom and his stupidity, “If I do this, you owe me big time,” you sighed.

Tom was a good guy but the decisions he sometimes made were, to say the least, questionable. You didn’t know too much about his personal life but just enough to come to the realization that he couldn’t commit to much of anything. He was always bringing random girls home, roommates came and went, and he had a tendency to flake on tenant meetings at the last minute.

There was no question that he wasn’t looking to settle down, you never once saw him with the same girl more than once and that was none of your business nor concern. Tom was a good neighbor to you. He watered your plants for you while you were out of town visiting your family, he kept his music down to an appropriate volume, he would even bring you pizza on occasion to eat together while you gossiped about the other tenants on your floor. And sometimes in return, he would ask for favors like bailing him out of sticky situations that you tried not to judge too harshly.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Tom gave you another hug with a kiss against your cheek, “I will owe you for fucking life, Y/N,” he thanked you as he waited for you to head into his apartment to do what he clearly was too afraid to do himself. Letting girls off bluntly was something he was never good at. Then again, that was a whole other issue he didn’t want to think about.

Tom followed you into his place as you glared at him when you saw all of the clothes strewn across the living room floor. Making a face at the boxers on the ground you shuddered at the thought of what the hell went down in this apartment as you watched Tom nod towards his bedroom signaling that she was in there.

Nodding your head you rolled your eyes before you got yourself into your character. Seconds later, you whipped around and channeled your anger towards Tom as you slammed his door shut, “Save it, Tom! I won’t hear it! I come home after taking a double shift for us and this is what I come home to?!”

Tom gave you a thumbs up that you were doing a good job as you slammed your fist against the nearby counter, “I just spent fourteen hours stripping to pay your way through law school so we could afford a better place to live and this is the thanks that I get? You fucking some random girl?!” you shouted while you shook your head towards Tom with a shrug.

“Woah, nice touch. I love the story line this time,” Tom whispered with an approving smile as he pointed towards the bedroom door, signaling for you to go and get rid of her.

You stormed into the bedroom, already seeing the girl scurrying to find her shoes, “Oh god! Please, I’m so sorry,” she pleaded as her red hair swung back and forth while she adjusted her sequin cocktail dress. Limping through the threshold of the door she couldn’t even look at you or Tom as her face grew red, “I had no idea that he-”

“That he what? Was married? Was cheating on his wife of seven years? You still want this son of a bitch?” you asked the girl who shook her head ‘no’ nervously, “The both of you need to leave! Get out!” you pointed towards the door as you focused on Tom.

Tom apologized to the girl as she practically ran out the door before he turned to you, “Darling, please let me explain! Think of the children!” he begged you as he still noticed the girl was in earshot.

“I want a divorce and I’m taking both the kids! You won’t have two pennies to rub together by the time I’m done, Thomas! Do you hear me? I can’t believe you would-”

“She’s gone,” Tom cheered silently as his door finally closed with a sigh of relief. He rushed to the fridge to grab two beers as he made his way over to you, “Both the kids? Really?” he teased while he clinked his bottle up against yours.

Giving him a shrug, you brought the beer to your lips as you collapsed onto his couch, “Well if you kept your dick in your pants for once maybe you wouldn’t have to ask your neighbor to make up such elaborate lies on the fly to kick girls out of your apartment,” you teased right back as Tom took a seat right next to you with a pout on his face, “Am I wrong?” you questioned him with a giggle.

“Well, technically, no. But then, where’s the fun in that?” he laughed as he took another sip. Trying to figure out why he even did half of the shit he did anymore. He knew there wasn’t any fun in any of it. Not anymore, anyway. It made no sense, especially if he wasn’t getting anything out of these situations except drama. And he hated the drama of it all.

You made a face at Tom, “I guess no more fun than watching the guy you were in love with make out with his co-worker,” you stare at the bottom of your bottle, letting the alcohol swirl around your brain as you tried to push away those thoughts. You didn’t want to think about Justin again. It was still fresh but you weren’t ready to move on just yet.

“Guess we both should be alone for a while, huh?” Tom stated as he slumped further into the couch. Downing his beer as he set it aside on the table. This feeling was beginning to come more often than not with Tom after he dismissed one of his...conquests. He didn’t like it anymore because it was suddenly beginning to make him feel like this but he kept doing it anyway in hopes it would go away. But so far it only got worse as the nights rolled in and you came by to kick out more of them. He was lucky you were here because he didn’t feel like being alone right now.

The room fell still as the two of you remained on the couch in silence for a bit. Trying to blur out the events that had taken place earlier with Justin, you finished your drink and placed it beside Tom’s. You knew you wanted something serious and Justin was not that, even though you knew he was going to be trouble from the get go. You knew perfectly well what you needed but maybe you just needed some time for you right now and not to jump in to things that were going to be messy. You wanted numbness but at the same time you wanted to feel something that you hadn’t yet.

Turning your head to face Tom, your eyes met his in the dimly lit living room. The muted TV gave off the only illumination while you both remained there in your tipsy states, trying to figure out where both of your nights had gone wrong.

“I really don’t want to be alone,” you finally broke the silence as you stared into his eyes before they flickered towards his bare chest, back to his eyes slowly.

Tom swallowed as he shook his head, “Me either,” he agreed in the same tone. He noticed you were looking at him and more importantly the way you were looking, but he found himself not minding at all as his eyebrows raised up a bit when your lips crashed into his.

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#tom holland #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland fic #tom holland smut #tom holland x y/n

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vannahfanfics · 4 years ago

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Stereo Hearts

Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Denki Kaminari, Kyoka Jiro

Hello, everyone! It is my pleasure to present my story for the @kmjr-mini-bang! A super big thanks to my partner @chiztec who drew an absolutely stunning piece to accompany my story, as well as Amii and nish, who were kind enough to beta my story. I hope you all enjoy the finished product!

Denki sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that night. He laid on his bed, thumbs twiddling as his hands were clasped over his stomach. His worried gaze could have bored holes into the ceiling if he had the right Quirk. He felt a little silly, fretting so relentlessly over something as simple as a high school graduation. For most students, it was a time of excitement, a chapter of transition in their lives as they went bungling on into adulthood. Denki was eagerly looking forward to getting out there and showing the world what Chargebolt could do. Adulthood wasn’t exactly what he was worried about.

He hadn’t told Kyoka that he loved her yet.

“Jeez, that sounds right out of some corny chick flick,” he groaned and rubbed his palms over his eyes. He grimaced as nervous sweat smeared across his face. He flopped his arms back down against the bed with another forlorn exhale, eyes lidded as he envisioned the beautiful, talented girl he’d fallen head-over-heels for their first year. Everything had seemed to get in the way of professing his feelings for her, and also, he felt a little… unworthy. He was a great big massive dork, not nearly cool enough to even be seen with someone as pretty and sophisticated as Kyoka.

He’d probably short-circuit and go into “yay” mode when tried to confess to her.

Groaning, he rolled onto his side to grab his phone off the charger. It wasn’t like he was sleeping anyway. As he unlocked it, his thumb came to rest over the screen, and his golden eyes stared at the time burning in white numbers in the center of the display. The time was inching closer to midnight. Soon, it would officially be the day of his graduation. The realization sent a sinking feeling spiraling into the pit of his stomach.

He was running out of time. Everyone made well-intentioned promises to keep in touch after high school, but everyone knew that almost never panned out. You went on, to college or to a career, you got insanely busy, and next thing you know you haven’t talked to anyone you know in years and made new friendships. Denki swallowed thickly, mindlessly bringing up his favorite picture of Kyoka in his gallery. She was smiling brightly, so hard her eyes were scrunched up into little half-moons. She’d made that face for Denki when he’d surprised her for her birthday with an expensive album she’d been eyeing since its release. When she’d smiled at him like that, he’d almost electrocuted everyone in the room because he’d been so damn in love.

He was still so damn in love.

He pulled up Kyoka’s contact information. His fingers hovered over the keyboard. Would she even be awake right now? He wondered with a tiny sigh. Probably not. It was the middle of the night. Still, he found himself texting out a message.

Hey, are you awake?

He rolled back over and set the phone down on his chest to stare up at the ceiling again. He fully expected his message to go unanswered, so he began losing himself in the confusing stream of “what ifs” and regretting every moment he never chose to tell Kyoka how he felt. He was so lost in thought that he nearly jumped out of his skin when the message alert rang through his quiet bedroom. He fumbled with his sweaty hands to pull up Kyoka’s response.

Yeah, I’m awake. What’s up?

A sappy smile bloomed on his lips, and he rolled over, snuggling into his mattress while typing out his reply.

Just thinking. What about you?

Three dots popped up on the message screen, quickly followed by a simple, Same.

Denki ruminated on his thoughts for a moment, thumb hovering over the keyboard. He didn’t even really know what he wanted to say, or what he wanted to do. He wasn’t enough of an ass to confess to Kyoka over text, no… It had to be more special than that, something that she was deserving of.

A cheesy grin slowly appeared on his face as he recounted a conversation he’d overheard— Kyoka talking to Mina about her favorite romance movie tropes. Believe it or not, Kyoka secretly adored them and often requested them for the girls’ movie nights. He’d always stored that information in the back of his mind, just in case it would ever become useful…

Yeah… he thought deviously. He threw off his covers and scrambled over to his closet to throw on something halfway-decent. He couldn’t profess his undying love in a pair of All Might pajama pants, after all. He inspected himself in the mirror after wiggling into a pair of skinny jeans and a band tee-shirt that Kyoka had bought for his last birthday. He licked the palm of his hand to slick down the flyaways in his blond hair, turned his face left and right, and then gave his reflection finger-guns.

“You got this. You’re a stud. Ladies love ya!” He grinned encouragingly. He held the expression until his face hurt, trying to will the confidence into existence. Then, he flopped his arms and hung his head in defeat. “She’s probably gonna laugh,” he snorted. “But,” he added, peeking through his bangs at the mirror. “I still gotta try!”

Before his courage could fail him, Denki snatched up the vintage stereo sitting on his desk— another birthday present from Kyoka— and scurried out of the room, hopping on one foot down the hall trying to slip on his Converse. He slowly tip-toed past Tenya’s dorm clutching his stereo to his chest; their class representative had a nose for trouble, especially Denki’s shenanigans, and had caught the blond many a night trying to sneak away and get up to no good. It seemed that luck was on Denki’s side this evening, as he made it to the stairwell without inciting a peep for the tall bespectacled boy’s room. He breathed a sigh of relief and gathered himself for a moment before proceeding downstairs.

He treaded carefully, having long since memorized the creaky spots in the wood in his many misadventures. The tip of his tongue peeked out of his lips as he used the sparse moonlight to guide his steps down to the first floor. It was slow going, but the even best-laid plans were ruined by haste. He could feel his cell phone vibrating in his back pocket, probably Kyoka wondering why he suddenly stopped texting her.

All in due time, my dear Kyoka! <3

When Denki reached the first-floor landing, he cautiously peered out into the gloom. It wouldn’t be the first time he surprised another student who had fallen asleep in the lounge, or worse, Mr. Aizawa, who had relocated to the common room to stay up late grading assignments. Thankfully, Lady Luck was generous and granted him passage through his second trial; the lounge was empty.

Denki stole away through the darkness, like a thief in the night, to the back door. He grimaced as it creaked loudly and looked over his shoulder. After an agonizing half-minute of silence, no one emerged from the dark to scold him, so he elected that the coast was clear. He slipped outside, and the warm wind immediately enveloped him, clouding him with a cologne of night-blooming flowers and dew. He stared out into the side alley, the concrete path that led him to the space just beneath Kyoka’s balcony— and began to doubt.

I’m really going out on a limb here, he gulped and clutched the stereo to his chest until the metal creaked. His absolute worst nightmare wasn’t Kyoka rejecting him… but laughing at him. He tried to tell himself that Kyoka would never do something so callous, but he worried all the same. It was such a frightening thing, putting yourself out there. The mind tried to worm its way out of it whenever possible.

But it’s now or never! Even if she laughs at me… If I don’t do this now, I’ll regret not doing it for the rest of my life!

Denki was going to go out on this limb, even if it broke underneath him and he plummeted headlong into bitter heartbreak. He could always put himself back together again. Resolute, he tromped down the small alleyway to the rows of balconies jutting out from the dorm.

He counted under his breath until he found Kyoka’s sliding glass doors and fluttering curtains. He set the stereo down by his feet and finally pulled out his phone to discover a series of confused messages from Kyoka.

Hello? You text me first, and then don’t answer me? What’s up with that?

He smiled, sensing that playful bite in her tone that he’d fallen head-over-heels in love with.

Come out onto your balcony, he answered. Before he could stow his cellphone, it buzzed with a quick reply.

What? Why?

Just do it! He insisted in mild panic. He’d failed to consider that Kyoka would just tell him to shove off and go to bed. As nervous sweat condensed on his forehead, he heard the faint click of the door. He jerked in shock, inadvertently dropping his phone face-down on the concrete. He cringed, already imagining the crack spiderwebbing across the glass screen.

“Denki?” he heard Kyoka call suspiciously as he ducked down to hit the power button on the stereo. It automatically started up a CD of Kyoka’s favorite songs that he’d burned on the off-chance that he would need it. Just as she came to the edge of the balcony, he straightened up and swept his hand through his hair, smiling bashfully. Her eyes widened, refracting the moonlight as her ears drank in the pretty tune streaming from the stereo’s large speakers. “Denki?” she repeated perplexedly. “What are you doing?”

He nudged down the volume with his toe while a blush rose to his cheeks.

“Look, I know this is corny as hell, and you probably don’t appreciate being called out at three in the morning, but I’m kinda desperate here,” he admitted, nervously rubbing at the back of his neck and chuckling. “You know how I told you I was thinking? I was thinking about you. How your smile lights up my whole life, and when you sing it sounds like an angel walking this Earth, and how damn lucky I feel to have shared these last three years with you. How cute you are when you laugh, and gush about romance movies when you think nobody notices, and how badass you are that it leaves me breathless.”

As he rambled on and on about everything he absolutely adored about her, Kyoka’s face glowed like a pink opal in the moonlight and her wide eyes glimmered like gems. By this time, the noise had attracted the other girls from their dorm rooms, and they sleepily peered out at Denki pouring out his heart and soul to their startled classmate. His cheeks darkened with embarrassment, but he’d already said so much; there was no going back now.

“I was thinking about how stupidly in love I am with you, and how if I don’t tell you now that I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. So I love you, Kyoka, and I’d be really stoked if you’d go out with me.”

A ripple of gasps rang out from the girls’ mouths, and they all looked expectantly at Kyoka. The girl gulped audibly and pawed at her dark hair, which was sticking up in odd places and tousled with sleep. Her earjacks nervously writhed above her shoulders and her eyes cast down as she considered Denki’s confession. All the while, he stood there holding his breath, waiting and listening to the love song serenade the silence.

He was beginning to feel a bit faint and like he was going to start sparking when her eyes finally flickered up to meet his own.

“I’d be really stoked to go out with you, too.”

The girls erupted into cheers and squeals, jumping up and down while clapping their hands. Kyoka blushed under their ecstatic congratulations. Their whoops and hollers attracted the boys from across their halls, meandering out onto the girls’ balconies to investigate what all the fuss was about. Denki shrunk under all the attention, twiddling his fingers and turning as red as a tomato.

“Aw, congratulations, you two!” Izuku called with a big smile.

“It’s about damn time,” Katsuki grumped from beside Eijirou and Ochako. “I was getting sick and damn tired about him mooning over her like a lovesick sap.”

“Hey, bro! Don’t you have a nicer way to say congrats?” the redhead scolded, making Katsuki snarl.

“Denki Kaminari!” came the expected chastising. Denki flinched and grinned apologetically at Tenya, who was gestating emphatically on Tooru’s balcony with his nightcap flapping. “What is the meaning of this? I understand the romanticism, but it is the eve of our graduation ceremony! It is imperative that we be rested to do justice to our prestigious institution, not straggle in like zombies! Have you no sense of decorum?”

“Oh, can it, class rep,” Mina chided. Tenya leaned down over the balcony railing with an affronted gasp. The pink girl’s smile was wide as she winked at Denki. “So, stud. Are you gonna just stand there, or are you gonna come give your new girlfriend a kiss?”

“Mina!” Kyoka hissed, turning her head so hard and fast that Denki swore he heard her bones snap. Denki jumped, stuttering nonsensities, and dipped down to retrieve his stereo. It was still blaring as he sprinted back into the dorm and up the stairs. Kyoka was standing in her doorway as he came barreling up the steps, tripping over the laces of his Converse and nearly plowing headfirst into the wall. The rest of the students watched with bated breath, crowding in the other doorways and on the steps behind him.

“Hey, Kyoka,” Denki swallowed, holding the stereo to his chest as he timidly approached her. His breaths came in ragged gasps from his rapid staircase sprint, and a sheen of sweat stuck his hair to his forehead. He doubted that he looked the picture of handsome— but Kyoka still smiled coyly as he approached, tucking her hair behind her ears and staring at him like he was her knight in shining armor. His golden eyes never left hers as he set the stereo on the floor and rubbed his palms on the denim fabric of his jeans.

“Hey, Denki,” she smiled shyly. His heart fluttered just at the sweet sound of her voice, and he swore he fell in love all over again in that moment. His body moved instinctively as his mind was ensnared by her unconscious charm, stepping close to her and using his index finger to slowly tip up her chin. He sucked in a breath, enchanted by her shy little gaze and slightly parted lips.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“Just kiss her already, you asshole, I’m tired!” Katsuki yelled from down the hall, making both of them jump. He heard Eijirou scold him under his breath and elbow him in the ribs, making Katsuki unleash a string of unflattering curses. After the fiery blond’s grumbles had died down, Denki smiled bashfully at the pink-cheeked Kyoka. She fluttered her eyelashes demurely, then flickered her gaze down to his lips.

Well, if he was waiting for an invitation, that damn sure was it.

Without further ado, Denki leaned in to gently capture her in a sweet kiss. His heart sung as she hummed slightly, making his hair stand on end. He almost wondered if he’d strayed into a dream, that his fantastical whimsies had come to fruition only in his subconscious. However, when he pulled back and opened his eyes, he knew he was awake. He could never dream the way she looked at him then, with such utter adoration that it made his heart ache.

“All right. Show’s over,” Katsuki grumbled, skulking off toward his room. Denki rolled his eyes but leaned down to finally switch off the stereo. When he straightened back up, their classmates had retreated into their rooms— leaving them alone. Kyoka shyly swung from side-to-side, hugging herself with a sheepish grin.

“That was pretty smooth,” she admitted.

“Really?” he asked excitedly. Her cheeks darkened a shade of pink, and then she nodded. Denki suppressed the wild urge to embarrass himself with a happy jig. Kyoka would probably find it charming, but he wanted to hang on to some sense of decorum, as Tenya had put it. After several minutes of staring adoringly at one another, Denki finally drawled dreamily, “Well… We should probably get back to bed… Tenya’ll be mad if we’re tired at the ceremony tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” she said, sounding just as enthused about ending the moment as he was. Neither of them moved for several seconds. “You should go, Denki,” she reminded him, finally prompting his sluggish body to move. He scooped up his stereo, never breaking eye contact, before rising to clutch it to his chest. “I’ll see you later,” she reassured him with a light laugh, before retreating into her room. She didn’t close the door, just gazed at him like he’d hung the moon in the sky— and he would, for her.

“Yeah,” he said as he began backing away towards the end of the hall. When she finally shut the door, he risked his happy dance, jitterbugging back to his room. Just as he flopped onto his bed, his phone buzzed. He pulled it out with furrowed brows, and then broke into a stupid smile.

I’m looking forward to our date.

His thumbs flew across the screen to type up a reply as he rolled on his side and snuggled into bed.

Me too. Goodnight, Kyoka.

She must have drifted off, because there was no reply. That was all right. After a minute of goofily admiring her contact picture, he finally put his phone on the charger and settled into bed. Sleep took him easily this time, gifting him dreams of what was to come.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#kamijiro #kamijirou #jirokami #jiroukami #kaminari x jiro #jiro x kaminari #denki kaminari #kaminari denki #kyoka jiro #jiro kyoka #my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha fanfic #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfiction

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lonelysonnet · 4 years ago

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Pick Me Girls Syndrome

These days I'm loving how people are calling out the "pick me" girls! If I understand the term correctly these are the girls who gets off on guys telling them "they're not like other girls" or wanting all the attention on them bc they're somehow "more special" than everyone else.

Oh the dozens of main character chicks that has this "pick me" syndrome! Like they'll do stupid crap and then act like the victim with zero accountability AND/OR They'll be cool with the guys in their life treating other women like crap as long as the men are nice to them! The worst of those examples that come to mind are Serena Van der Woodsen and Elena Gilbert. OMG the number of times I was annoyed by these two making stuff about themselves, and playing the victim after doing stupid sh*t! Or in case of Miss Gilbert, she takes it to another level when she's cool with her man treating women like crap as long as hey "he picks me!" They write these women as somehow special yet throughout the show I'm scratching my head as to WHY.

I think Joey from Dawson's Creek also had this problem to an extend, just in the sense that, she clearly thought she was better than other girls (like Jen Lindley) but the good thing about Joey is that once she went off to college she actually grows out of this syndrome. I like that bc then it's character development! Like lbr we all probably had this syndrome when we were in HS wanting to seek the male validation. Heck, most 90s romcoms are built on the "pick me" syndrome. Even Rory Gilmore unlearns the "I'm better than other girls just because" trope to actually NOT slut shame a bunch of women bc Logan couldn't keep it in his pants!

So basically what I'm saying is I absolutely welcome the scrutinizing of the "pick me" girls in tv (and irl). Because as girls/women, let's please UNLEARN the toxic idea that we have to be always in constant competition with other women just to feel validated by the male populous. So I'm going to end this by quoting TS (bc when I was in HS it got us girls major "pick me" points to fake hate Taylor Swift istg):

"But we figured you out, WE ALL GOT CROWNS"

#sorry everyone today with coffee #i had some feminist cookies #or something #gossip girl #tvd #the vampire diaries #gilmore girls #dawson's creek #joey potter #rory gilmore #anti serena van der woodsen #anti elena gilbert

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narniadynasty · 4 years ago

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Susan Pevensie + Tropes

Ojou ringlets - An easy way to tell if a female character in Japanese media is of high social standing is not to look for the Requisite Royal Regalia, but to look at the front of her head. Specifically, look for two curled locks of hair draping the sides of her face. The rest of the hair may be straight, curly, or anything in-between, but she must have two curls from either the hair directly in front of or directly behind the ear, and falling in front of her shoulders rather than behind, if it is long enough. If she has these, she either is high class or acts like it.

Girlish pigtails - Also known as twin tails, handlebars, or bunches. A type of hairstyle where the hair is gathered into two "tails" on either side of the head. Usually, but not always, left loose; braided tails have a more Granola Girl or Tomboy connotation.

Expository Hairstyle Change - Sometimes when you have to show something important about a character, it's not appropriate or wise to wheel out the Mr. Exposition and explain what's going on, and in general the easiest way to do this in visual media is to change the appearance of a character, specifically, their hairstyle, since this can be done cheaply in live-action through the use of wigs or other non-permanent alterations and can be undone just as easily.

Tomboy & Girly Girl - When the main characters in a show are both females, or if there are only Two Girls to a Team, it almost always leads to a case of this trope. The "Girly Girl" will highly care about her appearance, pursue "girly" interests, and is often (though not always) The Chick. The "Tomboy", who is often The Big Girl, will be into sports, mechanics, house and/or building construction and/or renovation, or the like

Brainy Brunette - Stereotypically speaking, in fiction, blondes are lacking in intelligence, redheads have short tempers, so, out of the trio, brunettes are all brain.

The Smart Girl - This is the one on The Team that uses their head. As the intelligent one, they come in when the team needs deep analysis, clever tactics, or there's highly technical work to be done.

Girly Girl with a Tomboy Streak - This is a Girly Girl who has some tomboyish qualities or interests. She could have an interest in boys sports, hate the color pink or love boyish colors, not mind getting messy, be a Big Eater, or hate dresses and wear baggy pants.

In-Series Nickname - An In-Series Nickname is not a Fan Nickname, although it can frequently be used as such. Instead, it is a nickname specifically given in-series, not even by the producers alone. It is always regarded as canon.

Book Dumb - Many main characters in children's shows (and in adult's shows featuring children) are explicitly shown as doing very badly in school, despite showing themselves to be of at least average intelligence in most other areas of life. This isn't inconsistency on the part of the writers, though. The kid is just Book Dumb.

#narniaedit #tconedit #The Chronicles of Narnia #narnia #narnianetwork #mohgif #t. gif #c. susan pevensie

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tellywoodtrash · 4 years ago

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immj2 02.11.20 lb

this fucking episode my dudes. i just went through it like...

business maharani is doing some more bitchification of bhaabi, ki dekho phir nikal gayi aapke peeche. even used the same lameass mandir excuse, the idiot, instead of coming up with something new.

hubs like riddhima is a major pain in the ass, but she's MY PAIN IN THE ASS, where isss sheeee, why isn't she back yet???????? is she ok????????????

ishani getting a call about someone in the hospital and......

bitch, it's her friend who's in the hospital. why the fuck would anyone call ISHANI of all people if riddhima was in the hospital????

lo aa gayi.

gujarat registration gaadi waale bhaiyya was a careful driver. unlike literally everyone else on tellywood. good for him.

concern!maxxxxxxxxxxx about her haalat.

asks about her bleeding hand and she's like i'll tell you if you tell me about how YOUR hand got hurt. noice.

again, rrahul's not putting on the vansh voice in this scene and it's 300% more watchable. for the love of god stop directing him in a way that impedes his performance!!!!!!! LET THE MAN MOVE HIS FACE AND TALK IN HIS NORMAL VOICE!!!!!!!!!!!

cliche dialogue about “shareer ke ghaav jaldi bhar jaate hain par dil ke ghaav..........”

this asshole is like yeah who would know that better than me???? BITCH WHAT IS THIS, THE TRAUMA OLYMPICS???

she's thinking ki yeah, i'm not gonna fall for your fakeass parwaah anymore. good. i like. she needed this stupidass illusion of her's broken longggggggggg back.

ohohohohoho ib waala mangalsutra breaking and slipping off trope idhar bhi hai.

“tooti hui cheezein kabhi kabhi dobara nahi judti.”

dialogue maarke chali gayi, lol.

but notice she's the one who caught it anyway. which makes me think she's gonna choose him/this relationship YET AGAIN. *deeeeeeeepest sigh in the world that sucks up all the oxygen in the atmosphere*

“jaise mera dil.”

OHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOH.

“lekin ab waqt aa gaya hai bohut se cheezon ko sahi karne ka.”

again, he looks menacing and all, but is probably just talking about making sure all the paperwork is up to date for upcoming end of year audits. he's a very rich accountant, remember???

ragini's medical reports have come.

lol being married to ishani is taking yearssssssss off angre's lifespan. roz naya tension, naya drama.

also, angre refers to vansh as "vansh bhai" when talking about him to ishani, but calls him "boss" when referring directly. interesting. veryyyyyyyyyyyyyyy interesting. you guys need to sort out that relationship, my dudes. it's the only stable, healthy one in this whole damn show.

ishani is like you're his right hand, what the hell are you doing about riddhima spying on him and getting all up in his business???????? dang, this might be the first conversation they're having about their only common interest: vansh's well being.

also i notice ki shivaay ke saare shirts angre ko diye gaye hain. huh, the shirts must have a kanji eyed wearer clause in their contract.

“mujhe shakti dijiye ke main apne emotions se upar uthke sahi ke saath khadi rahoon.”

damn, first time i've had a lil respect for riddhima. i mean, i know ultimately it's all gonna go to shit, but she's trying.

lmao a dhaarmik aarti version of the title track is playing. a version for every situation!

“main ragini ko bacha ke rahoongi. yeh mera aapse, ragini se, aur apne aap se vaada hai.”

YESSSSSSSSSSS BITCH, SISTERS OVER MURDEROUS MISTERS!!!!!!!!!!!

OMG WHY WON'T Y'ALL JUST DRESS HIM LIKE THIS, LIKE ARNAV, WITH THE SHIRT AND SWEATER COMBOOOOOOOOOOOOO. PLS GODDDDDDDDDDDD STOP DRESSING HIM WITH THAT STUPID SCARF WAALA BLAZERRRRRRRRRRRRR I BEG OF YOUUUUUUUUUU

he's talking to some shadow (def a woman) about how they're his humraaz about the whole ragini issue and nothing is hidden from them and how everything is going as they planned and the story will end soon.

it might be siya but omg i hope to goddddddddddddd it's ishani. i really really reallly want it to be ishani and see the hot demon siblings do some scheming and planning together. the sibs that conspire together, stay together!!!!!!!!!

menacing growling about riddhima and how he needs shadow chick's help in "handling" her, so that she doesn’t leave the house.

“chaahe VR mansion uske liye jail bann jaaye, i don't care.” cool, real healthy. also copied from this week's naagin 5. i'm telling you, these two shows be copying their homework off each other.

vansh leaning real hard on how he trusting shadow chick. hmmmm. reallyyyy hope it's ishani. though can’t say i wouldn’t be delighted if siya also turns out to be just as fucking twisted as him.

ofc ms. snoopy here has come to snoop. SIS TUM THAK NAHI JAATI KYA ISS SAB SE. MUJHE TOH DEKHTE HI THAKAAN HO GAYI HAI AND I NEEDS ME SOME GLUCON D.

“ragini riddhima se jeete-jee milna toh door, usse dekh bhi na sake.”

uh a little too late for that my man, lol. your girls already had a catchup session this afternoon. they're going for brunch and manis next weekend!

oh ho, she knows that angre's gone out. so this is def someone else in the house. DAMN, I'M REALLY INVESTED IN THIS SHADOW NOW.

yaaar, kya haalat bana rakhi hai shivaay ke room ki. best room hota tha iss set ka, aur isko bas ek random space banaa rakha hai.

ASLKFJSLDKJFLSDKJFLDKSF

this fucker crazyyyyy. like fulllll on flipping cray cray!!!!!!!!!!!!!

wow ok he's shaking from rage. more unhinged than i've ever seen him. which is really something. something scary as fuckkkkkkkk.

kudos to riddhima for just being like same old, same old, instead of being scared. i'm really liking i-give-no-fucks-riddhima.

DUDE. THIS FUCKER HAS COMPLETELY LOST IT.

also knife play copied from shivaay. this dude like a much much worse version of shivaay. never thought that would be possible, but never say never with ITV and the year 2020.

ok i don't like this angry version of him that's outta control, all shaking and growling and panting. not only is it really bad acting, it's hard to take seriously as menacing. ppl are always scarier when they're ice fucking cool with their anger.

blah blah blah some more growled warnings and riddhima and i are just here like............. “ok and????”

she's not even allowed to leave the room.

oooooh brave sis questioning him back and provokingggggggggg himmmmmmmmmm. got a death wish, this one, but i like her like this. i was sick of her just collapsing all over the place weeping. thaaaaaank god she found her longlost backbone.

“tum jaise haiwaan ki baat kabhi nahi maanungi.”

sarcastic slow clapping and slightly turned on by this show of dheentness.

“chalo aaj tumhari bahaaduri ko celebrate karte hain.”

uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

“piyo, zeher nahi milaaya hai ismein.”

OK NOW THAT YOU SAID THAT I'M DEFINITELY THINKING THAT YOU HAVE.

omg ridhhimaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa you idiottttttt.

ok he's def put something in it. his face almost looking pitying as he takes the glass back.

“jaao. jahaan jaana hai jaao. nahi rokunga tumhe.”

ohhhhhhhhhh boy.

dslkfjsdlfkjdslkfjdslkjflkd her legs don't work no moreeeeeeeee.

THIS FUCKERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. JESUS CHRIST THIS CRAZY ASS FUCKING D;SLFKJ;SLDKFJ;LDSKJF;LDKJ

EVEN THE CHANNEL PUTTING BIG BOLD DISCLAIMER OVER THE SCENE LIKE THIS SHIT IS SERIOUSLY UNHINGED AND FICTIONAL THE CHANNEL ABSOLUTELY DOES NOT CONDONE THIS FUCKING MADNESSSSSSSSS

I CANNOT STOP SCREAMING THIS FUCKERRRRRRR IS OH MY FUCKING GOD WHAT THE EVER LOVING FUCK IS THIS THIS SHIT IS MAKING 4 LIONS MEN LOOK LIKE SOFT CUDDLY LIL SOFTBOIS I AM LITERALLY GOING OUTTA MY MIND WITH RAGE AND ANGUISH WHAT THE FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

i need a break. i seriously need a break to go cuddle my cat coz my god this deranged fucking showwwwwwwwwww.

ok cuddle break done. i’m not feeling any better but at least the tears of blood have stopped flowing from my eyes?

all i gots to say at this point is that CHEELANSHU SINGHANIA FROM NAAGIN 5 WOULD NEVER DO THIS. ONCE AGAIN SANKIIII CHEEL BOY >>>>>>>>>>>>>>> HUMAN MEN.

“haiwaan hoon main. rakshas hoon. aur rakshas kuch bhi kar sakta hai.”

electric chair for you, dude. ELECTRIC FUCKING CHAIR, GREEN MILE STYLE.

he literally gave her a paralytic.

“isse ek luxury relaxing spa treatment ki tarah enjoy karna.”

OMG I WISH I HAD SOMEONE MAKE ME SLIP INTO A PARALYTIC COMAAAAAAAAAA WHAT ELSE COULD A GIRL WANT FROM PRINCE CHARMING UWU TRUE WUVVVVVVVVV

omg inn paplu taplu ka chip waala naatak abhi bhi chal raha hai BIGGER THINGS HAVE HAPPENED IN THE HOUSE YOU IDIOTS KEEP THE FUCK UP LITERALLY NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOUR SADAA HUA MEMORY CARD ANYMOREEEEEEEEEE

anyway they decide to put it in the bank locker. omg why though, under the mattress was suchhhhhhh a safe and secure spot!!! badal kyun rahe ho tum log?!?!?!!?!?

“good morning.”

sis, lower half is paralysed. haath abhi bhi kaam kar rahein haina??? PICK UP WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU CAN GET YOUR HANDS ON AND HURL IT AT HIS FUCKING HEADDDDDDDDDDD

“don't worry, bas kuch der ki baat hai. uske baad tum apne pairon pe khadi ho sakti ho. main tumhari help kar deta hoon.”

TELLL HIM SIS. TELL HIM TO STAY THE FUCK AWAY AND NEVER EVER COME WITHIN A 3 DISTRICT RADIUS OF YOU.

“phir se zidd. tumhara naam riddhima nahi, ziddhima hona chahiye tha.”

ok can't deny i lol'd at that.

OK NO BACK TO HATING HIM. PUNS WILL GET YOU NOWHERE WITH ME, YOU BLOODY PSYCHOPATH.

“abhi toh bas ek chota dose diya hai jiska asar sirf 10 ghante rehta hai.”

oh how sweet. such a considerate husband. Star Parivaar Pati of The Year you are. haan behen, aur rakho aise pati ke liye karwachauth.

“agar baat nahi maaani, toh agla dose double hoga.”

seriously though, where can i get one of these? all i want is to be put in a coma so that i don't have to be conscious anymore. esp with the USA election today............ give me a 5x dose, daddy.

YEAH RIGHT LIKE SHE'S EVER GONNA CONSUME ANYTHING YOU OFFER HER EVER AGAIN LOL

“tum chaahe kitni bhi koshish karlo vansh, main tumhe ragini ko nuksaan pohunchaane nahi dungi.”

determination toh behen ka top classssssssssssss hai. where do ppl get such mental will from? i face the slightest inconvenience and i need a 6 hour nap to cope.

LMAO VANSH YOU DUMBASS YOU LEFT HER WITH HER PHONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. YOU KNOW SHE'S A SPY AND HAS SOMEONE ON THE OUTSIDE. YOU WANTED HER NOT TO GET TO RAGINI BUT NOW SHE CAN JUST CALL WHOEVER SHE’S WORKING WITH TO GET RAGINI THE HELP. GOD, BEWAKOOFON KI TOLI HAI YEH SHOWWWWWWWW.

ab yaad aayi kabir ki. my god, he seems like such a mellow weirdo now compared to vansh, just into some casual costume-changing and quasi fratricide. almost a tolerable level of deranged compared to this other fucking madman.

sent a voice note to him.

SHE HEARD SOMEONE COMING AND FLUNG THE PHONE ACROSS THE ROOM INTO A PILE OF CLOTHES. OH HO WHYYYYYYYYYYYY, YOU COULD HAVE LITERALLY JUST HID IT BACK UNDER THE PILLOWS WHERE YOU FOUND IT!?!?!??!?!?!?

“hi riddhima! tumhe iss haal mein dekh kar, dil ko bohut sukoon mil raha hai.”

asldkfsjflkjdslfkjdl i honestly love her the most. she's so fucking petty and hilarious.

ishani is like thank god bhai has seen fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinally seen your real face.

“sirf vansh ne hi nahi, inn sab mein maine bhi vansh ka asli chehra dekh liya hai.”

“kya matlab hai tumhara?!?!!”

ok, i'm thinking ishani is shadow girl. from day 1, she’s wanted riddhima to see vansh in a certain way; as someone dangerous, the way he projects himself. (as opposed to dadi and siya who want her to see his soft side.) this statement from riddhima makes her wary that did she get close to the actual truth. INTERESTING. VERYYYYYYYYY INTERESTINGGGGG.

she's now grumbling about how vansh treats her much better than she actually deserves. I REALLY WANT MORE INSIGHT INTO THIS BROTHER SISTER RELATIONSHIP THEY HAVE IT'S SO INTRIGUINGGGGGGGG

le, kapde chale gaye laundry. phone ke saath.

———————————————————————

precap: kabir listened to the voice note and now him and mummy are in panic about ragini disclosing the truth about 3 years ago. RE DEVAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. OFC THESE TWO WERE INVOLVED IN THAT KAAND TOO. LITERALLY EVERY ONE IN THIS SHOW IS A DERANGED MENACE TO SOCIETY.

kabir coming to meet riddhima.

but ofc.

ugh she turned back saying “K.........” and he's like there's literally no one in this house whose name starts with K.

*facepalms for allllll eternity till my godforsaken face itself falls off.*

i think i’ll go watch s2 of mirzapur now. i need something ~~~light and fluffffffffffy~~~ to take my mind off whatever the FUCK this was.

#ishq mein marjawan 2 #immj2 #immj2 lbs #episode liveblogs

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manessqueeze · 4 years ago

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Promise

For Malex week, day two: tropes (fake relationship) TW for homophobic slurs and homophobia/biphobia, nothing too angsty but it’s there Read it on AO3

“Hypothetically speaking,” said the man who had appeared out of nowhere and plopped down next to Alex at the bar. Only his years of military training kept him from jumping out of his seat or tackling the guy to the ground. “If I were to put my arm around you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear to piss off my dickhead of an ex, would you punch me in the face?”

“Yes,” Alex replied without a thought as he took a long pull from his bottle of beer before turning his eyes on the—oh, shit—gorgeous cowboy beside him. How he’d kept his eyes from wandering down his impressive jawline to the man’s mouth when he bit his lip, Alex couldn’t say, but he would also attribute it to his military training. Though if he were being honest, that had a helluva lot more to do with his father than he wanted to entertain at the moment.

“With your fist or your lips?”

The smile gracing the man’s own had Alex willing to admit he’d prefer the latter but not before he made the man work for it. He let his tongue flick out to chase the taste of hops on his lips then smirked a sultry reply. If he decided to go through with it—and let’s be honest, how could he not? The guy was a walking wet dream—he might as well play it up. “Haven’t decided.”

The man, with eyes like fire and corkscrew curls tempting Alex to run his fingers through them, moved in a little closer, enough for Alex to feel the heat of his body and the flames of his own desire he’d gotten so good at controlling burst out of control. Not how he expected his night to go, but he had a decent enough buzz working that he could blame it on the alcohol if things got too far out of hand.

He felt the cowboy’s breath caress his skin when he whispered, “I promise to make it worth your while.”

“Lips it is,” Alex replied, not expecting but absolute on board with the sudden press of lips against his, more tender and tentative than he’d expect from a rugged cowboy whose calloused fingers splayed over the sensitive skin of his neck, but Alex didn’t judge. He did however fist his hands into the man’s shirt and pull him close, so close, so impossibly close, so fucking deliciously close that his mind whited out and relegated everything but this sexy cowboy who’s name he didn’t even know into the ether.

And yes, okay, getting the shit kiss out of him in the straightest bar in town with the gayest name hadn’t ever crossed his mind as something he needed to put on his bucket list, but there it was.

And he did not, he absolutely. Did. Not. Whine when the future Mr. Manes broke the spell and pulled away leaving him a panting mess as he tried to remember how to breathe again.

“The fuck, Michael? I thought you said you were done with all that fag shit,” some drunk chick hollered beside them. Alex blinked over at her and tried to let the homophobic slur slide off his back like he always did. It helped that the hands gripping his waist hadn’t wavered, strong and sure, and maybe a little possessive.

“No, I said I was done with dickheads like you, not with dick itself. I very much like dick and I will absolutely continue to get down with all this fag shit because of it, thanks.”

The dickhead threw her hands up and huffed. “You know what? It’s over.”

“I’ve been telling you that for a month. I’ve moved on, Monica, hence my super hot boyfriend here,” Michael said, arms tightening around Alex.

“Yeah, well I hope you’re happy with your little gay dick and your little gay wedding and your little gay babies.”

“Actually, we’re raising the children bisexual,” Michael corrected before turning his attention back to Alex. “Ain’t that right, darlin’?”

Alex tried not to laugh, he really did, but watching Monica’s head almost explode before she screamed and stormed out had forced it out of him. He bowed his head as he shook with laughter, his forehead coming to rest on Michael’s chest when he moved in closer. Alex hadn’t built up the courage to let go of his shirt yet, but Michael didn’t seem to mind, a hand still perched proudly on Alex’s hip. He liked the way it felt there, like a secret promise destined not to break.

“That could’ve gone better,” Micheal said before clearing his throat and leaning back.

Alex straightened to look up at him. “I don’t see how.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s unbalanced.”

“Clearly.”

Michael sat down on his barstool and Alex finally untangled his fists from his fabric.

“Really didn’t mean to drag you into this, cute guy who’s name I don’t know.”

“I’m Alex.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Alex. I’m Michael. And if I had known she’d go all homophobic on us, I wouldn’t have asked for your help, but thanks anyway.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” he said with a wave of his hand. The kiss more than made up for it.

“I seriously thought she’d just fuck off if she saw me with someone else.”

“Some people can’t let go.

Michael reached up to adjust the collar of Alex’s shirt, the brush of fingers against his skin felt like another promise. “Some people shouldn’t.”

Alex wanted to stop time and crawl inside that moment. He wanted to live there, locked forever in the way his heart seemed to speed up and slow down simultaneously as Michael looked at him, like Alex was something precious, something special, because no one had ever looked at him like that before, like he mattered.

And maybe for the first time, he believed that he did.

Maria cleared her throat behind the bar and both of their eyes snapped to her knowing smirk. Nope, Alex could not deal with her tonight. She'd ruined the moment, but he knew he couldn't have stayed in it anyway. Thankfully, she passed their drinks across to them and disappeared to the other end of the bar with a word. She always read him like a book. He’d make it up to her tomorrow.

A few shy glances took the place of witty banter, but after another shot of whiskey, Alex felt compelled to ask, “Do you always have such shitty taste in partners?”

“With women? Unfortunately.”

“And with men?” Alex asked, his eyes meeting Michael’s under the dim lights as he hoped he didn’t come off too desperate for wanting to get to know this guy in spite of the drama he’d just witnessed.

“I sure hope not ‘cause you’re really hot. And it would probably destroy my faith in humanity if the crush on you I’ve been nursing from the corner booth over there the last few weeks came back to bite me in the ass.”

Alex blushed. As a general rule, boys didn’t crush on him. He longed from afar on unattainable men and maybe got lucky every once in a while thanks to grindr. But he felt brave, though he couldn’t decipher where to lay the blame: on Michael or the booze.

“I usually reserve ass biting for the second date.” That had Michael choking on a sip of whiskey, and Alex almost felt bad about it, but he pushed ahead and leaned in to whisper in Michael’s ear, luscious curls that smelled of rain tickling his nose as he pressed in close. “But you did promise to make it worth my while.”

And that dick loving cowboy did not disappoint.

#malex #malexweek20 #michael x alex #roswell new mexico #Lucie writes words #tw: slurs #tw: homopobia

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vandergeld · 5 years ago

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hey everyone welcome BACK to my blog , hi , how are ya ? i’m RUZZY ( or ru , rudy idk if thats too much lmAO ) & i have not been apart of a group in 84 years ............ that graphic is so extra but i was bored & first impressions are everything , ANYWHO this is my mans WARNER played by my mans GRAYSON DOLAN , who lacks f’n resources so i gotta work some magic w/ all these gifs on tumblr lmao so any gif icons are noT mine for the most part they’ll be taken from gifs alr created ( s/o 2 the fly hunnies that made ‘em ) anyway ya’ll don’t really care abt me lmao soooooo here’s warner ! PLS feel free to hmu ANYTIME for the plots & things of that nature u could lit never bother me idc , my discord is 𝐫𝐮𝐳𝐳𝐲𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐳𝐢#1643 if u everrr need to get ahold of me when im not on tumblr !

𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐍, cismale, he/his. → look out, there’s 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐃. you know, the 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 year old 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 of 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐀 𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐀𝐃𝐀 𝐌𝐔. you know, i overheard someone say that they were 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄, 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 , 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 and 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐃. but that’s just rumours. fresh new pairs of air jordan 1's, the roar of a crowd in a stadium, and lost weekends come to mind when i think of them. what about you? [ ruzzy, he/him, 18, est ]

TW : CANCER MENTION , SMOKING MENTION .

// » GENERAL :

FULL NAME : warner evangelino alexander vandergeld ( inspired by the antagonists of white chicks lmaooo ) .

HOMETOWN : new york city , new york .

NICKNAMES : dumbass .

AGE : twenty .

BIRTHDAY : october twenty-first .

ZODIAC : libra .

GENDER : male .

PRONOUNS : he & him .

NATIONALITY : american .

ETHNICITY : german , italian , irish .

LABEL(S) : the golden boy , the lothario , the jock .

TROPE(S) : chick magnet , hormone-addled teenager , unwitting pawn , upper class twit ,

OCCUPATION : college student & collegiate football player & full time frat bro .

FRAT : beta lambada mu .

MAJOR : environmental science .

POS : charming , charismatic , brave , athetic , dedicated , eco-friendly , high-moral compass , book smart , kind , energetic , optimistic , loyal ( most of the time ) , respectful , well-rounded , level-headed , ambitious , debonair , life of the paty .

NEG : compulsive , easily-influenced , dimwitted , hypersexualized , problematic , addictive , rebellious , bemused , defensive , clingy , hopeless-romatic , overly-competitive , envious .

INSP : nate archibald ( gossip girl )

// » PAST :

warner was born & raised in the city that never sleeps and is the product of evangeline moretti-vandergeld , an intelligent american-italian socialite turned environmental politician , and captain william vandergeld , a former navy captain , and now a shareholder in some boring fortune 500 company that allowed his wife and son to live an affluent , and privileged life . his mother however , was the real deal , often using their sum of wealth to donate to multiple charities , organizations , etc, she was dedicated to keeping new york city ( and all who lived there ) clean and safe , and she instilled those same values onto her son.

some people are born lucky , and others , lucky to be born . warner was the first option . his childhood was nothing short of happiness , and happiest days were with his mother , for as long as he could remember , any happy moment in his childhood was faded right into her.

things took a drastic change his freshman year of ( private obvy lmao ) high-school . warner’s mother was diagnosed with breast cancer , and little to his knowledge , it wasn’t looking pretty from the start . she was frequently in and out of the hospital for a few months at a time and it was not looking good on any fronts . one day when she went to the hospital it seemed like she never left , maybe she didn’t , those days were a blur for warner to be honest . watching his mother lose life , every single day was not a task he was up for .

by then it was just warner and his father , they were all they had in the big city . ( when he wasn’t always away on business ) warner grew up in that big luxy town house all by himself , with the company of loyal maids , chefs , and nannies of course . but in high school , the more he really submerged himself into it , it was a crazy world & he loved it . whilst getting demands from his father in tokyo to attend those boring sailing classes , warner instead headed out to their beach house in the hamptons for an early 20 rager .

warner undoubtedly knew the power he possessed , big man on campus type & it felt good , until about towards the end of his junior year he was honestly all partied out , but of course reputation is everything , in order to keep up thats when he picked up the real ugly habits , that were of course fun . smoking numerous amounts of marijuana , various girls in - and - out every other day was a feeling like no other , he knew it was wrong , he knew his mom would be ashamed , him doing all these things and not carrying on her legacy in some way . but he couldn’t help himself in a all honesty , and no doubt some of that transitioned over in college .

// » AES :

lost weekends partying , chicken wings & french fries , air jordan 1′s , gucci guilty cologne , friday night lights , clouds of smoke & red eyes , diamond encrusted jewelry glistening under bright lights in a dark room , nike sweatsuits , game winning moves , new york city at night , hamptons in the summer , spring break in miami , impulsive decisions .

// » TL;DR :

( and some stuff i probably missed oops ) warner is a conflicted mama’s boy who knows half the shit he does is wrong but can’t stop . after his mothers passing he had an absent father who seemed to always be away on business , only in town for a month or two , missing his sons’ multiple feats to keep himself distracted from the fact that his wife was no longer with them. created immense daddy issues for warner , especially since he was a standout football star & 2x stage champ in high school , and is currently playing collegiality for the irish , with dreams of making it in the nfl cause screw his dad he don’t wanna go 2 the navy , or work for dat company # not gonna happen . warner took great advantage of wealth & his fathers absence , but he’s lowkey partied out in college , or so he likes to say but he fakes it ‘till he makes it bc he doesn’t his brothers to think he’s lame . HE’S LIVING FOR EVERYBODY BUT HIM BASICALLY .

// » HEADCANONS :

warner is on a football scholarship majoring in environmental science bc although he most likely won’t do shit w/ da degree its for mommy .

he can EASILY be manipulated or taken advantage of , he’s book smart but lowkey dumber than a fucking box of rocks

immastonerbyyoungthug.mp3 . occasionally , but , more so than that ? he always manages to flush out his system in time if needed be , but he loves 2 roll up # stress relief

a BEAST on that field ( student athlete meme here )

has all the canon gray tattoos bc fuck what dad thinks . he wears a solid 16 inch gold chain , and another of the same length with his moms’ name on it , never fucking takes it off , showers with it cause he can .

ok ........ he rich , but like not i can do whatever i want rich ??? he may not ever have to work a day in his life , but he don’t got the pull u think he does w/ his dumb ass u probably couldn’t even tell he’s got money with his minimalist fashion sense .

he has a higher moral compass than most of his frat bros , but the stupid shit he does , u most likely won’t even be able to tell , he’s definitely a serial romeo and a heartbreaker , one compliment ? he’s ready to drop his pants & fall in love w/ u .

HE DUMB , but like he can talk his way into & out of anything , most of the time , batting those big brown eyes & a million dollar smile has saved his ass on multiple occasions .

// » WANTED CONNECTIONS :

EX-GIRLFRIEND : i’m thinking his first & only “ serious “ relationship while in college . were going pretty steady until he cheated on her ( hmm wc on who he cheated on her w/ ?? ) , she never found out but that guilt ate warner TF UP so he cut things off with her via text message and blocked her number , ignores her any chance he gets ‘till this day , cause he doesn’t have any balls and cannot face his fears .

FRAT BROS : lowkey what i’m MOST excited for asdfgh like whoever is in beta lambada mu hit me the fuck UP so we can discuss dynamics , roomates , allat .

FOOTBALL TEAM : same for above , he’s lowkey cocky & got sly comments when he’s on the field , he constantly humbles himself but can’t helps it , he is hot shit and he knows it , how does his team feel ab that ?? w/ his defensive ass !

GOOD-LUCK CHARM : prolly a girl ( bonus points if a cheerleader ??? im not picky tho i promise if ur muse don’t shake poms idc ) it happened out the blue , they screamed his name while the team was walking out for a game , and she called that he’d get 3 td’s and thats exactly what he did now they joke ab it and shit ( maybe a goodluck kiss b4 games bc its warner lolol ) idk i came up wit it on the spot but i love it.

// » MISC :

i’m a dumbass & this got way longer than i expected but if u made it all the way thru ily .

#clovers.intro #♔ — ∞ ⁞ @ 𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐃 ↱ OOC.#im so srry this a novel #but woot woot im so excited !!!!

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argylemnwrites · 5 years ago

Text

Fire Inside

Character: ??? 😮 ???

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu) referenced

Book: The Royal Romance (The Royal Heir, various chapters)

Word Count: ~2100

Rating: PG-13 (adult language)

Summary: Doing what needs to be done isn’t for the faint of heart. Sometimes channeling that fire inside will bring out enemies, but only the timid worry about that.

Author’s Note: So, this is something pretty different from what I usually write, but the idea popped into my head and wouldn’t leave me alone. I don’t know if anyone else will like this, but I had a lot of fun exploring motivations of this character. I just wanted to dislike this character for interesting reasons, not hate them for dumb reasons that lack all nuance. So, yeah, not trying to defend this character, just trying to make them a dislikable human instead of a silly, annoying trope.

Inspired by Day 4 of the Choices November Challenge - Rage. Tagging all my TRR peeps, so apologies if this isn’t your thing. Like I said, I know this isn’t my usual style.

How did that old saying go? You catch more flies with honey than vinegar? Something like that. She’d heard it plenty of times throughout her life. She just never really understood it.

It’s not that she didn’t get the intent; she wasn’t stupid. But she just didn’t quite get why anyone would want to catch flies in the first place. Swat those annoying buggers away. Let them live their life while she lived hers. Why would you want to attract nuisances when you could scare them off instead? And no point drawing them in to kill them. There would always be plenty more pests coming after them.

But growing up, everyone seemed to tell her she should be more nurturing, more caring. Buying her dolls for her birthday and for Christmas. Trying to get her to care for the chicks after the coyote got into the pen and ate the hen. Scolding her when she hadn’t held Bee’s hand and wiped away her tears with gentle thumbs and soothing words when she’d fallen from the tree and broken her arm, but instead had carried her back to the house, arm wrapped in her own shirt as a temporary sling. But her practical solution hadn’t been enough. She was supposed to tend to her sister’s emotional pain, not just the physical.

They all wanted her to be sugar, spice, and everything nice. Well, if that’s what little girls were supposed to be made of, it never made sense to Leona that everyone seemed to ignore the middle ingredient. You wouldn’t call two pieces of bread on either side of some sliced ham a bread sandwich. That’s a goddamn ham sandwich. So why did everyone think that girls should be sweet little angels, not spitfires full of heat and intensity?

Leona was never cut out to play the damsel, dependent on someone else. She would fight for herself, fight for what she thought was her due. And she was never going to apologize for being that way. Her fire served her well. It’s how she got out of taking home ec in high school, instead getting herself a spot in shop class. She could live with rips in her clothes that she couldn’t mend well and food that filled her belly without winning a prize at the state fair for its flavors. But if the equipment on the ranch broke down, well being able to fix that herself would save her whole family time and money. And that just seemed a hell of a lot more useful than learning how to be a perfect little homemaker.

Of course, in shop class, none of the boys or Mr. Linvel had viewed her as anything other than a novelty. She wasn’t sure which was worse, the boys who laughed at her anytime she made a mistake, or the ones who assumed she couldn’t do it herself, always coming over to “help” her. What they didn’t understand is that she never needed their help. They weren’t better than her just because their fathers had taught them those skills already. She would do it herself, no matter how many tries it took.

Because the world was a harsh place. It never made sense to Leona that she was expected to stay soft. She didn’t understand how anyone could. But all the girls around her seemed to manage it just fine. Cathy and Linda and Susie braided each other’s hair and shared lipstick. They giggled and gossiped and swooned over Chip and Bobby and Kenny. They hugged each other and passed around hankies when those same idiot boys all fell head over heels for the new girl, Patty, with her bleached hair and bell-bottom jeans. They all cried over their Dolly Parton records, moaning about how “Jolene” was their song. Leona didn’t get it. Why waste any time on some boy who was inevitably gonna let you down?

But one by one, she watched them go off, get married, start their families. Cathy caught the eye of some traveling salesman, Linda finally got Bobby to put a ring on it, and Susie moved to Houston to go to secretarial school, but quit and got married 4 months after her first posting. And one by one, she watched them get broken, by bills and mortgages, by baby after baby, by unfaithful and cruel husbands. And as they cried on the front porch, wondering how they got to that point, a not-so-small portion of Leona kept thinking, “I told you so.” She didn’t feel bad for thinking it either. Because she knew what they thought of her. Bitter. Cold-hearted. Bitch.

But she took it all, because she knew that life wasn’t a fairy tale. It’s a series of hardships you just had to face head on. She told her sister that everyday, not wanting her to make the same mistakes that so many of the other girls made. And for a long time, it worked. It was just the two of them and Dad, taking care of things on the ranch. But eventually Bee wanted more. She wasn’t content, always dreaming of something different. She saved her money. Traveled. When she came back, she was full of stories. But she was different every time. Still could pull her share around the ranch, but she was teasing her hair. Had new blazers with shoulder pads in addition to her practical work clothes. Talked about some fancy-ass coffee drink she had at some restaurant. And then she saved enough to go overseas, coming back a few months later, holding hands with some fancy European asshole. Told Leona she was moving to some country called Cordonia to marry that man. Left the ranch without a backward glance, leaving Leona and Dad to manage it all. She made promises of coming back in a couple of years after Jackson’s service requirements were complete, but first a son came along, and then a daughter. And each year that went by, Leona knew that Bianca was never coming back. Sure enough, phone calls promising a move back next year soon became phone calls promising a vacation. The life they had known together was now a novelty, an escape, not a reality. She only did make it back to the ranch once with the kids.

Those two were lost causes, as far as Leona was concerned. Brought up in a world of gold and diamonds, parties and designer clothes. Hell, the boy was best friends with one of the princes. And when she was the one who had to bury Dad in the orchard all by herself, six feet down, right next to Momma, she knew she was the only one left in the family with any common sense or perspective. She just hoped that Bianca remembered a little bit of the toughness she’d tried to teach her when those ass-kissing, stuck-up nobles she’d surrounded herself with inevitably screwed her over.

Leona was surprised that Bianca lasted over there as long as she did, nearly two decades before it all came crashing down with Jackson’s death. But she did crash, hard. Her life fell apart. And who did she call up, but the sister she’d abandoned, left to carry on the family business all alone. And once again, she wanted Leona to be softer. To offer sympathy and comfort. Well, she offered a roof over her head and food in her belly when her so-called “friends” somehow couldn’t be bothered to spare a dollar. That would have to be comfort enough.

She’d heard Bianca crying many nights. At first, she knew it was over her husband, a man who gave his life for some over-important royals, leaving behind his own goddamn family. And after years of watching her sister struggle to finally heal from that, the crying started again when Drake called, frantic, saying Savannah was gone, asking if by any chance she’d come to Texas. She recovered faster that time, though. Leona hoped that she was finally learning, that she was tougher. Stronger.

But that all came crashing down one fall morning, when Bianca bounded into the barn, telling Leona that not only was Savannah back in their lives, but that she had a baby. Baby Bee was a grandma. Not only that, but she was going back to the hellhole of Cordonia to see this baby and to watch Drake marry some fancy duchess of some sort. She was optimistic and energetic. It was as if she’d learned nothing from her first time there.

They’d fought, Leona asking her sister how many times she was gonna get her hopes up about that place. Bianca saying that things would be better this time. Yeah, right. Leona had seen enough to know how this would end. Bianca brought her kids up in the world of posh nobles and fancy rich people. It was only a matter of time until they decided they were too good for her again.

But Bee ignored her warnings, not only flying out there for some pompous hoighty-toighty wedding, but offering to host Savannah’s wedding to some frickin’ Duke of snobbery, the same man who knocked her up and then neglected her and the baby not two years earlier. Amazing what you could get away with when you had money.

To make matters worse, Bee invited some motley crew of royals and nobles to come stay on the ranch for this wedding. They weren’t outwardly disdainful, so maybe they did learn some manners from their fancy pants educations, but still. Leona had a ranch to keep afloat. The last thing she needed was to babysit a group of rich kids playacting at being cowboys.

She felt a little guilty selling info on Drake and his wife to the press. He was the most helpful of the group, and he was family, after all. He seemed to remember a few things from his visit as a child, seemed to have kept a handful of practical skills. But his wife was overeager, annoying, and seemed to think that she had something in common with Bianca and Leona just because she used to wait tables. That growing up in a fancy city like New York was somehow equal to hard, physical labor because she hadn’t been born with a silver spoon in her mouth. If he had chosen to marry someone like her, then he probably wasn’t much different than the rest of them. The fact that they were orchestrating some bizarre political move to get their kid onto the throne just sealed the deal for Leona. So she did what she had to do. Granted, they all ended up being much kinder than she’d guessed them to be. But their kindness wasn’t going to keep the ranch going long term, keep the hands hired and the electricity on. So, Leona kept on selling any info she had. Morality was all fine and dandy when you were privileged, but it had no place in the real world.

It wasn’t until Riley was screaming at her, yelling about how she would never forgive Leona, hand protectively placed across her very pregnant belly, that she saw something more than kind but spoiled little princess. She saw pure anger, fire-forged and intense. She saw rage and hunger. She saw someone that maybe had been hardened by life, but kept that intensity hidden away, covering her true strength with silliness and laughter.

Leona couldn’t be sure, of course. She barely knew the woman, and she had no illusion that she and this woman would be bonding as in-laws going forward, so she probably wouldn’t get the chance to find out. She had never been naive, after all. She knew that bridge was burned. But she wasn’t one for regrets. She’d made her choices, and while she’d hoped maybe her nephew would understand her reasons, calm his wife down, she wasn’t surprised when that didn’t happen. So she went back to Texas, to her parents’ ranch. To her ranch, really. What was done was done.

She hadn’t anticipated her sister’s anger. Bee had never been the overly-protective, Momma-bear type, after all. But she’d yelled, alright. Told her off about betraying the family. Selling out her own nephew. Making it so that Drake and Riley were never going to be willing to bring the grandbaby to visit. Bianca expected grovelling, contrition, regret. But she wasn’t going to get that. Leona had the fire raging inside of her to keep moving forward; she would never apologize for that. And if anyone took issue with that, well that was just their own damn problem. No one else was going to solve it for them. Certainly not Leona. Anyone who expected such a weakness could just go fuck themselves.

Tags: @choicesnovemberchallenge @dcbbw @mfackenthal @yaushie @jovialyouthmusic @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @riley–walker @thequeenofcronuts @notoriouscs @butindeed @octobereighth @ao719

#choices november challenge #the royal heir #the royal romance #trr #trh #trh fanfic #trr fanfic #leona walker #bianca walker #choices #choices fanfiction #choices stories you play #playchoices

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