#at least he was mature about it all cause half my “maturity” was shoving my feelings down and processing them later T-T

[fennthetalkingdog]

Being someone who was aroace until they figured out they were trans is so weird because I'll start complaining about amatonormativity and how I as an aroace person am inconvenienced and then I have to stop my train of thought and remind myself I'm bi, not aroace anymore xD

[changingplumbob]

Random Ramblings

If this is somehow even more long winded than I normally am (yeah it's long), it's because I'm going through an IBS flare up that is kicking my butt.

BUT I wanted to get my thoughts out about some of my content warnings, because I'm very tired and have been shoving the same one in front of my Reece/Samir parts even if they might not reflect that particular part because I'm too tired to judge how spicy warrants a spice warning.

Where to start... If you haven't figured it out, all my grown sims are currently woohoo positive, as in they do not think that how much woohoo a sim does or does not have dictates how "good" a person is. Why? Because whoever made sex synonymous with shame is stupid and has ruined many a life (it was probably a dude, no offense dudes out there).

While I don't currently have any sims that are asexual, not all my sims feel the same about woohoo.

For example Charlie and Kaori would choose a good chat over woohoo most times. Not because they don't love each other, or are averse to woohoo, but because that's who they are together. Most days they tire themselves out as athletes and prefer to relax together

Cassandra and Rahul on the other hand love to have woohoo, particularly unprotected, three kids and still not done

Keira, who rolled the soulmate aspiration, chose to wait before she had woohoo. Her high school girlfriend (Morgan Fryes) cheated on her because she wouldn't woohoo. Even after meeting Marta (her now fiance) she wanted to wait until she felt comfortable being vulnerable around her.

Then of course we have my superstar Joey who is aromantic but allosexual (a mod did that, I didn't choose it). As soon as he became a YA he got a fwb. His philosophy is basically, oh she identifies as she? Can I hit it? I love you Joey that's why I call you a slut

Normally I just chuck up a sim spice warning if there are some screenshots taken during woohoo. Me being me, I don't feel like including pixel private parts in my published posts. Kudos to all you who do, it's just not my style. It's also rare that I'll write about anything that happens during a woohoo session, mostly I'll just write some foreplay then say it happened. That said, I do like to chuck in innuendo here and there if it feels like something my sims would say (any other writers feel like they know exactly what their sims would say at times?). I'm also not in a hurry to be classified as a mature blog, purely because that doesn't fit like 95% of my gameplay. Yes, I use wicked whims for my gameplay, but that doesn't mean I'm going to show you Luna being a lowkey pillow princess... shut up brain you can't just say that

Finally, on to my babies Reece and Samir. If there are spectrum's they are at the extreme end (also in my country the age of consent is 16 so any hijinks they get up before Reece turns 18 isn't percieved as illegal here). They both enjoy woohoo, like a lot a lot. Probably didn't help that there rotation had love day in it but they both also have high woohoo drives. They were flirty most of the time, so what would they do in that state? Sweet talk each other of course.

Now, if you weren't aware and you probably weren't cause it's been ages since their last rotation Reece and Samir also have a dynamic my other sims don't. Although on reflection Bob and Eliza have it as well, just to a lesser extent. Reece, chatterbox ego that he is, is a submissive. Samir, who barely says more than a sentence to anyone but Reece, is a dominant. When together they'll often lean into these roles, using both innuendo and statements of things their partner does that they're in to. Some people would probably label things that even use those words as mature, but it's a dynamic that exists people.

Now their chapter isn't me suddenly switching to speaking in 100% innuendo, but it has more than my average writing, at least for the first half you'll understand later if you read hence the sim spice warning. Looking back on it the chapter does not contain any screenshots mid woohoo, but the dialogue makes me want to put a disclosure above the cut, since I'm still not sure of all the rules around here, and my IBS is making it hard to focus right now.

Woohoo talk done? It's done! That's what she said... shut up brain, we're not twelve!

The other warning is about sim death. No one dies in the chapter but it deals with figuring out what happened to Samir's birth parents. Previously it's been established they were killed when he was 5 but the chapter and my Samir flashback pov short bit that I am low key proud of does involve mention of blood, death, dying etc. Me being me, I do not include any screenshots of dead, dying or seriously bleeding sims, it's not my aesthetic (don't act as though you don't love playing Until Dawn, the Quarry and The Dark Pictures Anthology which is full of gore... okay yes but gore does make me queasy for the most part, could never ever watch a saw film) and things aren't described in explicit detail. But death is death and grief is complex. It can hit you at unexpected times in unexpected ways.

So why am I bothering to put content warnings at all? Still sounds pretty tame. Yeah, probably, but as mentioned, I still don't know all the rules around here. Plus I would choose for someone to not read my story and avoid seeing something that upset them, than have someone grieving a loss see my dead sims bodies on their dash because I tagged it Sims4 every time. So if you see a content warning on my post, it most often just means viewer discretion advised. Not that you'll click and get flashed by my sims.

[cloudninetonine]

Remember that au I proposed where the boys never forgot Player but don’t tell them that they all know them due to the reaction they have? What if…

—

Things were… uncomfortable, the smithy found. Being forced into another journey wasn’t anything new, it was kind of expected at this point. However, the circumstances lining up to have nine heroes haphazardly shoved together in environments mostly unfamiliar without any real knowledge of each other made the whole situation tense.

The vet, traveler, and cook were by far the most suspicious of their new partnership. From the little Link had gathered from their journeys, they had pretty much no companionship, and thus were quicker to mistrust.

That didn’t mean no one else was giving side glances though. The Hero of Twilight often shifted uncomfortably when someone was too close, the Chosen Hero refused to let Link near the “Master Sword” to polish it (not that he particularly trusted the blade), and even the mature Hero of Time sometimes gave the scrutinizing side-eye glare.

The smith was guilty of this as well, though he liked to think he handled the strangers better than most, not as good as the captain, but alright enough.

Speaking of the captain, it had seemed that he had finally snapped.

“All I’m saying is that things are awkward, too awkward. The group dynamic needs a change and fast. Let’s all share something good from our journeys! Surely we all have something nice from our time heroing?” The Hero of Warriors prompted, half finished bowl in his lap.

“Right right.” The Hero of Legend spat sarcastically, arms crossed with a sneer plastered on his face. “You’re probably just trying to butter us up, or get information on us that you can use to your advantage. Well I’m not falling for it, pretty boy.”

Four watched as the captain’s eye twitched, the man took a deep breath in before continuing. “First of all, drop the attitude. Second, I’m not trying to scrape up dirt in you or stab you in the back, we are doing poorly in battle because of our lack of communication and it’s caused us to use more resources than necessary. Besides, what’s the harm in a bit of story telling?”

“I agree with the captain,” said the old man, the official-unofficial leader of their group. “We’ve been dancing around each other like blind cuccos, it’s about time we open up at least a small bit.”

Silence, no one wanted to speak up.

We should do go first, Vio murmured.

What? Why? Blue internally raised an eyebrow.

No one else is willing to speak up, and I’m sure we’ve got some sort of happy or even funny story to share, Vio explained.

He’s got a point there, we’ve got a metric ton of tales about our bad reactions to green peppers, Green laughed.

That’s too easy though! It’s gotta be something special for the first campfire story! Red argued.

…What about our guide? Vio proposed with a twinge of hesitation.

That may be a bit too personal-

IT’S PERFECT! Red exclaimed, interrupting Blue.

Wait, Red we haven’t agreed- but Green was too late, Red was already running their mouth.

“I had a guide.” Eyes turned toward the shortest hero, who sat straight despite the need to cower.

Good going Red, now we have to keep it up, Blue groaned.

“I’m not sure what they were, maybe a being sent by Hylia? Though they denied having affiliation with her, and didn’t speak with the formality you’d expect from an angel. No, they were silly, and fun, and stupid, and kinder than the word kind.” The smithy continued with caution.

“They took the form of a glowing light in my chest, no one else could see, feel or hear them but me, and only magical creatures had any sort of sense they were there.” The smithy felt himself getting enraptured in the story, not really ever getting much of a chance to do a whole lot of story telling made this one of the few that he hadn’t told to his father, Zelda, or Smith. It was exciting.

His happiness made it harder to notice the sparkle in the others eyes…

“They were there throughout all of my journeys, every last one of them. They gave me such a feeling of support and comfort… something I couldn’t ever think to let go.” It was getting too personal now, he knew that, but he was too far in.

“But after my most recent journey, they… left. I had noticed they weren’t talking much after the initial victory, their light felt weaker too, and I was starting to get worried.” None of the colors noticed their now wobbling vision, nor the wet fell sliding down his cheeks.

“After they didn’t say a word at the celebration over my victory, I confronted them, asked what was wrong. They said they had to leave.” He wiped at his eyes, forgetting it was strangers he was speaking too. “I begged them to stay, did everything in my power to keep them close, but nothing I did helped, and they faded away that awful night.”

Link get his grip on his spoon tightly, veins popping out from his skin at the force as his hand shook. “I regret trying to get (Name) to stay, I don’t think they had a real choice in the matter, I’m sure my tears only did them more harm than good a the end- GUHK-“ Hands grabbed his shoulders he yanked him closer. Link found himself looking up at the Hero of Winds, who was on his knees in front of the short hero with a wild, desperate, and sad look in his eyes.

“Was their name (First Name) (Last Name)?” Link froze, staring at the young hero with shock.

“Y-yes, how did you know…?” The smithy startled when the sailor began to cry, resting his head on Link’s shoulder as he feel against him.

“Wait- did you two both have a guide called (Name) too?” Link looked over at the traveler, who was normally a silent shadow slinking behind them, he now held a shimmer of pure hope in his gaze.

“You guys as well?!” The cook shouted, looking at the three heroes with tears stroking his cherry cheeks.

“Did… did we all have the same guide?” The skyloftian questioned, shrinking as all eyes leveled on him.

“I- I never thought of the possibility that (Name) would be there for you guys as well.” Twilight said, licking his lips nervously.

“But was- were they the same one? Or were they like us, having the same spirit but not being the same person?” The hoarder said, voice uncharacteristically soft.

The smithy paused while gently pushing a sniffling sailor to sit on anything that wasn’t Link’s lap. He pondered briefly, we’re they the same light?

Wait… I remember! Vio exclaimed, already opening their mouth.

“They were the same! When (Name was fading they told us- m-me that they ‘have more silly heroes to watch over now’. They must have been talking about you guys! Or, at least, whoever comes after me.” Link rambled.

Wow Vio, good slip up there, it’s not like we’re trying to keep ourselves a secret or anything, Blue snidely commented. Vio winced, the noise carrying over to the real world.

“So, each of us were truly guided by them?” The old man finally spoke up, voice quiet.

The Hero of Warriors laughed, flicking away a tear in his eye. “Do any of you perhaps remember how they’d worry about you? Like, I could get the tiniest scrape and they’d be screaming the most vile things at whomever did it, sometimes it was enough to make me blush.”

The veteran chuckled, “I remember telling them off for that, as half the time they’d get me into trouble on purpose. I can’t tell you how many times I was tricked and attacked by cuccos because of them.”

The group laughed at that, reminiscing their guide’s good ol’ mischief.

“Oh! Do you remember those terrible puns? I swear, every time we were out at sea they would make a fish joke. Every. Single. TIME.” The sailor groaned, falling flat onto the grass, no longer crying.

“They did the same to me, I would complain to Navi about the awful jokes, which got her to start making them as well.” The Hero of Time said dramatically, causing a torrent of more stories that evolved and got longer as time went on.

The Hero of the Four Sword hadn’t meant to start this full group chat, but it felt… really nice. With the pit his guide had left within his heart, he found something that could just about fill it, even if it wasn’t the same.

—

“I’m a little worried about them.” The traveler chewed on his cheek, looking at the champion’s door.

Link sighed. “They’re fine, you and Gilda said it yourselves, the shadow didn’t harm them.”

“Yeah- but- I don’t know, I just have this… this feeling.” The Hero of Hyrule said.

“What type of feeling?” The Hero of Warriors said with a smirk.

“You know what I meant. I just think they’re… familiar, they’re familiar to me.”

The skyloftian hummed, “You aren’t alone in that, I felt a little weird when we found them.”

“You think they’re evil?” Vet said, glaring up at the window you were probably behind.

“I sincerely doubt their bad, they aren’t a monster.” The Hero of Twilight tiredly grumbled, helping himself to a second serving of breakfast.

“Yeah, but they’ve got weird circle ears! Isn’t that kinda odd.” The Hero of Winds said with an upturned lip.

“The people of Ordonia have round ears, they aren’t special.” Ranch-hand argued, sitting down on the grass with a thump.

“Yeah, but I’ve met like everyone in Hyrule, and no one here has ears like that.” The cook pointed out, shushing Epona as she nickered for another apple.

The smithy huffed, “Well maybe-“

The door flew open, the person they had saved there with a panicked expression. They’re eyes bugged at the sight of their large group, landing on Sky, who was the closest, before slamming the door.

“-Ohp, oh there they go.” Sky said with a startled blink.

“Goddesses almighty.” The veteran groaned, muttering as he rose to his feet and walked into the house. There was a shout of surprise from him and-

“STAY BACK!”

…What?

The Hero of the Four Sword was moving before he could think. He knew that voice, he knew it too well.

He shoved himself between the other’s legs, who were also scrambling to get into the champion’s abode. He stopped, staring at the person, at you with awe.

He had never seen you before, how could he? You were sort of stuck in his chest as a disembodied light during every journey he had. You were almost exactly how he expected, both from how you would describe your appearance and from how you sounded. A kind yet mischievous face, soft hands without a cut in sight, and bright, emotional eyes.

Eyes that were currently nervously glaring at the group’s stares of awe.

“Who are you- no, where am I?!” You demanded, zero recognition within your gaze.

…Huh?

—

Oh nooooooo, they forgot theeeeeeeemmmmm, how saaaaaddddddndndnfjfjnfnd.

This is that memory au I had a long while back! I told it from Four’s perspective because I like him, though I’m not sure if I did his colors as it is intended??? Nor do we know how Player leaving works

Also, completely unrelated, but remember like- all the way back when I first started drawing art here? I drew the colors hugging Player, how do you feel about a redraw? I kinda want to do it but am unsure

OKAY BUT I LOVE THIS SO FUCKING MUCH I REALLY HOPE YOU MAOE MORE BB

This was literally an amazing read I've fallen in love

[mint-yooxgi]

{6} - Hotel California - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Based off of This ask and Hotel California by Eagles

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Slight Humor

Pairing: Ateez X Reader 

Words: 7,790

Warnings: Violence, some slut shaming (again, not done by any of the guys). This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Happy Halloween!!!! Like I said, this part is a little bit shorter than the rest, but I feel like it set up what I have planned for the next chapter nicely. I really hope you all enjoy this part as I had a lot of fun writing it, and I think a lot of you will like what happens in it hehehe anyways, as always, feedback is greatly appreciated. Enjoy~

Main Story - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Mini Masterlist

“Do we really have to go?” Wooyoung whines, a pout tugging at his lips.

“Believe me, I want to go about as much as you do right now,” Yunho exhales a long breath through his nose.

“Shouldn’t one of us stay back at least?” San voices, brow quirked ever so slightly as he looks around at his brothers. Of course, he’s hoping that he’ll be able to be the one to keep you company once more as his brothers deal with whatever they have to at this council meeting.

“For the last time: it’s unavoidable.” Hongjoong sighs. “We should just focus on why the council has been summoned for now.”

“Yeah, and how quickly we can get back here.” Jongho mumbles, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Well, from past events we know it’ll take at least an hour and a half,” Seonghwa grimaces, adjusting the collar of his jacket.

“The sooner we can get this over with, the sooner we can get back here.” Mingi says, placing his hat onto his head. He doesn’t like this anymore than his brothers do, and if they could stay home with you, they would.

“Agreed.” Yeosang huffs, smoothing out the front of his coat.

Currently, all eight of them stand in the middle of the foyer, putting the last final touches on their outfits for the evening. Since the council hasn’t been summoned in quite some time, they have to wear their ‘official’ all black looks, complete with their hats. Each of their clothes may vary in style, but collectively, they all complement one another, truly looking like the leaders of the realm that they are always meant to be.

A moment of silence passes by.

“I should probably go tell her that we’re leaving.” Jongho says, already taking a step towards your room where you’ve been cooped up all day leading up to this evening.

A hand on his shoulder prevents him from moving more than one step forwards.

“I’ll go tell her,” Mingi practically shoves Jongho behind him as he goes to step passed him.

“Like hell you are,” Yeosang glares at the taller male as he moves to step in front of him to block his path.

“If anyone is telling her we’re leaving, it’ll be me.” Seonghwa nearly rolls his eyes as he moves to shove the younger two out of his way to begin walking towards the hallway that will lead to your room.

Only, Hongjoong’s hand flying out in front of him suddenly halts him in his tracks.

“Will you all calm down.” His eyes narrow. “Listen.”

Sure enough, when they focus back on their surroundings they can hear the familiar sound of your footsteps drawing near. You seem to be walking at a leisurely pace, only causing them each to hold their breaths as you approach them.

“Oh my-” as soon as you round the corner to see them all standing there, you freeze in your tracks. Your breath immediately catches, words dying in your throat as you blink a few times at them almost in shock. Then, you snort out a mild laugh as you grip the book you have held in your arms more firmly. “You guys are really doing wonders to fight against those cult allegations.”

Wooyoung snorts out a laugh with you, grins tugging onto Mingi’s, San’s, and Yunho’s faces while the others straighten slightly in their spots. Each begins to feel that telltale sense of pride within their chests at the way you’re continuously looking at them.

You can’t help it, the way your eyes trail over each one of them individually. You’ve never seen them dressed up like this before, not even for that one dinner you had with all of them all those weeks ago. In fact, their outfits remind you of a certain fictional character whom you haven’t thought about in quite some time. One who is very dear to you. Still, you cannot deny that they all look good.

At the feeling of your gaze roaming over the expanse of their bodies, each male has to suppress the pleased growl that wants to escape their throats. Their minds are battling with one another currently, arguing amongst themselves about who held your gaze the longest, and who you looked the most enraptured by while taking them all in.

San is convinced it’s him, while Seonghwa strongly disagrees. Wooyoung obviously knows it’s him, yet Jongho would beg to differ. Yunho had straightened considerably, smoothing out the front of his jacket as your eyes trailed over him the longest (at least in his mind), while Mingi would swear it was him who held your gaze over the others. Yeosang, on the outside, still looks calm and collected, while internally he’s battling it out with Hongjoong over who caused your lips to twitch upwards even if just the slightest.

You clear your throat, breaking them out of whatever trance they seem to be in.

“So,” you shift slightly on your feet, holding your book more firmly as you pass it between your hands, “you guys are leaving soon?”

At least one thing they can all agree on: they hate how you sound so hopeful. Why do you have to look so excited to be left alone, and to be away from them for any period of time, quirked brow and all? Can’t you at least be a little upset?

Hongjoong nods, naturally pushing his jacket back as he shoves his hands into his pockets. At the way he feels you trail your eyes over his figure as he does so, he has to suppress his own from shifting black in content. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay by yourself for that long?”

One final hand extended to you to get them to stay. Really, you need only say the word and they would blow off the entire council for you. Besides, you are all that truly matters to them at the moment.

You meet his gaze, the corner of your lips tugging upwards, “more than okay.”

Again, why do you have to sound so happy about it? Wooyoung, San, and Mingi all pout, and even Jongho’s lips tug downwards in a frown. Yeosang and Seonghwa cross their arms, while Yunho and Hongjoong just sigh.

“What are you going to do?” Wooyoung voices the thought on all of their minds, genuine curiosity held in his tone.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, demon boy?” You quirk a brow, a devious smirk tugging at your lips.

At this, they all turn to look at Wooyoung. This is the first time you’ve referred to one of them, almost affectionately, by any type of specific nickname around the others, and to say the others are jealous would be a severe understatement. Wooyoung, on the other hand, is absolutely revelling in the fact that you called him demon boy once more, his lips quirking upwards smugly in the corners. It’s like your own little secret.

“I think we’d all like to know,” Jongho mumbles, his pout becoming more prominent on his features.

Of course you’d just have to be thinking about that damn void right now. It’s not like they desperately want to know what you’re actually thinking about, or what you actually think about them, especially in these outfits. You seemed impressed, but with you, they can never be so sure. Besides, it would mean more to them hearing it from your own mouth, or rather, thoughts in this case.

Luckily, or rather, unluckily for them, your next words seem to answer their original question.

“Well, if you must know,” you huff, rolling your eyes somewhat. “I was going to read, but now I think I have a hot date with an old friend of mine.”

“A date?” Seonghwa can barely suppress the growl on his lips, echoed lowly by both San and Mingi. Even Wooyoung’s mood immediately plummets, the high from the nickname you called him mere seconds before crashing into the ground.

“Yeah,” you grin, somewhat amusedly. 

“Who?” Before you can continue, San’s voice, low and ominous, rings out through the foyer, his eyes swirling with that all too familiar blackness. “How?”

“You really think I can go anywhere, let alone meet up with someone else right now?” Your eyes widen in mild amusement as a huff escapes your lips. “No, it’s just that your outfits reminded me of a certain favourite fictional reaper of mine.” You shrug. “Just made me realize I haven’t watched Goblin in a while.”

“Reaper?” This time, Hongjoong doesn’t suppress when his eyes flash black.

“Relax,” you roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest as your book is held firm in your one hand, tucked against your torso. “Didn’t pin you guys for getting jealous over a fictional character.” You hum, mildly amused, “then again…"

“We’re not jealous.” Yeosang grumbles, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“Denial.” You snort out a laugh. Then, more to yourself, you mutter, “hate to imagine what you’d be like if you ever found out about my favourite character from Jujutsu Kaisen.”

Immediately, Mingi’s nose is scrunching in disgust. “Please tell me you don’t like that stupid, blindfold wearing asshole.”

“Fuck, no,” you snort, mildly amused that he knows exactly what you’re talking about for the moment. “He’s way too arrogant for me.” Then, you tilt your head side to side as if contemplating something, humming all the while, “then again, he’s probably worse.”

“Who?” San’s voice is low, a slight growl to his inquiry.

You sigh, almost dreamily, a wistful smile on your face, “Sukuna.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Wooyoung swears, clearly exasperated.

“Really, I’m surprised you even had to ask considering one of the three plushies I brought back with me was him printed on a small pillow.” You shrug, stating the obvious as your arms drop back to your sides.

“It must have slipped our minds.” Seonghwa hisses out through clenched teeth.

“Well, clearly we’re getting rid of that when we get back.” Yunho states, shooting you a pointed look.

“Excuse you,” your eyebrows raise considerably in disbelief, “Sukuna is a guest.”

“Not in this household.” San retorts, and you notice how a majority of them cross their arms in front of their chests.

“Not to you,” you match his sass, meeting his gaze with a pointed look of your own. “Just because you don’t like him, doesn’t mean I don’t like him.”

“That’s the issue,” Jongho grumbles. 

“The fact that I enjoy a fictional character?” Your eyebrow quirks once more in disbelief. “He’s not even real. He’s literally lines on a page.” You voice, incredulously, tone slightly more high pitched than usual. “Would you rather me going back to thinking about the idols I enjoy?”

“No!” Immediately, Mingi, San, and Wooyoung all respond, taking a small step towards you as the others scowl right along with them.

Then again, they’d never know if that is exactly what you do considering your void is still up. A fact which only makes growls build in their chests once more. There’s always an option to attack your mental void all at once, but they would rather not put you through that type of mental strain. They care about you too much. Plus, they promised they would never hurt you.

“Too late,” a devious smirk stretches across your features as you begin to chuckle, your free hand coming up to cover your mouth in the next second.

However, what you fail to notice is the way Yunho’s jaw twitches. Even more so than the other seven around him who all seem to be clenching theirs in response.

“You’re really testing our patience, Love,” Hongjoong is tense, his fists clenched at his sides as he meets your gaze.

“Oh, am I?” You smile innocently, dropping your one hand back to your side. Then, just as innocently, you say, “aren’t you going to be late?”

That seems to pull them back to reality and the task at hand, scowls on all of their faces.

“This isn’t over.” Seonghwa states, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Isn’t it?” You grin, a teasing quirk to your brow as you chuckle. “It’s so easy to rile you guys up.”

“Then why do you test us so?” Mingi asks, whole body tense as he locks gazes with you.

“Why?” You hum, briefly glancing at all of them once more. “I wouldn’t tease you if I didn’t feel comfortable around you.”

Immediately, they all go silent, your words settling over them as pure and utter surprise courses through their veins. Seonghwa, Hongjoong and Yunho all blink in shock, lips parting ever so slightly. San, Wooyoung, and Jongho all cannot suppress the pleased growls that escape them. Even Yeosang and Mingi have the gall to look somewhat smug for the moment before a bright smile is stretching across Mingi’s lips.

“Anyways…” you clear your throat, your admission finally sinking in for your own self as well. Then, seemingly against your better judgment, you continue, “good luck with the council, or whatever.” You turn around so they cannot see the way you avert your gaze so bashfully as the next words fall from your mouth, nothing but a mere whisper on your lips. “You, uh, all look really handsome.”

The sound of your first footstep is synonymous with the resounding growls of content that echo around the room as you begin to walk back towards the hallway that you’ve just come from. You can feel each of their gazes on your form, and you’re willing to bet that their eyes have flashed black as well. Only, there seems to be one gaze that is piercing your figure much more intensely than the rest.

“Captain.” Jongho attempts to grab Hongjoong’s attention, his brow furrowing as he gets no response from the elder. “Captain?”

Your brow quirks slightly as you turn to shoot them one last look from over your shoulder just as you reach the open archway of the hall. Lips quirking at the corners, you lock gazes with Hongjoong who seems to be the only one still staring at you so intently for the moment. You raise your free hand, wiggling your fingers in a final wave before disappearing around the corner.

“Captain?” It’s only when Seonghwa places a hand onto Hongjoong’s shoulder does the younger of the two finally snap out of his daze.

“Right.” He exhales a long breath through his nose. “Let’s go.”

Without another word, all eight of them are transporting themselves deep within the reaches of their domain near where the council will be taking place. None can deny the way their chests swirl with pride as your last admission lingers in the air between them, each standing a little taller as they land in their own throne room.

“That went better than expected.” Yunho is the first to break the silence between all of them. “Sort of.”

“I still would prefer her not teasing us like that.” San grumbles, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Believe me, I think we’d all prefer her not doing that.” Yeosang sits on the steps leading up to their thrones, leaning forwards to rest his elbows on his knees. The rest of the council will just have to wait for now. After all, it will only start once they arrive.

“But hey,” Jongho chimes in, a lightness to his voice, “at least we know she’s starting to trust us. Especially with everything she’s implied and said tonight.”

“But Sukuna of all characters?” Mingi grumbles, taking a seat beside Yeosang on the steps as he rubs over his face with his hands.

“Isn’t he just essentially us, but fictional?” Hongjoong turns to look at Mingi for confirmation.

“He’s less powerful, though,” Wooyoung adds as Mingi nods, “and less attractive.”

“He’s still known as the ‘King of Curses’,” San mumbles.

“Yeah, and we’re the fucking Kings of the Realm,” Seonghwa spits, arms crossed in front of his chest as his eyes flash. “If she can like him, then she can like us.”

“We are the real thing, after all,” Yunho hums. “Minus the tattoos and extra limbs.”

Yeosang’s eyes narrow at the male standing before him, “how do you know what he looks like? You haven’t even seen a single episode of the anime, or read one page of the manga.”

Yunho quirks a brow, his lips twitching upwards expectantly at his brothers.

Seonghwa inhales sharply as realization crosses his features, “you’ve been able to get passed her void.”

Yunho smirks, noticing how he seems to have their full attention on him now.

“How?” Wooyoung takes a step forwards, eagerness on his features along with Jongho, San, Mingi, and Seonghwa. “When?”

“I can’t do it all of the time, but since the crowning when she opened her mind up to me again briefly, I was able to latch on to that opening and worm my way in.” Yunho explains, noticing how some of them tense at the recollection of that moment in verbiage only.

“You always were the best out of all of us when it came to that sort of stuff, anyways,” Hongjoong nods, impressed, despite that familiar jealous pit burning beneath the surface of his skin right now.

“We all have our own skills that we play to our advantage,” Yunho’s eyes flash as he meets Hongjoong’s gaze. “I simply acted when the opportunity presented itself.”

“What else was she thinking?” Jongho’s gaze is a little too eager as he looks at Yunho.

“I don’t think you want to know.” Yunho shakes his head.

“I think we do.” Seonghwa quirks a brow, noticing how both Yeosang and Wooyoung seem to be on the exact same page as him, even if Yeosang is trying to hide how eager he is at the moment.

“Well,” Yunho sighs, smoothing his hands down the front of his jacket, “I caught glimpses of another idol she apparently likes, only this time she was picturing him as Sukuna.”

“Who?” Both San and Hongjoong snarl at the same time, Mingi and Wooyoung growling right along with them.

“I didn’t recognize him right away, but I could have sworn his name started with a ‘Jae’,” Yunho frowns, attempting to recall the memory in more detail.

“Like, the letter, or…?” Wooyoung quirks a brow.

“No, the first part of his name was ‘Jae’,” Yunho replies.

Immediately, both Jongho and Yeosang tense as the mental image of what you had been thinking about, or rather, whom, flashes in all of their minds, curtesy of Yunho.

“Jaehyun.” Yeosang spits out the name like it’s venom on his tongue, eyes flashing black beneath the rim of his hat.

“I thought she said he broke her heart without cause or care?” Jongho growls, immediately echoed by the seven demons surrounding him.

“Maybe it’s not the same one,” Wooyoung suggests, fingers twitching as his soul calls for blood to be shed right alongside Hongjoong’s very own.

“Oh, I believe it is.” Yeosang scowls.

“How could an idol break her heart?” Mingi frowns slightly, attempting to wrap his head around this situation. “Why would she still think of him, then?”

“Maybe she wasn’t being serious when she told you?” San suggests, holding onto that final hope before his own sanity snaps for the evening. He’s already ticked off about the council gathering enough, the last thing he needs is to not be able to make a rational decision when they need him to.

“Maybe.” Jongho grumbles, taking a seat on the stairs beside Mingi in the next moment.

“This doesn’t change the fact that she’s still thinking about other people.” Hongjoong states, voice firm as his fingers dig into the skin of his crossed arms. “Other men, no less.”

“I don’t know what else we can do apart from brainwashing her to make her like us faster,” Seonghwa mumbles, shaking his head in the next second as several pairs of eyes turn to glare at him.

“We’ve already agreed that that would be something we would never do.” Hongjoong’s voice is low, threatening. “Especially not to her.”

“I know,” Seonghwa exhales an exasperated breath. “It’s just difficult-“

“You think we don’t know that?” Yeosang shouts, standing back onto his feet instantly, eyes flashing once more. “It’s difficult for all of us, Seonghwa, not just you.”

“Maybe if you shared with us what you talked about last week, we’d all be a little bit more understanding,” Wooyoung grumbles, frown prominent on his features as he looks towards the eldest.

“That is not my memory to share, brother.” Seonghwa narrows his eyes back at the younger, noticing how they all seem to back off for the moment in understanding.

Then, a moment later, both Yunho and Jongho are letting out two very exasperated sighs of their own.

“Can we not focus on how she just complimented us before we left?” Yunho’s voice rumbles out, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck.

“Or even how she reacted when she first saw us tonight?” Jongho takes off his hat, running his fingers through his hair in the next moment.

“How long has it been since she’s looked at all of us with something other than caution, or malcontent in her eyes?” Hongjoong asks the question on all of their minds.

A moment of silence passes over them as they let his words sink in.

“Too long.” Yeosang’s voice nearly catches in his throat, overcome by the conflicting emotions swirling within himself at the events that have just taken place mere minutes before.

“We’ve all been making considerable progress with her just in this past month alone,” Mingi breathes. “Just imagine where we’ll be in another few weeks.”

“Believe me, I always do.” Yunho sighs.

“Maybe we should wear these more often.” Jongho jokes, motioning over the front of his outfit with the hand that’s still holding onto his hat as he stands.

“If it means her calling me handsome again, I’ll wear anything she wants.” San voices, a soft smile painting his features as he blinks a few times dreamily, recalling how your eyes roamed over his figure barely ten minutes earlier.

“Her comment was directed at me.” Wooyoung states, matter of factly, as his eyes narrow at San.

“In your fucking dreams, demon boy.” Seonghwa huffs, rolling his eyes as Wooyoung snarls at him in response.

“Every damn night, handsy,” Wooyoung retorts, taking a threatening step towards the eldest as his eyes flash black.

“Knock it off,” Hongjoong snaps, frown prominent on his features as he looks to each one of them. “All of you.”

Yunho sighs, “let’s just get through this stupid council meeting, and get back to our girl, yeah?”

Murmurs of agreement course throughout the room from all of them as Mingi stands back onto his feet. Begrudgingly, they all walk towards the main doors of the throne room in order to enter the grand hall where this council will be taking place. Everyone else should be there already, simply waiting for them to arrive. Besides, the sooner they can get this over with, the better. At least they can all agree on that.

They’re just lucky that the throne room is sound proof. Besides, no one would dare to eavesdrop on their Kings.

In an instant, the doors to the throne room are swinging open on silent hinges, the murmurs within the grand room coming to a halt as the eight kings make their appearance. Immediately, all those who have been summoned bow, taking a knee as the leaders appear before them. Only when Hongjoong flicks his wrist in an upwards motion do the other demons in the room stand back to their feet.

“Is there a reason you summoned us here tonight?” Hongjoong’s eyes narrow at the demons all standing around the room.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” one of the demons standing off to his right, Jax, begins.

“Then what is it?” Seonghwa’s scowl is prominent, annoyed that they couldn’t be told what this council was about in the letter they received summoning them here tonight.

“There have been issues recently between the major clans.” Jax responds.

“Issues?” Wooyoung quirks a brow.

“And you couldn’t figure it out yourselves?” Jongho huffs, unamused.

“There have been many attempts to settle the land disputes and power imbalances, but nothing has come to fruition.” Miyeon crosses her arms in front of her chest, clearly as annoyed as they are right now, if not more. “Not that you would care.”

In a flash, Hongjoong has her by the throat, her feet dangling in the air as she struggles in his grip. His eyes are pitch black and violent, snarl on his features as he blocks her airway.

Just like old times, huh, boys? Her voice resounding through all of their heads has disgust pulling onto their features.

“Watch your tone.” Hongjoong growls, tightening his grip on her neck.

Out of all of them, Hongjoong is the one who tolerates any sort of disrespect towards any of them the least. All of them know not to get in his way when he gets like this, but that doesn’t mean they won’t step in from time to time.

“We apologize for her stepping out of line,” Miyeon’s older sister, Mina steps forward, bowing lowly along with the rest of their clan who has decided to show up to this council tonight. “Please, hear us out.”

“Fine.” Carelessly, Hongjoong tosses Miyeon onto the floor at her clan’s feet. “Hurry up, we don’t have all night.”

No sentiment for old lovers? Miyeon heaves a breath as air returns to her lungs, looking up to meet Hongjoong’s gaze. You really have gone cold.

Watch your mind before we break it. Yunho harshly replies, eight sets of eyes glaring at the demon still on the ground at their feet.

The resentment is clear in her gaze as she looks back up at them, but also a hint of hurt lingers there. Wiping her cheek with the back of her hand, she stands back to her feet, too proud to apologize, even to them.

Fixating his gaze on Mina, Hongjoong motions for her to continue.

“The factions you previously divided up are beginning to attack one another for territory in the deeper parts of the realm. Many of the lower ranks are seeking power in any and every way they can, starting with the attempted annihilation of the better known clans.” Mina explains.

“How long has this been going on?” Mingi steps forward slightly.

“Two months.” Jax states.

“Two months?” San is this close to losing his temper, and he’s barely been in the room for more than five minutes. “No one thought to contact us earlier?”

“You seemed preoccupied.” Miyeon spits, arms crossed over her chest.

“It’s been over twenty years, Miyeon,” her father, Otis, whispers quite harshly to her as he steps forward to place a hand onto her shoulder. “Let it go.”

Instantly, she shrugs his hand off, standing a little straighter. Her eyes begin to blaze with an untamed fire only five of them have ever truly seen before.

Yeosang sighs, turning to meet Mina’s gaze, “what do you want us to do about it?”

“Killing them all would be nice, considering you usually don’t have any issues with that.” Miyeon huffs out a response instead, a roll to her eyes.

“Would you like to be the starting example?” Seonghwa tilts his head mockingly, eyes wide and wild as he stares her down.

At this, she stiffens, lowering her gaze from the intensity of his own.

Mina shoots her sister a look out of the corner of her eyes. “We would like your permission to protect ourselves without consequence against those that oppose us in our own domain.”

The eight of them all share a brief glance between one another before Hongjoong lets out a long sigh. “Do what you have to do.”

Many of the demons begin to grin around the room. Awful, malicious smirks that paint their features in shadows.

“However,” Yunho adds, drawing all of their attention back to the eight of them at the head of the room, “we will try any that you capture and bring before us if that is what you so wish. We have to make examples out of them somehow.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” choruses around the room.

“Is that all?” San quirks a brow, slightly hopeful that they can cut this council summoning short.

“No, Your Majesty,” Jax replies, suddenly cautious at the way he sees San’s expression fall back into an annoyed scowl. “There are quite a few other things as well.”

It takes them a full hour and a half to deal with each small individual complaint some of the other clans have, each one grating on their last nerve. Some of them are ridiculous, petty arguments that could be settled without their help, but unfortunately it seems some of their subjects cannot think for themselves. Others are there clearly to attempt to impress them, a fact which only makes them dislike them even more. Though, a few of them they can all agree upon that, yes, they did have to attend to that particular matter.

Still, all cannot wait to get back home to you.

Finally, after what feels like forever, they reach the end of the concerns from the surrounding demons. Some of them linger after the council concludes, talking amongst themselves or wanting to chat with their leaders about little things here and there. Of course, they have to keep appearances, so before they know it, Mingi, San, Wooyoung, and Yunho are all being dragged off by different clans to catch them up on whatever endeavours have transpired since the last time they talked to them.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa circle the room, making sure they’ve gotten all the information they can out of the demons who have requested something from them. Of course, their biggest concern is the potential threat to them. Any threat against them is a threat against you, and the last thing they want is for you to be caught in the crossfire in any way, shape, or form.

Jongho and Yeosang both stand off to the side for now, conversing amongst themselves until Jongho is being called over by the two eldest to help settle a small dispute between one of the major clans he rules over that has just seemingly arisen.

Letting out a sigh, Yeosang crosses his arms. A furrow creases his brow as he begins to think about what you may or may not be currently doing back at home. Oh, so badly does he just want to leave. To go ahead of his brothers and see you once more this evening. 

Perhaps it’s too much of a wishful thought on his part, but Yeosang cannot help but to imagine sneaking away while his brothers wrap up here in order to spend some quality time with you before they get back. He could watch an episode of Goblin with you, if that’s what you were doing. Really, it doesn’t matter to him, just as long as he gets to spend time with you. It’s not like he wants to check out this reaper you claim to like, or anything.

“Who is she?” Miyeon’s stern voice from behind him manages to pull him out of his own thoughts, turning around to face her in an instant.

“Excuse me?” Yeosang quirks a brow, slightly amused by her audacity.

“The new whore you all seem to be obsessed with.” She spits, and instantly, Yeosang has her pinned to the wall, cracks appearing from how harshly he’s slammed her into it.

“Watch your fucking mouth.” His eyes are black, a snarl on his lips.

“I knew it,” she huffs out a breath, shaking her head as Mingi is the first to appear beside Yeosang, followed shortly by San and Wooyoung a little ways away.

Carefully, Mingi places a hand on his brother’s shoulder, his own anger from overhearing Miyeon’s words hardly being restrained as he attempts to pull Yeosang off of her.

You’re just giving her what she wants. Mingi’s voice resounds in Yeosang’s head.

I don’t care. Yeosang growls out threateningly as he feels Miyeon begin to struggle beneath his hold, only causing him to harshly push her further into the wall. If she thinks she can say these things about My Dearest, then she has another thing coming.

Most of the other demons around the room vanish in an instant, not wanting to incur the wrath that they are sure is about to be brought down upon Miyeon. However, those few that remain, mainly from her own clan, can only watch on in shock, frozen in fear, and much too terrified to interfere.

“Is the sex that good that you would rather bed a human than me?” Her question is directed at all of them, but really only four in particular. At the way she sees Hongjoong appear beside Yeosang, one of his signature blades clutched dangerously in his hand, she knows she’s struck something.

“I never bedded you,” Yeosang spits, venom laced in every word. “Nor have I ever wanted to.”

Mingi manages to pull Yeosang off of her finally, taking a few steps back as Seonghwa comes to stand beside Hongjoong, his own hand placed on the younger’s shoulder.

“Miyeon, I think we’ve overstayed our welcome-“

“This is bullshit!” She shouts, cutting off her sister instantly. “Since when do Kings submit to dirt?”

The knife is embedded within her left shoulder before anyone can react, Hongjoong’s chest heaving with every breath he takes. Black eyes full of malice meet Miyeon’s own, and she finds no sympathy in any of the other’s gazes, not even those she was closest to.

Clutching the handle of the dagger, Miyeon rips it out of her shoulder, blood trickling out of her wound.

“There was a time when you would have done anything for me.” She voices, somewhat disappointedly. “Now, it’s all for some pathetic human? What a joke.”

“Miyeon.” Her father warns.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Hongjoong tilts his head, nothing but a sinister grin pulling at his lips as he looks at her with mock sympathy. “I never cared for you in the first place.”

Miyeon screams in rage, throwing the dagger directly at Hongjoong who catches it with ease, tutting all the while as he shakes his head.

Instantly, his eyes flash, and the blade is protruding from her opposite shoulder.

Almost pleadingly, she turns to look at San, then Wooyoung, and then Mingi, until she spares a glance at the other four, “are you really going to let him treat me like this? Did I mean nothing to you?”

“Twenty years ago I might have felt a little bad about this,” Wooyoung shrugs, leaning against one of the pillars at the side of the room. Already, he’s barely holding onto his fury, about two seconds away from skinning Miyeon alive for what she’s already said about you.

“You mean nothing to us.” Mingi states, looking down upon her with a blank gaze.

“You are nothing.” San’s eyes swirl with that all too familiar blackness, arms crossed as he attempts to keep his whole body from shaking in rage.

Miyeon’s expression drops only momentarily before a vicious scowl tugs at her features.

“You’ll grow tired of that whore soon enough.” She spits, clutching at the dagger embedded in her opposite shoulder, the blade too deep this time to simply rip out. “From the looks of things, she’s playing hard to get. Must be agony not being able to wet your dicks when you want to.”

Immediately, Seonghwa has her by the throat against the wall, more cracks appearing as he slams her back into the same spot Yeosang had just been holding her against. His eyes flash black as he growls threateningly, teeth bared in a snarl. “One more word form you and I’ll snap your fucking neck.”

“Seonghwa.” It’s Jongho that manages to pull the eldest off of her this time, practically holding him back as the youngest puts a leash on his own anger.

Then, her father is taking a cautious step forward, looking sternly towards his daughter, yet too scared to properly intervene. “Miyeon, that’s enough.”

“Get her out of our sights.” Hongjoong spits, beginning to turn his back to her, not wanting to deal with this situation any longer.

Surprisingly, Yunho has been quiet this whole time, but all of them know that there is a storm raging behind those dark eyes of his as he stands the furthest away from the scene out of the eight of them.

However, before either her father or her sister can reach her, Miyeon manages to get out some final words. Unfortunately for her, they are her very own death sentence.

“That’s right, run back to the little human slut,” she huffs out a laugh. “What was her name, anyways? Oh, right,” a malicious grin stretches across her lips as she watches Hongjoong freeze with his back turned to her as she says your name with nothing but pure venom on her tongue. “I wonder what you’ll all do when she’s dead.”

Before anyone else has a chance to react, Hongjoong has Miyeon by the jaw against the wall. A resounding crack echoes throughout the room, but this time, it’s not from the wall.

“Get My Love’s sacred name out of your filthy mouth.” Hongjoong leans in to whisper lowly in Miyeon’s ear as tears begin to line her eyes, his own as black as night and calling for blood. “If I ever hear you say her name again, I will carve your tongue out of your mouth after I make you taste the contents of your innards from ripping them out of you in the most painful ways I know how.”

Her breath catches, the first of her tears falling from her eyes as his words sink in. He never called her that before. He never threatened anyone who threatened her, so why you? What makes you so special?

Miyeon’s jaw throbs, the broken bone cracked in multiple places as Hongjoong squeezes his hand harder against her.

“What’s the matter, Mimi?” He hums in mock concern, practically hissing her old nickname they gave her back at her, making her whimper as his eyes hold that crazed look in them that she knows all too well. “Cat got your tongue?”

She looks around once more, noticing the other seven look at her just as darkly, eyes calling for her blood to be spilt - for her soul to be torn apart until there’s nothing left but a wisp of a memory in her family’s minds.

White hot fury courses through her veins as she continues being held against the cracked wall by Hongjoong. A jealous fire worse than Hongjoong’s own burns within her, absolutely despising your very existence. Tears fall freely down her face as she blinks, her mind running wild with plans to absolutely destroy you for taking them away from her.

Only, they were never hers to begin with.

At one particular thought, Yunho’s eyes flash and a scream is tearing from Miyeon’s throat as she slumps in Hongjoong’s grip. He releases his hold on her, letting her fall limply to the floor as he steps away from her in disgust.

Of course she would pass out. Yunho only made her feel like thousands of tiny needles were stabbing her mind. Not quite enough to break her, but enough to serve as a warning if she ever were to act on those thoughts and come after you.

Wiping his hands on the front of his coat, Hongjoong turns to face Otis, a look of severe discontent shining in his pure black eyes.

“If we ever see her here again, we will not be so kind.” Hongjoong snaps, the others falling in line beside him as their own eyes flash black. “Now, get out of our sights.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, all of the demons, save for Mina and Otis leave the room. It only takes two seconds for them to grab Miyeon’s body, and to be transporting themselves away from the grand hall, but neither father nor sister will forget the burning gazes of all eight of their leaders boring holes into them as they did so.

Once the room clears, San turns and punches a hole right through the wall beside him, the entire building shaking from the intensity of his fist. “Fuck.”

“You really know how to pick ‘em.” Wooyoung rounds on San instantly.

“Don’t you dare pin this on me, you wanted her as much as I did twenty years ago, too.” San snaps back at the younger male.

“She only used us to try and get to Yeosang, anyways.” Mingi sighs, taking off his hat as he crouches to the ground. “He was the only one she truly wanted.”

“Yeah, until Yunho started training her mentally,” Jongho rolls his eyes, arms crossed in front of his chest. “Then it was like a game to her of how many of us she could try and trap.”

“Don’t remind me,” Yunho sighs, taking his own hat off to run his fingers through his hair. They all know he regrets it the most out of all of them.

Seven heads turn to look at Hongjoong who is currently zoning out and staring intently at the cracked wall, chest heaving with every breath he takes.

“Captain, are you okay?” Yeosang voices the question on all of their minds.

A full minute passes by, and they still get no response.

“Captain?” Jongho attempts to catch Hongjoong’s attention, but the fire he sees burning behind the elder’s gaze has him backing down for the moment.

“Hongjoong.” It’s Seonghwa who manages to pull the younger back to reality by placing a hand onto his shoulder, fingers digging into the material of his jacket.

“I should have killed her.” Hongjoong hisses, eyes flashing black once more. “I should have made an example of her right where she stood when I had the chance.”

“But you did.” Mingi is the first to assure him. “We’ve now warned her clan of the consequences, and we have every right to skin her alive the next time we see her. And if she so much as thinks about harming our love…”

Mingi lets his words trail off, resounding growls of agreement rumbling through the air between all of them.

“Believe me, we all wanted to skin her alive for what she said about our love just now.” Wooyoung snarls, along with both San and Seonghwa.

“It’s my fault for allowing her to bait me.” Yeosang’s jaw clenches as he looks towards the cracked wall once more. “If I didn’t react-“

“You did what you felt was best,” Seonghwa states, voice somewhat reassuring as he drops his hand from Hongjoong’s shoulder finally. “If she cornered me like that I would have torn her head clean off.”

“We all know you wanted to, anyways,” Mingi snorts, rolling his eyes.

“You wouldn’t have complained.” Seonghwa crosses his arms in front of his chest as Mingi raises his hands palms upwards, shrugging in agreement.

“How did she even know about our love’s name, anyways?” San’s inquiry has a growl rising on all of their lips at the memory of mere minutes ago.

“It’s easier to invade someone’s mind without them knowing during times of extreme emotion or distress, especially when they are experiencing uncontrollable anger, pain, or fear.” Yunho states, eyes blankly staring ahead of him. “I fear I trained her too well. It could have been any one of us she gathered that information from.”

“It’s been twenty fucking years,” San voices, exasperatedly. “You think she’d give it a rest by now, and recognize that we’ve moved on.”

“That’s the problem, though, isn’t it?” Jongho blinks, his expression unamused. “You’ve forgotten about her, but she clearly hasn’t let go of you.”

“You were right not to get involved back then,” Mingi sighs, directing his comment at the youngest.

“I warned you guys,” Jongho huffs out a breath as he shrugs, essentially telling them all ‘I told you so’.

“Yeah, yeah,” Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “The past has passed. We’re not going to change it now.”

“If she so much as even tries anything that she had been thinking in the end,” Hongjoong finally speaks once more, voice low and ominous, like the calm of an approaching storm, “I will destroy her.”

Seven growls of agreement resonate throughout the room, their eyes all flashing black once more.

“There’s no way that she can get into our own personal domain, especially not when we’re there.” Seonghwa reasons, though there’s a hint of worry in his tone. 

You’re now in constant danger due to Miyeon, and if her family cannot control her, then the eight of them will have to act, and fast. No one comes after you without them knowing about it. No one touches you, or will bring you any harm. At least, not while they are around. They will always protect you, whether you realize it or not.

“Our wards are far too intricate for the likes of her,” Yeosang agrees, silently reassuring the eldest with just a glance.

“It’s not like we can’t protect her.” Yunho adds, the other seven humming along with him.

“If we take our beloved anywhere outside of our domain, we’ll just have to be extra careful now.” Wooyoung voices the thoughts on all of their minds.

“Agreed.” Mingi, San, Yunho, and Jongho all say at once, the other three nodding along with them.

“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’d rather not return to our beloved ready to tear into someone’s throat.” San smiles tightly, noticing how Wooyoung, Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and Yunho all flick their brows upwards in agreement.

“Why don’t we pay those little demons stirring up trouble a visit?” Yeosang voices, almost nonchalantly.

“Two birds with one stone,” Mingi shrugs, standing back to his full height and straightening out his jacket.

“As much as I want to be getting back home to our girl, considering how long we’ve already been gone, I think this would be best for all of us.” Yunho nods in agreement, placing his hat back onto his head.

“I could relieve some stress,” Jongho hums, brushing off the arms of his jacket.

“Good.” Seonghwa takes in a deep breath before turning to Hongjoong. “Captain?”

They all look to their leader, awaiting his final orders.

Hongjoong grins, a malicious tug to his lips as his eyes darken, “let’s go spill some blood.”

[winns-stuff]

LO RANT:

Okay, so yeah I saw that damn instagram post and all I have to say is this: If Hades so much as touch a single fucking hair or limb on Demeter, even her damn clothes I will definitely be absolutely outraged. I don’t give a fuck, Demeter took so much shit for Persephone and no I’m not saying that she isn’t a helicopter mom or anything literally read my recent appreciation post about her, tells you everything you need to know, but she does not deserve to be yelled at or insulted by this random ass man. I’m so tired of everyone just blindly appreciating and congratulating Hades’ behavior, whatever the fuck Demeter has to say she can say it to Persephone her own daughter and Hades can stop coming into Persephone’s problems without her permission and dictating whatever and whoever Persephone is allowed to speak to, the shit is annoying.

And then there’s so many people saying how “he’s gonna say that she belongs there and she’s an adult now so she can make her own decisions.” It doesn’t fucking seem like it because yet again someone is handling her own problems for her and she’s not even trying to take a stand on her own! She’s never had. Whenever push comes to shove she always has someone else helping her or literally doing everything for her! The shit is stupid honestly, I cannot explain how much I absolutely hate how this webcomic keeps saying how mature and adult like Persephone has gotten when she still does the same shit, I can’t be so accepting of so little development that was supposed to be good over the past 10 years. I feel like it’s so dumb and irritating that there is so many people trying to make Persephone seem like she’s this put together adult when the comic does not do anything that involves making her seem like an adult, she’s not put together at all or mature and there’s never any effort to make her like that.

Also I hate how everyone continuously disrespects Demeter, she’s not a fucked up person! She’s done some things that has put Persephone in unfavorable situations yes but she’s only ever trying to protect her. She cares about her daughter and any mother who absolutely hated her child or neglected her child would not even try and do half of the stuff that Demeter did for Persephone, no I am not saying that Persephone is ungrateful or anything I’m just tired of this comic always singling out Demeter and making it seem like she’s such a bad mother when she’s not. She’s a mother who cares dearly about her daughter, a mother who knows all about the three kings and how they do things and just how terrible they can be, she knows that her daughter is a fertility goddess and most likely would be devoured if anyone knew of her ability, there’s so many factors about why Demeter did what she’s done. She didn’t do things the best but I’m sick of people thinking that her actions came from a place of hatred or anything it came from a place of love! And it’s so much more than half of the cast has ever even been doing for Persephone.

Also something that I hate that some commenters said is why Demeter hates Hades so much, maybe it’s because the first recent encounter that she’s had with him was her trying to sober him up after he got himself drunk in the mortal realm, disrupting her work and possibly waking up the nymphs (children and babies included) and causing a wreck, which sadly she can’t even do anything about because Hades is known for blowing up on anybody and anyone who mildly inconveniences him and plus he’s a damn king, there’s no way that you wouldn’t have somewhat of a distain towards him after that and besides Persephone is in the damn Underworld somewhere she’s never been and somewhere she literally has no support except Hades and Hecate none of her friends are there and she doesn’t even know what she’s been doing down there or what she’s been through.

Also I’m getting annoyed at people comparing Apollo and Hades by saying “at least he didn’t do that”, you’re right he didn’t do that but he is literally no better all the fucking men (except Thanatos and Hermes) are all the same when it comes to Persephone, I don’t care if he’s “more respectful” he’s quite literally just decent and why do we need to praise him for doing the bare minimum, is the bar for the men that low that we’re thankful that he’s at least respectful to Persephone? This just gives more evidence that half the men in the cast are quite literally the worst and there’s nothing setting them apart from each other except one having slightly more respect for the female love interest but still having the same intentions and actions towards her. Yes this is a completely biased sentence but I don’t give a fuck I hate Hades and I hate how much no one even acknowledges his very huge flaws, he has not even changed there’s been 0 development he’s literally just the same as before.

Also, and I’ve said this before but, I do not appreciate SOME of the commenters being happy about Hades possibly being aggressive towards Demeter or becoming physical. I don’t care how much you do not like Demeter there should never be a point where you wish violence on someone especially by the opposite gender, it seems to be a common theme in the fandom to wish terrible things on characters that you don’t like. I know it’s all just fiction but I can’t just ignore how disgusting some of those comments are, they’re to the point where it gets disturbing for me. But it also just irks me because that’s Persephone’s mother, the one who raised her and protected her from all harm that could’ve been done if not for her, I feel like people should have more respect for her and yes they’ve had arguments and such but all of their problems could be worked out by words and conversation, I’m tired of most of the fandom demonizing Demeter’s actions and making it seem like she did something unforgivable when other characters that a lot of them love have done a lot worse.

But that’s all for now, I’m sorry I just had to say something or else I would be upset for the rest of the day, that whole panel was unnecessary and I’m so upset at the fact that Rachel wanted to make Demeter look so powerless and distressed in the panel to the point of tears just for her to be dragged in the comments, it’s so annoying to me. But anyways like I always say these rants are meaningless and no one should take them seriously, if you agree to this rant that’s fine and if you don’t it’s fine too, I don’t mean to just bag the whole fandom because I know it’s not everyone but it’s too many people in the fandom who think that Demeter is just terrible so that’s why I just said fandom, but later once I mellow out a little I’ll change it to say most instead of seemingly like all, but this isn’t to attack any fans just to speak my opinions about the behavior that some fans displayed in the comments under the spoiler, this shouldn’t be used as fuel to become an anti or to harass and insult any fans because we’re all different and we all interpret things differently, this is just what I interpreted from the situations so it’s illogical to take my opinions and form it into your own if you truly don’t think like that, instead you should see for yourself what you truly believe. I’m not the most knowledgeable person ever either, just a random teen on the internet.

[lushta1es0nm3]

Not So Innocent

Pairing: Jacob Bae x reader

Summary: Watch out for sweet ones, they know how to make it sting.

Warning: Mature! 18+ you have been warned

Genre: Straight up smut

A/N: Read at your own risk and if you choose to read please feel free to give feedback and request. Please enjoy. 😊

——————————————

“Haha, that’s so lame,” your best friend laughed out at a stupid joke Eric made.

You huffed annoyed because you guys were supposed to be working on a group project, like come on you were in a cafe with all of your books spread out in front of you. You just really wished, the two of them would stop fluttering and do some work.

You rolled your eyes again and you tried your best to concentrate on what was in front of you. A gentle hand on your shoulder caused you to look up, Jacob, your other group partner had finally showed up.

“Sorry I’m late,” he apologized sweetly to everyone at the table as he sat down and began unloading his stuff, “what did I miss?”

“Oh nothing,” you answered glaring at the other two, “just y/bff/n and Eric fluttering like there’s not a very important group project we’re supposed to be working on.”

“Ew,” your friend frowned at you, “don’t act like that. Jealously don’t look good on you.”

“Bitch,” you eyed her, “ain’t no body jealous of you fluttering with Eric big headed ass.”

She blinked at you and laughed because of a look of disbelief crossed Eric’s face. Did you just diss him to his face? Yes. Did you care? No. Because you were ready to go home.

“Come on guys don’t be like that.” Jacob smiled trying to stop the staring contest you and Eric were now having, he opened his laptop, “what animal are we doing this project on?” He asked.

“How about one on y/n’s big ass forehead, it has its own eco system.” Eric shot out.

“I know you didn’t go there,” you blurted out, “that’s why you can cut paper with that sharp ass chin, you need to get that bitch filed down.”

Your best friend was now in tears laughing, one because she knew how much Eric annoyed you and because she knew you only really put up with him was because of her crush on him.

“At least I’m not built like a lego.” Eric shot back, he was with the shit, because you always seemed to have an issue with him and he knew it.

“Oh uh uh,” you stood up, “let’s not talk about them long ass eyebrows you got with them little ass eyes.”

“Hey, hey,” Jacob stood up trying to bring in the peace, “how about this,” he looked between the both of you. Eric was smirking and you were frowning, “how about we work in teams. Me and y/n and Eric and y/bff/n,” he handed your best friend a slip of paper with the information for your project.

She was too busy trying to stop laughing at the stupidity that just erupted. Jacob gathered both your things and pulled up out of the cafe, but that didn’t stop the annoyed look on your face. Half a block down the street, you stopped and looked at Jacob and sighed.

“Now, why you stop me?” You asked him with a small sigh.

“Because,” he started as you both began walking again, to your surprise he was carrying your backpack, “I don’t want to see you guys fight.”

“You’re always so sweet and innocent acting.” You smiled a little, looking up at him.

You’d known Jacob since freshman year of college, he was alway nice to everyone and very mannerable. You got along with him because of that and because you had a slight crush on him but you buried the thought the closer you got to him. He seemed a little too innocent for you, so being friends was good enough.

“No I’m not,” he rejected your comment and shoved his free hand in his pocket. You walked and talked about random things, but eventually went back to the subject of the group project, “hey, we should set up a time to put our part together. I have work in a little bit,” he looked at his watch checking the time, “but I get off early tomorrow, so where should we set up shop?”

“Definitely not at my place,” you quickly replied, “if I’m not mistaken, my roommate is working on the same project with someone who said I was built like a lego.”

Jacob laughed at you and you made a face, “then we can do it at my place, my roommate won’t be home till late, we have a printer and a projector. So we can get a lot done in no time.”

“Okay,” you agreed, “I’ll bring my laptop. Around what time do you want me to be there?”

“How about around, 8:30ish.” He answered.

You nodded in agreement, dang, this would be your first time going to his place. A part of you was excited but you kept it hidden as you took down his address and waved him goodbye as you both went your separate ways.

The next day

You rang the apartment doorbell, holding your backpack in one hand and you laptop bag in the other. It wasn’t hard to find Jacobs place, it wasn’t to far from the school but close enough for you to walk to it.

The door opened and Jacob greeted you, but you didn’t greet him back. You only stared at him, shocked by his appearance. The usual innocent looking Jacob seemed to have been replaced by a bad boy version of him. You looked him up and down in shock.

“Y/n,” he called to you holding the door open for you to come in, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you blunted put, “are you okay?” pointing at him.

He looked down at himself, “Oh,” he smiled after taking a look at himself, “I sometimes sing and play guitar at this bar, I work at,” he explained, “it’s distance away from here. I actually just got in, I was about to change, I mean if you don’t mind waiting a bit.”

“Naw,” you answered almost breathtakingly, finally walking into his apartment, still looking at him, he was so fine dressed like that, you couldn’t help it, you were getting an eye full, “you good, I’ll just get started.”

He nodded and headed off to his bedroom, you watched as he walked away, mainly looking at his ass, “Damn.” You mumbled before covering your mouth, hoping he didn’t hear you. But he did, and instead of turning around and looking at you, he kept walking.

After you had set up your laptop and pulled out your books, you began to try can concentrate on what you were doing. But no, you mind kept playing slow motion images of Jacob dressed like a sex symbol. A sex symbol you wanted to ride like a pony, with your hands all over his chest. Shit, you thought, why he gotta be so damn fine and delicious looking, especially his eyes, so damn pretty. Like Jacob, just take me now, you thought closing your eyes and shaking your head as explicit thoughts ran wild at the thought.

“Okay,” Jacob smiled coming from his bedroom completely changed, now wearing a black v neck shirt and pair of basketball shorts that weren’t hiding much, “how far have you gotten?” He asked looking down at your paper that had nothing but his name written on it multiple times, “is the project about me?” He laughed looking back and forth between you and the paper.

Your eyes widened as realization hit you, you quickly tried to cover it up, making him laugh harder, he watched as your face flushed red before grabbing your notebook from you causing you to hop up out of your seat to get it back. It was took late, he had flipped a few pages, to the pages no one was supposed to see.

“Damn, Jacob looks fine as hell but he’s too innocent for my dirty mind,” he read the very last page out loud, “I wish he’d just fuck while looking at me with those bright eyes-”

“I didn’t not write that,” you interrupted him trying to get your notebook back, he had sat down on the table and you reached for it.

“Really now,” he remarked throwing the book behind him on the table, “that looked like your handwriting,” he stated wrapping his arms around you.

Shit, you thought, how the fuck did I manage to get caught, he gonna think I’m some kinda freak now, you thought not looking at him.

“Hey, y/n,” he called your name, “I’m not all that innocent.” He said making you look up at him finally, about to tell him he was a liar, he quickly caught your chin between his thumb and index finger, looking you dead in the eyes, “I know how to fuck, baby doll. I’ve sometimes wonder if maybe you can handle it.” He whispered in your ear, making you instantly wet.

You couldn’t speak, all you could do was stare into his eyes. Your body seemed to move on its own, you slowly leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on his lips and pulled away. He smirked and kissed you back, “you’re going to have to do better than that, baby.” He whispered out

Staring at him turned on you kissed him again, this time, shoving your tongue in his mouth and exploring before pulling away, “much better doll,” he remarked leaning in towards you, standing up from the table, “but let me show you how it’s done.” He stated before quickly picking you up and setting you on the table as he pushed your books to he floor.

Jacob spread your legs open and pulled his shirt off, his chest on full display, your hands went forward running your hands across it. He smirked pushing up the skirt you were wearing and pulling your underwear off, “Damn,” he sighed, “so wet already.” He remarked when you finally felt one of his hands rub across your pussy.

“Only for you.” You stated now pulling off your shirt as well, exposing your bra covered chest. He kissed you again while rubbing your clit, you pulled away from him, “so much pressure.” You moaned when you felt him slowly shove one of his fingers in.

He only smiled at you, looking at you intently while he fingered you soaking pussy, adding a finger as went on, enjoying the way your chest rise and falls with each deep breath you took, “You like that don’t you baby doll?” He questioned his lips grazing yours as he spoke, you nodded, “say it with that pretty mouth of yours,” he beckoned.

“I like it Bae,” you moaned out his last name making his eyes spark as he raised and eyebrow.

“Good,” he pulled his fingers out and licked all of your juices off, a deep moan emitting from his throat as he did so, “I’m just getting started.” Jacob stated as he abruptly pushed you down on your back and pulled himself out of his shorts, dropping them to the floor in the process. He slowly filled your pussy with his throbbing cock, making you gasp out a moan just above a whisper. He pulled your hips forward, going balls deep, making you release a small yelp like moan, with on hand squeezing your breast he used the other to hold you in place as thrusted into you slowly and hard, “damn, baby doll you feel so good.” He groaned softly as he rolled his hips with each thrust, sending you further into bliss.

“Fuck me.” You whispered out softly, now fondling your other breast and rubbing your clit to the rhythm of each thrust.

He frowned and pushed your hands away, Jacob stopped and grabbed both your legs, he put them on his shoulder and held your arms down at your sides as he began to rail you harshly. The sound of sex and moans filled the air as your mouth hung open.

“Look at me.” Jacob demanded ramming into you making you arch your back. You did as you were told, all of it felt too good to be true, but nonetheless you locked eyes with Jacob, your lips parted as desperate moans escaped freely.

Your walls trembled and clenched around him, “Just like thar baby,” Jacob encouraged you as he tried to go deeper into your pussy, “cum for me like that.”

“So deep.” You cried out sending him into over drive. He slammed into twice sending you tumbling over the cliff of complete bliss. Your entire body trembling, he let go of your arms and dropped your legs from his shoulders as he kissed you deeply. All the while grinding into you riding your orgasm out.

He pulled you into a tight imbrace, never breaking the deepest kiss you ever had. His tongue explored your mouth unceasingly as he thrusted into you long and deep. He finally pulled away, you were out of breath and your mind was fuzzy, “I’m almost there,” he groaned locking eyes with you, his lips mere inches from yours, “fuck your so tight and hot. Milk me dry baby doll.”

His words made your hips buck up as you tightened around him. It felt like he was in your stomach, making a whimper of pleasure leave your lips. He picked you from the table still fucking you in mid air, holding you close. You felt him throb and twitch right before he rammed into you quickly. You felt him pulsing inside of you as he came deep into your pussy.

Jacob placed you back on top of the table, his stayed inside of you as he kissed you deeply yet again, while holding you flush to his chest. The kiss lasted for what felt like forever but you were okay with that, you could still feel pulsing inside of you. He finally began to pull out and you both looked down, a thick white stream followed his dick as finally pulled completely out of you.

He kissed your forehead “Are you okay?” He asked in a very caring tone, you nodded, “better than you imagined I hope?” You blushed and pecked his lips, “let’s go clean up,” Jacob helped you down from the table, looking at the clock on the wall, “I think my roommate is on the way home. Let’s hurry baby.”

After showering and more fucking, yes more sex. You both finally left the shower. Jacob walked behind, he was indeed looking at your ass, he was trying to go for round three but you shot him down because you were sore and because after proper examination. You realized why, he had a nice thick package and you knew if you guys had kept going on, you’d be sore for a while.

“Jacob,” you heard someone call his name, you looked up at the young man standing in the living room holding up one of your books, “what the hell happened in here?”

“Oh,” Jacob greeted him, “welcome home, Kevin this is, y/n. Y/n this is Kevin my roommate and best friend.” He introduced you both to each other.

You waved as Kevin stood there looking back and forth between the two of you and the mess that was on the floor, “wait a damn minute.” Kevin mumbled, he went to say something else but Jacob cut him off.

“Ah, well Kevin, we have a project we’re supposed to be working on,” Jacob said quickly clearing his throat, and grabbing both of your books, “if you’ll excuse us, we have a have a long night ahead of us.”

Jacob grabbed your hand and quickly pulled you into his bedroom, but you didn’t miss the loud as “Oh hell naw, Jacob!” Come from Kevin who still stood in the living room shocked.

“Now,” Jacob smiled sweetly at you as he sat everything down on his desk, “shall we at least come up with an outline before we call it a night?”

You nodded and stood beside Jacob who had sat down at his desk. He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you into his lap, liking how you looked wearing his clothes. You picked up a pen and started writing and Jacob followed, in no time your outline was done.

Somehow Jacob talked you into a make out session, this time you both were laying in bed. He was straddling you, devouring your lips like they were the best thing he ever tasted. You felt him bulge up and grind his hips into you. A sound came from you but it was muffled by his lips, that he wouldn’t let go of.

He eventually pulled away after grinding into a few more time “You know,” he started his eyes tracing over your face, “if you had’ve told me from day one that you liked me, I’d have you well trained by now.”

You scoffed, “what makes you think I liked your from day one?” You questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Because, you look at me differently than everyone else,” he stated honestly, “everyone else sees me as plain old Jacob. But your eyes tell how you feel, no matter how hard you try to hide it. I’m the only one you look at like that, you’ve had that look in your eyes since day one.”

“Remind me to where sunglasses from now on.” You huffed out with a smile.

Jacob pecked your lips “No, don’t hide those beautiful eyes.” He remarked grinding into you hard, the pressure caused you to let out a hushed whispered moan.

“Jacob,” you started, he kept going at an even pass, “we’re supposed to be going to sleep.” You said between deep breaths.

“I know,” he acknowledged adding more pressure, “I can’t help it. I gave you thin shorts with no underwear for a reason,” you could feel every bit of his erection poking at your entrance,?“Byou have no idea how long I’ve wanted you baby doll.”

“Jacob,” you whispered softly, “your roommate is going to hea-,” your breath got caught in your throat when you felt his thick cock enter you in one swift motion. You opened your eyes that you didn’t know you had closed and looked up at Jacob, who had started to thrust into you slowly, “please, I’m gonna be so sore in the morning,” you whispered trying to hold in your moans between words, “your not so innocent, make it quick Bae.”

Just the words he needed to hear, he planted his lips on yours, plummeting his tongue down your throat. You opened your legs wide, allowing him to began pounding into you, rocking your whole body. It didn’t take long for you to climax for the fourth time tonight, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Jacob coming not too long after, he lay on top of you out of breathe.

You laced your hands into his hair as he lay on your chest, with one of his hands up your shirt and resting on your boob, “it’s going to be along night,” you stated, your chest heaving up and down, “never judge a book by its cover.”

Jacob laughed as you both looked at each other in amusement, because you were right. You both fall asleep after another round, only to wake up the next morning and get ate out like a five star meal. Damn Jacob wasn’t so innocent after.

[intellectualfallacy]

how about a yandere!sang-woo smut with fem!reader? kinks is corruption and innocence kink (if you are uncomfy you can feel free to not do them) <33

A/N: Those kinks are totally fine for me lollll I've read a lot of yandere but never written it myself so I hope this was accurate to it! As always, thanks for the request! <3

Rating: Mature 18+

MINORS DNI

Warning(s): Smut, Yandere!, Restraint (Hands), Corruption/ Innocence Kink, Choking (light), Squirting, Oral (F! receiving)

“You’re mine, right?”

My breath caught as his hand grasped my chin, forcing me to face him. His dark hair stuck into his forehead as his face was covered in a sheen of sweat and the lower half covered in my juices. His eyes bore into me, desperate for an answer. His gaze held an intense desire, one I hadn't seen before. I wanted to turn away but there wasn’t much I could do, anyways. My hands were tied to the headboard above my head as I was splayed across the bed naked, his hands holding my legs apart. His favorite tie was wrapped around my mouth, muffling the sounds I made as he ate me out for the last half hour. At least I guessed. The moment I came home, he was on me. Babbling about how much he missed me in between passionate kisses, saying how much he couldn’t stand it when I was gone for so long. It wasn’t unexpected. He could get like that from time to time, especially when I worked overtime. I’d be lying if I said I never enjoyed it when he did.

I nodded, his hand coming up to release the tie around my mouth. I gasped slightly as it was removed, my jaw slightly aching from being in the same position for that long. “I need you to say it.” He said. I huffed before saying, “I’m yours, Sangwoo.” He gave me a passionate kiss before he let go, moving his body back slightly from in between my legs. “And you were counting like I asked?” He said, grabbing my legs to spread them, licking his lips as he stared down at my swollen pussy. “Mhm.” I hummed, my cheeks heating up as he simply stared. “How many times?” He asked nonchalantly, bringing up a hand and slipping down the tie from around my neck. I huffed slightly before saying, “Three.” He looked back up at me, letting out a satisfied groan as he gave a smirk. “You’re always so good for me.” He replied, moving back over me to capture my lips. “Just for me.” His lips drifted from my lips to place kisses on my face before trailing back down to my lips, shoving his tongue into my mouth. “Would you like more? Hm?” He asked, biting my bottom lip as he moved back. “Yes.” I moaned, feeling his hands grip my knees as I kept my feet flat against the bed.

He groaned as he let a hand drift along my thigh. "Sweetheart, you just came three times." Two digits slipped in easily into me, causing me to let out a breathy moan. "Aren't you tired?" He asked, his other hand moving down to tease my nipples. I shook my head, whimpering as he moved his fingers at a slow pace. His expression softened, bringing a thumb up to rub my clit. "Really? How many times does my sweetheart want to come then?" He asked, tilting his head slightly. "Sangwoo." I whimpered, arching my back in an effort to receive more friction from him. I knew what he wanted me to do. It was always his goal to get me to talk as vulgar as he did, to try any fantasy I wanted to in the bedroom. He made it clear he wouldn't have any limits for me, he'd be my guide into the world of pleasure he could give me.

"What is it?" He asked, leaning down to capture a nipple in his mouth. I moaned loudly as his movements sent shocks all over my body, unintentionally yanking on the tie still keeping me there. "I need you." I gasped, arching my back again as his tongue flicked against my nipple. I was always amazed how well he could use his tongue. Detaching himself from me, he gave a smile as he gazed down at me. "There you go." He said, slipping in a third finger as his pace fell painfully slow. His other hand grasped my chin again, completely covering my vision with just him. "Do you want me just like this?" He asked, his voice lowering as he suddenly pulled his fingers out, thrusting them back in harshly. A loud moan escaped me at the feeling, whimpering as he started a faster pace. Not enough to cause me to come undone, but enough to get his point across. I nodded, biting my lip. Noticing, he moved his finger to my bottom lip. Wordlessly, I opened my mouth, licking a stripe under his thumb before taking it in. He groaned and clenched his jaw as I moved my tongue against him like I did when I blew him. I let my eyelashes flutter as we continued, both of enjoying the moment. While it was enjoyable, I'm sure he'd make it far more exciting.

I bit down slightly on his thumb, signaling him to remove it. He removed his thumb, me gasping slightly as spit dribbled down my chin and chest. "You're so beautiful." He said, moving back to take in my whole body. "Sangwoo." He looked back at me, nodding slightly as he waited for what I was going to say. "I want you to fuck me." I said. A smile crossed his face as he lent down to give me a passionate kiss. "I can't begin to explain how happy I get when I hear those words from you." He said, pressing a kiss against my forehead before beginning to reach for the tie around my hands. "No." I stopped him, making him look down. "I want to keep those on." I couldn't help but smile back as he had a gleeful expression on his face. "You're an angel." He said, smiling before moving and settling himself between my legs again as he placed a pillow under my lower back.

That smile quickly turned into a smirk as I gasped slightly when his hands roughly spread my legs. "Such a dirty, dirty angel." I let out a shaky breath as his hands lowered, spreading my folds to expose myself more to him. I whimpered slightly as I could feel my juices slipping down my ass, him giving a dark chuckle. "Getting wet just from me looking?" He asked, looking back up to me. His stare changed from delighted to lust-filled, making my legs weak. "Yes." I replied. After a moment, he moved his hands to spread my legs more. I moaned as he grasped his thick cock, stroking lightly as he spread the precum dripping from his tip. "I want you to beg." He said, keeping eye contact as he kept up his motions. "Tell me how much you want me." I gulped and licked my lips, before saying, "I want your cock in me, Sangwoo. I want you to make me scream." I could've sworn I heard him growl as he quickly positioned himself.

"Oh fuck!" I yelled out as he entered me suddenly, a hand gripping my hip as the other was placed above my stomach. "Relax." He said in a strained voice, the hand on my stomach lowering to have his thumb rub against my clit. I groaned as I tried to relax, eyes closing as I concentrated on the pressure on my clit. "That's good." I could hear him mutter as I slowly relaxed, feeling as his cock slid further and further. I felt as his hips finally met mines, hearing deep groans come out from him. "Good girl." I heard, my eyes fluttering open as I felt some of the pain start to go away. "Such a good girl." His hand on my clit drifted back to my stomach, letting it wander around my chest. "You can move." I said with a nod, getting one in return. I couldn't stop the loud moans that escaped me as he started a quick pace, moving his hips to find my g-spot. His grunts filled my ears along with the slapping sounds of our bodies meeting roughly, adding to the physical pleasure. Moans fell from my lips as my eyebrows contorted in pleasure, the headboard beginning to bang against the wall, sending dull thuds every time he thrust. "You're so- fuck- so tight." He grunted as he moved to grab the ankle of my leg, moving it so my leg rested against his chest. I yelled out his name as the new angle sent his thrust hitting my spot perfectly. "I want you to remember this." His eyes born into mines as he began thrusting roughly, making my back rub against the headboard when he did. "W-When someone calls you -ugh - sweet, I want you to remember how much of a whore you are for me." I trembled slightly at his words, nodding frantically as I gripped onto the tie, trying to grab onto something. "Are you mine?" He groaned, bringing up a hand to lightly wrap around my throat. I nodded, not being able to concentrate enough to make a coherent sentence. "Say it." His voice boomed. "I'm yours, only yours." I whimpered out. He grunted as his hips began snapping at an aggressive pace. It felt like I couldn't think. The overload of sensations was unlike anything else. The roughness of the ties and his grip on my neck sent a pleasurable pain alongside his cock. "Ah- you love taking my cock, huh?." He babbled as he began to get lost in the sensations, too. His face was still stern despite the circumstances, wonderful groans escaping his lightly opened mouth. I nodded, sure that I was going to be bruised from the hand gripping tightly on my hip. Probably in more places, too. Grunting, the hand around my neck fell back to grab my other leg, moving it to mimic the other leg. My legs rutted against him as I threw my head back, hitting it against the headboard by accident. "Be careful." He slowed for a second but resumed quickly. Both of us were too close to care if it hurt or not. "I'm gonna come." I moaned. He felt so good it was unreal. I couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t think about anything else other than the building sensation in me, whimpering as I kept arching my back. "Come around me." He whispered huskily against my ear, attaching his lips on the sweet spot on my neck. Unable to stop, I yelled out his name as I came, my whole body shaking as I felt him quickly move back. I trembled as I felt his thrusts had quickened slightly. I heard a dark chuckle from him as I was slowly coming down from the orgasm, trying to take in deep breaths. "Never had a girl squirt before." He said, causing me to look down in shock. His pelvis and thighs were lightly coated as most of it fell onto the sheets, staining it. "Don't worry about that." He replied, his thrusts becoming sporadic. "Only I can make you do that." He said, grasping my breast as quiet gasps left him. "Only you." I whimpered out. His body shook as I felt him release in me, causing me to groan at the sensation. His mouth stayed open as grunts left him, heavy breaths leaving him as he pulled out from me.

"I didn't know you could do that." He said as he handed me my robe, both of us fixing the bed. "I've done it once before but never during sex." I explained, rubbing my neck nervously as he removed the bedsheet off the bed. He noticed, giving me a warm smile. "You don't have to be embarrassed about it." He replied, rolling it and placing it into the laundry basket. "I know I shouldn't but..." I trailed off. He moved to me, cupping my cheeks and rubbing his thumb against my cheek softly. "It's natural. It happens. Don't do that to yourself, alright?" He said. My chest felt warm as I nodded, him placing a gentle kiss on my lips. "You're mine. You're perfect anyway you are."

[faggotmox]

11. biting, Danny garcia and anyone

@loose-cannon-wrestler

kink prompts || @loose-cannon-wrestler

we're doing Daniel/Bryan (hehe what a ship name) in retaliation for Daniel biting wheeler in the ring during the pure championship rating: mature notes: that mark Daniel left on Wheeler was fucking ridicules. warnings: biting, marking kink, a little uh dubious but consent is eventually given lol, revenge sex (but no sex?), possessive behavior, humiliation kink (it's Danny so)

11. BITING

Daniel can't shake the feeling that he's being...stalked. Not followed. Followed sounded too innocent for the shivers going up and down Daniel's back as he walked through the dark parking lot of the hotel. Maybe it was Wheeler coming to tell him off for interrupting the press conference. No matter, Daniel shrugged his shoulders and walked straight ahead. Just get to the hotel.

The doors wooshed open but the feeling didn't shake as he went inside. The elevator seemed to take forever. While Daniel waited the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. There was a sound at the end of the hallway but when Daniel looked up the door outside was slowly closing and the stairwell door stood propped open. The elevator ding definitely didn't startle Daniel.

Once on his floor Daniel started walking a little quicker. Luckily his room wasn't too far from the elevator. The key card refused to beep the first time, but the second time he tried it flashed green. Daniel sighed in relief.

"What's your hurry, Daniel?"

The voice made said man jump and whirl around on his heels to face Bryan Danielson's smug face half in shadow from the nondescript baseball cap he wore. Daniel almost swung. He should have swung.

"Jesus fucking Christ, man!" Daniel shouted. That seemed to be the wrong thing to do.

Bryan pressed a hand over Daniel's mouth and grabbed his other hand on the door to lead them inside. The shock of the moment wore off and Daniel shoved Bryan away. They were already inside his room with the door closed but at least Daniel shoved him away.

"Calm down, man. No wonder you lost if you're so high strung." Bryan teased, stepping forward to crowd the slightly taller man.

"What the fuck're you doin', man? Get out of my room." Daniel went to shove again but Bryan caught his hands with ease. "The hell, Bryan?"

"You marked Wheeler tonight." Bryan met Daniel's eyes. "Hard to miss that you're acting out when you're that obvious."

"Shut up. I'm not 'acting out'." Daniel's face started to turn red. "I'll beat you, and Yuta. Fuck you."

"Sure are a mouthy thing, Daniel." Bryan pushed until Daniel's hands were pressed against the wall. Palms flat.

"If you want my attention, Daniel, all you have to do is ask. You don't have to go marking what's mine." Bryan winked at the look of disbelief on Daniel's face. "Think I wouldn't notice?"

"I--" Daniel glared and huffed. "So, why're you here? So what if I marked up your little toy."

"Don't." Bryan shook his head a little and Daniel stopped speaking. "You don't have much to say about Wheeler after he beat you tonight with such ease."

"You're a dick." Daniel pushed against the hands. "Man, just do whatever you're gonna do to me so I can get on with my damn night."

"I just thought I'd stop by," Bryan pushed his knee between Daniels' thighs causing the younger man to squirm. "And give you a matching mark. Since you're obviously feeling felt out, Daniel."

"Bryan--" Daniel blinked hard a few times, trying to surface from that...that. Whatever Bryan said.

"I don't have to though." Bryan kept eye contact as he reached up with one hand to brush his thumb over Daniel's cheek. "I only give marks to people who want them." A beat. "You want it though, right, Daniel?"

Daniel dug his teeth into his bottom lip. He couldn't look away from Bryan even if he wanted to. It was hard to breathe under such an intense gaze. Briefly Daniel wondered how Wheeler handled having that look leveled at him all the time. It made Daniels skin crawl, his sides squirm, and every bone in his body aches.

"Y-Yeah." Daniel tried to firm his voice up, tried to act tough and tilt his head to the side. Inviting Bryan to bite him.

Instead of teeth Daniel felt Bryan's hand on his jaw. There was a moment where Daniel didn't know what was going to happen then Bryan gently pushed his head to the other side, choosing the side Daniel didn't present. There still weren't teeth. Bryan's soft lips mapped Daniel's neck out. The hand stayed on Daniel's jaw, Bryan's knee stayed between his thighs, and Daniel realized his hands weren't being held down anymore. For a second he hesitated before reaching out and grabbing two handfuls of Bryan's perfect white t-shirt.

"Hold on tight, Danny." Bryan kissed behind his ear before traveling further down and biting near where Daniel had bit Wheeler.

The pressure of Bryan's teeth made Daniel squirm. He was biting a lot harder than Daniel expected. It felt good. Daniel couldn't help the pathetic moan that tumbled out of his lips as Bryan started to suck on the sore flesh. The hand on Daniel's jaw tightened and Bryan bit down again, just slightly off center from the original spot. Danie's eyes slammed closed and he threw his head back more, another moan was ripped from his lips as Bryan continued to bite the bite over and over. The mark was going to be way worse than what Wheeler got from him.

Once Bryan was satisfied with his work he went back to gently kissing the flesh he had worked his mark into. Daniel felt his chest flutter and tighten. Hips were slowly rolling against Bryan's knee. God damn it, Daniel thought as he realized he was hard as fuck.

"There you go, puppy." Bryan pulled back. Completely back. The knee between Daniel's legs was gone and he whimpered. The hands holding him up leaving almost had him sliding down the wall to the floor. "Wonder how you're going to explain that to your friends."

"Not like--" Daniel glared. "Not like you wrote your name on me, man."

"I could." Bryan winked as he walked towards the doors.

"That's fuckin' it?" Daniel pushed off the wall.

"Yeah. That's fucking it." Bryan stepped through the door. "See you in the ring, Danny."

[deviltoys]

― this is my first time requesting so let's hope i don't fuck this up [lmao].

taking tobio's [who's the pastor's son] virginity and watching him ask for forgiveness for doing something so inappropriate in the church but then you proceed to degrade him. 🙇

— ‘𝘂𝗻𝗵𝗼𝗹𝘆 𝘃𝗼𝘄𝘀.’

tobio kageyama x top!male reader. (wc; ?)

#a/n: stop. this is my favorite request, ever. virginity loss ‘n blasphemy??? hello? too fuckin’ good, been cravin’ a good virgin tobio. thank you fer’ this, it was perfect!

warings. NSFW CONTENT, MINORS DNI, virginity loss, sacrilege, taboo acts, incest, age gap (18-30), pastor!reader, exhibitionism, sex in a church, misusage of the bible, religious speak, little to no prep, dumbification, creampie, degrading, manipulation, corruption, belly bulge, daddy k.

juvenile ministry took up a huge chunk of the church you operated. being the father to tobio kageyama, it was only natural that he was a frequent volunteer for the group of children who'd visit you both to be taught the righteous laws of god.

your boy was so doting with kids, it lay a smile across your lips to see him so devoted as you'd help demonstrate an array of practices to the youth. he was an apprentice of some sort— you two had a closely knit relationship when it came to chruch work.

almost a little too close.

nobody would ever suspect a thing, right? their nurturing pastor and his passionate son; they wouldn't dream of commiting any corrupt acts against the lord they so dearly fawned about.

the children certainly wouldn't know, such mindless followers. that's why during youth hours the two of you would mysteriously ‘disappear’ while everyone else contributed holy related activities to do while father y/n and tobio went to assist the lord.

you had be fighting the urge to take your son aside and tear his tiny body in half right there inside the sacred haven. but poor little tobio was a virgin, nobody would dare attempt to be the one who would strip the priest’s son of his innocence. you and the younger male had only gone as far as sucking on each others lips or caressing one another in sensual ways that would surely be forbidden by the church.

it was unethical practice to do anything under sexual pretense inside the chapel; with your offspring no less. you were already commiting unforgivable acts unbeknownst to your fellow ministers— what was one more? just another sin strewn onto the pile of ones you had been collecting throughout the years.

the line between faith and abandonment finally blurred out when you caught your little kageyama with pants a size to small for his waist. the fabric rode up, perfectly rounding out and drawing scrutiny to his chubby ass. you were well aware of the scandalous gestures he would send your way while he kept his attention on the children. wiggling his ass out every so often was his main form of communicating his intentions.

he was at last ready to make his daddy proud, giving his body to him as though you were christ himself; submitting to you.

all of his coherent brain function was corrupt by you a long time past, the degenerate acts you two would shun from the eye of society had finally caught up to him. he needed the embrace of his dad, his loving, heavenly father that would fill his holes up with the holy spirit.

“tobio, follow me for a second please? i need to speak with you privately for awhile.” a forged grin took reign of your lips, softly signalling for your son as you escorted him through the barren temple halls. after he had finished passing out coloring activities for the group to engross in, he swiftly followed your lead.

“yes father, what is it that-” you barely gave kageyama a warning before slipping your forearms under his thighs, entangling the remainder of his limbs around your lower and upper body. you lifted his smaller from with ease, hot breath tickling the shell of his ear as your tone dropped to a deep whisper.

“are you ready to give your body to our savior, tobio?”

“yes father y/n, yes i am.”

that was all the confirmation you needed to proceed with blessing him. abandoning your clothes at the altar of god, you began to strip the boy attached to your body. steadily yanking down his suit pants, your cock already springing to life as his own came into view.

it was insatiably erect, you forbid your son from even being curious when it came to exploring his hormones. you knew one day keeping him fresh, unexposed to lewd activity would come in handy.

and it did, oh god it did.

his body was sensitive to the touch, you were concerned he was going to cum without you even putting a hand near his bulge. much less before the fun started. it was like caressing a rock, he was so stiff, the tip already dribbling a tiny bit of pre by the time you were able to finish your first stroke to the hilt.

after giving a few more measly flicks to the head of his cock; you guided tobio’s naked body towards the bible you had prepped specifically for this occasion. the oak pulpit stood tall amongst the various rows of seats— at the head of the stand was kageyama; exposed, ass out, and face burried deep inside the open book sprawled out for easy reading.

he could barely squeak out the first few passages as your lube coated fingers spread his cheeks and stretched his virgin hole to a worthy size; able to fit your fat cock.

it burned and ached, the agony of your fingers poking around his walls overthrew any noticable pleasure that may have slipped in unnoticed; it was torture. he thought intimacy was supposed to feel good. he should've listened when you told him it wasn't fun, how it was a crime against god and how he'd be severely punished for doing as such until he was proposed to by the right man.

but you were the right man, at least that's what you would tell him. so why was it so discomforting, so harsh? you weren't purposefully harming him were you? the paranoia was getting to him, it was so overwhelming, the thought of the man he adored so dearly causing him pain. hot, salty tears pricked his eyes, lashes catching any access fluid as they could meanwhile the clear streaks dusted his cheeks with red.

his hole was still barely twitching with anticipation, and would be for awhile; throwing your head back, you painfully fed kageyama’s rim your length. every inch that ventured just as deep as the last forced strained hiccups to seethe from behind his teeth. he was unbearably tight, his guts sucked you in while his walls showed heavy resistance— pushing you in and out of your trembling son.

“fucking hell.. dumb bitch, you’re so tight. ease up, i thought you'd serve me better- maybe i was wrong.”

no no, you were wrong, right? he was great, such an obedient little cocksleeve just for you, all for you. all he ever did was to please you; the man who he chased after for years, claiming he wasn't as nice as he predicted? panick only settle into him more, ruthlessly he began bucking his hips to match your unenthusiastic thrusts. attempting to appease you wasn't an easy feat, but he was so utterly devoted to you that the condition of his vessel meant nothing if it meant you were proud of him.

he attempted to slur out a form of quivering tongue with a few biblical quotes shoved in-between. whatever he was reciting wasn't human, infact you couldn't tell if he was fucked out or just anxious. whatever it was, your words had preformed their purpose; you were far too impatient to fully prepare him for the world of sex. forcing him to mature on the other hand seemed to run it's course— he was the one himself impelling himself onto at the end of the day.

your arms snaked around his tiny waist, hoisting his feet up and off the ground. the entirety of his lower half no longer met with the floor, steamy tears teased eyes while the remainder of his efforts worked into engulfing you whole. the stimulation of being carried off the ground just like that was unimaginable; only to have his pussy pounded mercilessly into the wooden podium.

“ack! ah.. mm. daddy, pl- please i can do better! m’promise, don't hold back- i want to feel every inch of you!” so vulgar, you weren't aware of tobio’s filthy mouth.

angling your hips to perfectly kiss his prostate with every shift in your pace, you plowed repeatedly into the spongy skin until he was no longer babbling on about anything coherent. whatever bible quote he was now listing off was lost within euphoria; his hole was loosening up more and more with each thrust you planted deep inside of his stomach.

he know knew how desperately he craved seeing your cum gush right out of his gaping ass. more than anything in the world.

“hah, what a stupid whore, letting your father fill up your belly like this? no wonder you can't do anything but flatter me.”

“m’not a stupid whore, daddy i promise!”

the way his cunt squelched around you told otherwise, you didn’t let up on the insults; constantly bombarding the male with word after word. his trembling thighs and drool stained expression prompted you to continue the vile humiliation.

“oh-ho yes you are, you're lucky i’m even taking the time to fuck you like this. the lord wouldn't dare touch you, so why should i? you're charity work kageyama, nothing but pity.”

giving his plump rear a deathly tight squeeze, you ramped up the vigor in your movements. aching breaths escape your nose as you send forth more shivers down the length of his spine— as much as he wants to keep you satisfied he can only withstand so much. this is his first time being lost within the rapturous waves of an orgasm. religious words still on the tip of his tongue as your name bounces off the empty church hull.

there's a puddle of semen beneath you at his feet, he's cum far too many times for you to count and he's just now; once again fighting for release. his limp, shaking shaft all swollen as it spurts out the umpteenth load that session.

you swiftly follow behind, using the last bit of strength in your twitching thigh muscles— you sent your hips forward, fully submerging your fat cock down his rectum. he yelps almost violently, but he adores it. the way you use up his spent hole. the amusement in his moans fizzle once he finally comes to his senses, realizing there's no cum sliding down his guts and into his tummy. the expected feeling of warm, sticky fluid staining his intestines was the big prize he was looking forward to.

“don’t you remember, your only use is to please me tobio. and you couldn't even do that, that's why you don't get daddy's cum. understand?” a disappointed glare forms on your face, once he's luckily unable to see.

he implores like you've never heard from anyone before, you've had your fair share of sexual favours under the church’s nose. but the dark haired male in particular was one of a kind, he was begging you for your seed like his life was dependant on whether or not you fufilled his lustful desires. he needed your cum, right there, right now.

even attempting to guide your entirely hard cock right back into his enormous asshole, which you allowed. your composure was iron-willed, you knew you could cum on command if need be. giving into his sinful fantasies, you pistoned yourself balls deep once more— your hands moving his hips for him as he pleaded for the sweet release of your fluids.

“please daddy, m’such a good cum dump! i promise, please just cum inside of me. i need it, i’ll do anything! anything!”

anything indeed, you had just the thing in mind. and you were sure tobio wouldn't refute, how could he? there wasn't any other choice, it was your cum or no cum. simple as that.

[separatist-apologist]

Could you do one where Lucien finds out about what happened on solstice but he and Elian isn’t speaking to him yet? I’m curious to see your take!

Look. I absolutely CANNOT help myself. If I had written that scene (and I am free, SJM), it would have gone down a little like this.

--

--

She doesn’t want him.

Azriel’s words rang through Lucien’s head, over and over on a constant loop, one he didn’t think he’d ever get out. He hadn’t wantedto overhear that whole conversation and, in doing so, was reminded why he never came to this fucking city to start with. He scrubbed a hand down his face, slung his bag over his shoulder, and slipped from his room. Feyre would be disappointed he left without saying goodbye but no one else would miss him. He could always make his excuses in a letter when he was far from Velaris.

I’d defeat him easily.

Lucien flinched beneath the weight of such casual violence. Azriel would love Autumn Court, if that was his first thought when it came to a blood duel. Lucien had no intention of calling one, not for Elain. He barely knew her and yet Lucien didn’t think she’d find the whole, bloody mess endearing.

He certainly had no intention of dying over a female that seemed to loathe his existence. He closed his eyes for a moment, willing Azriel’s voice to remove itself.

He doesn’t deserve her.

What would Lucien know about that, he thought miserably, his feet touching the first-floor landing. It wasn’t like he’d asked for her. If he’d it his way, the cauldron would given Elain to Azriel and the spymaster could spend eternity bound to a female that wanted nothing to do with their kind. He might have found it funny, the notion that Azriel thought she’d fall into his arms when Elain had made it abundantly clear she hated the mating bond.

Maybe he’d have a shot, then. Lucien stepped past the drawing room they’d exchanged gifts in when he caught a flash of that honey-colored hair all the Archeron’s shared. Feyre was up. Well fuck. He’d never be forgiven if he snuck right past her. He sighed and turned.

“Knock, knock,” he said before looking in. “Feyre, I thought I’d…” His words died in his throat when Elain looked back, her hands wrapped around her throat. “Never mind.” He wasn’t touching the red eyes and blotchy skin of the softly crying Elain with a ten-foot pole. He turned on his heel when something physically stopped him.

The fucking mating bond snarled in his chest, a physical beast that demanded he care for his mate. Fuck me, he thought furiously, keeping himself exactly where he was. He turned again, wary of the female that had caused so much drama. He wondered if she knew. Elain’s hands were still wrapped around her neck as a set of fresh tears slid down her cheeks.

“Are you alright?” He asked, every inch of him rebelling at the thought of comforting her through the rejection of another male.

Elain’s whole body seemed to tremble while Lucien warred with the bond, demanding it let him leave.

She doesn’t want him.

Lucien sighed and offered her a mocking bow while even the mating bond conceded. He turned for the third time, reshouldering his bag, and stepped out of the drawing room. Ten steps and he’d be at the door.

“Wait!” She called. Lucien’s whole body went taut as he closed his eyes and tilted his head towards the sky.

Have I displeased you? He silently asked the mother, walking back to the drawing room. He knew she could tell he did not want to be there, that he’d been trying to make his escape judging by the expression on her face. Was she planning to torture him a little, on her way out?

“Can you help me?” She asked, removing her hands from her throat. A red rosebud hung from her pale throat on a silver chain, and it was clear she’d been trying to remove it when he walked in on her.

Lucien dropped his bag to the floor and walked to her, her scent a punch to the gut. Honey and jasmine and something warm, like a breeze over a sunlit sky. All of that was mingled with fear and the better part of him wanted to tell her no and demand she tell him why she was so scared. He didn’t. What good was upsetting an already crying female?

She swept thick, honey-colored curls over one shoulder and it was Lucien’s turn to tremble, his stomach bottoming out. Had he ever touched her? He couldn’t remember a time. He reached for the tiny clasp, his fingers brushing over the nape of her neck. He swallowed hard as the chain was freed, sliding away into her waiting hands.

“Thank you,” she murmured as Lucien immediately put distance between them. His entire body was too aware of her and though he was angry, he didn’t know that he could stop himself from touching her again if he remained close. He wanted to guard her, to put his body in front of hers and snap and snarl until every male in Prythian was aware that she was his mate.

He reached for his bag. “Are you leaving?” She asked again and it occurred to Lucien she had asked him two questions and he had said nothing in response. He flexed his jaw, his back turned to her, and slid the strap of the bag back over his shoulder.

“I am,” he replied carefully. Elain wiped her cheeks with the palm of her hand and Lucien thought she was still so heartbreakingly beautiful, despite her hurt. Elain nodded, looking down at her feet and he wondered if he ought to just say goodbye.

“Will you be back?” She asked, her words nearly a whisper.

“Would you like me to return?” He asked, emphasizing her part heavily. Their eyes met again and Elain hesitated.

No.

He turned then, his anger cascading over him, intending to leave her in the drawing room. She didn’t owe him anything but neither did he. At least he was trying. If she didn’t want him around, he didn’t need to come any more than was necessary and he certainly didn’t need to see her.

“Lucien!” Elain breathed from behind him. He stopped again, cursing himself and the tether that bound them. “Lucien I didn’t…I uh…”

“I get it,” he said, his words clipped, turning to face her again. He shoved down his instincts demanding he treat her with care. Maybe someone should tell her to get fucked, even once instead of the constant handholding she was subjected to. “I’m the wrong male. That’s fine, Elain. I don’t want to be in your way.”

His hand reached for the doorknob when she surged forward, her brown eyes still sparkling with tears. “What does that mean?” She demanded.

He laughed dryly. “I guess you didn’t hear the little reprimand the High Lord gave Azriel regarding you?”

Her face paled.

“Don’t let me get in the way of true love,” he commented sarcastically. “I wish you and the bat nothing but the best.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not in love with him,” she half-whispers.

“You understand that’s worse, right?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. She looked him up and down.

“I don’t belong to you,” she began but Lucien rolled his eyes.

“When did I ever say you did?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. “You’ve made a lot of assumptions about someone you don’t even know.”

“Would you even be here if it weren’t for this?” Elain asked in return, one finger gesturing between their bodies.

“Would Feyre?” He snapped back. Elain hesitated and Lucien could see she hadn’t considered that. Something sparked in her gaze and Lucien waited to see if she was going to soften.

“I don’t owe you anything.”

“Great,” Lucien replied, yanking on the door handle. “I don’t owe you shit, either.”

He stepped into the cold, strangely pleased when she followed him out.

“What does that mean?” She asked, the door snapping behind her. She immediately wrapped her arms around her body and, cursing himself, Lucien began unbuttoning his jacket.

“Why do you think I ought to stand here trying when you don’t believe you owe me anything?” He demanded even as he handed her the emerald-colored jacket. She snatched it out of his hands and threw it to the ground like a petulant child.

“You wanted this—”

“The hell I did!” He interrupted. “Do you imagine I am having a good time, watching you desperately try to avoid me? Because let me assure you, this is not my idea of fun.”

“Then why do you keep coming around?!”

“Because you haven’t rejected the bond!” He replied, letting some of his desperation leech into his words. “And until you do, I’ll keep coming to Solstice and waiting, my entire life hinging on a choice you seem duty bound to ignore. Have you ever considered, for even a moment of your now immortal life, that you do owe me something?”

“I don’t owe you shit,” she whispered in response, all rebellion. Lucien couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of his throat, causing her to jump. Of all the things he might have imagined, her repeating his own words back to him was not one of them. He shook his head, meaning to turn and winnow away but Elain was watching him and he thought her lips curved upwards just enough to seem as though she were suppressing a smile.

Lucien offered her the same mocking bow he’d once given her sister, bending deeply at the waist, arms thrown out, so she knew it was not courtly in the slightest.

“Enjoy your night, Elain.”

“Lucien!” She snapped, very clearly exasperated. He shivered and it had nothing to do with the cold, which he barely felt. He took a step between them, hooking the lip of his jacket on his boot and tossing it into the air where he caught it and draped it over his arm.

“What?”

Her eyes glanced back at his jacket, arms tightening around her body and for the second time that night, Lucien handed her the jacket. She didn’t budge and he sighed.

“Take the damn jacket, Elain.” “You’re rude,” she accused, snatching it out of his grip. And though Lucien was irritated with her, some of his anger washed away at the sight of her buttoning herself into his jacket.

“Yeah? Well you’re spoiled.”

Real mature.

She paused and then she smiled, as if he’d told her she was beautiful. “No one has ever said that to me before.”

“You’ll forgive me if I’m all out of sonnets.”

She laughed that time. “You’re so mean.”

Lucien hesitated. Did she like it? He took a step towards her and Elain, to her credit, held her ground. All traces of tears were gone, replaced by the open rebellion staring him in the face.

“You like it,” he accused. Elain didn’t deny it. Instead she took the tiniest step towards him, so close Lucien could touch her face. He reached between them, taking a fat curl between his fingers, knuckles brushing over her cheek.

“I’m not a doll,” she murmured, eyes wide as she held her ground. “I can handle it.”

Of that, Lucien didn’t doubt. He knew she felt his agreement, shimmering down their shared connection.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you wanted me to stick around.” “Good thing you know better,” she shot back, all teasing. Lucien, unable to resist testing his luck, dropped his hand and made to turn.

She grabbed his hand and his blood sang at the contact, the instinct to grab her and take her away from this place nearly overwhelming.

“Stay,” she breathed. “Get some sleep…you look terrible.”

He smiled, looking down at her hand clasping his own. “At least we share that commonality.”

Her mouth dropped open, eyes sparkling. “How very cruel of you. Will I see you in the morning?”

“If you’re lucky,” he replied, smirking. All his confidence died the moment she brought his hand to her mouth, pressing a kiss to his palm.

“If you’re lucky, you mean,” she replied, letting go. Elain turned, flouncing back into the house without so much as a glance backwards while Lucien stood beneath the fae lights flickering on Feyre’s porch, hand burning. He tried to figure out what had happened and how they’d gone from crying and yelling to…insults and a kiss.

Still, he did as she asked and came back into the house and walked back to his room…where Feyre waited, a smile playing on her lips.

“Good night?” She asked him, making it plain she’d heard at least part of what went down between him and Elain.

“Shut up,” he replied.

[no-droids]

Just the Translator

Part Ten of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7.6K

Warnings:  There is rough sex in this.  THERE IS ROUGH SEX IN THIS.  Do NOT read if that offends you.  There is also more anal stuff—NO FUCKING (not yet).  Uh, canon-typical violence, grumpy Din Djarin, some fluffy moments, Baby Yoda being a little troublemaker, bit of a cliffhanger ending BUT NOT TO WORRY PALS I ALREADY GOT QUITE A BIT OF THE NEXT PART WRITTEN

A/N: ***Please take a second to visit this googledoc, in it are useful links regarding the BLM protests and what we can do to help. Here is a separate link to where I originally addressed this and shared more thoughts***

***

Whelp.  At least you’re in a good mood. 

In contrast, Din and the kid have been causing problems all morning, the both of them.  Like two… two annoying, middle-aged children competing to see which one is less mature.

The smaller of the two, and older (most likely) is bouncing with energy.  Acting a complete fool.  Ready and willing to launch out of his restricting little sphere at any second, a bright green bundle of energy that slept way too well last night and is just rubbing it in at this point.  He was fine earlier—checking out of the inn, picking up some food at a local market, riding in the Crest as it navigated towards the most isolated sector on this planet—but the hike to this field has been like pulling teeth.

In fact, Din is currently wearing a singular gauntlet on his left hand for that very reason—so this child’s hyper ass could be contained within the hovering, reflective prison.  He’s restless, though, continuing to act out.  At one point you suggest just letting him walk to let some energy out like yesterday, even if he slows the group down with his tiny little legs.  Once you let the little menace out on parole though, he just continues to veer off in his own direction and irritate his dad even further.

And, oh stars—his dad.

Din has barely said a word, only answering with short responses when directly prompted and spending most of his energy just silently stewing inside his own little grumpy teapot on his head.  The helmet is the only other piece of armor he’s donning besides the lone vambrace, and you’re surprised steam hasn’t started whistling through the top of it with how frustrated he is, how many times you’ve seen him curl his hands with impatience. At first it was amusing, though you know better than to tease him about it right now.  You keep your mouth shut and try your best to wrangle the kid, doing everything you can to be helpful while also steering clear of unintentionally exacerbating his silent irritation, knowing Din isn’t in the mood for jokes after being interrupted at a very crucial moment last night.  The sun shines directly on the front of his helmet and blinds you with every single annoyed step, so you follow just far enough behind him and try to use his enormous refrigerator of a body to shield your eyes.

At first it was amusing.  But then the baby catches sight of a gorgeously patterned butterfly floating through the field that he probably wants to snack on for breakfast, and he breaks off from your entourage once more with a quiet little coo that should strike pure terror into the hearts of small animals everywhere.

Immediately you’re turning to go get him—but then a large hand quickly snatches the front of your shirt before you can take a single step, pulling until you’re colliding with an unarmored chest with an oof.  

A bare hand catches your jaw and tightens until you’re staring deep into the thin blade of his visor, before Din whispers rough through the modulator, “As soon as he falls asleep.”

That’s all he says.  And then he’s releasing you and letting you stumble back towards his wayward son a whole lot less amused than you were before, and a whole lot more achy.  The baby shenanigans are far less amusing too.

“You’re killing me here, kiddo,” you breathe after quickly catching up with him, having to bend in half to lead him back towards his impatient dad. 

His hot, moody… incredibly well endowed dad, thick arms crossed tight over his chest as he waits for your return.

The monster’s hand lifts high above him as his three fingers cling to just one of yours, the baggy brown sack exposing his pudgy little green elbow as he follows next to you with a waddle.  It’s slow going, but at some point he decides to pull himself up onto your wrist and you catch him, cradling him in your arms before quickly hurrying back to Din.

Thankfully he begins to calm down a little after that.  As you three eventually find a spot in the endlessly breezy field to settle into, the kid clamors back into his shield while Din carelessly drops the dark bag of supplies he carried from the Crest into the tall grass.  You twist your back to let some of the stiffness out, rotating your arms to encourage more movement as he approaches.

“Same thing as yesterday,” he gruffs when he’s in reach, patting his chest again with a bare hand.  “Hard as you can.”

“My… My hands hurt,” you eventually admit, not wanting to frustrate him even more and hoping you would be able to work on blocking today instead, but Din just nods while you gently brush your thumb along your sore knuckles.

“That’ll happen until it doesn’t,” he tells you quietly, reaching out to touch your elbow in a quick, awkward gesture of comfort and then dropping his arm to his side.  Short, but not unkind.  “Push through.  You can do it.”

You nod, knowing that’s probably the very best motivation you’ll get from him.  His beliefs, condensed down to quick, stunted sentences, presented with such unwavering surety that they must be truths.  Weirdly, it works wonders for you.  Maybe it’s just the person it’s coming from.

You drop into stance and then slam your fist into his chest before he’s ready, and Din steps back on impact with a small grunt while you bite your lip to silence your own noise from the pain reverberating up your arm. 

“Good,” he huffs nonetheless, rubbing the spot on his chest he’s historically designated as target practice.  “Good.  You’re… hitting harder than yesterday.  That’s… fuck.  Good.”

“Good?”  You ask lowly, chancing a quick look over at the kid.  Who blinks directly back at you, wide-eyed and staring purposefully from his crib.  You deflate just a little bit at the sight of him still wide awake, and Din’s fists are clenched by his sides when you turn back to him.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel the pent up tightness in his body as you spend the next couple hours throwing more hits at him, different types.  Left hooks, right hooks, crosses, jabs, elbow strikes, palm heels.  He was absolutely right though—the more you make contact with him, the less you begin to feel the pain, until it eventually feels like nothing at all to you.

But then, at one point, you pull your hardened fist back, aimed and focused directly on that same spot on his chest once more—when suddenly his hand flashes up and he flicks his finger against the lower part of your open ribcage. 

He barely puts any strength into it at all—it’s the pressure you’d use to tap someone on the shoulder if you were trying to get their attention, but for some reason the incredibly well-placed reminder throws you.  A little fucking touch like that shouldn’t hurt nearly as much as it does, but you nearly tip sideways and have to catch your footing with how dizzy it makes you.

“That’s what’s called a liver shot,” Din tells you calmly, watching you wrap your hand around your ribcage and wince at the lingering pain through gritted teeth.  “Keep your arm down like I told you.  That’ll happen every time you wanna get lazy with me, little chicken wing.”

You hiss and shake your head a little bit, trying to clear the fog, and then purposefully tuck both arms tight to your sides.  But then—

His hand flashes up again and taps the side of your face this time—not hard enough to hurt but enough to make you flinch on instinct and take a step back.  “That arm stays up.”

Your quick huff of air is suppressed.  Somewhat censored—it doesn’t duly portray the sharp flare of annoyance you experience.  You do exactly what he says, however, and keep your arms in position in front of you.

But then you jerk back and sputter angrily when the tips of his fingers lightly connect with your cheek once more.  “Stop that!  My hands are up!”

“Then why’d you let me do it?”  He asks, stepping up as you retreat to poke you square in your chest.  “Stop letting me do it.”

He goes to tap your face again, but this time your forearm comes up to swat his away before he can make contact, and he seems pleased for the moment.  Din steps back and hits his chest again.  “Come on.”

He lets you get in just a few more blows before coming at you again.  You smack his hand away and then go to throw another punch, but he’s quick.  He cheats—goes for you twice in a row when you’re not expecting it, and taps the vulnerable spot on your side for the second time today.  It hits you like a bullet and takes you a second to snap out of the abrupt shot of pain.

“Come on,” Din taunts once more, curling his mismatched fingers at you—one hand leathered and the other tan and bare.  He sounds like he’s grinning under the helmet, starting to enjoy this way too fucking much.  It makes your blood boil, makes you just stand there like an idiot for a few seconds and fume at his audacity.

Apparently you take too long getting pissed off at him.  He comes at you first, going for your side again, but you shove his arm out of the way with a growl.  Except his other arm flashes and you react instantly, ducking under the wide, careful swipe aimed for your cheek and then zeroing in on the same exact spot below his ribs he’s been torturing you with all day, the one left wide open while his arm misses its mark.

Except—yours isn’t a tap, or a flick.  It’s a hard uppercut.

Air rushes through the modulator as he groans and stumbles sideways, gasping and trying to steady himself.  Triumph surges through your veins as you watch him, shaking your hand out at your side to quickly encourage the numbness away, your knuckles not yet used to hitting bone.  He clutches his side and shakes the helmet violently in an effort to regain himself, breathing hard through the filter and—

The visor instantly jerks to you and you’re already taking a step back on instinct, adrenaline roaring.  He snaps upright as you continue to retreat—until you trip over yourself and plunge to the grass.

A reflection catches in your peripheral, and you whip your head to the side to see the kid completely passed out in his metallic cradle, eyes closed and mouth drooping a bit.  The sight shoots pure exhilaration through you, but it’s nothing compared to the thrill of only seeing him there for a split second before chrome shields instantly slide shut over his head.

You look back to Din just in time to see him dropping his gloved hand back down to his side and taking quick steps towards you—and you react without thinking.  You scramble over on your hands and knees and then launch forwards before you’re even halfway off the ground, finding your feet as you stumble into a run and hearing footsteps pick up behind you.

Maker, it’s been ages since you’ve run like this.  You don’t even know why you’re running—you just do, it just feels like you should.  Your body barrels through tall grass and your heart thunders faster than the sound of your pumping legs, louder than the wind whipping through your ears.  You don’t know if he purposefully allows you to get this far or if you’re genuinely quick—

—nope.  Nope, you’re not quick, because he suddenly bursts into a sprint behind you and gains way too much ground way too quickly.  You try to break left as soon as you realize what’s happening, but he’s too fast and hooks an arm around your stomach just before you’re out of reach.  Din yanks you back to his chest as he twists around and takes you both to the ground, his shoulder blades slamming down first and softening your landing with his whole body and a grunt, skidding you both to a halt in the endlessly wavy field.

The wind is knocked out of you regardless.  You try and struggle off of him but the positioning makes it almost impossible—your abdominal muscles are no match for the strength of his arms wrapped around your stomach, keeping your body pinned tight to his as you wrestle to lift against him in the grass.

“Fight harder,” Din growls raggedly in your ear, and your pussy seizes with need when you feel how rock hard he is against your ass.  It encourages you—you make a rough sound towards the sky and then lift against him with all your strength, and your elbow comes down hard into his ribcage.  Air whooshes out of him and his arms loosen just slightly.  You’re able to wiggle off him and start crawling away, but then he heaves over and snatches at your pant leg—

Which means you pull them down yourself as you keep clawing yourself forward by your arms, raw excitement coursing through your veins, the fabric pulling tight over your ass and then bunching around your thighs.  You squeal and flounder and kick at him—but Din just grabs at your ankle and then pins your leg to the ground, pushing up and using your calves to clamor on top of you with brute strength, catching your underwear and ripping them down too.  Your heart pounds and your pussy just about floods itself hearing him dig in his pants to pull his cock out, his breath coming heavy through the helmet.

Maker, you’re so fucking ready for it.  You keep struggling just because your body is telling you to, but nothing close to the word ‘stop’ ever leaves your mouth, never even comes to mind.  You feel wetness slicking your inner thighs as Din grunts and plants an arm next to your head, his bare hand shooting out to hover in front of your face.  You flinch—but he keeps it there, palm open in front of your lips in silent expectation.

“Wet or dry,” he snarls when you don’t immediately react.  “I don’t give a shit.”

Still, his hand stays right in front of your face long enough to let you make up your mind.

And… not lick it.

After a moment, Din makes a sound that drops another wave of white hot arousal down through your stomach—a furious, growly noise that resembles distorted static passing through the filter.  He angles his cock against your opening and when you hear him muttering angrily, you think he’s scolding you for it.  Calling you dirty under his breath, promising you you’ll regret saying that in a second.  But no—he’s—

“Perfect.  Perfect little girl, fucking perfect,” Din hisses darkly, pushing into your soaking entrance without anything but your slick to ease his way.  “H-How are you—s-so fuck—ing—”

Oh Maker, you turn your head into the grass and cry out through the delicious, blissful intrusion, pushing your hips back against his—and Din curses as he quickly bottoms out, making sure he lurches fully into you before his hands find out exactly where they want to be.  They land on your lower back and he mounts up, pinning your body hard to the ground with almost his full weight.  It means you can rip out as much grass with your useless arms as you want—he doesn’t even give you a single moment now that he’s successfully rooted you to the crushed greenery.  You bloom for him all the same, as soon as Din pulls out with a wet sound and then starts fucking you strong and steady.

It’s sharp.  Biting.  Even the pleasure has a hard edge to it, completely paralyzing you even if you could struggle in this position.  His hands are pushing down so hard that the ground digs into your tummy and makes his cock angle and slam right into your g-spot each and every time.  You want to moan out your ecstasy but he’s wringing the air from your lungs with every shattering swing of his hips back and forth, quickly speeding up as he goes and taking out a full night’s worth of deprivation on you.

“Ngh.  Take.  Cock.  So.  Fucking.  Good—” Din grits with every mean thrust, the staccato growls of praise getting lost in the echoing, rhythmic clap of his hips.  You can’t fucking breathe—the pleasure is too overwhelming, your face is pressed into the grass, he’s got almost all his weight on you.  You’re helpless to do anything besides close your eyes, furrow your brows, drop your jaw, and just let him own your body in the middle of this beautiful oasis.  The heavy, wild thrusts steal every sense away from you, any ability to think beyond the fractured piece of heaven he’s striking inside you over and over.  You don’t even feel him grabbing your asscheeks and spreading them—

Somebody makes a pitiful, breathless whine—it’s you, you realize.  You make that sound, because worn leather lands right on the entrance he was denied last night and shamelessly breaches it before anything else can interrupt him.

“Tight,” he hisses, slowly sinking his thumb all the way down to the knuckle while you clench your eyes shut and choke out his name, “—f-fucking tight—”

His cock pulses inside you and you bear down as hard as you can on it in return, trying to get accustomed to being penetrated in two places at once.  He doesn’t move his thumb after that—he just keeps it there, deep inside you while he continues wrecking you with the brutal hammering of his hips from behind. 

Still—the impropriety of it starts to burn you up, how… dirty it is.  Getting the life fucked out of you in broad daylight, in the middle of a wide open field, the thickest finger he has buried deep in your ass, helpless to do anything else besides lay here and let him—you feel yourself start to clamp down, steadily getting tighter and tighter around the intrusions while he grits out hard curses and keeps giving it to you through the rapid build.

His name—you start repeating it into the ground like it’s the only thing you’ve ever known.  The word scrapes from your throat over and over, and you try to pull at the grass but your hands are clenched into fists and you can’t seem to remember which muscles to use to open them.

“You like this?”  You’re able to hear him grit from above you.  “Like when I—fuck—when I fuck you l-like this?  When I just.  H-Hold you down and take—” he chokes, “—take what I w-want—”

You can’t respond, but fuck yes, you do.  The kindling spark inside you suddenly flares up and starts to spread through your body like wildfire, tightening, tightening, tightening, but then—

He’s so pent up—Din cums.

Devastatingly early.

The savage thrusts suddenly stutter to a halt and the gasp he takes in sounds like it physically hurts him.  Like the orgasm is just ripped out of him.  His hold turns to steel on you, as if he thinks you can somehow get away right now, and Din cums deep inside your spasming cunt with a shuddering, desperate groan of your name. 

It’s like it drains everything from him—he slumps, just conscious enough to slowly ease his thumb out of your tight asshole, and then he collapses in the grass next to you.  You stay there for just a second and shake next to him, muscles feeling like they’re creaking even while just laying on the ground like this, completely motionless.

“Shit—was that—”  Din pants, turning and scooting over to you to brush your hair out of your face with his bare hand, “was that… okay?  Do you… do you need…?”

You’re still so submissive, still so high on the overwhelming rush of pleasure, your mouth opens and croaks out a response without your permission.  “It was good.”

“Yeah?”  He huffs, dropping back on the grass and trying to catch his breath.  “Good.”

And… it’s true.  It was good, it was absolutely fucking amazing.  So overpowering, such a hard fuck that you almost don’t think about the fact that you didn’t actually cum from it.  The thought doesn’t really even register with you fully, not yet.

Eventually you both push yourselves up, each of you equally lacking in energy, just in different ways.  Din looks like he’s drunk—unbalanced and dizzy while he removes his glove and stuffs it into one of his pockets, before carefully tucking his spent cock back in his trousers.  In contrast, you’re nothing more than another trembling blade of grass in an enormous landscape of them, flimsy and yielding to the powerful, rippling wind as you attempt to adjust your clothing.

It’s fine, you tell yourself on the slow, quiet walk back.  Sex doesn’t always need to end in a fiery orgasm.  Sometimes a rough pounding hits the spot, scratches that itch.  You feel like you’re a newborn blurg trying to balance your oddly proportioned weight on two noodle legs as Din’s hand patiently guides you from your lower back, and a bright flare of arousal arcs through you feeling how gentle his hold is compared to the way his cum is steadily leaking from your throbbing, aching cunt.

You don’t need to cum every single time he fucks you.  It’s fine.

***

Upon returning to the sight of the unbothered, napping kid, you both decide to walk a bit more, and you learn your lesson this time.  The sun glints bright against Din’s left side while traveling in this direction, so you stick purposefully to his right the entire time.

In the meantime, you share easy conversation and attempt to regain some semblance of control over your still slightly… restless body.  Slowly but surely, your feverish arousal for him dims and fades to the backburner, replaced instead by… softer, quieter feelings.  There’s not a solid word for it, not really.  If you were mixing on a palette, you’d start out with a base of gentle contentment and then add a big dollop of affection, diluted with silence until it’s a swirling, pastel… color you don’t have a name for, but cherish all the same.

The baby wakes up about halfway through the afternoon hike, and he’s better now too.  Eventually your ragtag party finds a place to settle for the night—a small clearing in the field at the edge of a thick forest.  There’s a sizable log and boulder situated relatively close together, with a wide open space to make a fire in the center.

Din disappears for a bit to go get some firewood from the looming forest while you entertain the kid; the log is tilted perfectly to allow you both to watch the sunset, and you easily converse with the riveting baby talk as if he’s an absolute genius.

“I’m not so sure about that, honestly,” you tell him diplomatically, receiving nothing but unintelligible babbles in response as he climbs all over you.  “Well, no actually, because there’s two major schools of thought concerning that, the first being—”

He pops up in front of your face to interrupt you heatedly and you scoff, rolling your eyes over the loud gibberish.  “Look, I’d appreciate it if we could tone down the passive-aggressiveness, okay?  If we can’t have a respectful discussi—”

Three green fingers settle over your lips and you gasp at the nerve of him, forced to let him continue to ramble on your lap about absolutely nothing at all, the size of his ego soon growing to match the size of his ears.

“Hear that, shiny?”  You turn your head and ask his father upon his eventual return, and Din grunts distractedly as he dumps the firewood down and rummages around in the bag for a lighter.  Tilting your head back towards the kid, you prompt him with a raised brow.  “Tell him what you just told me.”

The baby bursts into more nonsense, encouraged by your attention, and Din crouches down to set the wood into position in the dusky twilight glow while saying nothing at all, and it somehow manages to pass as listening intently.

It continues to go on like that far longer than you expected it would, the baby apparently having quite the bone to pick about something that’s been on his mind, and one point you have to rest your hand over his mouth so he finally stops babbling.  “Hey, that’s not very nice,” you scold him quietly.  “I’m sure his face is perfectly normal under there.”

The helmet turns just slightly towards you, unamused while you snort at your own joke for a little bit. 

“I didn’t say it,” you remind him after far too long of just celebrating your own hilarity, clearing your throat through the stifled chuckles.  “I’m just translating.”

“Oh yeah?”  He eventually murmurs, beginning to ignite some of the crumpled twigs at the center of the pile, and if you worked at it, you could probably convince yourself he’s sharing your gentle smile.  More muted than yours perhaps, but beautiful and easy on his face, fitting him simply and perfectly.  “What did… What did he say I look like?”

You would’ve shot something ridiculous back at him, something snarky and facetious, but you stop short.  You catch it—underneath his voice, it sounds… timid, almost.  Uncertain.  It makes you take just a second in responding.

“Brown eyes,” you tell him after a moment, and Din doesn’t visibly react, just continues to slowly add small branches to kindle the flame.  It’s so quiet out here, but it’s different from hyperspace quiet.  This quiet is… natural.  Warm, and.  Free.  Fleeting, allowed to roam.  In a way that hyperspace just feels compact, stifling.  “He said you have… brown eyes.  And a… a strong bone structure, striking features.  A sharp, chiseled jaw, dark facial hair.  And, uh.  He also said…”

Din keeps silently feeding the fire until it’s crackling and bright, and then he settles back on his butt next to it, both elbows resting on his knees, not moving the visor towards you but waiting for you to finish regardless. 

The stunning backdrop gives way to a stunning surge of bravery.

“He said you make a bunch of faces under there that nobody ever sees,” you say softly, blinking at Din in the fading twilight while the kid sits silently in your lap.  “That you’re an open book.  Behind a metal wall.  And you have a really nice smile, I bet—he bets… he bets you probably do it more often than anyone realizes.  And your… your hair starts to curl when you let it grow long, and.  And you’re almost guaranteed to be drop dead gorgeous under there, and it’s a real fucking shame that you’ve probably never had anyone tell you it.”

Din tilts his helmet at you, looks at you for a long time—long enough for blood to rush to your cheeks and for you to get fidgety.  But when he finally does respond, his voice is gentle through the modulator.  “He said that.”

You mhm at him quickly, nodding your head and turning away as casually as you can, heart beating incredibly fast for some reason.  “Just the translator.”

A lovely silence soon blankets the both of you, a warmth permeating through to your bones that has nothing to do with the steadily growing fire.

***

A little while later, the kid has retired to his reflective cradle and the dancing flames are the only source of light besides the bright moon hanging directly overhead.  Din sits with his back to the large boulder and digs through the bag, pulling out all sorts of food you picked up before leaving the village this morning and handing them to you.  Something red and unfocused flashes oddly against the curve of his helmet when he reaches his hand back in, but it’s only for a second—he’s already pushing more food at you and filling your arms with bags of dried meats, fresh fruit, and loaves of bread.

“Stars,” you whisper under your breath, examining the feast in the flickering firelight.  “Here, take—take some of this, it’s too much.”

“There’s more in here,” he counters lowly, zipping the bag and dropping it somewhere on the other side of his body.  “The kid hasn’t eaten all day.  Might crawl away and catch himself a Gungan later if you don’t feed him soon.”

“No, I mean—” you let all the food drop into your lap and start sorting the items, “—you need to eat.  What do you want?  There’s plenty.”

“I’m not hungry,” he answers, far too quickly to have actually taken a moment to check.  “Just give me whatever you two don’t eat when you’re finished, I’ll put it back in the bag.”

Okay, if he’s gonna play it like this, you’ll just have to choose for him.  You’ve already dedicated at least two bags of dried meat to the kid, which takes care of him.  So, you take an extended moment to methodically find the ripest fruit in the bunch, the one with the most squish to it, and then search for the softest loaf of bread, not caring that Din is silently watching you.  You gather both of them in your arms and then pluck three bags of meat from the pile, before depositing all of them back into his lap.

“Eat,” you urge quietly, grabbing another portion of food for yourself, heavy on the fruit.  “Don’t inhale it.  Please.”

With that, you grab the kid’s food and then scoop the little guy up from his shield with your free arm, standing and walking to the other side of the fire.  You carefully plop yourself down with your back purposefully to Din, the kid happily finding a place on your lap with his back to you and reaching six little fingers out for the food.

You start eating, and after a moment, you smile around the large bites of fruit at the sound of metal clinking against stone.  The baby, of course, refuses to even open the bag of dried meat you set in front of him, so you roll your eyes and do it yourself, hoping he’ll at least eat like an adult and give you some time to feed yourself.  But no—the fifty year old creep demands to be hand fed, and any other day, you wouldn’t have let him get away with it.

Today, you’re just really fucking.  Happy.

You’re unbelievably happy.  Having spent a few days on this gorgeous planet, your two favorite people in the galaxy with you.  It fills your heart with air.

You start out quiet, praying you aren’t bothering Din as he (hopefully) continues to relax and enjoy his food behind you.  You begin humming your favorite melody under the sound of the crackling flames, the source of heat burning pleasantly against the curve of your lower back, setting another piece of dried meat into the kid’s cute little mouth and only just slightly annoyed that he refuses to do this himself.  Admittedly though, you do love babying him, especially when he shows you his adorable little chompers.

One bite for him, two bites for you.  That’s the deal, even though you’re hungry and you deserve way more than double his food intake rate.  You try to be quiet enough that your gentle humming will get lost with the fire between you and Din, and he never says anything or tells you to cut it out, so you just continue to let your cheerful mood provide a quiet soundtrack to the moonlit evening.

Even better, you and the kid actually finish snacking before he does, and you’re more than willing to wait for him, thrilled that this is actually happening.  It’s so simple, such a throwaway thing, but.  Knowing he used to eat his meals as quick as he can and now he’s comfortable enough to just take a second and enjoy it… you don’t know, there’s something inherently meaningful about it, something that you specifically notice.  Something about this, about sitting around a fire and sharing a meal together for the first time—even with your back turned to him, it just feels… familial.  In a way.  More than it’s ever felt before.

You have a little moment.  It’s nice.  You drop your head back and gaze up at the night sky, in awe of how different the stars look from this side of the galaxy and remembering how far you’ve come.  The kid follows suit, leaning back against your tummy and blinking silently at the universe, the star-speckled sky reflecting in his gigantic dark eyes.

He starts to doze after awhile, listening to you hum softly to yourself, but the noise of a helmet finally lifting from the boulder and most likely fitting itself back in its rightful place snaps him awake just enough.  The kid pushes off you and waddles over to his dad, and you scoot yourself back over to your little log while he unceremoniously clamors up onto Din’s thighs.

Admittedly, it’s really fucking cute.  The visor moves just enough to watch him plop his little green butt down and find a comfy position on his lap, not helping but not preventing the movement either.  A heartwarming, silent kind of tolerance hardened men have for innocent little creatures that makes you bite your lip to hide your smile.  What a softie.

You sit there in companionable quiet, staring deep into the dancing firelight and losing track of time just a bit.  They’re hypnotic, the flames.  Crackling and popping, warming just the forward-facing parts of you and nearly burning your cheeks, but you love it.  Breathing in the woodsy campfire air, hearing the gentle breeze float through the field surrounding you, the quiet forest waving dark and deep in the distance.  The midnight sky stretches long above you and the stars seem… brighter than they were on Arvala-7.  They probably aren’t—that planet is practically abandoned and has almost no light pollution whatsoever compared to Naboo, but… maybe it’s because now they feel… in reach.  Something you can touch.  Interact with.  Something you can cover your eyes, blindly point at, and then say—that one.  That’s where we should go next.

After awhile—you have no idea how long—you blink your gaze over to Din and startle to find the helmet facing you directly, shamelessly, the kid completely passed out on his lap as the flames reflect in the visor.

Without intending to, you’re already thinking back to earlier today.  How quickly he bolted after you, how strong he was bringing you to the ground, pinning you under him and taking what was so rudely denied to him last night.

You didn’t actually finish, and you can still feel it simmering down low.  Din’s cum has been steadily leaking from you all day, and while you eventually became successful at blocking out the sensation, it suddenly slams to the forefront of your mind again.  The visor pierces deep into you while you start to squirm just a bit against the rough log pressed into your back.  You can still feel him when you flex your lower muscles, and you bite your lip and do it repeatedly while blinking at him, waiting, squeezing your thighs together and loving the reminder.

He still hasn’t said anything to you, and you start to get antsy under his stare.  Your body works itself up even more, fueled by the flames reflecting in his helmet.  After a few more moments of silent tension, you’ve finally had enough.

“Din,” you whisper, trying not to make it sound like a whine and his head quickly lifts when you didn’t even realize it was slightly tipped forward.  The helmet rolls back in a drowsy little circle, as if his neck is suddenly remembering the weight burdening it.  Embarrassment instantly floods you.  “Oh.  Shit.  I’m so stupid.  I’m sor—”

Only he’s already pushing himself up with his free arm, lethargic and drunk with exhaustion, not saying a single word as he sets the conked out kid in the cradle and closes the shield over his sleepy little head with the push of a button.

You bite your lip as he drags himself over to you, swinging a leg behind you and then dropping down without any ceremony, firmly inserting himself between the uncomfortable log and your back.  Your butt is shoved forward from the sudden displacement but he’s not done.  Din wraps both his arms around you and pulls, dragging you up onto his long torso while his legs close under you and you’re off the ground completely.

Oh Maker, he’s already thousands of times more comfortable than sleeping up against the log would be.  He makes the best bed in the galaxy, big and warm and firm under you, letting you stretch out long on him.  You lounge on his lap and drop your head to his shoulder, resting your arms on top of his as they drape heavy across your belly.

“Sorry,” he gruffs, voice low and rough through the modulator.  The filter rings sharp through your ear when it’s pressed up against his helmet like this.  “Just need a few hours.  Didn’t… didn't sleep great last night.”

You close your eyes and internally scold yourself, now taking responsibility for his lack of rest for the past two days.  Shit.  You don’t actively respond, feeling slightly put out, but your body is of another mind altogether.  It still continues trundling down the steep slope you shoved it towards earlier, when you stupidly thought he was giving you eyes under the helmet instead of him being passed out cold.  You wiggle against him just slightly under the guise of finding a comfortable position, but it has unintentional consequences.

You breathe out a soft sigh when your hips move over his cock, biting your lip at the sensation but trying so hard to stop it in its tracks.  He’s exhausted, and he already fucked the life out of you today, there’s no way he’ll want to go again this soon.  Except—then he shifts and mmms low in his throat.

“And you,” Din murmurs quietly, reaching a hand down to slowly push under your pants, “need to start being more honest with me.”

“What are you t—oh, stars,” you whisper, your body shuddering as one of his thick fingers slowly dips into your slit.

“Shit, you’re wet,” he groans, sinking his hand down lower to feel remnants of himself still easing its way out of you.  Your lashes flutter as your jaw drops, and his cock gets hard against your spine almost immediately.  “You’re fucking… soaked.  I—I asked if you came and you said yeah,” he whispers low to you, but you shake your head.  “Why’d you lie to me abo—”

“No, no—” you protest breathlessly, “—you asked if it was okay, and then I said—”

“You said it was good.  It’s not good if you didn’t cum,” he grunts quietly, and the tip of his finger now drawing tight circles over your clit makes it damn near impossible to argue.  “I didn’t fuck you right if you didn’t cum.  You should be fucked right.”

“Maker, you fuck me exactly how I need to be fucked,” you whimper, tilting your head until your lips are pressed against the curve of his helmet while his hand steadily works under your pants.  “And—oh, fuck, that’s… h-however you need to fuck me.”

“Fuck—obedient little thing…” he huffs, starting to rub harder over your clit.  “What I need is for you to cum.  From now on, you’ll tell me.  Say yes.”

“Yes,” you moan into the beskar, your eyes fluttering back at the slowly building pressure.

“Say, ‘yes, Din,’” he breathes.

“Yes, Din,” you dutifully repeat, lifting your hips up against his hand, and he groans softly through the modulator.

“Say, ‘Din, I need something to cum on’,” he whispers.

You’re delirious, you don’t even catch it before most of it is already out of your mouth.  “Din, I need something to c—” you cut off but he’s already reaching down between your bodies to ease his cock out, before yanking your pants down your ass just enough to position himself up against your entrance.

He rocks his hips up and he slides in easier than ever before, and you… don’t know what you’re expecting, but he surprises you nonetheless.  He doesn’t start thrusting into you at all.  Even though he’s rock hard inside you, thick and pulsing and breaking you open, he doesn’t move a single inch.  He just keeps himself there, continuing to rub circles around your clit and giving you exactly what he prompted you to ask for.

Something to cum on.

Your body tenses and squeezes him, and Din shushes you before you realize you were making noise.  His free hand comes up to settle tight over your mouth and guide you turn your head away from his helmet.  At first you think it’s because your heavy breathing was probably fogging the visor up, but no—his fingers leave your pussy for a split second and you hear him maneuver himself out of it.  The hollow noise it makes thunking to the ground is beginning to become your favorite sound in this universe.

But then of course, Din buries his face into your neck and starts talking again, whispering low praises behind your ear with that bassy, dark chocolate rasp, and you have to remind yourself to keep breathing.  His fingers return to your cunt to slowly rub your clit and his cock throbs hotter than sin inside you, building your pleasure into a strong, slow crescendo.

You start to whimper unintentionally, but his hand is wrapped tight around your mouth, muting and confining the desperate sounds to your throat.  His finger presses down harder on your clit and his cock flexes inside you.

“That’s it, sw—sweet girl,” Din mutters, his voice interrupted by his own staccato breaths and tight gasps the longer he talks you through it, the longer he keeps himself perfectly still while engulfed in your drenched, fluttering cunt.  “That’s—that’s it, I can feel it c-coming.  Fuck—make it good for me, give me a good one—”

His words shove you right over a cliff you didn’t even realize was there until you were dangling over the steep drop for an extended moment like a cartoon.  Everything squeezes around him unbearably tight—your hands dig into his forearms, your back arches up against him, your pussy constricts his thick cock until you feel like you’re hurting the both of you with it, and Din’s breath catches next to your ear while you’re both suspended in thin air for a split second—

—before you’re convulsing in pure bliss, flooding his cock with cum while he rasps out, “good girl,” into the crook of your neck and rocks his hips up into yours.  The few heavenly inches of movement hits something jaw-dropping inside you and nearly makes you scream against his palm, launching your body even higher into mind-bending rapture.  Fucking Maker, you cum hard for him, on him, around him.  You downright drown his cock in your pleasure, suffocate it and work out the aching tightness in your pussy all over him until you feel like you can’t breathe anymore.

“Mmm…” Din murmurs quietly, continuing to circle your swollen clit hard through the shattering aftershocks.  His voice is deep and sinful and vibrates your whole back with its frequency, but something underneath it also sounds as if he’s considering, before he seems to land on an answer to a wordless question he just asked himself.  “…One more.”

And, like the fucking Maker himself commanded it, another blazing hot wave of fire suddenly rips you apart and sends you spasming rhythmically around the throbbing cock buried inside you once again.  This one wrings you completely dry, robbing you of every sense.  The ragged whine you make behind his hand must be too loud—his fingers quickly tighten around your jaw and lock down, keeping you as still as possible while you give him everything you have to give.

Eventually the sparks die out and you’re left a shell of what you once were, clamping down hard on him and shuddering your bliss at the night sky.  He lays there silently under you, holding you as you fall back down to reality.  Your breathing is a mess and so is everything below your waist, and your whole body jerks when Din carefully slides his hand from your pussy and rubs gently over your thighs, your tummy, your chest.

“That was…” you croak out, trying to remember how to speak, “ … g-good.”

“Go to sleep,” he whispers, pressing soft kisses against the side of your neck.  You can hear the gentle grin he’s hiding from you, knowing he completely incapacitated you.

“But what about—” you start to protest, when Din’s teeth sink into your flesh and your pussy seizes up tight around him, making him choke a hoarse little groan into your skin.

After a moment, he eases his throbbing cock out of you, and he resets your clothing while you whimper in distress.  “Go to sleep,” Din murmurs, before softly kissing your neck once more, and your eyes slowly droop against your will.  Fuck, his body beats a king size mattress any day of the week.  “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

***

He…

He isn’t.

[yesimwriting]

The Promise of Rain, Blurb 3

Technically the third in a blurb-ish series (though this is kinda long for a blurb lol) but can technically be read as a stand alone, but i think the other parts make this seem more significant lol

A/n kinda angsty, not sure if i loveeee this but i haven’t posted a fic in such a long time bc of graduation chaos but now it’s summer and i’m working on a lot of requests/stories :))

Summary: jealousy is out of place when there’s no real warrant for it, and sometimes it’s okay to be content--to not need the rain to make you promises. 

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x sunshine-y! reader

--

Tiredness dulls the part of me that craves the rambunctious, but I’m still positive. I smile when someone does something only the truly inebriated find comical. I laugh when something somewhat actually funny happens, and I let the world around me drink. Twenty minutes--in twenty minutes I will claim a headache and go upstairs. 

“You okay, y/n?” Jesper’s concern would border on genuinely considerate if it wasn’t for the slightest hint of slur in his words. Nights in which he consols himself after losing game after game are when he’s the friendliest. “You’re strangely quiet--you’re never quiet.” 

I press my lips together oddly, smiling in a way that finally reaches my eyes. Jesper’s nice in an oddly particular way when he’s tipsy. Overly observant and careful. “Just a little tired,” I shift in my seat, leaning back against the plush seat in Kaz’s office, “I wish Kaz would just get here and dismiss us so I can go to bed.” 

Jesper smiles, lifting his arm slightly and causing his glass to sway. Kaz is not going to take it well when he realizes that Jesper was extremely involved in the downstairs celebration. He turns ungracefully, moving to sit next to me with no warning. I half-heartedly glare as he takes up most of the small couch. 

“You’re grumpy when you’re tired,” Jesper hums, stretching his casually. 

I sigh once, but it lacks any bite. “I do not.” 

He smiles easily, tilting his head so far to the side that it falls against the back of the seat, “No...but I know the real reason you’re grumpy.” 

Rolling my eyes, I suppress my instinctual reaction. That would only expose his words as true. “I am not grumpy, there is no reason--” 

“You know he hated it.” 

I exhale, tired and slowly losing my fragine hold on fake tranquility. “Yeah.” That should make it  better. “I know.” It doesn’t--it doesn’t make anything better. 

So the contact we so desperately needed on our side took to flirting with Kaz. It was an uncomfortable situation because of its precariousness and I was worried because I know about his issues with touch. But it’s not like I care about the flirting part. No. It was unprofessional and so easily turned messy--that’s what my problem was.

Jesper sighs, stretching even more. I let him stretch his legs over me, too tired to push him off. I sigh, setting my chin on his bent knees. “What’s with the face, l/n?” 

I roll my eyes again. Sometimes having someone care about you is annoying. I take back all of my positive thoughts about him--Jesper Fahey is an annoying drunk. 

“There’s no face,” despite my words, I feel my expression sour even further. Jesper’s expression shifts from that of gentle worry to teasing pride. “And if there was one, it wouldn’t be because of Kaz Brekker.”

Jesper’s lips twitch upwards, something strange tainting his tipsy grin. “I never said a name.” 

“One more condescending comment, and I’m shoving you off this damn couch.” 

He laughs flatly, shifting closer and making himself more comfortable. Drunk and touchy--anyone else would have been slapped by now. “You’re nicer after some of this.” 

He holds his glass out towards me casually, amber liquid sloshing slightly. I blink at the liquid with slight disinterest. I’m not exactly in the drinking mood...but I’m not exactly in the mood for any of this. The sound of the door opening doesn’t phase me--it’s not Inej, because she never lets herself be heard. Kaz doesn’t say anything, taking one dull step and then another, footsteps leaching the room of any warmth. The coldness he exudes so easily as a mask is strong tonight, I haven’t even looked at him and I can feel it. 

Maybe I do need a drink. 

I take the glass from Jesper, taking a quick and shallow sip of the liquid. It’s offensive in smell, taste, and the way it spills down my throat. The taste is much more intense than expected, some of the liquid slips past the corner of my mouth. Somehow more bitter than this moment, the liquid leaves me ready to splutter like a child. I exhale, pushing through the burning. Jesper moves his hand forward absentmindedly, wiping a single drop of liquid from my chin carelessly. The gesture would be sweet if my throat burned less. 

“Jesper,” the warmth of the alcohol takes root in my chest, “That’s--” He laughs at my reaction, coaxing a smile from me. “Like literally the worst--why do you even have this?” If this is served in the Crow Club, I’ve never heard of it, this is the kind of under the counter alcohol that isn’t mass produced. 

He laughs a little more freely. “Won it off of someone passing through--I don’t always lose.” 

I wrinkle my nose, “An outlier shouldn’t be--” 

“Oh, shut up.” Jesper laughs again. 

“Both of you ‘shut up’,” Kaz sighs, stepping further into the room, “If you need to drink, at least wait until after my meeting.” I frown, ignoring Kaz’s lingering and sharp gaze, “You should all follow Inej’s example.” 

“We can’t even see Inej.” 

Kaz raises an eyebrow, but he regards me with nothing but voidness. He’s never exactly emotive, but normally in moments like this something I can never interpret touches his expression, coloring it human. “Exactly.” 

“You’re funnier than people give you credit for.” The comment isn’t exactly sarcastic, but it’s something lighter than I should be offering. It’s an attempt at peace, the slight stiffness between us is starting to bother me. Our usual dynamic isn’t exactly friendly, but it’s more than this. Kaz glares. “But not tonight.” 

His expression hardens. “Business is business. It’s not humor, it’s not whatever you try to make it.” Right. Just like it was business when that girl spent more time hitting on him than actually revealing real information. The thought leaves my expression tight as I swallow back my instinctual words. “It’s not whatever you’re currently doing.” 

It takes me longer than it should to realize he’s referring to the position Jesper and I are in. Can he relax? It’s not my fault Jesper is tipsy and touchy. 

“Kaz,” Inej’s voice is soft yet determined as she emerges from the shadows. It’s a miracle the way she’s nothing more than a shadow until she chooses not to be. “What’s our next job?” 

Prompting Kaz in order to prevent a fight--Inej, always the closest thing to a mom available. I give her a partial smile, glad that she’s wedging herself between us and the tension, preventing conflict I’m too tired to follow through on.

“A merchant’s house,” he begins slowly, “We’ll be searching a merchant’s house but I’m seeking evidence more than property.” Jesper swings his legs off the couch with no warning. My head falls. I glare at Jesper who offers me a slightly apologetic tsk before dropping his head on my shoulder. Kaz must note the exchange because something in his expression tightens. He’s extra irritable today. “I’ll disclose more tomorrow,” he sighs once, already turning away, “Most of you are beyond listening tonight anyways.” 

He’s at the door before I can tell him that I’m not drunk. The door opens and closes, but Kaz’s heaviness lingers like led. I frown, letting my head fall to the side, resting on Jesper’s.

“He’s weird today,” I mumble, unsure if I want a reply. 

“He’s always like that,” Jesper breathes, “You’re losing your novelty, y/n--he always learns to harden himself against anything bright.” 

The words leave me even more tired. “I don’t think I’m particularly bright.” 

“Kaz does,” Inej replies, “And it has nothing to do with ‘novelty’, Jesper’s just cynical when he drinks.” I don’t know if I believe her, but I like knowing that Inej thinks that. “And Kaz can’t harden himself against you, and he hates that.” 

I press my lips together, straightening my spine. “I’m not that great, and whatever Kaz does or doesn’t harden himself against doesn’t affect me at all.” My nails press into the plush seat. “I don’t even know why we’re talking about this because whatever he does or doesn’t feel doesn’t matter to me.” I force myself up, doing all I can to seem perfectly calm. “All I care about is going to bed.”

Turning my head, I start to approach the door. Kaz has been strangely cold all night, and while I’m used to his moods, he hasn’t exactly directed them at me so fully since the day he caught me waiting for him to wake up after he almost died. If he wants to go back to how it used to be, then it can. Maybe I’ll care in the morning, when the growing weight of my eyelids is no longer a distraction.

“Sometimes the two of you confuse me,” Inej begins, “And sometimes I see you try to deal with emotion and I see the common ground.” 

The words leave me cold. I don’t think being compared to Kaz is an insult, not when there’s so much it could mean. He’s much more complex than he wants to be. There is goodness within him, gilding the parts of him that are more shards than anything else.  

I exhale, refusing to turn. Inej is too observant for her own good. “There is no emotion.” 

“I’m not going to waste my time arguing over that because I know it’s a waste of time.” She pauses and I consider turning around in hopes of reading something less honest from her expression. “I’m just telling you as a friend that one of you needs to be mature and talk to the other tonight before the tension gets worse and that it’s not going to be him.” 

She’s right. I exhale, “Do you think I should let him go?” Even just saying that leaves my heart aching. I know instantly that that’s not what I want, but it might be what he wants--it might be the best option. I might have the strength to let him go if I work at it. “I don’t--that’s not what I want and I’m not sure I could, but maybe that’s selfish of me.” 

“Y/n.” I turn slowly, but I purposefully avoid her gaze, keeping my head down. “I know that I’ve known Kaz longer than you, and I know that when he’s getting along with you he’s,” she trails off, uncertain, “More him, in a good way.” 

My heart swells, and with that comes feelings of panic. I never wanted to change him--to make him better or worse or anything; all I’ve ever wanted is to know him and to maybe help him with his burden. And to hear that maybe I’ve done that from someone so close to him--someone so observant and aware. That’s everything. And that terrifies me. Nothing good can last; nothing that seems to be all you could ever want actually is. I know that from life before the Crows, before I ran away from the castle I called home.

“I think he does the same for you.” I’ve never really thought about Kaz’s effect on me outside of the fact that he makes me feel warm in small moments and painfully seen in large ones. 

I smile because she’s trying and she’s given me something. “I’d say I’d tell you when I make my decision, but something tells me you’ll know.” 

She nods, expression shifting to something kind. “Goodnight, y/n.” 

Jesper stretches out on the couch, settling himself comfortably, “Night, y/n.”

“Goodnight, guys.” I disappear past the door easily, heading towards my room.

I haven’t decided whether or not I’m going to look for Kaz tonight. How much damage could be done in one night? Maybe he needs space. Maybe seeking him out now will make things worse. I exhale, opening the door to my room easily. I’ll decide before going to sleep.

When I step into the room, everything is in place. Everything is fine--but something about it feels off. The light is on. I didn’t leave the light on. Nothing else raises any red flags, so I continue into the room calmly, examining everything carefully. Nothing feels out of place as I further enter the room. I take in my bed, my dresser, and lastly my nightstand. 

My heart swells all over again, but this time it feels even heavier than before. On the center of my nightstand, in perfect condition, is a copy of Pride and Prejudice. The same book I told Kaz about, the one thing besides clothing I took from the palace. I told him it was my mother’s favorite and then he asked me to read it to him. 

I can’t picture him seeing this and thinking of me. I can’t picture him thinking of me--but no one else knew about my attachment to the book. I need to find him. I need to--to see him, to speak to him. To look him in the eye and see something I only ever see when we’re alone. Maybe he won’t have that look this time, but that’s okay. 

I can’t expect to always understand him, but that does not mean I don’t know him. 

The thought leaves me feeling a little more settled within the boundaries of my skin, but I don’t ease entirely. The good is more frightening than the bad. My fear of happiness is a benign secret I haven’t had to worry about in years. I don’t know enough about it to know how to deal with it let alone mention it to Kaz. Not that it’s his problem. 

I squeeze the book to my stomach. Swallowing pride is a difficult thing, but I’m used to it with him. It’s usually worth it with Kaz because sometimes when I try he tries in his own way. I should find him. He’s not awfully creative about where he goes when he wants to be alone because people know better than to bother him. Kaz is probably in his attic or getting air outside or…

The lights were on when I came in. I’m an idiot. I didn’t feel weird when I walked into the room because of the book. Someone’s in here. He’s in here. 

Setting the book down like I should have never touched it, I let out a sigh. “Lurking is unbecoming.” 

“It’s also unbecoming to work for me and be so easily distracted by a book.” His voice reveals nothing as he emerges from the shadows. “I could have killed you with how long it took for you to notice my presence.” He pauses, eyebrows drawing together. “The light was on.” 

Normally I’d have some kind of comment, some kind of joke that offers a more peaceful situation. “I know.” It’s a flat response. “I think on some subconscious level I knew,” I drop my gaze away from him, “I knew I was okay.” That sounds dumb. “I mean...I think I knew it was you so I knew I was okay.” Yeah, that wasn’t anymore eloquent. “That doesn’t make sense, but if you get to be confusing, I do too.”

“Confusing? There’s nothing to understand.” Curt. Simple. Dismissive. 

I frown. ‘Nothing to understand’. Right, because there’s nothing confusing about how quickly he decided to dismiss me just to bring me some obscenely sentimental gift. “If you’re mad at me, you should at least tell me why.” I press my lips together. “At least that way I’ll know if I need to apologize or kick your ass.” 

At that, he presses his lips together, corner of his mouth threatening to tilt upwards. “You would kick my ass?”

Great, even when he’s easing he has to be annoying. “I could.” There is no universe in which I could take him in a physical fight. “On a good day.” I let out a breath, doing all I can to not focus on his expression. Awkwardness settles in my chest as my eyes land on my bed. I sit down, trying not to let my shoulders slump tiredly as I stretch my legs across my bed. “You’re not having a good day.” 

“My day is fine, I’m just not naively cheerful like you,” his words turn sharp, “Or Jesper.” 

Weird addition. “Jesper’s not cheerful, he’s just drunk.” I let go of the ‘naive’ part, deciding to focus on the bigger picture. “And I’m not as naive or joyful as you think I am.” I’m not sure if I mean that as a rebuttal or just a fact. “I have bad days too.” This isn’t the kind of conversation I should have while this tired. “I could be less cheerful if you’d like.” 

He’s so silent I momentarily wonder if he’s left. “No.” It’s not much, but I take it. Straightening my back, I pull my legs beneath me, intentionally creating space. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Ah, blatant rejection. It would sting if I was less in the right. “Maybe you’ll be less weird then.” 

“I am not being weird.” At least I’m getting some kind of reaction from him. “You’re the one who--” 

“Who what?” Finally--progress. 

Kaz sighs, turning slightly. “You’re the one who decided to ignore me after we met with the contact.” I part my lips, ready to retort, but no words come. He did pick up on my slight annoyance, and he reciprocated it in a much larger way. 

He can never know that this all came from some ridiculous, territorial--partial jealousy. “I didn’t mean to ignore you,” partial lie, “I’m just kind of in a weird place today, I’m tired.” 

“Not too tired for Jesper, it seems.” 

What? Is that what this is about? “What? All I did was sit there--he’s a touchy drunk and I just happened to be next to him.” 

“You laugh with him,” he says this blankly, “You can touch him.” 

The edge of unsafe territory cuts into me at an odd angle. Is this about him? Is he really tormenting himself over something so asinine to me when it comes to him? I’d rather have him than all the physical touch in the world. The book on the nightstand feels closer to me, growing by the prospect of its significance alone. That gesture, that’s more intimate than anything Jesper and I did downstairs. 

“So?” I straighten my back slightly. “It doesn’t mean anything.” 

He presses his lips together. “That’s the problem--anyone can manage meaningless contact…” The silence is louder than the words that came before it. Oh. I guess I’m not the only one who gets just a little jealous in an unwarranted way. “What if you were hurt? What if you were hurt and we were alone and you needed someone to help you and I couldn’t?” He lets out a sigh, a sound too tired for me to associate with him. “You say you don’t care now, but you’ll grow tired of it--the only life I can offer.” 

Inej’s words about the similarities between Kaz and I echo in my mind. “Sometimes I don’t like when things are going well because I don’t know how to be truly content, fully happy.” Saying this twists my stomach. “I don’t know how to trust good things, so whenever there are good things I think about all the ways I could ruin something and then I do.” I take a breath. “I’m not saying that things are particularly good for you or that you’re happy, but I am saying that maybe you shouldn’t think three steps ahead when there’s nothing to think ahead about.” I regard his expression carefully, but nothing has changed. “I told you the only thing I want is to know you, and that’s not going to change.”

“Y/n,” his voice is low, “I am not rain--I can’t promise you anything.” 

I scratch my knee, dropping my gaze. “For once I don’t want rain.” 

Kaz sighs. “Get some sleep.” Something about the way he’s speaking is authoritative but it lacks any weight. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

I frown freely, “Kaz--” 

“You look tired,” he mumbles, “You need rest.” He’s using this as an excuse to escape his feelings, but he’s already given me more than I expected. Greed ruins things, but then again, so does selflessness. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“For the job?”

Something strange crosses his features as his expression teeters on shifting. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he repeats, a little more certain.

The response doesn’t satiate me. “Kaz--” 

“I may not be the rain, but I’m capable of making promises as well.” There’s something final about the way he says this, but it doesn’t feel cruel. 

Maybe I’d protest if my eyelids were less weighted. “Goodnight, Kaz.” 

My head falls against the pillow. I’m not sure if he replies, too lost in the drawl of sleep before he can even close the door. 

--

General taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper, @grishaverse7 @benbarnes-supremacy  @tranquilitymoon @kaitlyn2907 @lunamyangel @christinawxxx @deceivedeer @real-mbappe @tonks33

[tteokdoroki]

hello! if you’re still doing these could i please request 7 with Bakugou?

if you’re not taking them pls delete !! 💕

katsuki bakugou x gn!reader.

tteokdoroki teaparty event masterpost!!

♡ prompt #7  —  reader has a secret admirer, character of choice doesn’t know how to confess.

♡ genre: everyone, fluff + slight angst.

♡ word count: 1.8K

♡ warnings: cursiing!

♡ author’s notes: thank you for requestiing my lovely !!

yet again, warmth spreads underneath your skin and across your chest at the sight of the chocolates displayed cutely across your desk. for the last week or so, you’d received a flurry of gifts from an unknown admirer— each attached to a sweet note, written with such deep feelings that every time you read one your heart thumped loudly in your chest.  

“let me guess, another one?” mina swoons from your right, joining you in the empty classroom for the day ahead. pink hair tickles at the junction between your head and your shoulder as she reaches for the box of sweets in your grip— you don’t bother putting up a fight, knowing she’d take it from you anyway. “that’s like the third time this week, yn.”

bowing your head shyly, you run your fingers over the small note that lays unfolded on your desk. ‘for you, i’d do anything.’ it reads and you wonder for the umpteenth time; you out of all of classmates is capable of writing such a thing. “i know, i really wish i knew who’s sending them— no ones ever quite done something like this for me before.” you voice is quiet and hopeful, a contrast to the bustling energetic babbles that come from your third year classmates as they filter in for the day ahead. you scan them all to look for a possible source, knowing that your heart could belong to anyone of them.

“it’s gotta be deku!” kaminari cuts through your train of thought like a knife through butter— throwing his arm around your shoulders as he plucks the box of chocolates from mina’s grip, much to her annoyance. “he’s like the sweetest dude in the class, there’s no way it could be anyone else. we’re not capable of cute shit like that.” you roll your eyes and allow your friend to tear open the box for a morning treat but let your gaze slip over to where izuku chats animatedly with ochako. not him.

jirou is next to speak, ripping the box from the blonde to take it to her desk beside yours. kaminari whines as the girl divides up the sweet snacks for, taking one for both herself and mina. chaos is ensuing and yet again, your friends are the centre of it. “nah, my bet’s on sato...how else would yn be getting so many sweet treats every day?”

the group falls silent, mulling over the choice as you finally take a seat and swipe one of the chocolates for yourself. popping it into your mouth, you huff in frustration.

“doesn’t make sense, everything gifted to me so far has been insanely exclusive or expensive...some are even my favourites from abroad and— i don’t speak to sato enough for him to know them...“ you admit, pawing your cheeks with embarrassment.

“maybe it’s kirishima then! you guys are always together and he kinda seems like the romantic type..?” your pink haired friend suggests and the more you think about it, the more it makes sense. it was true, you were both always together— even if it was in the presence of others like bakugou and kaminari— and had more than enough in common, from music tastes to gaming. you could see the hardening hero as someone you’d go for as well, eijirou was an obvious choice. “what do you think, bakugou?”

you peek up from the note ( neatly folded ) and box of chocolates ( now returned ) that sit on your desk, catching the arrival of your final three friends. bakugou, sero and kirishima himself. you feel body flush with warmth as you catch the latter’s ruby eyed gaze and give him a small wave accompanied by a smile; that kirishima quickly returns.  

the blonde however, tsks at mina’s question before making his way to his seat. you considered yourself and katsuki to be good friends; it was usually quiet whenever you too were around one another which was a nice change of pace from his usual rowdy personality— but the majority of your time with each other was spent with him teasing you for your quirk.

“‘m callin’ bullshit. whoever this is should hurry up and face how they feel. the candy shit is stupid.” bakugou growls out, throwing his backpack onto the desk; ready to begin class. in all three years of knowing him, he’d never showed any signs of romantic interest towards anyone in your class, especially you. meaning that your admirer, definitely bakugou.

you turn away from him and your group of friends to face the board, ignoring how they scold him for his harsh words. “right, stupid...” you sigh quietly, just as aizawa enters the room.

ever since your brief conversation with the explosive boy himself, bakugou had been increasingly rude to you throughout the day and it was starting to get on your last nerves. at first, it had been subtle— bumping you in the corridors between classes, pretending he didn’t have an extra pen for you when you knew that he carried spares for your friends who often forgot and then he’d straight up ignored your invitation to study during lunch like you usually did.

you figured that the blonde was having a bad day, bakugou was never usually this harsh to you and you could talk it out with him later. this behaviour was something you hadn’t seen from your friend since first year, and you almost believed that something else had been bothering him— until he almost blew you high into the sky during hero training that afternoon. of course you called him out on it, yelling at him in front of the entire class as your frustrations finally bubbled over but bakugou remained straight faced— leading to your current predicament.

aizawa thought it was best for the two of you to work things out over cleaning duties after school— something you thought you’d been well past seeing as you were third years now. mature, grown up third years who knew how to talk about their problems. apparently, katsuki bakugou was not one of them. even while you rearranged chairs and swept under desks, he still managed to crawl under your skin with petty remarks and hums of disapproval.

it’s only when you realised that katsuki had been actively trying to avoid your gaze or rather, your entire presence— that you snapped, dropping the broom you held in your hands and letting it clatter to the floor beside him, ultimately grabbing his attention.

“are you fucking insane—?”

“what the hell is your problem, bakugou?” you slice right through his words, a quiet rage flooding your bloodstream as you glare down at him. the boy himself looks dumbfounded, having never heard you talk to him in such away, before and stops shelving the books he had been holding. “did i do something to you?”

“like I’d let you do anythin’ to piss me off.”

god, he infuriates you. you step closer to the blonde, who stands at least half a head taller than you and shove at his chest as best you can— needing an outlet for your frustrations. “then why have you been acting like an asshole all day? first you blow me off and then you quite literally blow me up, and now? you’re avoiding me?” your fists curl in his untucked shirt, tugging at it as all of your emotions spill out into the space between you. “i don’t know what i did, but it doesn’t mean you get to treat your friend like shit, katsuki. you’ve been so mean to me today!”

bakugou looks away, avoiding your eyes that cloud with a sadness he can’t bare to face. you tell yourself not to cry, hating the way your bottom lip wobbles at his change in attitude. “’m mean to everyone, there’s nothin’ special about you.” he excuses himself, trying to step away from you.

“but not to me, you know that,” your voice shakes, everything you’d held back finally slipping through opened cracks. why was he treating you this way? what had you done to deserve this? you glance up, trying to find his vermillion eyes and the answers that may lie behind them. “you’ve been acting so...so off, since this morning, when mina asked about my admirer. you called it stupid. is it so hard to believe that someone, that kirishima might even like me?” the grip you had on bakugou’s shirt loosens but you remain leaning against him, neither of you daring to breathe. “why should i even care what you think? you’ve never been one for romance...u-unless you count the manga that you read but i don’t know how that would...”

and then your babbling stops, realisation washing over you in heavy waves. bakugou appears visibly tense before you, fist clenching and unclenching by his aides as you process your own train of thought. he hadn’t been mean to you for the sake of it, he had been because he didn’t know how else to express his feelings of jealously. it wasn’t kirishima that had been sending you notes, no— it had been bakugou all along. “how that would relate to me...” you think out loud, feeling him flinch beneath your grip. “k-katsuki...do you have a crush on me?”

“...don’t...” the blonde warns, heat rushing to his cheeks at your very accusation. a smile comes rushing to your cheeks, the familiar warmth finding its way back into your chest. “don’t look at me like that, fucker. i-i’m not good at this emotion shit, you know that and this was easier than talking— yn, stop fucking lookin’ at me like that.”

the almost whine that slips from between katsuki’s lips makes your tummy fill with affectionate butterflies, causing you to finally let go of his poor shirt and throw your arms around him in a tight hug. bakugou hesitates for a moment, trying to decode the situation and decide for himself if this was real— but you decide to do the talking and tell him foot yourself. “can’t help it, not when i feel the same way about you, katsuki.” you knew that no matter who was behind your little gifts and love notes, your heart would belong to your admirer and your admirer alone. with a rush of adrenaline after feeling katsuki return your embrace, you lean up to press a soft lingering kiss to his chapped lips.

he tastes like honey and smoke, feels warm like a soft summer breeze but as your lips love together and speak a thousand unspoken confessions, the pair of you realise that you never want the moment to end. “i meant what i said in that last note,” bakugou hums softly, pressing his forehead to yours and holding you close as if you’re going to disappear or suddenly realise your feelings for him aren’t true. “i’d do anything for you...”

“anything?” for the second time that day, you swoon at the blonde’s words and peck his nose gently.

he nods once, lost in thought before speaking again. “except for buy you those fucking chocolates again. they’re fucking expensive, cost a shitload.”

you snort at that, leaning up to lock lips him again— who needed chocolate when you could kiss katsuki bakugou instead.

[younghosfavewhore]

don’t rush

[s] 

plot; you find out hendery’s a virgin, but he wants to change that. what kind of friend would you be not to take him up on the offer?

pairing; virgin!hendery x semi-experienced fem!reader

prompts; [s]13 “God, you feel amazing.” [s]31 “I want you so bad.” 

warnings; MATURE CONTENT, kinda fluffy, oral (m receiving), fingering, swearing, protected sex

wc; 2.5k

"you're a virgin?" you exclaim in shock. 

"yes, could you be any louder?" hendery replies. 

"sorry, its just... surprising to say the least." 

"how so?"

"you don’t look like a virgin."

"what does a virgin look like?" he chuckles

"i’m not even sure." you laugh. “not as good looking as you. with your looks, you’d think you would have some experience.”

“huh, is that a compliment?” he smiles.

“sure, yea. it’s not like it’s a bad thing to be a virgin i just never really took you for one.” you smile back. “i can’t believe i’m just now finding out; you never thought to tell me this before?”

“never came up.” 

you and hendery had been friends for about 4 years now. of course you had discussed sex before, but never too in-depth; only because there were other things to talk about. it just wasn’t important. but hendery, a virgin? this was probably the most shocking thing he’s ever told you.

“why are you so interested anyways?” he jokes.

“i’m not, it’s just you never thought to tell me!”

“it wasn’t important! and it still isn’t!” he smiles. “plus, if it were that easy, i wouldn’t be a virgin. it’s not like i’m choosing to not have sex.”

“so then what is it? is it something sappy like, ‘you’re waiting for the one’?” you tease him.

“yea, actually. well, something like that. i just want it to be meaningful, y’know? what if the girl only wants me for sex? or ends up telling people? i can’t just go around doing things like that, y/n. i have to be smart about this. it has to be someone i trust.”

you were struck into silence, hendery had rarely talk about his feelings to this extent.

“shit, i didn’t even think about it like that.” you reply. “that makes sense. don’t worry, a guy like you is bound to find the perfect person.”

“honestly... if it’s not too direct,” he starts. “i trust you.”

your eyes widen. “huh?”

“not like- i just mean-”

“you trust me... to have your virginity?” you question.

“yes? i mean, you’re practically the only girl i talk to. and you have experience, right? who else would be a better fit?”

“maybe a future girlfriend?” you joke, though you’re half serious. the pressure of doing something as significant as taking his virginity... was way too much to bear. “you shouldn’t feel obligated-”

“i don’t feel obligated, y/n. honestly, i’ve thought about this before, i hope that doesn’t seem weird, but i have. nothing would have to come of it. it can just be sex, but the difference is that i’m more... fond of you?”

“fond? hendery what are you saying?” you knew what he was trying to say, but you need the clarification.

“i like you? not in an ‘i want a relationship’ way. but, like i said, i just trust you, plus you mean a lot to me anyway. if you don’t want to do it, don’t feel pressured. at all. but, if you’d consider it, that wouldn’t be horrible...” his voice trails off.

“when?”

“what?”

“when would you want to do it?” you look at him.

“is that a yes?” he smiles.

“eh, i still have to think about it. you’re right, it wouldn’t be horrible,” you tease. “now answer the question: when?”

“today?”

“today?” you reply to his question with a question. “exactly how much time have you spent thinking about this?”

“not enough to know what i’m doing, but enough to know that i want to do it.” he chuckles.

the setting became tense. you and hendery were at your house. alone. it was getting dark, meaning it was around 6. your parents weren’t in town, they normally weren’t, it wasn’t a huge deal. but the tension; you and hendery were always touchy and clingy, but now the finger that he’s tracing up your arm had a completely different aura.

“have you ever kissed someone?” you reply, it seemed like a dumb question but you needed to gauge his experience.

“yes, i’m not that much of a virgin.”

you can’t help but laugh at his newfound confidence. "are you good at it?"

"you tell me." without hesitation, he leans in towards you and kisses you.

you freeze for a second and he pulls away. the kiss was all too short, but he wasn't bad. at all.

"should i not have done that?" hendery asks as his eyes scan yours.

you don’t respond, instead, you press your lips back to his.

hendery brings his hand up to your chin, pulling you closer to him and deeper into the kiss. he’s wearing a hoodie and sweats, as usual, but now you could notice a bulge in his pants.

“are you hard?” you ask, breaking the kiss.

“shit, am i?” he smiles and looks down to his groin. “already?”

you smile back and the tension fills the room again.

“can i sit on your lap?” you ask and his eyes widen.

“but... i’m hard.”

“yea, that’s the point. i’ll grind on you, it’ll feel good.”

he nods and gestures for you to sit. you climb on top of him, straddling his lean frame. he hesitantly places his hands on your hips. you lean back in to kiss him and the sensation of his erection pressed against you causes a moan to slip out.

“sorry...” you mumble and see a smile on hendery’s face.

“don’t be.” he pulls you back into the kiss as his grip tightens on your hips.

you start to grind on him, very slightly at first, almost teasing him. he grunts into your mouth, a quiet form of encouragement and you grind a bit faster.

“does this feel alright?” you were experiencing your own bliss.

he nods, “take this slow, ok? don’t rush.” he smiles and presses kisses against your neck.

“ok,” you whisper and a cheesy grin plasters across your face. “just let me know if you want to stop.”

“i don’t think i’d ever want this to stop.” his hand latches onto your ass as he talks. “i’ve always wanted to do that.”

“i think you’ve thought about this more than you’re letting on.” you tease him.

“maybe...“ he smiles and presses his lips back against yours.

you grind a bit faster, admiring the way his hands grip your skin and his lips move with your own. his hands trail up your back, pressing you against his chest. he lies back and his bulge is a lot more prominent against you. you sit up, break the kiss, plant your hands against his chest and grind against him harder at this new angle.

he bites his lip before swearing, “fuck, y/n...” he braces his hands back on your hips, guiding them to hit where you and him both want. 

his eyes bore into yours and suddenly his innocent aura seemed long gone.

“can i take off my shirt?” you ask, wanting to assure that you weren’t moving too fast.

he nods and helps lift the seam of your shirt, sliding it over your head. hendery’s hands immediately move to your breasts, he nearly rips off your bra and the hunger in his eyes became evident.

“what happened to taking it slow?” you tease.

“fuck that,” he smiles and begins taking off his own shirt, “i just want you so bad, y/n. i don’t think i’ve ever wanted anyone this bad in my life.” he chuckles.

‘i’m glad we’re feeling the same way.” you smile and start to untie his sweatpants. “is this ok?”

“you don’t have to keep asking,” his hands begin toying with your nipples. “i trust you, remember?”

you smile before climbing off of him. he looks a bit confused until you say, “i want to suck you off.”

his eyes widen and he hesitates, you thought you may have made a wrong move. “really?”

“yes,” 

“o-ok...” he replies.

“don’t be nervous,” your hands trail over his bulge. “i know what i’m doing.” you smile.

he nods and lets his head fall back on your bed. you slide off his sweats and see a small, damp spot on his boxers; precum. you place a peck on the spot, you weren’t even sure why. this moment was just so endearing, you couldn’t help yourself. he lets out a soft whimper. he was so sensitive. you softly rub the hard bulge, watching for his reaction. he groans and slightly jerks his hips forward.

you slide off his boxers and he was so much bigger than you expected. his cock was thick, so thick, and veiny. you trace your fingers along the blue and red streaks and he lets out more whimpers. you notice precum dripping from the thick tip of his cock and lap it up.

his hips buck up and his tip is shoved into your mouth. you hear his groans get muffled by his hands. you take as much of his cock as you can into your mouth, struggling to wrap your mouth around his girth and letting out small moans as you do so.

“y/n... s’good...” he murmurs.

you bring your hand up to his balls, they were plump and heavy; full of cum and begging to be emptied. you fondle them for a bit and his hips jerk again, shoving his cock further into your throat. you gag a bit, moaning at the stretch of your mouth. spit runs down his cock and he sits up, admiring the sight.

“so fuckin’ good.” his eyelids were heavy. his hands make their way to your cheek. slowly, he glides his cock in and out of your mouth, not quite fucking your face but just enjoying the sight of your plump lips wrapped around his cock.

he slides his cock out of your mouth and you both let out a moan at the absence.

“that was...” his voice trails off when you wrap your hand around his cock, tightly stroking it. “fuck, y/n. you’re amazing. but i need more.”

you smile, sitting up and releasing your grip.

 he sits up with you and starts to untie your shorts.

“what position do you want to do?” you ask, obviously catching him off guard.

“which do you prefer?” 

“this isn’t about me.” you remind him with a smile.

he slides your shorts off and latches onto your ass again. “you’re the experienced one here.” he smiles, placing kisses on your chest and breasts. “how about missionary? i want to see all of you while we fuck.”

his words send butterflies straight to your core. “hendery… so bold…” you joke as you lie down beneath him.

the angle allows him to see the wet spot on your underwear. he grazes a finger over it, sending a shiver down your spine. his hands make their way to your boobs, he hovers over you, kissing and licking at your neck and jawline. 

“hendery…” you moan.

he slips off your underwear, running a finger along your shiny, wet, folds. “should i finger you first,” he asks. “to stretch you out?”

you nod, bringing your hands to caress his tone abs. you moans as he slips a finger into you.

“shit, you’re… tight.” he whimpers, his fingers squirming inside you.

“faster…” you whimper, already craving more of him.

he pumps his finger faster in and out of you, the sound and sight of your soaking pussy turned him on so much.

“can i add another?”

you nod, you’ll need the stretch before he goes inside you anyways.

he slips another finger inside of you. he curves it and hits your spot perfectly. 

“fuck, hendery. you’re so good.” you whimper.

he lifts a hand to rub your clit and you arch your back in response. hendery seemed indulged in your pleasure, closely observing your reaction to his touch. you glance down at his cock, precum dripped down his shaft.

“condoms… in my dresser…” you whimper, subliminally pleading for him to finally fill you up.

he nods, slips out of you, walks to your dresser and grabs a condom. you admire his body as he walks back, ripping the package open. he slides the condom on, positioning himself in front of your spread legs. he flicks your clit before teasing your wet slit with the head of his cock.

“fuck… so warm.” he groans

he thrusts into you, his stature faltering. he lets out loud groans as he bottoms out inside you. his groans mingle with your moans and whimpers; the feeling of him stretching out your tight pussy was overwhelming.

“f-fuck, hendery.” your hands grasp at his biceps, needing something to grip onto. 

his hands grab your waist, clenching onto you for stability. “fuck...fuck. y/n, you’re so tight.” he pulls out, leaving just the tip in before slamming back in to you. for his first time, he was doing amazing. “god, you feel amazing… i don’t think i’ll last…” he grunts.

you pull his body down to yours, wrapping your arms and legs around his frame. he kisses you before starting to thrust in and out of you, slowly at first but building a steady rhythm. he groans into your mouth, the kiss was messy but his strokes weren’t.

“you’re doing s-so well.” you pant as he fucks into you.

he smiles, pressing wet kisses on your neck.

“d-don’t stop.” he was fucking you into oblivion, his pace was still slow and consistent but you needed more. “faster, please?” you whimper.

he sits back up, bringing your legs to his shoulders. he took in the sight of your face contorted in pleasure as he sped up his thrusts.

“like this?” he stammers and grunts as you tighten around him.

“yes,” you moan in response. “just like that.” your whimpers echo in the room; an epiphany of vulgar sounds mixing in the tense air.

“fuck, y/n… i’m so close…” he pants, speeding up his thrusts even more. his finger moves to your clit, rubbing it and sending you into orbit.

“i-i’m coming. please, just like that- don’t stop-” you ramble until you hit your high.

the room is now silent, your mouths agape, eyes burning into each other’s as you orgasm around his cock. simultaneously, his cock empties out into the condom. you both remain still, breathless as you come down from your high. hendery’s weight drops onto you and you wrap your arms around him, savoring the feeling of his thick cock twitching inside of you.

“fuck.” he growls quietly into your ear. “just... fuck.”

he slides off of you, his and your body too limp and fucked out to move.

“we really just did that,” you smile, turning to look at him.

“we did.” he smiles back. “and it was fucking amazing.” beads of sweat now covered his forehead and chest.

“you did really well.” you compliment him and kiss his cheek.

“thank you,” he smiles, pecking your lips. “maybe we should do this more often?”

“you wish,” you tease. “maybe it wouldn’t be horrible… but for now, we need to clean up.” you smile and gesture to the condom.

he slides it off, and tosses it in the trash.

“shower?” you say, offering him your hand.

he nods, takes your hand and you make your way to your bathroom.

[stutterfly]

Failure to Communicate

This was a joint collab fic that @gukslut​ and I worked on, commissioned by @cypherft-v as part of our fundraising for Black Lives Matter. Thank you for contributing! Banner & moodboard by me :)

{Pairing} Park Jimin/ Reader

{Genre} Enemies to Lovers/ College AU/ comedy/ smut

{Rating} Mature - Explicit 

{Word Count} 21K

{Warnings} oral, kissing, fingering, protected sex, biting, marking, other filthy shit

{Summary} You've always had a crush on Park Jimin, but the truth is that you're just one of many. He just so happens to be the TA for one of your classes, and you're determined to make your feelings known. Whether or not he takes you seriously remains to be seen.

{Prompt} Could either of you write an enemies to lover story about jimin and y/n set in college where he was her TA and got her kicked out of her major bc he didnt give her the grade she needed and was generally unhelpful? Posted on tumblr on August 17, 2020 by stutterfly and cross-posted to Ao3. I do not allow reposting, translations, or edits, to any platform, including YouTube.

Ten more minutes. You can barely see the clock from your seat against the wall. The lecture hall isn't crowded by any means; to the contrary, this Tuesday/Thursday psych class is usually pretty empty. You could have just as easily sat in the middle, but it doesn't afford you the same view. Well, it does. But not the one you prefer. It's just that positioned front and center, your staring would look more obvious. At least that's what you're telling yourself. If you stare from the corner it's less conspicuous, which is important because you do a lot of staring in this class. Park Jimin is the TA.

The man in question sits off to the side at a table of his own, typing away on his laptop. This reminds you that you haven’t been doing much other than quietly ogling from a distance. The only notes you're taking are lackluster doodles of his appearance and the occasional squiggle of your pen at the quiet sighs he lets out when he stretches his back after sitting hunched over his laptop for too long.

Jimin is absolutely breathtaking — even in an ugly plaid three-piece suit and perfectly round spectacles that would look horrid on any normal person. You're definitely not the only one who has noticed. His beautiful features and fantastic bone structure forge a man who is borderline ethereal. With soft eyes, big pouty lips, a flawless complexion, and a flirtatious demeanor he has enraptured many over the years. He's popular... like, really popular.

You begrudgingly count yourself among those love-smitten numbers. You know it’s hopeless and illogical. He could have any person he so desired at any point in time. Why would he ever choose someone like you? If you’d been paying any sort of attention to the subject matter of this class you might know that things like feelings and life’s rhetorical questions often don’t make sense.

But you’re shit at psychology. You’re more of a blunt poet at heart, and that heart is often hidden behind twisted brambles of anxiety and sharp thorns of insecurity.

You are but a speck of dirt upon his round glasses. It’s been a hopeless, silent crush for some time, but now that he’s assisting the professor in this core requirement for your academic studies, he has to acknowledge your presence. You’re a speck he has to look at before swiping you out of sight with a wave of his hand.

He's the object of just about everyone's affections, and rightfully so. He's not just gorgeous, he's charismatic, charming, and such a smooth talker. The word on campus says those pretty lips of his can do a lot of other really wonderful things too. You've been watching him chew on them for the past five minutes straight, wondering how many times his deliciously pink tongue can sweep over them before he makes them chapped.

Maybe they're chapped already. Maybe you should offer him your chapstick? Or maybe you should never talk to him at all, because you don't stand a chance. Park Jimin would chew you up and leave you bleeding out with a broken heart, and you know it. That doesn't stop you from imagining all the ways he could take you in his mouth first. You could watch those pretty lips all day long, but you’ll settle for an hour on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Looking up as if he's been paying attention all along, Jimin attempts to figure out where the professor is in the lesson. It’s obvious that he wasn't listening at all and was instead answering messages. It would be nice if he could say they were messages for class, but that's not true and Jimin is a lot of things, but he isn't a liar. He's been talking to Chungha, his current flavor of the week.

He turns toward the students as the professor dismisses the class and there you are, eager and awestruck. It takes every ounce of self control Jimin has not to roll his eyes. Another fan, he presumes. You can't handle him, but he can tell by the embarrassed way you tear your eyes from him to look anywhere else that it hasn't stopped you from thinking about it.

Trying to seem nonchalant now is a lost cause. Jimin has no shame and although you busied yourself by packing up your neglected textbooks and darting your gaze to various points in the room for a straight minute, Jimin is still staring at you when you look back at him. He smirks when your eyes meet. It's not a flirty kind of smirk, you sadly note. It's condescending in your eyes, which further solidifies your theory: Jimin is too much for you no matter how badly you want a taste of him.

"Did you take notes?" he asks, nodding toward your backpack where you've just tucked your computer and sketched up notebook.

"I- uhh..." You panic.

"You know that was all about the exam next week. You're gonna need those notes if you want to have any hope of passing it," he tells you, shoving his own computer into his bag.

"I was just.. um, I was--" you attempt to explain.

"Busy staring at me?" He smiles and you know he knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s teasing oh gyou.

You balk at the blatant accusation and force a half-laugh, half-scoff from your throat. “No.”

"Yes," he corrects with a light and mellifluous laugh. "Is there pen on my face or were you hoping you could be?"

"What?" you choke, eyes watering at the idea.

Jimin shakes his head, laughing softly to himself as he remembers his surroundings. With a small clear of his throat and the subtle adjusting of his tie, he provides a suggestion for you. “Get them from Taehyung.”

"Get what?" you ask, drawing a blank on what this conversation was even about. It's the first time you've ever actually talked to him outside of your dreams and it’s proving to be a lot harder than you thought it would be.

"The notes, Y/N. Get the notes from Taehyung, you know, the ones that you didn't take today because you were daydreaming about my mouth," he tells you, heading for the door.

Taehyung, who is the only other person left in the room wiggles his fingers at you in a wave. When you turn back, Jimin is gone.

"Need the notes?" Taehyung asks, voice free of judgement.

"Please," you sigh, relieved that he'd waited.

He spins his laptop toward you, where an email is already open with the notes attachment added. "Drop your address in there," he says standing up.

"Thank you so much," you say, frantically typing your student email into the space.

"Hey, y/n?" Taehyung asks, the bristles of curiosity or concern painting his tone with a soft comfort.

"Yeah?"

"Jimin is a fool," he tells you.

"What?"

"If you were looking at me like that, I'd at least ask for your number." Tae offers a combination of large hopeful eyes and a giant goofy grin as he holds his phone out for you.

Giggling, you take it from his hand and add your number to his contacts list. He purses his lips to hide his excitement as he takes his phone back. He slides it into his pocket before hastily packing the rest of his things into his leather messenger bag.

"Thanks, Taehyung," you say, waving on your way out the door.

"Wait!" he shouts after you, half of the contents of his bag threatening to spill onto the floor as he scrambles away from the table. He adjusts his belongings and clears his throat, instantly adopting a smooth persona. "Where are you going? I'll walk you."

"My car?"

"Wanna come eat with me?" he wonders. He's confident, but it's not the same kind of arrogant confidence that Jimin oozes. He's softer. He feels more real, more attainable. He obviously knows he's a catch and he’s definitely expressed the same about you. What could be the harm in letting an attractive man stroke your ego a little bit? If you’re being honest with yourself, you can use the boost after such a pathetic display towards your crush.

"Oh, uh... yeah. I guess so," you agree, letting him lead the way out the door.

"Cool." Tae takes his glasses off and hooks them in his shirt. Pulling a snapback from his bag, he pushes his hair back and puts it on before he swings his messenger bag over his shoulder. Damn. Why did that raise his hotness like ten whole levels?

"You like hamburgers?"

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Taehyung slips into the seat next to you on Thursday, brushing against you very deliberately as he passes.

"Hello, sugar," he says, licking his lips as he spares a fleeting glance down at your chest.

"Hey, Tae," you greet him while your eyes are still locked on Jimin.

"Still on Jimin, huh?" he asks. He doesn't sound particularly disappointed, or surprised for that matter. He's just stating a fact. You're relieved he's not offended. Letting him eat you out in his backseat after dinner was probably not your best decision, although it seems like it meant about as much to him as it did to you.

"I don't know," you say with a shrug.

"It's okay. I can't blame you. I could put in a good word for you if you want. We're close," he informs you, sitting back and spreading his legs wide under the desk.

Sighing, you rest your cheek in your palm. "I've got a plan," you confess.

"Oh yeah?" he chuckles. He playfully knocks his knee against yours as if to signal for you to spill. "Do tell."

"I think I need a little extra help with this material," you tell Taehyung.

"Good luck, Y/n. I hope he can squeeze you into his busy schedule, but hey, if he can't, I'm totally down to squeeze into yours anytime."

Looking at Tae out of the corner of your eye, you smile at the grin he wears and start to laugh at the way he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

"I'll keep that in mind," you joke.

"Please do."

The minutes drag on as you wait for this class to end. Doing your best to seem a little less obsessive this time, you make a point to take notes and look at the teacher more than the TA. Jimin still catches you staring at least three times. It's embarrassing, but not enough to stop you from approaching him as the room empties out.

"Hi, y/n," Jimin sings, giving you a knowing smile.

"Hi." You tuck your hair behind your ear, and smile back.

"Do you need something?" he wonders, purposefully combing his fingers through his silver hair.

Damn, do you ever.

"I was wondering if you had time to help me. I'm struggling with this material and I could really use some one-on-one guidance." Leaning over his desk you make sure he has a good view right down your shirt, not that his eyes wander from yours. While he shows restraint in his gaze you swear he briefly drags his bottom lip through his teeth before he catches himself.

"One-on-one, huh?" He sticks his tongue in his cheek, looking amused. "I bet Taehyung would give you some one-on-one guidance."

You're sure that's true, but it's not Taehyung you're after. Taehyung isn’t the TA. Taehyung isn’t getting paid to help teach a course. Of course you want to say that and in your head you rehearse the words but you can’t seem to find a way to phrase them eloquently enough. Why do you always get stupid brain around him? Your plan is quickly falling apart.

Jimin waits for your response with his eyebrows raised. You know he's two seconds away from leaving you gaping at him and walking out the door, so you do something incredibly rash and stupid.

"I like you," you blurt out.

Jimin smiles. He knows that, obviously. He also knows damn well that you're perfectly capable of looking back at your notes by yourself. You're definitely smart and dedicated enough to study on your own. He can't help teasing you anyway.

"Everyone likes me," he casually informs you as he plants his palms on the desk and leans on them.

He peeks over the edge of his glasses as he looks up at you, like some kind of otherworldly sexy librarian. If deities ever needed a librarian, Jimin wouldn’t even need a resume. His charm and seduction are so strong that you almost miss his rejection. Almost. You're stunned into silence when it hits you. Just as you're about to tuck and run, he smiles again.

"But,” he pauses to click his tongue thoughtfully, “I think I have some time on Saturday. I'll give you my number.” He rips a corner of paper out of his notebook. "Is it okay if I come to your place? Do you have a dorm or…”

"Oh. My apartment’s fine!" you flounder, trying to remember how to speak coherent sentences. Jimin. In your room. How many dreams have you had about this moment? "I mean, yeah, sure. You'll come to mine, yeah."

Jimin giggles and it sounds like pealing bells. You're lost in the beautiful sound of it until you realize that he's laughing at you. "You okay with that? We could meet somewhere else instead."

"I wouldn't mind you in my room," you sigh. Open mouth; insert foot.

He raises an eyebrow, giving you a chance to backtrack, but you're both well aware you meant every word of that.

"Okay, y/n. See you Saturday then. Call me."

"I’ll call you," you repeat, resisting the urge to slap your palm over your face. You sound like an idiot. Stupid brain strikes again.

Jimin barely notices, all too used to girls falling over themselves to get his attention. You’re no different to him, just another pretty face in a sea of women entranced by the way he walks, talks, and breathes. It’s not his fault he’s so damn pretty. He does note that you’re brave, however. Not many people come on to him so brazenly, and that’s something worth rewarding. Besides, he feels a sort of obligation to help you out. He is getting paid to help out the professor, after all.

He winks at you as he leaves, taking your breath and your sanity with him. You have Park Jimin’s phone number. Park Jimin is going to be in your apartment in two days. Maybe you didn’t bomb that as hard as you thought.

A slow clap beckons you to look back for the source and you find Taehyung looking back at you with his boxy grin. When he’s sure he’s got your attention he raises his two thumbs up in approval.

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Jimin is not surprised when Chungha disappears into the clusterfuck of bodies as soon as they step into the party. They may have come here together, but their fling is on its last leg and they both know it. She wants him off her couch, doesn't appreciate the feeling of tied-down-ness that comes with your friend with benefits staying over all the time. She's ready to move on, that means he has to as well.

Jimin isn't even sure whose house this is, but he’s happy to tag along for free booze and maybe a new face to go home with. Luckily, his friends are never far, and he finds them easily. Getting absolutely hammered in the backyard makes them hard to miss. Jungkook is the only one looking particularly bored as a very drunk Taehyung hangs all over him talking about the sweetest thing he ever tasted.

"Why so glum?" Jimin asks, nudging Jungkook's shoulder with his own.

"I'm the designated driver tonight," Jungkook sighs, pushing Taehyung off of him.

Taehyung slumps to the ground, immediately entranced by the stars above him. Jungkook kicks at him gently.

"Where's your girlfriend? I haven't seen you without your tongue down her throat all week," Jungkook wonders, looking behind Jimin for the woman in question.

"Girlfriend," Jimin repeats with a snort. "Hilarious. That's not a thing. She's probably looking for her next kill."

Jungkook regards Jimin thoughtfully, his eyebrows scrunching toward each other. "If you take over DD you can have the futon."

Jungkook loves his futon. It's one of his most prized possessions. He keeps it very clean and being allowed to get anywhere near it is a privilege. Jimin is pretty sure he goes over it with a lint roller as part of his nighttime routine. It's also incredibly comfortable.

Jimin releases a breath in a tortured groan as he thinks over his options. He could get black out drunk and wake up god knows where with a terrible hangover, or he could hang out and watch his friends get black out drunk and then wake up on a futon that feels more like a cloud than a mattress, a little slice of heaven in Jungkook and Taehyung's little apartment.

"Okay," Jimin relents. "Give me the keys. I’ll stick to water for the rest of the night."

"Ah, I love you man," Jungkook praises, tossing his keys in Jimin's general direction before grabbing the newly opened can of beer out of Taehyung's hand below him. Taehyung, still staring up at the sky with a glazed smile, doesn't react. It takes Jungkook all of five seconds to pour the contents of the can straight down his throat. He follows this by smashing the can in a bicep curl with a giggle and a bashful smile.

"Do it again," an unfamiliar girly voice pleads from across the table. She tosses him another can and he repeats the action, turning away when he's finished so that he doesn't have to see her reaction. Jimin knows what's going to happen once his friend gets a few more beers in him. Jungkook is going to go apeshit. There will be no trace of this shy hunk of muscle who blushes and coils away from pretty girls. He'll be chest thumping shirtless and picking up everyone who gets close enough to touch. Half of them will probably end up thrown in the pool, if history is anything to go by, and he'll most likely have the hottest girl at the party slobbering all over him in the backseat when Jimin drives him home tonight.

Jimin's suspicions prove true an hour later when Jungkook throws Tae in the pool. Jimin runs to the edge of it in a panic. Tae was very drunk so he needs to make sure he's not just sinking like a stone. That was his first mistake, although he'd make it again to keep Taehyung safe. His second mistake was wearing these ridiculously tight ass jeans.

Any other pair and he might have been able to pry his cell phone from his pocket the second he felt JK's hands on his back. Had he worn any other pair of pants he might have been able to throw it to safety in the grass before he hit the surface of the pool. As it stands, his skin tight jeans are soaked through, Tae is slightly more sober than he was when Jimin arrived and is swimming just fine, and Jimin's phone is totally destroyed.

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You should be sleeping. It's three in the morning. You should definitely not be awake right now. Lifting your phone up for the three hundredth time tonight, you're not surprised to have no new notifications. That text you sent to Jimin hours ago has gone unanswered.

You typed and erased it at least ten times, agonized over what to say, and how to say it. By the time you pressed send, the message was nothing like how it began and you noticed a second too late that you didn't even tell him who you were. Adding a second text saying 'it's y/n btw' seemed so desperate. You've been waiting for him to ask who you are for so long that you've convinced yourself he already knows and he's avoiding you on purpose. Who else would have said "i'm excited to see you tomorrow" in a text about meeting up to study? He knows it's you. He has to. The alternative possibility that he plans to see other people tomorrow too is too bothersome to accept. You really need to let this go and try to sleep.

Keys in the door stop you from dragging yourself off the couch. Your roommate will see you and accuse you of trying to run away from him to avoid something. He’s right, of course. You’ve attempted to flee from your problems in the past, against his advice. Now you know better than to try. It's much better to face things with Yoongi head on. At the very least, maybe he's got something helpful to say.

"Why're you up? You look sad." His words slur just the tiniest bit and he leans against the wall for stability as he takes off his shoes just inside the door. You see right through his attempts at nonchalance. He's tipsy.

"A boy I like isn't texting me back," you admit with a scowl. "You didn't drive, did you?"

"No, friend dropped me off. Is it Taehyung?" Yoongi asks, not pausing for an answer. "I wouldn't worry too much. He talked about you a lot tonight. He was really drunk though. You should go to bed. He'll probably text you in the morning."

You don't bother to correct Yoongi. Admitting you're harboring a huge fucking crush on the campus it-boy is the most foolish thing you could possibly do. It's embarrassing and naive and Yoongi would pity you for falling for someone so far out of your league. Maybe you should just date Taehyung and forget about Jimin. He sure seems to have forgotten about you.

When the morning comes and your only notifications are an email from Target and a text from your mom, you muster up every bit of courage you could possibly find in your body and call him. You’d rather know if he’s deliberately ignoring you now than agonize over other possibilities all day.

It doesn't even ring. His phone goes straight to voicemail. You try again, and a third time. Voicemail, voicemail. Could it be you rushed putting his number in and did it incorrectly? You dig through your backpack for the slip of paper he gave you to double check, and sure enough, it’s his number. He's ignoring you. He turned off his phone to solidify that fact in your brain.

Last night, laying awake waiting for his name to light up your phone, you felt pretty damn bad. In the daylight, with rest and a clear head, you're absolutely crushed. He was supposed to come over. You had plans. It was stupid of you to think you could earn space in his mind or time in his schedule. He played you, and it hurts.

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Studying on your own proves more difficult than you imagined. With only Tae's notes to go by, you feel like you're quizzing yourself on things you already know. Turning to the textbook doesn't give you the specialized knowledge you need for the exam. You could never hope to memorize enough of it that you'd retain something pertinent.

On top of that, your heart hurts. You were so close to spending time together you could practically smell the subtle scent of his cologne. He pulled the rug right out from under you so fast, your ass is sore from falling on it so hard.

Sunday and Monday pass miserably in their slowness as you continue to nurse your tender rejected heart. You spend two days mulling over how you're going to face Jimin on Tuesday, let alone how you’re going to pass this exam when you're so disgustingly focused on figuring out why he stood you up and ignored you all weekend.

Tuesday comes too soon and you find yourself lingering outside the lecture hall for way longer than any sane person should.

That's what bothers you the most about this whole thing with Jimin. He's stolen your sense. How on earth did you let a stupid crush, on a boy you hardly know, get between you and your grades? You tell yourself no more as you suck in a deep breath and steel yourself to march right through the door. You're not going to let Park Jimin and his cruelty stand between you and your credits.

With your resolve solid and your head held high, you push yourself forward. You don't even spare a glance in his general direction as you pass, although it would be a lie to say you didn't clock him in your peripheral. Tae sits down next to you a moment later and you thank your lucky stars you have a friend here to make you look busy.

"Ready to make this exam your bitch?" he asks, making finger guns at you and clicking his tongue.

"That remains to be seen," you say, turning toward him in your seat so that Jimin is behind you. "I couldn't get anything done this weekend," you confess. "I thought I was more prepared than I am so it really just depends on what's on the exam."

"Aw fuck, you could have called me," he says, passing you his note cards. "We could have studied together."

"Oh, Tae," you sigh, pushing his hand back and refusing his offer of notes. "You should use this time for yourself. It wouldn't be fair of me to take it from you."

"We've got ten minutes." He points to the clock at the front of the lecture hall. "Quiz me. It will help us both."

Ten minutes fly by as you do your absolute best to retain any of the information in Taehyung's carefully written cards. You take one last glance at it before someone slips it from your hand and replaces it with a test. You know it's Jimin.

Only when you look up and level him with a glare does it seem to register on his face that you're angry. Realization dawns on him as you snatch the test and lean over it on your desk.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry," he quietly whispers, but he's moving on already. The exam is about to begin. He doesn't have time to explain himself right now. He knows what it looks like. He led you on and stood you up without so much as a text message. He should have asked Tae to tell you what happened, but the truth is that he forgot about you entirely and he knows that is the cruelest thing he could possibly confess.

Nearly an hour later you set your pencil down and run your fingers through your hair. Did any of those answers make sense? Your only possible saving grace is bullshitting your way through the open responses. Maybe you’ll earn some partial credit at the very least.

You swallow the petty words threatening to spill from your tongue as you gather your things and approach Jimin’s desk with your test in hand. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t notice the anxious glances he threw your way. You swore every time you looked up he was looking at you, so you’d squint like you were checking the time, like you had somewhere more important to be than taking an exam for a core requirement course.

As you slap the packet of your evident failure down on his desk, you don your best apathetic expression. You look down at him and allow a sliver of eye contact, just enough to send the message that you don’t care anymore. You try to look bored. He doesn’t deserve to see how he’s hurt you or angered you. He’s nothing to you. You’re nothing to him, but you’re not beneath him. He’s beneath you. You don’t just look at him; you look through him.

He blinks a few times and a chill runs down his spine. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words won’t form.

“Don’t bother. I don’t care,” you whisper with a roll of your eyes.

You make sure to straighten your shoulders and keep your chin up as you turn on your heel and leave. You bombed that exam and you know it, thanks to your stupid feelings, but at the very least you achieved the victory of shaking Park Jimin to his core. So why do you feel like you’re about to sob in the bathroom down the hall?

Oh. Because you are. You spend at least five minutes composing yourself and washing your face before your phone buzzes with a much needed distraction.

[NEW MESSAGE] Tae: hungry?

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Jimin’s leg bounces uncontrollably under his desk while he waits for the remaining students to finish their exams so he can go after you. He wracks his brain for ways to clear the nervous tension dwelling within but it’s no use. Confrontation makes him so uncomfortable. Still, he can’t have you thinking he’s a total douche. He should text you. Fuck, he should call you. And he would, if he had a working phone. The second the last student drops their exam on his desk he’s going to find you and apologize.

He knows his reputation precedes him. He knows exactly what this looks like. You probably think he blew you off to get some or just led you on entirely, but he really did mean to meet up with you. He needs to clear the air. Maybe he’s a little loose with his morals at times, but he’s never an asshole on purpose. He prides himself on being a beacon of positivity and an example on how to make people feel good even if it’s only to make them feel good. He barely knows you, but it bothers him to think that you’re out there thinking he’s a heartless jerk and that he hurt your feelings on purpose.

It’s a big campus and Jimin spends the better half of an hour searching it before he finds you in the cafeteria with Taehyung. You look awfully close, and he almost feels bad interrupting you, but he owes you an explanation. It’s a mystery to him why on earth you would seek out his company when Taehyung seems all too willing to be what you need.

Taehyung notices him before you do. He shakes his head at Jimin disapprovingly. “Cold, man. So cold.”

Jimin nods, hanging his head. He’s well aware. You haven’t turned around yet and don’t intend to. If Jimin can ignore you then you can ignore him too. Besides, if you turn to face him, he might notice your watery, puffy eyes. How incredibly foolish that would be to admit that you’ve been crying about being stood up by someone you’ve barely even spoken to.

“Y/n?” Jimin’s soft voice calls to you, melodic and soothing as ever. “Can I have a minute?”

Taehyung looks between the two of you while he moves a french fry into his mouth at a snail’s pace and slowly chews as if this is free entertainment.

“No,” you answer.

“I’m sorry about Saturday,” he tells you, progressing despite your refusal to listen. He plants his hands on the table beside you and leans in to try to steal a glance at your profile, but you turn your head away.

“Jungkook pushed me in the pool right after this asshole,” he says, pointing at Taehyung. “My phone was in my pocket. It’s ruined.”

“Hey,” Taehyung interrupts, his mouth open in protest and full of half-chewed fries. “Don’t pin this on me. You could have asked any one of us to let her know what happened. You never even mentioned it. Why don’t you just admit that you forgot?” Taehyung suggests, jamming another french fry into his little paper cup of ketchup before cramming it into his mouth.

Jimin fumes for a moment, glaring at Tae before he pulls out the chair next to you and spins it around. He straddles it and rests his chin on the backrest. “Y/n, I’m sorry. I forgot. I swear I never would have done something like that to you on purpose. My phone getting ruined messed up a lot of things, but if you give me another chance, I’d love to prove that I’m not the horrible person you think I am.”

Silence. You glance over at Taehyung, willing him to speak up and either back Jimin up or get you out of this. You’re ready to forgive Jimin already and leave with him right now and it’s not lost on you how bad that looks. It’s so easy for Jimin to have you wrapped around his fingers. You wish he was ugly. You wish you never signed up for this stupid class. You wish you could feel for Tae the way you feel for Jimin so that you could just leave with him instead. You’re about ready to anyway when he finally opens his mouth again.

“I think you should take her out to eat. Eating out is the perfect way to apologize, don’t you think?” Tae’s grin is so wide it makes his eyes crinkle.

You huff out a humorless laugh. If that’s what you wanted you’d stick with the original plan and be in the backseat of Taehyung’s car again in the next twenty minutes. Against your better judgement, you turn to look at Jimin, puffy eyes and runny nose no longer hidden. He’s a little taken back by your expression. He smiles at you softly and reaches out to brush his knuckles against your cheek. You practically melt into his touch.

“Mmm, I would like something sweet.” Jimin licks his lips. “How about ice cream?”

“When?” you ask, embarrassed by the way your voice cracks and by how easily you’re giving in.

“Now?”

“Well, look at the time,” Tae says, standing with his tray and messenger bag. “I’ve got to go wash my hair but you two have fun on your date. Use protection!” he calls behind him on his way toward the exit.

You’d be irritated by his blunt suggestion if his statement didn’t swirl a storm of butterflies deep in your gut. You’re so distracted by them that you don’t realize that you’re still gaping at Jimin in disbelief.

“So?” Jimin wonders, holding out his hand.

“I don’t forgive you,” you insist while taking it into yours. Although it’s probably a lie, he doesn’t call you on it. He simply smiles and gives your hand a tiny comforting squeeze.

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“My car is on the other side of campus,” you tell him once you’ve stepped outside. “Where are you parked?”

“Oh, um,” he stalls. “I thought it might be nice to walk, give us more time to talk. Is that okay?”

“Isn’t it kind of far?” you ask, assuming he's taking you to that chain ice cream shoppe a few miles off campus.

"No, this place is close. It's a secret. Not many people know about it," he says with a wink.

"You say that to everyone don't you?" You narrow your eyes at him, moving out of reach when he tries to put his arm around you.

"No," he laughs. "I've been here with other people, though. I was here with Jin last week." He smiles, leading the way toward a small alley between buildings.

You follow him easily, questioning again why you have so little self preservation when it comes to him. At the other end of the alley you can see what looks like a park. Green trees line the sidewalk up ahead, creating a canopy against the brilliant sun. The walk to this mysterious ice cream place is shaded and chilly. Jimin slips his jacket off and slings it over your shoulders when he notices you rubbing at your arms.

"Almost there," he promises. In the distance, framed by two towering oaks, is a tiny little ice cream place. It looks like a mirage, something out of a board game or a fairy tale. The closer you get, the more real it becomes. The siding is faded, the roof looks like it's in dire need of repairs, and the hand-painted sign reading The Cheery Cherry has seen better days. It's clean though, sparkling in all the places that matter.

There is a stout old man behind the window with a shining silver ice cream scoop ready and waiting in his hand. Jimin greets him by name and asks for a simple vanilla cone. You're tempted to judge him, he doesn't strike you as the vanilla type, but there must be a reason. Maybe this is the best vanilla ice cream on earth. You order the same just in case, taking your first taste as Jimin pulls a few bills from his wallet and hands them over with a shaky hand.

To your dismay the ice cream is not extraordinary; it's just plain vanilla. You could probably get the same exact type from any grocery store. You should have gone with something else. You should have at least gotten the cheery cherry cone. That might have been a flavor worth tasting. Why was he so bent on coming here for such a bland ice cream?

You suppose you should be thankful for the gesture but you still feel uneasy, like he’s playing you somehow. It almost feels like he’s doing it out of obligation rather than desire. Is he doing the bare minimum because he doesn’t feel like you’re worth more than this? Your company must be the equivalent to a plain vanilla cone. Mediocre. Unremarkable. Ordinary.

Forgettable.

Jimin turns back to you with his ice cream in one hand and change filling the other. "Is it good?"

"It's vanilla." You shrug.

"Do you want something different?" he asks, counting the money in his hand.

"No, I like vanilla."

"Figures," he teases.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you snap back at him.

"Nothing, sweetheart. I just think you're soft, sweet. Vanilla suits you."

"I am not vanilla. I do all kinds of freaky shit," you argue, realizing too late that you've over shared in your annoyance.

Jimin looks you over with a smirk, bringing his ice cream to his lips and dragging his tongue around the edge of the cone where it's dripping. "Noted," he says.

"I didn't mean-- I wasn't -- UGH," you huff, embarrassed that he's still making a fool of you from the doghouse. You need to change the subject fast. "What'syourmajor?" You rush the question past your lips and he laughs at your flustered state, waiting for you to slow down and ask him in words he can understand.

"Your major?" you repeat, slower this time.

"Oh, uh. Urban studies."

"Interesting."

"You don't know what that means, huh?" He nudges you with his elbow, falling in stride beside you. Unfortunately, you had just brought your ice cream up to your mouth and his nudging caused you to smear it across your cheek.

You look at him angrily. First he stood you up, forgot about you, then he had the nerve to show up to class today looking like a fucking angel, takes you for ice cream to make it up to you, and now he's teasing you and making you look every bit the fool you feel like you are. Tears well in your eyes when he laughs at the mess he caused.

"I'm sorry," he says through his giggling. He reaches out to gently wipe your cheek with his thumb which he promptly pops in his mouth and sucks clean after. "What's wrong?"

You swipe at your eyes, ridding them of the tears that were about to spill out as your shame bubbles over. "You make me feel stupid," you confess. "You're wasting my time."

Shoving his jacket back at him, you take off in the direction you came, throwing your stupid vanilla cone in the closest trash can and kicking yourself for not leaving with Taehyung instead. Jimin winces at the action, looking like you’ve discarded a precious keepsake rather than a plain, boring vanilla cone.

"Y/n, wait!" he calls, catching up to you with ease. He takes you by the wrist and spins you back to face him. "I don't think you're stupid at all. I’m sorry I’m so bad at this.” He sighs, softening his hold on you. “I didn’t know what to think about you when you approached me at first, you know? Girls throw themselves at me all the time.”

You grimace at his words and roll your eyes, snatching your wrist back with a scowl. Of course he thinks you were throwing yourself at him, but you’re sure that you weren’t. You were just being direct about your feelings. Do you really come across as such a desperate person? Maybe you should ask Yoongi for his opinion later.

“But I definitely didn’t mean to stand you up and I don’t mean to make you feel stupid at all. I think you're pretty smart, you’re cute and you’re actually bolder than I initially thought. I'd love to get to know you better. I know I'm not doing so great so far, but I can be better. Please, sit with me?" he asks, walking to a nearby park bench.

Reluctantly, you follow, although you make a point to drag your feet the whole way there. When you sit down beside him, he loops an arm around your waist and draws you closer, offering his ice cream up to you once your legs brush against his. You reach for it but he pulls it away.

"Hey," he jokes. "Just lick it. I didn't make you throw yours away."

You shake your head and lean forward to drag your tongue over what's left of his vanilla cone.

"Forgive me?" he asks. His toothy smile catches the sunlight and it genuinely hurts your eyes to keep looking.

"Okay. One more chance," you agree. "So, urban studies?"

He relaxes back against the bench, taking another lick before he offers the cone to you again. "Yeah, it's like community development and stuff. What about you, princess? What are you studying?"

You flush at the nickname, heat rising in your face and other places you'd rather not acknowledge. You're oblivious to the fact that you're having a similar effect on Jimin. The way you're licking his ice cream is making his pants feel a little tight.

"Teaching," you tell him, picking at the peeling paint on the bench.

"Little kids?"

"Yeah." You take another lick of his ice cream while he holds it, looking up halfway through.

Jimin's expression is unreadable, stunned almost. He shifts a little, crosses his legs, clears his throat.

"Kids are fun. I have a younger brother," he tells you.

"A lot younger?"

"No," he laughs. "But he's a total baby so it's basically the same.”

“Oh, does he get that from you?” you tease with a giggle.

His mouth drops open in surprise. “Hey,” he pouts. “That’s not nice.”

“I never said I was nice,” you tell him, taking another slow lick of his ice cream.

“Clearly,” he scoffs with a roll of his eyes. He drags his lip through his teeth to try to hide the smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

You manage to cram so much conversation into the next twenty minutes on this park bench, learning more about the mysterious campus celebrity than you ever thought you’d know. You hope his interest wasn't feigned, because it felt so fucking good to have his attention, to have him really listen to you and ask you about your life and your family and your hopes for the future. If you're not mistaken, you might think this was real progress.

Jimin watches you walk back toward campus with a soft smile and an unfamiliar feeling brewing inside him. You've surprised him. You're not the naive infatuated little girl he took you for. If he had a phone he'd be texting you already. He'd call you tonight, and maybe tomorrow. It's alarming to him how badly he wants another ten minutes with you. He hates that you declined his offer to walk you to your next class, but damn does he ever appreciate the view.

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Thursday comes quickly. After your initial ice cream date, Jimin has found himself curiously seeking your attention rather than the other way around. With his phone out of commission he was hanging around the cafeteria all day yesterday in hopes of catching you. While it’s clear you don’t trust him and you haven’t forgiven him, you seem to have softened up a bit. You spent your meals together and allowed him to walk you to your classes, all while exchanging playful jabs at each other. You might forgive him for bailing if yesterday stood alone. Today is a whole different story.

Now Jimin is staring down a stack of graded exams the professor has dropped on the table at the front of the room. Students haven’t begun to trickle in yet so when the professor takes the opportunity to excuse himself, Jimin wastes no time in flipping through the pile to get a sense of the overall success of the class. When he gets to a test marked in thick red marker with an ‘F’ his stomach drops. He knows it’s yours before he even reads the name. He was hoping maybe you’d been lying about not paying attention.

He shuffles the exam back into place and straightens the pile just as the earliest student walks in. Jimin offers her a wan smile and a tiny bow of his head as a greeting. Although his stomach is still sinking and churning, he’s already thinking about ways he might be able to make it up to you.

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Jimin finds you in the cafeteria with Taehyung again, where he has you distracted from your misery by folding and unfolding a cootie catcher in front of your face like you're in third grade and not your third year of college.

"Pick a color now, y/n," Tae urges, opening and closing the folded paper four times after you've indicated the triangle marked 'pink.' "Hmm," he ponders. "It says you need to relax."

"What is this, a fortune cookie? I thought these things were like truth or dare, or like... who I was gonna marry," you complain, flicking the craft from his hands.

Jimin picks the paper up off the floor and hands it back to Taehyung. "Do me," he says.

After a moment of pointing and folding, Tae announces, "It says you need to apologize. Again."

Jimin looks at you while Tae packs up his stuff. After dropping a kiss on the top of your head he leaves for his next class. The action makes Jimin furrow his brows and frown. A feeling too uncomfortably close to jealousy blooms in his chest. Why did that bother him so much? He's not ready to acknowledge the answer to that. Instead, he contradicts it by reminding himself that Tae is one of his closest friends and it's cool that the two of you are getting close too.

"Princess?" Jimin's song-like voice drifts to your ears once Tae has disappeared. You've pressed your face into your folded arms on the table and it's taking everything you have not to start crying about your failed exam again. "I'm so sorry," he whispers, laying his hand against the small of your back and beginning to rub soft circles there. "I'm sorry I didn't help you."

"I wish you were ugly," you mumble into your arms.

"What?" he laughs, leaning his face down next to yours.

You lift your head to meet his eyes. "If you were ugly this never would have happened," you insist, sitting up and shaking his hand off your back with a twist of your spine. "Just be ugly! FUCK."

Jimin smiles before screwing his face up into the most unrecognizable grimace he can manage. He holds it until you start to smile then switches to another terrible expression, with his chin tucked into his neck so that it morphs into several chins and crosses his eyes for extra emphasis on its ridiculousness. When you start to laugh he sticks out his tongue to make it worse.

Once you’re clutching your stomach and doubled over with pealing laughter, he gives you the beautiful smile you're so used to again. "Let's do something fun together," he offers. "And then after that, we'll get studying and make this right. Please let me make it up to you."

"Okay," you agree, leaning into his open arms. It only took a couple days of spending time together to remove the awkwardness you felt when he touched you. He's even held your hand a few times while you walked together after your other classes. Now, his embrace feels welcome and comforting. You still can’t tell if he’s just trying to be nice or if he actually likes doing it but you don’t mind at all.

"There's a party on Saturday, will you come with me?"

"Where?" you ask, as if you have any hope of refusing him at all. You'd go anywhere with him and you know it but you want to try to play it cool. Your tone seems more tepid than you anticipate but he doesn’t seem to call you out on it.

"Jin's," he tells you, reaching for your hand and lacing your fingers together.

He rubs his thumb against the back of your hand while he waits for you to pretend to decide. You relish in the motion. The tingle of butterflies erupt in your belly again like a cannon aimed at your heart, ready to sink it in an instant. Instead of falling, your heart seems to fly up to your brain and a light giggle escapes your lips.

"Okay. I'll come," you say in a euphoric brain fog, looking down at your joined hands. It's scary how good it feels to have his attention like this, but you hope it doesn’t stop.

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"Why are you home?" Yoongi asks, finding you on the couch when he emerges from his bedroom. His late afternoon nap went longer than expected, leaving you believing he was out for the night. You settled in with Netflix and snacks of your own. He flops down next to you, causing you to swing your feet off the couch before they get squashed beneath his butt. He yawns and lets his head dip forward as he pulls out his phone and begins flipping through it.

"It's Friday night,” he reminds you, his tone scratchy. It makes you giggle.

"I didn't wanna go out alone and I thought you were gone. You're gonna be up all night now, you know."

"I would have stayed asleep but I've got a friend in need," he mumbles, rubbing the remainder of sleep from his eyes.

"Aww, you're so good to me." You beam, snuggling up to him and wrapping him up in a tight hug.

"Not you," he huffs with a disgusted grimace. “Ugh, that’s enough touching.”

You immediately pull back and scoff. “Wow. You’re lucky I know you know you love me.”

He rolls his eyes. "That’s debatable.”

“Yeah, okay,” you mock him in a tone of disbelief. You pop a chip into your mouth. “So why are you really up— if not to support your wonderful, beautiful, perfectly sculpted local couch potato?”

He smiles and steals the next chip from your hand before you can shove it into your mouth. “If you're good with it, my friend is gonna crash on our couch for a few days. His parents cut him off and he’s got nowhere to go. He’s almost got enough saved up to get his own place, but he could use some help in the meantime. Figured we’re doing alright and we have a couch. You cool with that?"

"Sure," you agree, trusting Yoongi's judgment. He's not gonna let some crazy person stay on your couch. "When?"

"I was just waiting for your approval but I hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to you before I passed out. I'll go pick him up now, if that's good with you," he says slipping his feet into a pair of sandals and looking for his keys.

"What, he doesn't have a car?"

"Sold it to pay for his books this semester. He's got nothing. He's keeping all his clothes in another friend's closet. It's kinda sad."

"That's rough," you agree, blowing out a heavy exhale and turning your attention back to the TV.

"I'll be back in a few. Maybe take it to your room so he can have the couch?" Yoongi suggests.

"Sure, sure," you say, already sucked back into your show and forgetting entirely about Yoongi and his friend for now.

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When Yoongi returns an hour later, you haven't moved. In fact, you’ve crashed… hard. Yoongi and his mystery guest enter to a chorus of your snores and the Friends theme song.

“Hey, get up,” Yoongi urges, nudging your shoulder lightly.

When you peel your eyes open to look at him, you’re utterly mystified to see the object of your affections a few feet behind him, standing awkwardly in your kitchen with a duffle slung over his shoulder.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you blink a few times to clear your vision. You want to be sure it's him before you open your mouth. He's there, in black sweats with a grey hoodie pulled up over his white baseball cap. “Jimin?”

“Oh good you know him," Yoongi says with relief coating his tone. "I’m gonna get him some blankets. Think you can take your Netflix marathon to your room?”

"Yeah, I can do that," you mumble, gathering up your mess and disappearing into your room without another word.

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Alone in your room, you conjure up a hundred reasons in your anxious mind that could explain why Jimin thought he had to keep this huge secret from you. He’s got nothing? Maybe he was afraid you'd tell people. Suddenly, it makes so much sense why he's always walking everywhere.

You think back to Tuesday at the Cheery Cherry. His usually steady hands were so shaky handing over those bills he pulled from his wallet. You think of how tightly he clutched his change and even counted it out afterward. If you hadn’t been so preoccupied with your own thoughts of inadequacy, you might have been able to put it together on your own. Your stomach drops when you recall the insulting way you threw your vanilla cone in the trash. The scene replays over and over again until you’re crying into your pillow.

Guilt keeps you awake until well past midnight as you turn these unsavory ideas over and over in your head, looking at them from every possible angle and over analyzing every detail of the time you've spent together thus far. Your eyes are now wide and dry, fixed on a black spot on your ceiling that you're hoping is just a speck and not a spider. The quilt in your hands is frayed, giving your nervous hands something to pick at while you let the silence drive you mad.

The soft knock on your door at half past one is a relief. Yoongi does his best cooking at odd hours, usually bringing you a plate if you're awake. It's a surprise to find Jimin outside your door instead. He awkwardly shifts from foot to foot until he finds your eyes in the dim glow of your table lamp.

"Did I wake you?" he whispers, head leaning against your door frame.

You shake your head, looking down at your skimpy sleep shorts and the university hoodie you pulled on to open the door. “I was up.”

“Can we talk?”

“Of course,” you answer, stepping aside so he can come in. Your eyes scan the room nervously, checking for underwear on the floor and counting the half empty glasses of water on your nightstand. If you knew Jimin was going to be in your bedroom tonight, you would have cleaned up. At least you didn’t leave your vibrator out in the open. You don’t think you’d recover from the embarrassment of that.

Jimin follows you to your bed, perching on the edge once you’ve settled back against your pillows.

“I feel like I owe you an explanation.”

“You don’t,” you respond immediately. “I’m happy you’re here.”

“Then why did you run away?” he asks, pulling at his hoodie strings.

“I wanted to give you space. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. You didn’t tell me what you were going through and I didn’t want to…” you trail off, unsure how to articulate just why you ran away.

“You didn’t want to embarrass me? Hurt my pride?” he asks, sarcasm evident.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. “You don’t owe me an explanation. We aren’t that close.”

“That’s the problem,” he whispers. “I want to explain. I want to be that close to you.” He leans towards you, resting on his hands. He looks confident despite his current situation and it worries you a little. How can he be so sure of himself when he’s crashing on your couch and apologizing to you again for the fourth time in less than a week?

The Jimin you’ve gotten to know recently seems to disappear, leaving on the smooth talking playboy in his wake. He seems too calculated to be genuine. The words he whispers don’t seem like words meant for you. He is him, after all, and money or not he’s still the greatest catch on campus. And you, much to your dismay, are still just you. Unassuming, uninteresting, unexciting you. You’re the plain vanilla cone he’d never ask for if he had the means to get the banana split.

“Why?” you skeptically ask, pulling your knees up to your chest.

Jimin bites his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth while he thinks. “You’re special,” he says. “You’re cute and funny and I like spending time with you. You make me feel like I can be myself with you.”

“But you don’t trust me?” you ask, obviously referring to the elephant in the room. He didn’t tell you he was essentially homeless. How much of himself can he truly be if he was keeping that from you?

“I didn’t want to scare you away, and most girls I… see, don’t get close enough to find out,” he confesses. “I can’t afford to take anyone out right now. I haven’t been able to for a while. But I’m so close to getting enough for an apartment. That’s why I took the TA job; at the end of the semester I should be ready.”

“Jimin,” you start, unsure what to say. You’re still thinking about that goddamned three dollar ice cream cone you threw away.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he tells you, standing up. “I just wanted to be real with you, and thank you for agreeing to let me have the couch for a few days. I’ll let you sleep.”

“Wait!”

As you scramble over yourself to reach out, you find yourself on your knees awkwardly clutching your hand towards your chest. You’re still worried about seeming desperate but you can’t let that stop you now. Jimin turns toward you, but you’re unsure of what you wanted to say. You only know that you want to be closer to him too, that you’re not ready for him to go, that if he leaves now you’ll lie awake for the rest of the night reliving this short conversation.

“Stay,” you plead, nervously twirling the string of your hoodie around your fingers as you sit back against the pillows. “Talk to me?”

“Aren’t you tired?” he wonders.

You hold out your hand and he crosses the room to take it, standing next to your bed. You pat the space next to you and tug him toward it. “Wide awake.”

Your yawn says otherwise.

Jimin smiles, climbing over you to lay by your side on top of your blankets. He looks at you expectantly once he’s settled but it’s too much pressure for you to lead the conversation. You only know that you want to keep hearing his soothing voice. You have no idea what you wanted to say.

“You look cute,” he says, breaking the silence and touching your nose with the tip of his finger. “Sleepy and soft.”

“You look sexy,” you complain, waving his hand away. “I kinda wanna punch you for it.”

He throws his head back in laughter. “So feisty.”

“I can be boring instead,” you jokingly offer, rolling on your side to face him.

He does his best to keep his eyes trained on your face, despite the fact that all he wants to do is let them wander down. “I just want you to be you.”

That sounds fake. Again, you battle against the idea that this is all a farce, some sneaky way to get into your pants once and leave you wanting for the rest of your life. He hasn’t bared himself to you enough for you to trust him, so you pry.

“Why’d your parents cut you off, Jimin?” you ask.

He looks at you for a second, stunned at your boldness. That’s definitely not where he thought this conversation was going. He takes a moment to prepare his response and sighs.

“They have this restaurant. It’s a small place right off the coast: Jeongsik. My great grandparents started it from nothing and now my parents manage it. They want me to take over since I’m the eldest, but I want to move to the city and have my own life. I don’t want to work in their restaurant forever and my brother loves it and is perfectly capable. They love me. I know they’re just trying to teach me a lesson,” he tells you. He sounds unsure of that last bit. It probably has a lot to do with the fact that he’s got nowhere to live and he’s penny pinching for meals and they’re shunning him.

“And what is that lesson, Jimin?” you ask, trying to dig deeper before he slips back into playboy mode.

“That being a part of Jeongsik is my only option if I want to be successful. That I can’t make it without them.”

“Can you?” The question is quiet and unassuming. You only want to know how bad it really is.

He takes a deep breath and taps his fingers anxiously against the fabric of the pillow. “I can. It won’t be the same, it won’t be easy, but I can.”

After giving Jimin a moment to say more, which he doesn’t take, you push him further. With your heart on the line and this miracle of an opportunity with him in your room, you're determined to learn as much as you can. You need to get under his skin. You need to know him, so you can know if you should run.

"What's your plan then?" you question, shifting closer so you're face to face against the pillows.

Jimin smirks at your line of questioning. It seems to break him from his thoughts. “Well,” he begins. “The Village has some one bedrooms opening up at the end of the semester, and by then I’ll be ready to make a deposit and lease one. After that I’ve got one semester left until I graduate. Then I’ll move to the city and live my life how I want.”

“Won’t you miss your family?”

“They still talk to me. They’re just not paying for school. Or my car. Or my food.” His heavy sigh at the end contradicts the lightness with which he revealed all of this to you.

“I’m sorry, Jimin.” You reach for his hand, familiarity in the way it fits with yours.

“It’s okay. I have good friends, and I have…” he trails off, catching himself and looking away with an awkward huff of a laugh.

“What?” you wonder, heart fluttering at the possibility that he was about to say ‘you.’ “What else do you have?”

Jimin looks up at you, rising up on his elbow. His eyes search your face for any hint of rejection. When he finds only hope, his hand moves to cup your cheek. It’s warm, adorned with rings that contrast the temperature of his skin.

“You,” he breathes, moving closer. You watch his gaze dart down to your lips before your own eyelids flutter closed. “I was going to say you,” he confesses before he closes the space between you and lays a soft kiss against your waiting lips.

He pulls away way too fast, leaving you to panic in the aftermath. You thought you had feelings for him before, but now that he’s let you in, now that he has shown you his heart, there is nothing more to deny. You’ve fallen, hard. The realization makes you feel trapped, like a frantic dying bird in a cage. But your captor is kind and beautiful and the flavor he left on your lips is the most divine thing you’ve ever tasted.

“Then say it,” you prompt him, urging him to accept the affection you’ve been so desperate to give him.

He kisses you again in lieu of words, longer, deeper, until his tongue is dragging over yours. You fist the material of his hoodie in your hands, pulling him towards you while you turn on your back. He’s hesitant to get on top of you, afraid he might be taking it too far, but you’re insistent. You pull and he caves willingly, slotting a leg between yours and letting his hand drift from your cheek to the back of your neck.

“I like you,” he pants when he breaks away. It feels like your heart flies up out of your chest and does a lap around the room, flapping its hummingbird wings like the wild thing it is before it crashes back into its place.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” you plead. “You don’t have to pretend just because you’re here now. I’m a big girl. We can just have tonight.”

You say the words but you know if he leaves tomorrow, you’ll cry all day and probably the day after that too. The truth is, you can talk all you want about how you can do this no strings attached, but you know you can’t. Your strings are so attached to him at this point you might as well be metaphorical shibari.

“I mean it,” he whispers, full, wet lips brushing the side of your neck.

You freeze. You were expecting him to drop the charade and just fuck you or something, but in this moment he exudes tenderness and consideration.

“And because I like you, I think I should go back to the couch before we do something we aren’t ready to do.”

“Stay,” you plead. “We don’t have to do anything, just lay with me.”

He slowly nods and reaches over you to turn off the lamp, planting a soft kiss on your cheek as he settles back into place. You wiggle your form down into the covers and he smoothes the hair from your face before tracing his fingers down your arm. You lean in close enough to smell the subtle clean scent of his cologne. Is it cologne? You doubt it knowing what you know now, unless he’s borrowing it from someone else. You still find yourself enjoying it nonetheless. It’s comforting. Sleep begins to claim you just as he slips his fingers into yours and gives you a tiny squeeze.

“Goodnight y/n.”

You think you respond but you’re in that purgatory state between sleeping and being awake, so you can’t be sure. At least you’re eighty percent sure you gave him a squeeze in return.

That’s how Yoongi finds you in the morning: you tucked neatly into your comforter and Jimin laying on top of it beside you, your hands clasped together in the middle.

“UM!” Yoongi shouts from the doorway, loud enough to wake you both.

Startled, you sit up in bed and look around for the source of the shout. “Fuck! Yoon. You didn’t need to scream.”

“I hope you’re not expecting me to keep this from Taehyung,” Yoongi chides, looking from you to Jimin and back. “That would be quite the moral conundrum.”

“For fuck’s sake. It was never Tae. I am not seeing Tae. We are JUST FRIENDS!” You yell the last two words and chuck your pillow at him for emphasis.

“Okay cool, then Jimin can explain to him whatever this is to him. Jimin, he wants you to call him. My phone’s on the table. I’m taking a shower.”

Yoongi disappears from the doorway and an uncomfortable silence settles over the room. In the light of day, you feel nervous and uncertain. Jimin does nothing to ease your anxiety. He just lays there quietly, unsure what to say.

“Do you want breakfast?” You try to smile and sound as chipper as possible.

He sits up finally and turns his back to you. “I should go see Taehyung.”

He moves toward the door and you feel your chest tighten. “Jimin?”

He turns to you from the hallway, and taking in your confused expression, offers you a smile. “We’re good, princess. I’ll be back tonight, then me and you: party time.” He winks before moving out of sight.

Alone once again, you start to question things. Everything. Are you imagining things or did Jimin seem cold when he left? He kissed you last night, didn’t he? Was everything you talked about too much? Does he regret kissing you? Does he regret staying the night with you without getting anything out of it? You can feel your thoughts spiraling out of control, but you can’t stop yourself from putting up the walls you so desperately wanted to keep down forever last night. It obviously didn’t mean anything to him, despite his claim that he likes you. He probably just meant that he’d like to fool around with you. Like he does with everyone else. You can’t let one night beside him make you think you’re special to him, no matter how badly you want to be.

Knowing you won’t make it through the day without driving yourself completely mad with questions and doubts, you dig your old phone and charger out of a drawer and go after Jimin. He’s leaning over the kitchen counter staring down at Yoongi’s phone when you steal his attention.

“Please take this,” you plead, thrusting the phone and charger towards him.

He looks from the device to you and blinks a few times in surprise. “What?”

“It’s a little old, but if your sim card didn’t get damaged I’m sure it will work in this. I kept putting off bringing it to be recycled.” You laugh nervously as you try to place it in his hand. “But now I’m glad I didn’t. Take it.”

“I can’t accept this, princess. It’s too much,” Jimin says, staring down at the object in your hands.

“Take it for me. If I have to go another day without being able to send you memes I’ll die.”

“Memes?” he repeats, sounding baffled.

“Memes, nudes, the weather forecast. Who cares? I wanna text you. Please take it.”

He licks his lips and smirks at your joke. Was it a joke? It’s hard to tell. He accepts it anyway. “Thank you. I’ll call you later?”

“You’d better,” you tease, offering the grandest smile you can manage before retreating with a slow saunter back to your room.

There’s that view again. He could watch your ass sway in those teeny shorts all day. It takes every last ounce of self control he possesses to pick up Yoongi’s phone and dial Tae rather than sprint back into your room and pin you to the bed. It doesn’t stop him from daydreaming about it though, even as his friend answers.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

“What are we doing?” Jimin stands in the sprawling living room of Taehyung and Jungkook’s shared apartment. Both are from wealthy families that are all too ready to give their sons everything that matches the silver spoons in their mouths. They’ve been blessed with a bachelor pad that looks more like a college movie set than anything normal one would find around campus.

“Pick up a controller,” Tae tells Jimin, completely absorbed in the race on their oversized flat screen TV.

Jungkook hasn’t even acknowledged Jimin’s presence yet. Focused doesn’t even begin to describe the way his eyes bore into the television. He doesn’t break from his trance until he wins. Only then does he sit back with a smug grin, dropping the controller in his lap and just barely resisting the urge to gloat.

Taehyung drops his controller too, turning to give Jungkook a congratulatory fist bump. “Take his place,” he says to Jimin.

Jungkook has already vacated his place on the hallowed futon and moved to the row of cup noodles sitting on the counter. The first cup is half empty before Jimin even sits down.

“I suck at these games, Tae,” Jimin grumbles.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to be good. It’s a ploy to get you relaxed enough to talk about y/n.” Taehyung smiles, knowing Jimin can’t refuse now that he’s cornered.

“What about her?” He feigns nonchalance, as if he didn’t just spend last night catching feelings along with your lips between his own.

Taehyung scoffs, half bewildered, half disgusted. “Come on, Jimin. She’s amazing. You like her.”

“I barely know her,” Jimin replies. It’s a lie he can taste like copper on his tongue. He knows your favorite food, where you grew up, what you study, and he’s already programmed your birthday into his borrowed phone so he won’t forget.

Taehyung clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes. “Okay then. If you don’t give a fuck, I’m gonna shoot my shot. She’s funny, and nice, and her pussy is so bomb it makes me wanna get married, so if you’re not gonna do something about that then I will.”

Jungkook cackles from the kitchen. “Did you fuck Jimin’s girl?”

“She’s not my girl,” Jimin grumbles, staring daggers at Jungkook, just as Taehyung says that he did not.

Jungkook takes his armload of cup noodles into his bedroom.

“I know you like her,” Tae prods. “She’s not some materialistic bitch who’s gonna leave you if you can’t afford lavish dates every other day. She’s a good, genuine person. She just wants your time and your attention. Maybe your heart. She doesn’t care about the other stuff.”

“Yeah? So I can bring her back to this futon after I buy her dinner from the dollar menu?” Jimin’s nose starts to tingle, months worth of frustrations finally reaching a breaking point. “I can’t get in a relationship right now and you know she’s not a fuckbuddy kind of girl.

“Right, because I didn’t eat her out in my car for fun last week.” He’d date you in a heartbeat if you wanted him. But he knows it’s Jimin you want and he’s more than happy to push the two of you together to see you both happy. He values friendship above all things.

“If that’s all you want from her, fine. But I think you and I both know it’s not and she’s too good for you to string along. If you’re just gonna break her heart, do it now before she falls any harder for you.”

“Why, so you can swoop in and be the good guy again? So you can get her off in your backseat?” The words are venom dripping from his mouth.

“Bro.”

Jimin softens. Tae is his dearest friend. He knows he only has his best interests at heart.

“I’m sorry.” He pauses and sighs. “We talked about Jeongsik last night. She knows my parents cut me off.”

Taehyung grimaces. “How’d that go?”

“Now she knows I’m not good enough but it didn’t seem to deter her at all.”

“‘Cause you are good enough and now she can see your true worth as a person, which is a thousand times better than the fake worth of money.”

Jimin seems to consider this for a moment but then expresses the concern gnawing at his insides. “What if she really is just another person who wants to idolize me? I’m really into her, but I need it to be more than that.”

“Jimin—”

“What if she’s after the meaningless title of being Park Jimin’s girl... like every other girl that has pursued me lately?” The words make him cringe. He’s humble and kind, not one to throw bouquets at himself, but those thoughts are intrusive and hard to ignore.

“Tch. Do you know her at all? Do you really think that matters to her?”

“No,” Jimin sighs. “But what if?”

“She admires you. You like her. Stop making it so complicated and let go of those ifs. You’ll never know if you don’t try and I want to see you try because you deserve to be happy,” Tae insists, starting a new game. “Now pick up that controller. I wanna kick your ass.”

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

You’ve spent the better part of your Saturday afternoon picking out your outfit for tonight. Yoongi only teased you twice before helping you select something a little bit more slutty than you’d normally pull out for a date. You’re going to a party after all, not some Sunday brunch with your friends.

When it’s almost time for you to meet up with Jimin you find yourself growing increasingly nervous. You run your hand over your thigh and down your calf, testing for any stubble you might have missed in your meticulous hour-long shaving session. On your way back up you tug on your skirt, eyeing it as though your gaze can simply increase its length. When was the last time you wore this dress?

You adjust and fuss over the way your tits fit inside the garment and puff air out of your cheeks. Yoongi squints at you from across the room. Your door is wide open after all.

“Stop worrying so much.” He sighs and clicks his tongue, crossing the room until he can see you in perfect clarity. “You look great.”

“I feel stupid. I should change. Jimin’s gonna think I’m weird if I wear this.” You try to turn and run back to your closet.

Yoongi plants his hands on your shoulders and spins you back to face the full-length mirror hanging over your door. “Look at yourself. Jimin’s gonna think you’re the hottest one at the party. Look at that makeup game.” He gestures to your face. “Wooo! So strong! Wow!”

Your lips twitch into a smile. Yoongi can be so sweet when he’s not busy pretending like he isn’t the softest man on earth.

“What if he doesn’t actually want me?” you ask, strings of doubt still plucking at your insecurity.

“He does,” he says with all the comfort you need in this moment. “I can tell with these kinds of things, you know.”

“That your like, weird sage sense you’re always telling me about? Reading the horoscopes doesn’t make you a fortune teller.”

He laughs. “Don’t be jealous of my power. Have I been wrong before?”

He hasn’t been, at least not with the advice he’s given you.

You exhale a huge breath and cock your head to inspect your appearance one more time. “What if you’re wrong?”

He hums a soft sound before planting a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Then he’s an idiot.”

A knock saves him from the overbearing hug you’re about to give him. He practically sprints towards the door. “That must be him! Pull your skirt up a little, would you? You’re not a nun and it’s gonna ride up anyway.” He pauses with his hand on the deadbolt and drops his tone to a rather loud, strained whisper. “Wait. What underwear are you wearing?”

Your eyes widen and your brows furrow as you angrily march over to your strappy heels and begin to put them on. “Why does it matter?” you whisper back.

“Are they the beige ones?”

“No!” Your hushed tone threatens to break into a shriek. “You know those are my period panties.”

“Please tell me they’re not the green ones.”

“Yoongi!” You get frustrated and lift your skirt just enough to show off a bit of the black lace adorning your buttcheeks as you lift your foot onto the nearby stool to finish setting the strap in place. “Satisfied?”

He breathes a sigh of relief and nods. “Good. Those are good.”

He opens the door faster than you can register the action. Jimin catches the flash of lace and more skin than he’s meant to see as you swing your leg down off the stool and adjust your dress. Heat flushes your face as you meet Jimin’s gaze. His eyes are wide and he licks his lips before nervously clearing his throat. He nonchalantly drops his hands and holds them together in front of his pelvis.

“You-You look good,” he stammers, completely stunned by your appearance.

“Thanks,” you reply with a shy smile. Park Jimin gets flustered? Who’d have thought?

He thought you were beautiful before but he’s never seen you like this. You’re completely decked out and drop dead gorgeous. He’s almost worried he’ll feel inadequate standing next to you tonight but it doesn’t stop him from wanting you by his side, hanging on his arm. He wants everyone to know that he’s there with you.

The pair of you stand there looking at one another and Yoongi slowly turns from Jimin to you, then back to Jimin.

“Have everything?” Yoongi prods, trying to get you to move so he can get on with his evening of relaxation and lazing about.

That seems to break you from your stupor and you nod and walk forward to hook your arm around Jimin’s. Before you get too far Yoongi calls to you and tests your reflexes by tossing your keys. You’ll need those if Yoongi is dead to the world asleep by the time you get home, which is quite possible. You’re not the most dextrous person but Jimin catches them and smiles at you. When you try to take them from his fingertip he moves his hand away and you swipe at the air. He offers to keep them in his pocket and you gratefully oblige. You pull your phone from its confines against your breast and check on the status of your uber with one hand while slipping your other into Jimin’s.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

Jin’s party is already in full swing by the time you arrive. It looks like something out of a movie. There are glowsticks, red solo cups, a buffet table of snacks, and loud music by the large inground pool. People inside and outside of this big ass frat house are grinding up on each other, dancing, and spilling their drinks on one another. It’s a little overwhelming honestly. You’ve never been much of a party person and this is a monster-sized one.

Jimin takes your hand in his and gives you a reassuring smile. “You want a drink, princess?”

“Yeah.” You grin and breathe a sigh of relief, feeling your insides melt at the sound of his voice. You know whatever happens tonight you’ll be okay with him by your side.

Jimin keeps you close all night, drinking and dancing and stealing the occasional quick kiss. It's pretty clear to everyone who's paying attention that there's something going on between you. You came with Jimin, you're there with Jimin, you're leaving with Jimin. Either Jungkook wasn't paying attention, or he just plain doesn't care. The moment Jimin leaves you alone to run to the bathroom, Jungkook steps up behind you in the chair you’re sitting on.

"Hey, y/n!" He smiles, all teeth and sleepy eyes. You can smell the whiskey on his breath when you turn to face him. "You look so pretty tonight."

"Thanks, Kook." You know he's one of Jimin and Tae’s closest friends. If you just hang with him until Jimin gets back, you'll be able to avoid the advances of all the weird guys here you aren't familiar with. "I like your boots," you tell him, looking down.

He follows your gaze to his feet. "Me too, I hope no one barfs on them tonight," he laughs, lifting his face back up to yours. The words are slightly slurred but you’re still able to decipher them.

His eyes definitely linger on your cleavage on their way back up. By the looks of it, he's on the short list of people who might end up barfing on those shoes. He holds his liquor well, but if you had to guess you'd say he's had more than he should have at this point in the night.

"So, I was talking to Taehyung recently," he starts with a mischievous glint in his eyes. The rest of his sentence seems to get lost in translation on the way to his mouth.

"And?" You smile at him and realize he’s probably too drunk to have anything of worth to say but you wait anyway.

"He told me something." Jungkook smiles so big his nose crinkles and he giggles like it’s the biggest secret in the universe.

You puzzle for a moment over what could have him so giddy before remembering that Taehyung is intimately familiar with your o-face. You'd gotten so close with him over the last two weeks that the details of your first time hanging out had completely slipped your mind. Jungkook is definitely about to say something crass.

"What did he tell you?" you ask, fearing you already know the answer.

Jungkook leans in closer so he can whisper in your ear. An amused giggle spills from his lips like he can’t contain the punchline to a joke only he knows. Somehow he gets his tone under control and finally speaks. "He told me your pussy tastes like heaven and what a coincidence," he pauses, "I haven't had dessert."

Jimin finds his way back to you just as you've moved to elbow Jungkook off your chair. Unfortunately, the alcohol in your system has your brain a little fuzzy and you misjudge the distance and location. You end up elbowing Jungkook right in the dick. Hard.

A circle clears around you as Jungkook doubles over in pain. Jimin steps up next to you, looking down at his friend and trying to piece together what might have led to you inflicting bodily harm.

Jungkook goes from bending over, to squatting, to laying on his side on the floor. He rolls onto his back still clutching the jewels despite the audience of people who have stopped to observe.

“I’m gonna throw up,” he squeaks out.

“Watch the boots,” you remind him as Jimin leans down to help him up and leads him towards something he can barf in. Through the crowd of people, you can see him just barely make it to a trash can in the kitchen. Gross.

Jimin gives Jungkook a pat on the back as he retches and reaches over him to grab a handful of jello shots off the counter. He returns with the rainbow of little cups clutched in each hand. The crowd seems to go back to their business of dancing and talking amongst one another, the random altercation just a fleeting moment in the night.

"What'd he do?" Jimin asks, holding his hand out to you so that you can make your selection.

"He came on to me." You shrug, picking a blue cup and popping the lid off.

"That's it? You elbowed him in the balls for hitting on you?" Jimin raises his eyebrows in shock and laughs.

"Well, it was kind of an accident. But," you pause to bring the plastic shot glass up to your lips, "he insinuated that he wanted to go down on me." You dip your tongue into the Jello and swirl it around the perimeter of its plastic casing.

Jimin watches you gather all the Jello up onto your tongue with rapt attention. He's growing so hard watching your tongue work like that. It’s driving him insane. He wants to feel it on him instead. He’s also now acutely aware of how badly he wants to swirl his tongue around your cunt, just like that.

"That makes two of us," he confesses with an enamored sigh. His hands are still full of Jello shots but that doesn’t stop him from holding your face between them.

He fiercely smashes his mouth to yours and you cave to the welcome intrusion of his tongue. It presses against yours, curling around it as he sucks the blue raspberry flavor from your mouth. You drop the empty cup to the floor and reach for his belt instead, pulling him against you until you can feel him pressed up against your stomach, hard and needy. He grinds his pelvis against you to be sure you can feel him.

“You feel that baby?” he asks, his tone low and sultry.

You grind back with a muffled hum. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re practically dry-humping each other next to the crowd of other sweaty, writhing couples. While Jimin likes how this feels, he’d like to regain the use of his hands. Jello shots be damned.

He pulls away for a second and looks around, depositing all but one of the unopened cups into the hands of the next person that walks by before he squeezes the chosen red one out on his tongue. He leans back in and presses his mouth to yours again. You can still taste artificial strawberry on his tongue. You're not even sure he swallowed before you started trying to lick his tonsils but you don't care. You want him now. You need him.

His thoughts are much the same as his free hand wanders down your back, dipping lower for just a second to feel the curve of your ass and squeeze. When you gasp he takes a step back and looks at you through hazy lust-drunk eyes. His lips are red from the gelatinous treat. You’d love to try and suck the color right out of them.

"Princess," he pants, his hands grabbing at your hips.

"Jimin," you breathe back, pulling him closer again. "Come home with me." It's not really an invitation. He'd be coming back with you anyway since he's currently living on your couch, but this has a different meaning and you both know it. It’s a plea for him to take you to bed.

You make out on the front lawn while you wait for the uber. You make out in the back of the uber on your way home. You make out on the way up the stairs and you leave a heart shaped love bite on his neck while he uses your keys to open the door. You make out pressed against the kitchen counter, and in the hallway.

Yoongi watches the pair of you act like he’s invisible as you stumble your way around the apartment. He has a spoonful of Fruit Loops half-lifted to his gaping mouth and finally takes his bite when you’ve made it to your room. Thank god you closed the door.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

Jimin isn't as shy this time about laying his weight over you once you’ve dropped down onto your bed. You’re warm and he seeks the heat of your body as your hands explore the taught muscles of his chest. They dance around his belt, slipping up over the curve of his perfectly round ass so you can squeeze and pull him against you, inviting him to grind his solid cock into you. Your movements get slower and more focused when you unbutton his shirt. He tugs it off his shoulders and throws it to the floor before helping you pull that tiny excuse of a dress over your head.

You're thanking your lucky stars you had the foresight to put on a matching set, despite how foolishly hopeful it felt at the time. The way Jimin is drinking you in wrapped in nothing but a little bit of black lace is making your head spin, or maybe that's the alcohol.

He sits back on his heels beside you, trailing his fingertips from your throat to the valley between your breasts. He skims over your belly button then side sweeps over your hip and down your thigh, leaving goosebumps in the wake of his touch.

"Wanna take those heels off, princess?" he asks, scooting toward them on his knees.

"I can do it," you insist, planning on making a show of dropping what's left of your modesty. You aren't counting on the way the room turns when you stand up too fast. Luckily, Jimin's reflexes are quick and his hands on your hips steady you before you can actually fall. Standing up is also doing something terrible to your stomach. It rolls and clenches and your anxiety skyrockets.

Parties aren't really your thing, and while Jimin might be drunk he is damn good at controlling it. On the contrary, it's becoming increasingly apparent that you are completely hammered.

"You okay?" Jimin asks, concern dripping from his tone. He stands up and turns you both so you can sit on the edge of your bed.

"I think... I'm drunk," you confess, unable to explain why you suddenly feel like crying.

"I think you're right, baby," he agrees, squatting down to unbuckle the ankle straps on your heels. "Let's get you some water."

Your stomach flips again and time slows as you feel the contents of the evening rise in the back of your throat. Panicking, you look to Jimin with wide eyes and a hand flying up to your mouth. He spins around looking for anything to catch what's surely coming and upends your little trash can. Candy wrappers and old class notes fall to the floor. He thrusts the can under your face just as a rainbow of Jello shots and reappears.

"I'm so sorry," you cry between heaves, tears streaking your make-up down your face.

"Shhh," Jimin soothes, gathering your hair away from your face. When he's sure you've finished, he disappears from the bedroom with the offending trash can and you're left with your horrible, alcohol twisted thoughts.

He's going to think you're pathetic and disgusting. Why on earth did you think you could drink that much?

Jimin returns with a glass of water before you can get much further into your self-deprecation.

"You're never gonna fuck me now," you blabber, your filter lost. Your thoughts are a jumble of sadness and muddled lust.

Jimin laughs. "Well, I'm definitely not gonna fuck you like this. I didn't realize you were this drunk," he softly says. It's a caring statement, not even a little bit condescending.

You should be grateful that he wants you sober for sex, but it only makes you cry harder because you really just want him so badly and you're absolutely certain you've ruined your chances beyond repair. So, you do the only thing that makes sense right now and cry harder.

Jimin wraps his arms around you and leans close to your ear. "I want to, you know. I want to lay you down and touch you all over." He presses a soft kiss to the side of your neck. "I want to taste you, feel you. I want to be inside you so badly, but not like this."

"Please," you whine.

"Sober up first, okay?" he coaxes. "Can I help you get some pajamas? Brush your teeth?"

"Okay," you sniffle.

Jimin smooths his hand up your back, tracing the black lace band of your bra with the tip of his finger. “Do you want to take this off?”

You nod, reaching behind you to unfasten the clasp while Jimin reaches down to the floor for the button down shirt he discarded. He averts his eyes while you shed your bra, then holds his shirt open for you. You slip into it but don’t bother to button it up before walking to your door. He helps you get to the bathroom but you insist on doing it yourself so you can clean up and assess just how fucked up you really look right now.

When you close the door behind you, he makes sure to quietly apologize to Yoongi, who is still scrubbing the trash bin Jimin brought out earlier. Yoongi reaches into the cabinet for the bottle of Advil and gestures to a glass of water already on the counter.

Jimin waits for you to open the door and when you finally do he's relieved that you haven't fallen asleep. You've washed the makeup from your tear-streaked face and brushed your teeth. You've even pulled your hair back so it's no longer in the way. You look at him through a hazy apologetic lens as he offers you Advil and water. The last thing you want to do is ingest anything but if it will help you in the morning, you'll try it for his sake.

The journey from the bathroom back into your room is a blur. All you can think about is crawling back into bed and sleeping this awful feeling away. You struggle with the covers for a moment until Jimin helps you slide underneath them.

"I'm sorry. Don't hate me," you plead in a weak voice.

"Why are you sorry? I don't hate you," he assures you, sitting on the edge of the bed.

He's shirtless. He could have been naked pounding your pussy stupid if you didn't overdo it on the drinks. You hate yourself a little bit for botching this chance, but if he could just put his arms around you again maybe you’d feel okay, like you didn’t blow it.

"Will you hold me?" you ask.

“Of course,” he replies softly.

The light in the room disappears and the mattress sinks behind you. His arms wrap themselves around your waist and his fingers twine with yours.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers when you squeeze his hand.

The heat of his breath brushes against your neck but you don’t close your eyes. You’re too dizzy. Instead you focus on the soothing rhythm of his breathing until the weight of your eyelids wins out against the nausea and sleep finally claims you.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

Your ringtone wakes you late, when the sun in your room is far too bright to be any time before ten. The sound is grating and irritating and you pull your pillow over your head to block it out. Jimin reaches for the phone, you can feel his weight shift and the heat of his skin when he hovers over you.

"Hello?" His voice is gruff and coarse with sleep.

Peeking out from beneath the pillow, you look over to him. His eyes are still closed and your phone is laying on his bare chest, speaker on and screen lit up.

"Gimme your bae," Jungkook's voice calls through the phone.

"She's sleeping," Jimin tells him. Looking in your direction, he meets your eyes and smiles.

You vaguely remember him making you drink more water last night, giving you Advil, and tucking you in. It's a very pleasant surprise to find that you aren’t horribly hungover.

"Wake her up," Jungkook whines. "Bro. She hit me so hard."

Jimin laughs. "You deserved it."

"I know," Jungkook agrees. "That's why I'm calling. Can I talk to her please?"

"You're on speaker."

"Hi, y/n. I got your number from Tae."

"Hi Kook," you croak.

"I'm sorry I was a douche last night. I get stupid when I drink whiskey."

"I accept your apology. Don’t do it again. How's your dick?" you ask, scooting closer to Jimin and laying your cheek on his chest. He wraps his arm around you and kisses the top of your head. The gesture makes you feel warm all over. He likes you.

"It hurts but I'll live. Sorry. For real. Do you guys wanna go eat later?" he asks you both.

Jimin answers this time. "Maybe. We have stuff to do first. I'll text you." He hangs up before Jungkook can say more.

“What stuff are we doing, hmm?” you question with a giggle, trying to play coy.

“Depends how you’re feeling, princess,” Jimin replies, leaning over you again to deposit your phone on your nightstand. He lingers above you, prompting the cautious exploration of your fingers on his chest.

Suddenly, you are acutely aware of the awful taste in your mouth. In fact, you feel gross all over. Not exactly the way you want to experience sex with Jimin for the first time.

“I’m sorry about last night,” you tell him, wiggling out from under his body. “You must think I am the worst, most unattractive human.”

“No,” Jimin says with a giggle. “I think you’re sexy and sweet. I really like you y/n.”

“Nobody likes me.” You scoff at him in disbelief.

“It’s rude to call people nobodies, don’t you think? Especially when they’ve just confessed their feelings,” Jimin teases, sitting up beside you.

“Well, let me at least brush my teeth,” you tell him, holding his shirt closed around you while you rise from the bed. You step around the clean trash can that’s been placed at the side of your bed thanks to Yoongi, noting that there is also a neat row of condoms on your nightstand and a note that reads ‘be done by 5 i wanna watch Dragonball Z after work.’

You laugh and quickly take care of your morning bathroom routine in record time so you can make use of Yoongi’s gift.

When you come back to your room, Jimin is watching you. His lips are drawn down in a pout, his eyes are half closed, and his chest, still bare, rises and falls heavily with each breath he takes as he rakes his eyes over your bare legs and up. His shirt hangs open on your body, leaving a strip of skin visible from your throat to your panties. He licks his lips when your fingers drag a slow line up that strip.

Parting the soft fabric further, you let it fall from your shoulders and pool around your feet. Jimin sits up for a better view and you wait for embarrassment to strike. It never happens. Instead, his gaze emboldens you. He looks wrecked already and he hasn't even touched you yet.

“So beautiful,” he whispers.

His assurance pulls you forward, one foot in front of the other until you’re close enough to touch and his hands are on your hips as you climb over him. He leans back under you as you push forward, connecting your lips with a force that borders on overeager. You can feel him smile against your lips and self-consciously, you will yourself to calm down. You have all day, there’s no need to rush.

When your kisses become soft and patient Jimin decides to take the initiative. He has to have you. He wants to be inside you. He sits up and sinks his hands into the flesh of your ass and begins to pull you down so he can grind up against your clothed cunt. When you moan his eyes roll back for a second and he buries his face into your neck to muffle the sound of his own. His tongue works in circles against you, giving you a taste of what’s to come before sucking a spot that has you burying your hand in his hair and grinding yourself down on him with need. He licks a hot stripe to your ear so he can whisper in it. In an instant he’s flipping you around on your back and grinding his pelvis against yours, allowing the dark desire to consume him.

“You like that, princess? You like feeling my cock on that sweet pussy of yours?”

“Yeah,” you whine, circling your legs around his hips. You can’t manage much more than that breathy reply, he is intoxicating and already you are drunk on his fumes.

“I hear it’s the sweetest. Made me so fucking jealous to hear Tae talk about you like that. You’ll let me have a taste, won’t you? Let me show you how good I can make you feel?”

“God did Tae just go around telling everyone?” you pause when the friction rubs against your clit just right. “Oh fuck,” you moan, imaging the pillowy soft press of his lips on your more intimate areas.

He chuckles in response. “No,” he assures you. “Just Jungkook and me. Don’t worry,” he says, persuading you with a careful roll of his hips that has his shaft parting your folds despite the layers of clothing between you. “He won’t talk about it anymore, and you’ll forget all about it by the time we’re done here. I’m gonna eat your sweet little cunt until mine are the only lips you remember.”

“Please,” you whimper, drawing him into a needy kiss.

His fingers dip into the band of your panties and he teases and tugs at them until you’re squirming and begging him to take them off. His lips trail wet kisses down to your breasts and he pauses to take your nipple into his mouth as he carefully works your last remaining piece of clothing down your legs.

Nudging your legs apart again, he settles between them, ghosting the pads of his fingers up the inside of your thigh as he drags your nipple gently with his teeth. He switches to repeat the action on the other side and cautiously slips a finger between your folds, parting them and testing your wetness. Much to his delight, he already finds you soaked.

“Jimin,” you breathe out. “Please.”

“Be patient for me, princess. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” He sits back on his knees between your thighs and uses his thumbs to smear your arousal over your lips. He groans something deep and tortured when he spreads them open.

“Y/n, holy fuck,” he whispers. “You’re perfect. So perfect.”

Heat rises to your cheeks at his praise. It feels like some kind of worship the way he looks down at your cunt, watching his fingers disappear inside you. His satisfied hum is like a hymn to the divine way your hot, slick walls squeeze him, a prayer to the mere idea of having that wet heat wrapped around his needy cock.

“Tae didn’t tell me you were so tight,” Jimin admits, looking up at you under his eyelashes.

“He only used his mouth,” you tell him, throwing your arm over your eyes. “I’ll never forget his lips if you keep talking about him.”

That seems to spark a fire in Jimin. His eyes grow dark and wild. He wants to ruin you. He presses his lips to the inside of your thigh and begins sucking marks into the soft flesh while his fingers continue to pump inside of you. He slowly works his way down, making sure the red spots he leaves behind are sufficient enough to last for days. He makes sure you’ll have the reminder of his face between your legs every time you look down.

“Jimin don’t tease,” you beg, bucking your hips up to seek the warmth of his breath.

“I’m not teasing,” he chides. “I am savoring.” He curls his fingers and presses his thumb to your clit, making your legs jolt. “Trust the process.”

“Jimin--,” you start again, but you’re cut off by the first touch of his lips. It’s barely there, just the ghost of a kiss on your mound. It’s immediately followed by the flat of his tongue, pressing down as he moves it lower, slipping his fingers out as he descends. His tongue parts your folds instead, circling your dripping hole and then dipping inside it.

“Mmmmm,” he hums. “Fuck, you’re sweet.” He spreads you with his thumbs again and goes back for more, lapping at your wet cunt, swirling around your clit, sucking your folds into his lips. But it’s not just the action, it’s the drive behind it. He’s insatiable, moaning at the taste, bucking his hips into the mattress when you whine for him.

Your fingers tangle through his silver hair, twisting and pulling as he devotes himself to your undoing. He moves with you when you grind up against his jaw, stealing a glance up at your face. Jimin feels his cock twitch at the sight of you; breasts heaving, mouth hanging open, eyes squeezed shut. He’s leaking so much precum he can feel it soaking through his boxer-briefs. He’s almost afraid he’s going to lose it and cum in his pants.

“You gonna cum for me, princess?” he asks, lifting his face to push his fingers back inside. He pumps them hard, curling and searching for that elusive spot while he presses soft kisses to your clit. He alternates between flicking his tongue and rubbing against it with his lips, pausing every few seconds to whisper encouragements with warm breath puffed over your swollen bud.

“Come on, baby. Do it for me. Cum for me, princess. Let me taste it.”

“Please Jimin. Pleeeeease. I need you to suck it. Suck it harder,” you beg. “Right there. There! Don’t stop! Please! I’m so close.”

Jimin keeps steady for you despite your trembling thighs. He pounds your g-spot while he sucks as hard as you can take. Your mind goes totally blank, consumed by an orgasm so powerful you can see fireworks bursting behind your eyelids. Heat spreads from your core down your legs, up your spine.

“I’m cu— cumming— Jimiiiiin!” you cry, legs trapping his head like a vice. Your fingers leave his hair in favor of squeezing at your breasts as you ride out your orgasm. You buck your hips when he doesn’t let up after you’ve come down from your high.

“Take your pants off,” you pant, shoving at his head.

He finally pops off with a grin, his chin and lips covered in your slick.

“What if I’m not finished down here?” he teases, dipping his head back down to lick a stripe up your slit. Your whole body jumps when he touches your clit with the tip of his tongue. “Oh?” he feigns shock. “Sensitive?” he smugly asks, going back for one more taste.

“I wanna suck your cock,” you tell him, lazily pulling your legs up and turning your body away from him. You keep your eyes on him as you turn just enough to hang your head off the edge of the bed.

“Are you for real right now?” he asks, standing slowly. The tent in his pants is obscene.

“Please, Jimin. Just a little bit?”

“You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he sighs, tugging the zipper down on his jeans and letting them and his underwear fall to his ankles. He kicks them off and steps in front of you, smiling down at your upside down face, a little dumbfounded to have you wanting and willing to have him like this.

Your mouth waters at the sight of the swollen mauve tip standing at attention. He’s rock hard and so thick you’re not sure you can take him in your mouth, or your cunt for that matter. You’re glad he warmed you up with his fingers because you’re already clenching tight at the thought of that thick cock splitting you in two.

He reaches for the row of condoms as you take him in your hand and give him a few pumps. Just as he rips off one of the packets, you guide him towards the entrance of your mouth. You swirl your tongue against the tip and he drops everything, focusing on the way you tease him instead.

He inhales sharply. “Fuck. Who’s the tease now?”

You run your tongue along his shaft and smile when you get to the tip, giving it a quick kiss. “I’m savoring. What happened to trusting the process?”

He drags his lip through his teeth and clenches his jaw as you put his patience to the test but lucky for him you’re kind. He doesn’t have to wait long. You close your lips around him a moment later, reaching around his hips to guide him deeper, controlling the depth of his thrusts until he learns your limits and leans over you. With his hands on your breasts he rolls his hips. He can feel the tip of his cock bumping the back of your throat. He moans when you gag around him.

“That’s it, princess. Suck it. Just like that,” he praises.

Jimin is careful with his pace, and tender with his touch when he twists your nipples. He thinks he’s in control. He thinks he can take this just fine, despite the fact that your mouth feels fucking incredible. It’s when he watches you part your thighs and slip your hand between them to finger yourself while he fucks your mouth that he realizes he’s got none of the control he was so certain of. His balls tighten and he pulls out quickly and squeezes them, pinching at the tip of his cock and leaving you gasping for the breath you couldn’t catch with him in your mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. I need a second,” he huffs, eyes closed, standing perfectly still. He breathes slowly and deeply. If you could peek into his brain you’re sure you’d see any number of boring things trying to distract him from the image of you fucking yourself with your fingers while you sucked his cock. It’s futile. He’s certain he’ll see it in his dreams.

“Did I do something wrong?” you wonder, shuffling around so that you’re laying back on your pillows.

Jimin ignores your question. He knows you’re well aware he almost came in your mouth. “I need to be inside you like, now,” he says, picking up the condom again.

You watch him tear it open and roll it on with his one knee pressed into the mattress and his other foot on the floor.

"Come on then," you coax, opening your legs for him to crawl between.

He pushes two fingers inside you on his way up, dragging them out slowly and smearing your wetness around your pussy before he lines his cock up and sinks in to the hilt in one smooth press.

You gasp as he fills you, feeling the stretch of his girth, and he hushes your whimpering and brushes his nose against yours. "I'm sorry baby," he soothes. "I'll go slow." He seals the promise with a kiss before hiking your legs up high around his waist and wrapping his arms around you.

He lies still like this, waiting for the green light while he kisses you breathless. He moves to your neck when you break away to inhale, sucking more little bruises in the skin there. "Tell me when."

"Move," you moan. "Move. Fuck me."

Jimin pulls out slowly, leaving just the tip inside. He pushes back in just as slow, repeating the action several times until it looks like you're about to cry.

You need it so badly. It feels cruel to have him rocking so gently inside you when all you want is to be ruined by him. "Harder," you plead.

"Are you sure?"

"Don't make me beg," you whine.

"What if I want you to beg?" he jokes, dropping his hips against you. It's almost hard enough to satisfy you.

"Then I'll beg."

Jimin groans, dropping his head to your shoulder as he sets a brutal pace. He pounds into you, forcing the air from your lungs with his powerful thrusts, rolling his hips like his life depends on it. "You're so fucking good for me, princess. So tight. Feels so fucking good."

"Go faster," you tell him, grabbing a handful of his ass.

Shifting higher on his knees, he picks up the pace. Sweat beads on his forehead and over his lip. It beads in the dip of his cupid's bow and you lick it away before raking his bottom lip through your teeth.

“You feel my fat cock baby?" he asks. You moan in response pulling your legs higher so he can fuck you even deeper. "You like the way I fill you, don't you? Want me to fuck you full of my cum? Take it," he grunts. "You take it so fucking well. You gonna cum for me again, baby?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts.

Jimin pulls out when you start to clench, not quite edging you but stealing the pleasure you were high on nonetheless. You whine at the loss of him, walls fluttering wildly around nothing.

"Can we try something?" he asks, lifting your legs and putting them to the side.

"What did you have in mind?" you wonder. You reach for his cock but he's already moving, nudging at your hips until you turn.

"Up on your knees for me, princess," he instructs. He kneels behind you once you're in position and smooths his hand up your spine, guiding you gently down onto your elbows. “Is this okay?”

“It’s good,” you assure him, wiggling your hips a little to get him moving again.

He teases your slit with the tip of his cock, dragging it through your folds and rubbing it against your clit. Finally, he pushes back inside you, coaxing a fresh wave of arousal with the stretch of his girth. It’s deeper like this and impossibly you feel even more full than you did before.

“Oh, Jimin,” you sigh, dropping your face into your folded arms. “Jimin.”

“Good?” He folds himself over you, pressing his chest to your back and sliding his hands from your hips to your breasts.

You thrust yourself back into him as you answer. “Perfect. You?”

It takes him by surprise but he follows your lead. He drives himself into your cunt while massaging your breasts and kissing your back. “Fuck, y/n…” he moans, letting his teeth drag over your shoulder before he bites down.

You hiss at the sting and he soothes it with his tongue and puckered lips.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous taking my cock like this. Feel how deep I am. You’re squeezing me so tight, baby.”

“Jimin? Jimin, I need—,” you gasp out between thrusts.

“What, princess? What do you need?” he questions, releasing a breast to play with your clit instead. “Want me to pull your hair? Want me to fill you with my cum?”

“I wanna ride you.”

“Oh, fuck.” Jimin pulls back immediately.

He lays down beside you and grabs at your waist, guiding you over his cock and holding on tight as you drop your weight and take him completely. Swiveling your hips, you set a pace slow and steady. Jimin’s thumbs rubs soft circles into your skin as you move.

“Go faster,” he urges, unable to keep his hips from rising to meet yours.

You shake your head ‘no’ and continue with your slow rolling pace.

“Please, y/n. Ride it like you wanna cum with me.”

Smirking devilishly, you slow down even more and lean over him with your hands on either side of his head.

He looks down, watching your breasts sway and the way his cock disappears over and over.

“Fuck, y/n. PLEASE,” he whines, roughly grabbing your hips and pounding up into you.

Your startled laugh quickly turns into desperate cries of his name. His cock hits your g-spot directly. It feels so good you don’t even think you need him to touch your clit to make you cum. But he does. He pinches your bud between his fingers while he slams into you, growling and moaning and begging you to cum with him.

“I’m close,” he grunts, licking his fingers and rubbing furiously at your clit.

“Me too,” you whine. “I’m gonna—”

You don’t have time to finish the thought as he takes you over the edge with him. He slams his head back against the pillows as he pumps his hips and cums to the wild pulsing of your orgasm. Your cunt milks every last drop from him and you cry his name, clutching his wrists and letting your head fall back so you can wail your pleasure at the ceiling.

Jimin gasps, picking up his head to look down at how your pussy spreads open around him. Your slick cum coats the condom and his mouth waters, remembering the sweet tang of your taste. You’ve barely stopped grinding on him when he sits up to push you down on your back.

Pulling out, he kneels beside the bed and pulls you to the edge by your legs so he can gently lick you clean. He exhales a hot and heavy breath, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before standing up to peel the loaded condom off his softening cock.

“That was… wow,” you pant, staring up at the ceiling for a moment as you try to regain your breath.

He’s already back at your side, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you towards his chest.

“Yeah,” he agrees while softly combing his fingers through your hair. He’s tired.

You smile against his sweaty chest and plant a soft salty kiss against him. Through the corner of your eye you see the row of untouched condoms on your nightstand. “We’ve got a lot left. Wanna go again?”

He hums a deep throaty sound and laughs when your hand falls to his limp cock. “I want to, but I need a bit to recharge. I can make you cum again while we wait. Do you want that, baby?”

“I always want that. But you don’t have to.”

The groan in his throat sounds croaky as he leans in to kiss your forehead. “I want to.”

He reaches down to wedge his fingers between your thighs and your whole body jumps at the sensitive sensation. How dare your body betray you in this moment?

“Seems like you might need time to recharge too,” he teases while nuzzling against the top of your head and squeezing you in a warm embrace against him. “I’m okay with just laying here and holding you.”

“Yeah?” You smile and cross your leg over his to get more comfortable. “Mmm. You can always help me study for the next test while you’re here.”

Laughter bubbles from his throat. “Are you trying to seduce me for answers to the exam? You know I don’t grade them, right.”

You roll your eyes and scoff, barely containing your giggles as you look up at him. “I don’t think I need to seduce anyone for answers. My head feels a little clearer now.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” he prods while playfully ghosting his fingers down your side.

“Because I know I can be distracted outside of class now instead. I mean, if you wanna keep doing this,” you explain while nervously drumming your fingertips on his chest. “I know I’m not anything special, but—”

Jimin lifts your chin and pulls you into a deep kiss. “You are,” he whispers when he pulls away.

You lick your lips and blink a few times. “I was gonna say you make me feel like I am the most special vanilla ice cream cone on the planet.”

His shy, warm smile fills your stomach with butterflies even as he makes his joke. “Want me to lick you up?”

“And so much more.”

It’s a weighted confession. You sit up to look at him so he knows this. He purses his lips and casts his away. He was avoiding this conversation.

“I don’t know how much more I can give you. I want to be what you deserve, but things are so hard right now. I don’t know that I can be someone who’s good enough for you. You deserve to be showered in gifts and taken on dates. You deserve to be given flowers every day. I don’t even have a car to take you somewhere for a vacation. I’m not sure I can be what you want.”

“Just be yourself,” you state plainly, cupping your hand around his jaw. “That’s what I want. So far I like the person I see. I like you, the real you.”

“I like you too,” he blurts, eyes snapping back to meet yours. “But I can’t afford—”

You press a finger to his lips. “I don’t need expensive dates or fancy gifts. I don’t need you to take care of me— well, last night was the exception and you didn’t need money for that. I just want you to be with me. Talk with me. Spend time with me. Maybe have lots of sex? I don’t know, we can figure out the rest later.” You laugh, embarrassed by your own boldness.

“You see everything that I am and you still want me.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re amazing. Now I know for sure you’re too good for me. But,” he pauses and slips his hands into yours, “I want to keep seeing you. I like talking to you and the more time I spend with you, the more certain I feel about the choices I’ve made. No one’s ever made me feel so free. I want to hold onto that feeling. I want to hold onto you.”

You tell yourself not to cry as you straddle his waist and hover above his lips. “I’m yours then. Are you mine?”

He catches your lips between his and buries his hands in your hair. “I’m yours.”

[damonsvftie]

𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜✨

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST

MEGA MASTERLIST

Summary: it’s that time of the year where everyone has been pulled under the mistletoe but what happens when your the only one who hasn’t?

Note: h2gkmo I love this Sm also it’s 3.8K WORDS

Warnings: none I believe apart from kissing

September, October and November, has already flew by so quickly as if it were a blur and I can’t seem to comprehend that its currently December.

Not that I dislike this certain month but it’s just the whole ‘mistletoe’ thing that I’m not quite fond of. Last week, some boy from Slytherin managed to get a girl he liked from Hufflepuff under the mistletoe, and let’s just say, the tension was absolutely incredulous.

Being a Hufflepuff, she kindly made up an excuse and hurried out of the the great hall. If that were me, I would probably shove my plate full of food down their pants. I mean the audacity though?

It’s that time of year again where Hogwarts is practically covered in a blanket of snow and every single student walks down the corridor with a soft knitted sweater hugging their bodies tightly to stop them from catching a cold. Well mostly everyone, since Malfoy wears very extra stuff during this season.

The last day, I saw Harry snogging Cho Chang under the plant. Okay maybe it wasn’t snogging, but they still kissed! And Hermione had told me all about some oaf from RavenClaw who tried to do the same to her but it didn’t really work out since she smacked him across the face with a heavy book.

—

“I’m so glad no ones tried that on me yet,” I mumbled le as I tucked into a plate full of food.”it’s absolutely ridiculous! I mean the audacity they have to think I’d want to kiss them. I have to puke,” complained Hermione, her facing saying it all. From the corner of my eye, I saw Ron Weasley gulping hard as he tugged at his collar. “You know.. sometimes both of you are very scary,” making me roll my eyes at him.

“It’s not even that bad, it’s just a kiss,”. The way Harry blatantly blurted that out as if it’s the tiniest thing in the world while he drummed his fingers on the table. “You can’t chat! I saw you snogging Cho Chang a day ago,” I argued. Harry’s cheeks were beginning to flush a shade of crimson as he swiftly diverted the attention onto me again.

“And? At least it was Cho and not someone like Pansy Parkinson, besides even Lavenders after Ron,” he mumbled looking annoyed. “Bloody hell I almost forgot! She can’t seem to stay away from me. She’s like a leech,” he complained, his lips curving into a frown.

Hermione shut her book and put it down. “Y/n, hasn’t anyone tried to get you under the mistletoe yet?” Her lips curving into a small smile, preventing me from shoving a forkful of food down my throat, my hand in mid air. “Uh- no,” my cheeks slightly blushed in embarrassment . For some reason my response made Ron giggle to himself.

Irritated, I smacked him behind his head causing him to yelp. “Ow! What was that for?” His brows furrowing as he rubbed the spot I had hit him in. “You dare laugh at me Ronald Weasley and I won’t hesitate to curse you!”

“Both of you please! I’m trying to finish this book off,” Hermione’s facial expressions exasperate as her eyes bore deep into our souls, intimidating us until we both shut up. Huffing under my breathe I continued to pick at my food until someone spoke once again.

“Hey! Give me my book back!”. To my surprise, Draco Malfoy stood towering over Hermione, his book in her hands as he held it high. Her attempts to try and grab it back were failing as she jumped high on the spot. “Malfoy give her book back,” spoke Harry through gritted teeth. “How about no? Besides Potter, this is between me and her so stay out of it,” he sneered.

“Come on Malfoy, stop being such a git,” defended Ron. Whatever the boys had said didn’t really matter to him because of course it went through one ear and out the other. “Oi! Give. Her. Book. Back,” my nostrils flaring as I folded my arms against my chest.

Unexpectedly, he started making owl noises just like the day he was attacked by Buckbeak, slowly striding towards me as his eyes darted up and down at my figure, supposedly ‘checking me out’. “why... what are you going to do y/l/n?” His face inches away from mine. I felt his cool,minty breathe fanning against my face causing my eyes to flutter rapidly in intimidation. Everyone in the great hall had fixed their attention onto the commotion we were causing, making owl noises every time one of us firedback. “Gone silent now have you?” The tone in his voice mocking as he took a step back and swiftly turned on his heels.

I don’t know what I was thinking, but I pulled him back towards me, one of my hands cupping his face as my lips pressed against his instantly. My other hand, smoothly grabbed the book out of his palms, shoving him back once I got what I wanted. “You were saying?” My voice sarcastic as he stared at me, mouth hung slightly open In awe.

Tossing the book back to Hermione, we all sat back down, the golden trio gasping under their breaths. “Did you just KISS Malfoy?” Rons voice exaggerated as his eyes shot wide open. “Yes- Yes I did,”

—

As we walked the hogwarts grounds, Harry and Ron didn’t stop annoying me about Draco. “So let me get this right, you kissed Malfoy to get mione’s book back? Blimey you have some guts don’t you?” A giggle trailed behind his irrelevant question.

I was down right agitated. I paused in the middle of no where, my lips pursing into a line. “I don’t know why both of you think it’s so funny and or hard to believe I kissed him? It’s not like I like him or something!” My voice slightly laced with anger as I strided off into the other direction, ditching the trio.

I could heard Hermione calling after me but it was too late. I was gone. If I were being realistic, I didn’t know where I was headed to as I entered hogwarts, twisting and turning through the dingy,dark corridors until I bumped into something rock hard, resulting in me too lose my balance and collapse.

“Look where your going,” I groaned as I sat up on the cold floor. “You bumped into me, not the other way round,”. It couldn’t be. I recognised that same bitter and unpleasant voice. My eyes trailed up to the figure that looked upon me from down below as I whimpered underneath him in pain.

It was Malfoy.

He stuck his hand out in offer for me too take it but of course I didn’t. Pushing his hand out of the way, I scrambled to my feet my teeth gritting. “Why are you ALWAYS in my way?!” I yelled, although I was lucky enough that the corridors were deserted.

“Me in your way? YOUR the one who keeps getting in MY way! Don’t get too ahead of your self y/l/n!” He firedback immediately, his face scrunched up.

My hands found their way to his collar, fisting at the material, pulling him close until our noses were almost touching. “Listen here Malfoy, stay. Out. Of. My. Way,” I protested my breathing heavy.

His serious face turned looser as a small smirk spread across his face. His hands travelled up my visage, his thumb lightly grazing my lip, tugging it down, the flesh of my lips revealing.

What was he doing?

My breathing hitched, while my heart did a flip in my chest. My grip on his collar slackened as my hands fell by my side before I walked right past him.

—

I should have known better. The more I added fuel to his fire, the more frustrating he was going to become. It was slowly starting to become a very common thing for the two of us to have an argument with each other, while everyone just rolled their eyes at us, since it was starting to get out of hand and become a regular thing.

Something inside me told me that he thoroughly enjoyed bickering with me even when I had at least tried to be civil with him.

“I just wanted say.. maybe we should be civil,” my words sincere as a half grin crept up across his face. “You want US to be civil? Why.. you think I’m going to stop?” He taunted as his smile dropped, his face serious than ever. “Yes- you know why? Because I’m mature unlike you. If I’m honest I don’t understand what pleasure you find in fighting me all the time,” my eyes turning a darker shade as I clenched my fists by my side.

His facial features turned soft almost as if it were putty as I finished my sentence with a sigh. His body instantly loosened up as he took a few steps away from me. “Your right. I’ll leave you alone-“ he muttered before disappearing in the dark.

Was I seeing things or did Draco actually agree with me for once? Was he actually going to put an end to his daily dose of torture?

—

“Did he actually offer to stop and leave you alone?” The confused looks on their faces. “Yep... but it’s quite unbelievable,” the look on my face twisting the more I thought about it. “Wait Wait Wait! Let me get this right... Malfoy’s going to leave you alone for the rest of your life? Bloody hell thats fabulous!” Ron’s lips transitioning into a wide grin as he took a sip out of his cup.

“Why are you so happy? He said he’d leave ME alone not YOU,” I answered back , trying to put Ron off, making his face droop. Within seconds I decided to change the topic so I didn’t have to fight Weasley.

“Anyways- So- hows your defence against the dark arts thing going?” I questioned Harry as he swallowed his food. “Well- we haven’t come up with a proper name for it but we think it should be named ‘Dumbledores army’ and I guess it’s going alright,” he sighed right after causing me to raise a brow. “Somethings off- what’s wrong Harry?” My voice gentle as I glanced at the other two.

“Harry’s worried someone’s going to bail out on us to Umbridge,” the fearful expression on hermiones face explaining it all. Did I mention that Dolores Umbridge was claimed to be the headmistress of the school? We were all lucky enough that she hadn’t created any sort of ridiculous rule in which we were no longer able to talk to our friends.

Everyone apart from a bunch of slytherins, who were named the ‘inquisitorial squad’, including that evil little cockroach Malfoy, loathed her. The trio had managed to gain access to the room of requirements in which they all hosted sessions where they practised spells such as how to unleash a patronus charm.

“Y/n why don’t you join? The more the merrier besides we need to prepare incase anything happens,” the tone in hermiones voice soft. “Guys.. I don’t know.. what if you know.. Umbridge finds out?” I asked wearily, fingers drumming the table.

Disappointment smeared across their faces. I couldn’t disappointment my friends like that. “You know what? Fine, I’m in!” I blurted as their mundane facial expressions changed into goofy smiles and wrinkled eyes.

—

“Expecto Patronum!” The tip of my wand unleashed a faint sort of white vapour which slowly transitioned into a p/n. “Blood hell y/n! You got that right on the first try,” remarked Ron as he stared up at my patronus in awe.

Suddenly, the chandelier started to swing and the floor beneath us was shaking under our feet. Everyone huddled together as it stopped. Then another loud bang came from the door as it crumbled, leaving a tiny cracked hole in which we heard Umbridges voice.

With one last swish and flick of her wand, she blasted down the door completely, walking in infuriated with the inquisitorial squad following behind her. Draco Malfoy stood on the side, his hand gripping Cho Chang’s arm tightly as she hung her head in shame. She had betrayed us.

My eyes met Malfoy’s as I lowered my wand. Each member of the squad practically forced us all the way into umbridges office however Malfoy shoved Cho to the side and came headed in my direction. “Do as I say,” he muttered under his breathe, his hand gripping my wrist causing me too flinch.

“What- What are you doing?” I whispered frantically. “Don’t question me y/l/n,” he replied, his lips barley moving as Umbridge yelled at us all.

One by one, each army member was escorted by a slytherin however Malfoy waited for everyone to leave. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” he mumbled, peering out the door making sure the coast was clear. His hand slowly slid down my wrist, intertwining his fingers with mine.

I didn’t dare speak of it, besides I felt safe with him for some reason as if I were able to trust him. Quickly, we ran down the corridors hand in hand making sure no one spot us. “Wait stop,” I panted as i breathed heavily, leaning against the wall. He stopped for a moment, his hand on his hip as he patiently waited for me too regain enough energy to walk back to my dorm. “Let me walk you back to your dorm,” he insisted.

—

“Goodnight,” he mumbled before turning to walk away. “Draco Wait-,” I called for him reluctantly as i leaned against the door of my dorm room. He turned to face me once again, one of his brows raised in confusion. “Why did you help me? I mean you could have just turned me in like the others,” I questioned hesitantly. He seemed to have straightened his posture as he looked down at the floor before glancing at my visage. “Don’t question it y/l/n,”

—

“What? That’s not possible.. how did Malfoy not turn you in?” Harry exclaimed, his face distorted as he gave the type of look when something was brutally unfair. “I bet he likes you, I remember when he came back and made up an excuse about his whereabouts,” chimed Hermione plainly as she stuck her nose into her book, causing me too flush red.

Running towards us was Fred and George Weasley as they explained what Umbridge was currently doing. “You lot might want to check this out,” their voices weary as they glanced one another. Within seconds we all made our way outside the great hall where the rock solid walls were covered with every stupid law she’d had every created. A new one of her ridiculous educational Decrees was being hung by Filch as he tried balancing on the highest step of the ladder.

My eyes trailed from above all the way down, now examining Draco’s face as he looked up, a smirk painted across his face, after all he was part of Umbridge’s clan. I don’t know why but he looked immensely alluring and it really bothered me. Why did he look so perfect? I didn’t like him did I? No of course I didn’t What type of dumb question was that?

—

Tonight me and the army decided to sneak out after curfew and meet up in the Gryffindor common room. I slipped on my robe as I softly shut the door behind me, trying to make sure it didn’t creak. I tiptoed down the corridors because we were all aware that the inquisitorial squad members were lurking around, keeping an eye on us. I couldn’t risk using a lumos spell because I knew that if I did someone might see the light at the tip of my wand easily so I attempted to guide myself in the dark, sticking my hand out incase I bumped into anything.

Unexpectedly, I tripped over my own feet causing me to fall frontwards, straight into somebody’s arms, my hands flung around their neck, clinging onto them for dear life. We stayed like that for a good few seconds, my breathing hitching as my chin laid propped up on the mystery persons shoulder.

Pulling away from me the person chanted a ‘lumos’ spell, holding their wand between our faces. “Draco?” I shrieked, my face distorted since I knew I had been caught. “What are you doing after curfew?” He interrogated. “Nothing I Uh- I was trying to sneak out to get some fresh air,” I lied, the tone in my voice making me sound sheepish. “Don’t lie to me y/l/n you were going to another one of those meetings, weren’t you?” He snarled, his grip on his wand becoming tighter. “Uh.. okay fine! I am, but please don’t tell on me I beg you,” I pleaded my lips curving into a frown.

His facial expressions changed and became softer than ever, his irresistible,grey eyes glimmering from the tiny source of light as he parted his plump lips to say something. “Go,” he whispered lowly. “Thanks Draco,” I muttered. For some reason my feet were glued too the floor as if they weren’t willing to move. I had the sudden urge to kiss him but I held back until he himself leaned a little closer, his lip ghosting mine before I took steps backwards and disappeared into the darkness.

Was I developing some sort of feelings for him? All he did was save me from landing into trouble twice and actually leave me alone for once. Did he feel the same way?

I had to at least thank him for how humble he was being over the past month so that same week I went to Hogsmeade and bought him a ring with a snake wrapped around it. After all his help, this was the least I could do to repay him.

It was Christmas Eve today and I told one of the sweet slytherins (who I knew was trustworthy) to go and put this perfectly tiny box wrapped up in black paper under the tree in the Slytherin common room.

—

Today was Christmas Day and I ran down the stairs to my common room early in the morning to open up my gifts. Harry hurled me a handful of presents as I struggled to carry them all. “Merry Christmas y/n!” They sung in unison as I started to unwrap them all. Ron had given me a perfectly knitted sweater with the first letter of my name on it. Hermione had bought me a stack of muggle books that had very interesting covers and Harry had bought me a box of assorted sweets from honey dukes because he knew I had a sweet tooth.

“Thanks guys I really appreciate it,” I gave them a warm smile. “Y/n I uh- there’s another gift addressed to you,” Ron fiddled with the present in his hand, taking a close look at it. “It’s not addressed from anyone though,”. He tossed me the dark green wrapped gift as I glanced at them unsure. My hands began unraveling the box taking a peek on the inside. To my surprise, there was a immaculately beautiful necklace with a dark green gem in a pendant. Holding the necklace between my fingers I gave a glance at it before putting it around my neck, trying not to overthink it.

—

“I wonder who gave you that?” Questioned Ginny as she squinted her eyes. Walking into the great hall was a certain blonde haired boy with his annoying group of posse following behind him like a bunch of lost puppies. He looked incredibly charming as he wore a dark green sweater with a black scarf wrapped around his neck as he tugged at it too loosen it a bit. I could just about see the ring that he wore around his finger.

Something about the way he accepted my gift made me smile to myself. “Bloody hell y/n are you blushing?” Joked Ron as I pursed my lips. “Totally not,” i responded as I bit the inside flesh of my cheek too stop myself from grinning.

From across the hall my eyes met his and I felt a unknown spark run through my body. A toothy smile crawled across his face causing me too smile back at him. Oh god I thought to myself, I couldn’t do this. I hid my face in my hands embarrassed as my friends laughed at me. “Y/n are you sure you don’t like Malfoy?” Teased Fred Weasley. “Yep it’s confirmed she does,” added George. “No I don’t,” I mumbled as my voice was muffled by my hands.

“If you’ll excuse me I have somewhere to go,” I muttered before leaving the table in embarrassment. I could see Blaise Zabini and Goyle patting Draco on the back in what seemed like encouragement as he got up. Was he going to follow me?

I strided down the corridors when I saw him calling after me. I swung my head around as I continued walking and he disappeared. Walking backwards, I tried looking for him when something bumped into me from the front. “Where do you think your going?”. I recognised that same tune that use to annoy the hell out of me.

“Draco? Where did you come from? You were right behind me,” I asked curious, trying to change the subject. “Took a shorter route,” he explained. The gap between the two of us was at the point of closing.

“You uh- wore the necklace I gave you,” his cheeks flushing slightly as his rough demeanour vanished. “You were the one who gave this? Why?” My voice cracking at the end. “And you gave me this ring- why?”. He was trying to use my own words against me as I giggled to myself. “It’s more of a thank you gift than you know-,” I elaborated as I crossed my arms.

“So why did you gift me this necklace?” The curiosity in my voice making him pause for a good second. “Let me guess.. don’t question it? That’s what your going to say right?” I giggled to myself. His face slowly dropped his lips parting as he looked above the two of us. “The mistletoe,” he choked. Above our heads, was a magically growing mistletoe that rained glitter.

He scratched the back of his head as i hung my head. “You don’t have too if you don’t want-,” I quickly cut him off by placing my lips against his, savouring the sweet flavour. Initially he was shocked, his eyes wide open until his lips moved in sync with mine, his eyes fluttering closed as he cupped my visage, my body flushed against his.

Pulling away, his eyes fluttered back open, his thumb drawing circles on my cheek as he pulled me back in one last time,his plump lips on mine before pulling back making me admire his enticing face. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered as my hands wrapped around his neck pulling him in for the tightest hug ever.

—

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