#at least to me because it’s not purposeful

[trashytracktales]

Heyy girliee, first of all I want to say that your writing is absolutely amazing. I’ve been reading your Lando fics for the past couple of days and “endings, beginnings” had me feeling butterflies in my stomach 🫢 I wanted to ask you if you could write something about lando and reader being friends but constantly having sexual tension building up between them. Maybe they flirt with each other but never think of it as something so serious and one night after a party they completely destroy each other. I fully trust you with this and how you’ll develop the story haha and don’t hold back. Thank youuu :*

Think twice | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Thank you so much for the love on Endings, beginnings & I appreciate you for taking the time to share this. Hope you like it 🤍🎀

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𐙚 summary ──── What starts as a chill party, where they sit in their old habits, ends with new boundaries crossed and a heavy tension they can no longer ignore.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, swearing, mentions of alcohol and drinking, friends to lovers, bit of jealous!Lando, smut, slight teasing, praising, fingering & oral (sit on it), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex.

𐙚 word count ──── 4.8k

𐙚 date ──── Jan. 21, 2025

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THE TWO OF them are always standing next to each other, no matter the room they’re in. The context, just like the reason why this happens, is redundant. Plus, they don’t even do it on purpose; rather, they are unconsciously drawn to each other like two magnets.

The party has finally slowed to a lazy hum, the music just a tolerable background noise now. People linger in clusters around them, their voices a distant murmur blending with the faint bassline of a forgotten playlist. The living room is dim, lit mostly by the glow of a string of fairy lights drooping across the ceiling.

It was supposed to be a small gathering, but then a friend told a friend, and that friend told their friends. And now, it’s almost impossible to find a private spot to catch your breath without breathing someone else’s air.

Somehow, they did. They are tucked into the corner of a couch, their space a small bubble of comfort. Her legs are draped over his lap, bare skin warm against the fabric of his black jeans. He’s cradling her calf in one hand, his thumb absentmindedly stroking her skin.

Her fingers thread through his curls at the back of his head, twirling them lazily. It’s a casual gesture, but it sends a shiver through him every time she does it.

Their conversation shifted into easy gossiping about a mutual friend — someone they both think is trying a bit too hard with their Instagram posts.

“It’s fucking obvious he’s fishing for attention,” says Lando, sounding almost conspiratorial.

“I know, right? The cryptic ass captions, the mirror selfies. He thinks he’s smooth with it, too,” she replies, giggling at the thought.

Lando grins, his thumb still tracing circles on her leg. The banter feels safe, the kind of effortless connection they’ve always had. But underneath it, there’s a quiet tension that neither of them is ready to address. Because they are, maybe, a bit tipsy, or because none of them has ever had the courage to take it further, for some reason.

“Alright, I need to pee,” she announces suddenly, getting ready to stand.

But Lando tightens his grip on her legs, his lips twitching in a smirk. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do,” she insists, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “If I don’t go, I might pee on you.”

Lando shrugs, “Go ahead. Then I might discover a new kink,” he encourages her.

“New?” she laughs. “That implies you already have at least one.”

Lando winks at her without saying a word, the corners of his mouth curling into a mischievous smile.

She rolls her eyes, smiling back at his immature behavior. “My God. You’re actually the worst. Move.”

He doesn’t. Instead, Lando, just stares at her with an expression that’s visibly different. His usual playful gaze has shifted to something more intense, and she tells herself he’s just a little... intoxicated. Still, it makes her heart skip a beat, because he looks so adorable when his eyes focus on something so intently. And so hot, that it makes her almost forget why she wanted to get up in the first place.

“Lan, I’m not joking, I actually have to go,” she whispers, her voice softer now.

He exhales, loosening his grip but not before giving her leg a small, reluctant squeeze.

“Don’t get lost,” he says, the words carrying more weight than they should.

She shakes her head, slipping off the couch and disappearing into the hallway. Lando watches her go, his eyes trailing after her like he’s afraid she might actually not come back.

Which is ridiculous, because he should not care. There are lots of other girls that he can take home tonight if he wants to.

Want, being the keyword.

Leaning back against the couch, he sighs, running a hand through his hair. He’s always known she was the embodiment of the perfect girl for him — funny, kind, and loyal. But tonight, there’s something else in the air that makes his mind wander. The way she carries herself, her laugh, the way she makes everything around her seem brighter.

Lando realized long ago that he wants to he in her presence. The truth hit him like a punch in the gut. And he still feels that punch sometimes, especially when he sees her interacting with other people. Especially men.

He’s had thoughts about her before. Many thoughts. Wild fantasies he brushed off as nothing more than fleeting curiosity. And they’ve joked about it, too, their drunken ‘if we’re single at 35’ pact a favorite running gag. But tonight, it doesn’t feel like a joke — he might actually marry her if she keeps letting him invade her personal space like that. Except she wouldn’t have let Lando do that if she didn’t want him there.

He finds himself smiling at his own thoughts. But then, an unwanted stiffness claws his body.

She’s on the way back when a guy leaning against the wall near the bathroom is blocking her path. He’s tall, too close for Lando’s liking, and he is gesturing animatedly. She’s always too polite, smiling as she talks, but Lando notices the way she shifts her weight, edging away slightly.

Something close to jealousy ignites in his chest, but he manages to tame the feeling by looking away, and forcing himself to take a slow sip of his drink. She can handle herself, he knows that. But he’s also ready to step in, just in case he needs to. Most men don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and he’s aware of how insistent some of them can be.

When she finally returns, Lando’s mood has shifted drastically, and she notices it the second she looks at him.

“Hey, you good?” she asks, plopping back down and swinging her legs over his lap again.

“Yeah,” he says shortly, his hand resuming its absent stroking on her shin.

Her brows knit together. “Not you lying to me. Come on, Landinho, what’s with you?”

“Nothing,” he insists, but his tone is clipped, and his eyes won’t quite meet hers.

She punches his arm lightly, trying to break through whatever wall he’s just put up. “You sure?”

He looks at her then, and the vulnerability in his gaze takes her breath away. “Sure,” he says. But his hand tightens slightly on her leg, like he’s holding onto her in more ways than one.

Her heart clenches. Lando is her friend, the one person she can always count on, but in this moment, she feels the air between them growing in different direction. It’s not the first time, and it doesn’t make her uncomfortable, but it’s not easy for her to sit in it, either.

“You’re being weird,” she states, trying to lighten the mood, but her voice wavers.

“Yeah, sorry,” he mutters, forcing a small smile. “Just tired,” adds Lando, but there’s something he hides behind his eyes, something that makes her chest ache.

She studies his face, her teasing words dying on her lips. His eyes are heavy-lidded, the usual spark dulled by the late hour and maybe one drink too many. His movements are slow, lazy, his thumb still caressing her skin.

“I can see that,” she says gently, sliding her legs off his lap. “Up. Come with me?”

The sudden loss of contact pulls him out of his haze, “Where?” asks Lando, his voice faintly slurred with exhaustion.

“Do you trust me?” she replies with a knowing smile, standing up and extending a hand to him. “My god, Lando. My friend gave me keys to one of the rooms upstairs in case I wanted to crash.”

He hesitates, glancing at her outstretched hand before finally letting out a soft laugh and taking it.

They make their way upstairs, the faint thump of music growing quieter with each step. The room isn’t far, tucked at the end of a hallway. She unlocks the door, revealing a small but cozy space. The room is dimly lit, with a single bedside lamp casting a muted glow over the single bed that’s pressed against one wall, a small dresser, and an armchair in the corner.

Lando steps in behind her, the faint hum of the party fading as the door clicks shut. His gaze sweeps over the room, taking in the space. She lingers by the door for a moment, turning the key with a soft click, locking them in; the sound feels final, and heavier than it should.

Lando notices the bed immediately, his eyes narrowing briefly before he rubs the back of his neck, a gesture that betrays his unease. His voice is low and uncertain as he says, “You know what, I can crash on the couch downstairs. It’s fine.”

She tilts her head, her lips curving into a small smile as she watches him fidget. “You can,” she agrees, knowing that Lando has the superpower to fall asleep anywhere, no matter the place or how loud the background noise is. “Unfortunately, I locked the door,” she adds with fake concern in her voice.

Lando glances at her, his expression caught somewhere between playful and wary. “Yeah. You can unlock it, though.”

“But I won’t,” she replies, her smile softening, her words carrying an unspoken challenge that Lando catches immediately.

His lips part, and for a moment, he says nothing, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. Then, quietly, his voice dipping lower, he says, “Then don’t.”

His words linger between them, and she feels the weight of his gaze as it shifts to her. There’s no teasing in his expression now, no trace of the lighthearted Lando she’s used to.

She lets her arms fall to her side, her pulse quickening.

Lando’s chest rises and falls steadily, though there’s a tautness to his posture. His gaze darts back to the bed, then to her, and she swears she sees a flicker of something in his eyes — fear? Desire? Anticipation?

His jaw tightens, his eyes searching hers, and she feels the weight of everything left unsaid pressing down on them both. Every glance, every touch, every joke that lingered a second too long — it’s all there, bubbling to the surface.

The tension between them that has simmered for months, maybe even years, suddenly feels unbearable. Lando’s eyes meet hers once again, and the quiet resolve in her gaze breaks something inside him. And then, suddenly, a glance he catches from her it’s all it takes. The restraint he’s held onto for so long snaps like a rubber band stretched too far. Before he knows it, he’s closing the gap between them, his hands cupping her face as his lips crash against hers.

She responds instantly, her hands tangling in his curls as she pulls him closer. The kiss is all-consuming, months of buried feelings and unsaid words spilling out in a rush. It’s intoxicating, a heavy blend of alcohol and the faint sweetness of her cherry lip balm. His lips are soft, impossibly so, molding against hers like they were made to fit. The taste of him is dizzying, a perfect balance of warmth and want, and each movement of his mouth sends sparks of heat rippling through her.

It’s overwhelming, the way Lando kisses her — gentle, but with a growing intensity that leaves her breathless, her heart pounding as if it’s trying to match the rhythm of his. His fingers trail down to her neck, squeezing lightly and pulling her against him as they stumble backward toward the bed.

“Do you know how long—” he begins against her lips, his voice rough with need.

“Too long,” she cuts him off with another kiss while her fingers are rushing to tug at the hem of his shirt.

Lando groans as they tumble onto the bed. Their breaths are loud and uneven, filling the small space as their lips crash together again, need and desire fueling every movement. Her palm presses against the small of his back, coaxing him between her legs. He instinctively follows her guidance, his body lowering against hers until his forehead rests on hers. At that, Lando sighs, not with frustration but a soft exasperation that halts them both.

“Are we… okay?” he asks, half-amused and half-concerned. “We shouldn’t—we should not do this. Not like this.”

She doesn’t release him, her hands still on his sides, her legs loosely wrapped around him. “We are,” she assures him, her voice calm but insistent. “It’s just us, Lando.”

His brows furrow, his lips parting in disbelief. “I know. I just don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and—”

Her hands move to his face, cupping it firmly and forcing him to look directly at her. “Regret it?” the girl asks, her thumbs stroking his cheekbones. “Don’t be silly. You know this isn’t about tonight. I’ve wanted you for a while now. I know you do, too.”

His eyes flicker with something raw, and he swallows hard. “I do,” he agrees. “But. It’d be such a waste to mess it up.”

The weight of his confession settles over them, and he falls onto the mattress beside her. For a moment, they both stare up at the ceiling, their fingers brushing tentatively before intertwining. It’s quiet, save for the hum of the party faintly bleeding through the walls.

And then, “You’re such a good kisser, by the way,” she finally breaks the silence.

He lets out a chuckle, visibly affected. “You’re not making it any easier.”

“I’m already messed up because of you, Lan,” she confesses, turning onto her side, her fingers finding his arm and tracing slow patterns along its length. “I trust us. No matter the outcome.”

Her hand travels to his chest, her fingers brushing lightly over his collarbone before moving to his jaw. She traces the line of it, her touch light but electrifying. Finally, her thumb brushes over his bottom lip, her gaze following her movements so closely, as if she wants to devour him.

Their thoughts run wild, revisiting every stolen glance, the tension, the want — it’s always been there. Every moment brought them here.

And now?

“Do you, really?” asks Lando, his voice laced with curiosity.

She nods, her hands sliding down to rest over his, her fingers curling around his. “Completely. I trust us to figure it out as we go. Don’t you?”

He lets her words settle, a warmth spreading through his body. He does. But he still has to think twice before agreeing to something so drastic, especially when he is faced with something he wants so badly that it makes him burn with impatience.

Finally, Lando sighs, looking at her.

“It’s not a big deal, right?” she says with a quiet laugh, her voice tinged with both affection and relief. “We’ve always been good at just... being us.”

He smiles at that, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “That’s true. We’re pretty fucking great at that.”

Lando’s breathing hitches as she guides his hand to her ass, pressing it against her curves with an undeniable confidence. His grip tightens instinctively, and she drapes a leg over his waist, pulling herself closer. Their eyes lock, her fingers tracing his features, as if committing every contour to memory. They’ve never been so close to each other, and the intimacy of the moment makes his heart race, while hers almost melts under the warmth of his body.

“You’re going to ruin me,” he admits matter-of-factly.

Her lips curl into a faint smile. “Hopefully,” she whispers, her hand traveling south, to work on unbuttoning his jeans.

Lando swallows hard, his gaze darkening as he grips her tighter. “If I fuck you tonight…” his voice drops, laced with a possessiveness that makes her shiver. “I won’t be able to let another guy come anywhere near you again.”

Her eyebrows arch in surprise, finally able to put the pieces together, understanding why Lando was acting so strange earlier.

“Are you jealous, Lando?” she teases, though there’s a flicker of curiosity in her tone.

Lando’s response is silent; instead, he leans in, his lips finding the soft curve of her neck. He sucks lightly, then harder, leaving a blooming hickey that makes her gasp.

When he pulls back, his voice is firm, “No, I just want people to stay away from what’s mine.”

Her breath catches, and before she can stop herself, the word escapes her lips in a near-whisper. “Yours.”

The corners of his mouth twitch, but he doesn’t say anything, letting the intensity in his gaze speak for him. She pushes at his chest, making him fall back against the mattress with a soft laugh, and crawls on top of him, her thighs straddling his hips.

Impatiently, her hands work on his shirt, pushing it up his chest. “Off,” she demands, tugging until he lifts his arms and lets her pull it over his head.

His hands waste no time, slipping under her skirt and pulling at the lace of her panties. “These,” he says quickly, his breath warm against her collarbone, “are in my way.”

With a sharp pull, he slides them down her thighs, and she shivers as the cool air kisses her damp skin. She leans down, burying her face in the crook of his neck to hide her embarrassment as he guides her hips forward, her bare core pressing against the warmth of his abs. The firm ridges of muscle beneath her send a jolt of pleasure through her body, and she lets out a soft moan.

Lando’s hand tightens on her hip, his thumb brushing over her skin. “Look at that,” he breathes heavily, “What got you so excited, hm?”

She whimpers at his words, the heat pooling in her cheeks as much as between her thighs. “Don’t—” she mumbles into his neck, her voice muffled and shy.

He chuckles softly, the vibration of it against her skin making her shudder. “No, that’s so hot,” he teases, moving her hips just slightly so she drags against him. His own breath catches, and his hips shift upward, pressing the hardness of his length against her thigh. “You feel what you’re doing to me? It’s mutual.”

She lifts her head, her eyes meeting his as she lets her fingers trail down his chest. Next, she adjusts herself as her hand slides lower, brushing against the waistband of his pants before she pushes them down just enough to free him. His cock springs free, and she bites her lip at the sight of it, her own arousal growing as she reaches out to wrap her hand around him.

Lando groans, his head falling back against the pillow. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice rough and full of longing.

As she leans down to press her lips to his chest, her tongue flicking over his nipple, a sound escapes him that’s somewhere between a gasp and a moan. She glances up again, amused. “Well,” she teases, her voice playful but sultry, “I think I just found your new kink.”

Lando lets out a weak chuckle, his hand tangling in her hair as he pulls her back up to kiss her. “Shut up,” he speaks over her lips, but the way his hips buck against her hand tells her she’s right. “Everything you do is my kink,” he whispers, the rawness in his voice making her heart race.

Her cheeks flush a deeper shade, and with a playful glint in her eye, her hand squeezes his cock lightly, eliciting a sharp inhale from him. “Sorry,” she giggles, feigning innocence, “I just wanted to make sure.”

He scoffs, shaking his head with a smirk before his hands cup her ass firmly, pressing her harder against him. His voice is rough and dripping with need as he almost begs, “Come sit on my face.”

The unexpected plea is leaving her breathless, painting her face in confusion. “What?” she stammers, her voice nearly swallowed by the thrum of arousal coursing through her.

“Yeah, you heard me,” Lando assures her, his tone insistent, his eyes ablaze with anticipation.

Without waiting for her to argue, he pushes her skirt up around her waist, revealing the soft skin of her thighs, and pulls her closer to his face. She hesitates for a moment, her nerves warring with her desire, but when his strong hands guide her gently and his lips press a teasing kiss against her inner thigh, she gives in. The first swipe of his tongue against her entrance makes her gasp, her hand flying to the wall to steady herself.

Lando groans as he tastes her, the sound vibrating against her core and sending shockwaves through her body. One arm wraps tightly around her thigh, anchoring her to him, while his free hand drifts down to his cock, stroking himself in tandem with the rhythm of his tongue. Her moans spill into the air, mixing with his as Lando’s mouth works her over like a man starved, warm and wet and utterly relentless.

“Lan,” she breathes, her voice shaky as the intensity builds. Her hips jerk against his mouth instinctively, and he responds by pulling her even closer, burying his face deeper between her legs.

His tongue flicks, swirls, and presses in all the right places, and she can barely keep herself upright. She has to press both of her palms on the wall, but even then it’s not enough to keep her grounded. Not when Lando laps at her clit, his fingers digging into her thighs to keep her still as her body begins to tremble.

“You taste so fucking good,” he informs her between strokes of his tongue, his words muffled but clear enough to make her toes curl.

As her breaths turn shallow and erratic, she feels the pressure coiling tightly in her abdomen. Lando senses it, too, and his grip tightens, his movements growing more fervent. “Wanna come for me?” he asks as impatient as she is.

Before she can even process his question, her climax crashes into her like a tidal wave, her thighs trembling around his head as her moans echo through the room. Lando doesn’t stop, his mouth and tongue coaxing her through every pulse and tremor until she’s gasping for air.

In one swift, effortless motion, he pulls her down onto the bed and flips her over, positioning himself above her. His lips are slick, his gaze heavy-lidded with lust as he pumps two fingers into her, the wet heat of her still clenching around him.

“That’s it,” he encourages, his thumb brushing against her sensitive clit as his fingers curl inside. “Let me feel you.”

Her body arches off the bed as another wave of pleasure crests over her, Lando’s name spilling from her lips in breathless cries. The sheer intensity of his touch and the quickness of it all leave her spinning, her mind barely able to keep up as he drives her over the edge once more.

By the time her breathing begins to steady, Lando leans down, his lips brushing hers in a lingering kiss, tasting her satisfaction on his tongue. He grins against her mouth, utterly smug but entirely captivated.

“See how fucking delicious you are?” he whispers, and she can only nod, still lost in the aftermath of him unraveling her completely.

Seeing the pleasure etched across her face, Lando can barely hold it together. His hands tremble slightly as he shoves his jeans and boxers down for good, freeing himself at last. His cock, heavy and flushed, rests against her thigh, the warmth of her skin giving him goosebumps. He breathes heavily, his chest rising and falling in sync with hers as he pauses for just a moment, meeting her gaze with a mix of vulnerability and pure lust.

“Are we really gonna do this?” asks Lando, his voice hiding too much desire under its raspy tone.

His eyes search hers, looking for any hint of doubt. Luckily, there is none. She just nods frantically, her hands sliding down his back to cup the firm muscles of his ass.

Her touch sends electricity through him, and she guides him where she needs him most, her body arching in anticipation. “I want you. Please.”

Without breaking eye contact, he sinks into her, and the world stops for both of them. His head falls forward, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he feels her warmth envelop him, her slick heat drawing him in effortlessly. Her body opens for him so easily, so perfectly, that it steals his breath. The tension that had coiled tightly in her frame melts away as her legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer.

Her arms encircle his shoulders, holding him tightly while she gasps Lando’s name. Her voice is music to his ears, and he presses his forehead against hers, the connection between them both overwhelming, yet grounding. Her fingers slide into his curls, playing with the strands at the nape of his neck as her hips shift instinctively, adjusting to his size.

“God, you feel…” he trails off, unable to find the words. Instead, he lets his body speak for him, drawing back before thrusting forward again. His movements are purposeful and powerful, each one making the bed creak slightly beneath them and pushing her up and down the sheets.

Her lips part with soft cries, her fingers tightening in his hair as her body meets each of his thrusts. “Lando,” she moans, her voice full of need and adoration, spurring him on. “Yes, that feels so good. Don’t stop.”

He catches her mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing her sounds as his hands wander over her body. His fingers hook under the hem of her t-shirt, and he tugs it upward, breaking the kiss momentarily to pull it over her head. The sight of her bare skin, flushed and glistening, takes his breath away. Her breasts are adorned with black lace, and the contrast against her skin ignites something primal in him.

“Stunning,” says Lando just as his hand drifts to her chest, brushing over the delicate fabric.

The way she arches into his touch, her nails scraping lightly against his shoulders, drives him wild. His thrusts deepen, his hips moving with purpose as the room fills with the sounds of their bodies meeting, her moans, and his ragged breaths.

“Fucking hell,” he rasps. His jaw clenches as he feels her tightening around him. “You’re killing me. So tight and—”

Before he can finish, she pulls him into a kiss. It’s shallow, their lips barely meeting as they breathe each other’s air. Her nails dig into his back, her legs trembling as she holds him as close as humanly possible.

“You’re so good, Lando,” she murmurs, her voice quivering, her praise like gasoline on his fire. “My favorite boy.”

Her words send him over the edge of control, his hips stuttering as he thrusts deep inside her, feeling her walls begin to flutter and clench around his cock. Her back arches, her head burying into the pillow as her orgasm crashes over her like a tidal wave. Again.

Her moans are unfiltered, and she clutches him like he’s her lifeline, while Lando stills inside her, groaning low and long as her body grips him so tightly that knocks the air out of his lungs. He presses his forehead against her chest, their breaths hurried as her aftershocks pulse around him so sweetly. Her nails scrape lightly down his back, grounding them both, continuing to whisper his name like a prayer.

It’s enough for Lando to surrender to his own orgasm, his body trembling as wave after wave of release takes him over. He stays buried inside her, unwilling to part just yet. The warm tightness around him makes him shudder, his hand gripping her thigh to anchor himself.

When he finally pulls out, he hesitates before pressing his knee between her legs, feeling the slick warmth of their combined arousal smearing against his skin. She squirms against him, her overstimulated body trembling, her hips shifting involuntarily as aftershocks ripple through her.

Lando watches her, his eyes dark with satisfaction, his voice husky as he whispers, “Forget 35. Let’s get married tomorrow.”

She exhales sharply, a laugh bubbling out of her. “I’m down,” she teases, her tone light but affectionate. “Let’s book the venue now.”

He looks at her, gaze softening, filled with something deeper as he reaches behind her and, with one measured motion, unclasps her bra. The suddenness of it catches her off guard, her eyes widening as he tosses it aside like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Before she can say a word, Lando leans over the side of the bed, fishing for his shirt. He finds it, holding it up, then tugging it over her head, the oversized fabric swallowing her frame.

“Perfect fit,” he says softly, his fingers brushing against her arms as he helps her adjust it. The gesture makes her chest tighten, her heart swelling with an ache she doesn’t fully understand yet.

After that, Lando slides back into his boxers and pulls the covers over both of them. The bed is small, forcing their bodies to press together in a tangle of limbs. It doesn’t feel awkward, though. It feels like a new home, safe and peaceful.

He rests his head on her chest, his breath warm and steady against her, while his hand absently caresses her through the fabric of his shirt, his fingers brushing over her nipple. Everything about the moment feels somehow so normal, like they’ve been this way forever.

The silence stretches on, so comforting, until she suddenly breaks it with a soft groan. “I have to pee again.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

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© trashy track tales, 2025

[writella]

Here He Is, Finally

Synopsis: “When’s it gonna be my turn? Open me up, tell me you like it, fuck me to death, love me until I love myself—” This is a story about the inner struggles of a desiring Daryl who just wants to be free of the perceptions the town, and his own mind, have put on him, so he can love you and love himself, in the ways he’s always wanted to.

—or: As Daryl becomes the talk of the town, insecurity sets in that hinders him from having sex with you— the thing you most want to do.

Details: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader, ambiguous age gap, mixing early seasons’ + later seasons’ personality of Daryl, the town being mean but also thinking Daryl’s hot because he is, discussions of gossiping, insecurity, and poor self-image, Daryl fights someone :), and smut— unprotected + he’s nervous but then it gets good, and it’s their/Daryl’s/your first time in whatever way you want it to be.

A/N: He’s literally me (I’m a girl).

— With love from writella. ♡

There it was. You finally said it. You told Daryl that you were ready to have sex.

When you told him, the two of you were having a quiet morning and he was about to leave. Pulling yourself up to his height, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and he took you by the waist, one hand reached up to hold your head, rubbing his thumb there. Good, you had thought, he’s reciprocating. That let you know he was okay, but still, underneath, you knew he was embarrassed about last night. You weren’t going to bring it up though, not then. You wanted to move forward, to show him that you didn’t care. “Daryl,” you started, words slow, uneasy in voice but sure in intention, as you whispered to him from above his shoulder, “I just wanted to tell you– that– I feel like I’m ready.” You paused for a moment. “And whatever you feel, I’m okay with it. Just talk to me.” As silence ensued, you kissed him on the cheek, “I love you,” you said, and pulled back.

Daryl kept his hands in yours as he looked at you. His features were sad and soft as much as they were unreadable. He kissed you on the forehead. “I love you too,” he said– it wasn’t the first time you two had exchanged those words– and then he left. Just like that.

You had no expectation for how he would react. You only knew he wouldn’t give you a flat-out no, so this, was understandable. But still, there was something hollow about it, even if his kiss and words were tender. It was another relationship moment that reminded you that these things never happen as they do in fairytale romances.

You see, you had always pictured him or whoever you were with at the time, bringing you close, kissing you, their fingers trailing down and under the hem of your skirt or pants, asking you if you were ready, if you were sure, if you wanted them to go slow, slower, but Daryl— as it turns—was incredibly pure, or at least pretending to be. Either too nervous or sensitive about these things, possibly inexperienced, or much more innocent with his intentions than you ever expected. It’s like you knew Daryl like the back of your hand, but when it came to anything about you as a couple, his history, who he’s dated before– you were clueless. You didn’t know what it could be.

One thing you did suspect, although Daryl has never told you, is that he thought of you as precious, something to be delicate with, like a flower. Sometimes you’d tell him he didn’t have to be so slow or soft when you were kissing– he was always a little sloppy anyway– and whenever there was a task to get done you’d be the first to tell anyone you could do it yourself, he knew this about you. And it’s not like he babies you or anything, that was never his way. Like when you two were fighting walkers, or doing work around the communities, or when he’s teaching you how to do something. You’ve even told him that he could be a bit demanding sometimes, grouchy, rough, and he agreed– that was true. He didn’t do it on purpose, the whole being hard on you thing. But alone? When he was on top of you or you over him? Waking up to you? Feeling your hand reach for his own in the dark? Even just eating dinner with you? The guy was a mess! A little boy, even. Heart racing. Eyes averted at times.

Whenever he nipped you, on the lips, or the neck, maybe he pushed you on the bed too hard, grabbed your waist too tight that it squeezed the bone, there were always silent apologizes of gentle circles, sweet kisses, and tongue licks to soothe the pain or possible bruises he left on you. And sometimes, when you’re home alone or you shower together, and he starts to kiss you or pull you in by the waist, he almost always sets out with the intention that this time he’d finally do it— the sex thing— he always wanted to. Only if you knew! Honestly, he’d feel like such a pervert if he let you know how many times, both before and after you got together, that he’s thought of being inside you, or you on your knees for him, or him kissing up your thighs and tasting you– he genuinely thinks he’d really like it, all of it, but especially that. But every time you’ve kissed and kissed enough, he’d get too overwhelmed about how to proceed or too nervous to even try. He tells you that you two should shower or go to bed or that he has to go for whatever reason. So all you’ve done is grind on each other, a lot, but that’s about it. You know he’s gotten hard and you’ve gotten wet, but you’re not sure if he’s ever noticed. He wants to put his hands in your pants, he wants to rip your blouse, he wants to squeeze your tits and slap your ass, but every time he thinks about actually doing it, he feels it's too forward or raunchy, or maybe it's not actually like him in the way he’s pictured in his head, or maybe you’d hate it, and specifically the way he did it. And he has thought about doing it slowly, romantically, but every time he thinks about doing that, he feels stupid, thinking he’ll come off as clumsy and pathetic to you. He doesn’t exactly get the concept of slow and sexy yet— reaching up, breathing you in, letting his fingers linger, or hands caress and massage. It’s not that he couldn’t do it though, or so he thinks, if he really tries; it's that doesn’t even think he’s sexy to begin with.

The only thing Daryl knows for sure are the things people call him when they think he’s not listening.

“Deep and… grunty,” one much too young girl said to her equally young friend who giggled, indicating her agreement even if she was too afraid to verbalize it. “I just like his voice,” the first girl said, “it’s sexy.” Or, “Wild,” as one of Aaron’s friends whispered to him, “Like he could throw me around, do it in front of the whole town, and wouldn’t care who saw.” To which Aaron scoffed and replied, “That’s literally my fucking friend.” But in truth, it’s not like he hadn’t thought about it himself, how Daryl looked underneath his vest and button-downs– it was just once though!– he promises!– as if he needed to explain it to himself. He even told his husband about it; they had agreed on Daryl’s attractiveness. Eric called it “rugged,” and they laughed about it over dinner. Now, Aaron would repeat that word as he overheard another group of ladies discussing ways to describe or trademark some of the male leaders in town. As Aaron passed by, “rugged,” was his suggested alternative to the word “beast” when one older lady described Daryl, in a way that would make anyone not a part of the conversation cringe, “Beast, sexy armed beast.” But Aaron was only met with silence and weird hums until a girl replied that “sexy armed rugged,” doesn’t make any sense. To that, all the ladies agreed. As Aaron walked away, wanting nothing more with this kind of conversation about his friends, he caught the new suggestion: “Daddy,” a girl had said with the widest smile on her face— she wasn’t a teenager, but it was obviously her first time being vocal about these things. She must have felt she said something so salacious. And as much as Aaron wanted to gag, there was also a part of him that reluctantly stopped himself from laughing and blushing with the rest of the woman. One of them rolled her eyes saying, “They can’t all be daddy,” to which another girl said, “But they kind of are!” and then he was too far away to hear anymore.

Daryl didn’t get any of it.

The only ones that truly bothered him though were when they added, “I know he’s a little ugly but,” or “I know he’s not my type but,” or “I know he looks a little dirty but,” “And he never does his hair but,” “And he’s not like the smartest but,” but, but, but—

It all made him feel bad about himself; more confused.

Even when it was just generally flattering, he found it hard to take any of it as a compliment. Sometimes he would, maybe the whispers of him being “kinda hot,” on the days when he’d return to his cut-off sleeved shirts, or maybe those moments when a lady would be talking to her friend saying how he’s “handsome,” or how she just knows “he’s packing–big–” and what’s better than a big dick, right? At least that is what Daryl thought– it's the bit of Merle in him– and he bets Negan wished he had one— Daryl was pretty sure Negan’s is a tiny little bitch just like his personality. No one gets to kill one of his best friends and gets more than a three-incher. Right, J.C.? If you’re even up there? Not that Daryl would mind if you were or weren’t, or cares if you did, he wouldn’t mind– Daryl didn’t think about religion that much anymore. And on that note, he realizes that he doesn’t do a lot of the same things he used to anymore. Like the way he would walk around without a care, even confidently sometimes, not thinking about how much he swung his arms or the way he talked or the way his hair fell that day. There was this one time, as he was walking over to Rick in the garden, telling him he couldn’t find whatever particular tools Rick wanted, he yelled, “They ain’t there no more, Rick!” that he heard some older guy say to his friend that Daryl sounded like a “human gremlin,” to which the friend tried to one-up him by saying, “more like a garbage disposal.” Then another day, some girl said he looks like a “wet rat sometimes,” especially when his hair is flat or, as said in the phrase, wet; and he never forgot it, either of them or anything anyone has ever said about him. It’s always been like this. Even when he was a kid.

Daryl tries to remember that people have just gotten too comfortable now that Alexandria is back on track, at least that’s basically what you had said. One day, Daryl came into your room, huffing and throwing himself on your desk chair, saying, “Some people don’t know how to keep their mouths shut.” To which you had asked him what was wrong, but he shook his head.

“Well,” you begin, responding to his un-answer, “some gossip is misogynized. It used to be a way for women to spread information, but–” you avoid the lecture— “I get what you mean.” You look at him, seeing the way his eyes still drift. “I can’t tell you everything, but Rosita and I had heard some people speculate on the whole her and Saddiq and Gabriel thing.” You shook your head, your eyes rolling a little, “It made her upset. I could tell. But it took her a while to talk about it. I think some people forget they can talk behind closed doors now. Our porches aren’t as private as they used to be, and people have gotten mean.” To that, you both nodded in agreement and then you climbed toward the edge of your bed to hold his hand. Something was obviously wrong. “Has anyone said anything about you?”

Again, he shakes his head and you have to leave it at that— all he wanted to do was ask questions about you now, and he wouldn’t let you change the subject.

But at home, alone, he stares at the mirror, trying to see what other people see: handsome, rugged, possibly wild… but all he saw were things he didn’t l understand, things that made him feel he wasn’t good enough. Did they really think he was attractive? And if so, why did they always have to bring up that there was something completely unattractive about him before the compliment? And why were those remarks always easier to believe? Or was it all just some weird fantasy they felt dirty about having? And was being rude behind his back was some sort of justification for it? Was it all of them above? Most importantly, did you think any of this?

Next Saturday, a week after you told him you were ready, the town gathered in the church during the evening for the monthly communal meal. This was something that started during the rehabilitation of Alexandria, another thing that the population was getting too big to contain, but Rick and Judith liked it. So, Michonne agreed to keep it— for now— despite reasoning that “this is what holidays are for, Rick.”

It was about an hour in, 6pm and sunset now past. Some people who had been busy working were still filing in, little by little, but for the most part, a majority of citizens were seated, eating, and chatting. There was a steady rain outside that made everything smell fresh, and if it wasn’t for all the chatter, you could even possibly hear the light drumming on the church walls. Everyone was quite pleased about it, spring seemed to be coming early.

Daryl had not come to see you last night and left early this morning so you didn’t know where he went or what he did, but what you did know for certain is that he never carried an umbrella. Therefore, when he finally arrived, 30 minutes later, his hair was soaked, and since he didn’t even wear his jacket, the long sleeves of his shirt were drenched with water droplets sticking to his vest and shoes that sloshed and left wet footprints on the wooden floor.

Obvious to say, he was noticed by all.

There is a fine line with Daryl between not giving a fuck about how he was perceived, and caring far too much while not willing to do anything about it, and of course, with all that has happened in the past few weeks, it was the ladder. He hated being the center of attention, but it was hard for him to not be noticeable, it never was, especially now. He felt ridiculous.

As he walks onto the stage– where all the tables of food are placed– you follow him.

“Hi,” you say next to him.

“Hi,” he replies, calling you by your nickname kindly enough, but not ever looking at you.

“You know, I think Rick was hoping you were coming back on time. I don’t know why he put all that stuff on his chair if it wasn’t for you or Michonne and Michonne sat with me.”

He simply nods, humming as acknowledgment.

“Daryl,” you move to the other side of the table as he gathers his food so he can look at you. Quietly you say, “We don’t have to talk about it now, but– I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable the other day. Or if it was about the night before, you just have to tell me.” You poke his shoulder, “You’re acting weird and you know it.”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” is all he grumbles.

“But I still want to say I’m sorry if I did.”

Daryl quickly finds some napkins to dry his hands and wrists with and comes over to place them on the sides of your head to kiss you there. “You ain’t got anything to be sorry about. Alright? I’m fine.” His hands drop and holds you by the neck for a moment, the movement makes some water droplets bleed onto your clothes, you feel it but you say nothing. The only thing Daryl notices from you is that your eyes look almost identical to his despite the differing color– his mood is affecting yours, but he doesn’t know what to say right now to make you feel better so he opts for something he always know is true, “You’re perfect. You know that right?” And I’m just fuckin’ weirdo, he wants to add, but he doesn’t.

You were smiling at him. He doesn’t get it. He looked like an idiot all soaking wet and you were smiling at him. There couldn’t be a better reaction, but still, it’s moments like this where he can’t believe you’re real. All you say is “Okay,” never taking a compliment, just like him, instead of finding a way to break-up with him like he always nearly suspects. “Come to me when you finish, alright? We can leave if you want?”

“Alright,” he responds and you leave him be.

As Daryl goes down the rows of tables picking out what he wants, he heads to the last one. The way the event was set up was that everyone who came early had the opportunity to take a seat at one of the four tables that were placed along each corner of the stage and the rest sat in the pews, but despite the higher vantage point the stage gave, that did not mean Daryl couldn’t hear what those around the stage were saying around him— as always. It must be a hunter’s ear or something.

“Be careful,” a woman says smirking, her eyes gesturing to Daryl. “Let’s hope he doesn’t wet us.” The friend in front of her snickers, looking back to see that Daryl is now by the table just above theirs. Whispering, the first woman continues, shaking her head, “I don’t know how Rick or the girl put up with it. She just acted like nothing was wrong. He’s mudding up the whole damn church!”

Daryl keeps his back turned. This ends up being his last straw. “How about you shut the fuck up,” he mutters.

“Excuse me?”

Louder, facing no one in particular he yells, “Why does everyone act like I don’t got ears?”

You look up, synchronized with everyone in the church and get up with Rick who is already slowly approaching him, but Michonne yanks you down.

“What is your problem?”

To that, he turns back to the woman, “How ‘bout you say what you said again and stop talking shit under your breath.”

“What?”

“I said,” he starts yelling again, “if you got somethin’ to say about me lady, say it to ma’ face. That’s what I said.”

“Hey, what’s goin’ on?” Rick asks almost warningly, but not before someone yells, “Who the fuck are you talking to, man?” from one of the aisles in the back. It was her husband, now standing from his seat. He and his wife make eye contact, and instantly he’s moving closer.

Daryl walks to the edge of the front stage, barking a quick “move” without any pause and Eugene and Siddiq violently bob their heads and grab their plates as Daryl steps on the table and jumps to the floor.

Rick tries to push him back but it’s no use, Daryl pushes him in return and he and the husband are charging at each other, speaking over each other: “What did you say to my wife?” “Told her to shut the fuck up. Thought I said it loud enough–” “Nah, man you were mumblin’ like always–” “Or d’you need me to say it louder with ma garbage disposal mouth?” Daryl pushes him, “Huh?” “I’m not fighting you, man.” But Daryl persists, getting in the man’s face, their noses almost touching. He whispers, “You know, maybe your wife’s got everyone’s name in her mouth because she don’t fuckin’ like you.” The man keeps shaking his head, but Daryl surprises him, he isn’t the only one the town gossips about. “She’s fucking Mark,” he tells him. That was true, and people knew it. “He’s your friend, ain’t he? Maybe that’s why she’s always–” But no, not him, her husband did not know, so he punches, straight in the eye. Daryl almost smiles as he takes the next swing.

The two are tussling, but not for long as Rick takes the chance to get Daryl from behind, taking him away with Gabriel’s help. “You done?” Rick asks as Gabriel holds him on the other side, His grip honestly does nothing though and Daryl shrugs him off. Poor Gabe looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm to see the church– practically his church– in such disarray.

With that, and with Daryl raging too much to contain, he shrugs Rick off and stomps out.

Michonne finally takes her hand off of your wrist and you make you way to leave too. As you walk, you look back to Rick who is already trying to follow, and wordlessly tell him that it’s your turn now, then, turn to awkwardly dodge the people still standing in the aisle and collect your things to go.

Daryl was not hard to find. It almost made you think he wanted to be found or knew you’d go after him— he’s being such a child today. Despite the town lights, you hold out your flashlight to find him sits on a tree stump on the edge of town next to one of his favorite trees. The leaves did a terrible job of covering him from anything but you knew he didn’t care. It was almost laughable honestly. Still, you take pity, he was yours and you were concerned. “I know you don’t care about getting wet,” you say with no malice or disappointment in your voice, “but all that water in your shoes can cause blisters. You didn’t even wear the ones that don’t have holes.”

He just shakes his head, as always, and water droplets fall from the tips of his hair.

“Remember when that happened to me and you drained them with needles even though Saddiq told us not to?”

He stares at you, stone-faced for a moment. “You’re the one who told me to do it.”

“Because they hurt really bad!”

“You were being a baby.”

“Really?” You ask ironically. “So if I’m the baby why are you acting like one right now? It’s been raining since morning, Daryl! Not even a jacket? You’re obviously upset about something but I’m not going to continue this with you in the rain, looking like a sad, wet puppy.”

He sneered at the comment, wet.

“Let’s just go home, okay? Let me take you.”

“We don’t live together.”

You frown. “Don’t be mean, Daryl,” you gently warn. “You know what I mean.”

You hold your hand out for him, water collecting in your palm as you wait. It was more of a gesture than actual help as you two were still a few feet away from each other. “Please? You could have already ran away on your bike or gone home and locked your door but you didn’t. I don’t know what’s going on but don’t act like I don’t know you.”

Reluctantly, he gets up, walking to you in almost slow motion. You wish you could call him the drama queen he is right now, but it was time to get out of this rain– you would hold it in for the time being.

As you enter the small place, you make no conversation. You simply get to work and he doesn’t stop you. You take off your rain jacket and boots, then you take off his vest and boots. You drag him to his room and hang up your sweater and take off your jewelry, then you empty his pant pockets. Finally, you hold his hand as he trails behind you and into the bathroom. You unbutton his shirt and unzip his pants and place them all in the hamper. He takes off his underwear and helps you take off your clothes too. When you’re done, you turn on the water and go in, he follows. You bathe and wash his hair in silence. You are tender and gentle, and he knows it, he appreciates it, but his mind is loud, and angry, and he feels so pathetic as you wash him like he’s 5 years old. You turn around to start washing yourself as he takes care of cleaning his legs and lower area. After he’s done, all he can do is look at you, your body, the soft humming you can’t help but do when you shower. It’s exactly as he said, you’re perfect. He wants to bang his head against the wall because of it.

When you two finish, you sit on his bed, wearing one of his white shirts and a pair of boxers, he wears the same except his bottoms are sweatpants. He hates these kinds of casual clothes actually, he’s only okay with wearing it sometimes, but he has nothing else at the moment. All he had to do was give his clothes to Carol to wash, but he didn’t. He hasn’t really done anything this week.

��Ms. Ellen is a bitch.” You finally say, giving him an ice pack for his eye. “And so is Mr. Gary and they both have the whiteness names in the world. And they’re both lazy as fuck and reek of nepotism because they only had one of the biggest houses and biggest egos in Alexandria because they were friends with Deanna and they’re still bitter that their house being destroyed in the fire— which I get— but it’s not okay that she uses her bitterness to talk shit about everyone. And it’s also not okay that you used your anger to fight someone who didn’t deserve it. That wasn’t like you.”

“Maybe it is. You didn’t always know me.”

“Well, sure, can act like a tough—”

“I don’t act like anything—”

“Fine, I’ll change it: Can you be a tough guy? Yeah. But do you pick fights and make big scenes in front of the kids like that? No, you don’t.” You stare at him, tapping him on the knee and forcing him to look at you. “You not talking is obviously not working, Daryl. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

He takes a moment. “I just—”

“What?”

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” he finally says lowly.

“I don’t think you could,” you answer, “I’m not even now, I’m just frustrated. Or confused really. Why do you think you would?”

He lowers his ice pack, “Cause I’m not fuckin’ Rick.”

You laugh a little. “Well, I did have my suspicions, but great, that’s good to know. I’m glad you’re not fucking Rick.”

He sucks his teeth. “Be serious.”

“Have you not realized I’ve been trying to be? For weeks now? It obviously doesn’t work.” Both of you look down as you continue, “And I finally tell you how I feel and what I want and you just leave and barely talk to me for the rest of the week. And before you even mention coming into my bed at night or saying goodnight or good morning to me and telling me what you’ll do that day, that’s not talking, it's just saying stuff. At some point I can’t always chalk it up to Oh, that’s just Daryl; at some point, a person starts thinking that they're the problem. That I’m the problem! That I’m not good enough.”

A tear falls down your cheek involuntarily, then another; you were clenching your jaw after you finished speaking but it was no use. After everything, all the bullshit and the girls and the punch to his eye that really fucking hurt even though it was his fault he got it, this is actually the worst thing that has happened to Daryl in the past months– making you cry.

“You’re more than good enough,” he says in his mumble, still not looking at you. “I’m just stupid.”

“You’re not stupid!” You yell frustratingly as you wipe tears away. “Stop talking down about yourself!”

Daryl looks off into the window. He wants to speak, he does. The words are all on the tip of his tongue but they cannot come out, they never do. As he watches you wipe away your last tears, he thinks everyone is right, that that guy is right, he has a garbage mouth, his voice is poison. He never makes any sense and he always says the wrong thing. Why speak anyway?

“I can’t help you or at least try to understand if you don’t say anything. I know it's hard— I don’t like doing it either. I was scared to tell you what I did last week. But it just starts with one thing.”

“It's too hard to.”

“But I’ve never judged you, right? ”

He shakes his head. You haven’t.

“The first thing that comes to your mind when I say, ‘what’s wrong?’, what is it? Just say it. I don’t care what it is. I’m not going to judge you, I’m not going to say you’re wrong, anything—”

“People think I’m ugly,” he interrupts, “I’ve heard them say it.”

Your eyes widen, in shock for him and in shock that people could still care about such stupid things right now. “Who said that to you?”

He shakes his head. “That’s why I mentioned Rick. No one says stuff like that about Rick.”

“Well, I don’t want you to be like Rick and you don’t have to be.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

He gestures to himself, slapping his hands on his thighs, “Look at me.”

There’s something about the way his hand then reaches to cover his eyes in frustration, the way he slides it down to scratch his beard, accidentally magnifying to you the wisps of salt and pepper among the brown that gives you a clue to what he means. “I’m not some little girl, and I haven’t been for a long time.”

“I know, but you’re not my age either. And I don’t always think about you when it comes to it, it’s about me- I think about me.”

“So what about it? When it comes to the hair on your head and your eyes and the way you talk— that has nothing to do with how old you are, that’s just who you are. You didn’t choose to look as you do. And you and Rick have always looked the same age if I have to mention him, and his beard is whiter than yours at this point. Neither of you look old, or bad.” Your words do nothing so far. “You also have a better build than plenty of people in town. You’re stronger too.”

“But when they talk about Rick, all they say is that he talks too much and that he’s bossy and hardass and at least that’s true.”

You couldn’t help but smile, almost laughing a bit at that. It kind of was true.

“I’ve never heard anyone say things about him the way they say about me. Never anything about how he looks. But when they talk about me— they think I’m a fuckin’ animal.” There is silence after this. The word wild lingers in his mind and animal in yours. Again you want to ask, who could say that and have they not realized all Daryl has done for this place? Then, the more you listen, the more you realize that hidden beneath those with endless respect are some with hearts of cruelty and minds stuck in the regular old world ways that don’t exist anymore. “And sometimes, when I think about why you like me, I think that maybe it’s despite other things.”

“Despite?”

“Despite.” He practically spits.

“We all have bad qualities though. We’re not perfect.”

“I mean that I’m not some regular good looking guy.”

“Why would I want regular?” Your smile fades as his sad eyes persist. “Daryl, I can’t change your mind or make you feel the way I do about you, but why can’t you trust that I like you, and that I want to be around you? And that I’m,” you blush, “very attracted to you and I’ve felt like an embarrassing teenage girl the past few months waiting and trying to get you to have sex with me!” Quietly you say, “Have you not realized how much I really want you? How much I care? Everyday I feel lucky.”

He can’t take it. “Guess it’s like you said— can’t believe it if I don’t see it myself.”

His mouth is screwed shut, his throat tight, but just like you, it’s no use, a tear rolls down his cheek. Immediately you hug him. He holds you tightly in return and even though it makes your ribs hurt a little, you let him. All of this makes you see how much you two are alike than you’ve ever realized.

“You know,” you say into his hair, “there was this one time, I was up super early and couldn’t go back to sleep so I went out for a walk. I passed by Olivia’s house and she waved me over from her window and asked me if I could help her restock the pantry before Rick came later in the day to check it because she had this huge migraine. Well, that turned into me doing the whole thing for her. She said she was going inside for a break and some water and the next thing I know she’s asleep on her couch! And you know how her niece lives with her? I guess she runs in the morning and while I was finishing up, her and her friend lean up against one of the garage doors and I hear them talking. I was just about to open the door to leave but then she says, ‘She’s sweet but kind of a kiss-ass, right? Like a try-hard?’ And then her friend goes, ‘Yeah, she really wants to be one of them,’ ‘But all she is, is just Daryl’s little girlfriend.’” Daryl lets go to face you, his eyes incredulous just as yours were when he said someone called him ugly. “And then they started saying how I insert myself into places or something, so thought if I came out right then and they see me having done Olivia’s job for her… I didn't want them to get an up-close look of them being right. So I waited until they went in the house and then I left and for the whole rest of the week I was upset because I thought I was becoming friends with those girls but really I wasn’t, and I questioned if Rick and Michonne or Rosita or Glenn and Maggie even thought of me as a friend because they actually like me or if I’m even good enough to be one or if it’s only because I’m associated to you that they care to talk to me. I felt pathetic too.” You pause. “So, I’m really sorry, Daryl. You don’t deserve to feel like you’re being picked on in the town you live in— in the place you helped create.”

“It ain’t your fault.”

“That doesn’t make a difference. I should have said something.”

“You didn’t have to. I wanted that to happen.”

“But I wish I knew. Cause I would have if I knew. I feel like I let Michonne stop me because I didn’t understand. And all I’m saying is whether I've had it as bad as you or not, I do get it. And I’m angry for you. And you don’t have to be embarrassed to tell me things like this. It was dumb of me to keep my feelings in, just like you do with everything.”

Daryl swipes his hair to the side, parts of it are dry and waving while other areas are still wet, making him think about the rat joke. “No one likes you because of me,” he says. “You’re likable because you’re you and you care. And fuck those dumb-ass girls. They’re idiots for saying that.” He rubs your thigh. “I didn’t say anything the other day because when we were in the shower the night before I,” God, he feels stupid, “I got hard and you saw it and I realized it was the first time you saw it like that before and, I don’t know, I got scared.”

“Did you think that I’d think you’re ugly?”

“I don’t know.”

“Daryl,” you tisk, “after the amount of times we’ve showered together already?”

He gets defensive, “I don’t know! Felt different.”

“People usually get excited to know their partner is excited because of them.”

“I just feel like you’re gonna be disappointed.”

“Why do you always think that? I don’t have any expectations. I just want you to show me you love me.” You begin to look nervous, “I want to feel wanted too.”

“But I do… I do want you.”

“Then show me.”

“I don’t know how.”

You try to think, “Daryl— what is it that you picture when- when you want to do it?”

“I picture you,” he says simply.

“You do?” Your face is immediately warm.

He laughs, “Of course I do.”

“Well what do I do? Or what do you do to me?”

“Depends.”

“Pick one,” you say, almost desperately.

“Sometimes it just starts with what we always do. Kissin’. Maybe you’re on top of me.”

You waste no time; you get on top of him.

“And I press you down.” Daryl’s hands are now heavy on your hips, your hands are on his chest, you rock into him slowly.

“And sometimes I think about you bouncing on me or-” he pauses, the way you rock and the way he pushes up to you hitting a perfect spot of friction that makes the both of you gasp.

“Say it,” you tell him.

“I’m fucking you from behind. Or you're on the bottom and I’m going hard or being all gentle and shit like you but I don’t know how.”

“You know we can do all that, right?”

Daryl is red. Both you and him are surprised at yourself, but his bashfulness almost brings it out of you naturally. And honestly, your jacked and grumpy dilf boyfriend has left you repressed for far too long— you’re horny.

Suddenly, you move yourself onto one of his thighs and start palming his bulge as you rock. “Do I do this in your dreams?”

He almost groans, “Now you do.”

You move yourself from his thigh and lay down to start kissing him. He reciprocates, grabbing your face and pulling you close. Daryl starts nipping at your neck and you try your hardest not to yelp so he won’t stop. As you two continue, your slick starts to wet his boxers and you press your legs together as he gets harder under his sweatpants.

“Have you ever noticed how wet I get when we kiss?”

“Only at night,” it’s hard for his words to come out as you continue palming him, “when you don’t have clothes on.”

“And you never did anything about it?” You whine. “Do you know how bad I need you? How much I think about you?”

“I think about you more.”

“You do?

“Yes.” Daryl swallows, whimpering a little. You now stroke him, his dick riding up against his thigh, and it feels too good. “What- What do I do in your dreams?”

“You lay me on the bed and put your dick in me and fuck me and it feels amazing,” you say between hot breaths. “And you’re not scared to do it.”

“I wanna do it.”

“So, please, Daryl, do it. I want it so bad.”

Daryl uses your words as courage. He takes you off of him and goes over you.

You both take off your shirts and he strips you from his boxers and him from his sweatpants.

Finally, without regret or without him turning away you see his cock stand. It’s proud, meaty, and you can’t lie, a little scary, but you’ll never tell him, even if your widening eyes give you away. It’ll fit, you assure yourself. You won’t be afraid.

“You okay?” He asks, timidity setting in again.

But you nod assuredly. “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

You pout, he’s stalling. “When you look at me, what do you see?”

“Beautiful.”

“And you're handsome. No pretenses. No exceptions.” You come up on your knees to face him, kissing his lips softly. “It’s like we said, we’ve dreamed about this.”

You lay down again, and Daryl places his hands on your inner thighs to spread them, making space for himself. You watch as takes hold of himself, mouth agape and pumping himself a few times as he stares at your body before slowly entering you. Your pussy is drooling at the sight.

Your eyes instantly close and scrunch. Although it worries Daryl, he’s glad you’ve shut them so he can continue looking up and down— up at your face to see if you’re in pain and down as he watches his cock enter you for the first time. You were incredibly tight to him, tighter than he ever imagined, he wasn’t used to this feeling and he liked it, a lot. It made his stomach clench and all his muscles flex as his breathing gets heavier, trying to stop the possibility of him moaning at the sight of it all.

“Are you okay?”

It was big and there was something about it that felt good but it hurt, the stretch indescribable, but you nod and tell him, “I like it,” because that was true, and everything else felt like too much to explain right now, your thoughts almost dissipating.

“You sure?”

You just nod again, whining.

“Alright,” he says, putting his hands on the bed to start.

Once more your eyes screw shut. He almost takes himself out before he pushes back into you again. He doesn’t know if he went slow enough but he tried. Your eyes wrinkling because of how hard you closed them doesn’t help though. He wants to tell you to relax but he’s not even relaxed himself to even make it sound believable.

He tries again, not going so far out this time and slowly goes back in to the hilt again, so slowly in fact he thinks that must have been awkward for you. He stops, tries one more time, then stops again. Your sounds seem like you’re hurt. He knows you’ll say it’s just pain and adjustment to his size but he instantly perceives it as disgust. He knows it’s not, but he can’t help it, he can’t. He must be ‘too much’; ‘too big,’ that’s what it is. Those are things he has heard in porn tapes Merle used to give him or things he noticed in porno mags he maybe used to read that he had found in a store near Hershel’s farm all those years ago, and supposedly it was a good thing for it to be too much, but now, look at you: you were in pain. And it was taking everything in him not to ram into you. He felt pathetic, again. Stupid, again. Like he didn’t know what he was doing. Maybe he should just withdraw right now, clean you up, try to give you a sympathetic look through his hair that said he was sorry for defiling you and not even make you feel an ounce of pleasure in the process. Everyone was right, he is a joke.

“Daryl,” you say, looking up at him, “you don’t have to keep stopping for me. I just need to relax and you just need to be slow. I think I can take it.”

“I know,” he responds, kissing your forehead.

“Close your eyes,” you tell him. “Do what feels right to you. You have to trust me to tell you if it hurts or not.”

He almost laughs at that. You think he’s so strong; that he has all the power. It’s so strange to him.

Daryl puts his head in the crux of your neck, closes his eyes, and tries again. He holds your waist, thumb on your ribs and the other fingers on your back as he pushes his hips into you.

You hug his chest and feel all of it. “Make yourself feel good Daryl, it’s gonna feel so good to me if you do that, I promise.” After his 4th small pump you let out a whiny moan of relief. “Oh- okay- keep going.”

Daryl moves his elbows to the bed by your head and starts pushing his hips against you, finding a rough yet steady rhythm. He loves the slapping sound your bodies are making and can’t help but speed up. He goes deeper and you start moaning. He already feels he’s losing himself. He tries to kiss you to slow down, but realizes he can’t plow into you the same way he just found out he likes. He goes back to it and he starts grunting and groaning— there is a part of him that is embarrassed by it but it just feels so good. “Are you gonna come?” He asks between sharp thrusts.

“Don’t focus on that,” you tell him. “Stay like this. Please.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice, he really can’t think of anything anymore than continuing to pump himself in you so he does. You try your best to rock up into him, but he has full control, his hands on your hips still as tight as ever as he pushes into you, making you and the bed bounce at his mercy.

You’re more than fine with it all. Even better, you couldn’t believe this meant that Daryl was about to come inside you. Something in you knew it was about to happen. It was the way he placed his elbows by your head and started cursing and ramming into you harder and even whimpered in your ear and gave you these little puppy kisses there before getting back to it. You were surprised by how noisy he was but you didn’t dare say a word other than panting and whining back into him so he’d continue, even in moments when it felt too much and too hard. He was forgetting all his doubts and that was the goal right now. You lock your legs around his hips and tell him, “You feel amazing inside me. My handsome man,” and that does it, “Oh, fuck,” he says as he releases every last drop of himself inside you.

Now, as he slows down, he looks at you, thumb on your bottom lip and chin as he tries his best to keep rolling his hips on you as he comes down from his high, but you ask, “Will you kiss me down there, Daryl? I’ve always wanted that.”

“You don’t want me to make you come?”

“I think it’ll happen if you do it like that. I just want to know what it feels like.”

He stops for a moment deciding if this means he’s failed or not, but he simply says, “Okay,” all kindly and nodding like it was your idea even though it was because this means another one of his dreams were coming true.

Instantly, he’s licking you, feeling more assured of what he could do— this was one of his most vivid fantasies so even though he doesn’t know for sure, he thinks he’s got.

“Oh, oh my god,” his tongue is bringing up wetness to your clit and sucking on it, “that’s good.” He starts licking your clit, going fast, “Daryl, that’s so good.”

He looks up at you, dazed already, “Yeah?”

“Oh, yes.” You fix his hair and he loves the feeling. Truly, he was going a little too fast actually, going up and down and this way and that way too much, but the sounds his mouth and your pussy were making together were too glorious. You let him go, you let him be proud, and either way, you’re whining and moaning because of it. He’s perfectly imperfect and he doesn’t even know it. But you’re too in love with the feeling of him to explain what that means right now so all you say is what he told you about yourself in the church, “I think you’re just perfect.”

To that, he stops again and he looks up at you, smiling. It’s one of those rare ones he seldom does, teeth and all, and your slick coating his lips all the while. His eyes are shining, and he gives you the smallest, sweetest, most innocent kiss to the most obscene place on your body— your clit.

At this point all your sounds have been short, quiet, filled with whines but to this, you moan at the sight, full and loud. It’s involuntary. It’s pornographic. It’s the hottest thing he’s ever heard in his life. His cock stirs, springing up again as he goes back to giving you your first and forever the most slobberiest head of your life.

After a while he beckons you from below, “Hey, angel,” he calls.

“Mm,” you respond lightly. You’re nearly blissed out. He’s going to make you come.

“I think those girls were right.”

Your eyes become so cute yet so sad— you just want him on you again. “What do you mean?”

“You are sweet. Sweetest thing I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Oh,” you whisper, moaning again as he goes back to licking your clit. “Oh. Fuck.”

He starts licking and kissing your puffy lips, making wet sounds with his tongue, slurping little bits of you where he can. He loves how slick and noisy your pretty pussy is. Your clit throbs and he hums into it all dark and grumbled and husky going, “Mmmmmm.”

You tell him, “God, it’s so good, Daryl.” To which he responds, referring to a different it, “And it’s mine.”

Oh, so he’s cocky now? Well, that’s new for him. You lay back at the thought, at the feeling, reveling in delight.

Here he is, finally.

[catboybiologist]

With a lot more blatantly conservative viewpoints being said in the open, a lot of people are expressing the sentiment that they feel stupid for having lived in an echo chamber where they never heard viewpoints that are apparently commonplace. I haven't had too much of this feeling, because I feel like a lot of the hateful shit was there out in the open if you weren't blind to it.

I think I finally had my moment during the inauguration, though, for something weirdly specific.

In my head, I have never thought of space exploration as anything other than scientific inquisition and wonderment. Sure, there's immense material resources out there for the future, and a lot of people are already capitalizing on that. But most people agree that that's not the primary motivation behind pushing to the stars. There's some greater sense to it, a feeling that tops into the core of many people and stirs you. I thought that this feeling was the same in everyone: the same scientific wonder and curiosity I've always felt. This, in my head, made it easy to see why space exploration was being largely defunded. I know that not everybody has this sense. I know that this is a very fluffy feeling, unpopular in many political environments. So I thought that apathy and slow slashes to the NASA budget were the opposite of my way of thinking.

My rude awakening were the words "manifest destiny".

I feel really dumb, but I genuinely did not realize that people saw it this way. Like, true space colonization is the stuff of sci-fi, right? The type of colonization we're talking about here is like scientific outposts. Antarctica style. And maybe someday, those will eventually organically grow into their own cities and societies.

I feel so fucking stupid. It's so goddamn obvious to me now, but thinking of this shit as manifest destiny? The idea of power for the sake of power of control of land for the sake of control of land? Thinking about it in terms of exploration for purpose other than knowledge? As a "pushing of boundaries"? I genuinely did not realize that was a legitimate viewpoint people had. But it's so fucking obvious in retrospect. Of fucking course.

At least there's no native people on Mars. At least not human. But if there is some microbe or even larger organism out there, I hope we take proper precautions.

This isn't an outrage post. There's plenty to be outraged about in terms of invoking "manifest destiny" in any context (genuinely as reprehensible as the salute), its just me feeling bewildered and stupid.

[togglesbloggle]

We're in the early hype cycle for Civ 7, which is all well and good- Civ is Civ, it's gonna be amazing and completely destroy large chunks of global productivity for a while. They're doing an unusually good job of targeting me in particular this time- the "build something you believe in" ad copy is one of those sentiments that has root access to my brain.

But anyway, sifting through the pre-release details has me thinking again about the... I guess you'd call it a 4x game still, but the game that part of me always wishes Civ was. I think a lot of people probably have a sort of personal 'Civ Prime' in their heads, actually, the secret changes they'd make if it was 'their' game. My own Civ Prime goes like this:

Actually-existing Civ always takes the stance that cultures create persons; you build a settler, send it off to some promising river valley, and plonk down a town. The glorious leader then directs the citizens to harvest and cultivate the fertile land around them, and surpluses of food allow the population to grow.

As a corollary, the map in actually-existing Civ starts out nearly empty; aside from a few barbarian camps and city states (or in Civ 7, the 'independent settlements'), the area outside your borders is in a pristine state of nature. And that's all well and good for game purposes, but in "my" Civ I'd reverse this entirely: civilization, not as some supra-human entity that creates and defines humans, but as a narrative that structures their identities and guides their values.

Consider a hex map of the usual sort, but the yields per tile are the local surplus, that is, the amount that tax collectors can extract from the people indigenous to that location without killing them. You begin play at the dawn of agriculture, as a leader/stationary bandit with enough military support and personal legitimacy to enforce those taxes, funnel the surplus towards a centralized urban center, and direct it towards military, priest, or artisan classes. Every hex is a conquest in miniature; at least at first, the size of your territory is directly downstream of your military strength.

That strength is tracked as "Might" or some such civ-wide stat, initially a strict function of how much wealth (that is, grain) that you feed in to it. This represents loosely organized, loyal bravi who are in your employ; they go to hexes you designate, dominate the locals, and render a tile 'productive'. In times of crisis, you can- very temporarily- initiate a levy to make these become traditional army units (and indeed this is the only source of such units, at first). As long as these exist, they are tremendously destructive to any hex they're on, friendly or otherwise, acting as a natural disaster that damages future tile yields for several turns; if every tile around them is already so damaged, they disband automatically. And of course these 'crystalized' forms of Might reduce the 'liquid' Might you have to control tiles, so lengthy wars will also see borders destabilize because you can no longer enforce order in the outer hexes.

But of course military strength isn't the only priority; grain (and later, currency, etc.) sent to the Artisan class allows you to slowly build permanent structures, which have their own bonuses as you'd expect. It's a time-horizon question; investment in Might is a larger immediate bonus, including higher revenues, but wealth spent on infrastructure accumulates.

This is also how you seed new urban areas: Artisans can build things like fortresses, temples, etc. (depending on the initial bonuses that you want) on rural hexes that are distant from existing cities, with tribute from hexes always flowing to the nearest such seed. That wealth in turn supports the new military, industrial, and cultural classes centered on that hex. This can also happen automatically in neutral territories; wherever there are large volumes of unclaimed surplus, NPC urban centers are liable to form at random and begin acting as your opponents.

You can also invest in "Culture," which in the early days generally means a priest caste. And this is where I get a bit clever.

Culture is an umbrella for anything that counts as "an idea", everything from religious formation, to technology, to philosophical ideas and organizing ideologies. There's a base track, mostly 'pure idea' stuff like mysticism and foundational concepts like writing and lawmaking; throw in a few unique ones for your chosen Civ identity (Egyptians get something about handling river flooding, whatever). And every point invested in Might and Artisan classes also helps unlock new ideas to be researched here; once you open those up, they can be researched here with Culture points. All contain some kind of advantage; new types of army units to levvy, new structures to build, higher yields or new types of resources to extract from the map- the usual.

The trick with culture unlocks is, they're not bonuses for you only. Ideas appear in the urban hex where they're researched, but they spread to adjacent hexes at some fixed rate, hopping from tile to tile and stopped only by uninhabited regions like mountain ranges or extreme deserts that don't have a high enough population- and following trade networks from city to city especially quickly. For example, "irrigation" would be an idea that greatly increases grain surpluses in every hex near a river, both for your territory and for neutral or even enemy hexes as it spreads.

As compensation, whenever your ideas spread to a hex, you gain a slowly-decaying bonus on that space called authority, which means that you require less military force to extract its surplus, and it's easier for you to contest the tile against another sovereign. This attenuates with distance from the originating point, but if you're investing in Culture at a good clip, the hexes immediately around your urban centers will be very cheap or even free to extract wealth from. If you're really booking it, hexes will spontaneously submit to you without ever being formally dominated. This creates an "imperial core" dynamic as the game matures, with your military might being concentrated in the provinces, and allows you to extend your reach much further than you otherwise would, extract wealth accordingly, and push yourself in to a virtuous feedback loop / golden age where you snowball outwards with both territorial gains and rapid intellectual progress.

The double-secret trick here is that authority decays; spreading ideas to a tile can only secure its loyalty for so long before they become the 'new normal'. With proper tuning, every civ's "golden age" period would last for a while, but then when it inevitably reached natural barriers or other obstacles, this would reverse into a death spiral. Absent further expansion, authority would begin decaying faster than it was gained, first in the outer provinces; military expansion would give way to managing a cascade of discontent and rebellions, which would further weaken the imperial core- and so on, unto dissolution.

The triple-secret trick is this: rural hexes are just hexes, but when a fully fledged city rebels against the sovereign empire, the player can declare the rebel city to be the 'true inheritor' of their legacy, and jump ship. In other words, you can take either side in a civil war. This switch triggers the legacy empire to become a more passive computer-controlled entity, and gives the emergent civilization a slew of cheap new ideas to promote, rapidly building their own authority- which of course has particular bonuses against their former overlords. Humankind and Civ 7 both implement an "Ages" system to simulate the rise and fall of civilizations over time, but this has the virtue of being a more organic/emergent property. Instead of artificially converting every Roman city in to the HRE in one fell swoop, the HRE emerges from the rotting carcass of Rome at a single point and carves out its own sovereignty by the sword.

And now you face an interesting dilemma while you play: authoritarian social policies like suppressing foreign ideas can secure the longevity of your empire for centuries longer than it might otherwise last, but you know that sooner or later, the empire you're now controlling will be your immediate opponent during a new phase of expansion. Permissive social policies and liberal attitudes to trade and ideas will make that rebirth go further, faster, than it otherwise would. So do you defend the power you have now? Or do you make yourself vulnerable to your own future?

[okwonyo]

SUGAR TALKING ꒪ ✿⠀ making doe eyes at them.

TESTI ────── 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝖾, 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾. 𝗅𝖾𝗍’𝗌 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄 !

❪ 日语 ❫ & fem!rea 1OOO fluff established relationship non-idol au ❜ skinship kissing ◜‿◝ REBLOGS&CLICK

지아 ⠀⦂⠀ since it won the poll :O

HEESEUNG

usually, he isn’t the the type to talk too much during movie nights. his hand always in yours as he watches the movie enthusiastically, never missing one bit of it.

but today it seems different— you don’t really know if it’s either because he is very passionate about this specific actor or if it’s because you called the said actor ‘hot’. but he won’t stop talking.

“seriously!” he huffs after a few seconds of calm. he smiles and shakes his head in fake nonchalance, “i don’t understand what he has that i don’t. do you prefe—”

the rest of his sentence dies in his throat when his eyes meet yours. you look at him wide eyed, with a little pout that makes his heart skip.

“shut up please,” you ask with a honey coat voice— his eyes grow wide. he is soon giggling, leaning on you, as if what you just said wasn’t almost an insult.

at least he stops talking.

⠀ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹙ᵕ ᵕ⠀look under the cut ! ♡

JAY

it is not a secret that you can get anything you want out of him. whether it’s his money or the entire world— you ask and you shall receive.

therefore, you don’t need to do anything else but ask for something that you want. because you know you got him wrapped around your finger. and that, if you wanted the moon, then you will have the moon.

sometimes, however, there is things that can’t be bought or that are hard to ask for. today, you want his attention.

you decided to not go bother him as you usually do. no, you choose to stare at him from across the room with the most bambi looking eyes you could manage. he should have noticed by now.

the long silence is what alarms him. he looks over you quickly, “are you—” then he looks again and his mouth falls agape. he sighs fondly, “c’mere, baby,”

JAKE

it’s not your fault. it really isn’t. he shouldn’t have been so easy to tease in the first place. getting a blush out of him is too easy and he is way too lovely for you to control yourself.

and ever since he confessed that he loved when you looked at him with those yes— you cannot stop looking at him with those eyes.

for a while, he is too occupied on his phone to even notice. but when his eyes shoots up to meet yours, he immediately smiles.

instinctively biting his lower lip, he stays silent for a while before throwing his head back and whining, “stop doing that!”

your eyes keep watching his growing blush as you laugh, “like what?” and he groans.

SUNGHON

he swears you do it all the time, but the truth is that you don’t even know what he is talking about. he mays affirm that you play dumb in purpose— you don’t, you really don’t.

the thing is that, he would say that you are trying to seduce him whenever you try to do anything. you run a hand through you hair? you want to make out. you grin? you want him to kiss you.

you just assumed he was that down bad.

“you are playing with me,” he smirks, looking down at you. your bodies moves along with the train you are standing in. you were already looking at him, but now there is confusion in your eyes. “don’t look at me like that.”

“what?” you giggle. honestly, you didn’t even know you were looking at him. admiring him is natural as breathing to you, “are you crazy?”

“when you look at me like that,” he whispers as he leans in. your arms are hugging his waist, your head is all the way titled up and he is so handsome, “my heart beats with need.”

SUNOO

you know he doesn’t get mad often— even if he does act like he is. he is too much of a softie to even think of being annoyed with you.

more times than not, he gets sulky. lips puckered as he gives you the silent treatment. it is always for silly things, however, just because he loves when you ask him to talk to you.

“i love you,” you tell him, holding onto his arm. he doesn’t do anything, obviously hiding his smile—and failing. “look at me.”

he takes a deep breath before bringing his focus on your instead of the dishes in front of him. his eyes fall into yours, “stop,” he says. turning red.

he tries to keep his annoyed attitude as hard as possible. he starts to take care of the dishes in the sink again— as if, trying to distract himself.

he keeps peeking at you. unable to control himself, he ends up crumbling. he hides his face in the crook of your neck in embarrassment.

JUNWGON

“my love, i’ll have to go eventually,” his tone is soft, his chuckles makes it harder for you to even consider letting him leave the bed and let him leave you.

he is not even gone. he is sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you. you hold his hand with both of yours— chasing after his warmth that you already miss.

you don’t really care where he is going, you want him here. you make the most adorable eyes you can put up, in a tiny voice you say, “can’t you stay a little longer?”

he seems a tad taken aback. on of his eyebrows shots up ever so slightly. pretty red lips forms a ‘o’ and his dimples smiles when he smiles.

gets back under the cover, close to you. he kisses you gently, “work can wait.”

RIKI

“leave me alone!” your boyfriend whines, faking annoyance. he is laying on your bed, next to your plushies, with his hands on your hips as you sit on

him. he acts like he wants to push you away but his grip is way too strong.

he gets up, rather abruptly, making you settle on his laps. he makes sure you are as comfortable as possible but holds your wrists when you try to reach his hair.

“just a few!” giggles makes your voice tremble. you try to get out of his handle but you can’t— he is much stronger that you, “please!”

he looks at the hello kitty hairpins in your hands with narrowed eyes. he doesn’t look against the idea at all, you know he just fights because of principle, “no!”

you tilt your head to the side slightly, the prettiest pout appearing on your lips. you look at him with a specific look— the one who made him choked on his drink the first time. “please, for me,”

you are already wearing a victorious grin as soon as he groans. he ends up with more than just a few hairpins in his hair.

taglist open + net— @sgz-net

[petermorwood]

And still with us as of 21st January 2025.

Here's one I hadn't heard before. As someone who experienced the conversion from Old Money to New, I understand.

At least I understand the theory, but since I didn't and still don't have the Master's Degree in Mathematics which he recommends, the practice leaves me as baffled as before.

Suffice to say that both in UK New Money and later in Euro, decimal makes a lot more sense than this song.

*****

Writer Note - for general info about what pre-decimal currency was like, check this video. It's Old Currency Info Lite, and a bit sloppy about details.

It flubs a couple of things, completely overlooking that there were other banknotes than the one-pound note.

Five- and ten-pound notes were in use, though growing less common in ordinary circumstances as their value increased. The largest denomination an ordinary person might carry were fivers, and perhaps an occasional tenner.

At the other end of this scale was a ten-shilling note, something lucky kids might receive through the post, tucked into the birthday or Christmas card sent by a particularly doting relative.

Speaking as one of those lucky kids, leaving out the ten-bob note is IMO a reprehensible oversight.

*****

The video could also make it clearer that gold guinea and half-guinea coins were long out of circulation by the time decimal currency came in. Gold sovereign and half-sovereign coins were also long gone from street use, reserved for investment and bullion transfer instead.

Pricing of goods and services in guineas continued after the coins went away, used for "snob value" to prove the purchaser could pay more when buying things like land or property, tailored suits or horses, and paying professional fees to lawyers and doctors.

(It may also have a "baker's dozen" aspect, with the purchaser adding a bit extra to offset any risk of seeming stingy, or as a way of adding commission to the sale - though TBH, for most purposes it's more likely to be snobbish.)

*****

The video also suggests that a crown (five-shilling coin) was regularly used for shopping right up to decimalisation. Beg to differ. During my pre-decimal lifetime I never saw one as pocket change. Half-crown yes, crown no.

After QEII's coronation in 1952, the crown coin was AFAIK only ever issued as a commemorative, so while it remained legal tender and could be used in shops, it was invariably just kept as a souvenir.

*****

As Terry Pratchett once put it: "British people resisted decimal currency for a long time because they thought it was too complicated."

But with all that said, and lacking a scientific study to confirm or deny it, I wouldn't be surprised to learn that pre-decimal people were better at mental arithmetic, if only as a survival measure...

I cannot overstate how much I love Tom Lehrer's story. It sounds so fake but is entirely real.

He's a goddamn genius- he started studying mathematics at Harvard when he was 15 and graduated magna cum laude. He worked at Los Alamos for a few years before being drafted and working for the NSA, where he claims to have invented jello shots to get around alcohol bans.

He then went back to Harvard for a couple years before starting to teach political science at MIT.

Through all of that, he was writing and performing both some of the funniest shit you'll ever hear (Poisoning Pigeons in the Park, Masochism Tango) and absolutely scathing political satire (Who's Next, Wernher von Braun, Send the Marines). Until the mid/late 60s counterculture gained momentum. He didn't like their aesthetic, so he stopped making music.

Shortly after, he moved to California and started teaching math and musical theater history at the UC Santa Cruz for the next 30 years.

I don't know if non-Californians understand just how goddamn funny that is. It's where stoners and math (and now computer science) kids who couldn't get into Berkeley go. Leaving Harvard/MIT for UCSC is peak academic phoning it in. And by all accounts he had a blast.

Plus the whole putting all of his music in the public domain thing. That fucked.

[veggiesxxx]

When they get jealous (HCs)

Rafayel (1/4)

- He's not afraid to show you how affected he is by it

- he absolutely will complain and believes you're abandoning him

- a dehydrated fish, 'drying out'

- when you get irritated by the pouty whining he'll apologise

- will subtly bring up your past together as a silent plea to not leave him

- he exaggerates what happened that made him jealous for sympathy points

- doesn't mean whatever he says about you going to leave him— would rather paint an ugly picture and sign it than have you more than 3 feet away from him.

- take care of him pls (he says with watery eyes ☹️)

Sylus (2/4)

- Jealous? No, not him.

- Definitely not him.

- acts like he was just concerned about his kitten's safety, thats why he's brooding around with Mephisto on his shoulder

- when in reality he's afraid you're gonna leave him.

- will not let go of your hand after the incident for at least a week

- insists you wear the brooch he gave you every day after that— wear it in your hair if you have to— even if it doesn't match

- wants it to be the first thing you tell people about when you meet them

- in his head, it goes: "hi. look at this thing my lover gave me. Yeah, *blocks them*"

Zayne (3/4)

- it's him. he's jealous.

- you can't accept gifts from guys. that's a no no.

- if you do happen to accept something while he's not there, trust me, he'll find out

- he will mail the gift back to the sender with a polite restraining order

- if you get upset with him for it, he will just smile at you and pet your head. He's already prepared for it. He took an off-day to spend time with you. He knows his little hunter is smart enough to realise he sent the gift back.

- he doesnt mind listening to you scold and berate him, only occasionally giving you some intelligent-ass remark or response that forces you to pause

- his remark will make you get more pissed at him and scold him more indignantly

- to be honest, he does it on purpose. He just likes to hear your voice.

Xavier (4/4)

- sulk. sulk. sulk. that's all that's on his mind

- he's clueless on how else to respond. you surely can't expect him to actually be upfront about his feelings, right? it's much easier to just wait for his adorable star to comfort him.

- and it makes him feel better when he knows you can tell when he's upset— and you don't tell him how obvious he is either

- he thinks he hides it well, actually. And he'll regard you as a really good significant other because you know what he's feeling

- he has a low tolerance for jealousy, so after a few times of this in succession, sprinkling him with affection isn't enough to stop his sulking

- will take his anger out on anything other than you

- wishes he could punch the other man/men in the face

- why do people need to be spared if they're as dangerous as wanderers?

- dangerous as in going to steal his beloved's heart, of course. in his opinion, thats worse than a wanderer.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

(Click on their names to link to respective POV oneshot)

[rafeysdeer]

imperfect for you (aka insecure reader x comforting rafe)

kook!reader x rafe cameron

prompt: a party that was supposed to be relaxing and to clear the head goes terribly wrong, leaving a very anxious and insecure reader, good thing she has her very caring boyfriend who knows exactly how to take care of her.

a/n: okay, that's the first time i write for rafe, i really like obx and rafe, so i tried my best in here, but i didn't really like it, i think it's bcs it's my first time writing about him. english is not my first language, i hope you guys like it 💗

You weren't exactly excited about going to this party, but you knew your boyfriend was, and you didn't want to be a party pooper, and at least you'd be with him, nothing bad would happen if you gave up and went to a party, right?

Well, you were wrong, terribly wrong, even though you were a kook, you never exactly fit in, you never got the right friends, and even though you were pretty, guys just didn't seem to be interested in you.

That was until, Rafe Cameron laid eyes on you, in your little sundress, having a drink at the club, just looking for some peace, you looked almost ethereal in his eyes, and he just knew you were meant to be together, it took a while to convince you of that. You spent most of the talk thinking it was some bad joke, because there was no way, Rafe Cameron, the king of kooks, was there, talking to you, interested in you and not on your hot friend, or literally anyone else.

You two get along almost instantly, his charm had you wrapped around his finger, and you loved it.

It had been months since you two started dating, but you still didn't feel like you fit into his social circle. So when, the first moment he separated from you at the party, a girl purposely bumped into you, spilling her drink on your short dress and whispering 'Whore' in your ear, you were sure.

Rafe didn't get it why you suddenly looked so upset, but he wanted everything, but to see his girl upset, so when he suggested for you, that you two go home, you happily headed towards the truck.

"Sweetheart, you need to talk to me. What the hell happened that you suddenly look like a kicked puppy?" and it only took his playful words for you to burst into tears in the passenger seat, it wasn't just the girl or the stained dress, everything looked too much, and you looked so small, a girl being an bitch was all you needed to lose it.

Rafe immediately looked at you with his blue eyes filled with concern. "Hey, love, I was just kidding, you don't look like a kicked puppy, I swear." he says trying to understand what happened to make you break down.

You looked up at him, your pretty eyes shining with tears. "I just-, I don't feel like I fit in, Rafey, like i fit right in with you, but i'm just unwanted by everyone else," she says, her voice cracking with tears. "I tried to fit in, but I've been around these people my whole life, and they've never liked me, and now I feel like I'm holding you back, or making them look down at you"

Now, he looks like a kicked puppy as he looks at you with a worried expression. "Honey, you don't have to fit in, those people at the party, they don't like me either, they look at me like shit too and that's not your fault, not at all, you don't need to fit in with them because you think you have to because of me, the only person I need by my side, is you."

She blinks her bright eyes at him, as if the words had run away from her mind. The car stops in front of the house, and he gets out, opening the door for her, greeting her with a kiss before the words even come back to her. "I love you, no matter what any of those assholes think, because you're the one who's here for me, not them."

She looks at him, looking almost wonderstruck, a smile breaking across her face, wrapping her arms around his neck. "The only person I need is you, Rafe," she says, knowing that the feeling was mutual. "What do you say we go inside, put you in some comfy clothes, and watch Sex and the City?" She laughs at how well he knows her as they walk into the house, his hand around her waist.

"Sounds perfect."

[mscherub]

Right, so…you’re transported to a new world, and me being the science geek I am, I can’t help but think of all the bacteria you wouldn’t be accustomed to in Twisted Wonderland…so imagine how bad flu season would be, or just the spreading of sicknesses around the school in general

You better have a good immune system cause oml would it be put into overdrive. Anyways…here’s my twist on what the Diasomnia boys would do in order to be helpful in your recovery ❤️‍🩹

Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia

Warnings!:

Sickness, obviously

Mentions of vomiting, snot, etc

To start us off…

It’s flu season in Twisted Wonderland, well you call it the flu, they call it something else you don’t even bother to learn. With you’re immune so shot and not used to the illnesses that spread around, getting sick more often that you honestly should, you woke up with a headache. Ok…nothing too serious, but you thought it to be a good idea to just take some ibuprofen equivalent in their world and “thug it out,” which ultimately lead to your current situation. Currently, you’re in the infirmary, having passed out from a raging fever and a disgustingly congested respiratory system during PE and you’re bed ridden back at ramshackle, at least until your fever goes down. Sevens bless Grim and the ghosts as they try and get you things to feel better, but you need some sort of intervention, and here comes you’re favorite person at the right time. How do they help you out?

Malleus 🐉:

For one, he’s surprised you called upon him of all people, but hey, he’s not complaining. He’s been training for this day somewhat because Gao-Gao Drakon-kun has taught him how to take care of things and keep them alive, though, granted it’s a lot different in this case…but he can get an A for effort, at least. The thought that counts

He’ll sit by your side and ask you what exactly are your ailments, how he can help, all just to gauge what he should do…your very different from a tamagotchi—

Pillows, blankets, anything else? He’ll magic it right your way, probably casting some spell on it, possibly a relaxation one, which would be nice for your predicament

Of course he’ll also have food covered as well, what do you want? Eat it or don’t depending on how you feel, he won’t be mad at all, he’ll just be confused as to why you won’t eat, he's pretty sure humans need to eat to get better quickly, but he won’t pry

He’ll scoff at the medicines your assigned to take and he’ll go make you ancient and passed down remedies from Briar Valley, claiming they work better…and awkwardly enough they do perform a lot better than what you were taking before, so that’s a win because maybe you’ll get better even faster

He’ll let his magic do the work for cleaning.

He’s also not afraid to get sick, he’ll sit with you, he��s more than happy to. No being grossed out here, if anything, it’s quite peculiar how differently illnesses affect humans

He’ll be smug about taking care of you. This is the first time he's done this for a friend, especially as one as good as you.

Lilia 🧚‍♀️:

Bros gonna fuck around with you as soon as he sees you, sorry. But yet again, he does have that paternal side to him, and you just look so…helpless, and he’s not cold hearted, so of course he’ll stay and take care of you

Don’t let him cook, don’t if you wanna live!

If you refuse to eat what he makes you he’ll start getting snippy and uncharacteristically strict, saying how you need to eat to keep up your energy so your body can fight away this illness. Just keep refusing his food, if you’re not hungry then that should be fine and rather easy, but if you are, have him go buy you a little snack. Better than you not eating at all he’ll finally conclude to

He’s also a little iffy with the medicines, again with the cooking, he'll try to make a medicinal item out of herbs and stuff…probably toxic instead of the intended purpose, so don’t take it, trust me. “Oh? My, my…I didn’t realize it would turn out to be a poison! Silly me. Good thing you didn’t have any beastie.” he will laugh it off.

But, he’d still give you the medicines you need, don’t worry. He’s serious when he needs to be, and you’re recovery is important to him right now

He’ll mess around with Grim and the ghosts as you lie in bed, having a little fun himself, but if you need anything, he’ll change up quick and be by your side

Blankets, water, pillows, he’s got it under cover

He’s not scared to get sick himself so he’ll stay close to your side, most likely gently cooing at you and relishing in how you’re just so cute like this

Be warned he will randomly disappear at times, but if you call him he’ll pop up in front of you, upside down as usual. But, he’ll make sure Ramshackle is quiet while you rest, don’t worry

Silver ⚔️:

He’s honored to help you out, so he’ll do so without complaint

When it comes to those he holds dear, he’ll become more protective and do what he can to help them, and you just so happen to be in that group of people, and especially with your state, you’ll be pampered. Since Silver is tasked with watching over Malleus, he’ll do the same for you

What do you need? Well, he’s already on it, actually, so don’t worry.

Food he has under control definitely, man has to save himself from Lilia’s cooking all the time and he’s learned from a young age, so whatever you want he’ll conjure up real quick. Eat it or don’t, if you’re not hungry he’ll understand and save it for later

Do be patient with him, however, he has his sleepy spells and make sure Grim is with Silver if he’s cooking at that moment, though trusting Grim to take over if Silver does fall asleep isn’t really a great option, either-

Oh! He’s awake again, ok, medications, yea, right. If he doesn’t forget to give them to you after he falls asleep, then you’ll be fine. If he does forget, remind him, he’ll apologize and be right on it

When he’s not tending to you he’ll do stuff around Ramshackle, his pet peeve is idleness, so…

He’ll clean up and make sure the rest of the inhabitants are ok

After that, he’ll go back to your room and sit in the armchair, he’s not afraid to get sick, and he’ll doze off along with you

Sebek ⚡️:

Well…he’s going to chastise you severely while he helps you. He’ll say he’s only doing it because you’re Wakasama’s good friend, and that’s the only reason why, not that he’s actually doing this because he wants to and he feels bad, no, definitely not that. “Human! I shall only provide assistance on Wakasama’s behalf!”

He’ll belittle you every time he speaks, and if you have a headache already, just get good at ignoring him yap

Again just like with Silver, his duty is to watch over Malleus, so he’ll evidently do the same with you in a sense since that’s what he’s learned. He'll wait in your room, sitting in the arm chair, most likely reading.

He’s learned to cook well enough for himself, obviously, due to Lilia’s cooking, so he’ll provide you with more nutrient dense meals if you ask him to. He won’t do it unless you ask, he doesn’t wasn’t to assume

Sebek will make sure you take your medications religiously until you're better, it’s your duty, and he always follows his duties, you should, too.

He’ll clean up here and there, make sure Grim and the ghosts are in line, and he’ll grab you anything else you could possibly want, again, not without some complaint. “Humans are weak creatures!” He doesn’t really mean it in a mean way…he’s just being honest 🤷‍♀️

He’ll try and be quiet while you sleep, but forgive him if he yells at Grim at all and wakes you up-

Afterwards he’ll probably get sick himself, feel free to make fun of him then, KARMA

IM DONEEEE! Sorry I took my sweet ass time with Diasomnia, oh lord…

Also, I realized I made each one progressively longer for each character as I progressed through the dorms, so…whoops 🧍‍♀️(I yap too fucking much-)

But hey, now I can start on a new series, just gotta come up with one- or, someone could suggest one if anyone has any ideas!

Btw, requests and asks are open!!! ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ

Master list

Please don’t steal or copy any of my work! You may, however, reblog if you’d want to!

Pictures belong to Disney Twisted Wonderland but are edited by me :)

[petite-guignol]

i dont know if i want to revive my FFXIV OC blog, where this would be relevant because he is actually an arcanist, but

the thing is that the job of managing one of the biggest ports in the entire world, in a setting which has a lot of tech/magic advancements that would increase manufacturing, trade, and communication but notably NOT anything like a computer for storing and processing information (at least not on a wide, usable scale)...

that's like, a staggeringly huge task, and that's not even accounting for stuff that has no counterpart in the real world, like the wizard crimes mentioned in the tags or like, the fact that you have to account for like a dozen different sentient species on a daily basis, or the fact that the world keeps almost ending.

keeping all of that organized and running, in a city populated largely by former pirates under a series of tenuous and complicated alliances, IS an epic feat for a guild of magicians to undertake, i think

we learn in Aloalo Island that modern arcanima is partially descended from the scholars of Nym, who were also known for their logistical skills (their main shield spell is even called "adloquium", Latin for an address or exhortation -- for a while this led me to headcanon that the "shield" is just the mechanical representation of the scholar's quick thinking and incredible tactical advice, and while it's pretty clear now that they also have actually physical geometric math barriers, I still think this is somewhat true). and both Mhach and Amdapor seem to have found Nym to be incredibly threatening, even though they didn't seem to actually be at war with them per se and Nym was a good deal smaller. Mhach even ended up creating a voidsent plague specifically to wipe out the scholars and then took the ADDITIONAL step of deleting the city from existence with whatever the fuck Ozma is

modern arcanima combines that with the advanced geometry which was used by the people of the south seas islands for some flashy stuff like summoning magical guardians but also for more down-to-earth purposes like maintaining records and preserving knowledge

what the arcanists' guild does is simultaneously a staggering undertaking that might very reasonably require the full attention of powerful wizards and the most mundane boring pencil-pusher shit you've ever seen

that's my favorite thing about them

also its maybe worth noting that one of the only glimpses we get into the actual culture of Amdapor is a record in one of the gubal library dungeons of a painfully long bureaucratic meeting about how they were going to name different healing spells. i know this is a joke but also maybe they could have benefited from hiring an independent Nymian consultant rather than like, killing them and shoving their soul crystals into automatons, ya know?

arcanists: we wield the most complex form of magic... arcanima. one must master arcane geometry to weave patterns that respect the flow of aether, which in turn will create powerful creature that can help you in combat. this is very dangerous and very powerful, it's not for the weak of mind

also arcanists: anyway we use that power to inspect ship crates lmao

[sundrop-writes]

Trouble Is...

Thomas (The Maze Runner) x Fem!Reader

All that I know is I just can’t say ‘no’ to you,

Funny how things never change.

All that I wanted was just to get over you.

Trouble is - I can’t find a way.

You’re part of me.

Trouble Is - you’re part of me.

Summary:

Now out of The Maze, everyone is enjoying their newfound sense of safety. Everyone except for Thomas.

He can’t enjoy the soft beds or the clean clothes or the food, because he’s too worried about you. You’re quarantined off somewhere else (presumably with other girls), and he hasn't seen you in days.

When he finally sees you, he’s too thankful to question why the two of you are put in a room alone together. Too thankful to question the mysterious smoke that’s pumped into the room. Too thankful to question why the door is locked.

Thomas (TMR) x Fem!Reader. Friends to Lovers. Smut/PWP. Sex Pollen. Set during The Scorch Trials. 

Word Count: 7,900

The Maze Runner Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: general warning that any and all TMR fics I write will be based on the movies and not the books, so any lore inaccuracies can be blamed on that; also this is a YA series, but DoB was in his 20s when he played Thomas, so for our purpose, these characters are aged up to at least 19 or 20; often sex pollen comes with a dubcon warning, but I’m not sure that applies here - these characters have a great deal of pre-existing affection for each other (I might even go so far as to say that they are in love), and they would have intensely enthusiastic consent, even without chemical enhancement; the reader does have some mental hesitation when she feels the pollen taking effect, but it’s not because she doesn’t want to have sex with Thomas, it’s because of PTSD from WCKD and feeling suspicious towards them (and when Thomas assures her that he will ‘take care of her’, she enthusiastically consents to having sex); warnings for unethical science because our characters do not know that they are part of a science experiment and have not consented to have these chemicals used on them (but that is just the canon of WCKD); the reader character has a vagina and uses she/her pronouns; this fic DOES USE Y/N; this fic uses the beautiful age old trope that the reader character was the only girl in The Maze; mentions of the mental and emotional effects of isolation - the reader has been isolated from everyone else since leaving The Maze and Thomas is the first of her friends that she sees in days; this is mostly just smut with very little plot; because of the canon, both characters have had their memories erased and theoretically might be virgins or might not be virgins (yes, in the book, they were put into the Maze as ‘children’, but as I said, for my purposes, everyone is aged up) - so I am not explicitly stating if this is their first sexual experience or not, but this is their first sexual experience as a couple/first sexual experience with each other; as mentioned before, the main point of this is sex pollen - in the form of a mysterious sci-fi chemical compound that is injected into a locked room by WCKD as a part of a random experiment; scent kink - Thomas loves the way Reader smells (and has since long before being dosed with sex pollen); orgasm from clit stimulation through clothing; oral sex - reader receiving; hair pulling - Thomas receiving; unprotected penis in vagina sex; there is NO breeding kink here (the characters aren’t motivated or turned on by the idea of having a baby); there is creampie kink - Thomas does not pull out, and the characters are turned on by the idea of him cumming inside of her; Thomas is very possessive in this fic (but it’s almost unconscious, as a need to keep the reader safe, not in a jealous or romantic way); cockwarming - they fall sleeping while Thomas’s cock is still inside of the reader; the ending is slightly bittersweet (it’s implied that the reader is kidnapped/hurt by WCKD, but not explicitly stated). I believe that’s all for this short fic.

A/N: I am genuinely surprised that it took me this long to write and post a sex pollen fic, because it's absolutely one of my favourite tropes ever to read. WCKD is such a perfect backdrop for a sex pollen fic - shady unethical company that does weird science experiments - it's just too fitting. I have a few more sex pollen fics in my drafts that are yet to be finished, but I can definitely see myself writing a lot more of this trope because it was so much damn fun lmao. I will squeeze it into any fic universe that I possibly can. I love tropes that make things hornier than they should be - sex pollen, fuck or die, hate sex. All of it. Anyway - I hope you enjoy the fic, especially those of you who have been waiting for this fic in particular!!

...

Thomas was going insane. 

At least - that’s what it felt like. Sure, escaping The Maze had been a victory. Being rescued by the military and being taken to a (supposedly) safe place was, for all intents and purposes - a victory. 

But there was one detail that Thomas was hung up on that nobody else seemed to care about. While everybody else seemed content to go about their ‘new’ everyday lives - sleeping in the dorms, eating in the cafeteria, going through the barrage of medical tests without question - you were missing. And apparently, Thomas was the only one who seemed to care. 

Perhaps that was an exaggeration, seeing as the other boys from the Glade had known you longer, and they were likely worried about you silently because you were a dear friend to them. But it certainly felt like Thomas was the only one who was anxiously awaiting your return. 

When Thomas had come out of the Box, terrified, clueless, panicked - you had been the first person to be truly kind to him, rather than laughing at his blundering confusion. Every single time there had been an argument, you had stepped between him and Gally, making yourself known as a calm, motherly force that the other boys listened to - more out of habit than fear. 

You were a kind leader in the Glade that everyone respected, because you had earned their respect. Not because you bullied them into following you or even because you wielded some kind of natural seniority over them like Alby had. You were kind and sweet, and all the boys responded to that. 

Thomas had been surprised to learn that you had been one of the first people ever to come out of the Box. The second ever, according to Alby. You had such a strong, long-standing friendship with Alby, such a close bond with him. When Thomas saw the tears that streaked your face when you thought that Minho and Alby weren’t going to make it back before the doors closed was likely the number one thing that motivated Thomas to go dashing inside. He had wanted to rescue your closest friend for you. Some signal, some blaring siren inside him that screamed that he would do anything for you, that he needed to protect you. 

It was the same thing that caused him to hold you tight when you saw Alby slowly dying from the poison of the Griever’s sting, letting you cry on his shoulder. The same thing that drove him back into The Maze, looking for a way out. A deep longing to escape, to find a better home for you. 

And now, he was going more insane with each passing minute that you weren’t in front of his eyes. He was being driven out of his mind with each moment that your hand wasn’t grasped tightly within his own. Each moment that he couldn’t see you, feel you, hear your voice and know for certain that you were okay - it was slowly driving him mad. 

When the group had first arrived at this facility, this supposedly safe place - you had been ushered away from the rest of the group, viciously torn out of Thomas’s arms. His grasp on your hand the whole time had been bordering on melting his flesh into your own, and he was surprised when you had been the one to relax your hand out of that grip and give him that same soothing voice you did when he got into fights with Gally - telling him that it would be okay, that you would ‘catch up with them’ later. 

Thomas had wanted to kick and scream - he had wanted to yell, complain, protest about you being separated from everyone. He wanted to put up a fight about you being separated from him. But Minho clamped a hand on his shoulder and advised him to ‘shut the hell up’, clearly not wanting to upset the fragile peace they had established. Not wanting to disrupt the safety they had so freshly claimed. 

So Thomas kept his mouth shut - for now. It was for the greater good of the group. Everyone was bathed, clothed, fed, sleeping in warm beds. But he couldn’t help but to feel strange that he was the only one worried about you when they hadn’t seen you in days now. 

Minho simply assumed that girls weren’t allowed to co-mingle with guys in this new facility - and maybe he was right about that. But something about the whole thing just felt off to Thomas. It kept him on edge and kept him from sleeping more than an hour or so most nights while the other boys slumbered peacefully around him. 

On this particular day, Thomas was in the middle of picking at his meal, scoping out the area, theorizing if he could sneak past the guards somehow. If he could get past them, he could venture down any number of the hallways that they hadn’t been to before in order to look for you. He had all this romping through his mind at a break-rate pace when someone came up behind him - tapping on his shoulder and breaking him from these thoughts in a way that utterly startled him. 

Thomas whipped his head around to find one of those anonymous masked soldiers standing behind him. 

“Thomas?” 

He nodded in response.  

“Come with me.” 

Thomas wanted to question it, and when he looked back across the table, he saw Minho, Newt, and Fry looking at him with concern - but he gave them a gentle nod and rose from his seat to follow the man. Something in his gut told him that this might finally lead him to you - that his patience would finally pay off. And he wouldn’t risk that by throwing an emotional fit now. 

He followed the man through a door he had never been allowed to touch before, down a long hallway, through another set of doors, and down several more long hallways - Thomas memorized the twists and turns as he had done with The Maze. First left, then right, then another left. It felt like they had been walking for too long, and Thomas had to wonder just how large this building was. 

Just as Thomas was starting to feel truly on edge, the man came to a stop in front of a seemingly random door - one with a number on it. 708. He reached out, turned the handle, and opened the door. Then he nodded toward it. 

“In.” He said, giving Thomas a simple, brute instruction to get inside. 

Thomas was anxious and hesitant, but he pushed back those feelings - and he ended up being so glad that he did. 

When he stepped inside, he was overjoyed to see you. 

You were sitting on the edge of the bed (it was a room that, upon closer inspection was more like a one room prison cell - with a single bed, a single a toilet in the corner, and a small metal desk with a chair in the other corner) - you looked up when you saw movement in the doorway, having no clue what was coming next. 

Your entire face lit up with intense joy when you saw Thomas. 

“Thomas!” You cried out his name with intense relief, emotional tears quickly springing up in the corners of your eyes as you jumped off the bed and rushed to greet him.

“Y/N,” He breathed out your name like a prayer, his arms opening wide for you as they had been many times before. 

You were quick to fall into the hug, tightly wrapping your arms around his strong torso, not wanting to let him go anytime soon. You had just been escorted back from your daily shower and your fresh clothes were still clinging to you with wetness, but he definitely didn’t mind the feeling of your damp skin under his hands. He didn’t care if you were getting his clothes wet because it was you. 

It only truly hit you now how utterly terrifying the past few days had been. Going from your home in the Glade to such a strange new place, being ripped away from everything you had ever known. Alby’s death, Chuck’s death, Gally’s death - your friends dropping like flies. Being brought here and being ripped away from the safety of your friends, ripped away from the last people you knew and being completely isolated from them, not knowing when you would get to see them again. 

Thomas’s tight hold around you - the familiarity of his body surrounding you, making you feel safe, it was something that made you realize how truly alone and scared you had been over the past few days. It made you realize that you had been swallowing down all of your emotions in an effort to protect yourself. It made you realize how much you truly cherished his hugs. How much you truly cherished him. 

“I was so worried about you.” Thomas breathed out, clearly making a heaving effort not to cry himself. 

You let out a gentle sob into his chest and he rubbed your back, trying his best to comfort you. 

“It’s okay.” He assured you. “It’s okay - I’m here now. I’ve got you. I’m not gonna let you go ever again. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, Y/N - I swear.” 

Unconsciously, he was promising these things more to himself. He felt like a failure for letting you out of his sight in the first place. He had no clue what they had done to you that had made you so upset, and he cursed himself for not being with you in order to protect you from it. Even though he didn’t know what ‘it’ was, it was stupid for letting anything bad happen to you. 

If either of you had been paying more attention, less caught up in the heightened emotions of the reunion, then you would have noticed the door sealing shut behind Thomas. You would have noticed the heavy ‘click’ of the lock as both of you became trapped there. But you had each other back now, and you couldn’t exactly care where you were in those moments - as long as you were in each others’ arms. 

“What happened?” Thomas demanded sharply, pulling away from the hug slightly in order to put a hand on your chin, forcing your tear-streaked gaze toward his, hoping to get the truth out of you. “What did they do? What did they do to you?” 

His energy increased in franticness the longer he went without an answer, staring at the sadness in your eyes with a knot forming in his stomach. 

“Nothing.” You quickly replied, feeling as though this was the truth. 

They hadn’t done anything to you. At least not anything that was outwardly malicious. 

They had let you shower, given you fresh clothes, fed you three healthy meals a day. And other than the medical appointments that you didn’t fully understand the point of (some of which were slightly more invasive than you would have liked), none of it was dangerous or painful. You had simply been kept in this room the whole time. You had been scared from being under-informed and lonely from not being allowed to see your friends. 

But none of that seemed like a crime. Especially compared to the treacherous deadly Grievers in The Maze. 

“Please don’t lie to me.” Thomas said quietly, his throat choked off by the intensity of the emotions - the grief he felt for your sadness, the anger he was holding back toward whoever had hurt you. (And towards himself for not better protecting you.) 

“Look, it’s nothing.” 

You assured him, reaching up and grabbing his hand, soothingly petting your fingers over his knuckles in a gesture almost too affectionate for someone you called ‘friend’. 

“Just - I was lonely. And I was scared because they wouldn’t let me see you. I was probably stuck in here, feeling all the same things you felt-” 

Thomas cut off your words by pulling you back into another crushing hug, which you eagerly leaned into, cuddling your cheek into his chest, enjoying the warmth and the safety you felt from having his arms around you again. 

“Yeah.” He easily agreed to this sentiment. And then he wondered: “Where have you been the whole time?” 

“Just here.” You told him honestly. 

You didn’t feel the need to tell him about the doctor’s appointments - even the unpleasant ones. Especially because you assumed that he and the other boys had been through the same, likely with a different doctor. 

This caused another knot in Thomas’s gut. They had been keeping you in the same tiny room, not letting you see any other people? So - Minho’s theory about you being off in some other dorm making friends with a bunch of girls had been completely wrong. 

It wasn’t outright cruel, but it made alarms go off in Thomas’s head. It made his protective instincts toward you act up again. 

“I won’t let that happen to you again.” Thomas said firmly, trying his best to be assuring, even though he knew that he had no real authority over the decision. 

He cradled your head soothingly, petting a hand over your hair in a sweet, protective way. 

“Thomas-” 

You were about to remind him of the fact that he held no power over this when a very strange sound caused your voice to shrink back into your throat as you became distracted. 

You and Thomas both became drawn to the sound, both of your heads whipping up to look at it. Immediately, you saw that some of the tiles lining the ceiling had shrunk back, making way for small metal tubes that protruded out of the walls all around the room, creating a high-pitched hissing noise as they sprayed some kind of white mist into the air. This went on for about twenty seconds before it stopped, and then the tubes retracted back into the walls and the tiles slid back into their usual place. 

… 

“Chemical compound LI69 has been distributed.”

“How long until the subjects feel the effects?” 

“Effects will be immediate. Symptoms should be noticeable in ten to twenty minutes. Desired outcome will be inevitable within twenty four hours.” 

“Good. Keep bi-hourly notes. I want a full report.” 

… 

“What - what the hell was that?” Thomas wondered aloud, frantically looking around the room where the tubes had disappeared into the walls. 

“I don’t know.” You replied honestly. “I mean - that’s never happened before. It - it was probably a disinfectant or something,” You shrugged, trying to rationalize it, trying not to jump to the conclusion that it was something poisonous or harmful. 

Thomas let go of you and whipped around to the door - panic flooded him when he turned the handle and found it locked. 

“Hello?!” He screamed, banging on the door and fruitlessly jiggling the handle. “Hello?! Assholes! You can let us out now!” 

“Thomas,” You scolded him gently - his panic naturally unsettling to you. 

You wanted him to calm down - his nervous energy was making you nervous. And you had spent far too much time over the past few days cramped up inside of this room being nervous. You wanted to simply be able to enjoy the pleasant fact of his presence after missing him for what felt like decades of loneliness. But Thomas wasn’t going to lay down and make that easy on you. 

He rushed to the other end of the room, stepping up onto the desk chair and then the desk, peering into the vent as though he would be able to find a way out through there. 

“Thomas, please - just calm down. I’m sure it was nothing.” You continued, trying to get him to calm down. 

“Nothing?” He scoffed. “It’s never just ‘nothing’ with these people.” 

This was the last thing he said to you before his mind locked in on the task, and he focused on trying to find a way out of the small room. 

He spent a few minutes trying to loosen the bolts on the vent (which wouldn’t have been large enough for either of you to crawl out even if he did get the vent cover off). So all he did was make his fingers sore fighting against the welded metal. And then he moved on to brute force - he picked up the chair and tried to simply beat the doorknob clean off. 

But again, it was something that was very well made, seemingly bulletproof. And by the time he had taken a few good swings, he was heaving with sweat, breathless, and he found it to be way too hot in the small space. 

Surely his body was boiling over from the efforts of swinging the chair around in such a small, closed space. So he placed it down and moved to take off his shirt, surprised by just how damp the fabric was, seeped with sweat already in such a short time. He balled up the fabric and began patting himself down with it, trying to get some relief on his overly heated skin. 

And then, his entire system became utterly distracted by a single, tiny sound. 

A whimper. 

He whipped his head around at lightning speed, realizing that it had been you who had made that sound - it had been your whimper. And suddenly, everything in Thomas’s body, every single one of his senses became utterly overwhelmed by you. 

The sight of you on the bed, sitting patiently, waiting for him to fetter away at whatever plan he came up with next - you looked so stunning, so breath-taking. You were covered in a sheen of sweat, obviously warmer than before - so it wasn’t just Thomas. It wasn’t just because of his exertion in trying to break out of here. 

Were they turning up the temperature in the room? Were they planning to cook the two of you as some kind of punishment? 

Yet - that thought quickly dissolved off into Thomas’s mind as a distant worry the more he looked at you; the more he drank in your slightly parted, bitten lips - so pretty, so kissable. The more he looked at the way stray hairs stuck to your flushed, sticky skin, wanting to gently wipe them out of the way. The more he admired your breasts gently heaving with each breath, your nipples sticking off through your shirt and thin bra. 

He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed it before, but he could even smell you in the air. 

Your natural smell was something so prominent in the air, something so perfect he could suffocate in tight in the small space. Shamefully, that scent was something he knew so damn well, something he had memorized and treasured close when his memories of life had still been so few and his head had still been so empty. 

Hugging you those first few times, he had tucked his nose into your hair and greedily whiffed deep breaths of your scent, absolutely loving how you were sweet, soapy. Even if you were slightly sweaty from a long day of work, your natural scent was so damn perfect to him. 

It was a smell that he loved so dearly - on top of everything else that he loved about you. 

This time that wonderful scent that he knew as yours had something else underlying with it - something needy and pungent that he wouldn’t quite know yet was arousal. Your arousal. But it was bringing back that feeling of anxious insanity that he had been boiling with earlier that day. The feeling that made him practically crawl out of his own skin, feeling like he needed to get to you. Feeling like he needed to save you from some big, unseen danger. 

Here, now, being in this room with you - he still didn’t feel close enough. He wasn’t close enough to you. He still didn’t feel as though that anxious thing inside of him, calling out for you had been answered. Not yet. 

Thomas had the urge to reach out and pull you close, hold you in his arms again, but he had a feeling that he would squeeze you tight and not want to let go - and then he would lose focus on getting you out of this room and to a safe place. And that just wouldn’t do. 

“Thomas - you-your shirt…” You whispered the words on the edge of your breath, as though you were breaking some terrible secret by speaking it aloud. 

He had almost forgotten that he had stripped off his shirt in such a haste. The fabric was now clutched tightly in his shaking fist. Unconsciously, he was directing all of his energy to that point, furiously focusing on his grip to help himself resist the urge to reach out and grab you. 

He hadn’t yet noticed the way you were looking at him. 

Your eyes hungrily raking over his bare torso, scanning over every inch of him. From the muscles that bulged in his biceps while he moved, to the veins protruding in his forearms, to the trail of delicious dark hair down from his belly button that disappeared into his pants. It was a way you had never looked at him before. You had never truly noticed how Thomas - your strong, comforting Thomas - was so utterly, carnally sexy. 

He thought nothing of taking off his shirt in front of you, because it was something he had done plenty of times before. He had done it while working in the gardens with you (as a leader in the Glade, you had rotated jobs a lot, going wherever a spare hand was needed). And you certainly hadn’t looked at him with anything resembling hunger in your eyes back then. 

At least, he thought you hadn’t. 

“Sorry.” He mumbled out, worried that he had made you uncomfortable by stripping so casually in front of you. “I just find it really warm in here, too warm, it’s hot - do you find it hot?” 

He had to ask, hating that nagging heat, almost as if it was crawling under his skin - something so much different from the pleasantly warm sun of the Glade. This was a heat bubbling up from his very core, pin-pricking all over his skin from the inside out. He wondered if this was what a fever felt like. 

Was he getting sick? Was he going to get you sick?

He felt another thick bead of sweat roll down his face and he used his balled up shirt to wipe it off. 

“I guess?” You huffed out, seeming irritated. “Maybe.” 

You squirmed on the spot and let out a pained sound, something that had Thomas on high alert once again. 

“What’s wrong?” Thomas asked, purposefully locking his knees to keep himself from jumping toward you. 

If he was getting sick, then invading your personal space wouldn’t be a good idea. In fact - he made it a point to take a step back, putting distance between himself and you. But he kept his eyes locked on you, keeping a protective watch over you while his back became flush with the metal of the door. It was a pleasantly cooling sensation for a moment before the fever inside of him overpowered it - reminding him just how boiling hot he was. 

“It hurts.” You told him, your voice dissolving into a shaky, pained whine. 

Shamefully, the sound rocked Thomas, and flooded him with something that could have only been described as arousal. 

Fuck. 

The way you looked up at him with glassy-eyes, tears barely edging your waterline, clearly hot and overwhelmed yourself, squirming against the bed - trying to get some friction against your… oh. Oh wow. That realization rocked him like a ton of bricks to the head, and even more heat swelled up inside of his gut. 

You must have been feeling all the same things that he was. 

Dizzy, hot, overwhelmed - having an intense need to hold you and to be held. Brain thumping with nothing but thoughts of you, mind littered with nothing but your smell, nothing but thoughts of your skin. Willing to do anything for you at a moment’s notice. 

Thomas finally let himself flex to those needs, and raced across the room toward you - literally falling on his knees in front of you. 

If you had pain, he would fix it. He would do anything for you. 

“What hurts?” He asked, realizing that the desperation throttling his throat made it sound more like he was begging. But he was too far gone to care. “What hurts? What’s wrong? Come on, tell me. Please.” 

You were almost too incoherent to put the feeling into words so quickly, as quickly as he needed you too. You were too distracted by the sight of his big soft brown eyes staring up at you with utter worship in them - along with his pink cheeks and bits of his dark hair stuck to his face with sweat, that softness contrasted by the broad hardness of his shoulders spread across your lap. 

“Thomas-” You gasped out, cut off by his next action. 

“Y/N, please.” 

He grabbed up both of your hands, clutching them tightly in his own - and that, the first skin-to-skin contact you had felt since becoming this overwhelmed with the heat and the need - it set something off inside of you. It sent sharp shocks up your spine and made your pussy clench around nothing, sending a flood of wetness soaking into your underwear. And it made you feel too weak for your own good in that moment. 

If you lingered there for too long, you would tumble into the abyss. You would simply give into every instinct screaming inside of your body and beg for him to fuck you until you didn’t know your own name. 

And even though that was everything you had ever wanted, all you could remember wanting right then and there, especially from Thomas, the small remaining sense in your brain said that it was a bad idea. 

You let out a sharp gasp, and raced to escape the touch - you knocked your hands out of his and squirmed away from him, jumping up off the bed. Thomas let out a whine of disappointment and crumbled tighter onto his knees, wondering what he could have done to disappoint you. Knowing that he needed to do anything he could to make up for disappointing you. 

But something inside of his skull was chanting: 

She’s in pain. Make it stop. Make her pain go away. 

You know the answer. 

And while you panicked, hoping to fight against what your body wanted, hoping to delay the inevitable, the thing that Thomas already knew he wanted, Thomas picked himself up off the floor. 

All too soon, he crowded into your personal space from behind. You let out another shocked gasp as he pressed his body into yours from behind, the firm, intensely heated muscle like wall of lava engulfing you. 

This time, not letting you get away, he secured you there with a hand around your chest that was oddly comforting, making sure to pull you close and keep you close. He forced you to feel every single inch of his boiling hot body pressed right up against yours. Sweat gently sticking against you through your clothes, his hot breath huffing against your neck, and what must have been the hard bulge of his cock pressing against the roundness of your ass. 

It was all too perfect. And still, something nagged in the back of your mind that you couldn’t have that perfection all to yourself. Something must have been wrong in order for this to be happening to you. 

“Thomas,” You whined out - unsure if you wanted to tell him to get off or wanted to beg him for more. 

Instinctively, you reached up and gripped at his forearm, sinking into the security of his touch. It was soothing, in a sense, and at the same time - it drove your body mad and made the pain in your cunt so much worse. 

Any mental clarity you previously had was quickly fading. 

So much so that neither of you had the mind to piece together that this was happening to you because of the chemicals that had been sprayed into the room earlier. Not that you could do much about it now. 

Thomas leaned over your shoulder, stuffing his nose into your neck, taking in a purposeful, thick whiff of your scent. He drank you in so shamelessly now, so happy to have you in his arms, right where he wanted you - right where he needed you. He held your body so tight to his, almost crushing you in his grip in the most perfect way - as if worried you might escape if he let you move even an inch. 

Between desperate pants, he laid slick, open-mouthed kisses along your forehead, down the side of your face - lavishing you with affection, grateful and greedy now that he had you in his arms, now that he had caught you. Grateful that he had taken you from those bastards who had stolen you from him. Grateful that he had won. 

His actions left you panting wildly into the air as the heat surged within your body - this attention on your skin not being enough, but yet, your mind was too muddled with the overwhelming heat to ask for more. 

He continued kissing your skin, even nosing along your cheek before he finally gathered enough of his mind to speak. 

“I’ll help. I’ll help you, Y/N.” 

He huffed out, heaving more of his dense beautiful breath across your skin, making you whine again in return. 

“I’ll fix it. Just tell me. Just tell me what hurts. Please, tell me. I promise I’ll fix it. I can fix it.” 

His utter dedication to you was sewn into every word, clutching you tighter across the chest in a way that almost crushed your windpipe - something that made you gasp for air and nearly thank him for it, wanting to dissolve back into his hot muscles and live there, somehow still not close enough. 

“I’ll do anything for you, Y/N, I will. I’ll help you. Just tell me, please.” 

You found the fire of that dedication more enlightening than the one slowly boiling you to death from inside, and it was that - that sacred promise that had you finally giving in. It was Thomas’s sacred affection for you that finally made you feel safe to give into your body’s needs. 

You reached out and grabbed Thomas’s hand - the one hovering by his side that wasn’t keeping you trapped tightly against his chest. His fingers locked tightly in a fist without the fabric of his shirt to keep his knuckles from popping under the fury of his own grip this time. You rubbed soothingly on the back of his palm, loosening the muscles there before you guided that hand between your thighs, guiding him to touch you on your still clothed pussy, through your pants. 

“Here, Tommy.” You breathed out, your tongue feeling so fat and useless in your mouth. “It hurts here. Need your help. Need you.” 

Without a moment of hesitation, instantly understanding what you needed, sparked with even more desperation by the nickname on your lips, Thomas sprung into action. 

He began frantically rubbing your pussy through your pants - inadvertently pushing the zipper at the front of your trousers right up against your clit with the heavy weight of his palm. A sensation that made you keen out and arch back into him as though you had been possessed, harsh, amazing tingles zapping through your body from that tiny point. You threw your head back against his shoulder and relied even more on the strength of his body and the will of his grip across your shoulders not to fall down as ravenous pleasure overtook you. 

“I’ll fix it.” He huffed into your ear. 

His voice barely registered to you past the shocking beautiful pleasure he was causing between your thighs as he continued to rub your clothed clit. 

“I’ll make it better. I’ll make it all better.” 

He laid more hot, sloppy kisses against your neck and your cheek, and you could do little more than moan out loudly and squirm against him, becoming utterly lost in the sensations. You accidentally humped your ass against his cock in a way that made him growl and rub your clit even harder, even faster. It made you absolutely alight with pleasure, filling all of your senses with nothing but him. Nothing but the feeling of his strong arm working between your thighs, nothing but the scent of his sweat in the air, nothing but his quiet growls against your ear. 

“Oh, Tommy!” You moaned out. “I’m gonna-” 

Before you knew it, your body had been overtaken by the intense wave of an orgasm, something that had you crying out loudly and shaking in his arms, your body beautifully dizzy in seconds. You reached out to grip his forearm, leaving claw marks in his skin while you let out a stream of incoherent sounds as the sensations rocked you. 

“Hey, shh. I got you. I got you,” He was nothing but a sweet assurance in your ear - his dick still throbbing and utterly needy in his pants, but forgotten in favor of pleasing you. For now. 

After a few moments, he lifted his hand from between your thighs, causing a sharp whine of disappointment from you. He used this touch to force your jaw toward him, twisting your neck awkwardly to meet him in a kiss over your shoulder. It caused an ache in your neck, but you delighted in the feeling of his lips desperately clinging to your own, the chance to steal his breath.

You had thought about kissing Thomas many times before - but you had never imagined that it would be like this. 

When it was over, there was one thing that both of you knew for certain: you both needed more.

“Please, Tommy.” You breathed against his mouth as you pulled away from the kiss. “I need more. Please.” 

Every single instinct inside of him screamed to follow this order - that this was the divine answer to his existence. This was everything his life had been leading up to from the moment he had seen your sweet face after he had been pulled out of that fucking Box. 

“I got you.” He assured you. 

He then guided you back to the bed and - very hesitantly - separated his grip from you in order to make sure that you could comfortably lay down on your back. Within seconds, he was on you again, absorbing your mouth into a hot, desperate kiss while he laid flush on top of you. 

You couldn’t help but to moan into that kiss, fisting your hands into his hair, holding him tightly to you as though he was your only source of oxygen - welcoming it when his tongue forced its way into your mouth. You sucked on it and moaned around him, becoming dizzier with the heat. 

When you felt his hard cock against your thigh, feeling him jutting his hips forward to try and find some relief against you - it caused a deeper pain in your pussy, a distinct feeling of emptiness and you knew that you needed more. You knew exactly what you needed - what that ‘more’ was. 

You pulled back from the kiss to whimper against his lips. 

“More.” You pleaded gently. “Please, Tommy.” 

“Yes.” He huffed back in return. “Anything - anything for you.” 

Naturally, his hands went back between your legs, and you guided him up to the button of your pants, both of you working frantically in tandem to get your pants off this time. That nagging heat only building inside of you, something telling you that you would go insane if you didn’t get your clothes off soon. While Thomas ripped your pants down over your thighs, pulling your underwear with them, you sat up slightly and ditched your shirt, leaving you wearing only the thin cotton bra that had come with this set of new clothes. 

Thomas let out a growl when more of your delicious scent hit him. With your pants around your ankles, it was more pungent now, ripe in the air, smacking him in the face in the most perfect way. And he felt another wave of crippling heat punch him in the gut as it fogged his brain over. It was so pungent that it was ripe on his tongue and he needed more. Something in his brain was chanting at him that he needed to taste it - he needed to devour that delicious scent, the essence of you, right from the fucking source. 

With his tongue lapping at the air like a fucking dog, Thomas let out more thick, heavy breaths while he desperately tried to untangle the fabric from your ankles, trying to free you so that he could have better access to you. After a moment too long of struggle for both of your liking, he was finally able to toss it all carelessly behind him, leaving you almost naked beneath him. 

But he didn’t have a moment to marvel at the beauty of your bare body. A sight that he had imagined so many times before in his mind’s eye, snuck away into the privacy of the woods with a hand tight around his cock thinking about this exact sight - no, he couldn’t sit back and simply drink it in. 

He was a man on a mission - a man living through a years long drought and finally met with the glorious fountain that would eternally quench his thirst. 

He didn’t even question the need to put his mouth on your pussy, didn’t wonder why the thought was so prominently at the forefront of his mind. Instead, he simply pinned your legs open against the bed with his palms flat on your inner thighs and did it, chased the urge that rang through his mind so damn clearly. 

“Oh, Thomas!” 

In seconds, it was the most divine thing he had ever experienced. 

With you moaning above his head, gasping out his name, with your taste so pungent on his tongue, with your heat beating under his mouth - it was too fucking perfect to let go of. 

Thomas moaned into your pussy, pure fuzzy pleasure melting his brain between his ears, making it impossible for him to think of anything but you. His mind filled with nothing but feed me, feed me, keep me alive, you are my life. 

The thick taste of your wetness on his tongue was all he needed, all he needed to live from now on, nothing more. He could feel you squirming and fighting against him; he could feel your thighs jolting and jumping under his hands as your nerves were overstimulated. He could feel your hips bucking up into his face, smearing more of that perfect wetness across his chin and cheeks, smothering him in it - perfect, how perfect. 

He could feel the sting of you tugging on his hair but it only added to the perfect sensation of dumb dizziness that pumped through him, that made him so fucking ravenous for you. It only made him moan into your cunt louder and shove his tongue into you deeper, looking for more. 

“Oh, ugh! Tommy! Tommy!” 

You felt like you were burning alive. 

His tongue against you was horrible and perfect - doing nothing to relieve the ache deep inside of you, one that demanded to be filled. 

His tongue lapping at you so hungrily only added more terrible, sweltering heat, causing more shocks of pleasure stinging up your body with each deep pass of his tongue that he swept over you, trying to devour you whole. 

The more he moaned against you, the more he vibrated your already sore clit, making you cry out, the more he caused your body to be consumed by that deep, uncomfortable he. The more he made it near impossible for you to breathe past the moans fighting out of your lungs. 

You desperately tugged on his hair, but only got his attention when you finally fought hard enough to get words out. 

“Tommy, please!” You begged, tears spilling out of your eyes now. “Please, stop! It hurts!” 

Those words - those painful words shocked Thomas back to reality. 

Had he been selfish, drinking from your essence to satisfy his thirst without considering your own? 

He pulled back from your pussy with a wet smack that made you whimper, taking his hands off your thighs, finally freeing your legs from the tight, stretched out position. Somehow, he looked even better staring you down with those needy, wide eyes while his face was covered in your juices. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I-” 

“Please, just - I need you.” You choked out in reply, reaching a shaking hand toward his pants. “I need you inside me, Tommy. I need you to fix it.” 

“Yes, yes, yes.” Thomas replied, chanting to you as though answering a prayer in a place of worship, fully prepared to worship you as the goddess you were to him. “Yes, I’ll fix it.” 

He rushed to get his pants and underwear off with just as much frantic struggle, and soon he was naked on top of you. Meanwhile, you ripped off the stupid bra in order to feel the satisfying press of his bare skin on yours, something impossibly boiling hot. A feeling that had you moaning into his shoulder while you hooked your leg around his hip, urgent to get closer to him. 

Without a second of hesitation, Thomas sunk his cock inside of you. 

His cock was a searing hot rod pressing into your well-slicked entrance, making both of you white-out with the feeling for a few moments while the need and satisfaction rattled through your insides. It was what you had both been waiting for, desperately needing from the moment that mystery chemical had hit your systems. And now that you had it - Thomas’s cock deep inside of you, the perfect satisfaction of being joined, being as close as possible, your body sang with perfect relief. 

But there was still that nagging for something more. 

Neither of you would be satisfied - it wouldn’t fully be out of your systems until you both came from this. 

It was that nagging that had him gripping onto your hips, holding you still so that he could begin hammering into you, desperate to answer that nagging in the back of his skull: fuck her, take her, fill her up - she’s yours. She is yours. 

It was a feeling so utterly perfect that you instantly relaxed against him - all of your muscles melting into the feeling of his cock fucking into you so rapidly, filling you up so well. You gripped tightly at his back, determined to hold him close, just as he had done to you before. You needed to keep him absolutely close, so tight to your body while his cock filled you up so perfectly. 

“Tommy, please. Oh, oh, Tommy!” You moaned into his neck, your pussy fluttering around him as his hips stuttered. 

Overwhelmed and dizzy with the heat, from the tips of his ears to the space where his cock sunk deep into your warm pussy, drowning in wetness, he could only focus on one thing. One single mission rattling between his ears. 

Fill her up. Make her yours. 

“Gonna fill you up.” He growled back, not even entirely realizing that he was speaking these words aloud - a sacred promise to him now, the only driving force of his entire life, the thing that his entire existence hinged on. “Gonna make you so full of me. So perfect, so full of me.” 

Getting lost in your warm pussy, filling you up, making your pain go away, worshiping you. He wasn’t going to lose you again, he was going to keep you safe. He was going to keep you in his arms forever, was going to keep you safe, wrapped around his cock - forever. He fucked his hips forward harder, making a loud, wet smack continually resonate throughout the room as he tried his hardest to deliver on these promises. 

“Gonna make you mine,” He growled, his voice reaching a deep tone that you had only ever heard when he had argued with Gally - ticked off, full of rage. “Gonna keep you safe. Forever.” 

But somehow - this was different. It was a rage that was twinged with passion. 

With love. 

It was a sound that made all the hair on your body stand on end, forced a sharp gasp from your lips as it utterly rocked your body. 

You dug your nails into his back, possessively gripping the flesh, holding him tightly, trying to keep him close. Forcing him to keep his promises. 

“Yours.” You echoed back, your voice half-breath, half pure need. 

“You are mine.” He groaned in return. “Mine, mine, mine, mine-” 

He chanted this as a mantra, fucking into you harder with each utterance of the sacred word before he cut himself off with a harsh gasp, his hips stilling suddenly. 

And then - perfection. 

He pressed into you as deeply as possible, filling you up with perfect warmth, delivering on his promise. Your gut curled with a nearly painful orgasm in response, causing you to bite down tightly on the flesh of his shoulder as you moaned wildly against him. Tears leaked from your eyes as you were nearly blinded with euphoria. 

“Mine.” Thomas hummed again, almost quietly to himself, leaving a small peak on the side of your neck to compliment his point. 

Once again, just as he had done when he first entered the room, he cradled your head so softly, petting your hair soothingly. It was a deep contrast to the near rabid man who had been fucking you only a minute ago. And he gently humped his hips against you, something unconscious telling him to make sure that he fucked his cum deeper into you - nice and deep. 

The two of you stayed tangled like this, instinctively not wanting to pull away from each other, an intense need to stay locked so close. Needing to be close to the person you needed most. In an effort not to crush you with his body weight, Thomas rolled onto his side, with you still holding him tightly, with your leg still hooked over his hip, with his softening cock slightly falling out of your now messy cunt - much to the disappointment of both of you. 

(Thomas surprised himself when he shoved his hips forward, trying to get closer, trying to get back inside of you.) 

But you both felt much more at ease now. And tangled together like that, with your arms wrapped around each other, with Thomas gently kissing over your forehead and your shoulders - you both dozed off into a gentle sleep. 

… 

Thomas woke up cold and alone. 

He dressed frantically, and surprisingly, he found the door unlocked. 

He had too many questions, and had one singular mission on his mind: 

Find you, and kill anybody who had laid their hands on you without his permission.

...

A/N: Please keep in mind, this is a oneshot, and there will not be a continuation or a 'Part 2'. If you liked this fic, please consider showing me that by reblogging or commenting, but if you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written instead of asking for more. If you want to see more fics from this fandom, I will be posting more in the future, and if you want to see more things that I have already posted, I have over one million words worth of work between my AO3 (linked in my pinned post) and my Masterlist for you to enjoy. Happy reading, and I hope you have a great day!!

[peoniesnro]

In Another Universe

#14. The Beginning of the END

Synopsis – When you are just another iteration of Park Jimin’s girlfriend in a different universe.

Park Jimin × Reader

Genre – parallel universe / kind of fantasy/ strangers to ??/ SMUT/ maybe romance/ angst/ fluff /Infidelity

Warnings- Language/ Angst / INFIDELITY /SMUT- Making out/ Oral (F. and M. recieving) (Rough and soft)/ Dirty Talk/ Grinding/ Sex against a window/ Jealousy Fucks/ Mastrubating (F.)/ Rough sex / Unporected sex/ Pussy slpas/ Cumming inside/ Impregnation Kink!!!!!/ Safe words/ Edging/ Multiple orgasms (F.)/Overstimulation/ Spit play/ Jimin is jealous af/ Jimin is rough

Word count- 23K (I'm sorry. So so so sorry)

a/n- Some anonnie asked me how many more chapters there on the series and unfortunately I lost the ask. So, anon if you're seeing this, it's probably 20 plus the epilogue. We are slowly nearing the end now. I'm sad... (Anyway... like always thank you for reading babies, luv u ❤️)

Taglist?

Chapter Index

Previous - Next

You walk through the busy sidewalk in silence. Your arm is hooked with Key’s. She’s been rambling about something that doesn’t quite reach your ears. You’re not paying attention to whatever she’s saying at all. Instead, your mind is racing with your latest discovery. It’s absurd how long it took you to realize something that has been happening for so long. It doesn’t make it less scary, however. 

It’s scary. Falling for Park Jimin. Scary as hell. For so many reasons. He’s in a relationship. He’s from a different world. You’ve not meant to be together at all. And above everything, he probably doesn’t like you at all.

And your greed, little thing, is about to consume you whole!

Yes, that’s exactly what’s about to happen now. You’ve been too greedy for something you couldn’t have and now you’re stuck in this no win situation. What are you ever going to do? A frustrated groan strangles in your throat. You need someone’s advice on this. Someone who isn’t Jungkook. Because Jungkook has been giving you the cold shoulder ever since the day at the restaurant. Since the moment you returned to the kitchen after talking with Jimin. You don’t know what’s wrong but it just adds more and more frustration to your stressed out mind. 

It’s been more than a week since your talk with Jimin. He has promised you that he’ll explain everything to you. Yet until this very moment, he hasn’t brought up the topic at all. Frustrating. You’re getting mad at him.  Not that you met him, true. It’s just text messages. Nothing crazy. Just mundane things. Asking about how each other’s days went or just gentle reminders to drink water. Yet he hasn’t asked to meet you or anything.

You feel neglected. Feel as if he has given you a fake promise. As if he has tricked you into something while bribing you with candy. It certainly feels like he’s avoiding talking about it on purpose. Then there is the fact that you like him. You no longer can deny it. And it hurts even more to think Jimin might not hold on to his promises. See, everything frustrates you. Hurts you. To add in to everything, there’s a teeny tiny part of you that is mad at him because he hasn’t made any efforts to at least meet you. Not just to hear his explanation. But to see him. Just see him. You miss him. 

Now since you don’t work at RUN, you don’t get to see him every other day. Another reason to be frustrated. Then there’s Jimin. Just going on with his life. Considering how desperately he seeked an opportunity to talk with you, this clearly looks odd to you. That leaves you with one conclusion. He’s purposefully avoiding you just to avoid the talk. Despite his words he doesn’t wish to actually tell you the truth. Right? That has to be it. Or you think so. Maybe that’s not the case at all. Maybe he’s just busy. 

You feel an overwhelming urge to pull from your hair. This is why you need someone else’s opinion. It would have been so nice if you could have talked about this with Jungkook. Someone who knows everything about you, inside out. Unfortunately, he’s going through PMS. He’s not available. And the only other option is your best friend. But she doesn’t know everything about you. Doesn’t know about your bitchy side to be specific. Maybe it’s time you should tell her. She’d call you out. Yell at you. Maybe even hit you. Yet in the end, she’s just like Jungkook. Will never leave your side. And in the end, you can have that advice you seek. 

You eye your best friend nervously. Without you realizing she has stopped rumbling. Her eyes are fixed ahead. Looks like she’s lost in her own thoughts as well. 

Should you tell her?

Wouldn’t you be able to solve everything on your own? But then, you know that this problem isn’t going to solve that easily. Sooner or later you would want her help yet again. And when that moment comes, she’d be more furious to know that you’d hidden something from her. 

You should tell her.

You stop abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk. Pulling Key into a stop with you. She frowns at you for a minute before her expression turns into something unreadable. If you didn’t know better, you’d say she looks almost nervous. She doesn’t have a reason to be nervous. You’re the one who’s nervous here. You drag in a deep breath to build the courage you need for this. 

“I have to tell you something.” You both blurt out at the same time. 

Oh.

You shut your mouth. It takes you a split second to register that she needs to tell you something as well. “You go ahead first.” You gesture at her, feeling a bit relieved that you can bide your time for a bit. Key shakes her head, however. “No,no, it’s fine, you can go ahead first.” She chuckles nervously. You give her a look. What is this? Why are you two acting like these polite strangers? It makes you feel weird. It seems like Key thinks so too. She heaves a heavy sigh. 

“Okay, fuck.” Mumbles. Looks briefly at you before averting her eyes to the road. Now it’s your time to frown. Why’s she so nervous?

“What is it?” You ask hesitantly. Another sigh from Key. A chuckle and you’re getting antsy. 

“It’s nothing really…uh.. I don’t know how to tell you this but-”

“Oh my god, what the fuck Key? What is it?” You almost yell. A passerby throws you an odd look. You bow to him slightly in apology. 

“Okay, okay, no need to fucking yell,” Key pouts. You wait patiently till she continues. “It’s about Chan actually, he uh.. He- the other day, actually he-” You narrow your eyes as Key starts to stutter horribly. You think you’re getting a hunch as to where this is going. Of course, you know. Corners of your mouth start to twitch, struggling to perform a smile. You find Key to be adorable right now. 

“He asked you out, didn't he?” You save her from the trouble. She immediately closes her mouth. Eyes wide and gaping at you like you’ve told the most unbelievable shit in the world. A throaty laugh escapes you. “What?” You question while raising one of your eyebrows. 

“H-how do you kn-know that?” She whispers. And your smile drops. Replace with guilt. You knew all along but you never told her because you were selfish. You nibble on your bottom lip for a minute before finding your words.  

“He told me.” You admit. Feeling bitter. Key gasps.

“When?” Her eyes widened even more. You shrug, trying to act as if this is nothing. “Eh…. the day I confessed- I mean the day I tried to do soー” Your sentence got interrupted when Key suddenly stepped forward. Grabs your shoulders.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” You watch as something akin to guilt slash across her wide eyes. “I’m so sorry.” She shakes her head. Oh, you hate this. Key doesn’t have to feel guilty. She has done nothing wrong. You shrug her hands off you.

“It’s nothing Key. I mean I was hurt back then but I’m fine now. I’m way over it.” You wave a dismissive hand in front of your face. Change the topic as you opt into an excited mood. “So, tell me? What did you tell him?” You smile giddily. Key, however, doesn’t share your enthusiasm. She gasps again. Scandalous. Now looks at you like you’ve grown two heads.

“Of course, I said no woman. I won’t do that to you.” She scoffs in disbelief. “How could I? I mean why would you ever think that I would do something like that to you.” Key appears as if you’ve betrayed her. You sigh exasperatedly. 

“Yah!!” Give her a serious look. “I’m seriously over it dude, I’m telling you. Trust me I don’t have an ounce of feelings toward him now.” And you’re telling the truth. A you from a few months ago would have bleed right at the spot to hear what Key just told you. But now, you don’t feel anything except the giddy feeling of knowing the dirty deets of your best friend's life. It has a lot to do with your new life. You’re no longer pinning over your boss. No. Instead now you’re pinning over a rich CEO, who has a far better girlfriend than you. If Chan’s situation hurts you, this is about to kill you. But besides Jimin, you think you’ve developed a teeny bit. You can understand that Chan doesn’t like you. And that did hurt but now you’re fine. 

“How come?” Key scowls deeply. “Your feelings just evaporated. Just like that?” Throws a skeptical glance at you. Maybe this is your time to tell her your secret. But something she said suddenly piques your interest.

“Yes it did, but wait-” You tilt your head to the sight. Feel amused. “Did you say that, you said no to him because of me? Not because you don’t like him?” You’re not asking out of spite. Just genuinely curious. And the prospect she actually likes Chan makes you happy. Not bitter. Key pales. 

“I mean yeah, that also. I don’-”

“Key.”

“Yes.”

“Hey,” It’s your time to grab her shoulders. She avoids your eyes as she turns her head down. “Do you like him?” You ask softly. No answer. “Listen, I know he really likes you. And if you really like him-” You tilt your head to look at her eyes. Fail. “if you really like him-” So, you continue. “You should give it a chance.” You finish when she finally looks at you. Already shaking her head. 

“No. Fuck no. I will never ever do that to you. What kind of friend-”

“I like someone else.” You blurt out. Interrupting her ramble. It works. Key shuts her mouth as if you’ve just slapped her. 

“Huh?”

“I like someone else, Key. I don’t like Chan anymore.” Just like that the entire conversation takes a 180- degree. You’re not the one who’s asking questions anymore. You’re being interrogated in the middle of a sidewalk. Key bombards you with so many questions at once that you barely catch a single one of them. She starts from ‘who’ and ends with cursing you for not letting her know earlier. You on the other hand don’t answer any of her questions. She doesn’t let you. “Will you calm down?” You mutter lastly. Key hisses at you.

“No.. I will not calm down. Not until you tell me who this mystery man is.”

“Well, that's what I'm trying to do but you’re not letting me.” You complain. 

“Okay, so, tell me who he is? Do I know him? Is he from the communication class? Is he from our college or did you meet him online?” Key looks genuinely excited. Just like how you looked a minute ago. You feel a pang in your chest. She’s not going to like what you’re about to tell her. You shake your head. “No?” She asks. Takes a minute. Her face falls as you watch the realization hit her. “He’s not from here.” It sounds like a statement not a question. Yet you nod anyway. Key curses aloud. “Dude. Fucking hell! That’s not good.” States the obvious. “You only have a year, man. How are you… oh, god- who is he? Jungkook? It makes sense that you’d fall for him. You live together. To be honest I was afraid of something like this ha-”

“It’s not Jungkook.” You interrupt her yet again. A silence falls between you two. Key doesn’t ask you who he is again. But you just casually reach for your bag. Fumble inside for a second before finding what you want. Your fingers tightly wrap around the picture as you hold it for Key. The polaroid you manage to get from Jimin the day of your little- not a date. It took you great effort. Lots of convincing. But you won in the end. That’s how you now hold the one where you’re frowning at Jimin when he’s just looking at you. Not just looking at you. No. You chose the specific photo just because of the way he’s looking at you. He looks at you like you’re his entire world. Like you’re his entire universe. Like he hasn’t seen something more beautiful before. Like he’s so whipped for you. Trapped with you and he doesn’t want to be freed. 

Of course, that can’t be the truth now. It’s just your stupid heart making things up. 

Key takes the polaroid from you. Slowly. Scans her eyes over the image. A beat passes. 

“Holy fuck! This is fucking worse.” Mumbles ever so slowly.

…………………………

Key wasn't helpful in giving you advice. Like you wanted her to be. Or maybe she was but simply didn’t say what you wanted to hear. What you wanted to hear was that you need to wait until Jimin reaches you. You wanted to hear that Jimin is just busy and not purposely avoiding you or anything. But what you heard was the complete opposite. She said that Jimin is an asshole, which is nothing new. And how you have to immediately get rid of your feelings. No matter what. Your attempt at reasoning with her didn’t work at all. That’s how you find yourself in the same situation the next day. Sitting at Jungkook’s couch. He’s getting ready to leave for classes. Is giving you the same silent treatment like always. It’s raining heavily outside but the gloom inside his apartment has nothing to do with that. 

You’ve tried several times to ask Jungkook what’s wrong but he’s been avoiding that successfully. He would just click his tongue. Would walk away. Would shrug or say simply ‘nothing’. Now, it’s getting unbearable. You feel suffocated. And you miss your Jungkook. The one who’s always positive. Joke around. Being clingy and annoying to you. You sigh desperately when he walks past you for the tenth time without even sparing you a second glance. He’s being stupid, really. It’s not like you’ve done anything to upset him. He needs to grow up and learn how to talk. If he’s not going to do that on his own, then you should.

“Kook.” You call him out just as he’s about to enter his room. He halts. Doesn’t turn around, however. You get to your feet. Take a couple steps forward. Wait for a second to see if he’d turn around. He still doesn’t. So, you decide to ask what you wanted to ask. “Okay, what’s happening? Why the hell are you ignoring me? What the fuck did I do?” You blurt out all the questions you wanted to ask from him. This time he just turns partially to look at you. You wait with a bated breath until he answers when he just shakes his head. Disappointment washes over you. 

“It’s nothing.” Jungkook mutters. Almost disappears inside his room when you shout at him. 

“It’s clearly not nothing!” You take another step. Jungkook stops again. 

“I told you it’s nothing. Really.” He says again. This time with a stern edge in his voice. As if he’s warning you to let it go. Well, the hell you would do that. This pisses you off. 

“Something’s been up with you for weeks Kook. Are you gonna keep that up? If you have a problem with me, you need to let me know.” You feel your frustration slowly turn into anger. You’ve been on the edge already. “C’mon, Jungkook, don’t fucking act like a stubborn mule and talk to me for fucks sake. What’s your problem?” You clearly expect him to not answer your question and walk away. Hence your surprise when he suddenly turns around like a flash. Even a surprised gasp leaves your mouth when he storms toward you. Closes the distance between you completely. 

“You want me to talk?” Questions. His jaw slack. You gulp harshly, clearly not expecting the sudden outburst. Still, you stay rooted in your place. Returning the glare he’s shooting at you. You hate fighting. You especially hate fighting with Jungkook. It’s not normal. But you need to know what the hell is going on inside his head. So, you give him a firm nod. 

“Yes, Jungkook. If you have a problem with me or anything else, you need to talk that shit out. Maybe I can help you.” You grumble. Jungkook lets out a bitter chuckle.

“Problem.” He mutters to himself. “You wanna know what my problem is?” Asks from you this time. You nod again. Glad that he’s finally about to talk. Yet what he says next leaves you even more confused. “You.” Jungkook shouts so loud that you visibly wince before a deep scowl adorns your face. You gape at him. Not understanding what he just said. 

You?

You’re his problem?

How and why? You open your mouth stupidly like a fish. Wanting to ask him what he meant but no words leave you. Too stunned to speak. Jungkook doesn’t wait for you to process that though. “You are my problem Noona.” He brings his face closer to you. “There you go. Now you know what my problem is. Happy?” Taunts. You feel an ache in your chest. Nothing too harsh. Not yet at least. You’re in too much of a shock to process it and feel pained. 

“J-Jungkook.” You finally manage to call him weakly. “Wh-what are you-”

“You wanted to know. So, I told you. You. Are. My. Problem.” Jungkook repeats through clenched teeth. And that ache finally deepens. Your shock subsiding and a deep pain replacing it. As if Jungkook has just stabbed you right across your chest. Of course, it hurts. Jungkook is someone who you have grown to adore. He’s basically a part of your life. It hurts like a bitch when he treats you like this. Especially when you have no idea what’s the reason. 

“Why? What did I do?” You question meekly. Your voice is barely audible. Jungkook’s hard face softens at that immediately. He sighs heavily. 

“Gosh Noona, just fucking-” Groans. “You’re my problem because you’re a fucking idiot who keeps falling into Park fucking Jimin’s trap. You’re my problem because I no longer know how to protect you.” He doesn’t yell anymore. Voice soft and visibly pained.

Your frown deepens at his words. Your confusion easing as your anger gets back to you again. That’s his reason. Well, you never asked him to protect you. You're a grown woman who can manage things yourself. You know Jungkook cares deeply but this is just too much.

“Well, then don’t try to protect me.” 

“That’s the exact fucking problem here.” He raises his voice again. “ I don’t know how not to. I don’t know a way to sit back and watch you fuck up. All because of what? Why the hell can’t you just ask him to fuck off? Why on the earth would you always let him play with your life?” 

Well, a few weeks ago, you would’ve wondered as to why you’re doing it as well. Now though, you know the answer. But you’re not sure whether you should tell Jungkook that now. You try to come up with an answer when Jungkook doesn’t let you. 

“Why are you doing it,Noona? When he always fucks up. He left you alone for God’s sake. He let you get slapped in front of a fucking club. He followed his girlfriend and left you to manage your own shit and after all those things, you just let him fuck with you even more. I was the one who saw you crying like it was the end of the damn world. If that one time hurts like that, then do you have any idea how much it would hurt in the future.” Jungkook looks you dead in the eye. Everything he says is true. But you can’t help it. You just can’t. You feel your eyes prick with unshed tears. Your chin is starting to wobble. “Jimin is a fucking douchebag who doesn’t deserve a second in your life and you know that too. He treats you as a piece of trash and you let him in when he just follows you around and simply says sorry?” 

“Well, I can’t fucking help it.” You allow those unshed tears to roll down. Jungkook’s words cut you through like a sharp blade. Jimin doesn’t treat you like that. When you’re together Jimin treats you like you’re his sun and moon. But to others, you’re certain this is how your relationship must look like. You’re the piece of meat he uses and tosses away. And it hurts. You don’t want Jungkook pointing it out to you among everyone. Not him. He promised to be on your side no matter what. 

“Why the fuck not?” Jungkook’s loud voice booms across his living room. You almost take a step back before you catch yourself. Emotions overwhelm you so much that you can’t help but crack. 

“Because I like him!” You match his voice in sound. “I like him so damn much that I can’t help it.” A loud sob breaks through your throat. And that’s the only sound that fills the air as everything else falls into a deafening silence. Jungkook exhales a shaky breath. Takes a step back. You watch as a visible tremble goes through his entire body. You don’t know why he appears more hurt than surprised. His entire face turning dull. A stretched minute passes just like that. Jungkook is just gaping at you and you are just waiting for him to tell you something. Anything. But it’s just his pained eyes peering at you. Until he breaks it. 

“Okay. Fine… Thought you said it was just physical.” He mumbles. 

“Well, it was at f-”

“I don’t care, Li.”

What?

Jungkook turns around. You jump into action as you grab his arm. “J-Jungkook, where are you-” He yanks his arm away from your hold.

“Just let me be alone, will you please? I just don’t want to talk with you.”

That’s all he says before he disappears inside the bedroom. Door closing loudly behind him. You blankly stare at the now closed door. Not understanding why he’s so mad. But it doesn’t make it less hurt. It hurts so much.

Fuck your life.

You turn around as you wipe the tears away roughly using your hoodie sleeve. 

If he needs to be alone, then you’ll respect it. 

You simply walk toward the front door, not knowing what you should do.

………………………….

Jungkook thinks he’s about to explode. The urge to break something is overwhelming. If he could just  beat someone into a pulp that would help maybe. No, not anyone but that certain someone with blonde hair and a killer smile. The motherfucking oh so great CEO of RUN. Does Jungkook give a fuck about who Jimin is? Not at all. Not a single fuck. If he could find him right now, he’d make sure that Park Jimin never smiles that way again. That’s how much anger is brewing inside Jungkook. So much that his head pounds. Your words echoing inside his skull.

Because I like him!

I like him so damn much that I can’t help it.

A loud groan leaves Jungkook’s throat as he grabs the coffee mug on his table. It’s unfortunate how the mug has to pay the price when Jungkook hurls it across the room. But he needs to break something. He needs a way to release his pent up frustration. It feels satisfactory when the mug shatters into tiny pieces when it hits the wall. Only for a split second though. It’s clearly not enough. He can destroy this entire room if he wants to. Maybe then he’d feel satisfied. Or not. Either way Mrs. Kim won’t be happy to see the damage. Jungkook rubs his face frustratingly before dropping into his desk chair. 

He just needs to relax.

Deep breaths maybe. 

And fuck, breathing hurts. His chest hurts. He knows it’s not physical. But it certainly does feel physical. The squeeze in his heart. He absolutely doesn't want his anger to morph into pain. No. But that’s what is happening. It hurts so much. So damn much his sight is getting blurry with tears. There’s a lump forming in his throat. 

“Fuck!” Jungkook curses aloud. His cheap desk lamp faces the same fate as his mug when he sweeps it off the table. 

He can’t cry.

He doesn't want to cry.

Why does it even  hurt this way? It’s fucking ridiculous. It’s not like you and he have been in love or something. It’s just a stupid crush. And maybe, just maybe he knew this was coming all along. That you were starting to fall for that motherfucker. Of course, he knew. He saw that happen but he just decided to ignore it. Turn a blind eye just because he was too selfish to let go. He chose to believe your words for it. When you said you don’t like Jimin, Jungkook decided to just hang onto that hope. Who was he kidding? You were always too worried. Too heart broken. Too invested. Signs were always there. But he didn’t want to acknowledge them. 

Even now, when you had admitted it with your own mouth, Jungkook doesn’t want to believe it. To him it feels like Jimin has lured you into that. Like it’s not your fault but entirely Jimin’s. Jimin does not fucking deserve you. He puts you through so much pain probably because you’re a good fuck to him. Hell, Jimin probably doesn't like you. It pains Jungkook to think how you still want Jimin. 

Why the fuck does it have to be like this? Why can’t it be easy? 

Jungkook curls his fists into tight balls as the squeeze in his heart intensifies. 

This is the most pain he’s been in after his so- called ex broke up with him to follow her dreams. This is exactly why J and Namjoon were worried. Jungkook always gets too attached. Too smitten. And he always ends up being heart broken. Just like this. What’s most pathetic is how he never even had a chance. You don’t even know what’s happening. You must be so damn confused why he is so rude to you. You don’t know that he’s not just being a good friend. 

He cares about you. Of course, he does. He doesn’t want to see you hurt and crying. It hurts him too. But also, he wants you to want him too. How much of a beautiful dream it would be. But it’s too late now isn’t it? 

Funny, how he thought he’d actually have a chance. How he had thought you’d actually end things with Jimin. Oh, how he wanted to kill Jimin that day at the restaurant. He knew you had given yourself to Jimin yet again, the moment you came back inside the kitchen. Can you blame him for being mad? Ignoring you because it had hurt him? Waiting just to see if you’d put effort for him? You did, yes. But at what cost, though? Look at him now. 

Jungkook takes a deep breath. Blinking back the tears. There’s no reason to cry. It’s just a silly crush and it’d go away. He just liked you and you don’t like him in return. That’s how sometimes the world works and he needs to accept it. Now since you’ve told him yourself that you like Jimin, he should let you go. Maybe he’ll learn not to care too much and everything will be fine. He can be the friend you want him to be. Right?

Yes, of course. Everything’s going to be fine.

Jungkook averts his gaze to the window by the table. He has his curtains pulled aside but there’s no light coming through them. Outside is too gloomy. Harsh rain drops are beating against his window. Rain has swelled into a deafening cascade. 

Wait!

Jungkook perks up suddenly in alert. Glancing back at his closed bedroom door. He sure did hear the front door opening and closing. A warning alarm starts to ring inside his head. You left the apartment for sure. But where did you go? It’s fucking down pouring. Did you go to the restaurant? If you did then that’s fine but what if you- stupid stubborn brat- have gone outside. Jungkook stands up abruptly. Worry etching into his whole body. 

So much for learning how not to care too much. Will he ever be able to learn that? 

Will he?

Jungkook takes a minute. A minute to think you are in danger. Hurt. Physically or mentally. A shiver runs down his spine at the prospect. Your pained face flashes across his mind. The way you had looked at him when he called you Li. The way you called after him and your vain attempt to stop him. The hurt in your eyes. Fuck! He hurt you. And above all the fucked up emotions he’s feeling, guilt roars. 

He hurt you. 

Jungkook stumbles toward the door in a rush. Not even knowing where he’s going as he storms out of the apartment. 

……………………..

A breath of relief escapes Jungkook’s lips just as he enters the back alley of Kim's restaurant and his eyes fall upon your curled figure on an empty beer crate. A cigarette between your fingers as you exhale a slow drag. The heavy rain pelting the asphalt roads sends tiny splashes around, wetting your small figure. Jungkook clenches his jaw out of frustration. It had taken him a good ten minutes to find you. Mrs. Kim was the one who finally pointed him in the right direction. And you’ve been here this whole time getting drenched like an idiot?

“Are you a fucking idiot?” Jungkook walks toward you with furrowed brows. You jerk as you turn your head toward him. That’s when he catches the redness in your eyes. Puffy. His heart aches painfully. He’s the one who made you cry. Not Jimin. He’s just like Jimin, after all. Hurting you. Jungkook hides his pain behind the mask of annoyance as he grabs another empty crate and turns it upside down. “Can’t you see it’s fucking raining? What the hell are you doing here dressed like that and-” He rakes his eyes over your figure. You’ve not even wearing any shoes for fucks sake. “- God, it’s cold Noona, you’ll get sick.” Sits on the crate. Examining your features. You say nothing. Just look away. Nor do you protest when Jungkook steals your cigarette. “Yah!” So, Jungkook has to make you look at him. He does it by grabbing your chin. You still don’t say anything but just gaping at him. Then you push his hand away. 

“Thought you wanted to be alone.” Finally speak. Eyes back on the road. 

“Yes, and I changed my mind.” Jungkook takes a drag from the cigarette before he throws it to a puddle near him. 

“Yah!” Your whiny protest is drowned out by a loud thunder. “That’s the last one I had.” Yet you continue to complain.

“It’s okay. I have a pack with me. Let’s go inside, hm?” He eyes you apologetically. You pout adorably. Don’t answer his question, however. 

“Why did you change your mind?” You ask instead. 

“You know why Noona. Because I care too fucking much.” A silence falls. Stretches.

“I really don’t want you to care, Jungkook.”

“Well, I already told you once that it’s not up to you to decide. It’s up to me.”

“Then don’t fucking get mad at me because I don’t know what to do either. I can’t fucking-”

“Help it. Yes, I know.” Jungkook completes for you. Not because he doesn’t want to listen to you. But because he knows. He knows you can’t help it. Just like he can’t help it either. You turn your glassy eyes toward him. You’re about to cry again. You’re hurting. Jungkook feels his feigned annoyance evaporate into thin air. He throws his arm around you. Drags you into his side. You snuggle against him immediately. “I know you can’t, baby. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have-” Jungkook has to swallow hard to get rid of the lump in his throat. “- yelled at you. It’s not your fault. I’m sorry.” 

“I really don’t want to fight with you Kookie. Don’t want you to be mad at me. Don’t want to lose you either. You’re so precious to me.” You mumble against his chest. He tightens his grip on you. 

“I know, Noona.” He presses a gentle kiss in your hair. He knows exactly how you use the word precious. You’re just telling him how important he is to you as a friend. A fucking friend. Only if you knew the truth, though. The way he wants to kiss you hard now. Hard enough that you’d forget any other man’s name but his. It’s not fair on you really. He had lashed out on you earlier because he was so hurt to hear you say that you like someone else who’s not him. Because he likes you. Too much. And it’s not your fault. But he can’t tell you that now, can he?

He should. He should let you know what a messed up situation this is. Should let you decide what you’re going to do. Then there's his selfish part. He cares about you dearly, but at the same time he doesn’t want to let you go. Even when he knows you like Jimin. Even when he knows he is just a friend to you. He doesn’t want to. He still wants to keep you with him someway. It’ll hurt even more if he does that. To see you with Jimin. Still, Jungkook wants loads of moments just like now. With you. Just you and him. How selfish. 

Jungkook places his chin on your head. Looking past you. A moment ago he was so hurt that he thought it’s really time he should let go. Until now. At this moment when he finds solace in you. Peaceful. Painful, yes but also peaceful. Fuck everything else and future heartbreaks. If Jimin can be fucking selfish, then he can too. He’s not just going to let you go. No. Because he can’t. He’s too fucked up. Can’t even imagine how it’d be to not have you in his place. It’s already hard in the days you’re not here. So, yes. He’s messed up everything already.

He’s in trouble. He likes you a little too much. And he’s ready to fight. So is he ready to get hurt and pretend like he’s mad just because he cares. “I’m so sorry.” He mumbles again. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know but Jimin isn’t going to hurt me. Not intentionally anyway.” You finally raise your head. Jungkook lets you reluctantly. He wants to laugh at your words. Doesn’t, however. Just scoffs. 

“We’ll see about that. I mean, I’m on your side like I always said but,” He looks at your tear stained face. “I’m gonna break his bones one of these days. I’m on your side, not his. He’s still a fucking shithole and someone needs to knock some sense into him.” Looks away from you. 

“Yah! You won’t do such a thing, Jeon Jungkook.” You nudge him with your shoulder. Jungkook just looks at you with a stern face. “I mean, he does things..uh.. but he has his reasons.” You reason weakly. Oh, how Jungkook hates when you defend Jimin. 

“Yeah? Like what?” You don’t answer that. “Exactly what I thought.” Jungkook doesn’t want to be rude to you. But can’t help but pointing you at the truth either. For selfish reasons, of course. Your face falls. Oh, fuck he doesn’t like to see you upset. “Okay, then I won’t break all of his bones, just one maybe.” Jungkook sighs heavily as he adds. He’s in no mood to joke. Yet he wants to lift up yours. Wants to make you laugh. It doesn’t give the desired effect, however. You scowl deeply at him. “Oh c,mon,he has 206. I can totally break one and that’s not a big deal.” He rolls his eyes. You gape at him for a minute before a laugh slips through your beautiful lips. 

“Oh my god, Jungkook. You’re the fucking worst.” You shove him away. Playfully. And Jungkook really can’t help the way his mouth stretched into a wide grin. It’s scary how you can do that to him. Well, he’s not going to dwell on that. This is going to end very badly. But until then he’s going to be selfish and keep you. Makes you happy and be the shoulder you come to cry. He’d not think about his own sanity. He’s fucking crazy anyway. So fucked up. 

Jungkook snakes an arm around your figure again. You rest your head on his shoulder. “But seriously, Noona, I’m so sorry for- uh- earlier-”

“You don’t have to apologize, Kookie.”

“Yeah? How about Ice cream then?”

“Hm, that sounds acceptable.” A soft giggle escapes you. 

“Deal.” Jungkook mutters. “Oh, and Tae wants us to hang out at his place tonight. Dinner or something. And he specifically said drinks are on him. I think he wants to pay back Namjoon since those animals just inhaled all the alcohol that day.” He quickly adds. You straighten up immediately. 

“Really? And you want to go? I thought you don’t like any of them. You looked like you wanted to kill Tae.” You blink at his face confused. To tell the truth, Jungkook doesn’t like them. Because Taehyung and the rest are helping Jimin to ruin you. Helping Jimin to take you away from him. But if he thinks about it, if it wasn’t for that, Jungkook would have become best buddies with Taehyung. Jungkook likes Taehyung. Or at least he did before all this. Their energy just matches. So, he thinks maybe he'd be able to look past everything. Besides, you look like you need all the distractions in the world. 

“Yes. I want to go. I mean free drinks Noona. Who’s gonna turn that down? Not me for sure.” He gives you a smug look. You accept that excuse. “And if I have time, I’ll find a way to kill our host. Now-” Jungkook stands up from the crate. Holds his hand for you. You take it without questions. “-let’s just bribe you with Ice cream.” He pulls you to your feet. 

You giggle adorably.

Jungkook thinks his heart just exploded. 

………………………..

There were two main reasons for you to be excited about a hang-out at Taehyung’s place. Much needed distraction and a fun night was obviously the second reason. Your first and main reason for wanting to be here tonight undoubtedly was Jimin. You expected to see Jimin for the first time after weeks at Taehyung’s place. You were giddy and excited like a silly school girl about the prospect. Butterflies were swarming inside your tummy as you got ready for the night. Beautifully. Putting up extra effort to appear a little bit more sexy than you already were. You didn’t even want a chance to talk with Jimin. No need of hearing any explanations. You just wanted to see him. Wanted to see the way he beams to see you back. A little boyish smile from him. 

But now when you’re here. Sitting at Taehyung’s couch, obviously third wheeling two J’s- Jin and J- you feel utterly stupid. Oh, so stupid. There’s not a sign of Park Jimin. At first you thought he’s just late. It’s been more than two hours now, however. At this rate you’re positive that he isn't attending. How ridiculous. All the effort you put in is for nothing. 

You throw a sneaky glance at your phone. You have texted him like five times now. No reply. Not for a single one. Oh, how you want to scream. You’re getting restless. This puts you on edge. It makes you sad if he’s not going to be here but what makes you mad is the fact that he’s ignoring you. The night is going to be exhausting for you. At least Jungkook is enjoying himself. You look at him at the other corner of the living room. Being so enamoured about Taehyung’s little figurine collection. Despite claiming he didn’t like Taehyung, he seemed to be getting along with him quite well. Is clinging to Taehyung at his hip. 

Funny thing. Jungkook is. 

As though he sensed your stares Jungkook turns around at the right moment. Meeting your eyes and beaming. “Noona. Have you seen this? This little shit has the entire collection of Eclipse Vanguard.” Walks toward you with a figurine that looks like a frog. A frog eating a sandwich. You throw a skeptical glance at it when Jungkook holds it for you. You don’t know what that movie is. But have heard Jungkook talk about it before. 

“I’ll pretend that I didn’t hear you calling me a little shit.” Taehyung grumbles as he joins you two. Both you and Jungkook ignore him. 

“Why’s it a frog and why is the damn frog eating a sandwich?” You inspect the figurine on your hands. 

“That’s the snack guardian. That’s why he’s eating a sandwich.” Jungkook plops next to you on the couch with a grin. You snort loudly. Guardian of what now? Open your mouth to tell him how ridiculous that sounds when Taehyung interrupts you. 

“Wait? You haven’t watched Eclipse Vanguard? How’s that even possible?” He questions in disbelief. Sits at the armchair right across from you. A glass of whiskey in his hand. 

Oh, fuck!

You stare at his face dumbly for a second before averting your gaze to Jungkook. In hope that he’d save you from the situation. He does.

“Why not? She doesn’t like that movie.” Jungkook states, matter of factly. Even nods to prove his point. You agree with Jungkook by violently nodding. 

“Yes. I hate it.” Add just for the sake of it. Taehyung lets out a loud gasp in offense. Turns his mouth into a wide ‘o’ and clutches his chest. Tries to say something when Yoona butts in. 

“Really? You hate it? I mean, as a person who loves art, I normally don’t watch shitty movies but I loved the Eclipse V. Series. Not so bad.” She hands over another drink to Namjoon before sitting on his lap. Taehyung is apparently showering everyone with drinks. And everyone seems to be in a good mood. Except you, of course. 

“No, no. It’s the shittiest I’ve ever seen.” J suddenly perks up. Leans forward so she can look at you over Jin. “If you haven’t seen it yet, Li, just trust me, don’t watch it.” 

“Yah! Do. Not. Fucking. Shit. Talk about my favourite movie.” Jungkook bellows as he throws a cushion at J, which Jin catches easily.

“But it is the shittiest. I can’t even understand why you guys like it.” J flips off Jungkook before turning his attention to Jin. “Don’t tell me you like it too?” Questions. Jin opens his mouth awkwardly. Just to close it back and give J a sheepish smile. 

“If you tell you don’t like it Hyung, I’m gonna burn your entire CD collection and steal your figurines.” Hoseok mindlessly says as he’s scrolling through his phone. The guy looks surprisingly sober compared to other gatherings you’ve had before. Yoongi snorts. “You have a collection too?” Asks Jin smugly when Jin groans. Ignores Yoongi.

“I’d like to see you try stealing my collection Hobi. In case you don’t know I can be pretty violent if I want to.”

Everyone breaks into stating their own opinions following that. Someone arguing why Seokjin would never be violent while someone going on about why Eclipse Vanguard is a good movie. None of it makes any sense and is not related to each other. Yet, it’s getting heated, nonetheless. Taehyung even has to sit up and guard his little figurines from J. Jungkook joins him as well. A small smile graces over your lips at the sudden chaos in the wonderland as your eyes drift to your empty wine glass. You’ve already downed flour glasses. Are getting there while already being more than tipsy. But you’re up to get drunk until your vision turns black tonight.

You get up on your feet while Jin tries to explain to an offended J, why she has an awful taste. 

“Well, if I have a bad taste, then what does that tell about you, Mr. Kim. Seok. Jin. You’re obviously one of my choices and are you telling me that you’re an awful one.” J tilts her head sassily as you pass her. 

You quickly glance at Jungkook to check if he wants another drink but he’s busy creating a pillow fortress around Taehyung’s figurines. Drunk. Is already drunk. Just like Taehyung. Two men are giggling like teenage girls. You shake your head as you walk past everyone toward the kitchen. Namjoon and Yoona are in their own world while Hoseok and Yoongi are in a serious conversation. You guess the topic of that very serious conversation is about the same movie. 

You enter the silent and empty kitchen. You’ve had pizza for dinner. Empty pizza boxes are still lying on the kitchen counter, surrounded by different liquor bottles. Seoyeon isn’t going to be happy about the mess. You pick up the red wine bottle thinking that you should get this cleaned before you leave. 

When you asked Taehyung about Seoyeon’s whereabouts he had just vaguely mumbled she had work. No one questioned anything more. 

You fill the glass to the brim with expensive wine. Well, you want to get drunk and Taehyung is giving you free drinks. Who can complain? You sip your drink a little as you turn around to join the crowd again. Only to come into a dead halt and jump in your spot at the sudden figure just appears in front of you. 

“Holy shit!” You curse aloud as some of the wine spills onto your black top. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” Jimin blurts out as he grabs some tissues. Walking directly toward you and starting to dab at your blouse, right away. You just peer at his face with an open mouth. 

Oh!

Jimin.

He’s here finally. Jimin made it.

You feel that giddy sensation inside you. Almost makes you grin wide but you catch yourself. He’s here. But he hasn’t replied to your texts and has been putting you on the edge. You click your tongue in annoyance. Snatch the tissues from Jimin’s hand, making the poor guy startle. 

“I can do it myself.” You grumble. Start to dab away the spilled wine from your top. Trying not to look at Jimin but he makes your attempt futile by softly grabbing your chin. Tilt your face upward. Peers at your eyes.

“Hey!” Mumbles oh, so softly that you’re positive you just melted into a little puddle. Your annoyance starts to dissipate under his warm gaze. You hate the effect he has on you. “Someone’s in a mood.” Jimin adds. Gives you an amused smile. Bites on his bottom lip that you can’t help but drop your gaze into his pink lips. 

“I am in a mood. You didn’t even reply to me.” You pout. Now you look at him closely and carefully, you can see how tired he looks. There’s that glint in his eyes but he looks exhausted. You can understand he has a job to do. And maybe you  shouldn’t give him a hard time too. So, you sigh heavily, ready to apologize and say that it’s okay. Jimin beats you to it, however. His amused smile vanishes. Entire expression turns so serious that you feel your stomach churn uncomfortably. A prickle of sensation that something isn’t right engulfs you whole. 

“I’m sorry. I had to uh…” You flicker your gaze between Jimin’s brown orbs. Waiting patiently for him to tell you what happened while he hesitates. You want him to tell you. You want to know. Not because you’re nosy and curious but it makes you happy to think that Jimin tells you about his problems. How funny. But you need that. Yet his next words make you regret ever wanting to know that at all. “Was with Liya’s family. A dinner.” Jimin drops his hand down. 

You feel your stomach drop. 

“Oh!” That’s all you could come up with. There’s a sudden bitterness in your tongue. Your blood starts to boil. 

Jealousy! 

There’s no way you can deny it anymore. No way you can mistake it as something else. You’re undoubtedly, unmistakably are getting fucking jealous. Well, of course, you are. You like Park Jimin. A lot in that case. Anything and everything that has him to do with another girl makes you burn with jealousy. Even though you have no right to. Jimin would think you’re crazy if he ever knew. So, you bite inside your cheeks to calm yourself. Try to say it’s cool when a sudden voice interrupts you. 

“No Seoyeon, I can’t drink tonight. It’s an early morning tomorrow.” You recognize the voice right away. Jimin steps away from you. Just a little. You pretend that it doesn't hurt you when Seoyoen enters the kitchen first, closely followed by Kim Liya. Why would you even be surprised? This is Seoyeon’s place and Liya is going to be here. That doesn’t make you feel any better, however.  

Seoyeon stops dead at the track right as her eyes land on you. Liya stops behind her. Her eyes darting between you and Jimin. You feel small under the attention. 

“Why are you here?” Seoyeon questions with a sharp edge in her voice. Heat rushes to your face instantly. 

Oh, how embarrassing. You don’t even know how to answer her.

“Probably because she’s invited.” Jimin answers on your behalf. Which you don’t appreciate much by the way Seoyeon throws him a scandalous look. A moment passes. 

“Why are you speaking for her? She can’t talk?” Seoyeon scoffs. “It’s okay Seo.” Liya breaths out. Steps around Seoyeon to walk toward the drinks. You throw a skeptical glance at her. Seoyeon, however, isn’t ready to listen to her best friend, it seems. 

“It’s not okay, Liya.” She mumbles before pointing a finger toward you. “You.” She grits. “How fucking dare you come here, after all the shits you’ve done? To my place at that? After you went behind my best friend's back? What kind of a sister are you? And you have the fucking audacity to step inside my house-”

“Okay, shut the fuck up Seoyoen. It’s none of your fucking business.” You wince when Jimin’s sudden voice booms across the spacious kitchen. 

“How’s that not my business? This is my house for fucks sake!”

“Then ask your damn boyfriend why he invited her.” A silence falls. For a second before Taehyung breaks it by barging in. Just by the look on his face, you know people heard the commotion inside the kitchen. Taehyung is scowling deeply and his jaw is slack when he makes it next to Seoyeon. 

“What’s happening?” He asks Jimin. Jimin chuckles. In a very taunting way. “Ask your rude little girlfriend. You forgot to get her permission before inviting people here.” Jimin glares at Seoyeon so hard that you worry she’d actually burn for a minute. Taehyung throws Jimin a look in displeasure. It’s a low blow, after all. 

“I don’t need anyone’s permission to invite my friends to my place.” Taehyung puts extra emphasis in the last few words. Averts his gaze to his girlfriend. Seoyeon doesn’t look back at him. Her eyes are still on you. You feel beyond uncomfortable at this rate. And that intensifies when you catch Jungkook entering the kitchen. A murderous glare in his eyes. This is not good. You don’t want anyone to fight. 

“Yeah? But you can’t fucking invite sluts to our home, Kim Taehyung.”

“What the fuck did you say?” Jimin steps forward just a second before Jungkook does. You just want to shrink. Want the floor to split open and swallow you whole. 

“I called her a slut, Jimin. Why? Does that bother you?”

“For fucks sake Seoyeon, will you just shut up?” Teahyung doesn’t let Jimin tell anything else. You feel your head spin. Seoyeon yells something that doesn’t quite reach your ears. So does Taehyung. You wander your gaze from the fighting couple to Jungkook. Just standing there like an animal ready to attack his prey any minute. 

God this is not good.

You notice with your blurry gaze that the rest of your friends have made it to the kitchen as well. Great! Now you’re making a fool out of yourself in front of everyone, again. You’re causing chaos everywhere you go. The argument is getting heated by every passing minute. You need to end this. Or at least you need to remove the cause of this stupid fight. Which is you. 

“I’ll just leave.” You shout over everyone’s voice. Everything falls into silence at once. All eyes are dropping on you. “Kookie, can we go?” You ask Jungkook. Don’t wait for his answer as you almost step away. Almost since even before you can take a step forward, Jimin’s hand grabs your wrist tightly.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

What?

You feel your heart beating in your throat. This is ridiculous. See now, you’d be very glad that Jimin is standing with you. Defending you. Taking your side. But at this moment, you think it’d do more harm than any good. The way Jin’s- who’s standing behind a horrified looking J- face tightens is the best proof for that. These people might have forgiven your sins once but now you’re sure they’d just want to kill you with their bare hands. 

“Jimin.” You whisper yells to no avail. Jimin gives you a look. You’re getting embarrassed. 

“Gosh, this is-” Seoyeon rakes her fingers through her raven hair. “Why the fuck are you just watching this Liya?” Suddenly turns to Liya. Who’s been awfully quiet all these times. Hell, you nearly even forgot her. You turn your head toward her to catch her just sipping wine. 

Really?

She straightens up when attention falls on her. “What? It’s not like that anyone would listen to anyone, anyway.” She shrugs. Looks like she’s made a point but no one seems impressed. “Okay.” So, she sighs after a beat. Looks at Jimin. “I mean, it’s good that my boyfriend is sticking up to my family.” States as a smile spreads across her face. You feel Jimin tense beside you. Something is wrong. “I really appreciate you taking my side Seo,” Liya averts her eyes to Seoyeon again. “But, it's a little rude and impolite that you’re asking to leave a guest who’s clearly invited here.” Places her wine glass away. 

Okay, now this doesn’t make any sense. What the fuck is Liya doing. Even Seoyeon looks baffled. Her entire face turns red. Opens and closes her mouth like a goldfish. “Are you serious, right now?” Mutters almost inaudibly.

“Yes. Very. Besides, even though I didn’t expect to see my sister here, I’m glad that you’re here.” Liya pays her full attention to you now. Her eyes flicker to where Jimin is touching you. It feels like her gaze can burn you. You get the urge to yank your hand away but Jimin doesn’t allow you. “Since you miss the family dinner and all.” She smiles again. A smile that oozes venom. You watch her smug expression. Not exactly knowing whether you want to hear what she has to say or not. Before anything, however, Jimin steps up. Drags you behind him. As if he’s afraid that Liya’d hit you again.

“Not now, Liya!” States sternly. That voice doesn’t do anything to falter Liya’s smile, though. 

“Why not? She’s family. She deserves to know it. And so does everyone here. Taehyung here would be heartbroken if you hide something so important from him, baby.” Liya gestures to Taehyung, who’s looking at Jimin intently. 

“Okay, what’s going on?” Seoyeon is the one who raises the question, however. Liya gives Jimin a ‘see what I said’ kind of look. Jimin ignores her. Turns to you. Looks past you and glance at the still very dangerously calm and collected Jungkook. 

“You’re both drunk. Let me drop you both off.” Mumbles. You know he’s trying to avoid whatever Liya is about to say. And for some reason, you don’t want to listen to that either. You nod lightly and almost turn to Jungkook to see if he agrees when Liya chuckles. 

“We’re getting engaged.” Her voice comes out loud and clear. Enough to be heard by everyone in the vicinity. And you freeze. Completely. Your ears start to ring and your heart beat slows down.

They are doing, what now?

“Wait? What?” You don’t know who asks that. Maybe, Hoseok. Or Taehyung.

“Engaging? When? Why all of a sudden?” That’s definitely Jin and he steps all the way inside the kitchen. You look at Jimin. Confused. He looks stressed. Pissed but also guilty. That’s not good. 

“No. It’s not-” Jimin starts only to get interrupted. 

“No? Oh, but I thought we both agreed, Jimin. When my parents asked about it?” Liya steps toward Jimin and he finally lets go of your hand. His full attention on Liya. 

“You agreed, not me.” Jimin shouts.

“Then what? Did you say no? I didn’t hear you say no.”

“Wait? Just tell us what’s the fucking rush?” Hoseok butts in. His voice is serious. You don’t want to be here. 

“There’s no rush Hoseok. We’ve been together for like five years and my parents think it’s time. I think it’s time.” Liya answers Hoseok dismissively. You want to go. 

“Can we fucking talk about this later? This is ridiculous that you brought this up in front of everyone.” Jimin grabs Liya’s attention back to him. “I just announced the happy news, Jimin.” Liya counters. 

Happy news!

How funny that you don’t see a single happy person here. Half looks surprised, Seoyeon being the most surprised one. And the other half looks angry, Jimin being the most angered one. This is humiliating. You don’t know what other people are thinking about you. Do they pity you? Disgust you? 

You just want to leave. 

Well, no one’s stopping you right now. Jimin is no longer holding you. You can leave. You turn to Jungkook instantly. Don’t give a fuck about what’s happening here anymore. It doesn’t matter anyway. It hurts, yes. So damn much but you think this is how it’s always meant to end. You were and always will be the other woman. You shouldn’t have let Jimin drag you back into this mess. Maybe Jungkook is right. Jimin is playing you skillfully. 

“Kookie, let’s leave.” You mumble to Jungkook. Jungkook perks up. His expression is unreadable. He says nothing, however. Just nods. 

You turn to Liya at the same time Jimin turns to you. “Congratulations, you both!” You mutter looking between Jimin and Liya. You don’t want to appear weak. You like Jimin but only you and Jungkook know. You think it’s embarrassing to let other people know the truth as well. It’s better to keep your dignity and walk away like this is nothing. You force yourself to smile. 

“No, what? Lil, no. I’ll just- wait for me, I’ll drop you both off.” Jimin tries again to stop you but you avoid his hands successfully this time. 

“No need Jimin. We’ll take a cab. Just- uh.. Yeah, see you guys later.” You bow lightly to everyone. Yes, you can pretend everything’s fine and leave. Can cry later and nobody would ever know how hurt you are. As long as they don’t know it’s not humiliating. Jimin, however, doesn’t appear to understand at all. 

“No, fuck no. I’m coming with you or you’re staying here.” You look at the way that familiar fire inside his eyes. And that fire ignites the gasoline inside you. You feel your nerves lit up. How dare he think he can demand you? After everything? Yet before you can say anything else a hand comes landing on Jimin’s chest firmly.

“She said she wants to leave, asshole.” Jungkook shouts at the same time he pushes Jimin back. Gets Jimin in surprise that he loses his balance for a minute before he catches himself. Then before you know it he's grabbing from Jungkook’s t-shirt. 

“The fuck is your problem, Jeon. Fucking stay away.” Jimin grits. Pushes Jungkook too. A shiver runs through you. Jungkook mutters something incoherent as he lashes at Jimin. This time Jimin being ready to avoid it and fight back but you step between them immediately. 

“No. Kook. No..” You place your hand on his chest. 

“Fucking stay away Noona.” Jungkook doesn’t listen to you. So, you have no other options but to yell.

“Fucking stop acting like a kid, will you?” It works. He halts. Turns his furious glare at you. Takes a minute then a soft chuckle leaves him. “I want to leave. Just fucking go.” That’s all you say before you grab his hand. Starting to storm away. Jimin says something else in panic. You’re positive he tries to follow you. Last thing you hear is Taehyung stopping him.

“Let them leave Jimin. Not like you’re gonna solve this mess, anyway.”

Exactly! 

He’s not going to solve this mess at all.

……………………..

The entire cab ride into Jungkook’s place happened in silence. In deafening silence but the tension and the anger brewing inside both of you screamed so palpable it felt almost audible.

You were mad at lots of things. Mad at yourself for falling into Jimin’s spell again when you knew deep down that it would never end well. Mad that you allow yourself to walk into this mess. Fall for Jimin. You’re mad at Jimin for being so selfish. For giving you false promises about everything getting better one day when he probably doesn’t even like you. Mad at Jimin for acting that way in front of everyone and making them hate you even more. Mad at Jimin for making you like him when you have no hopes at all. 

Then you’re mad at Jungkook. For trying to fight Jimin like a mad cow when it wasn’t his battle to fight. For letting his emotions get the best of him.For making you feel and appear weak. Making you look like you can’t stand up for yourself. But above all you’re mad at this stupid situation that has put you in this mess. 

Fuck everything.

You are still vibrating with your anger by the time you enter Jungkook’s house behind him. You close the door behind you. Glare at his retreating figure. Not even caring to remove his shoes. 

“Remove your fucking shoes, Joen.” You shout, making him stop. Just for him to ignore you and continue walking. “Yah!” You kick away your own shoes. Follow after Jungkook to stop him by grabbing his arm. “You’re making a mess of the floor.” You turn him around. 

“And why the fuck would you care?” He matches your voice. 

“Because you’re dirtying the floor.” Both of you know that you don’t give a damn about the floor. You’re just trying to pick up a fight. And you feel frustrated when Jungkook just removes his shoes without a word. Steps out of them. 

“Happy?” Asks. Starts to walk away again. You feel like crying due to the burning anger inside you. 

“Why did you do that?” You just won’t let Jungkook off the hook that easily. It’s not fair really. Sweet Jungkook doesn’t deserve to be the target of your wrath for many different things. But you’re too deep in your emotions to care. 

“Did what?” Jungkook breaths out. 

“Fight Jimin?”

“Really?” Jungkook turns around again. “Well, I did tell you that I’m going to break his bones one of these days, didn’t I? And that fucker need to know his place. I don’t give a fuck about his status or anything else Noona. He just can’t demand you around like that when he’s the one in the wrong. Who the fuck does he think he is?”

“I could’ve handled it perfectly fine by myself. I don’t want you to fucking fight on my behalf.” 

“Then fucking do it, dammit.” Jungkook closes the distance between you like a flash. Cups your cheeks and pushes you back so fast that you don’t even register your back has hit the wall. “Then do it. Call him now, ask him to fuck off and leave you alone. Tell him that it’s fucking over. You didn’t fight for yourself, Noona. You just stood there looking like a broken doll. You were so worried and looking forward to seeing him  when he was planning his damn engagement. And then you just congratulate them? What the fucking is wrong with you? Why are you letting them belittle you that way?”

“I-I..” You try to come up with something. Just to realize that you don’t know what to say. You didn’t know that you looked broken that moment, after all. 

“I don’t even get why you like Jimin, anyway. He’s a rude asshole like I always said. Why do you like him, Noona? What the fuck does he have? He made you cum so hard that you fell in love with him?” Jungkook brings his face inches closer to you. You gulp harshly. “Well, guess what, he’s not the only one who can do that. I can do it, you know. I can make you cum harder than him and can treat you way fucking better.” 

“Ju-jungkook.” You feel dumb. Stunned. Completely speechless. Among everything, this is something you’ve expected the least. What’s Jungkook even talking about? No. No, he can’t be serious. 

“I can do it all better, Noona.” Jungkook’s raised voice suddenly drops. Whispers against your mouth, instead. That’s the only warning you get before you feel his soft lips on yours. Harsh. Hard. Instantly falling into moving against your mouth. A surprised gasp leaves you as your eyes go wide. It takes your fogged mind a damn minute to register what’s happening. Too surprised. When it does, an alarm blares in your mind. 

No. No. Not Jungkook. 

You bring up a hand to push him away by his chest. Or at least try to. Jungkook just grabs that hand and holds it to your side, firmly. Not breaking your kiss. 

No… you can’t do this. This is Jungkook. He’s too precious. You can’t allow a single mistake to ruin things between you. 

Jungkook deepens the kiss. Muffles your weak protests. Bites onto your lower lip. Seek entrance into your mouth but when you don’t give it, he finally breaks apart. 

“Noona, please.” He whines. Pleads. “Just let’s try one time.” Kisses the corner of your mouth. “Please.”

An involuntary shiver runs through your body. 

No, no, no. You shouldn’t even think about this. It’s your Jungkook. 

Then Jimin’s smile flashes across your mind.

You shouldn’t do this at all.

“C’mon baby, let me show you.” Jungkook inches his trail of kisses down toward your neck. Wet and sensual. You can’t help but whimper. Your head starts spinning. Alcohol in your system makes the electricity you’re feeling intensifies. You’re drunk and angry. If you do this, it’s going to be a huge mistake. But it feels good. And you can’t deny how attractive Jungkook is. He is no Jimin but still he’s a godly looking man and you’re just a woman. Besides, a distraction can do you good. A way to release this anger. It’s not like you’re obliged for Jimin, are you? If he can fucking plan on an engagement while you were pathetically waiting for his explanation, then you’re allowed to do anything you want. And Jungkook wants this too. He’s the one asking and begging. 

You allow another beat to pass before you tangle your fingers in his black hair locks. Pull from them to get him facing you. Don’t even let Jungkook comprehend what’s happening as you attack his lips with yours. This time you don’t wait till he seeks entrance. Just push your tongue past his lips without any reluctance from his side. Jungkook groans in appreciation. Starts kissing you like he’s lost his mind. Rough and hard. Like he wants everything from you. Never breaks the intense kiss when he slips his hands past your ass. Toward your thighs. You moan aloud which he swallows when he picks you up from the floor easily. You tangle your legs around his waist. Keep kissing him ignoring your lungs’ protests until he walks both of you toward the couch.

Jungkook drops you into the couch. Bending down with you and still not breaking the kiss. You expect him to push you into your back and get on top of you. Then for much of your dismay, he just breaks the kiss. A trail of saliva connecting your kiss bitten lips. You whine in complaint when he smiles wickedly. But also somehow innocently. Kisses your throat. A shudder ripples through you. 

“Gonna fucking worship you baby.” Kisses your shoulder. “Gonna treat you so well.” Kisses your nipple over your top. Your back arches. 

“Kookie.”

“Treat you so so well.” Kisses your stomach. You tread your fingers in his hair again. Nearly comes on the spot when he goes into his knees. He urges your legs apart by your ankles. Bends them on your knees. Your skirt bunches up around your waist. He places a hard kiss into your pulsing core over your skirt. Rubs your thighs softly before bringing his hands closer toward the waistband of your panties. “Let me, baby.” Looks at you with the most hungriest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. Waits for your approval. You nod almost frantically. “Thankyou.” Jungkook mumbles. Drags your panties down through your legs. 

You moan at the sensation of cool air at your heated core first. Then you moan at the way Jungkook’s eyes darken at the sight of your core. He audibly moans. Fucking moans.

“Holy shit, Jungkook.” You rasp while you feel a little shy under his scrutinising gaze. 

“Holy shit, indeed. Fuck, Noona.” He averts his eyes from your core to your face. You blush hard. Almost cover your face with your palms when he acts faster than you. Holds into your hands. “Don’t please. You’re so fucking beautiful.” He purrs. Eyes back on your glistening pussy. “And wet. God you’re so wet, pet. Dripping.” Coos. Licks his lips. You buck your hips toward his face. Burning up from lust. 

“Kookie please.” You croak. And Jungkook doesn’t let you suffer at all. Just as the words leave your mouth, you feel his nose nudging at your clit. Then his lips replace his nose. A tender kiss at your pearl. Your toes curl and your head falls back into the headrest. Then he places another kiss. Then another. A kiss after a kiss. Until you lose your mind. Jungkook pulls away after what felt like an eternity. Pauses to admire your core before looking directly in your eyes. Keeps his eyes on yours when he spits onto your clit.

“You’re so damn beautiful, Noona.” You tremble violently. Jungkook rubs his spit into your slit using two fingers. Slowly. Sensually. As if he has all the time in the world. Keeps rubbing over and over again. Making you gasp and moan. “The prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.” Stares at your throbbing core as if he’s in a trance. Kisses your clit, yet again.

“Oh, God.” You press his face into your core, impatiently. He doesn’t complain. Just let you rub your aching cunt on his face. You whimper and whine. Which turns into broken moans when Jungkook parts his lips and wraps them around your clit. Starts sucking. Grazes his teeth softly. And you’re melting. So far gone in the pleasure Jungkook is creating between your thighs. 

You just rock your hips mindlessly while Jungkook alters between sucking on your clit and licking your slit. His tongue poking at your entrance. 

“Please, fuck.” You urge him to give you more. Jungkook apparently is an impatient lover. He can’t deny you nor can he control himself. His tongue enters you almost immediately. Fucking your quivering hole with his tongue. Coming up to make out with your clit. “Yes. Yes. Kookie, yes.” You choke out every now then. Lose your mind completely when his fingers replace his tongue soon. He waits for your permission like a good boy before he enters. But as soon as you just nod, he’s fingering you violently like it’s the last day on earth. As if you’re the last girl he’d ever get to finger. It takes a few experimental thrusts for Jungkook to find your sweet spot but he does rather quickly. 

“Tastes so sweet, pet. God, you taste so sweet. Want your cum, hm. Want to eat your cum.” Jungkook mumbles against your slippery core. Like a mad man. And he looks so beautiful. Covered in your slick and eyes peering at you. “Cum on my tongue baby, please.” Pleads for no reason. You just nod. Fingers pulling from his hair. Hips keep rocking against his face. And his fingers relentlessly stroking that spot. Making your high goes higher and higher. Until there’s no place to go and it explodes. Explodes with you moaning inhumanly and almost ripping Jungkook’s hair away. With you screaming his name and Jungkook nearly crying as he starts to ravish on your cunt. He keeps doing that till it starts to hurt you. Until you start to push his face away. 

He gives you one last sloppy lick. From your hole to your clit. Pulls his fingers out and cleans them as well. You just watch him in awe. Chest heaving. Expecting him to get to his feet and continue but he just lowers your legs. Smiles softly. “You okay?” Asks from you. You on the other hand are gaping at Jungkook like you’ve never seen him before. 

He doesn’t want to continue?

“Kookie, what are you? You’re not going to?” You question. Confused. Jungkook grins. In adoration. 

“No. It’s fine. Wanted you to feel good.” Stands up. 

Hell, no. What you did was wrong. So, wrong. But to think that Jungkook doesn’t even receive anything in return makes you feel nauseous. Like you’ve used him. No. You don’t want that. You stumble into your feet immediately. Get Jungkook by surprise when you kneel in front of him in such a hurry.

“No-noona?” He stutters. You bunch up your fists in his pants. 

“Sit down Jungkook. You’re not getting away that easily.”

“No. You don’t have to-”

“I know, I just want to. Please.” You bat your eyelashes. Places a kiss on his visible bulge. “I want to suck your cock Kookie. Want to taste you.” Jungkook curses aloud. “Fuck!” He has a weak self control, after all.

…………………..

Jungkook really believes that he’s about to die from the pleasure. That’s how good this feels. Your pretty lips are wrapped around his cock. Your teary eyes looking up at him. You, down on your knees for him. Worshipping his cock. Drooling and choking on his cock. His. It feels like a dream. 

“Fuck, Noona.” He uses your hair to push you further into his cock. Hitting your throat. You gag. Close your eyes. Jungkook nearly bust a nut right there. He has to look away from you to prevent that from happening. “Oh, baby fuck.” He moans aloud. You’ve given him the permission to fuck your throat. But still, Jungkook is afraid of hurting you. You look like you’re enjoying this to the fullest, though. You moan around his cock right at the clue. “Yeah? You like this, pet?” Jungkook asks. You nod around him in answer. Oh, how delectable you look. How pliable and the things he wants to do to you. Can’t afford to scare you away, however. Jungkook bites back his questionable thoughts away to buck his hips into your mouth.

You gag again which soon turns into another moan. You’re a complete mess. Mascara running down your cheeks and makeup ruined. And the thought that he’s the one who made you that way gets Jungkook drunk without alcohol. Tears roll down your cheeks uncontrollably just like your spit drool down his cock. Making it slippery and messy. Complete, utter mess. But the most beautiful mess he’s ever seen, undoubtedly. Jungkook pushes your head down and keeps you there for a second before letting you go. You swirl your tongue around his tip when you come up. Then you’re pushing his cock back again into your throat. 

“Oh, god you’re so good at this. You’re taking my cock so well baby. Keep going.” Jungkook lets you take the pace. Doing it in your own way and pleasuring him to a point of blacking out. Jungkook doesn’t want to think about anything beyond this moment. But for a fact, he knows that you’re currently ruining him for any other girl. He’d never be able to receive this kind of pleasure again. And just as he thinks this is the best and worst it can get you start shuffling. Jungkook watches in confusion when you adjust yourself in a way that you can straddle his leg. Your knees on either side of his leg and you lower yourself down. 

“Holy fuck no. God, Noona. I’m-” Jungkook fists your hair hard and violently starts to thrust into your mouth just as you start to rub your cunt on his leg. He’s definitely going to die today. Your moans reverberate through his entire body, starting from his throbbing cock. “You’re such a pretty slut Noona. So fucking beautiful.” Jungkook bends down to move your skirt away. So, your cunt can rub directly onto his leg over his pants. He wishes he could just remove that too. But is too greedy to take his cock out from the warm confines of your mouth. 

“Yeah, like that baby. Keep going. Rub your sweet cunt on my leg. Cum again for me.” So, he just encourages you while keep fucking your mouth. Over and over again. Using your pretty face he’s been dreaming of kissing for months. Letting himself fall into an endless pit of pleasure. His groans and your moans fill his otherwise quiet apartment together with your occasional gags and slurping sounds. Adding more fire to his desire. And just at the moment when your movements lose their rhythm and you come into a tense halt. Cumming all over his leg and crying out, Jungkook lost it too. He swears that he wanted to ask you if you wanted him to cum down your throat but it’s already too late. He shoots ropes after ropes of his cum into your throat. But you don’t seem to mind. 

“Oh fuck Noona. Take that, yes.” He keeps you that way until his high rides down. “Good  pet, yeah. Ahh.. You’re so good to me.” Until he has nothing to give you more. That’s when he lets you go. His softening cock slips from your mouth as you heave for air. Wipe your chin with the back of your hand. 

It takes Jungkook another minute to come into his senses. You are still on your knees and straddling his leg. He lowers his gaze to you. Takes in your ruined appearance. This time, though, instead of a new spark of fire, he feels a pang in his chest.

Holy fuck! What has he done?

Jungkook’s heart beat starts to slow down. Weight of his action weighs heavy down his shoulders. 

He just made you suck his cock. He made you do that when you were vulnerable and hurt. Angry and drunk. He let his primal instinct get over him and used you. Jungkook’s heart squeezes painfully. You make it worsen when you peer at him with innocent wide eyes. 

Oh, no.

Jungkook works in autopilot mode when he bends down. Pulls you into your feet and then into his lap. You straddle him immediately. Your eyes are glistening. He can’t really read your expression. But he thinks you look sad. Broken. Hurt. Guilty. Jungkook completely ignores the fact that you both are still very half naked when he crushes you with a tight hug. You hide your face in his neck. 

“I’m so sorry!”

You breathe out at the same time as he does. He freezes for a moment. Then it hits him. You’re apologizing for the same reason as he is. Even though you don’t have to. You never used him. It’s the other way around. But here you are. Jungkook presses you into his chest even tighter. Not being able to get enough of you. Not knowing how to fix anything.

“I’m so sorry, Noona.” He whispers in your ear when you hug him back with the same kind of fervour. 

“Me too Kookie. I’m so sorry.” You pull away to peer at his face. “This won’t change anything right? You’d stay the same. Don’t want to lo-lose y-uou.” Jungkook’s heart physically hurts  at the way your voice cracks. He hugs you back. Oh, how broken you look. Why would you ever think he’d change? 

“Of course no, Noona. Nothing’s changed. I’m just your Kookie you always knew.” Even his voice sounds distant to him. But he can feel you nodding into his neck.

“Thankyou.”

………………………

You feel sick. You’ve felt this way ever since your shenanigans with Jungkook. It’s not that you despise Jungkook or anything. Quite the opposite to tell the truth. It’s just the fact that you’ve crossed a boundary you shouldn’t have. The fact that you could’ve easily ruined everything. And then there is the guilt. Guilt toward Jungkook. When you used him as your stress releaser. No matter how many times Jungkook would tell you that’s not the case and he’s at fault, you can’t shake off the guilt. And the guilt toward Jimin. You know very well that, despite Jimin’s jealousy and his words, you hold no obligation to stay faithful to him. He’s getting engaged for fucks sake. But yet you can’t help but feel sick. Can’t wipe off his beautiful smile from your mind. And the way that smile would falter if he knew what happened. 

You feel like a cheap whore. 

Funny, since you’ve always done worse. With Jimin. But you can put everything aside. Yet not the feeling that you betrayed Jimin. 

You tried your best to make up your mind. To convince yourself that you’re not wrong and are allowed to do anything you want. It isn’t working, however. Not even after a day. You’ve had a very restless night after you went to sleep that night. After what happened with Jungkook. Then you had the worst day possible yesterday. Even got scolded from your favourite lecturer and of course, Chan. You were too caught up in your mind. Not being able to get rid of the guilty feeling, no matter how hard you try. And you’ve come to a decision last night. 

You have to come clean. 

You need to meet Jimin and tell him what happened. You know you don’t have to. That Jimin doesn’t deserve to know. But you need to do that. Otherwise these emotions would eat you up. 

Hence the reason why you’re not standing in front of Jungkook’s apartment right now. Instead, you’re standing in front of a once very familiar lavish apartment building. You don’t even know what you’re about to do. Hell, you don’t even have an idea whether Jimin is home or not. Or if Liya is there or not. All you know is that you want to come clean. You’ve just given into your impulse and had only sent a text to Jungkook saying you’d be late. 

Maybe you should check with Jimin. But something makes you hesitant.

So, you just walk inside the lobby. You don’t want permission. Know the password already. Have been here multiple times now. Yet it feels like your first time as you wait patiently inside the elevator. Are trembling like a leaf while you walk across the familiar hallway toward Jimin’s apartment. Your heart beats in your throat when you knock on his door. 

Maybe this is a mistake. You shouldn’t have come. 

Maybe you should turn-

You hold your breath when the door opens suddenly. You exhale that breath when you see it’s the exact person you wanted to see. 

Jimin.

He genuinely looks surprised. Eyes wide. And glinting. A small smile spreads across his lips as well. 

“Spring Roll?” 

He gaps softly. Yet beside his glinting eyes, he looks even worse than the last time you saw him. Lips dry and blackness under his eyes. Nose a little red and hair tousled. Is in his work attire- minus the coat, but doesn’t look like the handsome CEO that he is. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he’s sick. “This- uh-” He stutters a bit. Nervously. Almost like a boy meeting his crush for the first time. In another context you would’ve swoon to see that. Not now though. The nerves are eating you up to be able to feel any butterflies. The prospect of what to come next makes you sweat like a pig. 

Jimin, who’s very oblivious to your inner turmoil, opens the door wide for you. Still stuttering. “I'm a bit surprised. I mean you came- wait? You’re okay right? Nothing’s wrong?” Waits for you to answer. When you don’t he continues. Clasps his hands. “Listen baby, I know I’m always fucking up and all but I swear-”

“Jimin.” You stop his rambling. You don’t even know what he’s talking about. For a moment Jimin looks like he doesn’t want to listen to you. Looks like he’s about to plead and beg. Then probably at the sight of your paled face, he closes his mouth. Brows furrowing. 

“What? What happened, baby? You’re okay, right?” 

Oh, you feel like you’re about to faint. 

“I- I….” Now you’re here, you have no idea what you should say. 

Hi Jimin, Jungkook and I gave each other oral and now I feel like a slut. Just wanted to let you know. 

Oh, how stupid you are. Why did you ever decide to come here this way?

“What is it, Spring Roll? You’re fucking making me worried.” Jimin takes a firm step toward you. His face is stony and concerned.

Okay, okay you got this. Just rip the bandaid off.

“Jungkook and I.. uh- I mean we…” You trail off again. Not knowing what to say. “We- it just happened but- uh-” Try again. Fail. But then Jimin’s stony face falls for a split second. A realization dawns upon him as you watch. You stand there like an idiot, feeling nervous when his eyes darken dangerously. There’s no need to explain everything. Of course, he picked up the pieces and connected them. His expression morphs into something predatory.

“You did what?” Yet when Jimin questions, his voice is calm. Too calm for your likings. Icy rage. 

You shouldn’t have come. 

“I- we- it just happened-”

“What the fuck did you do, Lil. Did you fuck?” Jimin shoves his hands in his pockets. His calm exterior breaking down. Your knees buckle under his icy gaze. 

“No.. No..”

“Then what?”

You gulp harshly. Soothing your parched throat. This is fucking ridiculous. Why would you be so nervous talking to Jimin as if he’s your boyfriend. It’s not like you actually did something wrong. You should leave. 

“Nothing. I shouldn’t have come here.” You ramble. Almost ready to turn around and run away when Jimin grabs your forearm. It all happens so fast for you to comprehend. The way he drags you inside. The way he closed the door behind. The way you’re trapped between him and the door. 

“Well, you fucking did Spring Roll. And now you can’t just throw a bomb at me and walk away.” Jimin doesn’t touch you. Just keep you caged between the door and his body. “Tell me what the hell you did.” You just blankly stare at him. Previous nervousness you felt replacing with familiar anger. True that you came here to come clean and all but you don’t like the way he talks to you right now. And he makes it worse with his next words. “You wanted to do something to be even. Revenge. Because of what happened at Tae’s. Is that why? You wanted to make me jealous and you decided to go and fuck someone else?” Oh, your vision is turning red. “Guess what, princess, it’s fucking working. I’m burning from jealousy right now. I can kill that bastard. You. Win.”

“Oh, for fucks sake Jimin. Do I look like I want to do that?” You finally manage to talk back normally. Rage makes your nervousness disappear.

“Then what the fuck do you want? You came here to let me know after all?”

“So, you’d rather prefer I kept it a secret? Like you always do with everything. I fucking came because I feel oh so fucking guilty, Jimin. Like I’ve done something bad to you. I didn’t mean it to happen. I was mad, hurt, and fucking drunk. So was he. But I couldn’t shake off the guilt and I wanted to talk to you. Wan- wanted-” Your voice cracks making you stop rambling for a second. You breathe out before starting again. This time slowly. “Wanted to apologize. I’m not the one-”

That’s all you get to say when your words get muffled suddenly by Jimin’s lips. So sudden that you gasp loudly in surprise. He crushes his lips against yours without any warning. Starts to devour you right away. Takes advantage of the gasp you left out and enters his tongue inside your mouth immediately. Tangling with yours. Bites on your lips and sucks on your tongue. Hard. Swallows all your moans and squeezes your ass. You do what your instincts ask you to do. Wrap your hands around his neck and deepen the kiss. This is not how you should do this. But you can’t worry. There’s no use trying to fight it anymore. Jimin is your drug and you’ll always get addicted just with a simple touch. 

Jimin keeps kissing you until you’re both breathless and panting. Pulls away right when you both can’t do it anymore. 

“Fuck you, Lil.” He groans. Pants.

“Fuck you, too Park. You fucking ass-” 

He kisses you again. Doesn’t let you finish your insult. Unfortunate how you don’t try to push him away. Instead you’re bringing him even closer. Grinding against him. 

“You sure you want this?” Jimin withdraws just enough to ask you that. You nod without a beat. “Yeah? Cause, I’m gonna fucking ruin you, Lil. No one’s touching what’s mine. I told you that you’re mine.” Asks again. And his words make your blood liquid fire. You’re blazing. 

“I’m positive. Whatever you want.” You peck his lips. Jimin takes a minute and then nods. Withdraws completely just to grab your wrist. And is walking inside his apartment while dragging you with him. You just let him do what he wants. Excitement bubbles inside you. You can feel your heart beating in your ears and your core throbs in anticipation. You missed Jimin. 

Jimin stops in the middle of his living room. You take a quick glance around you. It looks the same. The couch. The coffee table. The book rack. And floor to ceiling windows. Leaking bright morning sunlight inside since the curtains are drawn open. You look at Jimin confusedly when he motions you to walk forward. Until you’re standing before one of the windows. You turn to look at him. Questioning with your eyes. Jimin holds both of your hands in his. Gently. A stark contrast to how sinister he looks. 

“We need a safe word.” Mutters. 

“Huh?” Your eyes widen. This is new. Jimin has always tried new things with you. Hell, he has made you cry during sex. And of course, was rough. But you never wanted a safe word. His words reverberated through your body. Making your clit throb. 

“A safe word Lil. I don’t want to do anything you don’t like.” 

You inhale a shaky breath. Take a minute. Then nod. “Yeah, fine. Um.. red.” State. It’s the first thing that comes to your mind. Can anyone blame you for not being damn creative when your panties are getting drenched and your clit is throbbing for any attention?

“Red, it is. Say the word and I’m gonna stop.” Jimin’s lips hover above you. You nod and wait patiently till he kisses you again. Only to be disappointed when he pulls away. Smirking.

Oh, this is going to be intense.

You watch in anticipation when Jimin takes a few steps back. You don’t dare to move or ask anything. Just clenching around nothing and rubbing your thighs together. An agonizingly slow beat passes in silence. You can hear your heart beat and the roar in your ears. Then Jimin just casually drops down into one of the arm chairs. Facing you directly. Relaxes. 

“Strip.” Then his lowered voice echoes through the apartment. Such a simple and clear command. No complexities or confusion. Yet, here you are gaping at him with an open mouth. 

What did he say? 

“Don’t make me repeat Lil. Fucking strip.” Jimin repeats calmly. 

Oh okay.

You turn around partially to look at the window behind you. You’re pretty high on the building. There’s not many other buildings reaching up to a similar height but there's one. Right across from Jimin’s apartment building. And you can clearly see inside the apartment on the same level. That means if someone is there and if they looked your way they would see you. A shiver ripples through your body. Jimin picks up on your hesitation. “Don’t care Lil. Just strip.” His dangerous rumble makes you turn your attention back to him. His predatory gaze is burning your skin.

You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. You know it. You even have a word now. Jimin’s not going to push you if you really don’t like something. But who are you kidding? You know that you won’t use the word. He knows that you won’t use it. You both know you’d just do as he says. And that’s exactly what you do. Doing as he demands. Getting rid of your clothes one by one. Until you’re bared down into your underwear. “Those too.” Jimin just casually coaches you. You relent. In a second, you’re standing completely naked in front of his eyes. Morning sun rays make your naked skin warm behind you. It’s warm but you’re trembling with excitement. Rubbing your thighs uncontrollably.

Jimin gaps. Groans. Bites down on his bottom lip. For a moment it looks like his control has slipped. Then he takes it back. 

“Tease your nipples.” Instructs. You bring your both hands hesitantly toward your already hardened pebbles. Start doing as he says. Twirling your fingers over them and pinching. “Fuck, you look beautiful slut. But you let someone else see that?” You want to tell him that’s not exactly what happened. And that he’s currently risking letting the same thing happen with a stranger. You don’t, however. Are too turned on to be able to talk, let alone argue. So, you just keep teasing your nipples. A moan slips through your mouth. 

“Squeeze your tits.” Jimin coaches again. You jump into action. Stop playing with your nipples and start massaging your soft mounds. Until Jimin finds it’s enough. 

“That’s enough. Touch your clit, baby.” 

You comply with his demands rather fast. Feel a little bit mortified. The whole situation is embarrassing. The window. The fact that Jimin is still very much clothed and you’re stark naked. The fact that you’re putting on a show for him. All of that is embarrassing. Humiliating. But also arousing. Your slickness is dripping down your thighs. And the moment your fingertips touch your bundle of nerves, your legs almost give up. 

“Jimin.” You whimper as you start to rub figure eights on your throbbing clit.

“Ugh, fuck.” Jimin groans. Stars rubbing his bulge over his pants. “You like this, slut? Like being put on display?” You just nod. Frantically picking up the speed you’re working on yourself. Bringing yourself embarrassingly close to an orgasm. This turns you on into no end that your head is spinning. Just few more flicks and-

“Stop.” Jimin grunts. You slow down your fingers reluctantly. Whining and whimpering. Stop your movements altogether. Jimin lets a few seconds pass. “Again. Touch again.” Demands again. The fire inside you swallows you whole. It’s becoming a struggle to stay on your feets. Yet you relent and start rubbing again. Starting slow and doubling up your efforts. Making the coil inside your stomach tightens again. 

“Stop.” 

You bend down to stop yourself from cumming as you stop your movements. Tears start to prick your eyes. Another minute. Another command. “Again.” Your fingers move around your clit again. “And keep your eyes on me.” He adds. You comply with him, yet again. Rub your clit slowly as you watch the way Jimin rubs his cock over his pants. 

Oh, this is so good.

“Stop.” 

You do. 

“Start again, Lil.” 

You do. 

“How are you feeling princess, good? Is your clit throbbing? Yeah? You wanna cum?” Taunting and teasing. 

“Wanna cum Jimin, please.” And you're begging. Tears are finally starting to roll down your cheeks. 

“No. Stop.”

“Oh, please.”

“Fucking stop you little whore.”

So, you do it again. And then it goes on and on. Over and over. An endless circle of torture. Until your legs really give up and your knees almost hit the floor. That’s only when Jimin finally stops it. Finally gets to his feet and walks to you leisurely. While you struggle to be on your feet and keep your eyes away from his bulge. Trying so hard not to salivate at the sight. 

Jimin cups your heated cheeks. Brings his mouth closer to your ear. “You good, baby?” Whispers making tingles run across your whole body. You know he’s asking for real. Genuinely want to know if you’re okay. 

“Yes.” You exhale. Clutching his dress shirt desperately. “Please.” Begs. You feel like dying from the throbbing pain between your legs. You just need something. You’re aching for a little touch from him. And so you’re positive that you’ll come undone the second he touches you. He doesn’t, however. At least doesn’t touch you where you want him to. Just turns you around you by your shoulders. Guides you toward the window. Pushes your body into it, making your hard and perky nipples grazing the window. You bring your hands to place on the not so cold glass on instinct. Balancing yourself. Your back is arching and searching for any kind of friction.  

Jimin’s lips hover again in your ear. “What do you want, princess? Use your words.” Teases. You shudder. But you’ve played this game enough times before to know that Jimin won’t give you anything unless you ask him to. And after all those times you’re not so shy anymore.  “You. Need you Jimin. Please, I need you.” You cry out. Desperately. Like the needy slut you are right now. Jimin only chuckles, though. Low. So low that you moan at the sound. 

“Yeah? Now you want me? I thought you didn't, baby.”

“Oh, Jimin please.” This time you cry out in impatience. He’s being difficult. Childish. “Am I wrong? You have people to please you. Why would you need me? Thought you have Jungkook now.” Almost pulls away when you finally snap. 

“I didn’t- fuck- it was a damn mistake and I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it to happen.” You turn your head to look at him. He pulls away, anyway. You miss his warmth right away. 

“Well, I don’t think you’re sorry.” Jimin takes another step away from you. You’re losing your mind. 

“I am, I- oh god fuck Jimin. I’m sorry.” You barely get to finish that when his palm suddenly hits your core. A choked moan elicits from your parched throat. “Oh, god yes.” 

“Yeah? Are you sorry?” His palm hits your cunt again. You cry out  a ‘yes’. “Yeah?” Another time. Harder than before and you moan even louder. Pleasurable sting causing you to see stars. You will cum and embarrass yourself if he keeps doing that. But of course, he keeps doing that. “Then show me how sorry you are, slut.” Another slap. And you have no idea how to do as he says. Are about ask how when he gives you the answer soon. You swear that you didn’t even hear the sound of his belt unbuckling. Jimin enters you without any prior warning and catches you completely off guard. The cry you let out is inhuman. Due to pleasure. You’re slick enough that it doesn’t hurt. Just a tiny burn which subsides immediately. Jimin’s rock hard cock glides against your slick warm walls quite easily. 

“Holy fuck, so wet. You’re so fucking wet.” Jimin groans. “And so tight. Feels so good, slut. Do you know how good your cunt feels?” Finally touches you properly. Snakes his hands around your body to cup your breasts. Starts pounding into you without any further ado. No waiting, no adjustments. Opts on a bruising primal pace. “Show me you’re fucking sorry Lil. Take my cock like a good slut, hm?” Your body presses against the glass with his every animalistic thrust. Your loud moans and sobs fill the entire apartment. “You can’t expect me to just be all cool after you let someone else see this damn body, princess.” Pinches your nipples so hard. “You’re mine.” Fucks you even harder. “Told you always that you're mine.” Gives your neck a fleeting kiss. Then another. Soon it turns into a harsh suckings on your sensitive skin. Covering you with purple blossoms all over. 

Every thrust. Every kiss. Every nibble. Every bite. Every rub brings you closer to your release faster than a flash. Yet just as you’re about to fall over, Jimin stops. Of course, he does. You find yourself even incapable of protesting. So far gone inside your head. So drunk on Park Jimin. 

“On the couch, c’mon.” He commands, yet again. Pulls his hard cock out from you. You follow, yet again. Force your shaky legs to take you to the couch. Lay down with your legs spread apart. Watch with a hazy sight as Jimin at last gets rid of his clothes. Showing you his sculpted body. The kind of body that only he has. You wait impatiently till he joins you on the couch. Pumping his cock hard. This time he doesn’t waste any time. Just bends you in half and puts your legs over his shoulders before entering you again roughly. Then is pounding into your spasming hole again. Over and over. His dick head hitting all the right spots. 

“What should we do about this baby?” Jimin questions breathlessly in between his deep plunging. “About people not understating that you-fuck- you’re mine, hm?” Brings one hand to touch your neck. Drags his fingers over the purple marks he left there. 

“Jimin… oh god, I-I… please..” All you can do is pathetically moan. Jimin ignores whatever you’re trying to say. 

“You know, I’ve always covered you in hickies. And he always saw them, didn’t he? What is that? Fucker can’t pickup a sign? Can’t understand that you’re mine.” Jimin squeezes your cheeks. Presses a hard kiss into your pouting lip. Gives a hard thrust and stops moving. Making himself buried deep inside you. Grinds his hips making you wail. “What should we do baby? Tell me?” Straightens back and falls back into his hard pounding. So hard that the couch skids across the floor with a squeaking sound. You watch how hard his jaw is locked. How flushed his face is. How dark his eyes are. Your throat is turning sore at how loud you’re moaning. Jimin is killing you. In a good way. And you think this is the worst he can do. How wrong you are. 

“Should I get you fucking pregnant? Get you full and round of me so everyone-”

Jimin doesn’t get to finish his sentence. Just because you drown his voice with your screaming. Back arching and cumming right there at his words. Embarrassing. But you can’t care. Not when his words make you feel consumed by a heat that you can’t satiate. You don’t want to get pregnant. Of course, not. You’re still so young and there’s a lifetime ahead. You haven’t even thought about children. But the way his words make you feel should be illegal. It’s not possible to get this aroused right? Yet, here you are. Screaming his name and trembling. 

“Fucking hell, Lil. Oh god, woman you’re gonna fucking kill me.” Jimin slows down his hips a notch just to pick back up the speed and keep fucking you hard. Fucking you through your orgasm. Not even slowing down when it starts to hurt from the over sensitivity. “You want that? You want to fucking get pregnant? Want me to fuck a baby in to you?” Questions. You don’t answer. Completely because you can’t properly understand what he’s talking about. Then Jimin never appreciated your silence, did he? He takes his hand to your clit. Doesn’t stop his thrusts when suddenly pinches your clit hard. Hard enough for another unexpected orgasm to ripple through you. Making Jimin laugh and groan at the same time. “Shit! You little slut.” Mutters. Slaps your sensitive clit again. “Answer me baby? Do you like it?” Slaps your thigh this time while keep fucking you hard. “Either you gonna answer me or-”

“Yes, yes-” You don’t want to know what he’ll do. This is enough torture already. “I want it, Jimin. P-please…. W-want you to get me so full- ugh fuck- so full of you. I want it please.” You sob. Can feel Jimin twitch inside you. 

“Yes?” 

“Yes please. G-get me pregnant?”

“Hell yeah, so everyone would know you’re mine, right baby? Tell me who you belong to? Who’s fucking cunt is this?” 

“Yours. I’m yours.” 

Jimin groans. “Fuck, yes. Mine.” Leans forward again. Looks you dead in the eye. You watch in anticipation. Knowing he needs more. Something more. You have no idea what that is but you nod in agreement anyway. You trust him with all your might. Besides, you have a safe word you can use any time. “Open your mouth.” Jimin commands. His mouth is just mere millimeters apart from your lips. And like that you understand what he wants even before he says anything. You like it. Of course, you do. That’s the exact reason why you’re clenching around his hard cock like you’ve gone mad. You do as he says without any other questions. Too fucked up and too horny. Keep your mouth open and wait for his next step. Jimin takes another cautious look at your face. For any sign of discomfort. When he finds none, he does it. Spits into your mouth. 

You cry pathetically. Tears rolling down. Your cunt feels like it's on fire. “Swallow.” Jimin barks. You comply like a good pet. Make Jimin moans like a beautiful symphony. “Fuck, again. Lil again baby, open your mouth.” You do. He does it again. You can tell he’s close. Too close. Is losing the precision in his movements. Yet demands you do it again. “Again princess, one more time.” And that’s all it takes for you to fall apart for a third time. Just as he spits on your mouth again. 

And like a chain reaction, that’s all it takes for Jimin as well. He falls forward. Captures your lips in a searing kiss as he stills his hips. Cuming deep inside you. Making you cum again one more time. Nails digging into Jimin’s back and your legs locking him in place. Allowing him to shoot his cum into your womb. 

You wait there until you both can’t breathe. Kissing each other like it’s the last time you’ll get to kiss. Until your high calms down. That’s only when Jimin finally withdraws from you. Eyes frantically going over your tired and spent features. 

You close your eyes. Feeling your head spin. Feeling hard to breathe. Your ears still roar and your heart beats a mile a minute. Cunt still on fire and throbbing painfully. You bring your forearm to cover your face. Allowing yourself to fall into exhaustion. Basking in the euphoric sensation. Finding solace in the darkness enveloping you. Peaceful, blissful dark-

“Lil? Holy fuck, baby. Hey? Are you with me?” 

You open your eyes at the sensation of Jimin’s hands cradling your cheeks. Oh, so soft and gentle. His voice sounds like it's coming from another dimension. You catch the sight of his worried expression. 

“Huh?” You mumble weakly. 

“Are you okay, love? Did I- did I hurt you?” 

Your heart flutters violently. The rest of his question doesn’t reach you. Your ears stop listening after the word ‘love’. 

Oh no… he didn’t.

You feel like crying. But that doesn’t mean anything. Of course,not. He’s just concerned and is a sweet person. That’s it. That doesn’t mean anything. You shouldn’t get ahead of yourself. So, you just shake your head to tell him that he didn’t hurt you. 

“I- I’m fine. Jimin- I- I’m so sorry-” He doesn’t let you finish. Pulls your weak and spent body into his arms immediately. Starts pressing tender kisses into your hair as you hide your face in his neck. Inhaling his familiar smell. 

“Hey, I know. I know, baby. I know you didn’t mean it and it’s okay. Sorry I was a jealous jerk. But it’s okay, alright?” Pulls away to look at your face. You gape at him. 

Really?

“You won’t mind?” Ask timidly. 

“Course I do mind. Hell, lady.. next time I’m gonna murder that bastard if he so much as lays a finger on you. You’re mine. I just- uh- I know it’s a mistake. I know you didn’t mean and I just wanted to claim back what’s mine.” Presses a soft kiss to your lips. You feel relief wash over you. Finally feels relaxed. All the weight on your chest evaporating. Oh, how Jimin has become your solace. Your safe place. You smile into his kiss. 

“Thank You.”

“No, thank you for coming here. Thankyou for not just asking me to fuck off after everything. Thank you for letting me know.”

You pull away. Fall back onto the couch. This is the time. You need to get this done.

“Well, you promised me an explanation, Park.” Jimin chuckles. Starts fumbling around. Lays down next to you. Manhandling you on top of him. Holds you tight. 

“You got it. Sorry I couldn’t make it earlier. Had to make sure Liya’s father doesn’t lose his shit after seeing that video.” 

………………………..

You have no idea how long it has been since you’ve been just cuddling on a couch and listening to Jimin’s story. Naked. About how Mr. Kim has a partial ownership of the company as the biggest shareholder. How four of them- even with combining all their shares- don’t have enough to fight him. Now you understand why they call Liya’s father mighty Kim. And how Jimin can’t risk him pulling out from the company which will create a destabilising power. How he would lose his damn position and the company- the dream- he and his friends worked so hard for. 

You don’t know how hard boys worked for the company.

All of a sudden, Liya’s words make so much sense to you. 

And Jimin told you about the upcoming launch. The fact that Kim is the main sponsor. And everything falls back into one position. If he breaks up with Liya, she’d take revenge. Mr Kim would just say bye to RUN and sell or transfer his shares to an external party. If that happens Jimin is fucked up. 

“And you can’t do anything about it?” You snuggle against his chest. It’s just not a question but also a statement. 

“Not unless we find a way to get him to sell his shares to us before anything happens. Or we find another sponsor who can fund us. That’s not easy. Especially with the fact that Kim rules this world. No one would ever want to be on his bad side.” Jimin rakes his fingers through your hair softly. 

“So, what’s your plan then? You said you need time.”

“Do one of those things. I’m on the hunt for a new sponsor. And I’m looking for a way to get him to sell his shares without offending him. Or any other loophole I can find to use against him. Everyone has their dirty shits. I should’ve already maintained an account for him. With all the blackmail materials. I was just stupid that I didn’t do that. Now I have to dig from the surface till I reach deep enough.” 

You understand it. Makes you wonder why he hadn’t told you earlier. 

“Why didn’t you want to tell me earlier?” You question in genuine confusion. Raise your head to find him turning red. He groans.

“I was embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed of what?”

“Of you finding out that I’m such a loser.”

“What?” You almost get away from him completely in disbelief when he pulls you back on to him. So, you just opt to keep your head up and stare at him. 

“Oh c’mon, Lil, you look at me like I'm some kind of God. A man who has everything. Someone who accomplished every goal. I mean you have a nasty mouth and you’ll always talk me down but I see the way you look at me.” Jimin sighs heavily. You feel your heart swell. You didn’t know that mattered to him. “You know even though I kind of have everything, I just can’t shake off the fucking feeling that I don’t deserve it. That I.. uh.. Got it with the help of someone-”

“Help of someone?” You interrupt him. Jimin nods. 

“Yeah. I-um- this makes it fucking worse, like when we started we really didn’t have the budget to start developing a game. Just four boys fresh out of college. Just dreams and ideas. We had the talent, knowledge and all but not the money. We could’ve made it either way. Starting slow and making it from scratch but I had Liya. The queen bee. Daughter of the Kim and she didn’t want to date a man struggling to build something up.” He laughs softly. 

“Besides, why would we bother when she can help us? It was nothing on her part. At first I didn’t want to do that but it sounded too compelling- tempting. All I wanted was to start something. For my idea to be out in the world and eventually I accepted. I built my empire with Kim’s money.” Jimin holds you so tight against him. As if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if not. “I didn’t want you to see me as that person. You made me feel like that I’ve actually made it by myself and that I deserve it. I know it’s stupid but I liked the way you treated me. So,” He touches your cheek. “Do you think I’m a loser? I’m an asshole and we both know it but I didn’t want to use Liya. But that’s what’s apparently happened, so, do you wish you never had started anything with me?”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You would really hit him if he doesn’t have such a tight grip on you. 

“Really, Park?” You raise a brow. “That- that’s, oh gosh no. Why would you even think that way? It really is such a stupid reason.” You sigh heavily. Softening at his expression. “You didn’t use anyone Jimin. She’s the one offered. And you were already dating her. Not the other way around. You saw the opportunity and you took it. And it was just money they offered. Rest was on you. I’d always see you as the same way Mr. CEO. You’re a man who accomplished a lot on your own and you deserve it all. I can’t believe I’m saying this but I admire you a lot.” You hide your face instantly. “Now if you ever bring it out again… I’ll just-”

Jimin’s laugh cut you off. “Okay. But are you serious like, you don’t think that-”

“No, Park. Stop it.” You raise your head back again to kiss him shut. Pull away. “Why the sudden engagement, tho?” Not that you want to ruin the mood but you have to ask. 

“The video. We got rid of everything before it reaches the public but there are some higher profiles who've seen it. Not that anyone recognizes you but they’re questioning. And there were some people in the club that day, kids of those rich assholes. People are apparently talking and it’s not good on anyone’s reputation. Especially Kim's. I don’t know if you know this but Liya is not his blood-”

“I do. I just happened to know.”

“Okay. So, he’s doing his utmost best to keep everything under the carpet and to keep his image spotless. He doesn’t want any rumors around his daughter. The sole heir to the Kim’s group. If one thing comes to the surface, it’s only a matter of time until everything does. If anyone ever finds out that shit, that’s not going to go well with his businesses. So, he wants the rumors to stop fast. And they think an engagement would solve the problem before it gets bigger.”

You feel a clench in your heart. Yet just nod. Jimin’s the one who kisses you this time. “I’m not doing that. I’ll come up with something. I mean I don’t know what yet but I’ll not get engaged to Liya. This is not the eighteenth century and they can’t force things on me.”

“But what if they threatened to pull out?”

“They won’t. I’m really not going to use the fact that Liya is not his real daughter. That’s such a low blow. Liya and I- we have history and they’ve helped me somehow. But still I’m gonna use that to make the engagement delayed if needed. I know that’s such a shitty thing to do but I refuse to become a puppet.” 

“Okay. This is so fucked up, but thank you for telling me. It feels good to be in the light.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t think I’m such a shitty person?”

“Well, you’re an asshole but not shitty. When I say you’re an asshole, I say it affectionately. But Jimin,” He hums in question. “What does Liya get from all this? Is she just worried about the reputation? Like can it cause that much harm? If you broke up with her?”

“It can. People can be nasty. Especially when it comes to famous people. They will take any opportunity to drag someone down.”

“So, it isn’t because she loves you.” 

Jimin scoffs at that. “No. Hell, no. Maybe she loved me back then but not anymore. I don’t even know why she chose me. The college fuck boy. I was a mess and a disaster. I was the trouble but I pulled the queen. I don’t know why she dated me. I loved her, though.” You have to look away to hide the way it makes a tiny pang in your chest. 

“What happened then?” Yet ask nonetheless. 

“I don’t know. All I know is that we’re no longer in love and just trying to use each other. I want to stop that. She doesn’t.”

It makes sense. They are in a convenient relationship. Which is messy and complicated. And you understand Jimin completely. So, you just nod at his next question. Agree completely. 

“So, just give me time, hm? I know it’s hard but uh.. Just a little time. That’s all I want and I promise the moment I figure this shit out, we’re gonna find a way to keep you in my life.”

You don’t question why he wants that. You know that you want to keep going because you like him. Maybe more than that. You’re so whipped. But what’s his reasons? And you don’t think about all the complications that would come up and the things you’d have to sacrifice, if you chose to keep living this way. Or if you decide to stay in this world. If it’s even possible. You’ll have to solve one problem at a time, after all. 

You’ll not question for now.

………………………….

Jimin ends his call with Hoseok right at the moment you enter the study. After showering together he had left you to dry your hair to take care of the hundreds of missed calls he’d received for the past few hours. Hoseok’s was about an art exhibition. A fundraiser. Hoseok wants all of them to attend since it’s the perfect opportunity for networking. They might even be able to land a new deal for a new sponsor. Who knows? And the event is apparently happening in the gallery where Namjoon’s girlfriend works. Even though Jimin doesn’t want to see them right now, he’s no fool to turn down the opportunities. 

“Hey.” You softly mumble as you walk toward him. Just in one of his hoodies and nothing else. You look content. And he loves to see you content. 

“Hey!” Jimin mumbles back to you. Spreads his arms so you can fall right between them. You do. Like you’ve come home. “Everything okay?” Ask him in such an adorable voice that Jimin’s heart does skip a beat, literally. 

“Yep. Hobi is making us attend a fundraiser.” Jimin answers your question. You withdraw from him, nodding in understanding. Don’t ask any more questions as you just drag your eyes across the study. Stop on one of his opened drawers. Jimin follows your vision. His own gaze dropping inside the drawer. Finding out exactly what catches your attention. And it’s too late when he notices that and jumps into action. You let out a shriek before you successfully grab the picture.

“Holy shit!” You exclaim. Amused. While Jimin feels mortified. It’s a picture of him and Taehyung. Back from the college days. First year. Just barely eighteen. He has no idea what the fuck they were doing, dressed up like two lunatics. It was taken during a party for sure. And they both look extremely stupid. 

“Give that back.” Jimin states calmly. You don’t give a fuck after all. Just turn around facing your back to him. 

“How old were you?” You question. Inspecting the picture. Jimin rounds you to look at your glinting eyes. “Doesn’t matter. Oh God, that’s so embarrassing. Give it back, Spring Roll.” 

You ignore him. Just coo at the picture. “You look tiny.”

“No I do not. I had the same body back then. Girls were dying for my abs.”

“Did they? What about your eyeliner, tho?” You quirk brow in challenge. Know what you’re doing. Jimin groans. You giggle prettily. “And it’s blue.” Add as if he doesn’t know it. “Why the hell are you wearing a blue eye liner in here, Park.” 

“C'mere you little gremlin.” Jimin stretches his arm to catch you which you dodge skilfully. Take a few steps back. Jimin doesn’t give up, however. He lunges forward again. You yelp as you try to run away from him. This time you fail. Jimin catches you successfully but you hide the picture behind you. Keep it hidden even when he picks you up and puts you on the table. “Oh c’mon, give it back you idiot. Why would you even need that?” So, he whines. You press your lips into the tip of his nose. There goes his heart skipping beats again. He feels warm. Inside, out. 

“Because you’re so adorable in that. Can I keep it?”

“Why?”

“Just so I can keep it.” You pout. Puppy eyes. Jimin is becoming weak. Oh, he is weak. “Will you promise me not to show it to anyone?” He’d give up eventually anyway. No use of fighting and dragging this up. You nod excitedly. Look so damn beautiful. “Okay, deal. But I need something in return too.” Jimin adds causing your face to fall. He’s a businessman after all. He’s good at deals. 

“What?”

“Let’s keep that spot empty. I’ll come up with something creative in the future.” You grumble but agree anyway. Jimin just smiles and captures your lips in his. He just wants to be close. Every way possible. Can’t help but touch you. You taste good. You feel good. Drives him mad. You pull away first. A soft smile on your lips. 

“Okay, what are you getting at? Haven’t you had enough?”

“What are you talking about?” Jimin feigns ignorance causing you to palm his hardened length through his sweats. A low groan erupts from his throat. 

“I’m talking about this.” You squeeze him. Well, he can’t help it. Can’t have enough. His hips buck into your touches involuntarily. 

“Well, you wanted to get pregnant.” Jimin teases you, reveling in the way you audibly whimper. Just for a second, though. You compose yourself rather fast for his liking. 

“Stop getting obsessed, Park.” You gasp. Tease. Wait till he denies. But then Jimin doesn’t want to deny it. So, he just spreads your legs rough. Finding your bare core already glistening with arousal. You’re the one to talk. He doesn’t point it out, though. Just kisses you again. Pulls away to whisper against your lips. 

“Too late, Spring Roll. I’m already obsessed.” 

Oh, how he loves the way you gasp. The way your breath hitch. And he means his words. Because that’s what he is. Obsessed. With you. Utterly deeply madly obsessed with you. 

“Are you too sore, baby? Can you take me again?” He asks cautiously. You just nod, like he knew you would. 

“Just go slow.” You spread your legs even wider.

“Of course, love.”

Such a shame that he’s focusing on your cunt. 

Such a shame how he doesn’t notice the way you look at him. 

…………………………..

Finally, after weeks of torment, life feels good again. With Jimin. With Jungkook. With your friends in both worlds. You feel relaxed after knowing what makes Jimin, Jimin. You feel valued and important after knowing Jimin trusted you enough to let you in. Sure, there's still no answers to his problems. He’s still a taken man and you're still being the bitch of your own story. Fucking a man in a relationship, despite everything that happened to you. But then, you think there’s hope now. Not that Jimin’s story justifies all your actions. Yet you can hope for a moment that you’d get to do it the right way. 

Even when you don’t get to see Jimin often now, life still feels good. You won’t go back to work at RUN again. No. The biggest favor you can do everyone is keeping your distance. Still, you find solace in his little texts. That’s enough. You’ll find a solution to everything soon. You trust Jimin. 

Then there’s Jungkook. Being the Jungkook you always knew. You’re oh so relieved when he agreed to let what happened slip. Agreed that it happened because both of you were emotional and drunk. He still won't side with Jimin. Never. But he’d be on your side. Forever. His own words. Then you had convinced Key to go on that date with Chan. Everything is going pretty fine. You’re in such a good mood that you’ve been waltzing instead of walking for the past few days. 

Everything is good. You don’t think anything would be able to ruin your good mood at all. Even when you find yourself at the fundraiser Jimin told you about a few days ago. Even when you know Jimin would probably attend this with Liya. You think you’ll be able to handle it. Knowing his story, you know it’s just a pretense. Of course, you can handle it. 

See, life is thriving. You’re back into going to these kinds of special events which a college girl has no business being in. It just happened because of Yoona apparently. It's the gallery she works at. And they are apparently allowed to bring in guests. More guests mean more funds. Yet you know, you’re not the kind of guests they want here. But who’d care in the end. You and Jungkook are here on the extended invitation by Yoona. J is here as the date of Jin. You’re all here to have a good time. Even though you can’t find Jungkook anywhere in your sight at this moment. 

You’re standing at a corner table with Taehyung. All glammed up. Feeling nervous since you’re not used to visiting such events. 

“You know who that is?” Taehyung asks you, pointing at an old man casually talking with Hoseok. You shake your head. “That’s the minister of culture.” He states. You gasp. 

“Yah! Really? Please remind me what the fuck I’m doing here again?”

“Same thing as me honey. Just wasting your time.”

You chuckle at his comment. You spend a lot more time with Taehyung these days. He comes over to Jungkook’s quite often. Saying you’re surprised would be an understatement. Jungkook’s sudden change of behaviour toward Taehyung makes you more than surprised. 

“I thought this is an opportunity for you. Jimin mentioned something about a new sponsor or something.” You look around the hall. To search if the said guy is here. Apparently not yet. Taehyung just clicks his tongue. Retrieves two new champagne flutes from a passerby server. Hands you over one. 

“I’m bad at that. I always get distracted by women.” He sips from his drink before continuing. You scrunch up your nose at that. “That’s why we have Jin and Hobi. Look at them, doing a god damn great job.” Gestures at the said people. You catch J walking toward you at the same time. Pouting. 

“Boring. This shit is boring as hell man.” She whines just as she reaches your table. Steal your champagne flute. You decide not to say anything. 

“Tell us about it. I just want to go home and watch a movie.” Taehyung agrees with his whole heart. You ignore him when you turn to J.

“Where’s Kookie?”

She shrugs. “No idea. I think he’s annoying Yoongi. He really wants to be Yoongi’s editor, you know?” You chuckle at the mental image of Jungkook pestering an annoyed Yoongi. 

“Maybe I should give up this job and start a vlog. What do you, pretty women, think?” Taehyung butts in.

“We think you’d make the perfect cam boy.” J states with a straight face. Nods in confirmation. Now you don’t know what she expects Taehyung’s reaction would be. But you expect it fully when he beams. Excited. A little too much.

“Exactly. I knew I would be. Jimin didn’t let me pursue my dream job.”

“Yah! Seriously?” J quips exasperatedly. 

“Yeah…” Taehyung sighs heavily. “It’s so fucking unfair isn’t it? Everyone should have the right to pursue their dreams.” Sips from his drink again. J gives Taehyung a look that is torn between annoyance and amusement. You don’t think that’s what she asked by ‘seriously’. You snort very unpleasantly at her expression when Taehyung continues. “But if I have been a cam boy, you two ladies would be my biggest fans,” He lets out a dreamy sigh. You and J both roll your eyes. “And of course you’ll pay me tons of money. And I’ll do my best to satisfy you both.” 

“We won’t pay you shit Taehyung. That’s a lot of over-fucking-condifident there. Why would you be so sure about that? Like do you have a monster cock or something?” J scoffs. Wrong move. Taehyung is the last person you should talk about cocks with. Too late, however. He smirks cockily. Wiggles his eyebrows playfully.

“I don’t know, do I? Maybe… Wanna see?” 

You fake gag when J clicks her tongue. “No thanks, no monster cock would be able to compete with Jin’s.” J looks away from Taehyung to Jin. You think she’s fascinating to be able to just not give a fuck about what anyone thinks. She’s so bold to admit that she likes Jin. Even though Jin doesn’t do the same. She’s obviously so smitten for the man and does nothing to hide it. 

Taehyung takes great offense in that, it seems. “Yah! That’s so not true.”

“It is true.” 

“Wanna bet?”

“Hell yes. How much?” 

You look back and forth between your two friends. A headache is starting to form. You think Taehyung learnt to put bets on everything from Jungkook. He says something about 20 000 Won. And J agrees. You feel mortified. 

“Gosh guys, will you stop?” You bow in apology to an old man who just walks past you. 

“No. She insulted my precious item and I need justice.”

“Eww don’t call it a precious item.” J counters.

“Why not? It is precious. Now I’m about to show you and prove you wrong.”

“Fucking stop, you guys.” You slap Taehyung’s hand which he just puts on his belt buckle. “Nobody wants to see your fucking dick, Tae.” You hiss. 

“No. No, let him Li. This is my chance to earn an easy 20 000.”

“Oh my god J, don’t fucking encourage him. He’ll do it for real.” You groan in annoyance and mild horror. Knowing Taehyung, you’re eighty percent positive that he’d do that. Taehyung chuckles. Says something about how good you know him when you suddenly catch a flash of blond in the corner of your eye. You stop trying to keep Taehyung’s hands away from his pants to turn around and find the man you wanted to see. 

Park Jimin.

In his iconic black suit. That damn earring back on one of his ears and smiling widely. Bowing to someone older. You feel your lips spread into a huge grin at his sight. He makes small talk with a few people before his eyes scan the room. Land on your corner table. A similar kind of a grin spreading across his own face. And oh, he’s alone. There’s no woman tangled up in his side. You scan the room quickly to find the said woman. Feel giddy when you’re unable to spot her anywhere. Jimin bows to the man he’s talking to and starts stepping toward your table. Almost waves to you when a sudden voice behind you interrupts. 

You think you saw Jimin’s smile suddenly drop and his face darken just before you turn around to see who’s the owner of the voice. 

“There you are, Honey. I was looking for you everywhere. That author is here- Owen someone and I want you to meet him. C’mon.”

You’re met with a middle aged woman. Her words don’t exactly register with you but you take her appearance in one go. And you freeze. 

“Mom?” You whisper in confusion. 

Mother.

This is your mother. The woman who gave birth to you. But looks far younger. All glammed up and in a black dress. Eyes bright. Not a single grey hair on the sight. Skin glowing. 

This is your mother. 

But something’s odd. 

“Yes. Let’s go Liya, before your father can find him.” She mumbles. 

And it hits you like a flash of lightning. You’re not in your world. Your mother can’t be here. This is not your mother. 

Liya. 

A painful pang erupts in your chest. Shoots across your body. Not unbearable but it’s definitely there. 

This is Liya’s mother and she just mistook you for her child. You open your mouth stupidly but before you can say anything Taehyung steps in.

“Hey, this is ridiculous. I mean it's one thing when other people can’t tell them apart but their own mother? That’s such a rude thing to do to your own daughter Mrs. Kim.” 

You turn your head slowly toward Taehyung. Feeling like your body is growing weaker by every passing second. Taehyung is scowling at Liya’s mother. Displeasure evident in his features. 

“What?” The older woman scowls deeper than Taehyung. “What are you talking about Taehyung? I have no time for your stupid jokes. C’mon LIya. This is your opportunity. She grabs from your wrist. And the pain intensifies when she calls you Liya, yet again. You feel nauseous. So close to bend down from pain. 

“Really? How come a mother can’t recognize her own children apart?” Taehyung doesn’t let her off the hook that easily. 

Oh, gosh, this is turning into a nightmare for you. The pain is becoming unbearable. Your sight is turning blurr. You’re trying so bad not to clutch your chest. Liya’s mother gives Taehyung an odd look. This is not good. 

“What on the earth are you talking about? What children?” She questions. Visibly irritated.

“Your children. How can you not identify your own daughters apart?” 

Oh, you want to throw up. How are you ever going to explain this to Taehyung and J. 

“What daughters Taehyung? Are you drunk this early into the event?” Liya’s mother clicks her tongue in disapproval. “That’s such a lowly-” The rest of her words drowns by a loud ring in your ears. Pain in your chest doubles up unbearably. You almost give up and bend down in pain when you feel a pair of hands wrap around you. Then you hear the familiar soothing voice. Like it’s from a dream.

“Hi Mrs. Kim.”

“Oh Jimin-ah, good thing you’re here. Your friend is drunk.”

“I-I’m not drunk.” Taehyung protests but no one pays him any mind.

“Yeah? Ah- I’ll take care of him later. I’ll just need my girlfriend for a minute.” You feel Jimin slowly pulling you into him. Tears are starting to prick your eyes. It hurts. Oh, it hurts. 

“No. No. There’s this author she needs to meet. Right Liya?” She turns her attention to you again. And freeze. Probably taking in your appearance. 

“Why do you keep calling her, Liya?” That’s a female voice. You guess it’s J. Liya’s mother ignores her completely. 

“Oh my god, are you alright, honey? You’re pale.” Instead she cups your face immediately. And everyone breaks into a sudden chaos. 

“Of fuck! Are you okay, Li?”

“What’s happening?”

“It’s just like that day at Jungkook’s?”

“We need to call an ambulance.”

“Oh my god, oh my god. Liya, talk to me honey. What’s happening? Where does it hurt?”

You don’t know who’s saying what. Every time the name ‘Liya’ slips through her mothers lips you feel like you’re a step closer to your death. You give up trying to hide your pain. Should’ve fallen down onto the floor if it wasn’t for the tight grip Jimin is having around you.

“No. Guys she’s fine. Just let me take her somewhere private.” Jimin tries in vain to take you away from the three concerned people. But then you hear a new unfamiliar voice too. 

“Oh, hi Liya!”

It’s turning dark.

“This is my fiance. This is Kim Liya honey… wait are you okay?”

That’s all you hear. Everything goes black. You fall into Jimin’s hands. Everything goes into a pitch black stillness. Yet then you swear you saw a mop of silver hair. And a pair of lifeless eyes. So, you know you heard someone mumbling against your ear. 

“You should've heed my warning, little thing. You just put yourself in this misery and you know what’s going to happen…”

It’s just darkness. Painful darkness. 

“You’re about to turn into ashes and….”

Jimin, you need Jimin. 

“This is it…”

All you need is Jimin. 

“The beginning of the END.” 

..............................................................................................................................

a/n- Leave a note if you enjoyed this one!

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Taglist - @chimmy-licious @graydolan12 @smoljimjim @likemeforme @sugas-baby-girl @canarystwin @jkayy @floboo6 @sunshinenmidnight @fiddlebiddls @unlikelycheesecakeenthusiast @mar-lo-pap @angelicsmilesworld @jimincrystal @datspjm @shakes0peare @butterymin @angellekookie @futuristicenemychaos @minijagiya @anumita-2007 @joulekanitz @llallaaa @fancypeacepersona @annyeongbitch7

[beatrixst0nehill]

"Well.... this is me at 18, the summer before college, vs me three years into my Master's program. College has been a lot of fun but it's taken its toll on my body so fast! Not that it stops lots of guys from fucking me. Sure they used to call me sexy and hot, and now they call me a hucow slut or a dumb pig, but they still fuck my brains out just as much, if not more since I've, um...... bulked up.

This is my fourth pregnancy, I'm about six months along and my belly is gigantic. Granted it's kinda always huge because of all the beer we drink at my sorority. Every single girl has a big round beer belly and it's like we're all competing to see who can grow the biggest gut before we graduate. I actually kind of like being so fat, feeling my ass and my thighs jiggle as I walk, my boobs slosh around, getting sweaty constantly. They used to be so small but after a couple pregnancies my body knew I was always meant to be a cow and ballooned my boobs from, like a DD, to these massive udders. 90% sure I couldn't even breastfeed a baby with these things without suffocating them, which means my body grew these things for guys to enjoy. Nothing more. I started out as barely a B-cup, thankfully all this overeating, chugging beer, and fucking bareback has reminded my body what a girl is really supposed to look like!

I never thought I'd be 21, weighing over 400lbs, having already pushed out fourteen kids (triplets, quintuplets, sextuplets, if you were curious!), and now I've got at least six in my belly again. I don't know if I have another three years of this in me, I feel like my heart is gonna pop any day now from getting so unhealthy and fat so fast. I'm putting so much strain on my body but I can't stop now, I'm having way too much fun. If I have a heart attack at 700lbs in a couple years, having pushed out over thirty kids, then I'd say I've served my purpose as a woman perfectly fine. Loads of guys got to enjoy my body, breed me, cum all over my tits, use my holes, and call me all kinds of demeaning names as I drank a twelve pack of beer every night and stuffed my face all day with my sorority sisters. Since we were all competing to see who can have the biggest, fattest, grossest body! Oops, already referring to myself in the past tense.

But it would be super hot if half of us croaked from being such big fat breeder slobs, wouldn't it? We sit around in the lounge, drinking, eating a stack of pizza, rubbing our pussies as we talk about this stuff, how hot it'd be if we got heart attacks before graduation or kicked the bucket pushing out octuplets. It happened last semester to our friend Reilly! She was pushing out ten kids and bam! She moaned and came as she pushed out baby seven, drooling and smiling, sweating like crazy, looking perfectly eager to push out the last three. But then she passed out! Gone, just like that. The school had to cart her sexy, preggo body off and open her up to get the last few kids out. I was soooo jealous it was the hottest thing we've ever seen! Hopefully most of us follow her example, guys even tease us on campus when our bellies get really big like mine is now and tell us they can't wait for us to wind up like Reilly...... fuck, I'm cumming so hard just thinking about it. I need to go to the Chinese buffet and drink so much beer I piss myself at the booth! Gotta not disappoint my sorority sisters and all the frat boys..... A girl's got to put on a show. ❤️"

[petermorwood]

Reblogging this one again after agreeing wholeheartedly last time with the impassioned video complaint about armour being represented as ineffective, which it most certainly wasn't (or why bother?)

Also, re. that comment about Game of Thrones showing Mormont's armour working properly in an early ep, and cliché not working in a later one. A show as casual about showing graphic violence could have shown how to defeat an opponent in full plate, though IIRC Mormont wore nothing as complete.

*****

Side-rant: It would have been hard to make out regardless - and still is, the clip's on Youtube - because it happened during that battle scene with the crap minimal light.

I still haven't forgotten what I think was the lighting cameraman responding to criticism of "Too dark to see anything" with "Your TVs Were Badly Tuned". Well, bub, my TV was just fine with the programmes before, the programmes after, and the other scenes in that very GoT episode. The ones that weren't incompetently lit...

*****

So how to discomfit a plate-armoured man? First, use weapons designed to attack the armour, not the man. Impact weapons like maces and warhammers work...

...because bones break, joints separate and brains concuss even without getting through the metal.

Or use polearms such as halberds, bills, etc., again, attacking the armour as much as the man, and at a longer, potentially safer distance.

Though don't bet on that, because a man in well-fitted plate is, after a lifetime of getting used to moving in it, scary fast - and a gauntlet-punch even with no weapon in it will spoil any number of days.

They were often fitted with knuckle-spikes called "gadlings" for that very purpose.

Finally, dog-pile him with several attackers (expect to lose a couple) so that at least one has a chance to use a dagger on unarmoured or weakly armoured places.

Raise the visor then go for eyes, face or throat (didn't someone get a dagger in the eye in another early GoT ep?) Reduce the graphic visuals by keeping the visor down with a blade shoved through one eye-slot, while the actor's response shows that this Was Not Fun.

Go between the legs at the groin (always good for a knee-clench and Oooh! from the male audience) or inner upper thighs, where opened femoral arteries will bleed out in a matter of minutes.

Go through the armpits - they're usually protected by mail, but full body weight behind the upper rondel of one of these...

...should get through, next stop trachea or lungs, aorta or heart.

NB - The ballpoint pen included for scale shows how big medieval daggers were, with many even bigger - which should also make it clear why nobody ate their dinner using one. They had proper small knives for that, also spoons, picks, eventually forks and always fingers (with napkins and finger-bowls to keep them clean).

*****

Why reblog so soon?

Well, it's an articulate bitching session about a stupidity which vexes me, also these tags (though not about armour) made me chuckle and need seen, because they too are oh so right.

#he's right

#what drives me the craziest is unstripped pens and showing people writing on paper and parchment as if it's cheap

#WHERE ARE ALL THE WAX TABLETS

#also incorrect storage of books (eg early medieval type setting but the books are upright in shelves--WRONGO)

#showing monks writing and no penknife to be seen

#incorrectly dressed monks and nuns

[sarnai4]

Roomies

Did the "random thought" bug bite me again? Always. Here's the result this time: The responsibilities each of the Olympians would have if they lived together in modern days.

Athena - She stocks up their personal library (think Beauty and the Beast, but times 1000). It's her job to make sure that the books are in proper order and all the best selections are here. Is this a real responsibility? Debatable. Did it exist before she suggested it? No, but at least the Olympians have everything from non-fiction to the best fantasies to read.

Ares - He's in charge of taking out the trash because he drew the short straw and putting up shelves because he wanted that one. It's fun for him to hammer in the nails. Now, the walls are covered in more shelves than they could ever need and the halls are filled with his mildly diabolical laughter as he hammers.

Demeter - She keeps the fridge and pantry filled. They have literally never been empty. Every time someone uses up one of the foods, it's replaced. The others are genuinely unsure how she does this and will randomly test it out, just to find that the food is in there again. They think she's particularly magical.

Zeus - He's in charge of the electricity. If they have a power outage, all eyes are on him. They don't ever need an electricity bill or to charge phones. They just put the phones on him when he's sleeping so that he won't snoop through their stuff (Yes, they have phone locks, but he can probably find a way to get past those).

Hermes - Sweep and vacuum duty. Everyone has to leave while he does this. He's flying around so fast that he'd give the healthiest immortal asthma with all the dust he kicks up. The nice part for him is that he can be done in a matter of seconds.

Hephaestus - He's in charge of building chairs anything the home needs. The computers, sofas, tables, TVs, etc. are all built by him. Oddly enough, they all buy their beds elsewhere. He's not sure why they don't trust him to build those too. It's not like he'd make it a trap or something :p.

Hera - She makes sure everyone has family dinner together. This might seem like an easy task, but it's probably the hardest. No one wants to do this. You have sets of siblings who will eat together and that is it. She will go so far as to lasso the younger immortals, dragging them to the dining room kicking and screaming. It's not pretty.

Poseidon - He cleans the bathrooms. He finds it sort of gross, but as soon as the others remembered that he could control water, that was a done deal. When he's in a bad mood, he purposely does it badly, then he gets glared at enough and fixes it. One day, he might learn to just do it right the 1st time.

Artemis - She's in charge of getting the animals to mount on the shelves. It's also not a responsibility anyone planned on her having, but she volunteered and ran off before they could stop her. They just deal with it now. They like it better when she brings back meat for them to eat.

Apollo - He makes sure that all the safety measures are taken care of. He's got the first aid kit FILLED. It's a little concerning. His siblings swear that he's waiting for them to get a limb ripped off. He also has fire extinguishers and everything else. They don't know if he's prepared because he wants to be or because he knows something they don't.

Hestia - She's the cook. Nobody could pull her away from the oven if they wanted and the food's great, so they don't want to. The home always smells like baked goods. The others love her so much because of this. She also lets them sneak and be taste testers whenever they like.

Hades - He pays the bills. He's filthy rich, so the others just sort of gave him pleading eyes and he caved. The poor guy barely even lives here, but he's still paying the mortgage, etc. (not electricity bill though!). The few times he comes to visit and check in, he wonders how the building is still standing.

Dionysus - Wine cellar duty. That and wet bar mixologist. He comes up with new drinks for the others and regularly sees how much they can handle before just being completely out of it. He finally got in enough trouble for doing this that he makes slightly less potent drinks now.

Aphrodite - Ambiance manager. She wasn't supposed to be a live-in girlfriend, but now she is and won't leave. The others don't mind, though. She puts out nice flowers, paints the walls, and makes sure the place looks beautiful.

(Let me know if you like the sound of this! If my upcoming Greek comedy book does well, I might release a continuation where there's a short story with this being a real thing.)

[loviejohnnydovie]

John Price x fem!Reader

Mdni

I know this has been said before but I need John to fuck me so good that I cry

He likes to fuck like this because it gives him a sense of control he has missed since he stopped working in the field and moved to a cushier job behind a desk and closer to retirement. He’s still fit, god is he fit, because working out is the only way to keep his mind occupied, at least until he’s at home with you.

He likes feeling in control over your body. Feeling the way that you trust him in your most vulnerable state. It makes his head rush and focus in the way it did on high stake missions. Only now it’s not life and death, it’s making his girl feel good. He knows you need it by the stress that rests on your shoulders and nestles its way into the space between your brows. It’s a ton of foreplay consisting of John doting and caring for you, in the way you deserve. He’s just so damn competent that it makes your head swirl.

Soon, he has you bent over, arms pulled behind your back, wrists held between one of his as he pounds himself into you over and over and over until you’re practically melting into the mattress. Once he has you nice and pliant, he slows his thrusts to reach around and pull your back against his chest, he can’t leave his girl in such a strenuous position for too long after all. His burly forearm spans your torso, right between your breasts, and his hand plants itself around your throat. Not quite squeezing, but still there, cradling your body against his. Your combined sweat clings to the hair on his chest as he gets back to work, fucking into you so hard and deep that all you can do it hold on to the arm wrapped around you and take it.

He talks you through it. About how good you're doing, how good you feel, how you can take everything he’s got and more, how he's so proud of you, how you can trust him and let go until finally the dam breaks free and you're shaking in his arms. The first time this happened, you felt embarrassed, but now you know he does this on purpose. He wants you crying on his cock so he can build you up and put you back together. Because he needs this just as much as you do.

You cry and he coos at you, all the while still fucking you through orgasm after orgasm. He comforts you, telling you to let it all out as you come for the nth time. Finally, he turns you around in his arms, your back finally meeting the plush mattress below. He holds you to his chest, letting you cry into his neck as he fucks one last orgasm out of you as you calm down. He kisses you despite the snot that is surely on your nose. He cups your face in his hands like you are the most precious thing on earth, because to him you are, and he gently wipes the tears from your cheeks as you both come down from your highs. He rasps out how well you did, how well you took him and what a good job you did opening up your body like that. Trusting him to take care of you and trusting yourself to let him. He holds you through it all, helps you drink some water to start replacing all the fluids you lost. It takes a while for both of you to come down from your emotional highs, but when you do it is pure comfort. He cleans both of you up without leaving your side, he prepares extensively when he plans on taking you apart like this, and he makes sure you feel cherished and loved. John always takes good care of his girl, especially if he has to fuck her so hard she cries.