#because of all that instant ramen he inhales

[bittybeanie]

Finally an account that does mob psycho! I appreciate your service! Could you write a scenario about going to the mall with Serizawa? Just looking at the cute stores, buying Seri some new clothes, maybe reader is looking for a fancy dress, maybe they stop by a lingerie store idk 👀 anything would be lovely!

happy to be of service!! this was such a cute idea i couldn't decide what angle i wanted to take, so here are two lil connected snippets! basically, you're both trying to find fancy clothes to wear to an event together- please enjoy!

also on ao3!

(update: this fic has art by the incredible @butterysalt! newly featured in the header, you can find just the art on their page here! go show them so much love!)

"Oh, you can handle it! This is barely anything. Besides, having your hands go numb from too many bags is an essential part of the mall shopping experience. I promise this is so authentic and neccessary." Against your words, you hold out a couple fingers to grab the handles of his bags. He lets go and sighs gratefully, rubbing his hands together to get feeling back into his fingers. You start to lean as you realize the bags were much heavier than you first thought, and you have to do some quick shuffling to avoid toppling over into him.

"I know you said it was easy to get distracted, but I guess I wasn't expecting…"

"Yeah, sorry. I just wanna make sure I don't forget anything we actually came here for."

"I get it. I really don't mind." He smiles that smile at you, the one that always makes your face light up and your heart sing and your worries and doubts and regrets sound like dull buzzing of the past underneath the loud simmer of your affection for him, and he points at a set of chairs in the nearby walkway. "This is my first time having to get so dressed up. I'm learning a lot."

"Well, it's not like I'm a pro at it either. You've seen what I wear to the office sometimes." He laughs and nods, and he tugs gently on your arm to steer you away from bumping into somebody. When your shoulder brushes against his arm, you take advantage of it to lean your head against him before leading him across the stream of people toward the chairs. You set your bags down and roll your wrists, looking around for a map. "I didn't think it would take quite this long to find something good, though."

"I promise, I don't mind." He taps the top of your head with one finger. You hum, so he leans down and presses a kiss in the spot he just tapped. As he stands back up, you lock your arms around his neck and pull him into a proper kiss, albeit one that's much too quick for your liking. You are in public, though, and having him spontaneously combust just wouldn't do, so you'll have to settle for his nervous laughter and wobbly smile for now. "Especially if I get more of those."

"So you're saying you wouldn't mind even if we stopped at every single store, right?"

"Well…"

"Ooh, and what about that one? Something for you, perhaps?" You nudge his side and point your elbow toward the lingerie store just behind you. He barely glances before snapping his head in the opposite direction. When his hand comes up to rub at the back of his neck, you're honestly not sure if his discomfort is emotional or physical.

"I… don't think I'm their target audience." You catch even yourself off guard by how loudly you laugh. You slap a hand over your mouth, clearing your throat in an attempt to disguise your remaining giggles.

"Well, I admit that would be pretty fun to see." You take a mental screenshot of the way his cheeks light up, filing that information away to use later. "But I meant for you. Like… as a present?"

"But you… Oh! I-I-I see! You don't need- I mean I don't need- it's not- we, um. That is-"

"Hey, baby." You tap a finger over his lips, and he stops talking just long enough to nod. "I'm just teasing." His smile is still lopsided and his cheeks are still warm, but his shoulders creep away from his ears when you kiss him, and you think you might just melt from how endearing it is. You pull away to slip the bags back over your arm, laughing when he jerks forward to snatch some away from you. "We should focus on what we came for, anyway. But, if you change your mind, let me know."

He shifts all his bags to one hand and reaches for you with the other, rolling his eyes as he pulls you toward the second floor.

+

You'd be lying if you said you weren't worn down by now. You'd started off hopeful and excited, but one store after another had been a disappointment, and if this one didn't meet your standards you were probably going to have to go home with nothing helpful to show for the hours you'd spent. Serizawa was doing his best to remain cheerful, but you could tell it was getting to him, too. You believed him - and agreed - when he said he was just happy to spend the time with you, but it was way more people than he was used to being around, and you could see the pinch at the ends of his smile and feel the way his hand twitched in yours when the volume swelled. You wanted to get him home.

"Let's make this the last one."

He didn't have the energy to fight you, just nodding and squeezing your hand.

You wander around, scanning the rows of clothing as you make your way down the main aisles.

"Should we just go home? I might just be tired, but I don't see anything good." He hums, low in the back of his throat, so you nod, turning to head for the door. Your arm jerks as you feel resistance, and you look back to find him staring off into the distance.

"Wait." He points to a mannequin in the back corner, then to another a couple racks over. "What about those?"

"Holy shit." They're clearly separate outfits given their distance apart, but everything about them looks like they were made to go together - from the color, to the fabric, to the pattern of how the stitching on the sides is tailored. "Katsuya."

"Hmm?"

"You're a fashion genius."

"I am?"

You don't have time to see his pleased expression before he's stumbling to follow behind you, practically running as you pull him along. You set your bags down to rummage through the racks, and he picks them up just in time to catch the clothes you haphazardly chuck at him.

"Sorry! Stay there!"

"R-right!" He straightens, standing awkwardly still as he waits for you to sprint over to the other rack and find the right size of everything for the other outfit. You sling everything over your shoulder and take the clothes back from him, looping your hand into the crook of his elbow to drag him to the fitting room.

You push the door open for him before slipping in behind him to lock it. He looks a little shell-shocked as he sets the bags down in the corner, and you drop the clothes onto the bench to reach for him. You slide your hands up both sides of his face and pull him down to press a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose.

"Sorry. I got very excited."

"I noticed." He tilts his head to kiss you fully, and your fingers slide back into his hair. "It was cute."

You click your tongue, ruffling his hair as you pull away to hide your flustered state. "Oh, stop flattering me and put these on." You pick his set of clothes out of the pile, wrinkled as all hell by now, and hold them out in one hand as your sift through your own clothes with the other.

"Okay." He gently takes the clothes, a huge smile plastered across his face, and you can't resist the urge to kiss him one more time.

Ordinarily, you would take every chance you had to tease him in a situation like this, but both of you are so tired that you strip without much pretense, throwing your clothes in a pile by the door like it's your hamper back at home. He laughs when you trip trying to take your shoe off and lets you scramble to catch his shoulder, but otherwise keeps his eyes politely in the other direction. It's not until both of you have stopped moving that you look over at each other, and you take a sharp breath in as you survey him.

"Damn." You reach up to straighten his tie, smoothing your hand down his chest as your gaze makes its way down his figure. "You clean up nice, Serizawa."

He's too busy staring at you to respond. You'll take that as a good sign.

"Here, let's see…" You put your hands on his hips to spin him toward the mirror, and he seems to blink himself back to awareness as you take your place beside him. He holds his arm out to let you wrap your elbow around it, and he smiles when you lean against him. "What do you think? Do we look good, or what?"

"Yeah." His voice is breathy, and it makes your own breathing catch in your throat. He pulls his arm out of your grasp and reaches around behind you, resting his hand on your hip to pull you against him again. He presses his nose into your neck, kissing you as soon as you lean toward him, before straightening to rest his chin on your head. You can feel him surveying you more than you can see it, and your temperature shoots up when his hand tightens on your hip.

"Hey…"

"Mhm?"

"Can we go back to that...?"

You blink, looking up at his face in the mirror.

"You said to tell you if I changed my mind, so..."

You bury your face in his chest and let out a breathy chuckle. "Tell you what." You pull yourself away from his side to lay your original clothes out. "When we get home, we can do some online shopping instead." You don't miss the way his gaze hovers as you pull the fabric over your head - just high enough over your shoulder that he could say he wasn't looking if pressed, but close enough that you both know he's staring. "That way we can both be flustered in peace. Deal?" He slips a finger into the knot of his tie and jerks his hand out. It comes easily undone, one end fluttering across his wrist to drape down his arm as he swallows thickly.

"Deal."

[sanipoyo]

“JUST GIMME MY MONEY” TREND ON THEM

note - my hero academia, fluff, this is an example of the trend if your unfamiliar with it!

you, DENKI, and mina gathered around in a circle to trick him. you explain the trend and to your surprise, he’s never seen it before. you and mina shoot each other sinister glares, excited to prank kaminari after all the pranks and jokes he’s pulled on the two of you. mina volunteered to start it off and you quickly called dibs on going second so the prank would go as planned. “just.. give me my money!” mina exclaimed and it was followed by cheering from you and kaminari. you pinched your fingers together and hesitated a little, “… just gimme my mo-NEY!” you said in a sing-song tone which was followed by cheering from denki and mina. kaminari prepared for his part and mina held her breath trying not to laugh, he closed his eyes and inhaled dramatically, “ju- ju- just.. give me money”, he began to clap and jump but then realized no one else was cheering. his lips curled into a frown and you and mina busted out laughing. “you guys are mean”, he said walking away from the two of you who continued cracking up at him.

you and mina were looking for your next victim for the prank and came across the perfect person. TODOROKI was just minding his business and the two of you approached him and you asked if he could be in your video for theatre class. he agreed and you explained to him what the whole thing was and he understood. you told him he had to go last so he could really grasp the idea of it and agreed. “just gimme my moooney!” mina started, and everyone clapped and cheered, shoto was definitely dry and lacking excitement but it was okay. “just give me my money!”, you said with what sounded like an italian accent? todoroki thought he was for sure about to take the cake with his part, you and mina looked at each other, already feeling the laughter bubble up in your throat. “can i please have your money?” shoto said proudly with a small smile on his face. you covered your mouth, trying to hold in your laugh as the two of you stared at him. he looked at the both of you confused, “did i do it wrong?” you and mina both began laughing uncontrollably as he stood there looking lost.

TAMAKI stood besides you as mirio explained how the trend goes. he was unsure about it because of you and neijre’s non-stop giggling, but he went along with it anyways. mirio did it big for his part, shouting “give me my money!” which caused amajiki to jump a little due to the unexpected enthusiasm. neijre was up next, she cleared her throat and got serious, “just gimme ma money!” she said in a demanding tone and you all cheered. you decided to do an all might impression during your turn (it sounded really good) and everyone laughed and cheered. when it was amajiki’s turn, he gulped nervously and tried to be as passionate as he could, “just give me my money”, he said awkwardly and you all looked at him. he immediately turned around and muttered how he was ‘going home’. of course, y’all apologized immediately but you guys still couldn’t contain your laughter at his response.

midoriya showed you the trend and insisted on doing it to BAKUGO, to which you agreed. at lunch time, deku called katsuki over and he came over, annoyed that his lunch was interrupted. “okay kacchan, we have this.. project and we need you to recite what we say and do, can you do that?” izuku bluffed, he knew bakugo wouldn’t do it if he was told that it was a silly tiktok trend. he refused at first, but caved when he was bribed with two packs of spicy instant ramen. “okay, so i’ll start, then deku will go, and then you, got it?”, you asked and bakugo scoffed at you, “yeah yeah, i��m not stupid.” you started it off and bakugo was hesitant to cheer for you at first, but he ended up just clapping with a scowl on his face. he did the same for midoriya, clapping and unenthusiastically saying ‘woooo’. it was his turn and he didn’t put any effort into it, just a simply “give me my money” as he slowly clapped, which was followed by silence and blank stares. this obviously infuriated him because he did exactly what you guys told him. he began yelling at you two and y’all had to hide the laughter so he wouldn’t blow you up.

Ⓒ all published work belongs to sanipoyo! do not copy/plagiarize.

[whydoeseveryonewanttobangchan]

💧 Tell me what you want, sweetheart. How many fingers, how fast… 💧

��� Pairing: Chan x fem!reader, Jeongin x fem!reader

✎ Genre: Smut

✎ Summary: Jeongin’s good instincts earn him a masterful lesson in fingering.

✎ CW: Established relationship, partner sharing, exhibitionism, vaginal fingering, praise

✎ Word count: 3,936

❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥

“……… y/n……. hello?”

The sound of your name snaps you back into reality, back to the dining room table in the dorm. Eyes shift toward the source of the noise to find Jeongin looking at you quizzically.

“Hellloooo… you there?” he asks, comically waving his big hand in the air.

“Yeah… sorry. Just zoned out,” you reply, but that’s a lie.

You had been aimlessly swirling your chopsticks around your bowl of ramen, trying to ignore the feeling of your boyfriend’s fingers traveling farther and farther up your thigh.

Chan had been craving you all day, he said, and he had every intention of having his way with you after dinner. But, apparently, that wasn’t soon enough.

Not long after he prepared two bowls of instant noodles and sat down to eat with you, his hand found your knee under the table. And he didn’t stop.

Not when you playfully brushed it away, not when Jeongin, Han and Changbin joined with their own quick dinners, and not even when you shot him that cautionary look when his thumb began making small circles over your kneecap and you forced your legs closed with all the strength you could muster. He was determined to keep you on edge, and he was doing a damn good job.

But, of course, he was unaffected. Just eating and chatting and laughing with the boys like it’s a normal evening. Like he wasn’t about to slide his long fingers under your shorts just out of view of the others.

And that was working fine for a bit, until everyone had nearly finished their food while yours was barely touched. Until one sharp inhale made it clear to at least one person that not everything was as it seemed.

“I said…. How was your day?” Jeongin repeats.

All eyes are on you now, and they seem to have varying degrees of understanding. Jeongin looks concerned, Changbin confused, and Han relatively clueless. And then there’s Chan and his big, brown eyes, gazing at you with a mix of encouragement and adoration.

“Oh, it was fine,” you answer in the calmest voice you can muster. “Work’s been busy, had a couple of long day-”

Your thought is cut short when Chan rotates his wrist and forces his fingers between your tightly closed thighs. His pinky extends to press against your underwear, and you can’t help but squirm in your seat.

“Uh, ahem. Sorry,” you restart, trying to recover with a fake cough and throat clear. “Just some long days at work. That’s all. Thank you for asking, Innie.”

The sweet smile you send his way seems to do nothing to lessen his concern. If anything, it just makes him more suspicious. Changbin and Han seem satisfied, though, and change the topic back to Hyunjin’s mistake during dance practice.

Chan’s hand travels higher and higher until he’s practically cupping you in his fingers. He rolls them from top to bottom, putting pressure on as much of you as he can from this angle. Then he adjusts again, sliding his pinky under the damp fabric, and you can’t take it another fucking second.

“Hey, I’m not feeling well,” you announce to the table. “I think I’m gonna go lie down.”

Chan’s hand returns to his lap and you stand up and turn on your heels before anyone can ask what’s wrong. You just make a beeline for your boyfriend’s bedroom, sent off by a chorus of “feel better!” and “sleep well!”

You plop down on the plush comforter and stare at the ceiling, trying to imagine what you’re in for tonight and telepathically tell him to hurry the fuck up. And it works, because his frame fills the doorway less than a minute later.

“Not feeling well, my angel?” he teases. “Is there anything I can do to make you better?”

“Shut up,” you shoot back playfully.

A sly smile spreads across his lips as Chan closes the door behind him and dims the lights before heading to the foot of the bed.

“You did so well out there, baby, staying quiet for me,” he praises. “Would you like your reward?”

He places his knees on either side of your legs and crawls onto the bed until he’s hovering above you. All you can do is sit and stare in awe of his big shoulders, his tense expression, his fiery eyes staring down at you.

The corners of his full lips pull into a smirk, and he lowers himself to your neck, gently kissing and sucking and biting the skin there.

“Mmmmm,” you moan, moving a hand to the back of his head to run the dark strands through your fingers.

“Do that again,” he mumbles against your skin. “Moan for me.”

One of his hands finds yours, interlacing your fingers and pressing into the bed, while the other slips under your shirt and grips you over your bra.

“Ohhh, hmmm,” you groan, melting into the bed at his touch.

He sighs and plants a final kiss on your neck before turning his attention to your lips. He closes your bottom lip between his plump, pink ones and holds it there for a few seconds, but it feels more like an eternity. You could stay like this forever, just surrounded by him. But a knock at the door cuts eternity short.

“Hey, y/n, Chan… everything ok?” Jeongin’s voice sounds from the hallway.

“Yeah, thank you for checking, Innie!” you yell back and wait to see if that’ll be enough to end his curiosity.

“No, something isn’t right… I can feel it. Can I come in?” he asks.

Chan sighs and looks back to you. An annoyed expression and a slight nod send him to the door knowing that this interruption is his fault and his alone.

“Hey, she’s ok I promise,” Chan says, standing in the doorway to block Jeongin’s entry but not hide the view of you on the bed. “Her stomach is just upset, that’s all.”

You push up on your elbows and smile at him, and he smiles back. But it doesn’t reach his dark eyes. He glances back and forth between you and Chan a few times before he speaks again.

“You two are up to something. What did you do, Chan?” he asks, squaring up to his hyung the best he can. The tense look on his face and broadening of his shoulders is enough to send you both into a laughing fit, and then there’s no choice left but to tell him the truth.

“Are you serious? That’s what that was?!” he exclaims. “I thought something was wrong. Jesus.”

He pauses for a second and can’t help but glance at the both of you, at Chan’s hand, at your thighs.

“You… you really did that with your fingers?” Jeongin whispers to Chan.

Your beautiful boyfriend throws his head back and laughs, squeezing his eyes shut tight. Truth be told, he could do that to you by simply existing, but his fingers… there’s something magical about them.

“Wow…” Innie mumbles. “You’ll have to teach me that sometime.”

“How about now?” Chan asks, glancing back at you for approval.

You smirk and nod in response. He knows you love a captivated — consenting — audience.

A rosy color spreads across the maknae’s cheeks, and he instinctively pulls his sweatshirt’s collar up to his nose in an attempt to hide.

“No, I couldn’t. That’s… this… no…” he declares, but he can’t keep his eyes away from your lower body for more than a few seconds, and an occasional twitch in his sweatpants makes it clear he’s not entirely opposed to the idea.

“Come here, I’ll show you,” Chan says, grabbing Innie by the arm and pulling him over to the bed. “You don’t have to touch if you want. Just watch what I do.”

Chan plops down comfortably on the edge between your legs, and Jeongin awkwardly sits on the corner of the mattress.

“It’s mostly about pressure, yeah? Depending on where you are, do you want to massage…” Chan explains, wrapping his fingers around and gently rubbing your ankle. “…or do you want to tease…”

He loosens his grip and drags his fingertips up your shin, to your knee, and back down, leaving a trail of goosebumps as he goes. You thrust upward just a little, yearning for that same touch between your legs.

Chan smiles as you squirm, enjoying his teacher role already. Jeongin’s watching his hyung’s fingertips with intensity, and next thing you know, he’s testing his skills on your other leg.

“Like this?” Innie asks, placing both hands on your sock-clad foot and using his thumbs to massage the base through the cotton. Fingertips drag to your ankle and hook around the sock’s cuff, rolling it down and over your toes and off.

He applies pressure to different spots on the base of your foot, watching your face to see how it feels. Once he passes your heel, he puts his palms to work, too, dragging his big hands up and down the sides of your calf.

“Yeah, nice,” Chan says, smiling approvingly before turning his attention back to you. “You like that, baby?”

“Hmmm….”

It would be hard to not enjoy four hands caressing your legs, but something about Jeongin’s fingers elevates the feeling. Like his big hands could do so much damage, but instead, they’re caressing you gently. And all you can think about is how he could wreck you in so many ways…

You snap back to reality as your boyfriend lifts the hem of your T-shirt to slide his hand up and rub your stomach. Even with everything else going on, his eyes are glued to yours, and that sweet smile is still aimed at you.

“Good so far, sweetheart?” he asks.

“Mhm,” you reply softly between sharp breaths. “You ok?”

“Of course, as long as you’re happy,” Chan replies, then turns to Innie. “Ready for the next step?”

Jeongin doesn’t answer immediately. Honestly, he probably didn’t even hear Chan. He’s staring at your legs so intensely, almost in wonder.

“Oi, Jeongin,” Chan repeats, snapping the fingers of his free hand.

“Oh, yeah, sorry, yeah,” the younger boy answers, shaking his head softly. “What do I do?”

“Go higher,” Chan says matter-of-factly, like this really is just a lesson and you’re the study participant — and Jeongin is his most eager student.

The maknae immediately wraps a hand around your inner thigh, down toward your knee. At Chan’s instruction — an encouraging nod is all he needs — Innie slides his warm hand up and up. Slowly, gently.

The unfamiliar touch has you instinctively pulling your legs closed, but Chan’s comforting touch on your stomach keeps you relaxed. His palm is pressed flat, and his fingers make small circles on your soft skin. His other hand replicates Jeongin’s path and gently squeezes the flesh of your inner thigh.

“Hmm.”

A deep hum vibrates from Innie’s throat, and his hungry eyes are trained on the wet spot on your shorts.

You’ve always wondered if other people can smell your arousal. Chan jokes that he can — “It’s the wolf in me, what can I say?” — but he’s generally full of shit. Regardless of whether or not he can smell it, Jeongin can certainly see it. And the way he’s licking his lips has you convinced he wants to taste it, too.

“Go ahead, Innie,” you say reassuringly. “Touch me, it’s ok.”

And then he does. His fingers slide under your shorts and roughly press into your panties. His sudden movements startle all three of you, and Jeongin’s face burns bright red in embarrassment and he pulls his fingers back into his lap.

“A little too quick,” Chan explains. “Something like that is fine if you’re going hot and heavy, yeah? But for something like this…”

Your boyfriend’s hand presses into your thigh and inches up until his fingertips reach the fabric of your shorts. He runs the damp material between his fingers and lightly bites his lip before speaking again.

“… you want to go slowly. Gentle and loving. Maybe a little teasing,” he says with a wink. “That’s what she likes, anyway. Don’t you baby?”

“I just tolerate it because he enjoys being an ass,” you say to Jeongin, who’s still sitting there with his fingers pressed into his thighs.

“Naur, you love it,” Chan teases back. “You love when I play with you.”

He slides your shorts to the side, just like he did earlier tonight. His thumb slowly runs up and down your folds through your underwear while his other hand resumes its circles on your stomach.

“You love when I do this for you,” he continues. “And I love doing it…”

His thumb presses into you deeper through the soaked cotton. Once the fabric can’t stretch anymore, he pulls back out and feels for your clit. He finds the spot and applies just enough pressure to make you squirm.

“That’s my girl,” Chan hums.

His gaze hasn’t left your face. It’s like he forgot someone else is there at all. Like it’s only you two on the bed, business as usual.

Your boyfriend hooks his thumb under your panties and moves them to the side to touch you. He runs his thumb down the length of your opening, parting your lips to feel inside of you where he can.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” Chan whispers. “How many fingers, how fast.”

The hand on your stomach moves to your cheek and caresses it softly. He shifts his weight on the bed so his face can follow, too. Chan sweetly kisses your forehead, then the tip of your nose, then your lips.

“You have me in the palm of your hand, baby. I’ll do whatever you say.”

He breathes into your mouth, his lips only inches from yours when he speaks. You’d love to answer him, but your brain’s all fuzzy and your tongue wants to taste his teeth.

Hands go to his neck to keep him close while your lips press into his. He somehow knows exactly what you want — he always does — and parts his lips for you. Your tongue runs along the backside of his teeth, then the front, before you close his top lip between your teeth. His tongue joins yours then, and you spend what feels like forever just savoring each other and pouring every ounce of affection into each kiss.

Eventually, he pulls away with a smile spread across his swollen lips. He beams down at you, then turns to Jeongin.

“So, like I said…” he starts. “For something like this, you want to be soft, romantic. Listen to your partner’s body, and do what they like.”

Chan resumes his vertical strokes between your legs and faces you again.

“Most of it is about the buildup, right honey? I haven’t even stuck a finger in you yet.”

“He’s right,” you answer. “He always says such pretty words, sometimes I finish before we even get started.”

Chan smiles wide at your compliment.

“So, we’ve covered foreplay. Now, let’s get to fingering,” Chan says, slipping right back into his insightful teacher role. He lightly tugs on your shorts and continues: “Baby, do you mind?”

“Nope, go ahead.”

“Ok, lift up for me.”

He gently slides your shorts and underwear down your legs and tosses them to the floor. One hand gently rests on your upper thigh while the other settles on your lower abdomen.

“Before you do anything else here, you want to make sure she’s wet enough,” Chan explains. “If you did the first part right, you should be fine, but it’s important to check before doing anything too quickly or roughly.”

Your boyfriend positions a finger at your entrance and looks at you.

“Ready?”

“Mhm,” you reply softly.

One long, bony finger gently slides inside of you and traces circles around your walls.

“This isn’t a great example because she gets really wet — you saw her shorts,” Chan says with a soft chuckle. “But this is a good way to check and see what she’s ready for. Here, you try.”

Chan removes his finger and gestures for Jeongin to use his instead.

“You sure?” he asks nervously. “I don’t wanna…”

“You won’t fuck it up. You didn’t fuck it up last time either,” you speak softly. “How else are you gonna learn, Innie?”

“Ok…”

He speaks hesitantly, but his finger is inside you within seconds. His are even longer than Chan’s and how deep he can reach with minimum effort comes as a surprise, but a good one this time.

You inhale deeply and close your eyes as Jeongin starts to move that finger in and out slowly.

“Good, now go in a circle. That’ll help you gauge how much more you can stretch her right now,” Chan instructs.

Innie does as he’s told and a smirk spreads across his lips.

“I think she’s ready for another,” he says.

“Go ahead then,” Chan urges.

Another long finger slides inside you, and he keeps them pressed together as he moves in and out. A minute or two passes with the same motion, and Chan must see the blank expression on your face, so he offers to help.

“So, now it’s about the technique,” he says, placing a hand on Jeongin’s wrist. “You want to rotate your hand and use your fingers to reach the good spots.”

“The good spots?” Jeongin asks.

“That varies by person, unfortunately,” Chan answers. “Just have to mess around and practice on your partner ‘til you figure out their weaknesses. For example…”

Chan tightens his grip on Innie’s wrist and pulls his hand back a little.

“Bend your fingers,” he instructs.

The younger boy’s fingers are so long, he can’t help but stretch your walls apart when he bends them inside you.

“Ok, now keep them like that…”

Chan slowly directs Jeongin’s fingers forward and back, keeping an eye on your face to determine when he — or Innie, more like — is close. And when you take a soft, sharp breath in, he knows he’s got you.

“And now we add a little rotation…”

He pushes and pulls and twists Innie’s wrist like he’s playing the world’s most gentle round of Bop It.

“Oh…”

That one breathy word brings a huge smile to your boyfriend’s face.

“There, you got it,” he says to Innie, continuing to work his friend’s wrist to make you moan and sigh.

“And when you get more acquainted with their… uh… anatomy, you can target it more,” Chan continues. “May I…?”

He releases his hold on Innie’s wrist and patiently waits his turn. Jeongin slides his fingers out and sits them in his lap delicately, like he’s not sure what to do with them now that they’re covered in you. But you’re not too worried about that, because Chan’s fingers are back inside you now, and he’s rubbing and applying perfect pressure to that spot…

“Oh fuck…” you moan a little louder this time, and he just continues with a determined look on his face.

“I can get her to finish like this, or I could toss in some other techniques…” Chan muses, then pushes down gently on the stubbled skin above your pubic bone. “This increases pressure inside, making her feel more… full, I guess? Is that right, baby?”

“Ahuh, sure,” you answer quickly between sharp breaths.

Your eyes are mostly closed, but you can still see Chan’s confident smirk and watch Innie slowly slide his wet fingers into his mouth when he thinks you’re not looking. Something to tease him for later.

“And, of course,” Chan says, “don’t forget about her clit.”

He adds a third finger and rotates his hand so his palm is at an angle. He places his thumb on your most sensitive area and adjusts so he can press on the little nub directly.

“If you want to keep pressure here, you can’t pull out as far,” he explains. “That’s when you really focus on massaging her g-spot so you can keep your hand steady on her clit.”

He demonstrates with the same level of determination he showed earlier, even biting his lip this time. Jeongin is absolutely entranced next to him.

“And if you’re ready for the grand finale, and you’re comfortable with it, a little dirty talk never hurt anyone…” Chan trails off as he lowers his head down to yours once again, lips pressing softly against the edge of your ear.

“Gonna come for me, baby?” he whispers so only you can hear and increases the pace of his little circles and thrusts.

Your simple “y-yes” is barely audible and sandwiched between moans.

“I love your little sounds. You make the most beautiful noises for me, baby,” he hums as he gently bites your earlobe. “I can’t wait to make you scream later.”

“Chan… I…” you barely manage to utter and open your eyes to signal to your boyfriend that you’re almost there.

And just past him, looking entirely enthralled, sits Jeongin. His hand is gently rubbing your calf again, but you see it before you feel it. It’s like every nerve in your body relocated to between your thighs, and they’re all ticking time bombs.

“I know you’re close, sweetheart. You’re doing so good. Such a good girl for me, baby,” Chan praises as he continues his work and uses his free hand to stroke your hair. “Come for me.”

And you do. Gently, but loudly. Your body manages to remain still for the most part, but your chest rises and falls erratically while your moans and sighs fight for release against your lungs that desperately need oxygen.

You grip a handful of Chan’s hair and pull, and he just giggles and lets you guide his head to your chest. He listens to your heart pound with a sweet smile on his face as you ride this out.

The high doesn’t last too long, and aside from a tiny ringing in your ears, you’re back to normal in under 30 seconds. You open your eyes again to see the two of them staring down at you before Chan turns his attention to Jeongin.

“So, there you have it. Any questions?”

The younger boy looks like he’s doing math in his pretty head as he speaks: “… no, not right now.”

You can’t help but laugh at his bewilderment. It’s like he just saw a magic trick.

“Well, if you don’t mind then,” Chan says, facing you again. “I’m about to start my masterclass, so…”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Jeongin answers, snapping out of the trance and standing up from the edge of the bed. “Thank you, thank you both.”

He turns and heads for the door as your boyfriend leans down to kiss your lips and pull the comforter up over you. The two of them meet where the bedroom becomes the hallway and Chan opens the door.

“Let me know if you have any questions after you… practice,” he says with an exaggerated wink.

“Oh, I will,” Innie replies and steps into the hallway. As he heads back to the common space, Chan swears he hears him mumble, “Seungmin’s gonna lose his mind…”

Your boyfriend slowly closes and locks the bedroom door and pads back toward the bed.

“I think our little lesson is about to become big news,” Chan says as he slides into bed next to you.

“Honestly, that’s fine,” you answer sweetly. “I’m sure whoever they sleep with will thank us later.”

Chan shifts to lie on his side and wraps an arm around your waist. He smiles widely at you, displaying those gorgeous dimples.

“Guess we should practice our material for the next class then, yeah?” he whispers as he slides his hand down once again.

[typingdyslexiaisathing]

Hidden Under Blankets (Obey Me!) fic

Leviathan had left his room to head down to the kitchen and grab himself a snack of some kind. having spent the past five hours on his newest video game to finally find a suitable save point. All but inhaling the last cup of instant ramen to then use the bathroom and rinse off his face. Taking his time to think on if he should keep playing his game or just call it a night and sleep. He was really into the new game and wanted to find out what the story had lined up. But a yawn had him sigh to decide he should keep playing later. Since it wouldn't do to find out a plot twist when he was barely awake.

So the Avatar of Envy walked back to his bedroom. Only to find that the door was slightly open. Leviathan had been sure he had closed it when he left. So he knew it wasn't because he had forgotten to. His mind going into overdrive to ask dozens of questions. Was Mammon breaking in to ransack his stuff again?! Had Belphegor mixed up which room was his while sleepwalking?! What if some kind of alien species had decided to teleport into the Devildom and into the hallway to wait in ambush for him?! Or worse, steal all forms of otaku culture?!

Leviathan was instantly awake and alert enough to press his back against the wall and make a strategy. His tail gently easing the door open all the way to then wait for incoming hostiles. Yet nothing happened for Leviathan to wait a few moments. So the demon ever so slowly inched his way to the doorframe to peek inside his room. No one was there. Not a pesky Mammon or weird alien or even a wizard waiting to send him to a new world on a quest to save a kingdom. Just his room with the computer he left on humming and the fish in his fish tanks. But Leviathan knew better than to let his guard down. So he prepared himself before stepping into the room to duck down behind his bathtub. His gaze going to the closet to then look towards his desk. No signs of movement or anyone hiding in the closet or under the desk. Nothing but a few manga volumes and DVD cases.

But soon Leviathan did hear something. A shifting that was coming from inside his bathtub to also give a sigh of air. Making him tense before he blinked a few times. His brain wondering if aliens slept in bathtubs before he shook his head to clear it out better. So he leaned up to then see there was several blankets in the bathtub that weren't his. The lump under them moving as if turning over. So Leviathan used his tail to carefully lift the blankets and see who was in his chosen place of sleeping. There in the bathtub was you. Currently snuggling his anime body pillow and looking very lonely. Leviathan piecing things together for him to sigh in relief. So he reached over to poke you in the cheek a few times. Which had you openly grumble before you opened your eyes to look up at him. Leviathan took a second for you to blink the sleep out of your eyes. Then he leaned his head on his hand to ask, "Were you planning on kidnapping me to your room or are we going to share my bathtub?"

The fact Leviathan was being so casual over this made you smile. "I was going to leave that up to you. Since I only brought the blankets due to it being so cold and Lucifer not wanting to turn the heat up. But you might have to convince me to give you a blanket to use. Or just share both of them with me." Leviathan openly squeaked to blush from head to toe. Yet he soon smiled to actually lean down and lift you into his arms. Carrying you bridal style out of his room to head for your room and your much comfier bed. "I say we share a bigger bed and all the pillows you keep getting from us. Maybe if we wish hard enough, we'll wake up to snow in the morning. I know I'd be glad to get snowed in."

[i-cant-sing]

Hi. So I found this

And you can’t tell me that it doesn’t scream Fushiguro Reader’s drip. She could be wearing the most expensive kimono for her birthday (courtesy of uncle Naoya) but what stood out the most was her footwear. People are supposed to be GUSHING over the kimono but they cant help stare at her sandals

Fushiguro reader is just slurping up her noodles, not caring for manners while everyone stares at her feet

And uncle Naoya is sharpening his blade cuz they being creeps for staring at his niece’s feet

And that was the only time Fushiguro reader didn’t cause her usual chaos because I feel like she loves her uncle enough that she’s willing to offer him some peace and mind on her special day because he became her mom AND her dad ☺️

Platonic Yandere Uncle Naoya x Fushiguro reader

Oh yesss 100%. I mean just imagine that its reader's birthday (who is either a teen/adult now) and Naoya already gifted her the kimono the day before her actual birthday, and by now reader knows that she has to wear it because its a tradition- every year, Naoya gives you a kimono for your birthday (which is the first of many gifts he has for you) and you have to wear it for the birthday portraits he has commisioned for and its followed by a big party at night at home, so yeah... its the same every year because according to him "this is how rich people celebrate their birthdays."

You only comply because he lets you do anything you want for the rest of the day before the big party, plus you do love your uncle. I mean, even if he's an ass sometimes, a misogynist to everyone else, a walking red flag... he still raised you like his own, provided you with all the luxuries and a comfortable life, even after you were "abandoned" by your father. In his own way, you know he loves you and only wants the best for you.

Anyways, its the morning of your birthday, the maids have just finished dressing you up and doing your hair and you go to the living room for your pictures, and as expected the rest of the clan is already there, smiling widely as they all gushed about how pretty you looked in traditional clothing and its a nice sight to see you out of your Hello Kitty shorts and a hoodie with Naoya's face edited on a cockroach. They all start coming towards you, wishing you a happy birthday and envelopes with wads of cash, the females kissing your cheeks and cooing how cute you looked, while the men stiffly patted your head.

After the portrait and family pictures are done, its time for you and Naoya to do stuff you want while the family prepares for your big party.

You're both sitting in the car as the driver takes you to your favourite place- 7/11. "Do you like your kimono?" Naoya asks, looking out his window.

You nod. "I do. Thanks. Its really comfortable."

Naoya turns to look at you. "It better be. Its Chanel."

"Its definitely better than the snakeskin Gucci kimono you got me last year."

"I thought you'd like to know how it feels." Before you could argue, your favourite convenience store came into place and you were already out the door before the car had even came to a full stop, making Naoya yell at the driver for not getting the child locks installed.

-

Naoya could only watch in disgust as you ate downed another bowl of instant ramen before moving onto another one, the noodles smacking against your cheek as you slurped hard.

"Ugh." Naoya cringed as he picked up a napkin to wipe the residues off your face. "Why must you eat so messily? Do I need to send you to table etiquette classes?"

You just shrugged. "Its fun this way." You picked up another onigiri before inhaling it.

"Oh my- can you stop eating like you dont know where your next meal is coming from?!"

"Can you stop screaming? This is a public place, and you're disturbing everyone with your screeching." "You brat-" "Buy me some instant rice. I need to add it to my soup."

As Naoya is walking towards the aisle, grumbling about how this chemical pumped liquid full of MSG that you kill "soup" is gonna kill you one day, he notices some people standing in the corner and just staring at you- or more specifically, your feet.

And thats when Naoya notices those pink monstrosity of sandals.

What's worse is that these people are just gawking so openly, hell they even have their phones out and taking pictures of your feet and its driving Naoya absolutely bonkers because what kind of feet fetish creeps are these guys (some of them are just old grandmas, but Naoya does not discriminate. Everyone's a creep.)

Besides, he doesnt know how long they've been standing there. For all he knows, they could've taken pictures of more than just your feet and Naoya doesn't remember giving them the permission to fucking look, let alone record you!

So, naturally, Naoya stomps over to you and tells you that you need to leave now. Upon inquiring, Naoya tells you about the "creeps" who have been recording you all this time and what not and you just shrug.

"I'm not leaving. Besides, it doesnt bother me."

"Y/n dont start-"

"Cant you take care of it? I thought you said youd let me do anything on my birthday." You take the rice from his hands and dump into in your soup. "This is all sounds like an excuse for either your jealousy because I'm the one who's taking the spotlight or your inability to protect me, hm?"

And Naoya knows- he KNOWS this is your unbothered ass doing reverse psychology on him, but it works.

Because now Naoya has taken their phones, smashed them to the ground until they were pieces and then immediately bought the whole store so that these creeps can be thrown out.

-

"See? I can take care of you. And you wish I was jealous of you."

"Mmhmm." You hummed as you ate your ice cream. The whole store was now empty, so you could eat as much as you wanted in peace.

Naoya narrowed his eyes. "Besides, those sandals were not a good decision. Who let you walk around like that?"

"Your hair is not a good decision. Who let you dye it that color? Does everyone in the hate you so much that they let you walk around like that?" You countered.

"You brat, you're lucky its your birthday."

"I'm also lucky I dont look like a bleached rat, unlike some people who thought that was the shade of blonde they wanted their hair to be."

[gallusrostromegalus]

You mentioned once that Mai Valentine likes her sweets boozy and also you had a bunch of other preferred flavor profiles for TPOFATGIF. Any chance of something similar for AEIWAM?

I know Kubo made canon notes on everyone's favorite and least favorite foods, but this is for the AEIWAM versions of the characters. Here's much of the cast's food preferences, as characterization practice:

Ichigo:

As much as he gets teased for it and his name, Ichigo loves him some fruit. He will inhale any fruit or juice left unattended within arm's reach of him in seconds. Melons, berries, pineapple, pears, guava- he does not care. There is fruit, it's going in him. Isshin is pleased his son likes healthy snacks but sometimes the grocery bill can get alarming. Ichigo's least favorite food is anything with capsaicin in it- being a ginger means he's unusually pain-sensitive and with an equally touchy tummy. It burns on both ends and all the way through the middle too.

Orihime:

Tatsuki likes to joke that the gods were drunk when they made Orihime, and they put her taste buds in backwards. Truth is, Orihime is a sensation-seeking kind of autistic girl and loves novel flavors more than anything else. She read "salt, fat, acid, heat" and took it's advice very literally, so you end up with things like "cream (fat) of tuna (salt) balsamic vinegar (acid) sriracha (heat) casserole" . The only thing Orihime really dislikes is foods she's gotten bored of.

Chad:

Beef. The boy needs beef. Chad spent his early adolescence on his Grandfather's Cattle Ranch in Mexico, allowed to eat as much red meat as he wanted and his physique shows it. Now he's back in Japan where it's prohibitively expensive and he is DYING. Please. He is a large carnivore. He can't live like this. Chad's least favorite food is ironically, his most reliable source of red meat: the fast food burger. It's not the same. It mocks him.

(More Karakura Gang and Some Captains under the cut)

Uryuu:

Uryuu is the son of a doctor and a little weirdo in his own right and he will assemble a baked potato or disassemble a slice of pizza with surgical precision. He just sort of likes customizing his food before he eats it. Hence, his least favorite foods are things where all the ingredients are mixed together and inseparable, like stews and casserole.

Tatsuki:

Tatsuki is a hot wings afficionado- she likes all the flavors, because there's a lot of really nice flavor interactions in the milder sauces, but also, the hotter the better. She once entered a hot wings eating contest in middle school where every round was hotter than the last and sailed easily into the "scorpion death pepper" round before being declared the winner, much to her disappointment. She was still hungry, and those were a 5/10 at most for her. Tatsuki's least favorite food with anything with even a hint of clams or other mollusc shellfish in it. She hasn't been diagnosed with an allergy, but given her extreme aversion to shellfish, she's not going to press her luck.

Keigo:

Keigo lives on a rancid diet of junk food, novelty soda, and instant ramen and likes it that way, thank you. Ichigo periodically makes him eat an apple at sword point to get some kind of fiber and vitamin into him. Keigo's least favorite food is anywhere can't cook in a microwave, and all vegetables.

Mizuiro:

Mizuiro is way too vain about his skin and hair to live on Keigo's garbage raccoon diet, but he can't cook to save his life. His favorite foods are multivitamins and everything he can get delivered, and his least favorite is anything deep-fried and greasy

Rukia:

Rukia was raised in fantasy medieval Japan, but is a "I'll try anything once!" Girl and this has lead to her favorite food being Oregano. Favorite condiment. Puts it on everything, even ice cream. Once things calm down a little when she returns to soul society, she gets Orihime to send her a "care package" of assorted spices, snacks and modern "puzzle" foods (juice boxes and ramune) to show to Byakuya, who starts inviting friends and coworkers over to try these things too, and the resulting video makes Ichigo laugh hard enough to rip out a few of his stitches. Rukia's least favorite food is jellybeans, because she can never remember the flavors and keeps putting bad combinations of them in her mouth.

Renji:

Like Chad, Renji needs his fucking protein, and sure loves him some beef, but he's also got that ADHD Hyperfocus going on and regularly forgets to eat so while he's not specifically partial to the flavors, his favorite food in terms of 'keeping him alive and hale' is nutritional protein shakes. Like Ichigo, Renji is also partial to fresh fruits and has the spice tolerance of a recipe blogger from Kansas, but he does have an extremely strong aversion to Bananas that he refuses to explain.

Byakuya:

Byakuya is a sensation-avoidant autist who has had his aversions largely ignored in favor of "you need to uphold the clan honor by being POLITE at this dinner and EATING WHAT YOU ARE SERVED, you can throw up in private later", so his regular diet is quite mild and limited, which moderately terrified Unohana (she IS partially responsible for keeping him alive). A chance encounter with Zaraki Kenpachi accidentally saved the Kuchiki line because he introduced a New Food to Byakuya by being normal about it, and now Byakuya loves BEANS. All of them. Red, Black, Soy, Kidney, Mung, Great Northern, Purple String, Adzuki, Anasazi, Edamame, Pinto, Pole, Striped, Yard, Garbanzo and Navy. Peas too- English, snap, snow, lentil, black-eyed and split. Paired with already-acceptable rice, this makes his limited diet startlingly nutritionally complete and high in fiber. He'll never eat squid or octopus again if he can help it though.

Kenpachi:

AEIWAM Zaraki Kenpachi was raised by eagles and it shows through in weird places, like how he insists on eating poultry and fish bones like his mother taught him to. In fact, the bones from deep-fried chicken are his favorite, and he will help himself to the bones other people don't want. He has a cast iron stomach that rarely gets upset and a notable sweet tooth, but is extremely picky about texture. This surprises some people who think that living as a beggar for a few centuries means he'd eat anything, and comes as no surprise to anyone who HAS been that destitute- an off texture is often your only warning before a potentially lethal case of food poisoning. Hence, Kenpachi's least favorite foods are anything "slimy", which puts him off many sauces and seaweed-based dishes.

Yachiru:

AEIWAM Zaraki is significantly more amiable and cunning than his canon counterpart because, realistically, he had to keep Yachiru fed. No village will let a random murder-hobo in to eat, especially if he's broke, so Zaraki got exceptionally good at ingratiating himself with strangers and getting hired at odd jobs in a hurry. This was an extremely sharp learning curve because he found Yachiru when she was an infant and not yet weaned, and he had to go to some fairly extreme measures to get milk for her. It's a point of pride for him that his little girl has never gone to bed hungry, even if he did. Yachiru is very aware of the fact she has historically eaten better than her father, despite his best efforts to disguise it, so her favorite foods are anything she can share with him- bags of small candies or chips or other snacks she can divy up and insist he eat too. She gave Zaraki his sweet tooth sharing candy like this, but anything she can share while eating is a favorite. Her least favorite is boiled vegetables. There is nothing that can make boiled broccoli worth eating.

Unohana:

Retsu Unohana has severe ADHD and makes food choices based first on the dopamine reward she gets from eating them, and the medical knowledge of "you need vitamins and fiber too, bitch" second. She would live on high-octane coffee with an excessive amount of sugar and cream if it were nutritionally complete, but alas. She does have a notes fondness for organ meats like liver, kidneys and lungs because they taste "richer" to her, and the novelty appeals as well. However, she has seen the horrors of what The Wrong Mushroom will do to a human body up close far too many times, and it's put her off eating fungi entirely. She'll eat her own hand before she'll eat a mushroom.

Komamura:

Food is both a joyful and distressing experience for Sajin. Joyful, because his exceptionally sensitive sense of smell and taste means he gets to experience layers to even the most simple foods that humans can't even begin to comprehend. Distressing, because humans have a very weak sense of taste and over-season their food accordingly, often with poisons. A lot of the reason he started wearing a helmet was less about fear that humans would attack him for being a wolf man, or that he would inspire undue fear in others, and more that he has a hard time saying "No" to people, who keep unwittingly offering him food full of toxic onions or worse, grapes. The helmet was not easily removed, and kept the dangerous gifts at bay. Fortunately, modern humans are more aware of things that will poison him and more willing to make accommodations on his behalf. Still, his least favorite food is Raisins, which keep being added to otherwise perfectly good dishes, like someone deciding to sprinkle a bit of Water Hemlock in their tacos. He still keeps the Occasional "Carnivore Outing" he and Zaraki take to the distant mountains to celebrate their shared cultural heritage a secret though, because he's not sure most of his friends and colleagues are ready to learn that his favorite food is "Elk bone marrow, either still hot from the kill or after it's been buried in dirt for a week", but at least these days he has Zaraki "You know how it is with Liver and Eagles" Kenpachi to commiserate and split the carcass with.

Tousen:

Kaname did his required tour of duty in the living world in Oaxaca, Mexico and while he was there he developed a taste for Chapulines, or fried grasshoppers. He didn't mention this delicacy when he returned to soul society, not out of fear that people would think he was a freak- his coworkers already largely did, either because of his blindness or his Blackness, if not both- but because one of the few coworkers who he genuinely liked and got along with was Lieutenant Mashiro, whose favorite animal is Grasshoppers. His least favorite food is any alcoholic beverage or boozy dessert, because the one time he tried drinking with some friends from Shinigami academy, he developed a case of the spins just two drinks in and immediately became completely disoriented and couldn't right himself, and quickly became too nauseous and panicked to speak. His friends were having a GREAT time and thought Kaname was doing his usual wallflower nonsense until Liza Yadomaru finally realized something was amiss and she and Love Aikawa ended up taking him on a drunken sprint to the emergency room. He got better by morning but now even the smell of alcohol makes him feel sick again.

[97-liners]

sugar and you, except with flowers and jihoon

cranky wedding planner woozi x florist reader

words: 2.1k

just a silly little thing i wrote this afternoon! spinoff of sugar and you (mingyu)

(May)

Jihoon is ill-tempered, foul-mouthed, and prickly. Whenever he’s distracted, lost somewhere in his thoughts, his face naturally settles into a scowl. His glowers could melt sand into glass. And so, it’s a measure of his competency, brutal efficiency, and eye for design, that he’s the most sought-after wedding planner in the city.

The first time Chan meets Jihoon, he’s nearly brought to tears. You’re in the back room, elbow deep in a sink full of camellia branches and pungent water, when you hear your teenaged part-timer calling for you in an anxious voice.

“Boss?”

You know he’s in trouble, because you’ve never heard Chan calling you ‘boss’ in the month that he’s worked here. “Coming,” you call out, drying your hands on the front of your apron. The camellias can wait. “What is it?”

You step out from behind the curtain separating the back room from the shop and come face to face with a very disgruntled looking Jihoon. Blinking at him, you slow to a stop, damp fingers still twisted in the fabric of your apron. “Jihoon? I thought you weren’t picking up your order until next Wednesday.”

“There’s been a change of plans,” Jihoon sighs. “The flowers for the venue can stay the same, but the bouquets need to be blue.”

You raise your eyebrow. “All of them?”

“And the boutonnieres too,” he says. “I know it’s short notice, I’m sorry,” he sighs, running his fingers through his already-tousled hair. He looks like he hasn’t slept in two days. 

“No, I can do it,” you smile at him. “I’ll come in this weekend to work on them. Chan,” you turn toward the boy, “can you go back and finish stripping the camellias?”

“O-oh, sure,” he responds, glancing briefly toward Jihoon before slinking past you and disappearing behind the curtain.

“Here, Jihoon,” you turn toward the wall of humming refrigerators along the back of the shop, “let’s see what we can do.”

Jihoon follows you, watching silently as you deftly pick out your selections. 

“What’s the vibe?” You pick out a small cluster of periwinkle-colored hydrangeas.

“Something with texture,” he responds. “Modern, not traditional, but not minimalist.”

“Some sage,” you pluck out the greenery and tuck it in with the quickly growing bundle in your arms. “These silver-dollar eucalyptus sprigs would be good too. As for the statement blooms, I’m thinking these delphiniums would do well. I have some dried blue thistles in the back as well. Some queen anne’s lace for extra texture. Um.” You look down at the mess of flowers and greenery in your hands. It’s a mess, completely unarranged, but you can already see the colors coming together.

Chewing on your lip, you shift some of the stems around, then you look up at Jihoon. “What do you think?”

Jihoon looks down at the flowers, then up at you. He might be looking at you more than the flowers, in fact. “I think,” he says, "you’re a genius.”

From behind a curtain of leaves and tightly-shut buds, you beam at him.

(Later, over steaming bowls of instant ramen and scattered thistle stems, Chan asks you how you know Jihoon.

It takes you longer than you’d like to answer that question, but you settle with what Jihoon would say if he was here: “we work together frequently.”)

.

.

.

(August)

By the time Jihoon comes around, iced coffees in tow, it’s pouring rain outside. The perfect Sunday morning of just a few hours ago is now gone, replaced with low-hanging gray clouds and relentless sheets of stinging rain. It’s so humid, the large glass walls of the greenhouse are covered in a dense layer of condensation.

You, too, are covered in a sheen of sweat as you twist green florist’s wire around stems of sunflower and seeded eucalyptus into a wreath. 

“It’s terrible in here,” Jihoon groans as he takes his place on the stool next to you. “It feels like I’m inhaling water.”

Laughing, you glanced over at him. “Jihoon, it’s a greenhouse. What did you think it was gonna be like?” 

Jihoon ignores your question, instead choosing to ask a question of his own. “Aren’t you hot? Look, you’re sweating. Here.” He holds out an iced coffee at you.

You take the cup from his hand and relish the feeling of ice-cold condensation on your skin. “Thank you, Jihoon,” you tell him, watching as his ears instantly flush red, “you’re too nice to me.”

“I’m not,” he says automatically. “You work too hard.”

“Aren’t you being a bit of a hypocrite?”

“Yes,” he answers easily. “And here.” He reaches into his bag and pulls out a small earthenware vase with streaks of blue-green glaze. “Saw this at a gallery last night. It made me think of you, so I bought it for you.”

“Oh, Jihoon,” you smile fondly. He places the vase on your work table, and then he rotates it slightly so the most interesting glaze pattern is facing you. “I love it, Jihoon. Thank you for thinking of me.” In your little office in the shop, you have a bookshelf filled with trinkets and knick knacks. There’s a school art project that Chan had gifted to you, various books on horticulture and the Victorian language of flowers, dozens of your own notebooks detailing watering orders and deliveries and watering schedules and soil formulas, and a small smattering of little glass vases and earthenware pots that Jihoon has collected for you over the years. Every week, you dust them all and wipe them down with a damp cloth so that they shine in the afternoon sun.

(A week from today when Jihoon visits and drops by your office to pick up an invoice, he stops dead in his tracks when he spots the newest vase on your desk placed between your monitor and printer. It’s prime desk real estate, dedicated just to his vase and the small arrangement of wildflowers that you’ve placed in it.)

It’s the weekend, but Jihoon is restless and itching for some work to do, so you give him a plastic tub full of loose ribbon and twine and set him to the task of spooling and organizing everything. He puts his laptop on the work table, right between your side and his side, and the two of you watch anime quietly while working. At the end of the afternoon, you have a dozen bright sunflower wreaths, and he has a full rack of spooled ribbon. 

When he helps you put everything away, back in the fridges and cabinets where they all belong, he accidentally brushes against you. For a moment, you’re so close to Jihoon, you can smell the coffee on his breath, and you wonder would it would be like to kiss him.

.

.

.

(December)

“Sorry,” Jihoon says, looking genuinely apologetic under the rising and falling waves of light coming from the passing streetlights. He’s driving, and you’re pleasantly tipsy, leaning your head against the cold window and watching him.

“It’s okay, I’m not cold.” The heating is wonky in his car, and he’s bundled up in a big puffy coat with his pressed white cuffs peeking out from under his sleeves every time he moves his hands on the steering wheel. His suit jacket had been given up for you to put over your legs like a blanket, despite your protests that you would wrinkle it. It’s okay, Jihoon had shrugged, ears red, I gotta bring it to the dry cleaners anyway.

“Oh, good,” Jihoon says. He pauses and laughs. “That’s not what I was apologizing for, but I’m sorry about the heating too.”

You frown. “What are you sorry for?”

Jihoon shrugs, and for a second, he doesn’t say anything. It’s just the sound of the highway and the soft music from the radio that filters over the noise. Then, Jihoon tells you, “sorry for dragging you to a wedding and making you sit in a corner all night.”

“Oh.” You blink at him, and then you laugh. “Jihoon, you didn’t drag me to a wedding. You invited me to be your plus one, and I accepted. And you didn’t make me sit in a corner all night, we sat at a table and spent all night talking and eating.” Feeling very sleepy and warm, you grin dopily at him.  “And, for the record, I had a lot of fun.”

Jihoon doesn’t respond again for a few seconds, and you almost doze off before he speaks again. “Thanks. I, um, also had a lot of fun.”

“Thanks, Jihoon-ah,” you mumble. “Wake me up when we get to my place, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he whispers. “Sweet dreams.” 

(Later on, when he parks and stops the engine, he waits for a while first. You’re already awake, of course— you had woken when he turned off the highway and onto the quieter streets of your neighborhood— but you sit with your head leaned against the window and eyes closed, breathing quiet and even, and you let him have this moment. Here, in his parked car, where it’s dark and quiet, you let him watch you and chew on the inside of his cheek, hand balled up in a fist in his lap, clenching and unclenching as he struggles over whatever internal turmoil he’s working through. 

You decide to save him from his struggle and shift slightly, putting on a show of blinking awake, all dazed and bleary. 

“Cute,” Jihoon mumbles quietly.

You look up at him, wincing at your sore neck. “Huh?”

His eyes widen. You have an inkling that he didn’t mean for you to actually hear that, but he just flushes and pulls his lips into a thin line. “Did you have a nice nap?”

You smile at him and nod. “Thanks for driving, Jihoon. And thanks for inviting me to come with you.”

Jihoon nods, cheeks pink, and accepts his crumpled jacket when you hand it back to him. “Um,” he starts, looking at your right ear, “I had a really good time. With you.”

“Me too,” you grin, leaning forward. He leans back for a moment, and then he seems to recollect himself and he straightens his spine again so that the two of you are just inches apart. 

“And, I think it would be nice if we could do this again,” he finishes his statement. 

He’s so cute and flustered, you can’t help but to tease him a little. “What, go to other weddings? As guests? Just how packed is your social calendar?”

“I mean, not weddings, necessarily,” he rushes to clarify, “but, like, other things. The two of us.”

Your heart feels so full, you’re afraid it’ll bubble over. Jihoon reminds you of the gardenia plant you keep in your kitchen. You had rescued it from a hardware store, purchased at a discount when it was sickly and yellow, and you spent months and months caring for it– running a humidifier next to it, timing the amount of sun it was getting and supplementing with grow lights, testing the moisture of the soil every week, and after half a year, your little gardenia shrub produced just one large, beautiful, white blossom. Gardenias are sensitive– they like sun, but only a little bit; they like humidity, but water on the leaves will cause spots; and they won’t tolerate being moved around. You had originally planned on moving the gardenia to the shop eventually, but you ended up keeping it for yourself, this fragile little resident of your kitchen counter. 

You decide to take mercy on Jihoon. “I like you,” you smile, unable to suppress the fond way you melt at him. “We don’t have to go on dates if you don’t want to.”

“No, no, I do want to go on dates! I just…” he huffs out a quick bark of laughter and pushes his hand through his hair, messing up his perfectly styled hairdo. “I like you too.”

“That’s perfect, then.” You lean forward, even closer. “Jihoon, can I kiss you?”

“I–I,” he stammers, flushing even harder, “yeah. Yeah.”)

.

.

.

(May, again)

“Hi, boss,” Chan pokes his head through the curtain separating the shop from the greenhouse. It’s his last summer before he goes off to college, so you’re having him train his younger brother before he leaves town. You’ll miss Chan, that’s for sure, but Geon is a sweet boy. “Your scary boyfriend is here again.”

You frown. “Don’t call him that.”

Chan shrugs. “I think Geon is gonna cry if you don’t come out.”

Shaking your head, you grin and take off your gardening gloves. The roses can wait. You have a grumpy boyfriend to take care of first. 

[chubjoon]

You can('t) call me Idol.

Seokjin knows he shouldn't do this as he is technically forbidden to , but he can't stop himself.

He's been forced to be on a strict diet for an upcoming comeback, but right now with the build up of never ending blend food and stress, the only comfort he’s found was snacks he impulsively bought at the 7/11 in the middle of the night. It was a risky trip, but oh so worth it he thought as he finished his fourth pack of snacks. It's been a while since he felt satiated, and the warm feeling of being full was soothing to all the stress he's been having due to their next comeback.

He patted his stomach and reckoned it had become a small bump now because of all the snacks he ate after his dinner. He didn't think about it too much, it was only a special occasion right now as it has been one of the worst days of these past few weeks.

He threw the packages away in his desk bin and burrowed himself under his covers, sated and relaxed.

But alas, it didn't stop there. He found himself in the same situation the day after, and the day after, and the day after, until it became weeks of night trips to 7/11 to buy more and more snacks. It's even been almost a week and a half since Seokjin started buying fried chicken with all of the rest of the snacks.

As always, he was in his pajamas sitting in his bed gorging on all the snacks he bought. He couldn't count the amount of packages that were surrounding him. He was only keeping his stress at bay right now with every bite he took, now greedily devouring the chicken he bought and savoring it like it was the first time he's ever had it.

He felt sad when he finished everything, not realizing how fast he ate. As usual, he gathered the packages to throw in his bin that's quickly overflowing these days. But everytime he did that, he’d feel how much all he ate weighed his belly down, slowing his movements.

He threw the plastic packages in his bin and then lifted his head towards the door. He just remembered they had some packets of instant ramen left in his pantry.

Quietly, he opened his door to check if anyone was around. Then, he crept up into the kitchen to prepare himself the ramyeon he's now dreaming of. After successfully finishing his cooking, he walked back to his room discreetly but quickly to finally be able to eat it.

He ate the noodles like he didn't just finish eating enough snacks for 4 people, fried chicken and his dinner. He inhaled them with renewed hunger, polishing his bowl quickly and drinking all the soup. He let out a burp without meaning to, laughing to himself as it startled him a bit. He felt his stomach being heavier, and it felt a bit sore. He brushed a hand against it, noticing that his stomach felt way more dome shaped than before, even pushing a bit into his oversized pajamas.

He didn't care because now, he felt warm and sleepy enough to instantly sleep when his head touched the pillow, which he did.

When the time of the comeback came around, he was having some troubles fitting into his designated suit. First, the pants had trouble coming up his legs and mostly his ass, he had to jump in place for the pants to finally cover it.

Seokjin took a peak at the mirror to see what's wrong. Well, it was very clear what was wrong.

He gained weight. And not just a little weight, enough for his belly to push through the open zipper of his pants and hang a bit low. Seokjin brought his hand to it and looked at how his belly filled his palm, jiggling it afterwards. He saw how jiggly his stomach was, not having noticed earlier.

He took a look at his face and saw that it was pretty obvious he's gained some weight. His cheeks were chubbier, and he had a noticeable beginning of a double chin. Under quite a lot of angles, you can see it.

He kept his surprise at bay and tried to button his pants, and after a bit of struggle he was able to. It hurt because it was too tight around his belly but it had to do the job.

He took his button up shirt and put it on, watching how his belly even if contained by his pants was able to push against the shirt. There were gaping holes in between each button and Seokjin didn't know how he would hide that.

He took the blazer and thank the Lord it did exactly what Seokjin wanted. It hid enough for his belly to not be too noticeable.

He sighed in relief and felt a button of his shirt loosened, accompanied with a creaking sound. He looked straight at his reflection in panic, looking to see if anything looked weird. Nothing did.

Well expect all the weight he's gained of course. He turned sideways and saw how thick his belly looked. Why did no one say anything to him?

What weirded him out the most was that he didn't quite mind it. He rubbed his hand on his new found belly and thought that he actually quite liked it. It suits him.

He can only hope he won't get screamed at for gaining weight.

He went all out that night. Bought his usual snacks and McDonald's which he hadn't had in years because of his diets.

He didn't get screamed at for gaining weight, be oh boy did he receive a lot of unflattering comments about his body. It lasted all day, all the time, until Seokjin was able to hide again in his oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants. He sulked the whole time when they were going home, looking outside the car window and keeping quiet to keep his anger from lashing out onto the members who did and said nothing. When they arrived at the dorms, Seokjin went straight up into his room and locked himself inside of it.

He only went out of it hours later during the night to go outside and buy his usual.

It was after his trip to the 7/11 that he saw a McDonald's a little further down the road. He didn't eat dinner so his stomach was rumbling at even the idea of sinking his teeth into a burger right now.

So he went there and, in a fit of hunger, bought two XL meals, a 20 chicken nuggets box and two wraps.

Something he quite regretted now as he was sitting on his bed, back against the headboard, empty wrappings around him, and his second burger in hand. It was the only thing left along with one of his drinks, but he felt so full.

He rubbed his stomach to relieve the dull pain he was feeling from it. He had to finish his food now. Tomorrow it won't be good anymore.

So he pushed through, and with some belly rubs he was able to finish all he bought. He rubbed his stomach a bit longer, looking down at it. It was bulging out, big and round and almost touching his thighs. He lifted his head towards his full length mirror and got an idea.

After a few struggles, he finally got up. He padded sluggishly towards the mirror and he took a hold of it. He carried it for it to be right in front of the foot of his bed, right in front of where he ate his food at night.

After that, he sat at the foot of his bed and looked at his reflection. His belly was pushing against his pajamas, with a hand on his stomach he felt and actually looked big.

He lifted his shirt and slid the hem of his pants until his stomach to get a whole view of his stomach.

It was riddled with stretch marks he didn't pay attention to earlier, slightly red from all the food that helped distend his stomach. He rubbed a hand on it, his belly feeling drum tight. He let out some burps he tried to quieten as much as possible.

He looked at himself rubbing his belly for some time before he got up to look through his closet.

He retrieved a button up shirt and a simple t-shirt, his basics in his wardrobe. He went and stood in front of the mirror again and he took off his pajama top. He took his t-shirt and slid it on, smoothing it down his torso.

It couldn't cover his belly entirely.

Only a centimeter or two wasn't covered by the fabric at the bottom of his belly but seeing him look so big in this t-shirt made Seokjin feel weird. A good kind of weird.

He took his button up and slid it over his t-shirt. He closed all the buttons and admired how tight it looked around his stomach. The gaps between the buttons were bigger than with the button up shirt he was wearing earlier, they looked ready to pop at any moment. He rubbed his hand over his stomach again and suddenly realized that the weird feeling he was having was horniness. That turned him on.

The rest of the night was all the more pleasurable following his new discovery.

A few weeks went by. Their comeback promotions were over and they were finally able to rest.

Since Seokjin was now able to just chill at his apartment alone since their schedule was done for now, this of course made him up the habit he’s begun to have.

He never stopped ever since the day he found out that feeling fat made him horny. Every night he'd eat more and more food, pushing himself and his belly every day. And now, since he could just laze all day…. He decided to up his challenge.

Now everytime he was playing on his computer, he was also emptying a stack of snacks he refueled whenever it was empty, and he always ordered fast food or copious amounts of food for every meal. He'd stuff himself to no end, leaving him a moaning mess at the pain he felt from stretching his stomach so much. But the feeling of his usual baggy pajamas starting to struggle stretching around his thighs as well as his shirt lifting up at every steps he took were worth the struggle.

He kept those habits during their whole break, for a month and a half almost. Tonight was his final night of eating whatever he could before he'd have to go back to the dorms again. So he let himself go.

He bought way more food than he planned initially, all mixes of fried foods, burgers, jjajangmyeon…. All his favorites. He gorged himself on the food like he never did before.

Each bite and swallow he took, he felt his stomach stretch more and more.

The more he ate, the more his small t-shirt was lifting itself slowly over his navel and even upper. His pajamas were tight around his thighs and hips, squishing and emphasizing his love handles more.

Eventually when he was done eating everything, some stains on his shirt and sauce around his lips because of the intensity of his eating. His stomach was aching but it also was pleasantly full. He let out a belch, his stomach begging for space, and he rubbed a hand over his belly.

His stomach was hard and dome shaped, it sat on his legs a bit. He tried to pull down his shirt but it was to no avail. He looked down at his stretched belly, patting it with his hands. He looked around at all the wrappers and packagings around him too and thought This is where I belong.

This was not going to be the last time.

He wanted to get bigger. So much bigger. So huge that sitting and eating all day was all he would be able to do.

So he started off with mixing himself weight gain shakes everyday, to drink all day along with his meals. Meals which he upped in size too.

With an average of 7000 calories per day and with his broken metabolism, his weight was bound to up even more rapidly than before.

When he was dressing up for a dance practice, as he was putting on a pair of sweatpants that he hasn't worn in a while, he noticed how hard it was to slip on. He had to pull really hard to get it fully on.

He grabbed the matching sweatshirt and put it on too. As much as he tried, the sweatshirt had a hard time covering his entire belly.

He looked in a mirror and got hit by his own reflection. He looked so fat.

His thighs and arms looked like sausage casings ready to burst out of the piece of clothing. His belly was hanging so low it was almost impossible for the sweatshirt to cover it, and it was warping the hem of his pants. His sweatshirt was skin tight, showing the rolls of his double belly and his small moobs that were forming.

He was so fat it was hard for him to fit in his mirror even. It was turning him on so much, he hesitated on if he should have a quick wank session before going to the dance practice. But he wouldn't have time.

He looked around and his eyes landed on his 1.5 liter bottle. Everyday now, he cut his weight gain shakes in half, drinking one half directly after making it and keeping the other in his bottle. He took it, opened the cap and drank from it.

Now, the bottle was full. But within a few seconds Seokjin was downing the last drops of it, rubbing his stomach at the same time. He put the empty bottle away and looked at his reflection again.

He looked so massive. He looked like a pig. He put his arms around his belly and shook it. It was such a bliss.

But alas, he got to go. He'll enjoy it more that night.

Seokjin regretted coming to the dance practice. After only one try at the choreo, he had to sit down with his back against the wall opposite to the mirror. He was out of breath and sweatier than he's never been after one rep. He closed his eyes for a second, fanning himself with his hand as he adjusted the hem of his sweater that rode up when he sat. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve, struggling to regain a steady breath. Dancing hadn't been so strenuous since he started this career.

After a beat, he opened his eyes back again. He stared straight at his reflection and oh.

He had sat with his legs spread out and his belly was making itself home between them. It looked so big in his small sweatshirt that was stretching out to accommodate its size. He was red in the face from the exercise but also out of fluster. He discreetly landed a hand on his belly, feeling up its weight and density. It's there now and it's not going to go away easily.

Jungkook appeared out of nowhere, making Seokjin jump out of his skin. The younger was unphased as he thrusted his hand towards him.

“Come on I'll help you up” he suggested. Nothing in his demeanor seemed to show that he had any clue of what was happening inside Seokjin's head. The older gladly took his hand, he knew it would've been an embarrassing show if he were to get up by himself right now.

Jungkook pulled him up, but not without issue. He was visibly surprised at how heavy Seokjin was, despite it being evident by his current appearance. Nevertheless, he got the older up with a grunt.

“Jeez hyung, you really let yourself go, huh?” he said without any mirth. He sent Seokjin a playful bunny smile before patting his belly two times and turning away towards Jimin to bother him.

Seokjin stood there, suddenly shy at the remark and the gesture. They'd never said anything about his weight until now, so that came out as a surprise.

They all went back to their placement in the choreography but Seokjin hadn't quite recovered from the first rehearsal. And the second time wasn't better.

His belly couldn't help but peak from under his top during the majority of the dance. At first he tried to stop the hem from rising but he quickly gave up as it wasn't his main problem now.

He was struggling to keep up with his new gained weight. He had a hard time accommodating the fact that he took up more space now and that every part of his belly will obviously jiggle and move at every step. But the strain of having to move his heavier thighs, stomach, arms, it felt harder than a workout. He was hot, sweating like crazy, and deeply regretted his choice of coming here. He should've said he was sick.

At the end of it, he spotted a chair near the water bottles and he plopped himself on it, hearing it creak loudly in response. He grabbed a water bottle and downed more than half of it in one go.

“You're having a hard time keeping up huh?” Hoseok said while approaching him. Seokjin usually was scared of Hoseok’s feedback during rehearsals but the other man showed a gentle smile at him with no reproach. “Bet it's harder now with all the…” he seemed to hesitate on his use of words. “Additional struggles. But you'll get there. Even if you don't, we'll be here. Keep doing what you're doing if that makes you happy” he said, ending his phrase quite timidly before going away.

It was strange. Seokjin didn't know how to take what he just got told. Keep doing what you're doing if that makes you happy, was he referring to his obvious overeating and all the weight he's been gaining in so little time?

He didn't get time to ponder on about it too much though.

Out of nowhere, he was stopped by one of the staff members. Seokjin looked at them a bit confused before they told him he was expected to attend a meeting right now down the hall. He was told it was an emergency so, he went.

He thought he was the only called on but apparently Namjoon too, seeing as the younger was following him too. Seokjin looked at him and the other looked back with a shrug and confusion on his face. Seokjin shrugged too but he felt like he knows what it was going to be about.

He kept the hem of his sweatshirt down with his fingers as he walked, the fat of his belly wobbling so much that it was lifting his sweatshirt at every step.

A few minutes after they entered and settled themselves in the meeting room, they finally got told what was up, in a rather blunt way.

“Seokjin, we're not going to blabber for hours, let's go straight to the point. You've gotten fat and we're not going to accept that. We put you through diets that you're obviously not following, are you even conscious about what you're doing? We have to put a stop to this” their manager said.

Namjoon spoke before Seokjin could say anything.

“What are you implying?” the younger said sternly. Seokjin looked at him and saw how tense and angry he was becoming for some reason.

“He has to go on a hiatus until it's fixed.” their manager responded, almost frustrated. “He can't participate in any group activities until he's back to be properly fit for his image”

“Fit for his image?” Namjoon repeated, clearly upset. “I don't see why you're excluding him over something so trivial as weight. He still can do what any other idol can do, it's just ridiculous to put him on a hiatus for that.”

“Namjoon you saw how much he was struggling to keep up with the dance earlier. And it's not even in the hardest ones that you all have. Plus, it's just not acceptable to have a pig amongst the most looked up idols in the industry”

After that, Namjoon became angrier, but it didn't fix anything. They were set on their decision and the meeting ended in defeat for them. Seokjin had to go on hiatus.

He hadn't said a thing during the meeting, because he wasn't that surprised it happened. As he was glad in a way to have a sort of break, he was sad that he'll be the only one. He'll be mostly alone from now on, and the fact that he was also just rejected from the group kinda hurt. What was said about him hurt the most though. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up.

“I promise this is not over hyung. I'll keep fighting for you” Namjoon said, looking straight into his eyes. Seokjin smiled a bit at him.

“Thank you, best leader.” he said in a light tone, making Namjoon huff a laugh for the first time today.

They had to separate at the practice room, since it was soon going to be recorded Seokjin shouldn't be there now. Namjoon patted his shoulder again and said he'll go home as soon as they're done.

That's something that always happened between them, like they could read into each other's mind. The younger knew that Seokjin couldn't handle being alone well when it was imposed like that. The older felt his heart melt when Namjoon told him that.

He then went home to their dorms, alone. The house was so silent it felt weird, and Seokjin didn't quite like that.

He walked slowly to the bathroom and straight up took their scale to weigh himself for the first time in a while.

He stepped on it and had to lean forward a bit to be able to look at the numbers on it over his belly.

247.3 it read.

He had gained so much in so little time, he really wasn't surprised by his predicament. He was a bit disappointed but now he was also starting to get turned on again.

He knew that incessant diets could break someone's metabolism but it still was a lot of weight gain in such little time that he was almost impressed

[imagine-this-doesnt-suck]

Dead Doves were Born to be Eaten

YellowJewl

Summary:

Here is chapter 2/2 of the continuation fic to Sleeping with Spiders, I hope you're happy you little nasties. We're back and gorier than ever It's fucked, real fucked. There is murder, smut, violence, if you are not comfortable with these themes, don't worry it's not going to hurt my feelings if you scroll on by, I'll still love you.

Chapter 2

Their ecological role is to be prey,” said some doctor during a nature documentary, you had only turned on for the background noise. “They are born to be eaten, and humans are just one of their predators. Hunting has not caused any decline in the various dove species.” Its true, the bird's populations remain resilient, mostly because of their prolific reproduction methods. They’re basically flying rabbits. Commonly, producing only a pair of eggs for each nest, a mating pair will produce up to five broods of young annually, nesting from March until November. Eggs take just 2 weeks of incubation to hatch.

So in short you don't feel as bad about hunting them as you once did. The guilt that once weighed down your shoulders like a ton of bricks every time you grabbed your rifle for a hunt, that made you suffer through countless, meatless dinner nights with only the vegetables you grew from your amateur garden and instant ramen you had picked up from your bimonthly trip to town, to fill your stomach, had all passed. You were able to rationalize it now. It was okay.

They were born to die and be eaten.

You inhale a breath of crisp air into your lungs, it smells overwhelmingly like the pine trees surrounding you in this moment. As you exhale you take the time to level your rifle and aim while you prepare to shoot.

Since moving up here, so much has changed in these past few months. A part of you was worried that the isolation would get to you, that years of living in the city in your comfy apartment, would have made you too soft for this life. But in truth you loved it. You found your cabin to be cozy and charming. The chirping of birds and the delicate rustle of the leaves caused by the mountain breeze turned out to be quite relaxing while you painted. As far as finding being lonesome went, well…

He did stop by quite often, so you wouldn't say that you were all alone.

You had met him some months ago, right before you had decided to move up here. Your first meeting was… unconventional to say the least. But he had expressed great interest in your artwork and you found his talents to be quite entertaining as well. You wouldn't call it love, in your opinion you were both just a little bit too twisted for such a sentiment, instead a mutual fascination was born the the night the two of you crossed paths. 

Still, who could say that it was merely fascination that led him to your cabin time and time again, only to end up buried between your thighs, bloodied knife in hand and a breathy moan that resembled your name rolling off his tongue. 

You were grateful for him. For he was the one who awakened the real you. There was an ugly truth within you that your parents had shamed into hiding. The part of you that had only ever been let out of her cage when you painted. The girl who loved gore and horror, the girl who created truly horrific and blood curdling pieces, the girl who's toes curled in ecstasy whenever he would plunge a kitchen knife into your abdomen and slowly cut off your air supply as he choked you with only one hand. 

Being with him was like living, breathing art. A verse by one of the greats,  Being touched by him felt like poetry;

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed

And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.

(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The man was an insatiable sadistic.

And you were a monster.

You entered the log cabin with ease as the door was left open by its former occupant. The strong scent of iron gave away the presence of blood within your home. 

 Without even giving him a glance you let out an amused laugh. "Bringing your work home with you?" You joked.

"Not my home. Your's ." He responds with a smile.

"Hitchhiker or hunter?" You ask, your voice calm and level. It was casual, the conversation had a certain ease to it, as if you were chatting about what you would cook for dinner as you unloaded the groceries. The thought was so sickeningly domestic. 

You dump the dead bird carcasses on your counter.

"Hitchhiker. Picked him up on way here."

He doesn't turn to look at you as he speaks. From the moment you met him, you found the man before you to be unequivocally beautiful. With his raven black hair that falls just above his shoulders in length and frames his pale face and short stature. He was probably just below five foot if you had to guess. But despite his stature he possessed an almost lethal aura about him and when his sharp grey eyes dart to meet yours, fear itself almost made you turn tail and run when you had first encountered him. Now, his back faces you as he hunches over the young man tied and gagged to one of your dining room chairs. 

You approach Feitan from behind, wrapping your arms around his neck and nuzzling him affectionately, "that's hot." You tell him, feeling up his chest from over the long robes he's clothed in.

He grunts. "Mmm..." You continue to nuzzle him while you whisper sweet nothings in his ear. 

With razor sharp precision and speed, your lover plunges the knife into the man, you sigh dreamily. The victim screams out in pain, the stab wound wasn't enough to kill him, it was just deep enough to keep the game going.

In a second chair, you hear a whimper and turn to be greeted with the sight of a young woman, she looks thrown about and frightened. The victim's girlfriend you suspect, sobs as Feitan continues with his torture.

"Stop, please stop!" She begs, "I'll do anything. I'll... I'll give you anything you want." Tears stream down her beet red face, leaving stains of mascara running down her cheeks. A pitiful sight indeed but, one you know the man you are draped over would enjoy quite a bit.

 You turn and smile at her, "hush. He likes it when you scream, I don't recommend it unless you want it to be your turn sooner."

Her pupils dilate in terror as she goes silent, heeding your warning. Leaving the two of you continue to torment the now unconscious man, severing a finger every so often to awaken him from his slumber.

"Let me grab a drink. I'll be right back." You tell him too casually as if the two of you were simply sitting on the couch together watching a movie. You rush to the kitchen and reach into the cupboard to grab something you were saving for a while. Clear liquid sloshes around in the bottle as you giddily rush back to the atrocities in the living room.

You throw your head back as you take a swig of alcohol. It burns your throat on the way down, setting your insides on fire, adding to the heat and excitement you are already feeling.

"Do you enjoy it?"

The question catches you off guard but you quickly recover, "I enjoy every moment I spend with you." You say honestly. You assume he's asking about the work he's brought home and not the small bit of drinking you had indulged in. Though, honestly you do enjoy both. Drinking has become a bit more of a habit for you as you moved out here all alone. And more so since Feitan has so graciously included you in his passion projects. The booze just loosens you up is all, not that you have any inhibitions about your actions but, it does help quiet that still small voice inside that constantly reminds you that you are a monster. Not that you would tell any of this to Feitan.

Feitan looks down at you, surprise finds a home upon his brow. A pair of sharp grey eyes regard you for a moment with such intensity before coming to rest in an amused expression. "You enjoy every moment you spend with me?" He says, his voice showing curiosity, "Then why do you spend so little time with me?" He seems to be in a teasing mood today. A good thing for you.

 You swat his arm and laugh, "because you are always away with your little troupe, doin crime or whatever." You go to take another swig but take a second to drink the moment in instead, strands of raven black hair fall into his face as he leans towards you, smirk peeking out just above his bandana. As your laughter dies down, you feel the slight tinge of pink stain your cheeks.

He reaches his hand out and grabs yours, pulling you close, "I am always away with my little troupe, if I was not, we would see more of each other."

"What do you mean?" The pink in your cheeks fade into a bright cherry red. Something wells up inside you as you ask this question. It's excitement. It's knowing that the next words out of his mouth could mean everything. Could change everything. Up until this moment, you knew the deal, it was just sex accompanied by the mutual enjoyment of the slaughter and gore. You were never going to ask for more but now that the thought was placed in your head, you couldn't help but mull it over. Even you want to feel a connection.

He looks like he's about to reply to your inquiry and you impatiently await his words, when suddenly like nails on a chalkboard, the victim's girlfriend interrupts with her sobbing, "please! Please let us go!" It seems as if she couldn't hold her tongue any longer.

Feitan turns to look at her, a faint smirk on his face. He reaches his hand out and gently squeezes her cheeks as she sobs, forcibly making her purse her lips. "If that is what you want, girly." He says, venom dripping off his sweet words.

You glare at the two as the interaction plays out. Why couldn't the woman just keep quiet? Did she just have to be such an attention whore and ruin your moment? Whatever happened to women supporting women? Annoyed, you pick up a severed finger that the man had lost and walk over to the woman. you frustratedly push past Feitan and stuff the appendage in her mouth and sneer. "There that will shut you up" you say.

She begins to sob as Feitan releases her face, but before she can cough up the foreign object in her mouth, you clap your hand over her mouth and begin to squeeze.

 She begins to choke on the finger.

You let out a delighted chuckle as her eyes start to bulge from their sockets. You make a mental note to try to remember every detail of her now nearly blue face as you think about what a lovely portrait her tear stained visage would make.

Feitan draws you out of your concentration as he wraps his arms around you and begins to feel you up his hand dipping up under your shirt, "you are always so creative" he coos. You feel his other hand wandering down into your pants, but before you can react he begins to squeeze your breasts.

"Ah, you have such nice ones. Pretty little slut" He comments, as he pinches a nipple in between his fingers

 "Horny asshole." You spat before engulfing him in a kiss. The two of you collide in a passionate ferver as you continue to explore each other's bodies, until you have just about felt each other up everywhere.

You moan in ecstasy as you see him grab for his knife. You shiver in anticipation as you await for what you consider the best part of the night.

Your arms tighten around his neck as you move to straddle him. Bucking your hips, you begin to ride him back and forth, the both of you moaning as he tightens his grip on the blade in his hand.

Your fingers tangle themselves into his hair as you try to anchor yourself to reality. Panting, you breathe out, "what was that about wanting to be with me more often?"

"Don't remember…saying that." He grunts out as his fingers dig into your ass cheeks, helping you along as you ride him. He tightens his grip and you swear that he must've drawn blood.

You furrow your brows in frustration. And through the utter ecstasy of being impaled upon the man below you, you stutter out your response, "C-come on. Early- oh fuck yes! Ah! Earlier you at least pretended like you like me " you manage to whine out the words. You feel him stall for a moment. As if your words gave him a reason for pause but, the cold steel finds it's home dangerously close to your jugular.

"I like you... a lot." You are like a deer in the headlights as your eyes widen. You study his face, his demeanor, the tiny subtle movements of his blade, any sign that he was feeding you horse shit. But whether you simply cannot read the man or the woman alone, lost in the woods, wants so desperately to find a connection to anything that she manages to delude herself, you are unable to sniff out the lie

"I like the way you scream." as his knife trails across your jawline. He smirks as the knife flows down your curves line running water. You squeeze your eyes shut and grin wickedly as you fall victim to the extacy of the moment. You scream out as his knife plunges into your stomach. Your back arches as you scream, crying out in pain as your blood pours out of you.

You hear him chuckle. "I think you like the way i cut you up."

"Yes! Yes!" You moan.

He laughs as the blood coats you like a warm blanket.

Your vision begins to blur as you breathe out the forbidden words between you two and whisper, "I love you…"

 You when you finally do awake on your cabin's couch, your wounds are bandaged and the two victims are slumped over in a corner, presumably dead. Feitan meanwhile, is no where to be found.

He must have unsurprisingly ran off. Your fault really. You spooked him, like a deer fleeing from a warning shot. Should have known better than to get too close. Sometimes you just forget yourself though, you start to think of him as a mirror to yourself. Another monster thirsty for blood but seeking something more. But he isn't you. 

You roll off the couch as your stomach growls and you clutch your bandages as you stumble towards the kitchenette. The dove you had shot, waiting patiently for you to turn it into a meal. You recall one time when you had tried to cook dove for Feitan once before. He had just sneered at you, snapping "Don't you ever fucking eat normal food?"

You smile at the memory when you finally make your way to the kitchen table and sit down to eat. And proceed with the day like any other.

The world doesn't stop when Feitan leaves on his trips. You wake up, eat, shower, do your chores around the cabin and garden, hunt, check your traps, and find time to paint. 

Speaking of chores, after you dump your dirty dish into the sink, you set out on cleaning up the mess from the day before. As you leave the cabin you toss your gun sling over your back, figuring you might be able to shoot a few doves down in your downtime. Grabbing a wheelbarrow and shovel you push it towards your front door and begin to load up. You make a point to do these sort of chores in the morning, or else the smell starts to become too bad. 

You wheel your load past your garden and closer to the tree line. You grab your shovel and begin to dig. Birdsong serenades you as sweat beads on your forehead as you work. It has been unusually hot this time of year, normally summer would have already began to make way for autumn by this time past years. Which reminds you, you should probably try to down a few bucks before the end of the season this year. You don't want to be all out of food halfway through winter. Some deer could do you some good.

When you finally decide that the hole is deep enough, you drop your shovel and stretch. Cracking your back as you do so and letting out a yawn. After this you might just take a nap, you deserve it after all.

Turning back to the wheel barrow, you're finally ready. You loop your arms up under the corpse's armpits and pull him from the wheel barrow. He's a bit heavy and you nearly tip over as you drag him towards the hole. You curse yourself for letting him leave you with this part of the job time and time again. He's just like a little kid, refusing to put away his toys after playing. At the edge of the small pit you have the body off the edge and hear it drop to the bottom with a final thud.

You stare at the body in the hole. A bit disappointed, if you had to admit. The scene was just so un-picturesque. Of course, with you having to practically push after dragging, his nearly bloated corpse into the pit, didn't leave much room for the most graceful landing. His face is obscured by the soil that it's buried in, his hind quarters curled awkwardly towards the sky. More humiliating for the dead man than it is eye-catching to you. 

Oh well, time to dump the girlfriend in the pit.

Learning from your past mistakes, you grab the handles of the wheelbarrow in hopes that it would be easier to chuck the second body down the hole this way. After pushing it to the very edge of the pit, you are ready to lift the back end up, until you hear a quiet whimper break through the quiet sounds of nature surrounding you.

You stop cold in your tracks. 

She's still alive.

A strangled sob escapes her and your blood runs cold. This is a first. It's not like Feitan to leave any bodies breathing before leaving your cabin. " Help m-" she chokes on her words along with the blood she coughs up. What are you supposed to do? You're in broad daylight out in open, merely yards away from your cabin's garden. And you've never done this alone. She looks so much more frail with the sun reflecting on her pale sunken skin. When her clouded eyes meet yours, you all but keel over yourself. "You have to help me please."

Unable to break eye contact, you shake your head. "I can't." The woman looks almost ethereal, velvet red blood spilling over her violet bruised lips framed by skin so ghostly, it's practically translucent. As soon as you spoke, her brows knit themselves in distress. Her once comatose limbs rise out of the wheelbarrow like the undead breaking free from the earth. You stumble backwards, away from her as climbs out, you hastily grab your rifle from your back. "My boyfriend he-" on doe like legs she stumbles about looking around frantically until her eyes land on the pit. She drops to her knees. "No…"

You take a tentative step towards her, rifle still raised, as if she truly were a deer that you didn't want to scare off. She's crying, staring into the abyss of her late lover's grave. "What do I- he's gone. He's gone. What do I do?" She's in hysterics when she turns to you.

"Did you love him?" You don't know where the question comes from but it spills out of you none the less. You are met with a gaze you are unable to define. "I guess you could say, love someone too, " you tell her as you step closer to her. 

"Please, please help me." She begs once more. "If you- you say love someone so you- please I don't want to die." Weeping and barely comprehensible. You know what she's asking. She wants you to help her escape. She most likely believes that Feitan will return and make sure she shares her boyfriend's final resting place. And of course, she would need your help, there's no way she would be able to make it out of the forest herself, especially injured and lacking in supplies. 

Some might argue that it would be an act of mercy to allow death to take her instead, like a wounded deer needing to be put out of it's misery, instead of dropping her off at the nearest township.

You are also aware that if she were to ever make it out of these woods, the cabin would be compromised. Even if you were to swear, or scare, her to secrecy, there is no way she would not go seeking medical help, they would start asking questions. The most pressing being the whereabouts of her boyfriend. And that could lead to the authorities looking for Feitan. What if all of this lead to him not coming back to the cabin because he no longer saw it as safe anymore.

The barrel of the gun comes to rest in the middle of her forehead.

Realization hits her like a ton of bricks. Her blood and tear stained face contorts as she she shifts violently from the bargaining phase to anger. "No! You can't do this! You- you monster!"

A soft smile lands on your lips, "I know. But even monsters want to feel a connection." 

A blast rings through the forest. Birds flee from their trees and take to the sky. A corpse falls gracefully into its grave. And you are left with the image of the ethereal woman sprawled across their lover, the picture finally completed, made multitudes better as you stare down the hole at the ghastly image. It will make a lovely painting, you note to grab your sketchbook before night fall so you can capture the sight later.

For now, you take the handles of the wheelbarrow and turn it around, heading towards your cabin's modest garden. You can hear the mourning dove's song above you, as the birds have begun to return to the area after the gunshot rang out. 

The guilt that briefly weighed down your shoulders like a ton of bricks when you were first faced with killing the girl had passed now.You were able to rationalize it now. It was okay.

Sometimes, like doves, people were born to die.

[abby-the-druid]

Love Language 3

In which Naruto defends innocence.

“So, wait, have you, like, not done it before?” Sasuke’s voice was low, his hand was still kind of resting on her cheek from plucking a soft pink eyelash from her skin, the other was resting at the waistband of her jeans, fingers not so innocently pressing her skin underneath.

Sakura inhaled, glanced away from him, words on the tip of her tongue, when the front door slammed open.

“Honey! I’m home!” Naruto’s voice resonated through the kitchen, and at the sound Sakura felt her cheeks flush with warmth almost frantically pulling her legs off of Sasuke’s lap. “Oh! Sakura-chan’s shoes are here. Bastard you better not be tainting our lovely Sakura-chan!” the blond head of their best friend poked around the door, and in Sakura’s rush to meet his gaze with as much innocence as possible she mostly missed the dusting of pink on Sasuke’s cheeks and the removal of his hand from her hip.

Naruto’s blue eyes narrowed, darting from Sasuke’s hand still poised in the air near Sakura’s face, to the woman’s crimson cheeks, and finally noting the way their knees were touching on the orange couch.

“Bastard,” his eyes slipped to his friend, a single blond brow high on his forehead. “Why are you so close to Sakura-chan?”

Sakura’s green gaze flowed to Sasuke, and she was surprised to see that he had already fought the dusting of pink away, his face had fallen into a mask of neutrality as he lifted his hand in the air.

“She had an eyelash that was bothering her, so I removed it.” He shrugged and before Naruto could demand proof, Sasuke dropped his hand and wiped the lash onto his jeans.

“Ah,” Naruto’s face screwed up a little. “You never sit that close to me to examine my eyes when I have something in them.”

“Yea because you’re a loser.” Sasuke replied smoothly, shifting to stand, and shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I'm gonna do some studying, I’ll catch you guys later.” he said evenly, moving to leave the room.

“Uh, Sasuke!” Sakura peeped, the black-haired man stopped and looked at her from the periphery of his glasses. She both wanted Naruto to fuck right off so they could continue their conversation, so she could nuzzle back into his lap and his warmth, but she was also kind of terrified that once that particular conversation happened that maybe things wouldn’t be so easy between them.

Easy besides hiding their maybe kind of sort of definitely probably relationship from all of their friends and families.

“Thanks for getting that damn thing out of my eye.” She said lamely. He nodded and stepped out of the room.

Naruto’s blue eyes glazed over her, but whatever signs he was looking for Sakura wasn’t certain. He shifted so that his hands were knotted behind his head. “Don’t mind the bastard,” he said easily, smiling. “He’s always kind of weird like that. He takes after his dad.”

“I remember Fugaku,” Sakura said quietly, mind bringing forth images of an severely intense man.

“Oh yea, I forgot we were all in school together for fourth grade before you guys moved.” He chuckled. “Fugaku never changed.” Naruto seemed to contemplate something for a brief moment, before shaking his head and nodding towards the door. “Are we still on to go to the movies? Lazy Ass texted and said he and Temari were coming along too.”

She supposed Lazy Ass was another one of their odd friend names and shrugged. “Yea, I’m still down to go.” She tucked a few pieces of bubblegum pink hair behind her ear. “Did Sasuke not want to go too?”

“No idea,” Naruto said, shuffling into the kitchen. “He never comes along to these things anyways, so I kind of stopped asking him about it years ago.” He kept talking from the other room, and Sakura heard him rummaging through cupboards and the iconic pop of a top of instant ramen and the faucet running shortly thereafter. He stepped back into the room and leaned against the wall as the microwave hummed. “I suppose we could ask him though, if you want.” His blue eyes rested on her too clearly and then he grinned. “Though from what I remember he never did like romcoms anyway.”

“Is that what we’re going to see?”

“Yea, I think Hinata and Ino decided which one this time. There was talk of it maybe being a scifi flick, but I have no idea. I just like seeing her smile.” His face grew tender, a calm smile and almost wistful eyes, and Sakura’s heart squeezed a little at her friends' happiness. They were quiet until the microwave beeped, and before he walked away to get his food, he nodded towards the short hallway.

“Sasuke’s door is on the left, if you want to invite him. I’m gonna eat really quick, we’ve got maybe 30 minutes to get there.”

She nodded, and stood, stretching a little as she stepped towards the hallway. This was the first time she had been past the common areas of the apartment and her heart fluttered a little nervously in her chest.

She knocked delicately on the door, for some reason feeling quite anxious about maybe intruding on his personal space. Barely a heartbeat passed when she heard him mutter “come in” and she opened the door and hesitantly took a step inside.

The room wasn’t really what she expected it to be. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated the walls which were covered in a collage of posters, band advertisements, comic book characters, shitty drawings that were drawn by his friends, and photography depicting said friends and nature. Sasuke was sitting at his desk, laptop and notes open, and his glasses were pushed on the top of his head while he rubbed at his eyes.

“What’s up?” he ended up yawning before wiping a final time at his face and situating his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose.

Sakura, who was still taking in the room, noting there were a few thriving pothos sitting on the ledge of the window his desk faced and another on a bookshelf that was near collapse from the sheer number of books, comics, and notebooks stuffed on its suffering shelves. She inhaled, a mix of salt water and pine filled her lungs, before she pasted on a smile. “We’re going to the movies; I didn't know if you wanted to come along or not.”

The young man swiveled in his chair to face his computer while waving a hand towards his bed before his fingers clacked on the keyboard. “What movie are you guys going to see?”

She gingerly sat down on the blood red duvet on his bed and eyed the pile of plush pillows stacked invitingly against the wall. “I’m not actually sure, I guess Hinata and Ino are picking, and Naruto said it’s some kind of romcom that might be a scifi crossover?”

“Is it that Astral Ocean movie?”

“I have no idea, but I guess we only have like 30 minutes to decide.”

He went ahead and googled the movie title, and seemingly satisfied with the synopsis to some capacity, simply shrugged. “Sure, I guess. I just have to change.”

Sakura shifted on the bed and Sasuke shook his head. “You’re fine.” She settled back into her original position and attempted not to stare dumbly at him when he stripped his black t-shirt off over his head and stepped over to a pile of clothes on his floor.

He stretched over, skin pulled taught along the edges of his shoulder blades, lifting a few different pieces of fabric to his nose, wrinkling it and tossing them into a different pile before finding one that passed his requirement and slipped the fabric on and hiding his soft, pale skin from her vision. Sakura swallowed and looked down at her fingers, picking at the skin in her nail beds.

The bed shifted beside her as Sasuke sat down. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him yet, the brief view of his skin had sent her heart throbbing in a way she didn’t quite know was possible. He reached out to her with tender hands and tilted her chin until she was looking at him. His touch was warm, breath fanning along her pinkening cheeks, as his eyes darted around her face. Looking into her eyes, her mouth, and her eyes again. He dipped closer, mouth slanting against hers, black fringe tickling along her nose and cheekbones. Her tongue had only just gained entrance to his mouth when:

“There’s absolutely no way you’re still plucking an eyelash off of her skin.”

Sasuke and Sakura jumped apart, hearts racing and flushing, necks snapping around to look at Naruto, who was leaning innocently enough against the open frame of Sasuke’s door. He had a playful smile on his mouth, a blond brow raised at them in a challenge.

“Loser,” Sasuke turned away from his roommate, lips pursed in an almost pout. “What d’you want?”

The blond laughed and bounded into the room, throwing himself in the sliver of space between Sasuke and Sakura. Before either of them could stop him, he reached out with both arms to tug them each into a one-armed hug.

“You’re not even going to deny it! You’re not even going to deny it!” Naruto sang, placing a kiss onto Sasuke’s temple and then another onto Sakura’s between laughs.

“I never denied it,” Sasuke shot back, trying but failing to hide his own smile.

Sakura squirmed a little in Naruto’s strong grasp and grumbled quietly at him “You didn’t even ask my opinion on what was happening earlier.”

“Oh, oh,” Naruto turned his megawatt smile on her. “What’s your opinion on what was happening earlier??” he let go of their necks and half-heartedly tickled her sides.

“Naruto!” She giggled and Sasuke sat up and pushed his hair back into some semblance of order. “We were totally making out dirty style.” She tried to employ some type of seriousness in her voice, but she was laughing too hard.

“Ew,” Naruto playfully pulled away from her. “How could you ever taint the innocence of our little bastard?” he turned to look at Sasuke, reaching out to him. “What has she done to you my sweet angel?”

“As if Sasuke is the innocent one here.” Sakura joked as Sasuke pushed Naruto’s hands away.

“Ahh you’re right I already ruined him when I gifted him my uncle’s Icha Icha series.”

“Wait you gifted him the series?” Sakura’s jaw dropped and eyes widened. “Wait, Jiraya is your uncle!? Can I meet-”

“No!” Sasuke and Naruto said simultaneously.

Sakura scowled and Naruto wrinkled his nose and made a face at Sakura that made her smile.

“Yea he’s totally a perv,” Naruto added, scratching at a whiskered cheek as he stretched out his legs. “Never in my life would I introduce you to him, he’ll get all handsy, and just blech.”

Sasuke stood, scooped a large grey striped hoodie from his floor, and stepped over to his computer, tapping on the mousepad before shifting around to look at Naruto. “Didn’t you say we only had like 30 minutes until the movie starts?”

“Shit, what time is it?” Naruto pulled out a battered cell phone, blue eyes growing wide. “Shit, yea, I’ll drive us!” The blond skittered out of the room to grab his wallet, keys, and shoes. A second later a thud sounded as he skidded into a wall. “Fuck, ouch.”

Sakura smiled shaking her head as Sasuke offered her his hand. “Is it okay that Naruto knows?” she asked tentatively, taking his digits and smoothing out her oversized sweater.

Sasuke brushed her hair out of her face, letting his fingers gently untangle some of the soft pink strands, eyes tracing along her skin. He shrugged. “He knows what Fugaku is like.” Both of his hands came up to cup her jaw, thumbs brushing over her earlobes. “He’ll keep quiet.”

She nodded at him, and he met her mouth again briefly.

“Jesus, guys, stop making out! We have to go!” Naruto called from the kitchen. The pair shared a smile with each other before separating and jogging after their friend.

[bizkitsnuggets]

CIGARETTES... AND FISH.

masterlist.

[Y/N] was always taught to never give up by her family. If there is an obstacle blocking your way, make a new one! She took that word for word.

And now here she is, arriving extra early at school in pursuit of finding Jotaro so she can discuss the project with him. It's honestly crazy how she has to go to such lengths just because this guy was being stubborn as always.

The girl patiently waited in her seat for her project partner to arrive. It didn't take a genius to know that he only came early so he could have a quick smoke before class started. [Y/N] fiddled the hem of her skirt as she watched the sliding doors of her classroom intensely.

She shut down her other senses except for vision. If she was having a stare off battle with someone, she'd win no questions asked.

And finally, his tall build emerged. [Y/N] immediately stood up and walked towards him.

"Hey, Kujo—"

But before she could even greet him properly, he scoffed at her and left the classroom. Honestly, he might as well have just rolled his eyes while doing the scoff because that shit was uncalled for. [Y/N] clenched the hem of her skirt, making it wrinkle.

What an asshole...

Oh man, if you think [Y/N]'s going to give up because of that then shame on you. This was a sign to continue the goose chase.

"Alright class, go have your lunch". The teacher announced it instead of the school bell. The school bell was broken because apparently someone threw a hammer at it. [Y/N] pulled out her wallet from her bag and then headed out to 7/11.

What should I buy this time? Katsu? Or maybe instant ramen...

She was thinking to herself when she saw a trail of smoke from the short-cut route. She instantly knew who it was, his intense smell of cologne gave it away too. She braced herself before going into the alley way, making sure all her nerves were working well. She inhaled deeply and made her way in.

And there he is. Just casually smoking away with no care in the world. "Kujo!" She called out to him, gaining his attention. "Before you lea—" Suddenly, the cigarette that he was smoking was thrown right in front of her feet.

[Y/N] looked at the intimate object in disbelief. Not only did he litter the damn place, he also could've (almost) burnt her shoes. And just like that, he brushed past her shoulder and headed back to school. Acting as if nothing happened. Acting as if [Y/N] was just a ghost.

[Y/N] didn't know who raised him, she didn't know who gave him that toddler behavior but it was starting to really make her blood boil.

I mean— it's just ridiculous!

The girl thought to herself as she munched on her katsu. Who would've thought that the school's infamous edgy boy acts like a kid who got his toy taken away. He's almost eighteen for crying out loud! [Y/N] was visibly frustrated at his actions and him in general as she is seen to aggressively chew on her food. The cashier in the store silently judged her.

After she's done with her food, she threw away the remaining trash and headed back to class. The girl was in a pretty bad mood now, it was obvious. She waddled through the ocean of students with a frown on her face. Unintentionally glaring at the people who bumped into her.

As she sat down on her chair and made herself comfortable, she took out her sketchbook and pencil. Drafting a drawing of a bluefin tuna. It seems like drawing said fish was now a muscle memory for her. Whenever she was bored, infuriated, confused, or relieved, she'd draw a bluefin tuna. It didn't make any sense to her.

Why? Why this fish?

[Y/N] had asked herself this question a million times despite knowing that there's not gonna be an  answer. People wouldn't look at this fish and go, "Oh my! What an interesting specimen!" Sure, it was unique in size but it doesn't top the other riveting fishes in bodies of water.

A bluefin tuna is a fish you'd see in an aquarium in a seafood restaurant, ready to be cooked and eaten. It's a fish you'd see being caught in a sailor's boat. There's nothing special to it.

Regardless, [Y/N]'s hand will immediately sketch the basic structure of it whenever she picks up any tool that allows her to draw.

School was over. And [Y/N] is approaching her small home that her parents rented. She'd been living alone since she turned fifteen. Her parents insisted so that she could learn to be independent. It definitely worked, but it gets a little lonely sometimes.

[Y/N]'s parents would send her money that was enough to last her a month. And when the girl was short in some, she would volunteer to work in her auntie's tea shop. It's unfortunate that her auntie didn't live near [Y/N]. The tea shop was her side job, her main job was in Osaka.

It was quiet when [Y/N] entered her house, which is normal. She locked the door and went to grab her now dried up clothes from the clothes rack and put them in a medium sized basket. Once she's done, she dumps the basket of clothes onto her coffee table and goes into her room to retrieve her dirty clothes and put them into the washing machine.

[Y/N] plopped herself on her couch and began to fold her clothes. She didn't have many therefore it didn't take a long time for her to finish.

"Man... how do I make that damn Kujo work with me..." She settled herself on her bed as she stared at the ceiling. She goes silent as the evening light settles in her room, making it a pretty tangerine mixed with a crimson color.

"Wait! That's it!" She sat up from her lying position. "I'll bribe him!"

Wait, stupid. Bribe him with what?

Her inner voice argued with her. Making her plop back down on her bed with a sigh. She barely talked to him, let alone know what kind of things he likes. And this wasn't a secret Santa thing, she couldn't just buy something emo-like from Ikea and give it to him.

No, she had to think about it. Really, really think about it.

What does Jotaro like? Belts, she could buy him another belt. But he already has too much. Tank tops, but that would seem like she's buying clothing for her "boyfriend". A new hat maybe?

Heh. I should buy him a woman repeller.

[Y/N] snickered to herself. That didn't last long when an imaginary light bulb light up beside her head with a small 'ding!' noise.

"Cigarettes!"

"I'll buy him the pack of cigarettes he—"

That's right. [Y/N] didn't know what brand of cigarettes Jotaro usually munches on. She turned around and was now lying on her stomach. "Fuck!" Her muffled scream rang through the house. This was going to be harder than she thought.

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A/N !!

Oh mannn, what brand of cigarettes does Jotaro like yeah??

Anyways, have a great day <33

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Bonus —

She stayed silent momentarily before getting up and putting on her favorite jacket and a pair of jeans on. Making sure to take her wallet and keys along the way.

The girl unlocked the door and headed out to a nearby shop.

As she pushed the door open, making the bell on top of it rang, an old lady greeted her.

"Hello ma'am, is there a chance that you sell cardboard here?" [Y/N] asked her. "Oh my! Of course. Come with me" The old lady guided [Y/N] to a storage room full of cardboard and empty boxes.

Wow. There's a lot.

She began to walk around the room, searching for the perfect cardboard to use. "Oh, I'll take this one please".

The old lady smiled kindly at her and nodded. "How much?"[Y/N] asked as they made their way to the counter. "No need to pay for it dear, have a nice evening and be careful alright?"

"Huh? really?"

The old woman nodded in confirmation. "Thank you ma'am! Please take care!" [Y/N] bowed and left the store.

[hellogirlslikegirlslikeboysdo]

You ever regret an idea that was never yours? - A Flash Memoir

Summary: In 5 billion years, all of the lights will go out, and all of this will be all the less nasty and all the less disappointing.

All we can hear is the clang of my fork against the measuring cup (I've just realized that you've served me ramen in a measuring cup, ramen because in a house overflowing with farmer's market-looking ingredients, you wanted instant ramen that you didn't even want because the green packaging looked too unfamiliar, and in a measuring cup because you're fucking hilarious and the array of kitschy, bright bowls that I'm sure are lining the shelves behind those high cabinets simply do not appeal to you in this moment).

I don't know if you can hear the football game 10 feet away, you probably can, but I can't. I usually hear everything, all the time, at all volumes, simultaneously. Simba's panting. The shuffling of the cushions we're suffocating. The crunch of gummies (well, really I just smell that one, but I smell loud enough to hear it). For some anxiety-induced reason, I only have access to dishware unwillingly mingling (I can practically hear my dad's complaint at the sound) and the sound of my own voice.

All dinner, it's been asking you questions, but the only one I remember is what you do in your free time, which transforms into what you look forward to on a day off in search of a more satisfying answer. I ask to start conversation, and to be an interesting guest that you actively want to bring over again, and because you like getting philosophical during 1am manic episodes and I lack the awareness to consider those being special circumstances, and because I'm vaguely worried about how much time you spend scrolling memes you've already saved and already scrolled.

Probably something that can be dealt with later, but this is your weekend trip and you're quiet, and I'm worried, even if it's the ever-encompassing buzz of worry that floats around whenever I'm...around.

You don't respond to "Luc, do you ever..." (a pause of regret) "...do you ever feel...trapped by where you are in life? Like, what you have to do, and all that?". I apologize and regret spoiling your trip and you tell me that your "...social battery is kinda low?"

"[Oh, fuck,] really?" (I don't swear outside of my writing, but the fuck is implied).

Hunched into yourself and tiptoeing like you're headed to timeout, You scurry off to your room at my request and assurance to go talk your boyfriend to sleep, giving me a chance to inhale the rest of a ramen like a vicious animal and chat your mother's ear off about historical creative nonfiction and get worried (sensing a theme, yet?) about your social battery having enough juice for him. It's jealousy, probably, burning the back of my throat more than the accidental heap of chili flakes I threw into the broth, because I've never met a friend's lover that I haven't wanted to eat alive and envy is one of the deadlier sins.

Same face, though. Same itchy voice, same manufactured laugh as punctuation, same brain to pick apart. Same scalp to soothe.

(He's judgy, foul-tempered, foul-mannered, and calculated, stubby pointer finger in hand at all times. So am I. I'd probably want a fresher face to look at too.)

[b0kksu]

Upon returning to the dorms of Tokyo's Jujutsu Tech after a solo mission, Satoru would find googly eyes not only pasted to the front of his bedroom door but all over the inside of his room. Googly eyes of various sizes taped to pillow cases, the inside of his closet, on the window, and on every item sitting upon his desk. Although he was not busy with a mission of his own, Suguru was coincidentally no where to be found.

                 The weight upon his body was crushing, all his mind could think of was the new ramune scented bath salts, slipping into the hot stream && fading away. Only to collapse upon the mountain of pillows && slumber for eternity. Lanky frame that moves, sliding the shoji doors open, then he stands there inhaling sharply. What is this? Even his plushies are covered in moving eyes, Suguru wouldn’t have - then he dashes opening one of the spare cabinets && shrieking. The new can of soaking salts, google eyes, pasted on it! Bristling, the end of his ivory hair stood up as he moved, where is Suguru!? This couldn’t be Shoko’s work, there were no traces of ashes && the smell of her clove cigarettes wafting on the bedding. Even Patamon had a set of moving eyes! What was this new hell he had managed to step into!?  There went the peaceful slumber, hot bath, eating copious amounts of spicy instant ramen until he knocked out into the broth. Scurrying to the hallway, the sound of his screeching immature yells echoed, “How could you!?” in one hand, the beloved plushie was held.

          “Patamon did nothing wrong! Is this because I said digimon is far more sophisticated than pokemon could ever hope to be!?”  

[metamelonisle]

"what if kirby was in dragon ball super" he would be eating so much delicious food. he'd be in heaven. he would be chilling with goku and eating instant ramen. he would see beerus and mistake him for hyness. he would play with majin buu and they'd try to pretend to be each other. trunks and goten would play volleyball with him. bulma would hold him like a plushie and shake him. vegeta would pretend he thinks kirby is just some guy and isn't really that cute but then they put a vegeta wig on him and he gets so mad because he thinks its adorable but also pride-shattering. piccolo would be completely unable to stop himself from stoically fawning over him. gohan would let pan play with him all the time. he would also be surprised and wowed by pan's drawings of kirby's friends and want to meet buggzy afterwards because the entomologist in him cant resist the chance to meet Giant Bug Wrestler With Lots Of Fun Stories. chichi would dress him in snazzy little outfits and get mad at him for trying to eat the ingredients while they're cooking. chaozu and ESP kirby try to have a competition for who can lift up the heaviest rock while tenshinhan judges them. roshi says nothing but just nods in approval whenever he sees him (they think its because he is proud of kirby's kind heart and drive for peace and spiritual fulfillment. it is because kirby is bald). kuririn is surprised that someone from such a different world could be so much like his best friend, and is elated to see yet another silly goof join the party. marron wants to doodle all his copy abilities. lazuli (18) is just there vibing and tempted to see how kirby would react if she waved a cat toy in front of him (she thinks he will try to grab it like a cat. she is right). lapis (17) would think of him as a neat fantastic little creature, and would swear to protect him like he protects the other creatures on monster island. (they'd both be disturbed by inhale until they see the guy kirby just copied pop out no worse for wear like 12 feet away). yamcha would tell kirby story after story about how cool he is, and kirby would believe all of them completely and it would be hilarious. puar and oolong would both get in a circle with him and all three just start shapeshifting into each other without saying anything for 5 minutes straight. yajirobe would remind kirby of dedede (gruff foodie with a good heart) and meta knight (mysterious traveling ronin who is arguably the best swordsman alive) and he would instantly wanna be the guy's friend. karin would play with him like a yarn ball. kami would try to pawn off the title of God onto him until remembering kirby is like. vague kid-hero age and still has a life to lead and the world to see. king kai would be so fucking mad that goku brought another freeloader onto his planet to break his stuff and eat his food but would begrudingly admit that Yes He Is Very Cute And Silly But Get Him Out Of My House Right This Second Or So Help Me. dedede is so confused at where kirby went or why there's an orange crystalline ball on his bed with four stars in it and freak out when he turns it and the stars don't change their position or angle

[keshimasu]

hizashi looks good - as if he ever looked anything but. the look of someone well put together. maybe a little tired around the eyes, those unnaturally bright green eyes, from late night shows. he'd grown up a bit. gained that dumb mustache that shouta had hated on sight as soon as he'd spotted it from a distance. perfectly shaped into two distinct pieces that always made him think it had to be stiff with gel like hizashi's hair when it somehow defied gravity. it seems like he'd done just fine for himself. shouta belatedly, insecurely despite words saying otherwise, wonders if he had really been missed.

nemuri graduated before them and shouta had ditched his phone for a cheap did nothing more than call convenience store one. keeping their numbers or contact them had never occured to him. it wasn't like he'd made it easy to find him. moved away from ua, slept out of sight during the day, worked at night, never remained in one spot for too long. sometimes a radio or coffee shop speaker would play hizashi's show. magazines once talked about midnight being the influence behind a new costume law that he'd been unable to resist buying to read about it.

"i should...get a drink." he'd been so distracted seeing such an old friend he'd forgotten. if he were a better kinder person, more of a hero, he would offer to pay for ramen. they'd been so often each order is near burned in his brain. oboro's included. shouta clears his throat, standing quickly yet catching foot on the table leg. as awkward as if he was trying to flirt with a stranger. hero work is easy. people are hard.

he gets coffee because hizashi must be nuts for getting a cold drink in such weather. or shouta's clothes just aren't as warm as leather. more likely that and the chill seeps uncomfortably into his bones. but he's well used to that by now. posture is perfectly normal, no shifted weight or limp, just pitched a bit forward like anyone who worked night shifts would. the smell of crispy garlic, onion and beef makes his mouth water. despite 'help' from the commission getting him an apartment and an advance from ua for teaching supplies along with classes, it hurts looking at prices. even the ones he knows he can logically afford.

it could all be ripped away in an instant. an accident. shouta grips the cup a bit too tightly, sips enough to burn his tongue and returns to the table. thankfully he's swallowed by the time hizashi opens his mouth. dark eyes widen in surprise and he still only narrowly avoids choking on an inhale. too open, too obvious. . .they hadn't truly spoken in years and the blond is comfortable saying that? and shouta had reacted.

his own parents had made it vehemently clear they weren't proud of him. he'd done plenty of things undeserving of pride. things that could risk his license. why? what had shouta done that was worthy of such praise? hizashi worked three jobs, he taught the next generation of heroes not to make their same mistakes.

coffee stings already sensitive tongue even though there would have been no time to respond if he'd had something to say. as quickly as they'd changed, his eyes narrow in innate suspicion. of course the hero network would have records of his career he just hadn't considered anyone paid it any mind. he was supposed to be running under the radar. maybe that was why nezu had agreed to an application that wasn't even really his. "i don't want a name for myself," he grumbles, tone only marginally less annoyed than if someone had rudely woken him up.

"they're exagerrating. you know how people like to blow things out of proportion." yes his efficacy and number likely outdid some other underground pros. he hadn't been aiming for such praise and prestige. the more villains he caught the more he got paid. it was just a consequence of things that he'd evidently drawn attention. unwanted attention. coils of cloth shift as his shoulders raise, making it easier to duck face into. drink made him hot that had to be why he suddenly feels like he's overheating. "shut up. you've got a...a show, how's that?"

there were truths in life, facts about things that could not be moved or swayed in any direction. because that was the nature of things, the way it just was ; there is a truth to hizashi's life that he lost both of his best friends in the span of a year. there is an argument, born out of anger and hurt to contradict that, to correct that truth in saying he lost them both altogether. because did he ever truly have shouta as a "best friend" when oboro was killed? was eraserhead-in-training ever living for himself, or was he living as a vessel to achieve impossible perfection? a means to correct the past by controlling the future, in white knuckles from being held onto so tightly?

that once-teenager with all his messy hair and poor sleeping and training habits had evolved into a an exact replica, only older. a tired-looking sort of man, all those poor habits now beginning to become somewhat evident in his appearance. he may not know shouta as well as he once did, and hell if he even did know him as much as he previously assumed - but he knew that familiar expression of discomfort.

he knew raven truly must’ve believed he wasn’t cut out for this new teaching gig, and getting so far out of his probably-typical comfort zone must’ve been particularly grating for him. the others did their best to bring some sort of ease of mind to him in the workplace, and the supplemental classes might've (hizashi hopes) helped, but there's still that general avoidance. that all too familiar way about eraser that only cemented after that day ; that way of turning cheek that made hizashi's very guts twist and writhe with emotion.

still, that urge to keep reaching out never really went away. it never devolved into nothingness. and he couldn't find it in himself to walk away from that desire to take up that seat again, right by his side as his best friend, if that same seat was even existent.

buuut, blondie’s not known for making the best decisions when it came to his social life, especially when it came to the one man who unmade him before anyone else. and now, hizashi was the teacher. the senior over his coworker. he took it seriously, but now he’d put his foot down in his mind and take it seriously again at a different angle : sincerity. it was blond’s fault in all his fumbling to find a common ground with a ghost, that he'd have to forget and learn again. no matter. this right here would turn it all around. 

it was time to let sleeping dogs lie. he’d learn him all over again, no matter how long it took, no matter how much whittling he'd have to do again. he'll tell him about his life, and maybe shouta would do the same. they'll exchange stories about epic fights between villains, he'll learn of a new (probable) batshit crazy schedule that shouta lives by, and in turn eraser'll have to sit and listen through present mic in all his rambling.

and so he smiles, bringing straw to his mouth to take a sip of his sugary concoction of a fountain drink. 

“ i’m proud of you, y’know. might be a bit weird to say, but i am. “ thoughtful eyes bore deep into companion, analyzing and taking note of every little movement from miniscule to overt. he doesn’t give him a chance to reply, but he does drop his volume to be heard between only the two of them amidst a busy cafe. “ eraserhead’s been making a name for himself amongst the heroes and higher-ups. talk of a high success rate, ‘one of the most, if not the most, capable nighttime heroes.’ “ voice shifts from his own to a classic news reporter’s tone, and back — he was always one to keep it light. divert attention to his true feelings with humor. small chuckle, warm and adoring.

" you're rattling the stars, out there. "

but if all of hizashi truly wasn't what shouta wanted at the end of the day, then he'd find out here and now, and only then would he learn to truly let go. maybe that would be the closure he'd need. or maybe he'd just go back to admiring from a distance, hoping that life treats his once-friend kinder.

[jungk0oksthighs]

Pi Gasu | Divine Sinner pt.2

Pairing - jungkook x reader

Genre - smut, angst, E2L, vampire!jungkook

Word Count - 5.5k

You need money and Jungkook needs you. Warnings: swearing, mentions of terminal illness, blood, vampires, violence, threats, needles, smutty / sexual undertones, non-descriptive smut, f. masturbation

SERIES COLLECTION

This is the time of week you dread the most, a Saturday afternoon at 2PM when your mother calls from your hometown. You moved away for college, and your family couldn’t argue with that decision since you’re a full scholarship student with top grades and a promising future in Nursing. You’ve always loved helping people, so nursing seemed like the obvious career path for you to go down. And your family were nothing but supportive of that decision, until your twin brother got sick.

“How is he doing today?” You sigh, legs crossed on your modest grey fabric sofa with your phone tucked between your shoulder and chin, using your hands to stir a freshly made instant ramen pot.

“Today is a good day… He keeps asking when you’re coming home to see him.” Your mother’s voice is soft, whispered as though she doesn’t want to wake your brother Eddie. She’s probably at his bed side right now, as she usually is.

The guilt trip tugs at your heart strings but you have to be honest with your mother about your finances. You inhale, preparing for her to spark another argument. It's always the same.

“I can’t afford to come back home this month, hopefully next month if I can pick up some more shifts at the care home—”

“Y/N.” Her voice is stern and you wince on instinct alone. “You said the same thing last month. What happened to that new job offer you had?”

Ah yes. That job offer. Your stomach churns at the thought.

“It… It fell through last minute, I promise I’m trying. I want to see him too.”

“Weren’t they supposed to give you a down payment or something?” Your mom reminds you and you click your tongue, cocking your head to one side when you grab your phone. They were supposed to give you a down payment. One thousand dollars for telling the truth about your medical history.

But it’s been two weeks and you’re yet to receive it.

“Uh, yeah… I’ll chase that up actually. I’ll call again later I really have to go, give my love to Eddie please, tell him I miss him and love him more than anything.”

Your voice wavers with disappointment directed at nobody but yourself, but truthfully every phone call with your mother is a struggle. Her guilt trips, constant reminders of Eddie’s rapidly declining health, the questions, the judgments, all of it.

“Bye Y/N.” She abruptly ends the call, and you groan in frustration before chucking your phone onto the sofa.

It’s the exact same conversation every single time. You wish there was something you could do to help Eddie, ever since he was diagnosed with a terminal illness one year ago you’ve tried your absolute best to find a way to come up with money.

Money to see him. Money for his treatments. Money to help your single mother. People who say money doesn’t make the world go round are clearly the people who have it. You may be the top of your class in college but you’re broke, arguably a terrible daughter and sister, and you’re at a dead end.

You need money… Now.

Which is what leads you to unlock your phone and begrudgingly text Namjoon, no messages have been exchanged since that fateful night you were taken to, and quickly removed from Euphoria. The vampire strip club you almost worked at.

Y/N: Hey… I really need that money from my medical records check, message me when you get this. It's Y/N.

But of course, no response.

It’s a little after eight pm when you go for a walk in the city, you’re all caught up with college work and can’t possibly imagine studying any more today. A well deserved brain break is what you need, with fresh air and maybe some cola from the convenience store a few blocks over.

It’s mid-October and the weather is bleak and uninspiring. You’re a little cold because of the wind, wrapping your yellow puffer jacket round your frame and keeping your arms crossed as you walk. The sky is darkening, stars beginning to sparkle and shine which finds a way to comfort you.

It’s strange really, most women your age would never risk walking alone at night fearful of what lurks in the shadows. Be it bad humans or bad vampires. But not you, thankfully you’ve never had an issue with solitary strolls in the dark. They’re tranquil. They’re therapeutic. And as the sky starts to sprinkle the ground with the faintest hint of rain water you sigh contently.

A little slice of peace in your simultaneously overwhelming and underwhelming life.

“Can I get two cans of cola please?” You ask the elderly man behind the counter, receiving a small nod and your items in a dark blue carrier bag once you’ve paid. “Thank you.” You smile, turning in place before your body crashes into another.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry!” You blurt, peering up with apologetic eyes at the person you bumped. But when you realise who it is your heart stops beating. This can’t be happening right now.

“Y/N...” Jimin grins, wetting his lips before he chuckles. “You know it’s dangerous for people to be walking the streets alone at night, right? We wouldn’t want something to happen to you now, would we?”

You’re panicking, at a total loss for words when your brain tries to scramble a response. Jimin brushes past you with a smug expression, his leather jacket making contact with your arm when he does so. He asks the cashier for something you don’t quite hear – since you’re already pushing your way out the door in a hurry.

“Wait there.” Jimin’s voice is quiet and calm, as are his footsteps when he catches up to you outside the building. “Let me give you a ride.”

“It’s okay, thanks though.” You offer him a weak albeit very phoney smile, one that he doesn’t accept.

He’s shaking his head with amusement, burying his hands into the pockets of his ripped jeans with a smirk. “I’m not going to hurt you Y/N, if I wanted to kill you you’d be dead already. It’s raining, you could get sick.”

“Really it’s okay I happen to like the rain—” Your words are cut short by Jimin gripping your elbow and forcibly shoving you into the passenger seat of his car parked up out front.

“Don’t forget your seat belt.” He winks before slamming the door shut. Trapping you inside.

Over the course of the past two weeks memories of Euphoria and all its staff members have become hazy to you, distant. As though none of it really happened.

But now you’re in the presence of Jimin, sitting smugly beside you as he starts the engine to a car you've sat in before. He looks just as dangerous as you remember him, his features are sharp and skin dewy. Dark hooded eyes trained to the road in front of him, sitting in complete silence until a low chuckle escapes him.

You clear your throat uncomfortably, not daring to look him in the eye, stare fixed to the collar of his black leather jacket instead, “Is something funny?”

“I’m not going to kill you.” He reiterates with a grin, rolling down his window with the push of a button. His head leans in the direction of the wind, inhaling the fresh air through flared nostrils.

“I didn’t say you was—”

“Your heart.” He turns to face you with a charming smile, wetting his lips again, “It’s racing.”

Oh. Well he’s not wrong… You are locked inside a car with a vampire, one on one. You’re not sure if you can trust him because the last time you were with him he blindsided you, if it wasn’t for Namjoon stepping in god only knows what would’ve happened.

“Sorry.” You mumble, slouching in place.

At this he laughs, rolling his eyes into the back of his skull before returning them to the streets ahead, “You’re so human.”

You can’t help but scoff, brows raised, mouth opening before giving what you say a second thought. “And you’re so vampire.” At this Jimin tuts as though he's offended, but he’s still smiling.

When you look out the window you realise you’re nowhere near your apartment, in fact you don’t recognise the surrounding area at all. It’s dark, the street lights are moving too quickly for you to focus on anything specific but you think you’re in a rural part of town. A long, long a way from home. With a vampire.

“Jimin…” You’re breathless, already fearing the worst, “I-, I don’t live around here.”

“I said I’d give you a ride, never said I was taking you home.” He hums, proud. “Boss wants to see you, and before you ask...nope. He wouldn’t tell me why. Jungkook’s not exactly the sharing type.”

Your heart stills, eyes wide and palms clammy, “J-Jungkook wants to see me?”

“Did I stutter?” Jimin snorts, turning a particularly harsh corner that has you gripping the passenger door handle tightly until your hand cramps, “That’s what I said.”

“Did you follow me just so you could take me to him?” Your voice is raised and confused. Your facial features pinched and panicked. “Have you been following me all night?!”

The driver’s expression drops into something amused, maybe even a little bored looking when the tyres of the vehicle drive over gravel – signalling your arrival. “It's cute that you thought we just happened to bump into each other. Why would I be at a convenience store? To buy a vegan meal for one?" He snorts, "We’ve had a close eye on you since the moment you left. Bosses orders.”

Your voice is merely a whisper when it rolls off your tongue, uncertainty evident in your tone. "Why? He... he didn't want me to work here so why would he want...?"

Jimin shrugs, toying with his silver bangs in his rear view mirror with a pout. "Like I said, Jungkook isn't exactly the sharing type. All I know is he wants to meet with you."

You feel violated, disgusted, kind of ashamed. How much do they know about you? About your life? Why would Jungkook order his staff to watch you if you weren’t good enough to be a donor for him in the first place? Your heart hammers in your chest, something you’re certain Jimin must’ve picked up on. It’s when you see the red neon Euphoria sign that reality comes crashing down on you. This isn’t a sick, twisted joke – this is really happening.

And it happens fast. Jimin is tugging you out of the car, not that you’re kicking and screaming in protest – no. You’re too shocked and scared to do any of that. You feel numb, very numb. Everything happens in a blur, whether Jimin intentionally rushed you through the building with his inhumane speed or you blacked out during your way upstairs you’ll never know. But you’re here, standing outside Jungkook’s office within the blink of an eye.

“Nice seeing you.” Jimin winks, knocking his ringed fingers three times on the solid oak door before he disappears quicker than you can register.

Jungkook’s voice is muffled by the door but it’s undoubtedly his. Oozing with seduction and pride, making every hair on your body stand to attention with a deadly cocktail of terror and desire when it falls on your ears.

“Come in.”

Nothing could’ve prepared you for what's behind the door. When you push it open you’re greeted with heat, lots of it, pouring from the open fire that Jungkook sits in front of on one of the leather sofas.

His raven hair is damp and messy, parted in the middle just enough to reveal his hooded eyes and the dark script tattoos that lie beneath. His black silk shirt messily hangs from his body, open, revealing the most taught and toned six pack you’ve ever seen. His thick legs are spread wide, the leather pants he wears struggling not to tear as they attempt to conceal his thigh muscles. In his right inked hand he loosely grips a crystal glass half-full of a thick crimson liquid. You know exactly what that is, the slight stain it’s given his plump lips makes it all the more obvious.

Blood.

“You wanted to see me...?” You don’t dare to step over the threshold of the door, instead choosing to stay put with arms tightly crossed over your chest. You feel severely underdressed right now. Jeans, Converse, a plain white t shirt, and your bright yellow puffer jacket. It’s almost comical the way you look in comparison to… that.

Jungkook lifts his chin, averting his fierce gaze to your frame with a sinister smile. His white fangs are prominent, a not-so-gentle reminder of what he truly is. When his glossy tongue swipes over his teeth in an obnoxious display of seduction you have to peel your eyes away from him, which only seems to entice him more because now he’s chuckling to himself.

“I did.” He nods once, slowly, “Please come in.”

“Are you going to kill me?” You blurt before you can stop yourself, and he laughs, loudly at your boldness.

“If I wanted you dead you would be by now.”

You sigh, finally stepping into his office and closing the door behind you. “That’s the second time I’ve heard that tonight.” You mumble, swallowing thickly as if to battle your nerves.

When you edge closer to him you don’t miss the way the Adam’s apple in his throat bobs up and down, nor does the way his nostrils flare go a miss. He’s dragging his gaze up and down your body when you sit in front of him on the other sofa, suddenly very warm due to the roaring fire beside you.

“If you’re too hot why don’t you take your jacket off?” He suggests with a wicked smirk, can he read minds? Or is he just good at reading people? You wonder, awkwardly shifting out of your lemon coloured coat and placing it beside you with a huff.

“You know you still owe me one thousand dollars.” You don’t know where you’ve mustered the bravery from to say that, but he simply grins, gesturing to a white envelope beside him.

“I’m aware. It’s here, you can count it if you don’t trust—”

“Why am I here?” You cut him off, simply because his presence is overwhelming you. The way he looks, how he’s dressed, his scent, his smile, his ridiculously beefy body on full display. Your voice is thick with venom and laced with sarcasm, “You said yourself I don’t belong here, so why am I here?”

At this Jungkook tongues his cheek, but it does little to rid him of the impressive grin tugging the corners of his tainted lips, “I have a proposition for you.”

Your eyes widen, mouth quickly drying of any saliva, “A proposition? You mean like a job?”

“Of sorts.” His head tips to the left, exposing more of his thick neck. “I want you to work for me.”

“But you said—”

“I know what I said,” He cuts you off with a raised digit and a warning stare, “And under no circumstances will you be donating to anybody else, just me.” He chuckles, watching the way you’ve turned visibly uncomfortable, “I don’t drink from the vein, you won’t be harmed. And you’ll be compensated financially of course, every time you make a donation.”

You do need the money right now, but can you trust Jungkook? Definitely not. Everything about him should have you running for the hills – he’s terrifying. But you think back to Eddie, his treatments, visiting him, supporting your mother… You’d be a fool to turn this down, no matter how morally corrupt it may be.

“Say I’m interested…” You find the strength to look into his eyes, they’re already staring right back at you intensely and he almost smiles. “How much money would I make per donation? And if you don’t drink from… I-, well how do I donate?”

His gaze doesn’t falter, fiery and fixated on you, “Five thousand dollars per donation, and just like you’d donate at the hospitals. Except you’ll be getting paid for it.” His smirk is dark and drips with desire, “I do have a few conditions though.”

At this you click your tongue to the roof of your mouth with a small nod. Five thousand dollars is a lot of money. You'll do anything. “Understandable. What are they?”

“Keep a healthy diet, no vigorous exercise on the days you donate, no drugs, no alcohol in the five days leading up to the donation...” He lists as though this is the most mundane conversation on earth, “And most importantly you need to touch yourself within an hour of donating.”

Your eyes bulge from your skull with a scoff, “I’m sorry, what was that last one?”

“Touch yourself. Make yourself come.” He repeats with a straight face, “You do touch yourself, don’t you Y/N?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business or why I’d need to—”

“I’ll take that as a yes then, shall I?” His brow quirks, the smug smile he wears both enticing and petrifying. And very salacious. “Arousal makes the blood…” He inhales through his nose, deeply, enough for his strong chest to rise and grab your attention, “Sweeter. And I imagine yours is…” He trails off to nothing, lost in thought when he licks his lips.

“Why do you want my blood in the first place?” You deflect, heat growing in each of your pressure points at the way he ogles your frame with eyes blackened by lust. “I thought I wasn’t good enough to work here.”

“On the contrary.” His pupils dilate instantly, his large free hand roughly palming his thick thigh, “The vampires who come here aren’t good enough for you.”

You’re biting your nail nervously as you digest what he’s saying, still unsure of what it means. “But—”

“You seem to have an effect on me Y/N. Something that has never happened in all of my years, and it’s not just me. The others here sense it too, the reason I don’t want you to work here is because I fear you have a similar impact on all of my kind. To put it simply you'd end up dead pretty quickly if that's the case. I’d like you to donate so I can test your blood for any anomalies, to find out why I’m… drawn to you, as it were.”

It all starts to make sense. Jimin and Namjoon’s reaction to you, Taehyung… All of them. The comments about air freshener, the opening of the car windows. How Taehyung had mentioned your smell… You’re nodding slowly as you mull over the facts. Truthfully you’re intrigued to say the least, what makes you so special? You exhale shakily, gaze flickering up and down everything the monster in front of you has to offer. Why does he have to be so damn attractive? You physically shake the crude thoughts from your mind.

“So you’re just testing my blood? You won’t even be drinking it?”

He smiles, holding up his glass as if to make a toast, “That’s right.”

You swallow, “Then why… Why do you want me to touch—”

“Like I said… It makes the blood sweeter.”

“But you said you won’t be drinking—”

“You know you’re a very brave little girl picking a fight with a vampire. Are you always this argumentative?" He chuckles sinisterly, "Just do as I say and in return you’ll be paid. Do we have a deal?”

Eddie. Eddie’s medical bills. Your mother. Travel expenses.

You’re nodding gently, maybe a little hesitantly, “We do.”

At this Jungkook’s grin widens, exposing his white teeth, “Perfect. I’ll leave you to it then, shall I?” He stands, “I’ll be right outside, let me know when you’re finished.”

“Wait what?!” Your jaw drops to the floor.

He makes his way over to you, until your face is level with his leather clad crotch directly in front of you and you have to look somewhere else, somewhere that isn't his taught stomach flexing under the dim lighting. “You’re already here... it would be a waste to not donate tonight, would it not?” He’s peering down at you with a sharp profile riddled with amusement, endeared by the way you can’t physically look at him.

“I-, I’m not exactly in the mood to…”

“Could’ve fooled me.” He sighs knowingly, dropping to his knees in front of you in the blink of an eye, tattooed hands slowly spreading your thighs. “Since you’ve been staring at me all night and think I’m so damn attractive.”

You’re more affected by his touch than you anticipated, your skin is hot beneath your jeans under his palms. It doesn’t feel real, how turned on you are, how your nipples are already hardening under your bra. How your panties are already growing damp. Your mouth dry. You should be embarrassed right now, and usually you would be absolutely mortified that you’re so aroused at the slightest touch. But something about the power he has over you only entices you more.

“So you can read minds…” You breathe, innocent whisper stained with desire.

“Mmm.” He smirks, neither confirming nor denying your statement. His hands slowly slide up your thighs, until there’s no thigh left and his thumbs are dangerously close to your throbbing core. “Tell me Y/N, do you need any toys? Or can you make yourself come with these?” Suddenly your fingers are laced with his, pinned either side of your head against the back of the sofa.

You gasp, “I-, I don’t… I don’t need toys.” If you’re being honest you’d rather he be the one to push you over the edge, vampire or not he’s so fucking sexy… His hands, his tongue, his cock… You want all of it. On you, inside you, pressed against you, fucking you senseless. You’re in a daze, mind clouded with a carnal lust you've never experienced in your life.

He makes a tsk noise between his teeth that has every nerve in your body aflame, “You need to keep your thoughts to yourself little girl. Before someone gets hurt.” His eyes are black, boring into the depths of your soul for what feels like a life time until he snaps away from you, somehow already standing by the door. “Take as long as you need, I’ll be out here.”

In one incredible display of self-restraint Jungkook calmly closes the door behind him before frantically covering his nose and mouth with his palms. Chest heaving up and down with every ragged breath he takes, throat burning, yearning for your body and blood. He can’t think straight, your scent is clouding every single one of his senses. He’s never known anything like it before, he even made sure he fed before your arrival – but still it wasn’t enough.

Things could’ve escalated into something sinister if he hadn’t stopped himself when he did. The way you looked at him, the things you thought of him, the way your thighs tensed and then melted under his touch, welcoming him.

He’s never had sex with a human before, not since he turned all those years ago, because he knows he’d lose control and kill them in an instant. That and because up until he saw you no human was even worth the risk of execution. He could fuck as many vampires and witches as he wanted, why waste his time on a fragile little human?

He presses his back to the door, attempting to slow his breathing. If his heart still worked he’s certain it would be racing right now. He has to find out why he’s so affected by you, your presence, your smell, your body… He wants all of you, every inch of skin, every piece of arousal, every drop of blood.

A frustrated sigh leaves him, even through the oak door your thoughts are so fucking loud. Thinking of him while you touch yourself, imagining it was his fingers inside you instead of your own. This was a bad idea, it’s taking everything in him not to smash the door down and rush to your side right now.

A soft moan through the wood makes his balls hurt. Not pulse, not tighten, no they hurt. His cock longing to plunge itself deep into your sopping pussy. His fangs itching to plunge straight into your jugular. He’s a total wreck and he despises it, usually he’s calm and collected, but more to the point he’s always in control. But with you around? An impossible feat. A louder noise, maybe a whimper, has him pulling the hairs at his scalp. He doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out for, but he needs your blood to be at its best.

From the other side of the wooden door you’re panting, mouth wide open as you ride out your high on the leather sofa. Did you really just fuck yourself to an orgasm in front of a roaring fireplace in a vampire’s den? Yes. And you feel better for it, most of the tension has lifted from your body and you can finally think straight again. Five thousand dollars is a lot of money, money you desperately need for your family. And getting paid for an orgasm doesn’t seem too undesirable. While a part of you feels cheap and dirty, things could always be a lot worse.

As soon as you’re dressed you head over to where Jungkook is, shyly opening the door.

“I’m-, I've-, it’s done.” You can’t look him in the eye, nor does he give you the option because he remains with his broad back to you when he speaks.

“Good. I’ll go get the supplies.”

It’s twenty minutes later when you’re giving your first donation, the needle stung a little when it pierced your vein but Jungkook was careful and surprisingly gentle with the preparation. As a Nursing student you know that what he's doing is medically correct at least.

You watch blood drain from your arm and into long test tubes, ten to be exact. After the final one you start to feel woozy and lightheaded, sinking further back into the sofa with heavy eyelids.

“We’re done. Are you okay?” He asks, sounding genuinely concerned. The fact he’s taking your donation himself instead of asking someone else to doesn’t go unnoticed. You can’t help but wonder if this is difficult for him, but judging by his tight set jaw and heavy breathing you already know the answer.

“I’m fine.” You nod lazily, noting the bandage already sitting neatly in the ditch of your elbow. “Are you okay?”

At this he frowns, his features intense and brooding when he looks you dead in the eye, “What do you mean?” He looks a surprised, maybe a little shocked, and you question if anybody has ever asked him such a basic, such a human question before.

“The blood. Doesn’t it do something to you?” You half-smile, well aware of the fact he’s biologically programmed to kill you any second now. You’re weak, defenceless, and truthfully you wouldn’t put up much of a fight knowing the outcome would be your death regardless. “I learned about vampires in high school, I know that once you smell blood—”

“You don’t know a single thing about me.” He snaps, voice oozing threat, “Like I said… If I wanted you dead—”

“You would’ve done it by now.” You can’t help but chuckle, every part of you knows you should be terrified right now, and maybe in the depths of your being you are. But part of you takes his word at face value. The fact of the matter is you’re unharmed, just like he said.

Jungkook smirks, shoving your blood samples into the back pocket of his leather trousers, “Exactly. I’ll drive you home, you’ll recover more comfortably in your own space.”

Your brow quirks, “What about Jimin?”

The low possessive rumble in his chest is undeniable, as is the flicker of disgust in his hooded eyes. “I’m not going to risk leaving you with another vampire when you’ve just-, when you smell… like that.” He swallows, turning away from you completely.

Your cheeks flush when you realise what he means, “O-okay…”

It's after a painful car journey to your apartment building and back that Jungkook finds himself in one of the dark VIP rooms back at Euphoria, some nameless woman in lingerie gyrating and grinding against his spread thighs.

Her physique glows under the devilish lighting, flaunting her curves and crevice’s and emphasising her bright smile. While his gaze is fixed to hers and he and visibly looks as though he’s enjoying her private dance, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

It’s nothing but an experiment to him, she’s one of his few human dancers at the club and her presence doesn’t affect him in the slightest. He can’t even remember her name any more. When he watches her he feels… nothing. No desire to hunt, no desire to kill, to kiss, to fuck, to feed from. Nothing. All he can think about is you.

That’s what leads him back to his office not even thirty minutes later, popping open one of the test tubes filled with your blood. His eyes glow red and frame with dark bruising and veins immediately, fangs extending at least an inch longer than his other teeth, nostrils flaring when he inhales the scent of your donation. It’s the sweetest, most addicting thing he’s ever encountered in his entire existence.

“Fuck.” He growls, cock already straining against his leather pants and chest heaving up and down in sync with his heavy breaths. Without giving a second thought he knocks back the vile as though it’s a shot of alcohol, groaning in pleasure after he swallows, scrambling to find the other tubes because he wants more. He needs more. Just as he expected, you're the best thing he's ever tasted. From the moment you met he knew you were his new obsession.

And unbeknownst to you, there are no tests.

Just thirst.

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