#besides the unnecessarily detailed art of him

[nanstar200]

Does this guy like Gabriel?? (The answer will shock you)

⬆️ this drawing inspired by @miserricorde ‘s absolutely darling desktop gabriel..

[thestralluvr]

Daylight

CHAPTER II

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Tryna’ wash away all the blood I’ve spilt.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Neville was always admiring them from afar, at first he told himself it was a way of making sure they weren’t out to get him or weren’t just putting up a nice facade. Yet, the more he noticed them, the more his feelings began to grow.

He knew it as soon as he caught himself thinking about them whilst getting ready in front of the mirror for the previous years Yule Ball, thinking of how beautifully divine they would look that night.

He had recognised that look, it was the same one that Ginny and Luna would share across the Great Hall, the same one Dean and Seamus would share late at night in their shared dorm, the same look he’d seen Percy Weasley share with Oliver wood in his third year whilst studying by the Common Room fireplace, the same he would see Lavendar and Pavati share during Divination, the same he’d even seen Hagrid and Madame Maxime share at the Yule Ball, the very same he’d see Professor Mcgonagall and Madam Promfrey sneak at the teachers table. He practically saw it everywhere he went.

Love was all around him, he knew then that what he felt for them was love.

The more he saw them in a new light, the more he noticed how utterly awfully they were treated.

He was seemingly the only person to notice how harshly they were treated. Their dorm mates, fellow house members, peers, hell, even some of the teachers were unnecessarily strict towards them!

Yet, nobody said anything. Not a single person realised how harmful their words and thrown insults were. Neville longed to stand up for them, to tell off those nasty people. But, unfortunately that just wasn’t how their world worked.

Despite all of this, Y/N’s kindness never faltered.

Everyone’s kindness and patience was to be tested that year.

For the newest member of staff was Dolores Jane Umbridge. Many had guessed within the first few moments of her arrival that she was here on behalf of the ministry. Umbridge was appointed the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and good Godric it was going to be dead awful.

Their first lesson proved as much.

Y/N was the last to arrive into the classroom, what once was playful chatter became menacing silence as they walked through the door.

Y/N glanced around quickly for the last available seat, their eyes widened once they saw who it was next to.

Of fucking course this had to happen to them. Of course they had to sit beside their hopeless crush.

They quickly made their way over, not sparing a glance to any of the eyes burning into them. Their thigh ever so slightly pressed beside Neville’s, sending a flustered shiver over the pair of them. An obnoxious voice broke the deadly silence, “Well, Well. Isn’t this quite the couple.” Draco began, “I wouldn’t worry too much, Longbottom. They’re too much of a coward to do anything!” He declared.

Y/N sighed and turned in their seat to face the snarky boy. “It’s called being a nice person, Malfoy. You should really give it a go sometime!” They smiled sarcastically.

“What was that?!” Draco questioned. Any further argument was diminished as the classroom door slammed shut, the class turning to face the woman donned in pink. “Ahem. Good morning children.” Professor Umbridge announced with an uptight smile.

Students shared glances of amusement at the prospect of seeing Malfoy somewhat put in his place for once and frustration that their source of entertainment was interrupted. Y/N’s gaze subconsciously shifted to their desk, making them frown in confusion when they’d noticed a new detail on their fresh parchment.

In the top right hand corner etched in a neat scrawl sat a small ‘Nice one :)’. Y/N glanced up at the boy next to them in confusion, a light blush grazing their features. A matching one on his. Neville caught their eye and lightly grinned, just his smile alone put a matching one on Y/N’s face before Umbridge began droning on.

She began her lesson by speaking of this years O.W.Ls as if she were teaching first years. Being sure to include a reminder to study hard for them as any teacher would, although, her talk of consequences didn’t sound like something Y/N wanted to end up with.

Books began to be levitated in front of them, the cover title depicting the book was for beginners. Dolores attempted to reason with the class, stating that their previous education had been uneven, and that the students would be taught in a risk free, carefully structured, Ministry approved course. The last statement practically proving that the Ministry of Magic was indeed interfering with Hogwarts.

Flipping through the book, it was clear there was nothing involving actually using defensive magic, instead learning theory. Hermione spoke up on behalf of everybody’s confusion, “Professor, there appears to be nothing in here about using defensive spells?” she questioned. “Using spells? Why I couldn’t begin to imagine why would you need to use such spells. Especially in my classroom.” Umbridge replied, “We’re not using magic?” Ron asked. Dolores responded with a poor excuse of how safe the lesson plan was intended to be.

Harry certainly disagreed and Y/N couldn’t blame him. “What use is it? If we’re to be attacked we won’t exactly be risk free.” He said bluntly. “Students shall raise their hands when they wish to speak in my classroom, Mr Potter.” Umbridge replied with a certain sternness. She began to go on about how the Ministry thought it was best to go with a theoretical approach to learning Defence Against the Dark Arts which, in her words was ‘what school was all about.’

“And what’s theory supposed to do to ready us for what’s out there?” Harry challenged. “There is nothing out there, dear. Who do you suppose would wish to harm children such as yourself?” She said, almost tauntingly. “Oh, i’m not sure. Perhaps Lord Voldemort?” He responded sarcastically.

The class went into a spurt of shock at the mention of the Dark Lords name, especially out of the mouth of Harry of all people. Umbridge attempted to dismiss Harry’s remarks, telling the class his disclosure was a blatant lie. Harry of course snapped back, earning him a detention with her. Y/N couldn’t begin to imagine the sort she was giving out.

The class was hushed beyond that, nothing more than the shrill voice of their teacher and the scribbling of their quills.

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Two days had passed since that class, two days of confusion for Y/N. They would stay up until the early hours of the morning staring at their ceiling, wondering what that odd interaction had meant. Was he teasing them? Calling them a hypocrite for telling Draco he should try being a good person? They felt as though they’d been replaying the encounter on repeat in their head, attempting to decipher it.

Which is what they were doing that afternoon, walking the halls after class trying to make their way to the lakeside to clear their crowded, foggy head.

They had turned a corner into a desolate corridor, not quite as desolate as it usually was when they’d coincidentally run smack bang into Neville Longbottom.

There was a beat of staring into each others eyes, startled. Before Y/N began to apologise profusely.

After about their tenth string of apologies Neville cut them off, “Y/N, don’t stress it. It’s okay, it was an accident.” He smiled at them, they stopped. “Right. Well, sorry!” They grinned at him apologetically before turning to leave.

Neville grasped their hand before they could take another step, they spun around confusedly.

“I just- I’m not sure when or well if,” he chuckled nervously. “we will get another moment alone together.” They cocked their head in confusion. “I just want- no, need. I need you to know that I trust you, I can see the real person you are Y/N. You are not her.” He admitted.

And they thought the note passed in class was odd. This was a whole other level.

They were frozen in place, hand still held in Neville’s soft hold. They probably looked like a right mess with the amount of bewilderment they were feeling, yet the look of…adoration? in Neville’s eyes, they felt like the most important person in the world, the most important person to him.

A person can only dream…

They snapped back to reality, looking between Neville’s eyes and their interlocked hands. “I- well i’m not sure what to say?” they grinned nervously. “You don’t have to say anything,” Neville replied with a soft smile, his thumb smoothing over their knuckles. “Y/N I-“

Neville was cut off from saying another word as the sound of footsteps was heard down the corridor. Y/N had to make a break for it, to be caught alone with Neville… they didn’t even want to imagine what people would say then. But it was too late to run, as Seamus, Dean, and Ron came into view.

“Oi, Nev! Thought you only left a book what’s taking you so long?” Seamus called out. It was then that he caught sight of Y/N behind Neville. “YOU! What do you think you’re doing talking to him?!” He questioned menacingly.

Neville took a step in front of Y/N, “Leave it, Seamus. It’s none of your business.” Neville said collectedly, his calm demeanour coming off strong.

“Whatever, got what you needed?” Ron muttered, Neville lifted up his lost book. “Right then, let’s go.” Dean ordered. The trio sauntered off, Neville gave Y/N an apologetic fleeting glance before trailing after them. Leaving Y/N to stand in the now once again desolate corridor.

It was safe to say they definitely needed to clear their head by the lake after that situation.

[funtimespringscare101]

@chaosverse-mainblog I'm back doing digital art so take this Official GB/Black and White Golden Mom AU Reference for the Golden Boy himself! Plus an official bio detailing more about this AU's counterpart!

plus finalized names for the three stooges that kidnap the poor guy.

Headcanons:

This GB has a different (and far morally better) understanding than Canon! Golden Boy thanks to Christine. He understands that humans are complex and complicated but they are something to protect.

Sometimes, the black liquid describes the OG story leaks out of the vessel. When he is hurt, like blood.

Good! GB's favorite food is Huevo con Jamon (this being Canon! GB's official twitter tag that Marco uses to see fanart)

Like the Canon counterpart, he is fluent in three languages beside Italian, those being English, Spanish, and Japanese.

Although Current Canon! Golden Boy might be a different thing than the Rogue AI that Legacy GB is. Good! GB will follow the Legacy storyline until further notice.

Like I said in the Golden Mom Introduction post, if Christine ever met FireStar, it would be Canon (as GB is part of the MM Roster, even if this AU follows the Post-MM Reboot, or what we have at the moment of it at least). If Good! GB and FireStar ever interacted, FireStar would find it refreshing to have a "Mario" who acts how he's supposed to do (alongside IHY! Mario of course).

If he met either version of Canon! GB, he would be terrified of what he would have become.

Usually speaks like Legacy GB does in the Mario's Madness trailers, but I can imagine him switching to Sandi's Golden Boy voice from the upcoming short horror film like it's a "unnecessarily serious" funny gag from a cartoon. Transparent Render:

[clearlynotjanus]

Loceit Appreciation Week: Day One, Hobbies

READ ON AO3

Chapter Summary: Through three accidental bonding moments over their usually solo hobbies, Logan & Janus realize they have a bit in common & enjoy what the other has to offer.

CW: Food mention, NSFW insinuated very briefly, Greek mythology Word Count: 6497 Genre: Gen Rating: Gen Ships: Slowburn Loceit, slowburn Intruloceit, pre-established Intrulogical, pre-established Dukeceit

taglist: @sanderssidesangsttrash​ @catalinaacosta​ @whatishappeningrightnow​ @anxiousbean4404​ @vexelore​ @the-dead-and-the-decaying​ @serpentinesomebody​ @poptartsaysurloved​ @robertdownerjr​ @dangitsbrightinhere​ @iamuncomffy​ @sanderdarksides​ @evertriedsoywithyourpopcorn​ @dragonfander @virgilstarantula​ @a-rudethude @indubitably-emo @gay-artist-626​ @cosplayhanna​ @edupunkn00b​ @wouldntyou-liketoknow​ @awesomerandomgirl1​ @loceitweek2021​​

To support my writing, consider subscribing to my Patreon or checking out my Ko-fi. 

Without any effort made to conceal himself, Janus observed Logan and Remus from the kitchen pass through. Cynically his eyes measured the almost formal distance between the lovers on the couch. There was no need to guesstimate their familiarity; Remus gushed every chance he got about their private life but Janus was still nosey as ever. He leaned forward there with an elbow bent across the counter, the other propped up with an apple brought to his mouth every so often with a satisfying crunch. His gaze switched between keen on their movements and hazy as trains of thought whisked him away. 

Janus was aware his staring made Logan uncomfortable in these moments. He shifted, glanced in Janus’ direction, cleared his throat, pushed his glasses back unnecessarily, all as though being perceived so closely was an entirely new concept; but that was just another reason to continue. This was, after all, the Dark Side; his side, and far be it from Janus to let Logan forget that detail. Besides, it wasn’t like he was a peeping Tom, leering as their casual afternoon became intimate. No, whenever that occurred, Janus was out of the room faster than Remus could get it up.

Today was tedious in its domesticity. Remus scribbled like a madman with furious scritchscritchscritches in a notebook that seemed to change positions whenever Janus looked at him, specifically. Logan rested his head gently against a loosely balled fist. With a quiet schwiff every couple of minutes, he turned a page of the book in his lap. The room was silent otherwise.

Crunch. Schwiff. Scritchscritchscritch. Crunch. Schwiff. Scritchscritchscritch. Crunch -- The apple was finished and the sticky core was disposed of.

“Logan,” Janus called suddenly in a sweet tone as the trash’s lid closed. 

The Side in question stayed silent; either to finish the line his eyes were currently on or to give Janus a taste of his own uncomfortable medicine. Either way, Janus rounded the kitchen corner and balanced a hip against the arm rest next to Remus. A gloved hand idly found its way into his partner’s curls; thoughtlessly, Remus leaned into the feeling, but remained otherwise unresponsive, clearly content with his scribbling. Logan finally blinked up. His expression seemed indecisive between exasperated and dubious, with a predictable amount of disinterest.

“What is it you’re reading?” Janus asked, brows and chin raised with an amount of intrigue that Logan didn’t immediately trust. Not to say Logan didn’t trust Janus individually, but even if he was the Side who understood Deceit the best, there was still quite a bit of water under this particular bridge -- or, uh, whatever idiom would fit here.

Instead of responding verbally, Logan held up the blue and black cover for Janus to read himself; which he then did. With a slightly cocked head, the words were enunciated slowly.

“Born Under Saturn. The Character and Conduct of Artists; A Documented History From Antiquity to The French Revolution,” Janus blinked back up at Logan’s face, digesting the rather wordy sentence. “An analysis of historical artists?” He attempted to boil the topic down to something more … succinct as Logan lowered the book again.

“Basically,” He allowed, eyes poised to resume his reading.

Janus hummed with peaked interest and continued to watch as Logan’s demeanor receded from vaguely conversational to studiously mute once more. In truth, it sounded like a rather compelling read. Being Thomas’ Sides, of course, they were all inclined to art in some way; for the more left-brained Sides such as Janus and Logan however, the critique and reasoning behind the art and associated artists compelled them more frequently than the act of creating art, itself. 

“What’s the part about Saturn?” Janus asked with knitted brows, the hand in Remus’ hair going still as he interrupted again after a moment. This question seemed to get Logan going as he shifted in his seat.

“Well, I had assumed from the title that the study would be centered around evidence pertaining to when and where artists were born, alluding to the hypothesis that Saturnian positions and dispositions resulted in a certain type of artistic character,” Logan explained, annoyance bleeding into his tone as he placed the back of his hand on the page he was currently on in a humorless gesture.

“And I take it from your very contented mood that that’s exactly what the book is about,” Janus teased reflexively, taken aback by Logan’s sudden enthusiasm. Perhaps, Janus thought, he hadn’t been so bothered by being stared at and was simply wrestling with his expectations of the text.

“Ha ha,” He laughed dryly; the sound made Janus smirk. “Saturn is, unfortunately,” Logan waved his hand at the book, “Just a metaphor here.”

“A metaphor for what?” Janus pressed gently, giving a final tug of affection to Remus’ hair before retracting his hand; sensing the appendage being stolen, the distracted Creativity leaned to follow the stimulus until it was far out of reach. Janus turned away and sat delicately on the shallow coffee table in front of Logan, who then paused.

He didn’t wonder why Janus was interested in this topic; after all, he thought, philosophy and theoretical debate were right up Janus’ alley. Additionally, they were speaking about metaphors, he rationalized. Logan didn’t need to understand nor regularly use the literary device to know its practical application, particularly to Deceit who always spoke in those encumbering and roundabout ways. What Logan really paused for was a moment of recognition that after years of distant silence, they were embarking on a rather cordial discussion.

“The melancholic,” Logan explained.

“So not the Roman god?”

“Well, yes and no, but for the comparison to make sense, no is easier,” Janus nodded and crossed his legs, listening with intent held in his brows. “It is a tad convoluted but the theory relates to the history of the four humors,” Janus gave a soft, one-noted hum and Logan nodded. “After all, the Greek etymology for the word melancholy is melas, meaning black and kholé meaning bile; black bile, of course--”

“Being one of the four … fluids,” Janus scrunched his nose distastefully, “Associated with the four humors,” He finished his interruption, gesturing with a loose wrist. 

“Exactly,” Logan breathed with a surprised half smile.

“So what does Saturn have to do with black bile?” Janus asked reasonably.

“Well that part goes back to the interpretive study of Astrology,” Janus tilted his head with surprised interest. “Which, despite its dubious plausibility today, played a frequently understated role in the founding of modern science, especially modern psychology.” Logan paused, watching Janus’ face shift subtly in thought. 

“Forgive my relatively ignorant knowledge of Astrology,” Logan nodded permissibly as Janus began to piece the theory together with slow words, “But I guess what you’re saying, or rather, what you expected the book to say, is that artists all suffer from a melancholic disposition?” Logan hummed and shook his head, causing Janus to purse his lips. 

“Again, yes and no. The book is saying that, to some extent.”

“You had just been expecting the evidence to be reliant on literal Saturn rather than...whatever they’re actually using,” Janus tried again and was rewarded with another half smile.

“Are you nerds done yet?” Remus piped up suddenly as Logan opened his mouth to continue. Janus’ head turned and the awareness in his partner’s eyes made his own narrow; how long had he been attentive to their conversation? “I wanna show Lolo what I made.”

“Quite, then,” Janus smiled curtly at Remus who beamed with knowing sarcasm in a way that only Janus would be able to detect. Rat bastard. “Another time,” He promised almost provocatively as a parting to Logan, who looked rather miffed and torn between continuing this unexpectedly stimulating conversation and tending to his boyfriend’s desires.

Janus stood before brushing invisible dirt off himself. “Have a wonderful afternoon, lovebirds,” Janus lilted, fingers wiggling in a goodbye wave as his back disappeared down the hall.

Logan blinked several times before inhaling and turning to Remus, who seemed a few moments more patient and perhaps a little more amused than usual.

- - - - -

Remus’ door having gone unanswered, when music began to softly crackle from the direction of the kitchen, Logan followed it with a vague intrigue. He paused in the entry, blinking at the four black-sleeved and yellow-gloved hands that flitted about the counter spaces. They rifled through the fridge and plucked from the cabinets with a sense of mindlessness from their owner, who stood at the sink. Using his natural two arms, Janus filled various bowls with water as he hummed along to the quiet, bouncy swing song that played from an antique looking gramophone Logan could’ve sworn wasn’t there yesterday. The scene was fascinating, from a scientific point of view; he had never considered how Janus’ many arms worked and seeing them here, stretching out and acting as though they had their own sentience piqued his interest immensely. 

For long moments, Logan watched silently before the arms retracted, bringing various items back to the workspace closest to Janus. Packets of gelatin, food coloring -- Logan squinted from his position; corn syrup? The answer to a question he hadn’t asked made itself apparent as he recalled a few various tidbits Remus had given him about his partner. Logan cleared his throat to get Janus’ attention, satisfied with his distant examinations.

“Oh,” The baker turned around, excess arms disappearing inside him with a flourish as they completed their purpose of fetching. “Logan, good morning,” Janus greeted in a sunny tone, though confusion hinted in his eyes.

“Good morning,” He returned, taking conservative steps into the kitchen. He nodded at the gelatin packets. “So this is the gelatin art Remus talks about,” Logan observed without question.

“Remus talks about it?” Janus asked, reserved happiness in his distracted tone as he stepped from the sink to the counter and began measuring out tablespoons of corn syrup.

“Frequently,” Logan confirmed, crossing his arms casually. The conversation came to a peaceful lull as Janus began to stir the syrup and water. Concluding that, he turned and took steps that placed him closer than usual to the other.

“What does he say?” Janus asked like a teen greedy for rumors, giving a sly glance from under his lashes as he paused. The moment lingered as he reached around Logan for the gelatin packets he stood in front of, meeting his eyes all the while. Suddenly, Logan couldn’t remember a single thing Remus had ever said. The tips of his ears reddened with a blush that creeped up the back of his neck. He swallowed against the dryness of his throat.

“Just that you enjoy making gelatin,” Logan responded after Janus had made his way back to the counter, his posture feeling as stiff and unnatural as his answer. He could see the disappointment in the way Janus’ lips pursed as he began dumping the neutral colored gelatin into the solution.

“Is that so.”

“Yes,” Logan cleared his throat and again felt that his response was lame. It made the air between them go stale. How did Remus manage to speak with Janus so casually and with so much enthusiasm? Of course, he wouldn't be Remus without an absence of shame, but still; Logan found himself envying the fact. 

He was appreciative of the cheerful music that eased the awkwardness. Also that Janus didn’t seem to mind how apparently awful he was at idle conversations despite his desire to engage in them. After a few moments, Janus went back to humming as he repeated the task of pouring gelatin into the bowls and discarding the packets. As the heat in his face receded, Logan recalled more of Remus’ words over the time they had been dating. 

He always spoke very highly of his partner, which was to be expected. Janus was graceful, patient, and, quote, ridiculously smart. Despite taking everything Remus had to say with mounded tablespoons of realism flavored salt, examining Janus now and through the lens of their recent interactions, Logan would have to agree. 

“He has an awful habit,” Janus revived the conversation as one song faded into the next. He turned and leaned back against the counter; as he spoke, he slowly began turning the knob of a manual can opener against a can of condensed milk. “Of eating various inedible things,” Janus scrunched his nose and Logan exhaled. “You won’t believe the things he’s consumed over the years.”

“That’s why you make the gelatin, correct?” Logan asked, hoping this time his phrasing opened up the possibility for more elaboration.

“Mhm,” Janus hummed with a shallow nod and twisted the lid off before throwing it in the trash as well. He turned and stirred the thickened milk into the largest bowl of water and corn syrup. Discomfort washed over Logan once more as he began to realize the conversation had died again. His head fell but soon snapped up as Janus thankfully continued after a moment.

“Of course it doesn’t negate the problem entirely,” His tone was less annoyed than Logan would’ve thought. Though there was plenty of quiet frustration, mostly he sounded concerned and tired. “But I like to imagine it helps some at least.” 

“I think it helps more than you realize,” Logan offered slowly in a tone that was sure of itself despite the confusion in his brow. Did Janus not realize his instrumental intervention?

Remus never really shut up about how much he appreciated Janus. The various ways Janus managed him and his mental health over their lifetime together, how effortless Janus made it all look; Logan had to admit, hearing about it constantly was rather intimidating, especially at the beginning of their relationship. He had high expectations to meet if everything Remus said was true, and like he thought before, it was beginning to look that way as Logan got to know Janus for himself. Remus talked a fair amount about how much he appreciated Logan as well though, so he never did have much of a chance to get demoralized about it. Even so, gauging the dynamic between Janus and Remus without his interference was a bit startling as everything came into focus.

They flowed together easily; in the interactions Logan had witnessed, their affection always had a sense of routine and familiarity, but not in the stale way that felt boring after years of repetition. Perhaps, Logan began to think, it had clouded his view a bit and prevented him from questioning if Remus ever expressed his gratitude to Janus, directly. The likelihood that he didn’t seemed infinitesimal, and yet the doubt was still clear in Janus’ words. Was it that he didn’t believe Remus then?

Janus cautioned a look at Logan from over his shoulder, surprise and then confusion flashed across his features; exactly how much did Remus talk about him? He didn’t mind being complimented of course, he adored praise, but something about the idea of Remus jumping into a new relationship only to gush about him constantly didn’t sit right with him. Especially if that person was Logan. Who knew how Logan felt after all this time? Janus scrunched his nose and tossed the now empty can with a sense of distaste.

“I suppose he talks about me too much if you think that,” His tone was apologetic as he gave the mixture a final stir before turning to meet Logan’s eyes with a flashy smile. “Enough about all that though; would you like to help?”

Logan blinked, his mind catching up to the topic dismissal. “Help?” He repeated automatically before realizing what Janus meant. “Oh. No,” He unfolded his arms to wave a hand, shaking his head. “I’m not one for baking, I’ll just get in the way.”

“Nonsense,” Janus insisted, reaching forward to gently steal Logan by his sleeve. “If you need more motivation than just my requesting, think about how thrilled Remus will surely be knowing you had a hand in this batch.”

Logan let himself be pulled towards the workstation, not having it in him to refuse Janus’ smile and persistence more than once.

“I suppose you have a point,” He conceded with a sigh and Janus clapped his hands together quietly.

“Splendid,” he plucked the box of food coloring from the counter and pushed the dark blue dropper into Logan’s hands. “This is the easy part anyway. I trust you completely.”

Somehow, the implication of Janus trusting him made him pause, feeling his chest going warm. Logan stared down at the small bottle in his hands, feeling even more clueless now being involved than he had simply watching Janus; but Janus still trusted him. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell that Janus was trusting him on reputation alone, something the others consistently seem to find inconceivable. Not often was Logan trusted so explicitly, which was concerning to say the least, but function aside, the sentiment filled him with unexpected happiness. 

“Just get this,” Janus tapped one of bowls filled with water, corn syrup, and gelatin, “As close to this shade,” He then pointed to the blue swirl part of the Tide Pod resting between the various ingredients, “As you can get,” Janus finished with another disarming smile. Forcing himself to look away, Logan thought that at the rate Janus used that sort of charm on him like that, he’d never remember anything ever again.

“Okay,” He asserted slowly with a nod and unscrewed the small bottle. As he set to dropping small amounts of the dye before stirring and comparing the colors, Janus seemed to be doing the same with a shade of bright orange. “I suppose that’s good,” Logan ascertained after a few silent moments, holding the clear bowl up to his face for closer inspection.

“Flawless, I would say,” Janus complimented, completing his own color a second later. “Next,” He said slowly and reached to gather several of one kind of item that Logan didn’t immediately recognize, “We set the molds,” Janus explained as he neatly lined about a dozen purple, palm sized squares between them. Logan uttered a small, ah, in understanding.

He scanned the counter for a tool that would be useful here; the idea of pouring the liquid straight into the molds seemed rather silly and messy. If this were Patton, Logan wouldn’t put it past him, but Janus was far more structured, far more sensible.

“Should we use those?” Logan asked, reaching for the rather thick gauge baking syringes set to the side as Janus opened the molds to reveal a swirl shape identical to the signature Tide Pod.

“A step ahead of me,” Janus lilted with a nod, raising his eyes just enough to spot the syringes he planned on retrieving next. “Go on then,” He pointed his chin at the gelatin, reaching over Logan for a needle of his own. “I trust it’s fairly self explanatory for you.”

And it was; the entire procedure wasn’t particularly challenging, as long as Janus wasn’t smiling at him or charming him out of his brain cells. Logan drew up about half the syringe’s barrel and then held one half of the mold in his palm. Comparing it to the Tide Pod, he began to gently squeeze the blue solution along half of the swirl pattern, dragging it across the material for an even consistency. Janus smiled to himself, watching from the corner of his eye and began to do the same with his own orange gelatin, working from the opposite end of the line. 

“When it comes to the ones already filled,” Janus began as they approached meeting in the middle, though before he could finish, Logan interrupted knowingly.

“I suppose I should avoid picking the mold up so as to not disrupt the other side,” He guessed and positioned his syringe at a different angle, experimenting with how he should go about it now before settling on a method.

“Precisely,” Janus delighted quietly, moving behind Logan and out of his way to fill in the orange sides of the already completed blue ones. “Typically,” He continued as they settled back into a rhythm, “I just do both colors at once, holding it as you had started,” Janus glanced out of the corner of his eye; Logan looked so concentrated, it was impossible not to find the focus in his eyes adorable. For a brief moment, before Janus continued, Logan began to worry that he was getting in the way as he feared. If Janus had a certain way of doing this and he was doing it wrong, comparatively, then it was just as he thought; that he shouldn’t have gotten involved. 

“But I don’t quite mind this either,” Janus finished softly and Logan exhaled the breath he didn’t realize was being held. As the silence began to press on, he started to wish he could figure out something to say to Janus’ kindness. Then he wondered if this was how Remus often felt.

As Janus took Logan’s empty syringe and quickly rinsed both of theirs in the sink, he explained their next and final step before they would be placed in the fridge until completion. Sealing the molds with their domed, other half, they would repeat the filling action with the condensed milk and gelatin mixture.

“Simple enough,” Logan said as he accepted the syringe that Janus handed him with a smile. This time, Logan offered his own small expression before the two set to work. After a few silent moments, he continued with a rather impulsive question. “Does Remus ever help you with this?” Surely he did; in the same way Logan found it impossible that Remus never expressed his gratitude to Janus, he couldn’t fathom that the two didn’t enjoy this together.

“Oh, no, never,” Janus answered immediately with an appalled tone. Logan blinked, his hand going still as he again reevaluated how he perceived their relationship. “The first and only time I tried to get him to help,” He continued, his own hands pausing to stare wide eyed and offended at Logan, “He ate three of my molds!”

Logan couldn’t help the small smile that curved his lips, though he tried to dismiss it quickly by pursing them and looking away. The distress Janus clearly felt for something so simple was … a bit bewildering, but also very him, Logan decided. He got the sense that Remus would love to help, if he could, but that he had the habit of ruining Janus’ things in the process. With a heavy sigh, Janus went back to filling the molds and when Logan could keep the smile out of his voice, he continued.

“The other day he brought a few rocks from the Imagination to my room and asked what they were. He does that,” Logan glanced at Janus, “Stops by and asks questions like that, but when I located my geology kit, the first thing he did,” Logan smiled again, fondness creeping into his tone despite himself, “Was tear the handbook pages in excitement,” Janus clicked his tongue and shook his head, empathizing with the tragedy, but Logan continued, gesturing in small ways now. “It was completely illegible,” Logan paused, recalling the fear in Remus’ expression as he apologized profusely, handing the torn book back by the tips of his fingers. 

“Was?” Janus prompted quietly, watching Logan’s faintly passionate storytelling from the corner of his eye.

“At least for its intended use as a portable guide. If you pushed the papers together, you could piece the sentences but,” Logan paused again and shook his head, “He insisted on writing it, all of it. He took one of my notebooks right there and stared down at the little book and wrote everything he could make out,” Logan laughed dryly and resumed filling the mold he had stopped on. “I bet he has the entire handbook memorized now.”

“He adores you very much then,” Janus said without reservation, without even looking away from the molds. The conclusion caught Logan off guard and silence persisted as he waited for Janus to elaborate; but no such continuation came. Again Logan found himself holding his breath, but it wasn’t like he didn’t know that Remus loved him. He said it at least ten times a day. It just felt very different coming from someone who’s known Remus for so long, Logan guessed. It’s different when someone else can see love that easily.

“I know,” Logan whispered sentimentally after a while, and wondered in the enduring silence of their work if he should’ve said that Remus loved Janus very much, too.

- - - - -

Janus paused on the bottom step of the Dark Side stairs as he spotted Logan, bent slightly at the waist and jotting something down on a rather large stack of white paper. The astringent smell of Sharpies was unavoidable. While it certainly wasn’t new at this point for Logan to be found here on a casual basis, it was a bit strange that Remus wasn’t in the immediate area.

“Hello, Logan,” Janus greeted in a smiling tone as he continued into the room and approached the workspace that was their dining table. 

“Hello,” He returned the friendly gesture without tearing his eyes away or stopping his hand from drawing a simplistic symbol in one of the dated squares.

“What brings you here without your typical consort?” Now peering over Logan’s shoulder, Janus realized it wasn’t just any stack of paper he was writing on, but a wall calendar.

“Remus just went to the bathroom. He’ll probably be back in a few moments.”

Janus made a soft sound of understanding and continued to watch. Capping the silvery marker he had been using, Logan switched it out for a dark blue one. Intrigue growing, Janus observed as he neatly drew an open circle, then some complex looking arrow shape beside it. Next Logan drew an odd arch shape on the other side of the square beside another open circle, this one with a dot in the center. Then two smaller circles diagonal from each other connected with a single line. Finally, next to that symbol, he drew a half crescent moon. Janus’ brows furrowed delicately. 

“Logan, dear?” 

“Hm?”

“What on Earth are you doing?”

Logan blinked and paused before slowly standing from his leaning position. He … didn’t really know where to begin. Talking about his hobby with Remus was one thing; while his boyfriend readily listened to his enthusing and had even offered his artistic expertise in ‘livening up’ the calendar today, the idea of explaining it to Janus felt like a different beast altogether. Why was that? Logan observed his feelings on the matter, staring down at the calendar. The writing there was neither impressive nor sloppy, but a typical middle ground of insignificantly informative, in his opinion. Mindlessly, he brought the marker up to his chest and capped it with a decisive click. His stomach became uneasy imagining himself divulging eagerly, about anything, to Janus. Why was that?

“I’m,” Indulging in a pseudoscience? Partaking in something that is unreliable and interpretive at best? Having an indemonstrable belief system? Being less than serious? Logan turned to face Janus, his arms falling to his sides. “Calculating planetary positions and hypothesizing on their potential,” Spiritual? Emotional? “Financial, political, and interpersonal ramifications,” Logan’s heart raced. He counted the beats. One, two, three, fourfivesixseveneight--

“I see,” Janus said reflexively but then paused to digest the sentence. It sounded interesting enough to him; foresight was high on his list of well regarded practices. Whatever helped in that pursuit, Janus found at least a little compelling. Though he cocked his head slightly and gave Logan a once over. Was he acting rather … defensive? There was no lie in his words, Janus would’ve immediately known after all, but he got the sense that he wasn’t being painted the full picture here. 

A bead of sweat dripped down the back of Logan’s collar. Janus wasn’t looking at him in any specific way, there wasn’t anything interrogative about the silence, in fact Janus’ expression was rather polite. Logan had noticed at some point that Janus looked at him more like an equal than any of the other accepted Sides. In return, he had come to trust the intrigue frequently found in his expressions. And yet he was anxious. Why? Historically, talking to Janus had never made him nervous before, sharing in pastimes together hadn’t either, so … why did he feel like sinking through the soles of his shoes and never speaking about this, ever again?

“Well,” Janus broke the silence with his entertained tone. “You were always into space and such, I shouldn’t be surprised.” 

Logan inhaled through his nose, more suddenly than he meant to, and realized only now there was a tension in his hands as they twitched to relax. Janus didn’t see anything wrong with his description of the hobby, but the fact was that he didn’t know the whole story. Logan’s explanation was, of course, accurate; accurate enough to not count as a lie, but Janus’ suspicion was warranted. A suspicion that was much closer to curiosity than Logan realized in his paranoid attempt to seem and sound more serious than necessary.

“Yes,” He mumbled and turned back around to the calendar. Janus watched with narrowed eyes as Logan placed the marker back with the rest, seeming to have a particular order that they belonged in. After a pause, he diverted his attention to the open, beige colored notebook on the other side of the table. Logan began to lightly drag a finger along the bottom of a written line of symbols there. Janus could only assume he was committing their exact meaning to memory in a way only someone like Logan could.

“So tell me,” Janus interrupted again as he elegantly sat himself down at the table opposite Logan, whose train of thought halted abruptly. “What do those symbols mean?” Janus asked, cradling his cheek in his palm as he reached the other hand to point at the five dark blue markings Logan had made. Logan swallowed and blinked slowly, bracing himself. There was no way he made it out of this conversation with Janus’ opinion of him remaining positive.

Keeping his tone as neutral as possible, Logan then dragged his finger along each symbol as it was defined, meeting Janus’ inquisitive eyes with his own hesitant gaze.

“Full moon,” Open circle, “Sagittarius,” arrow. Logan directed his finger to the other side of the square, dictating that those two symbols didn’t correlate in a direct sense to the next three. “Gemini,” He continued, pointing to the odd arch shape, “Sun,” dotted open circle, “Opposition,” the two smaller circles connected by the thin line, “Moon,” Logan finished at the half crescent moon shape.

A puzzled look flashed across Janus’ face before the words connected like a puzzle, forming a sentence he understood theoretically but in no literal way; full moon in Sagittarius, Gemini sun, opposition moon … which was in Sagittarius then? Janus could only guess. These were phrases he’s heard before, of course, but Logan said them in a way that felt far more significant than any well-rated horoscope app had.

Logan let Janus ruminate on his explanation, hoping no more questions came at the detriment of his reputation. Again he started to consult his notebook, but it was only a few moments before Janus spoke again.

“So … what’s the significance of … all that?” He asked and Logan’s mind raced in the same way Remus, Roman, and Virgil could speak at a mile a minute.

“The significance,” Logan began after what felt like much longer than a moment of struggling to quiet his mind, “Is as I said; potential financial, political, and interpersonal ramifications,” He completed in a mumble before clearing his throat, unable to meet Janus’ eyes anymore, causing the latter to frown.

The fact that Logan was growing increasingly uncomfortable wasn’t lost on Janus, of course. He watched the gears churning in Logan’s mind as mental gymnastics were performed. It wasn’t a secret to Denial why he felt discontented currently; being taken seriously was paramount to this Side and everyone had a long history of finding Logic to be a joke. After years of being dismissed without advocacy, Janus could only hope to display a patience and interest deep enough for Logan to find himself comfortable in his presence again.

“As you said,” Janus agreed, dismissing that superficial statement. “But what about that one, specifically? It’s in blue so I assume it has some significance.”

Logan’s lips tightened; where did he even begin? Explaining the correspondence between phenomena and full moons? Diving into Jupiter’s mythology and Sagittarius’ significance to Thomas, personally, as his moon ruler? The unease in his stomach shifted up his throat.

“Oh hey, Dee!” Remus suddenly interrupted as he returned from down the hall. If Logan were a man of lesser self control, he may have jumped right out of his skin.

They both turned to blink at the entrance, Logan a second too late as Remus dotted an affectionate kiss to his cheek. Rigidly, he gave a half-lipped smile to the gesture.

“Lolo telling you about his nerdy Astrology stuff?” Remus plopped himself into a chair between them at the table.

“Just a little,” Janus said as he sat back and crossed his legs.  

“Booooo,” Remus cheered, giving Logan a thumbs down before grinning. He leaned over to peer at the dark blue symbols that were drawn while he was away. “Full moon in Sagittarius,” Remus read like he was fluent in this second language Janus had only just learned the existence of. “And uh,” He paused, cocked his head in order to read the markings easier, “Gemini sun, uh, what’s that one again, Lolo?” Remus pointed at the connected, diagonal circles. 

Janus narrowed his eyes. He got the sense that Remus could easily say what that sign meant, but had asked Logan in order to hear him talk about it. How sweet.

“Opposition,” Logan repeated like a sigh as he reached to scratch the back of his neck. “Since the sun is in Gemini for most of this month, it will be opposing the moon’s position in Sagittarius that day.”

“Does that spell trouble for Tommyboy?” Remus asked mischievously, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet up on the unused seat behind Logan.

“On the contrary,” Logan responded, opening his mouth to continue but then quickly closing it as the corner of his vision registered Janus again. 

The frown on Janus’ lips grew deeper as he silently observed the two. It seemed to come down to him and his effects on Logan’s nerves; the assumption that he would dismiss him like Patton, Roman, and Thomas, or say that he was wrong like Virgil.

“Please,” Janus urged in his most genuine tone as he held up his hands like a white flag. “Pretend I’m not here, do carry on.”

Logan inhaled slowly and seemed to take his time believing that sentiment. Another mental stalemate began; Logan wrestled with the expectations he held himself to, the assumed expectations Janus had of him, and the misconception that his hobby would be seen as silly or less than in any way. The silence dragged on until Remus broke the tension once more.

“Yeah, c’mon Lolo. Dee listens to me rant about stupid shit all the time. He’s got the patience of a Saint, I swear,” Remus smirked at Janus, who then reached out to pull affectionately on his partner’s ear.

“Like I have a choice with you,” Janus mumbled fondly, lacing his voice with thick sarcasm. 

Quickly, Remus turned his head like a baited shark and bit after Janus’ hand as it was retracted, narrowly missing the appendages with his teeth. Janus rolled his eyes and Remus beamed before shifting in his seat and staring up at Logan expectantly.

Logan’s chest burned with some unfamiliar feeling as he watched the clearly loving display. Naming emotions certainly wasn’t his strong suit, but whatever it was tightened his throat and made swallowing difficult. As usual for him, the feeling was quickly pushed away.

Which caused it to land directly into Denial’s jurisdiction. Janus had long perfected the art of remaining stoic in the face of blindsiding emotions that weren’t his own; which of course included now, as the denial of jealousy swiftly punched him in the stomach. Janus’ breathing stopped as he waited for the familiar pang of envy to subside, knowing by instinct that the originator stood before him.

“I suppose,” Logan continued after a moment before clearing his throat. “It is on the contrary that Thomas will be experiencing anything negative on this day or the two previous days leading up to this full moon,” He reached to flip a page in his notebook, revealing a neatly drawn chart of dates and signs. His finger rested decisively next to three in particular. “The moon will be in Sagittarius, opposing the current sun sign; Gemini. This is particularly good for Thomas since he has a natal Sagittarius moon.”

“Laaaaaame,” Remus exaggerated belligerently. Having been through this before, Logan gave a renewed half smile, knowing Remus only found Thomas’ lack of misfortune ‘lame’ and not the inherency of his explanation.

Janus exhaled finally as the emotional turmoil in his stomach subsided with Logan’s contentment. His chin raised curiously, eyeing the revealed page. This all sounded fascinating. He got the feeling that there was so much more to this topic, and that he would be very willing and rather eager to listen to it all as long as it was coming from Logan.

“Tell me, Lolo,” Remus said in a dark voice, frantically leaning forward, splaying his palms on the table and disregarding the way his quick movement made Logan’s markers roll away. “Do your charts and shit say when he’ll die?”

“No,” Logan sighed and rolled his eyes. The air turned sweet and Janus’ brows raised despite himself. “Even if they did, I wouldn’t tell you. It’d be incredibly subjective anyway,” Logan gestured dismissively and turned away, catching sight of Janus’ intrigued smirk. The expression made him gulp. “It’s all incredibly subjective,” He continued, now in a mumble as he went to close his notebook. 

Hastily, Logan began to gather the haphazard markers like he planned on packing his project away for the day. Lie and jealousy aside, Janus found himself invested.

“Well,” He began as Logan took a step back from the table to stare at the floor, seeming to have lost a marker in Remus’ chaos. “I thought it was all rather … enchanting,” Janus flirted unashamedly, producing the green hued utensil between his fingers with a curled smile. Logan blinked, the tips of his ears going red. “You’ll tell me more sometime?” Janus insisted, turning the thing in his grip and offering it more pointedly.

Logan swallowed and reached to quickly pluck the object from Janus’ fingers. 

“Sure,” He sighed, suddenly feeling like he had agreed to something rather damning.

“Delightful.”

Chapter One || Chapter Two

[hypfic]

Hey, hello and welcome!! Congrats on the blog and i have you have fun writing the request!

I would like to req MTC who is overprotective of their s/o respectively, if that's not much of a hassle to you. Thanks!

aaa sorry these took so long to get to! I’ve had these sitting in my wips and I FINALLY finished them :D 

I hope you enjoy! 

Samatoki [ 碧棺 左馬刻 ]:

Samatoki’s overprotectiveness takes the form of possessiveness. He knows that in a sticky situation that you can handle yourself, but he likes to let it be well known who’s you are

You aren’t surprised at all with Samatoki’s protectiveness and possessiveness. You honestly expected it a little going in

Whenever the two of you are out in public, eyes always follow you. Not only because you’re walking in hand with Samatoki, but because of the piercing glares he gives anyone and everyone who does as much as look your way

At the beginning of your relationship, Samatoki wasn’t keen on PDA, but one particular incident set him off 

The two of you were out on a weekend at a local bar when a man from a rival family approached you. 

Samatoki had stepped out for a moment to speak to someone, and when he got back he saw the other man too close to you for his liking 

He immediately yelled at the man from across the bar, causing you to shake your head and blush 

“Sorry, I’m already here with someone, thanks for the offer though!” You smiled as you stood up

As soon as you were within Samatoki’s reach, a strong arm was secured around your waist. You looked up to see your boyfriend with a grimace on his face

You stood on your toes and kissed his cheek before fishing two cigarettes and a lighter from your bag. You handed him one, lighting your own before igniting his in a cigarette kiss 

Whenever you were in a situation where Samatoki could be possessive, you could handle yourself and take control, but it was always fun to see how your boyfriend acted afterward

Ever since that night, whenever the two of you were out, an arm would always be around your waist or a hand in yours.

Occasionally when his hands on you aren’t enough, Samatoki would pull you in for a kiss, eyes always glaring over your shoulder at whoever was daring to look your way

Jyuto [ 入間銃兎 ]:

Jyuto also expresses his overprotectiveness through possessiveness, although not to as high of an extent 

As an officer, he knows how dangerous the world can be. He knows that you can handle yourself if you ever needed to, but he’d rather not think about you ever having to do that

He’s traditional in the sense of wanting to keep you out of harm's way and looking out for you wherever the two of you may go

Making sure the two of you aren’t out too late is a habit he’s made, he’d rather not do police business on a date night and continue the evening at home 

When you go off somewhere on your own, Jyuto always makes sure that you text when you arrive at your destination in one piece. 

He always insists that he should drive whenever the two of you go out, as well as making sure he knows anyone you’re going out with. None of this is out of jealousy, he just wants to make sure you’re safe 

Jyuto gets possessive whenever the two of you are in the red light district, surprisingly not because of any physical dangers, but because of the people who think they have a chance with you

Maybe part of it is because of his protectiveness and desire to keep you free from danger, but he hates when other men look at you. 

A glance or holding eye contact when you speak to them is fine, but if they dare look you up and down or stare at you for too long, you find yourself in Jyuto’s arms. 

He had no shame when it came to PDA. Absolutely none. If he saw the need to, he would spin you around and pull you in for a kiss. 

One time after a drunkard got too close for comfort, Jyuto moved his arm from around your shoulders to under your hips, lifting you bridal style and carting you out of the bar

You were a flustered mess, but you also found it endearing. Giggling you leaned up and kissed his lips. “Not a fan of drunks?”

“Absolutely not. I should go back and arrest that bastard, he’s been on our radar for weeks.”

“The station’s radar or yours?”

“Both.”

Rio [ 毒島 メイソン 理鶯 ]:

Rio is rather silent in his protectiveness, but he’s definitely the most adamant about it 

He knows you don’t need to be guarded like a damsel in distress, but he makes sure that you know how to protect yourself if he’s not there to protect you 

He insists that you let him teach you self defense martial arts and other methods he learned in the navy

It’s fun learning from Rio, he always knows your limits and how to push you just enough to make sure you make steady progress

Having his strong hands touch your arms and your waist while he corrects you is especially comforting, and his attention to detail is unnecessarily adorable

Rio also shows his protectiveness in small gestures when the two of you are at home

Little things like turning pot handles away from the edge of the stove or spotting you while you’re up on a ladder 

Besides being protective of you in the literal sense, he’s protective in your relationship as well

Rio is a bit of a tease and will wait till the last minute to make an appearance and scare off anyone who oversteps your boundaries 

He has a rather intimidating presence, so his overprotective gestures usually come in the simple form of standing behind you and looking over your shoulder 

Half the time you don’t realize he’s there until whoever is in front of you excuses themselves suddenly with a strange look on their face 

You always have a short moment of confusion before turning around and smiling once you see Rio

After the first incident of the night, Rio makes sure that he’s always by your side and doing something so that people know that you’re his

It’s little things like a hand on your back or shoulder, an arm around your waist, or holding your hand

You reassure him by kissing his cheek and hooking your arm around his, making sure your bodies are always touching even if it’s the smallest ways

[nafeary]

Napoleon, Theo, Dazai, and Jean reacting to College Student!MC Stressed by Deadlines

Requested by @hqissodelicate:

hey toni boo, sara/delicateikemenmemes here ❤ i've been Going Through It with school 😔 so i was thinking of how my boos napoleon, theo, dazai & jean would react to MC who's a (stressed, exhausted) student who got yeeted to the mansion in the midst of a bunch of deadlines? thank you boo & i hope you're drinking your water 💙😤

✧✎ A/N: I’m sorry it took me this long to finish... but this was super fun to write and it helped me get back into writing after such a long break due to school bs. I’m not too satisfied with Dazai’a and the haphazard scenario/headcanons mush, but I still quite like this I think. Thank you for the request dear! Take care and drink water, everyone!

Warnings: Stress and mild mentions of anxiety, and like one mention of sexual intercourse

Napoleon Bonaparte

“You’re just a chore, after all.”

You whirled around. “Don’t act like your job is going to be that hard,” you could only scoff in annoyance, “I’m going to be inside my room all day, anyway.”

At first, Napoleon was slightly confused by your statement. Wouldn’t you want to explore this new world at all? But according to code, he’d just smirk and go (sleep) do smth

And true to your statement, you did stay inside your room for the most part

It’s not like your quadrillion essays would write themselves

It’s not like your college would just excuse your tardiness

It’s not like—

“Nunuche, you sure you don’t need a break from... whatever you’re doing?”

Napoleon was quite suddenly standing besides you, trying to read the mess that you’ve created.

“And who gave you permission to enter?”

“Me, obviously. I did have the impression that you were in danger, judging from the amount of curses I perceived.”

You could have died from embarrassment. Of course he had to hear your yells of frustration, stemming from the fact that your laptop was out of order, that you had no idea how to use ink properly, and—

“Have you realised that you regularly zone out?”

“I suppose? But if you wouldn’t mind, I really need to finish...” you trailed off, gesturing to the papers in front of you.

However, at his inquisitive gaze, you decided to explain that these were essays that could very well decide how you’d pass university, and, upon further inquiry, elaborated how a modern student’s life looked like

He never interrupted you unnecessarily, only to ask questions when a concept was too modern for him to comprehend

Your cursed assignments certainly made your life in the past harder to enjoy, but it also brought you and the emperor closer than ever

Unable to access the internet—or visit the college library—you had no proper sources for you references (considering that Comte’s library had no modern content, naturally)

You also didn’t want to bother Sebastian, especially since him and Comte had shown so much understanding for your peril that they practically forbid you from helping him out around the mansion

Their reasoning didn’t make you feel less bad though

Hence, you only had one option left that could complete your last essay

Which oh-so conveniently encompasses the Napoleonic Wars, something you truly did not want to burden him with

“Napoleon? Remember those essays that I have to finish for my university courses?”

“Of course.”

You were twiddling your thumbs, contemplating whether your grades are worth revisiting unpleasant memories, aka the taboo of the mansion

Abruptly, he grabbed your cheeks with just enough force to turn you away from looking at your feet, but not enough to inflict pain. “If there is anything I can help you with, I’d never shy away from it.”

Begrudgingly, you inquired him about his reign with as little focus on the gruesome details as possible your professor be damned

And holy shit, he’s amazing at writing? And Not just cringey love letters? Panty Sniffer Napoleon brrrrr

As you grew closer, he’s spoil you with vitamin-rich snacks (going as far as asking Arthur and Sebastian for medical advice)

He enjoys carving cute shapes out of fruits and eggs because he knows that their and his adorable presence will prompt the perfect amount of distraction to allow a small moment of rest

Says that it’s his duty as your guard and boyfriend to take care of your overworking habits

Expect frequent complaints from your beau, ranging from “how could they assign so many essays? Aren’t students just humans, too?” to “‘Reasons Why Edison Is Better Than Newton’? Do they even know what they’re talking about? Tch!”

Theodorus Van Gogh

You gleefully indulged in his charades for the first few days. They were a welcome distraction from your college work, after all

But the procrastination was accompanied by guilt, your anxiety building up every second you spent helping Sebastian with the chores, and gallivanting around town with Theo

A week passed before your sense of responsibility finally kicked in. So when Sebas came to wake you up just as the sun peaked past the horizon, you were already scribbling away on some sheets you’d found in your drawers

“Ah, good morning, Sebastian-san.”

“Good morning... what are you writing, if I may ask?”

“Just some essays for my college courses...” you said, glancing dejectedly at your notes.

Now that you didn’t have access to the internet, and your laptop’s battery was all used up, it made your work all the more tedious, but you had to set your teeth and do this.

“Give me 10 minutes, and I’ll join you in the kitchen.”

He had wanted to argue, but you didn’t let him. And when he saw you leaving the house with Theo later in the afternoon, he could only shake his head.

You felt like you owed the art dealer, especially since you blurted out his secret the literal next moment, so you committed to helping him while also keeping up with your work

Although, him calling you dog wasn’t nice either—even though, according to Sebas’ explanation, Hondje wasn’t exactly the equivalent to mutt

That cycle continued for days. Helping out around the mansion, getting pulled around by Theo, and writing your essays deep into the night

Not to mention all the worries that pressured your shoulders further and further into the ground

You were missing so many group project deadlines, disappointing people that relied on you... it was safe to say that sleep did not come easy, if barely

Just before you arrived at your room after a late night art exhibit did your body decide to fail you, tripping over nothing multiple times.

It prompted Theo to call you out before you could even think of rushing past the door, steadying you with a hand more gentle than you had ever experienced it to be.

“Sebas informed me that you’ve been working yourself to death.”

You silently cursed the butler. “I haven’t—“

“Give me your laptop.”

Perplexion ran across your mien, wondering how he could possibly have remembered such a modern detail from your countless rambles. “It’s batt— it doesn’t work right now, so it’s not like it would stop me from working.”

Arguing with the devil was a mistake.

He snaked his arms around you, holding the door handle in place with one hand while the other still kept you upright. “I don’t care whether you work or not, I’m not your mother. And regardless of its abilities, hand it over, knabbletje.”

What other choice did you have but to comply?

He ordered—yes, ordered—you to go to bed right that instant

If you hesistanly ask him to do the same (we all know what a hard worker he is), he’ll just press a guileless kiss to your forehand, telling you not to worry about him

The next morning, you were already worrying for your baby’s safety within the sadist’s hands when the devil invited himself into your room

“Ever heard of knocking?”

“Morning to you, too, Hondje.” He sent you an overly handsome smirk, handing you the laptop tucked underneath his arms. “You won’t be able to use that spider web Sebas told me about, but writing should work.”

You stared at Theo in disbelief, all the while internally laughing at him misinterpreting the World Wide Web. Deciding to trust in him, you clicked the power button. And sure enough, it sprang to life. “What... how in the world did you...”

Leo overheard you and Sebas talking about solar energy sometime… hush, just run with it

He fell into the seat next to you, propping his chin upon his fist. “I didn’t do anything. Just asked Sebas whether there was a way for you to use this. Leonardo took notice and tinkered around with it. Don’t ask—ah!”

You threw your arms around his shoulders, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. “Thank you for taking care of me, Theo.”

Would you have lifted your face, then you’d have caught a glimpse of the vermillion shading his cheeks. “I didn’t do it to help you. I simply can’t risk having you become a liability at work. That’s all.”

Anyway, tsundere tendencies aside, you know what another big factor of dating Theo is?

King if you’re not allergic, understandably, if so, he’ll change his clothes before even thinking of visiting you

On days that you decide to be especially stubborn, he pulls you outside, all the whilst whistling for the jolly golden retriever

And as soon as he comes running, your mind goes brrrrr cute dog

Although, he’ll try his best not to distract you from work. He knows from personal experience that it’s a much bigger annoyance than help

Thus, he’ll certainly use his connections and amiable rip Shakes relationships with the residents to help you out with the research process

Also, with his superior memory, he knows what generally makes you happy and relaxed, so he’ll be his usual observant self to decipher just what would help you perfectly relax/finish your work

Hardworking boi, please love him

Dazai Osamu

Dazai is the type of person that doesn’t mind upsetting people and risking someone’s disdain if it supports that person in the long run

And he’s able to read people like books, so it shouldn’t be surprising that he knows you’re overwhelmed before you even realize it

You’ve been going to sleep too late and waking up too early? He’ll gently force you (if you’re 100% against it, he won’t do it ofc) to sleep beside him, making sure that you won’t rise with the sun for once

You’ve been exposing your wrist to heavy sprain? He’ll teach you some handy-dandy 5 Min Crafts techniques that are guaranteed to send your hands on a vacation

You've been suffering from writer’s block? Time to go on a lovely stroll through nature with your boo

Your shoulders and neck are hurting beyond sanity? He swears by hot springs, so the thermae is his go-to for when you need to relive some muscle kinks

He never fails to procure the perfect amount of bubbles and temperature. And depending on how comfortable you are with it, he’ll offer to wash your hair.

And since dude got Disney princess hands, you most probably fall asleep, but our man is there to hold you above the water

His bare thighs are an added bonus, sending your mind into spirals faaaar away from college work

After you’re done bathing, he’ll ask you whether you’d like him to braid your hair (if it’s long enough), and his Disney princess hands will not disappoint

In the beginning, it was incredibly vexing to have a security cam in the form of a handsome man always on the qui vive

But at some point, you started embracing Dazai’s overwhelmingly passive—you knew exactly what he was doing whenever he’d do something random—protectiveness

Especially since it didn’t only help you complete your work; on the contrary, you were always excited to spend time with the Japanese writer

But that didn’t curb your confusion at the whole debacle. Why was he this focused on your well-being?

So, you decided to confront him

“Dazai?” Once again, you were relaxing in his arms, his fingers threading through your hair lulling you into a dreamlike state.

He ticked his head to the side, pulling your entwined hands closer towards his heart. The sun streamed into the run at just the right angle, yet the golden light was not as bright as his vivid citrine orbs.

You sighed, unable to look at his stupid handsome face for too long. ”Why is it that you insist on taking care of me?”

“Someone has to, Toshiko-san.”

You’d have blurted out your feelings if it wasn’t for the sudden embrace you found yourself in. As guileless as it appeared, you knew he was trying to stop you from acting on your thoughts.

Deciding that you didn’t want to pressure him further (after all, you knew that he had a hellish first life), you accepted the unclarity of his feelings—even though his actions spoke loud enough for you to understand.

It was that day that you decided to repay him for all he’s done for you

And you wouldn’t let him yeet himself through a window in an attempt to evade the love sent his way this time

Even if it took decades, you wanted him to feel just as safe and loved as you did in his company

You were glad to have such a caring man by your side who helps you with managing you self care

You could only hope that he’d allow himself to be treated the same way

Please just take our love, boo. We love you

Jean d’Arc

Well fuck, how could he possibly help someone who’s stressed when he himself is a 24/7 McDonalds that only sells Chicken McStress?

Anywho, I feel like he’d be the complete opposite of Dazai when confronted with a stressed MC

He’d care just as much, of course, but he thinks that it would be better to give her space, since he himself understands the desire for solitude well

So yeah, I can see him not going out of his way to check up on you if you weren’t super duper close friends/lovers IF it wasn’t for his friend Napoleon

After all, it was him who gave your boyfriend a lil talk, convincing him that, perhaps even if someone needs space, they probably still need someone to look after them

Living with Jean is basically Ted Talks everyday

Anyway, he embarked on his journey to hopefully help you and and to relieve some stress that was wearing you down (according to the statement of several residents)

And, finding himself halting abruptly, our pessimistic little bean realised that he’s got zero idea what did help you attain bliss

So he opted for the next best option—things he knew that made his friends relax

Plan A

Hearing a few oddly reluctant raps on your door, you went to open it. As soon as you did, the beautiful man who’d captured your heart entered your vision, your eyes finding his amethyst ones immediately.

You two stayed like that for a moments, only breaking eye contact when he sighed and simultaneously thrusted a mug into your hand, already in the process striding back to his own room.

“Uhm… Jean? I’m a bit busy right now, but would you like to come in?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Don’t you find it inappropriate for a man to enter your room, mademoiselle?”

“Jean,” you giggled at his archaic mindset, gently rubbing your thumb between his brows to even out the crease. “We’ve had sex before, you know. Of course you ca—“

Wrong thing to say. He stormed past you, vermillion cheeks practically leaving a trail.

Chuckling to yourself, you turned to the mug’s contents. “Hm? Hot chocolate?”

Plan B:

“If this doesn’t harbor your discomfort…” Your boyfriend reluctantly stood in your room’s corner, standing straighter than a rod.

Frankly, your essays have kept you entirely too busy, and you longed for the warmth of the French man’s feather-like embrace.

“On the contrary, I enjoy your presence.” And you went right back to scribbling away.

Jean frowned. “Haven’t you been writing stories since this morning?”

“They’re not stories… and, yeah? I believe so.”

Stepping towards your seated form, he extended his hand; you grabbed it without thinking twice. “Is everything alrig—whoa!”

With the ease of a seasoned soldier, he picked you up before haphazardly tugging you into bed with bewilderment maring your features. “You should sleep.”

“—what?”

He stared at you blankly, as if expecting you to fall into the land of dreams right that instant.

“Did something prompt,” you slipped your arms out from underneath the duvets, gesturing wildly, “this?”

It was hard to be upset with Jean, his clueless but genuine persona the reason why you fell for him, yet you couldn’t disguise the irritation coursing through your veins—you had work to return to, after all.

“I think you need to rest, mademoiselle.”

Your blinking made him avert his eyes, explaining quietly, “I am uncertain what supports your release of tension, so I thought that perhaps sleeping could help since it certainly does show affect with Napoleon.”

“Ah, and you made me hot chocolate since that’s what calms Mozart.”

After internally simping for his soft and wholesome dumbass energy, you pulled him to bed beside you, claiming that it would help you relax (but only after telling him that it was okay for him to ask for your preferences)

And falling asleep to the heartbeat underneath his broad chest is definitely a 5-star-resort vacation

He’d eventually ask his relationship advisor Napoleon whether it is okay to have you help them out with his reading/writing lessons (you

You, alongside Napoleon, steadily agreed, despite knowing that it was a ploy to keep you away from overworking

Please also love this boy, thanks

Tag List of the most wonderful sweethearts (just message me if you’d like to be added <3): @juminly @kisara-16 @sweetlittlemouse @thesirenwashere @nad-zeta @delicateikemenmemes

[depths-of-your-soul]

Hiii! I saw that requests are open so how about artist S/O? Like the reader would be very bored in class and they just, doodle todoroki, bakugou, and tamaki from afar with little notes beside the doodles like "i can't do his hair wtf is this" "why is he so adorable" "stOP MOVING I CANT GET YOUR HANDS RIGHT" and then one day they just saw the little doodles? Idk the thought of it makes soft- unless you already did something similar then I'm stoopid dhxbhxhd.

#Artist!S/o who doodles them during class

Pairs: Katsuki bakugou x reader, Shouto Todoroki x reader, Tamaki Amajiki x reader

Notes: I can personally relate with this s/o HAHAHA I always get annoyed whenever my subject moves around so much that it messes with the anatomy of the previous pose and I would ALWAYS get so irritated that I give up

A reminder that request is open y'all!! :D

Katsuki Bakugou

• Katsuki with his resting face is simply angelic

• You wouldn't think that such a person would cause such havoc around him

• And one of the few places where he has his guard down would be during class

• So naturally, you cry internally trying to draw his unnecessarily spikey hair because IT'S JUST ALL OVER THE PLACE  H E L P

• Where in the world does his hair even come from? It's just a bunch of spikes

• Does it hurt to touch? òmó

• Anyways, you just find his resting face so precious that before you knew it, you had 5 pages dedicated to just him

• And him alone

• Little did you know, Katsuki has been feeling your intense stares throughout the lessons

• 'What are you doing???'

• 'Stop staring at me stupid'

• Those were all in his head

• To be fair, you were being blatantly obvious

• So after class, he couldn't take it and went right to you with his iconic "ònó" face

• Swoopty Doodle Doo you have achieved "Bakuhoe fanclub prez"

• Seriously. That is embarrassing. Not for you but for him

• Everyone knows Katsuki has an 'above average' face (we all know he be hot)

• Expect curses and new found words to be thrown at you while everyone around hears of a daring fan who came out of the closet and presented their fanart to thy lord explosion murder

• It's not the drawings that made him embarrassed

• Oh no dear it's not

• It's the fact that YOU drew him when you could've just asked him in your free time at his dorm

• Truth be told, he might shout at you, but he never raises his fists against you when neither are sparring

• God please stop being oblivious

Shouto Todoroki

• Alright simps, let's get down to simping

• His face, oh so perfect

• Every nook and cranny, it's so beautiful that we cannot explain it in words

• His scar? Merely an addition to his hot and cool nickname

• Those red burns in contrast to his beautiful arctic coloured eyes tells a story that made him for who he is

• Such fine hair strands that flows oh so serene against the gentle breeze that flew great lengths to bless him with their cool element

• Okay I'll stop-

• Shouto is simply a living statue, it's in his genes

• He knows he doesn't look bad but that doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate compliments

• Drawing him will literally be a blessing in and of itself

• Such art should be loved by all forms

• Unlike Bakugou, he won't pretend to not feel your gazes

• He will make eye contact with you at some point and smile at you as a form of greeting

• HAVE YOU SEEN HIS SMILE

• Being so pretty is a sin

• After class, he would go up to you and ask what you are doing

• After you tell him and apologize, he will assure you that he doesn't mind and that he appreciates it

• He will however ask that you let him see it afterwards

• Of course, that is only because he wants to spend time with you

• This mochi is so cute I love him uwu

Tamaki Amajiki

• Don't lie to me

• I know you can see how cute and adorable he is

• His elven ear is his icon

• Your sketches have certain details that never fails to be missed - it's those blush at his ears and the way his mouth seem to always be pursed

• But then again, throughout your sketches, you would constantly go "OMAGAD STOO BEING SO CUTE I CANT HANDLE THIS CUTENESS OVERLOAD" and "Babey I love you but PLEASE stop moving"

• Those frustrations are worth it though, you know love it

• The way he stares off into space at times are the best times to sketch those details

• He may accidentally see you looking at him while he tries to glance at you from time to time

• But that doesn't really do anything except for the fact that his face will burn and he might cover his face out of embarrassment

• To be fair, you know you love seeing that side of him

• It just makes anyone go \(>w<)/

• Honestly, his movements are joy in and off itself

• This babey elf does enjoy the fact that you, too, glances at him

• Though he will admit, the attention does get a bit too much at times

• He won't go up to you after class though, he will instead hide in the comfort of Mirio's presence seeing as he might melt if you stare at him too much

• How did he find out you ask? Well, simple

• It's the cliche bumbparoo. But not with Tamaki oh no my dear not with this elven baby

• Mirio was too busy laughing and accidentally bumped into you... And voila you sketchbook went flying to the wall and opened at one of the countless pages of Tamaki

• Of course he saw, my dear. But... He may or may not have fainted from the affection

• Go talk to him! He may be shy, but he will be so glad that you even look at him

• I love this elf uwu

[youarejesting]

The Bomb

[Masterlist]

Beta: @juniethebug​ Rating: 16+  Pairing: Namjoon x Reader Genre: Mafia, enemies2lovers.  Trigger Warnings: mentions of Violence, Gore, Torture, Drinking and wetting yourself in public from fear and a full bladder during a gun fight. Character death. Words: 9.4k

Summary: The leader of a mafia should be calm collected and poised. He should live meticulously and know what he needs to do. Namjoon was that man, he had rules that kept his business running smoothly and nothing can get in the way of that. Can it?

[Part 2]

Kim Namjoon, the leader of the biggest mafia in Seoul, lived his life by many rules. His first rule, a man should only cry three times in his life. The first time is when a man loses his mother, the one who raises a man to be who they are worth mourning. 

The second when a man marries the love of his life and he shall weep tears of joy. The third and final time a man is allowed to cry is when he sees his first child born.

Pathetically sobbing against the dirty concrete while getting the life beaten out of you is not one of those three incidences. “I will ask you again, where is the payment I was promised?”

“He gave it to his daughter, used the money he was supposed to pay you, on his daughter; a beautiful emerald necklace. Something about it being her birthday and wanting to gift her with something as pretty as she is.” Yoongi scoffed, spinning the knife around his fingers a habit he had developed to keep his dexterous fingers busy.“Or at least that is what Hobi had to say after tailing the man all day. Just take the necklace from her pretty little neck; she doesn’t have to come with it.”

“The birthday party is tonight, a lavish affair for their daughter, every man, woman, and child from rich backgrounds were invited to the ball held at their Manor.” Jimin sighed, rolling some scotch in his glass.

“Be ready to leave in ten minutes.” Namjoon walked to the door, Jungkook opening it for him. A reminder of rule number fourteen; a powerful man never moves unnecessarily, which includes opening doors and stepping aside from someone.

Pulling on a black on black suit he fastened his Platinum Rolex to his wrist, in his classiest polished pair of dress shoes. Walking towards the front door, he stopped by the front door and Yoongi pulled open the suitcase, graced with the sight of two pistols both with a shiny custom nickel finish with gold filigree on the handle and barrel.

These were gifted to him by Taehyung, a man with an eye for the finest of arts. Just like the weapons he provided he was a beautiful young man with an innocent face. But he was a dangerous man and rule number ten. Never give the man who provides you with your weapons the chance to provide them for anyone else. Of course, naturally, that meant Namjoon hired him in an instant, not willing to let his enemies use his weapons dealer.

The boys were heading to the car; Seokjin was going to drive as he was the most sensible behind the wheel. Each piling in Namjoon looked at his watch and over the five individuals in the car.

“Should I tell Jimin to hurry up?” Taehyung said reaching for his phone, he was in the middle of texting when Namjoon placed his hand on the phone pushing it to his lap. 

“No need we leave without him, he knows the rules-”

“Rule number fifteen, a man is never late,” Jungkook nodded; he lived by Namjoon’s word and his rules. Knew them better than Namjoon did himself, wrote them down, and numbered them as the leader taught him each one.

The car door was shut by Seokjin who situated himself into the driver's seat and pulled away from the house. House may be a bit of an understatement even Namjoon thought so, officially titled the Kim Manor with four stories complete with east and west wings, staff quarters, elaborate gardens, and land. 

It was the picturesque home with lavish rooms headed to the front gates, a motorbike raced past and pulled up. Jimin climbed into the car with the others, grumbling about how the wind destroyed his hair. 

He ran his fingers through his hair trying to return it to its former perfection, once the gates spread open they headed on their way to the party. 

Each stepping out at the foot of the manor, fixing their hair and suits one last time before heading up the steps. “Your invitation, sir?”

Yoongi pulled out a gun and tapped it against the clipboard pushing it down so he could read it. “That's us there unchecked, sorry we are late, traffic is horrible at this time of the day,” the man swallowed thickly. 

“Of course Mr. and Mrs. Le pomme, you don’t look French?”

“It’s Ms. Actually,” Yoongi poked the man's chest with his gun. 

Namjoon turned speaking immaculate French to the young man and patted his shoulder. “Jungkook always learns a language, a man should never miss an opportunity to learn new things.”

Jungkook was writing the new rule down following behind them, Yoongi pushed the gun into his waistband and the group entered the manor. Walking the floor as a small unit they began analyzing the ballroom. 

Jimin had disappeared and Jungkook smiled gesturing to the young woman who was mingling a beautiful emerald necklace delicately nestled against her decolletage. Namjoon looked her over. She was stunning with her smooth skin and gentle curls. 

She was nothing like he expected, Namjoon thought she would have a dark tan and bleach blonde hair, with extensions and the latest trending nails and jewelry and shoes. 

But this woman. This gorgeous woman had pale skin with sun-kissed freckles, her lips were a soft velvety crimson. She wore a simple black dress but somehow managed to still be the most beautiful person in the room. He could gaze at her forever and never get tired.

You smiled feeling proud of your outfit, it was such an elegant and complicated piece, a sweetheart bodice with off the shoulder lace straps it was a thin and long dress that fell to your ankles showing off a pair of thin heels. 

It wasn’t a famous brand designer, no, you made this yourself there were many little fun hidden details. You were speaking with your friends when he approached. 

He was handsome, his profile was strong one you would remember easily he had a small scar on his eyebrow but it added so much character to his image. 

“Ladies,” he greeted the small group with a short bow, his eyes flicking up and meeting yours full of confidence and you gave a small friendly smile back. 

“Shall we dance?” He asked, and you, never to be overdone, agreed. You had never been asked to dance before. Especially not by someone this handsome.

“My name is y/n. You?”

“You may call me Namjoon,” he smiled and you blushed, looking at his dimples, he was so charming and cute. But there was something about him he took the lead and guided you through a slow waltz. Something you couldn’t put a nail on. Something… sinister..?

You gasped clutching his bicep gently. He saw the emerald necklace secure around your delicate neck. Your breasts strained against your dress with every breath. 

“You seem to be out of breath miss y/n?” His fingertips brushing gently across your décolletage. He too was breathing heavily from the physical activity of dancing. 

“A testament to your dance skills,” you tried to laugh back. 

“Perhaps we should get something to drink,” he took your hand and weaved it so your arm wrapped around his, “we can chat while you relax but I do apologize for being too enthusiastic.” 

“No, really, it is okay,” you protested, not wanting to seem too affected honestly it was embarrassing to get tired after one vigorous dance. 

“Indulge me,” Namjoon’s raspy voice reverberated so low you could have almost mistaken it for a purr, “I would very much like to steal a few extra moments with you” 

“Well then, I shan’t protest,” you gestured towards the refreshment table where he handed you a champagne flute. The two of you drank slowly his eyes locked on yours. 

“Sir,” a voice called politely, you were both pulled from your intense eye contact to see Your father flanked by two young and very handsome men. 

“Thank you for inviting me to your party tonight, sir.” Namjoon shook his hand firmly, his voice made you shiver, it wasn’t as light as it had been before, there was something clipped in his tone. Your former suspicions returned to you. Hard.

“Ah, Mr. Kim, I am glad you could make it, I didn’t think you would come to such a small affair?” Your father smiled, he was sweating a sign he was nervous but trying to hold his cool. 

“Dad is everything okay?” You took your father's pocket-handkerchief and dabbed his forehead. 

“Darling I would like for you to get some pictures with your mother. It is your birthday after all,” you looked at him curiously and almost yielded to his request when a firm hand caught your wrist. 

“Just a moment I would like to give you your birthday gift,” Namjoon smiled reaching into his pocket, his next statement seemed to cause the young man beside your father to scribble in a notebook. “A man must never come to a party empty-handed, especially not a birthday party.”

“Oh it’s okay, I don’t usually get presents anyway,” you were flustered by the prospect you always requested not to get presents to spare people the trouble of spending their money on material things. 

“That is a shame a pretty young lady like yourself should be spoiled daily,” a hot flush pinked your skin and it crept up your neck. 

He handed you a box wrapped in a small ribbon. She opened it to reveal an emerald bracelet just like the necklace she wore and he helped secure it to the wrist and smiled. 

“Emerald looks brilliant on you?”

Namjoon looked your father directly in the eyes watching the man sweat. Would he sell out his own daughter for his own safety? “Well darling, mister Kim and I are just going to do a quick spot of business”

“Okay,” you nodded, Namjoon looked over his shoulder and made a gesture to Jungkook and Yoongi to keep an eye on you. While following your weasel-like father to his study.

“I know why you are here and I am sorry, I had the money ready to give you but it was my daughter’s birthday and I couldn’t turn up empty-handed,” Your father said “I will get you the money by the end of the week.”

“You will as I will have collateral just in case your daughter will leave with me.” Namjoon threatened before adding an afterthought “tonight”.

“Please don’t hurt her, I will get you the money, I promise. Please.” He pleaded, dropping onto his knees. Namjoon felt his eye twitch in disgust. 

“You will give me the money, otherwise you will never see your daughter again.” 

You were feeling kind of awkward, the two young men accompanying you weren’t awful company, they just weren’t very talkative. 

“So you work with Namjoon?” you asked 

“Mmm…” one so graciously grunted in response

“What do you do?” you swayed from foot to foot trying to strike up some sort of conversation.

“Mister Kim is an entrepreneur,” The taller man said excitedly. You nodded; he very obviously liked his boss.

“You seem to enjoy working for him then,” You asked happily and the two nodded going back to standing around.

“Ah, you must be the birthday girl?” A sweet voice called your attention, “Wah, You are so beautiful miss y/n?”

“Have we met?” Already knowing you hadn’t met any of these men they were way too handsome for you to just forget. He had long legs accentuated by his high waisted trousers, his feet moved one in front of the other with all the grace and caution like a model in a field of landmines. He scooped your hand into his grasp and kissed your knuckle’s eyes searching your person and the room. “Park Jimin.”

Beside him was a taller young man who was boyish with big rounded ears that added so much youth to his face. “I do not believe we have ma’am and that is a shame” He also kissed your knuckles politely and threw you a grin. “Kim Taehyung at your service.”

“Tell me, miss Y/n. Do you like Painting?” Taehyung asked with a grin and you nodded 

“Though I am not good at it, yes.” You sighed while playing with your lace sleeve, you were currently surrounded by these very tall and intimidating men. “Do you like painting?”

“I enjoy it greatly my dear, would you be interested in painting with me?” He smiled brightly and you grinned feeling more relaxed.

“I would love to,” you grinned and they all got a text to their apple watches that they read and quickly dismissed from view.

“Miss y/n, we would like to hold a toast,” Jimin grinned, handing you a champagne flute. You nodded and Jimin led a toast celebrating your birthday, ending his short speech with. “You have to all drink it in one shot for the best of wishes for the birthday girl” 

You drank heartedly watching them all drink as well, the conversation continued and you were happily chatting about all different things when you started to feel rather drowsy. “I think I drank too much.” You giggled, feeling tired, a warm coat was draped over your shoulders it was super roomy and you felt yourself drift off.

There were strange sounds and lights passing over you periodically, though it stirred you it wasn’t enough to wake you fully. Only when your body had fought the immense fatigue did you wake. 

Everything was stale, the air, the room, life, for a moment you didn’t move. Your body was heavy and your head clouded. Taking a deep breath you sat up the lush blankets in their covers making noise against the soft satin sheet. 

The room wasn’t yours, the furniture was all a dark almost black lacquered wood, the bedding was also all black. It was a dark room with thick heavy curtains. 

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed you gripped the fourposter frame and stood upright nursing a slight ache behind your temples. 

The floor was a white marble, searingly cold against your feet. You looked down at the sweet emerald négligée, your jewellery was placed on the bedside table. 

Where you saw a glass of water, taking the glass you took a few sips quenching your thirst and pushing the bile rising in your throat back down. 

Crossing the room, trying to find a bathroom you opened the first set of double doors and found a walk-in wardrobe. There were many suits inside and a door caught your eye, perhaps it led to the bathroom. 

Opening the door you saw for the first time in your life real guns and weapons on display, wherever you are it mustn’t be safe. You picked up a small handgun like the ones you had seen in movies. 

You moved on to the bathroom, your bladder was urgently requesting relief. 

Opening the next doors you came across a bathroom like no other. It was all the same white marble, the feature was a round shower located in the middle of the room. With two curved sliding doors one on either side of the shower. 

Between curved glass panels were stone pillars one which had been carved into as to create shelves with built-in product dispensers. 

You saw a control panel on the outside of the shower and you wondered where the water came from but looking up at the hanging gold shower head that was almost as wide as the shower. 

You could imagine how it would feel, like warm rain falling against your skin. On your right as you stepped in was a beautiful counter with his and her basins in front of a finely detailed gold framed mirror. 

On the opposite wall to your left were shelves of fresh towels and a few cabinets and a seated area with a lady might do her makeup

Walking around the shower along the walls of towels you saw the toilet the door was made of frosted glass and you at this point didn’t care if you were quick you wouldn’t be seen. 

You flushed and paused waiting for any signs of people coming to get you but you heard nothing. 

You stepped out and circled the shower the back wall had a brilliant window and four short steps to a lifted square seating area with a cushioned window seat that lined the three of the square walls. 

There was a small coffee table in the middle and continuing on the last corner of the room just between the sitting areas and the counter was a square bath fit for perhaps four people. 

“Shit, where is she?” The sound made your pulse skyrocket, you needed to hide. You stood behind one of the big thick pillars on the outside of the shower. Hoping they would glance over the room. 

You froze the gun behind your back and you waited. “Is she in here?” A voice said, “doesn’t look like it,” another said

“Where is she?” A raspy voice spoke. 

“We don’t know, sir, Yoongi was posted outside and swears she didn’t leave so she has to be in here.” 

“Y/n?” He called, “are you okay, you are a guest here I promise.”

You snorted, “that’s funny, I don’t remember being invited.” 

“You don’t remember what happened last night do you?” He asked and you saw movement in the mirror. You grabbed the shower door and opened it stepping inside and pressing your back against a pillar. 

The problem was opening one door opened both, you used your free hand to reach beside you and slowly close the glass door. 

He smirked, grabbing the opposite glass door with his hand, stopping it from closing and pulling the door back open. “You won’t shoot me, baby, you are too gentle, hand it over and we can talk.”

You took a few heavy breaths psyching yourself up before pulling the trigger. Eyes squeezed shut only to hear a click, “shit!”

“You got some guts, I will give you that. I am proud, the weak don’t survive” He grinned, reaching outside the shower to the control panel and grinned “but you didn’t put a magazine in your gun, I could show you how?” 

He pressed a button and cold water poured down, jolting you awake. You tried to avoid the water but you were soaked, he stepped inside and shut the door with his men standing guard either side. 

“When you shoot a gun don’t close your eyes, baby otherwise how will you aim?” His chest pressed against yours and he grinned, taking your hand. “Now let’s get you dressed, and we can have a late breakfast.”

You struggled to pull your hand free, “why am I here?”

“Because your father borrowed five hundred thousand dollars from me and didn’t pay it back in time,” he gently tucked your wet hair behind your ear frowning at how it stuck to your neck, how the small négligée clung to your skin and how your body reacted to the cold. “So I took you as collateral for my money. How very gentlemanly of you.”

He took the gun from your hand and grinned, “you are spirited and I like that, but do not worry my only intentions are my money no harm will come to you, you are actually really interesting I would like to get to know you more.”

“Come let’s have breakfast baby,” he said over his shoulder

You followed him obediently your goal was to play your way out, cooperation until they let their guard down. Stepping out of the Taehyung standing there with a grin, and he held up a bag, “Hoseok and I bought you clothes?”

You nodded while taking the bag pondering a recurring thought, “who changed me last night?”

“I did, love but do not fret, I am a doctor and I assure you I did nothing inappropriate, while you were asleep. I would never, it’s too much work?” the short black-haired man spoke twirling a knife around his fingers. 

“Seriously, I don’t think Yoongi is human, we have taken him to so many brothels and he doesn’t get turned on at all,” you made eye contact with Yoongi who looked away causing you to crease your eyebrows. 

“I respect women and their professions?” Yoongi sighed, and you nodded thoughtfully walking into the bathroom and staring in the mirror. Eventually getting out of the wet garment and into a beautiful sundress. 

Processing your thoughts meticulously. He said you were here until your father paid his debt. He said he wouldn’t harm you. You had many unanswered questions but you felt a little reassured by these factors. You were still scared out of your wits but 

When you stepped out of the bathroom fully dressed you felt much better. The room was empty except Yoongi and you sighed looking at him. “I really didn’t do anything.” 

“I believe you, do not stress,” you patted his shoulder and with a deep breath in, you puffed up your chest, square your shoulders, and strode forward to the door with a firm nod. Yoongi navigated you through the halls behind you trying to keep up but you didn’t slow down. 

“Through to the end room two double doors,” he panted as you lost him down the hall, throwing the doors open, guns were drawn and all your new found confidence dwindled. 

“Ah, my apologies we usually knock.” Namjoon smiled holding his hands out to his men to stand down, “it’s polite.”

“Is kidnapping me polite?” You scoffed stomping towards him. “You said I am here till my father pays his debt and then I am free to leave correct?”

“Yes, that is—”

“So am I a prisoner?”

“You are a guest,” he said.

“So I can leave?”

“No.”

“Do you happen to know the definition of prisoner?”

“I believe you are referring to the noun of a person captured and kept confined by an enemy or criminal” he sighed “listen would you like to see a real prisoner? I can guarantee you are treated better than some of our other guests in this house”

Taken back by his words you looked away and sighed slumping into the empty seat at the other end of the table “who are you really?”

“I am Kim Namjoon, also known as RM,” he looked down the table at you. You were silent while eating, pondering this information biding your time before you could ask some more. 

“Now for business?” Namjoon gestured for his men to start talking. 

“Uh about mister Lee, I have successfully um… spoken?” The word came out as more of a question as Seokjin side-eyed you, “with him and he told me where we can find the um...”

“Hey, whatever it is you can say it, I’m not going to be scared by mere words.” You scoffed, stabbing a piece of cantaloupe. Namjoon nodded, approving Seokjin to talk freely.

“I interrogated him and we found the children he was trafficking returned them to their families,” Seokjin said “He is seriously sick in the head” 

“You are sure he has told you everything?” Namjoon ate his eggs and toast watching them over his cup of coffee. 

“I think so but to make sure I might cut off his remaining fingers and see what he has to say,” Seokjin nodded, “if he says no more well then I guess he is finished.”

“Hoseok what do you know?” Namjoon prompted the next man to speak.

“I know that Mr. y/l/n is accumulating stocks and seems to be on the way to paying his debt,” Hoseok said, your head snapped to him at the mention of your father and he cleared his throat with an awkward twitch of his head. “In other news, there is a young man named David from America is here to discuss a transaction on weapons”

“Anything else?” Namjoon pressed on, studying the man's reactions.

“A few minor gossip aspects from last nights party” you blinked turning to Hoseok who continued, “nothing serious but I will file it away for possible use in the future”

“I took out Mr Roth last night at the party.” Jimin threw the paper down and Namjoon picked it up. “Easily fooled as always.”

“Was there any complications?” Namjoon asked placing the paper down on the table and you walked around picking it up standing beside Namjoon as you read the information on the front page. 

Mob Merrymaking

On the evening of the 13th of July, Y/N was celebrating her 21st Birthday. The night was full of dancing, gifts and esteemed guests. The night which was intended to be a beautiful celebration turned sour when a Local Gang drugged and abducted the young woman. Mr Roth a nobleman of 45 had been found in the bathroom, his death was determined as substance abuse.

Mr. L/n stated “She will be fine wherever she is, she is a smart girl and too pure to get herself hurt” He further implied “...I also have no ill will towards any gangs that would warrant my daughter being taken or our family getting hurt. She is a beautiful woman and I think he must have taken a liking to her which leaves me to believe he won’t hurt her.”

Kim Industries which deals with Construction, real estate, property investments, restaurants bars and even Casinos are implied to be the gang in question. Kim Namjoon, as the owner of Kim Industries, was happy to oblige to the police investigation allowing his home to be thoroughly searched by police for the missing young woman. The residence came up empty of any incriminating evidence.

Where did the young woman go? Who is she with? If you have any information contact the police.

You were told to wait in the house while they all went to meet this American man named David, you refused saying if they left you alone you would either run away or set the place on fire. 

Namjoon grabbed you by the upper arm, “You are a young lady, start acting like one, we have treated you well and you have done nothing but act like a spoilt child.”

You had never been reprimanded so directly and harshly before, you were somewhat sheltered and sensitive to anger. You turned your head away from him as a few tears slipped.

“Sir, would you like me to stay behind with her?” Jungkook asked, watching his leader take out a pocket-handkerchief and take the young woman's chin firmly between his thumb and crooked finger tilting it up.

“She will come along, she must learn the severity of one's actions and the business we dabble in, to know the true weight of her actions,” He sighed, wiping your eyes. “Always carry a handkerchief Jungkook, women cry.”

“Of course! This way Miss,” Jungkook smiled softly, taking out his notebook to write the newest rule as he walked, “Namjoon is never late for a meeting.”

Escorted to the car as they all checked their weapons discussing their plan of attack, the trip took longer than you expected and at least an hour and a half had passed. The large juice you had at breakfast was making itself known. 

“Uh, I have to pee?” You whispered to Yoongi who frowned patting your knee in consolidation. 

“Namjoon doesn’t stop for anyone,” he sighed, “You will have to hold it,”

“What is it?” Namjoon commanded, not liking the whispering you were doing with his doctor.

“Y/n said she has to pee,” Yoongi said, “and I told her she will have to hold it.”

Namjoon nodded unphased “You should have gone before we left. Always pee before leaving the house.”

“I am not a child,” You hissed “I know when I need to pee and when I don’t, I wasn’t told the duration of this trip, to know whether I should go to the bathroom, and if I remember correctly I was ushered to the car before I had a chance to question it.”

“Keep your emotions out of your argument, you really are starting to sound like a child,” Namjoon said turning back to the conversation, there was nothing you could do.

The car pulled up, at a small furniture store, the men walked in lead by Namjoon and you were to stay outside with Yoongi and Seokjin. 

It was supposed to be a peaceful meeting, but you really had to go to the toilet. The two men were leaning on the back of the car, Yoongi smoking slowly and Seokjin complaining that it was bad for his looks to be near smoke. 

“Then fuck off,” Yoongi growled blowing large wisps of smoke purposefully at the other. The two bickered like a father of three and his bratty child. 

You really needed to go, to the point that you were eyeing a couple of bushes and hedges in the area. You, a high-class lady were contemplating urinating in public, that’s how serious this was. 

You looked at the two bickering again, Yoongi smirked, blowing more smoke at Seokjin who started coughing open-mouthed at Yoongi not bothering to cover his mouth. 

“You're nasty!” Yoongi grumbled, you rolled your eyes and snuck into the shop, there had to be an employee bathroom. 

You found a door but when you opened it you were met with men and guns, you immediately froze, all the muscles in your body tensing up.“Darling come here,” Namjoon said, gesturing you over to his side, and slipping you under his arm. “What are you doing here? I told you to wait by the car?”

“I have to pee,” you whimpered.

“Calm your expression,” he held your cheek and brought your eyes to his, “by my side, you don’t need to be scared, no one can hurt you?”

“That’s right darling we are just having a discussion, do you want to wait outside again we don’t want anything to happen to a pretty girl like you?”

You don’t know who said what but shots we fired and Namjoon pushed you across the room behind some big cabinets. When your back hit the tall boy you felt your bladder relax and you looked down warmth spreading down the inseams of your jeans. 

You were shaking in fear as the shots rang around the room, some hitting the furniture near where you hid. But worse than all that you were embarrassed and shocked never in your teen and adult life had you ever wet yourself. 

You stood sobbing, standing in a puddle of your own liquids. You took off your sneakers throwing them aside and you looked at your clothes. 

“Namjoon, we can’t find Miss Y/n?” Seokjin shouted ducking bullets, and brandishing his own gun. The distraction allowed their enemy to escape. 

“She is here you idiots, I asked you to do one job and you couldn’t even do that?” Namjoon said “Jimin, good shooting, David won’t make it home”

“That’s my job,” Jimin said proudly and you had to pluck up the courage to talk to them, but it was easier to hide climbing into a cupboard. 

“Miss Y/n, are you hurt?” Yoongi asked “huh?”

“What is it?” Namjoon said 

“Oh no darling, I am so sorry?” Yoongi’s voice was solemn. 

“If she is dead I am killing you both,” Namjoon growled his boots hitting the cement as he stomped over. 

“Stay there,” Yoongi said with authority, the footsteps stopped “Jimin take off your pants?”

“What why?” Jimin asked confused as to why the conversation shifted to him and his trousers. 

“Just do it?” Yoongi growled snapping his fingers. 

“None of you will step foot over here until I say so, if you do I will happily sedate you all and turn you into eunuchs, and that includes you Namjoon.”

“I am your leader?”

“And I am your elder, go wait outside, all of you?” They all stepped outside and Yoongi sighed walking to the cupboard holding Jimin’s trousers. 

“Come here darling,” he said, taking your hand and guiding you to the bathroom he told you to strip everything off except your bra. you sobbed. “Don’t worry I got more enjoyment out of seeing Jimin undress than redressing you last night, if you understand what I am saying.”

You realized and wiped your eyes, he pushed you to sit on the bench and he washed your legs in the sink and asked you to wash everything else yourself. 

You felt better, he apologized for not having any underwear for you and you slipped on Jimin's pants and fastened the belt. The last thing you would need is to expose everything and Yoongi gave you his undershirt. 

He walked you out and Namjoon looked relieved when he saw you emerge. “Are you okay?”

“No I am horrified, I was in the middle of a shoot out and I quite literally pissed myself,” you shouted. Your eyes stung from the crying you had done, “Never in my coherent life have I disgraced myself like that.”

“I apologize,” he said, holding his shoulder you saw blood seeping through his fingers, you immediately felt bad for yelling and making it about you when he was in pain.

Jimin stood in just his boxer briefs. “I have nothing against the no-pants but can we go home?”

The only rational thing to do after the incident at the furniture store and warehouse was to seclude yourself in your room away from everyone else. Namjoon often visited and brought you your meals talking to you about things with no real substance. Mostly about his loathing of check ups, it seemed he was hiding in your room from Yoongi.

This happened for a number of days until Hoseok got bored, he wanted to gossip with you and Taehyung came along with paints in hand. His excuse was that you had promised him you two could paint together. 

Forcibly removed from your one-person pity party you sat outside painting and chatting about random topics. 

Hoseok wanted to know if you had any suitors and who they were, he asked what type of guy you liked and you hummed. 

“Someone kind and generous who gives back to others” you gushed about your tall dark and handsome and they laughed.

That night Namjoon knocked on your door and requested you come down for dinner, you agreed much to his surprise. He stammered obviously not expecting you to consent to his plan for dinner, he nodded curtly and walked off down the hall. Tripping in his haste on a small lump in the hall carpet and catching himself on the wall.

Wearing a pretty emerald green halter dress the skirts swished as you walked and your modest heels clicked on the timber. You heard hushed talking and slowed down, being so confined the past few days you were almost starved for conversation. 

“He is having dinner tonight, they will all be in the dining hall which will leave his office free, once I get the information I will get out of here before they find out.” The man had a weird moustache and a mole above his eyebrow. 

You tiptoed past holding your skirts from ruffling and keeping your heels from clicking you headed downstairs. 

Pushing open the doors a multitude of guns were pointed at you, “Miss Y/n I was told you were from a moderately high-class family you should know how to knock.”

You raced over to Namjoon and cupped your hand around your mouth leaning down. “I heard someone talking about breaking into your office, to steal information”

“Jimin” Namjoon beckoned him over, he whispered to Jimin who nodded and went out the back door. 

“Where is he going?” You asked and Namjoon stood up and walked you to the other end of the table and you frowned, “I don’t like this?”

“Sit relax, it is time for us to enjoy dinner.”

You sat for the briefest of moments watching Namjoon cross the room and sit at the opposite end of the table before taking your chair and dragging it across the floor slowly. 

You saw his eyebrow twitch as you did so and stopped beside him. “I would prefer not to shout across the table,” you smiled softly

“You are both a blessing and a curse,” Namjoon said, “dinner is now a minute late”

Dinner was unlike anything you had ever had before, you smiled and ate happily, “this is delicious”

“You should try the steak?” Namjoon smiled, you nodded, cutting some of your chicken and stabbed it with a fork. 

“Alright, I will try some of your steak if you try some of this chicken?” You held it out to him and his eyes were wide “it’s a fair trade”

He leaned forward and ate the small piece off your fork and he cut you a piece of steak and held it out to you. 

You leaned forward and took a bite chewing slowly, your eyes going wide. “That is delicious”

Namjoon leaned over wiping your chin with a napkin his thumb, your eyes were locked in a fierce gaze and he gave you a dimpled smile.

“Jin, try some of my chicken?” Taehyung asked, holding out his fork. 

“No, thank you?” Seokjin said, continuing to eat his steak ignoring the pouting young man. 

“But they shared?” He whined. This made you aware of how intimate your action was, your cheeks flushing dark at your forwardness.

After dinner you were being escorted back to your room. Namjoon was quiet the whole time, not for lack of trying. The amount of times you saw him open and close his mouth, as if he was trying to strike up something to say. 

Standing at your door he paused looking at you searching for something, you laughed opening the door, “Would you like to come in for a drink?” 

He seemed grateful for the excuse to stay in your company, after a drink of two you started talking about your most embarrassing stories. He was actually super clumsy for someone in the mafia and a complete goofball.

“And that was my first kiss, I haven’t really had many kisses after that and the few I can remember were just as bad” Your laughter was cut off by Namjoon who had leaned over on the small couch and pressed his lips to yours. Just as you felt your heart flutter he pulled away.

“It is getting late you should sleep” He stood up and placed down the glass, you walked him to the door and he froze. “Was that okay? I hope I didn’t overstep any boundaries, did I?”

“No it was nice really nice, you can do that-” He pressed his lips to yours once more and smiled whispering good night before walking off down the hall. With a sigh you added “Anytime you like.”

You didn’t hear anything strange from anyone or see anyone but you hoped everything worked out and the man who wanted to steal information ran away. 

You were trying to find Namjoon the next day and travelled downstairs looking in random doors. 

You reached the end of the hallway and found a door you heard screaming and knocked hesitantly on the wood, Yoongi stepped out covered in blood and gun in hand. 

“Oh, y/n now isn’t a good time?” Yoongi said, stepping out and shutting the door. “What are you doing down here?”

“I was looking for Namjoon, is everything okay? What are you doing?” You asked, concerned by the amount of blood on Yoongi’s clothes. 

“We are okay, Seokjin and I are just interrogating the mole, hey good spotting by the way no one knew they had snuck in,” your stomach dropped, this blood was from that man and it was all because of you. 

“Namjoon is in his office on the third floor from the ground west wing double doors on the left-right at the end of the corridor.”

You nodded, froze in place and Yoongi sighed “I have to go back in,” he went to pat your shoulder but saw his stained gloves and sighed ripping them off. 

He turned punching in numbers into the code lock. 7276. He slipped inside and you heard screaming, which was silenced immediately as the door sealed shut, you quickly ran feeling sick.

Racing up the stairs and bumping into Jungkook and almost falling, thankfully  he caught you, “hey hey, slow down what’s wrong?”

You were wide-eyed and scared and he frowned. “Did you go downstairs?”

You nodded and he led you down the hall, “you are scared and helpless, but the way to feel better is to get stronger. You won’t feel as scared if you're not so helpless.” Jungkook opened the doors to the gym. 

“Let me teach you how to fight,” Jungkook began teaching the basics and at another point, Jimin entered the two gave you pointers, their fighting styles. Jungkook was all power and strength and Jimin’s was survival. 

“Look all you got to know is how to break free so you can run away,” Jimin instructed. “Even someone like Yoongi can break out of Jungkook's grasp.” 

“That was one time and he refused to give me a rematch,” Jungkook wined. 

You were learning so much, and it was in a sense a little empowering. The two guys were good at what they did and the more you learnt the more you wanted to learn. 

Learning to fight gave you something to take your mind off what you had seen at least for the first two weeks but when you heard them relay information at breakfast you felt sick once more. 

“He refuses to speak,” Seokjin said 

“He will eventually,” Namjoon didn’t bat an eyelash. Two weeks of torture because you outed him. 

This was all your fault. He was suffering because of you. You left the dining hall unable to stomach the thought of food. 

Heading down the stairs you opened the door with the code 7276, you almost vomited, he sat there unrestrained and unconscious. His fingernails were removed and his face broken beyond repair. 

“Hello, sir are you alive?” You asked, he groaned struggling to move his head, coughing up some blood at the effort it took to move. 

“Who are you?”

“I am no one sir,” you breathed, “I can help you.”

He lunged hands gripping your throat and you fell back under the weight of him, you were struggling against him in panic. “Die you bitch, I know who you are, you're that monster's whore. He has never tried to protect anyone in his life and yet his soft spot is you. They are coming to kill you all.”

You struggled less hearing Jimin’s words in your head, “don’t panic” his voice would smooth as he held you in this position. “You want to panic but relax and fight back”

You did what he said, “your legs are your strongest so kick them in the chest” Jungkook would coach from the side, following their instructions you kicked the man off and ducked out the door pulling it closed. 

You were gasping and you ran up the stairs and into the dining hall gasping. Namjoon flew to his seat and scooped you up, sitting you on the side of the table. 

“Yoongi.” He commanded, he gently brushed his fingers over your neck, he looked upset, angry and sad all at once. The emotions were so strong it shocked you. Grabbing his gun, you pressed it into Namjoon's hands. 

“Kill him,” You wheezed, “slowly.”

“You went back down there didn’t you?” Jungkook sighed and before Yoongi could stop him Namjoon cocked the gun and stormed off. Seokjin followed after him and they all watched you trying to help. 

“Your throat will sting for a few days try not to talk it will help it heal,” Yoongi sighed 

“You just don’t want to hear me talk,” you joked, wincing at the pain. “Got it, no talking.”

Namjoon threw the man into the dining hall and dragged him by his hair across the floor, “the lady has requested you die and slowly.” 

Namjoon shot him six times in both legs, one in each foot, calf and thigh, the blood was pooling everywhere. You felt queasy, you wanted this but you weren’t sure you could stomach it. 

“If you can make it back to your people with these wounds I will let you go?” Namjoon put his gun away and the man tried to crawl away, losing strength as he streaked blood across the ground. 

The man was making horrible noises and you didn’t like it, covering your ears and Yoongi warned Namjoon who shot the mole in the back of the head as he reached for the door handle. 

Again the only thing you deemed appropriate after witnessing that sort of horrific event was to seclude yourself in your room. Yoongi visited bringing you soups to soothe your sore throat and his persistence and gentle nature was the only thing that got you to drink some of it.

You laid there alone when it started to rain. You loved the rain, but what surprised you was your new fear of the thunder rumbling in the distance sinister as if it was coming after you. 

You had never been afraid of storms you used to stand out on the patio undercover with your father and watch the lights flash and feel the electricity in the air. But now each flash had shadows in your window and was accompanied by gunshots that shook the ground.

You were a whimpering mess and you wanted to get out, you ran from your room and raced down the stairs and out the front door. You were in the rain running down the long estate driveway and you expected to be followed by Namjoons henchmen and dragged back and punished for what you didn’t expect was for Namjoon to be running after you. 

He grabbed you and pulled you to his chest hugging you gently and he started to sing in your ear, his voice was low and soothing. You found yourself easing into his chest and your erratic sobbing calmed some.

Forever Rain, Forever Rain, Forever Rain, Forever Rain, Forever Rain,

He repeated this phrase slowly singing into your ear holding you desperately and before you knew it, you passed out in his arms.

Namjoon was sweet, you woke up beside him, you were dressed in a button-up and nothing more and he was in his trousers that looked damp, he was sleeping above the blankets holding your hand as if he hadn’t intended to fall asleep beside you but to watch over you.

You brushed his hair off of his face and covered him with a blanket before heading to his closet, taking out some sweatpants and a plain white shirt. He stirred awake when you emerged from the walk-in closet. 

“Good morning,” You said softly

“You haven’t obtained any of my weapons while I was sleeping have you?” He asked, making you laugh behind your hand.

“No, someone hasn’t taught me how to use a gun properly, something about a magazine?” you said, trying to play coy. Namjoon laughed getting out of bed and taking your hand, dragging you into the closet and he began explaining all about guns and you listened he had all these amazing facts from when they were made to how they were made and how they fired and how far.

He demonstrated how to put ammunition into the magazine and the magazine into the gun. He taught you how to take the safety on and off and how to hold the gun being new so as not to accidentally shoot anyone. 

He led you to the balcony and smiled telling you to hold the gun and he corrected your stance and hold and he told you to aim at a tree and you did. 

“Now shoot?” He smiled encouragingly. You turned to him shocked, starting to protest that you weren’t ready. 

“You are just scared I promise nothing will happen?” He smiled talking you through it all again. 

He didn’t rush you and he didn’t laugh, he spoke the whole time about what you would like for breakfast. You fired a shot and bumped into Namjoon, he chuckled, “that was a good start. Did you close your eyes? Try again.”

It took a few goes and the boys busting in the room before you were comfortable with the weapon. Each had pointers and you felt empowered once more. 

“I can make you a pretty handgun,” Taehyung smiled and the group went to breakfast. 

“We have a meeting today, so dress pretty, it’s a good meeting, nothing scary, I think you will like it.” Namjoon smiled, making you nod and run off to get dressed. 

“Something Christmassy!” Taehyung shouted. 

This wasn’t what you expected when you heard mafia, usually you would think things like guns and drugs and women and violence and sure some of those things were true. 

But giving Christmas presents to an orphanage full of children wasn’t what you had in mind. You took a present and handed it out, “are you mister Kim’s wife now?”

You giggled at the children’s naive question and began thinking about what it would be like if you really were Namjoon’s wife. 

“Well, he hasn’t asked me so, no,” you laughed with the children some of the teens heard and began teasing Namjoon. 

“Why haven’t you asked her yet she is so pretty?” They said, “I would ask her.”

“Namjoon is shy, underneath the suit he is just a boy with dimples” Jimin teased earning a wad of wrapping paper at his head from the man in question. You had stepped outside into the snow watching it fall around you, Namjoon was eyeing you through the small glass window.

Excusing himself Namjoon left the children and headed out into the snowy garden, he shrugged off his jacket as he approached and slipped it over your shoulders. Clearing his throat “you shouldn’t be out here, you might catch a cold”

“Not with you here” You elbowed him playfully, he chuckled allowing you to lean against him, he didn’t tell you he was cold but dutifully stood there and kept you company.

“Thank you so much,” The woman said, as you all stepped out the front door, the boys all headed to the car and you were left beside Namjoon who had left his arm around your waist leading you to the car. “For the presents and the donation, the children and I truly appreciate it.”

“Y/n?” Namjoon said as you walked into the dining room to find it empty, the food was set and there were candles. “I wanted to speak with you privately.”

“Okay, what did you want to talk about?” You asked curiously, what was so important that his men whom he confided everything in were not present.

“Since I met you, I have broken so many of my rules, I have been late, I have forgotten what I have wanted to say, I have spoken without purpose, I have even broken the rule to keep speeches short and sweet.” He laughed rubbing the back of the neck. “I have enjoyed your company greatly and you have made me a better man because of it. Ever since I met you, I was enraptured by your brains and beauty. You are fiery and sassy and kind and real.”

“Thank you, I haven’t done that much though.” You weren’t being modest, you hadn’t done anything special to warrant his compliments.

“I wanted to ask if you would do me the greatest honour of marrying me?” He said, “I will keep you safe, you will never go hungry or cold, I will cherish you with every fibre of my being.”

“Yes,” You said in shock, you liked him of course, you had for a while now but the fact that he could get anyone and he chose you. That was what shocked you, you weren’t on the same status level. He was very high class and you were scrapping the lower end of high class.

The celebration was to be held at the grand hotel, the hall was booked and looking spectacular you were announcing your engagement. It was a real lavish affair and you were in the most expensive gown you had ever seen, feeling like a million dollars and wearing a million and a half.

It was all real, the shoes, jewelry, hotel, engagement and you couldn’t believe it. “Is this a dream?” the stylist shook her head.

You were trying to wonder where it had all come together; it was little gestures and actions. When the two of you met and he was charming and poise when dancing with you. The more you got to know him he was meticulous and sassy and strict, he didn’t miss a chance to correct and reprimand you. 

Somewhere along your journey he started to enjoy your company, he became more clumsy, and open to new ideas. He took a chance and started approaching you with his feelings and what blossomed between you was love.

“My lady, if you are ready follow us to take some photos with your fiance on the rooftop.” You were shaken out of your daydream and guided to the elevator headed for the rooftop, the two men were talking into headsets, “Everything is secure” The man said straight-faced, and the other man helped you hold the small train of your dress.

When you stepped out the men guided you across the rooftop and told you to sit in the chair while the cameraman finished setting up. You sat drinking, you only got a short way through it before you fell asleep.

Waking it was dark, you were strapped to the chair and there was something heavy and bulky on your chest. Eyes adjusting to see the glowing numbers on your chest. You started to cry, something was wrong and almost an hour went by before, you heard someone shouting your name.

“Y/N!” it was Jimin.

“Jimin!” You shouted and he raced over to the door but you heard the clanking of chains. You were locked in. 

“Wait here, I will get the others and something to get you out.” He was gone before you could tell him.

You heard more voices and Namjoon came over, you had ten minutes written on the digital clock on your chest, the numbers flickering down consistently. “Y/N?” Namjoon said, “Don’t worry, we will get you out?”

“Namjoon,” You cried from the seat, sobs breaking through your words, “There is a bomb.”

“Where is the bomb?” Namjoon said 

“It’s here,” Hot tears falling from your eyes stinging, “It’s on me, there is only nine minutes left.”

He swore, “Break this door down now, find another way in?”

They all began struggling and trying their best, but you knew it was useless. Namjoon, go, take everyone and go, there isn’t enough time?”

“No!” Namjoon growled smashing his fists on the door and throwing his shoulder into it, “I will get you out of it.”

“Namjoon, send the boys away don’t get them hurt because of me?” You whispered, “Go!”

“Leave us,” Namjoon said, his voice defeated.

“We won’t leave without you both?” Jungkook said, the timer said three minutes and you wanted to scream at them to go but the sobs took everything out of you.

“A man will follow orders to the letter Jungkook.” Namjoon said, sending the younger man away, “Get out of here.”

“Yeah rule number twenty-two, but what about number thirty-three take a challenge or thirty-nine finish what you start.”

“Jungkook, leave now before I shoot you, your orders are to get everyone out of the building, we will be down soon.”

Jungkook hesitated before running off. You called out to Namjoon begging him to leave but he refused continuing to try to break down the door blinking away the blur in your eyes from the tears you saw the time had only a minute left.

“Namjoon, there is only a minute left, please leave.” You pleaded and you could hear him on the other side of the door. 

“I am not leaving you,” He sniffed, voice watery and shaking with the sounds of his sobs. He broke the number one rule.

[Part 2]

If you enjoyed it don’t forget to Like | Reblog so others can enjoy it too.

[hanaasbananas]

100 Ways to say I Love You Chapter 36

What do you need me to do? (Adrinette)

Takes place after the events of Chapter 30

AO3

“Guys, I feel so bad, ” Lila wrung her hands together, an expression of fake contrition on her face as she looked over her shoulder in the direction of the art room. “I’m gonna go apologise to Marinette again and see if I can help her portfolio.”

Adrien’s eyes narrowed when he saw Lila grab her coffee cup and he rose as well, shooting her a smile. “I’ll come with you,” he said brightly. “I wanted to talk to her anyway.”

Marinette had spent all her free time between classes this last week in the art room, working to redo her ruined portfolio. He’d barely seen her otherwise-electing to skip his visits as Chat so as not to unnecessarily distract her from the project.

But it had been a week now since Lila had destroyed much of Marinette’s work, and it had become clear to him that she wouldn’t ask for help. Not unless it was offered completely unprompted.

“Oh..great!” Lila exclaimed, her eyes flashing dangerously as she turned on her heel, not waiting for him to catch up.

Hurrying forward, Adrien fell into step beside her. “You gonna pull the same trick twice?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know exactly what I mean, Lila.” Adrien’s voice hardened “and you’re gonna stop it. Right now.”

Lila scoffed “why would I do that? You really think you can prove anything? You can’t.”

“I’m my fathers son,” Adrien said “that means I’ve picked up a few things over the years. I won’t tell you again, Lila. You’re going to leave Marinette alone if you know what’s good for you.”

“Fine.” Lila must have finally seen something in his expression, because she scowled, throwing her coffee cup in a nearby bin and stalking in the other direction. “It was getting boring anyway.”

Adrien watched her go, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, and it wasn’t until Lila wasn't visible anymore that he turned and continued on his way to the art room.

“Hey, Marinette!”

Marinette jumped at Adrien’s voice, her pencil skittering across the page, stopping-to his relief-just shy of the sketch she had begun.

“A-Adrien!” she exclaimed, staring at him with wide eyes. “Know didn’t you-” Marinette shook her head “I didn’t know you did art.”

“I don’t.” he laughed, sliding into the seat beside her, “but I heard about what happened with your portfolio, and I thought I’d see if I could help you out with anything?”

Marinette stared uncomprehendingly at him for a long moment before she blinked, shaking her head. “Th-that’s very sweet of you to offer but I don’t need…”

Adrien interrupted her “Marinette,” he placed his hand over hers, his voice firm. “I want to help. Now what do you need me to do?”

She didn’t seem to hear him, her eyes fixated on where his hand covered hers, her cheeks flushed and Adrien pulled away, scratching behind his ear awkwardly.

“I-” Marinette seemed to consider something, before nodding finally, turning to flip through her folder. “Okay, you could uh…” her eyes alighted on a piece of paper and she pulled it out with a triumphant “aha!” flipping it around to show him.

“You could help me write out these artist studies? I have the notes here-they didn’t get ruined and you don’t need to write a lot-” she showed him another artist study as an example. “These are the sort of layouts I’ve been doing, so if you could do it like this?” Marinette bit her lip, watching carefully as he studied the page.

Several images of the artists' works were pasted onto the paper, surrounded by paragraphs of writing detailing the artists life and style of art. Adrien hummed “yeah this seems simple enough.”

They worked together in companionable silence until the bell rang for their next lesson, and Adrien helped Marinette gather her things. Their fingers brushed as he handed her her pencil case, and he couldn’t help but laugh at the blush that stained her cheeks once more. “Hey, you have a free period after this one right?” at her nod, he continued “I have one too! I’ll see you then and I can finish these studies for you, yeah?”

Adrien didn’t wait for a response, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He paused when he felt a hand on his arm, looking back at Marinette who met his gaze earnestly. “Thank you, Adrien.”

Putting his hand on hers, Adrien grinned. “It was my pleasure.”

[winetae]

⇾ what you did last summer (m).

⇁ female reader x yoongi

⇁ smut, trophy wife!au

⇁ slowburn, dom!yoongi, age difference, consensual non-monogamy, power imbalance, semi-public sex, objectification, face-fucking, derogatory language and possessive behavior during sex, creampie, cum marking, unsafe sex, everyone is kind of slutty, not as wildt as warnings may imply 

⇁ unnecessarily long for a pwp. 33.8k. phew.

. . .

Yoongi was fine with a lot of things—you maxing out his credit cards to buy ridiculously expensive items of clothing that you never wore more than once, you taking out his newest ride for a spin without permission, you spending an extra thirty minutes on your hair and makeup when he was running late for a dinner function. 

What he was not okay with, however, was you sharing your pussy with barely-out-of-college boys who were incapable of going five seconds without creaming their pants.

No, that was where he drew the line.

↳ alternatively titled; How to Get Dick - an autobiography written by (you) 

author’s note | while this fic does contain a semblance of plot, the focus is more on characterization which i understand can make for a boring read. also note that i have done (0) research and despite having owned a pool, still to this day do not know how to clean one. 

written for 1 of my closest friends @tayegi as the most belated bday gift to have ever been gifted. ily :( ty for having passionate naruto-related discussions w/ me at 6am. u r the real deal ! 

(!) pls read the warnings. uncomfortable subject matter if delved in too deeply. tbh i didn’t know how to tag. also yoongi is older in this fic - an age gap is there and implied although none of the characters’ ages are specified. 

song inspo: needy - ariana grande. that’s all! enjoy! hopefully! /cries

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.

{THURSDAY. 10:23 am.}

.

“Hi, um, I’m Jungkook.”

The man shifted his weight from foot to foot, feeling all sorts of self-conscious.

In stark contrast to his casual appearance, you looked neatly put together, not a strand of hair out of place. His well worn jeans and simple white tee looked terribly shabby in comparison to the tailored cream colored dress that hugged your figure. Jungkook didn’t need to check the original price tag or the label stitched onto the fabric to know that your outfit was Expensive (with a capital E for emphasis).

Doubt made his stomach turn. Had there been a dress code stated somewhere in the job description? Given Jungkook’s disposition, it didn’t seem very likely that he had overlooked such a crucial detail. He was the type to obsess over the smallest details, always double-checking everything before giving the go ahead.

Yet despite all of the precautions he was certain he had taken, Jungkook was unable to shake off the feeling of being disgustingly underdressed.

Worry bubbled in the pit of his stomach. His palms began to sweat as his gaze flitted back and forth between the pale pink freshwater pearls hanging off your neck and the clothes he had haphazardly thrown on this morning.

Well at least they were ironed, he mused. It was but a small consolation—the denim was faded from one wash too many and the frayed holes near his kneecaps made his jeans look tattered. Had he known the neighborhood would be this posh, he would have chosen his outfit with greater care. Right now he regretted not putting in more effort, if only to blend in with his surroundings. As he was now, he looked distinctly out of place. Almost as ridiculous as Samsung’s CEO taking a leisurely stroll through the downtown dollar store.

Jungkook half-expected you to take one glance at him, upturn your nose and slam the polished oak door in his face. In his panicked state, a number of embarrassing scenarios reeled through his mind, each one filling him with nauseating dread.

It was your expectant expression that snapped him out of his daze. He slowly blinked back into focus, realizing he had paused for a few seconds too long, and he cleared his throat.

A smile stretched across his face, not quite of the genuine kind. He squared his shoulders for good measure, doing his best to conceal the stress shaking up his insides.

“My name is Jeon Jungkook. I spoke to Mr. Min on the phone yesterday. I was expected to arrive at ten thirty?” His voice rose a little at the end, uncertain. It hadn’t been meant to be phrased as a question but his nerves made his voice quiver.

“Ah, yes, of course. And right on time, too.” Jungkook had made sure of it; he despised running late. “Nice to meet you, I’m ______,” you greeted, voice as smooth as velvet.

He tried not to openly stare because wow. Your blinding smile looked straight out of a Colgate advertisement, a tad too white to be completely natural.

Once again, you had him feeling self-conscious and all too aware of his own, less than perfect appearance. Whether it was the anxiety or the scorching heat beating down his back—or an unpleasant mix of both—a film of perspiration formed over his skin, leaving him sticky and uncomfortable.

Jungkook discreetly wiped off his palms against his denim clad thighs before taking your outstretched hand in his.

Despite your small size, your grip was surprisingly firm. If you noticed how abnormally clammy his hand was, you refrained from commentary. Instead, you held the door open a bit wider and ushered him inside the imposing abode.

“You can follow me. I’ll show you around to the back.”

He gave a little jerky nod and let you take the lead. For a moment, all he could hear was the nervous beat of his heart and the steady click-clack of your heels against the immaculate white floor tiles.

Jungkook blushed, quickly turning his head the moment he caught himself staring at your swaying hips. He wet his lips, his eyes darting around for any kind of distraction.

Inwardly, he scolded himself as he pinched the bit of flesh between his thumb and index finger.

Workplace crushes were never a good idea. Wasn’t it, like, written down in the code of conduct or something? It didn’t even have to be a rule. It was just common sense.

And Jungkook had no plans to fuck this job up. Summer jobs that paid this kind of money were scarce and hard to find. For someone like him who needed the money desperately, this job was a godsend, one that he would never dare pass up.

From the moment he had set foot onto Mr. Min’s property, Jungkook had realized that this wouldn’t be anything like his other part-time jobs that had consisted of repainting his neighbor’s fence and watering Mrs. Anderson’s flowers whenever she left town to visit her son. But this? This wouldn’t be just another pool cleaning job, that was for sure.

For one, the mansion, like every house in the vicinity, reeked of money. In his eyes, they all seemed to be competing against each other, with ridiculous, Disneyland-esque shaped hedges and wide, winding driveways capable of fitting several imported cars at a time. On the drive over, Jungkook had even spotted a marble fountain planted in the middle of someone’s front yard, clear water spouting out of a cupid’s arrow. He half expected peacocks and other exotic animals to parade across their lawns like some kind of zoo.

He could only assume that most of these ostentatious properties were owned by business tycoons or AAA-list celebrities. He cast a glance around as he tried to guess which of the two categories his employer belonged to.

To his dismay, there was nothing that particularly stood out to him. In all honesty it was…a little underwhelming. Jungkook had been expecting something jaw dropping in its obnoxiousness but he could spot no cupid fountains or gigantic aquariums built in the wall or pet tigers in gilded cages.

Mr. Min, whoever he was, seemed to favor subtlety. There were no life-sized cutouts of his person, no trophy collection showing off his achievements. The walls were painted an off-white, only decorated by the occasional painting. There were no family portraits, no personal belongings indicating that a person actually lived and breathed in this house. If he hadn’t known beforehand, Jungkook would have believed himself to be in some fancy hotel, not a home.

But the lack of personal ornaments did nothing to quell Jungkook’s growing curiosity. Questions whizzed through his brain. Was his employer a successful plastic surgeon? The living space somewhat reminded him of his dentist’s waiting room. Very clinical and clean. Then again, there was really no telling who he was working for. Maybe they were one of those Wolf of Wall Street stock brokers that owned dozens of unused vacation homes. Or, perhaps, Mr. Min happened to be one of those top-of-the-food-chain entertainment producers… His name did sound awfully familiar for some reason he couldn’t—

Jungkook hadn’t even realized his footsteps had slowed down, too caught up in his thoughts.

“You enjoy art?” The sound of your voice roused him from his ruminations. He jumped, head snapping in your direction so fast his neck throbbed.

Your head was tilted in what seemed to be—interest? The angle drew attention to the slope of your neck and for a few short seconds, Jungkook freaked out, wondering if it was normal to find the delicate curve of someone’s neck attractive. Was that too weird? Luckily he hadn’t been outright staring but he could still feel the tips of his ears heat up in embarrassment.

A beat passed as he finally registered your question. Did he like—? Oh. Somewhat belatedly, he realized that you had been talking about the work of art hung up on the far right wall. He must have been staring at it earlier without noticing. Was it a painting? A sculpture? He scratched his neck, not really knowing how to identify it. He couldn’t tell what it was supposed to represent, either, no matter how long he examined it.

“Not particularly... I mean,” he quickly backtracked, suddenly worried this was some kind of test. “I like it, I just don’t know much about it.”

It was easier to settle for honesty. Lying had never been his strongest suit. Besides, as much as he’d like to impress you, he had no actual knowledge to show off. And he’d rather be ignorant than a liar. Knowledge—well, he could always catch up on and learn what he didn’t know. Trust, however, was hard to earn back when lost.

“I find certain pieces nice to look at but my appreciation for art is rather superficial.”

Although you covered it well, he could tell you were slightly put off by his answer, almost as if you had been expecting something else. Jungkook worried his bottom lip, nervous he had said the wrong thing.

“I see...” Your eyes slid over to the artwork. “Beauty is subjective, isn’t it? Art is supposed to adhere to those rules, too. Some people will find this pretty, some won’t. And yet... It’s not that simple, either. Who assigns value to a piece? The artist or the consumer? I wonder about that sometimes.”

Jungkook nodded, unsure what else to say. You didn’t seem to mind the lack of commentary, continuing on, “I think about it a lot, actually. How do you define someone’s worth?”

Your expression shifted into something indecipherable, gaze slightly glassy, mind elsewhere. Remembering yourself, you covered it up with a polite smile.

“That there is a Rudolf Stingel piece, worth just a little over 5 million. It’s one of my favorites.”

He covered his shock with a loud cough that sounded more like a choke.

“Five million?” Disbelief colored his tone. Five million. Holy shit. “I-Is Mr. Min an art collector?”

Bitterly, Jungkook thought about how he could spend the rest of his life cleaning pools and never make enough to buy a scrap of metal signed Stingel. Not that he wanted to own one. It was just... The idea of being rich enough to spend millions on junk was—

He swallowed, forcing the feeling down. He tried very hard not to think about how one piece of metal could pay for the entirety of his tuition and then some. If he did, he’d likely spiral into depression. Being a broke college student sucked.

“You could say that...”

You shrugged, half smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It wasn’t like the blinding, 100-watt beam you had flashed his way the moment the front door had swung open. This version was less overwhelming, but certainly no less potent. The slow curl of your lips made it easier to admire the defined features of your face. Jungkook swallowed.

Beauty was subjective? Maybe so. Jungkook had no taste for the two-dimensional. He wouldn’t be able to discern a Monet from a Picasso if asked. But something about you had him inclined to change his mind. 

Jungkook had seen beautiful women parade before him—but none like you. Your beauty was eerie—pretty in an almost unnatural way. You looked like a painting brought to life. There was something soft and sharp about your traits, like the definition of a marble statue and the roundness of a paintbrush stroking a canvas all in one. 

“—He does buy a lot of it.”

“I see...” If Mr. Min had objects worth 5 million casually displayed in plain sight, he had to be the type of individual Jungkook would never cross paths with in his everyday life. They belonged to two different worlds, their orbits never meant to cross paths.

“Come on.” You smiled kindly, yanking him out of his stupor. “I still have to show you the pool.”

Dutifully, he followed after you, his steps measured and careful. Now was not the time to go breaking million dollar vases from the Qing dynasty or whatever other valuable pieces Mr. Min had acquired over the years. He sure as hell didn’t have five million in his bank account around to spend on damages. The mere possibility of getting fired on the first day, 5 million in debt, made his skin crawl unpleasantly. He shuddered.

“It’s a bit cold in here,” you apologized once you noticed him rubbing his arms. Goosebumps had raised on his skin. “Should I turn the AC off?”

“I’m fine! Really. Please don’t worry. I’ll be working outside, anyway. Unless… Is it, uh, an indoor pool?” He hadn’t considered that a possibility until now. Maybe there were even multiple pools to clean.

“No, no, the pool’s outside.” You continued your explanation as you led him through the conservatory. The glass ceiling allowed for natural sunlight to filter through, enhancing the aesthetic appeal of the room. Out of all the rooms he had walked through so far, this one seemed like the most inviting.  “You can see it from here. See? Just through here. There’s no justifiable need for an indoor pool since the one we have is heated.”

Jungkook picked up on the strange use of pronoun—we—but didn’t question it. His thoughts were all jumbled up, anxiety making him unable to focus on one topic for too long. “Although, I suppose you could say there isn’t much need for this one, either. It rarely gets used… Honestly, I can’t remember the last time Yoongi went for a swim. It’s almost a waste.”

It took him several seconds for him to realize you were referring to Mr. Min. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered how long you had worked under Mr. Min to be able to address him by his first name. Or maybe his boss was lax about these kind of things? Jungkook somehow doubted it. The man he had on the phone last night hadn’t given off that impression at all.

“Is Mr. Min not home often?” he asked tentatively, hoping his interest wasn’t blatant. Jungkook wasn’t sure if his questions were appropriate or not but thankfully you didn’t seem to mind his curiosity. “Will I meet him today?”

“He should be stopping by later for lunch...” Your voice trailed off before you remembered his first question. “But, no. He spends most of his time locked up in his office, so I doubt you’ll see him very often.”

You said this as you turned your face away. Eyes downcast, you failed to notice when Jungkook caught your grimace from the glass door’s reflection. Jungkook diverted his gaze, somehow feeling like he had seen something he shouldn’t have.

“Ah, here we are.” You slid the glass door open and a gust of warm air blew in his face.

Jungkook stepped out onto the deck, one of his hands raised to block his view from the sun. The garden was in full bloom, a colorful arrangement of hydrangeas, astilbe and daylilies lining the stone pathway that wound down to the gazebo and the pool. A thick, sweet scent hung heavy in the air, so strong it made his nose twitch.

He followed you down the patio, watching in fascination as you walked atop of uneven stone steps with expertise despite the thinness and tallness of your heels.

“I’ll have to get another key double made for the shed, I forgot to get another one done. We keep all the cleaning equipment in here. Next time you come, you can come straight back here after someone’s buzzed you in.”

Jungkook nodded as you showed him where to check the water circulation.

“Do you have any questions? Hm, I think I covered everything. Although I’m sure there’ll be things I’ll need to tell you along the way because I tend to be forgetful.”

It occurred to him that he didn’t know what kind of job you occupied. The question balanced on the tip of his tongue. Would it be considered rude to ask? He swallowed it back down after failing to muster the courage to ask.

“Hm?” You made an inquisitive sound, head tilting slightly. “What is it? You can ask me anything.”

“So, uh, have you worked here long? Do you like it here?”

“Worked here…? Oh. Oh!” Your look of surprise morphed into one of amusement. The corners of your mouth pressed down together in an effort to hold back a laugh.

Jungkook grew uneasy. Somehow, without needing an explanation, he knew he had said the wrong thing.

“I don’t work here. Well. I suppose being a housewife is an occupation in itself, so I guess… Almost a year?” You fiddled with the ring on your index finger, the encrusted diamonds sparkling as the facets reflected the sunlight. “It’s our anniversary on the twentieth. So, yeah, almost a year.”

Jungkook stared at it without comprehending. It was like every cog in his brain had screeched to an abrupt halt.

“Housewife…?” Jungkook’s mouth fell open as he put two and two together. His brain had begun to catch up but it was still buffering like some early 2000 computer that was unable to process large amounts of information without crashing. “You’re—but you’re so young—? Not that that’s a reason for—I thought, I mean, I shouldn’t have—”

Stop talking. Stop. Talking.

“Sorry. For, you know. Assuming. It was wrong of me. Um.” He knew he should stop talking. He knew it and yet— “H-happy anniversary?”

His ears burned with mortification. If the ground could split open and swallow him whole, now would be a fantastic time for it to do so. He had always had shit brain-to-mouth filter but this was… Fuck. He wanted to bang his head against a wall but refrained from doing so, not ready to risk losing more brain cells.

You burst out into laughter, your shoulders shaking from the force of it.

“The look on your face,” you snickered, finally pulling yourself together. “I don’t usually get that kind of reaction. People are usually a lot less... Well. It doesn’t really matter what they’re like. They don’t matter.”

Jungkook hastily apologized again, fearing he had vexed you.

God, you probably thought he was the world’s biggest dumbass. He sure felt like one.

In his defense, your marital status hadn’t been a painfully obvious fact. Jungkook hadn’t even considered the possibility that Mr. Min was a married man. The house he had walked through earlier had lacked convivial warmth, giving the impression of vacancy. There were no wedding pictures framed on the mantle or any other piece of evidence of a lover.

Perhaps it was the age that had further thrown him off—you couldn’t be that much older than him. Maybe two years older? Five, at the most? The deep voice he had heard over the phone last night had given off the impression that Mr. Min was eons older. In Jungkook’s mind, he pictured a man with a balding head, fine lines near his eyes. Maybe Jungkook had been completely off from the start. But then again, Mr. Min couldn’t possibly be that young, either.

He did some quick mental math, trying to calculate and estimate how young Mr. Min could be. Sure, he had seen movies depicting extremely young and successful CEO’s but the real world worked differently. Mr. Min had to be in his thirties…at the earliest.

“Don’t worry about it.” You waved his concerns away with a flick of your wrist. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it. Trust me…I’m really good at knowing when someone’s being intentionally insulting.”

The last part was said carelessly, like the words hadn’t actually meant to be voiced aloud. His brows scrunched up in confusion; try as he might, he didn’t understand what you meant.

“I’m really sorry,” he squeaked out, his ears still uncomfortably hot. He wiped his brow with the back of hand. 

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not something that bothers me.”

Jungkook only allowed himself to relax when he caught sight of the easygoing smile gracing your lips. “Well then, I think I covered about everything. If you don’t have anything else you need explained, I’ll let you at it. Why don’t I head on inside and get you some refreshments? It’s so hot out today—I wouldn’t want you to get a heatstroke.”

“That’ll be great.” Jungkook nodded in thanks. Now that you mentioned it, his mouth felt unbearably parched. He made a mental note to bring a water bottle for next time.

“Want anything in particular? I think we have just about everything stocked up in the fridge. Juice, sparkling water, cola...?”

“Water sounds perfect, thank you.”

Jungkook tried not to stare when you turned on your heels and walked away. He really did. Except it was hard not to notice how well the dress you wore flattered your figure, emphasizing the curves of your body in all the right places.

It was a futile battle; his eyes refused to cooperate with his internal demands. Honest to God, he tried really hard not to look but your legs looked fa—

He shook his head as if the action would somehow help him clear his thoughts. Get a fucking grip! his inner voice of reason yelled at him.

You were married.

To his boss.

He let that sink in. Or tried to. Jungkook didn’t need to have an IQ of 155 to know that having the hots for the woman married to his boss would ultimately result in disaster. Nothing good would ever come out of it. Why would you even consider looking at other men? Only a dumbass would think he stood a chance. Your husband probably provided everything you needed and more.

But what should have been sufficient incentive to put an end to his cru—whatever the hell it was—wasn’t doing jack shit. The only resounding thought in his mind right then was a constant loop of I’m so fuuucked. Because if there was one thing Jungkook was good at, it was spotting a losing battle when he saw one. But one thing he was bad at? Abandoning a sinking ship.

.

Back in the kitchen, you were feeling similarly distressed.

The corners of your mouth downturned into a frown as your eyes raked over the familiar penmanship.

Don’t wait up for me tonight.

You peeled the post-it note off the fridge, checking the back of the yellow paper to make sure you hadn’t overlooked any words he might have tacked on as an afterthought. Foolishly, your heart hoped to find any semblance of an apology—anything that would prove that somewhere behind his impassive mask he still loved you.

It was, unsurprisingly, blank.

Admittedly, your husband was a man of few words. He had never been known for flowery speeches, preferring to keep it curt and to the point. Efficiency, he called it.

Realistically, you should have known Yoongi wouldn’t have been able to spend the day with you. More often than not last minute work emergencies called him into office, interrupting whatever plans you had made for that day. This wasn’t outside the norm. Yoongi’s work came first and foremost. You had never deluded yourself into thinking otherwise and had never resented him for it, either.

Still...you remembered a time when he had put in more effort than a half-assed, scribbled note. Before he had tied the knot, Yoongi had been more attentive and thoughtful. There wasn’t a day that you didn’t wake up to the smell of fresh flowers, hand-picked and arranged in a crystal vase by your bedside. He never failed to call during the day between board meetings to check up on you and always made sure to make up for his absences one way or another.

Being with Yoongi came with its set of disclaimers and downsides, but like any worthwhile relationship, you had been willing to overlook these hardships. It wasn’t difficult to, not when Yoongi always showered you with prettily wrapped up gifts and hot mouthed kisses, erasing any doubts that sprouted within you. 

Gradually, all that had changed. There were no more flowers, no more impromptu calls, no more candlelit dinners.

Whatever love that had previously existed was nowhere to be found. The notes he left around the house had become sparse and dismissive. You looked back down at his message and held back a scoff. The paper creased between your fingers and you had half a mind to ball it up and throw it away, along with the frustration simmering under the surface of your skin.

It was impossible to pinpoint the exact moment change had happened but somewhere down the line, the affection that used to gleam in his eyes had melted away, leaving behind a stony face devoid of warmth. You could imagine his face as he had written the note, features smoothed over into the same inscrutable look he reserved for his business clients.

“Guess it’s just going to be me and Euna today.” You glanced at your watch, the steel heavy around your delicate wrist, and desperately attempted to refocus your attention.

Your stomach twisted unpleasantly but you forced the nauseating feeling down with a forced out sigh. 

Everything was fine. Besides, life went on and it wouldn’t wait for you to get your feelings under wraps.

You had been looking forward to having brunch with your sister and husband, but. Things happened. It was nothing to be upset about. You’d get over it after stuffing your face with a croissant or two.

When you came back with refreshments, Jungkook could tell something was wrong. He could see it by the hunch in your shoulders, the straight line of your mouth.

“Change of plans.” You set the sterling silver tray down with a thunk. The glass pitcher’s content sloshed around, threatening to spill over. He noticed there were bits of cut up—cucumbers?—floating around in the water. Weird. He wondered if it was considered rude to pick them out.

When he looked back at you, all of his inner ramblings ceased. Even though he didn’t know you well—or at all, really—worry still niggled at his heart. He wasn’t sure what exactly had happened in the last ten minutes, but the look on your face was cause for concern. He just...didn’t know if it was his place to ask.

You took a glance at your wristwatch unaware of his silent predicament.

“You’ll get to meet Yoongi some other time, hopefully. I thought I might get to introduce the two of you today when he stopped by for lunch, but it’s work related business and you know how that is.”

Jungkook nodded, knowing better than to speak. You smiled and shrugged, but he could detect an undercurrent of frustration. The smile looked different than the one you had on when you had doubled over in laughter—this one was a little strained at the corners, too wide to be completely genuine.

“Sorry to leave you here like this. I know it’s your first day.” You breathed out a sigh, shoulders drooping. “But I’m meeting my sister soon and I don’t want to get stuck in traffic.”

“’s cool. I’ve cleaned pools before, I should be able to handle myself fine.”

“Oh, and if you want a refill, just head on inside and ask June. She’ll get you whatever you like. She’s cleaning the upper floor right now, but she’ll be in the kitchen later. She’s a real gem, I bet you’ll like her.”

“Thanks—for this and everything else.” Jungkook’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he sent you a smile. “I’ll look forward to meeting your husband some other time.”

“It will be his pleasure,” you said, not realizing how spot on your statement would turn out to be.

.

.

In hindsight, maybe you should’ve cancelled your outing altogether and stayed home—if only to spare you from the embarrassment brought on by your sister’s sudden exclamation.

“What do you mean he doesn’t want to have sex?!” Euna’s voice rose in incredulity.

It was louder than what etiquette dictated as appropriate, and you had to hide your flinch behind a strained smile. You felt eyes bore into you from all sides as people swiveled around to stare in your direction.

An elderly lady dressed head to toe in Chanel tweed snickered into her napkin after giving you a once-over.

“Will you. Keep. It. Down.” You reclined back on your chair, your shoulders hunching in on themselves defensively. “We’re in public, Euna. So if you don’t mind, I’d prefer it if everyone here wasn’t up to date with my sad and pitiful sex life, because that’s really the last thing I need right now, thanks.”

“Oh no.” Euna dabbed the sides of her mouth with a napkin, deathly serious. “We’re talking about this now. I know you. You haven’t told anyone else about this. Not that I blame you, honestly. Your friends are all attention craving socialites. And it’s not like you’d ever go tell Mom about this. Not when she’s expecting you to pop a baby out soon. She’d probably find a way to lock you and Yoongi up in some room until you conceive her first grandkid.”

“Can we not talk about babies right now? Or Mom.” You repressed a shudder because fuck. That was another problem altogether—one that you were not equipped to handle at this very moment.

“Fine,” she agreed easily. “Talk to me about your dick problems instead, then.”

“What do you want me to say?”

Your attempt at nonchalance was weak at best. In front of you, the porcelain plate, stacked high with delicious French and Danish pastries, remained practically untouched. Usually by now half of them would have been devoured, down to the very last crumb. If that wasn’t an indicator that something was wrong then what was?

“There’s literally nothing to talk about. We haven’t had sex in weeks. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Weeks?!” Her glossy lips parted in shock. The emphasis on the plural form made you wince. As if you needed the reminder. “What the fuck.”

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” you said glumly, allowing a frown to draw on your features. As much as you liked to pretend you were fine with your husband’s increasingly distant behavior, it was impossible to keep up the pretense in front of your sister. She had a way of extracting the truth from you—even if it was a truth you were reluctant to face.

“Do you think... Um.” There was a slight pause as Euna gathered her thoughts, still trying to get over the shock of your confession. She lowered her voice to a whisper, perhaps finally realizing that the couple seated next to you were doing a piss poor job at eavesdropping. “D’you think he might be...cheating on you?”

Your rebuttal came out immediately, without a single trace of hesitation, “No way.”

“Are you sure?”

Your hardened expression did nothing to deter her from pressing the issue. “I mean, it’s not too far-fetched to imagine him having a sizzling office romance with a coworker. Or maybe there’s a rival executive he could be sticking his dick in to seal a—”

“No. Yoongi’s not. He’s not like that.” You shook your head, trying to clear your vision from the offensive images her words had conjured up. “He’s just been busy and stressed with work, that’s all. There’s a big merger happening soon and there are still a lot of things under negotiation right now so he has a lot going on.”

“Well what about a blowjob? No? Not even an under the desk handjob?”

Her Alexander Wang silk blouse wrinkled under her crossed her arms. The look of betrayal painted on her face made it seem like you had offended her on a personal level. Honestly you weren’t sure why she was getting so worked up over this. It wasn’t her dick getting neglected. “Look, I don’t know about you, but I’ve never had a guy refuse a good ol’ dick sucking.”

“Well good for you.” Your voice lacked sincerity, dry as the desert.

“And I’m 90% sure all the pent up cum that accumulated in his balls is the reason Yoongi’s acting like such a grade ass prick.”

“Read that in Science Weekly, did you?”

“As a matter of fact,” Euna narrowed her eyes at your tone. “Doctors say that blowing your load on the regular is the secret to a long and prosperous life.”

“The ‘expert’ opinion in Cosmo isn’t considered medical backup.”

“Well are they wrong? If you got dicked down more often I bet you wouldn’t be so fucking snappy all the time. Frowning like that is only going to give you premature wrinkles. And that’s a fact.”

“Why do you have to make it a matter of dick or death. Jesus, it’s not that dramatic. I bet all couples go through these dry spells every once in awhile. It can’t be that uncommon.”

“It is! Keeping your vagina happy, keeps you happy. As an extension of—”

“Would it kill you to be serious for a second?”

She huffed, feeling wrongfully rebuked. “It’s your sex life is on the line, not mine.”

That sobered you up a lot more quickly than you would ever like to admit. “I’m well aware...” You pursed your lips into a pout. “Look, it’s not that he doesn’t want sex with me. He just doesn’t have time for it. Because of work. I’m sure everything will go back to normal in a few weeks.”

“In a few weeks? Uh...” Euna trailed off. “Can you even hold off that long?”

“Ha, your faith in me is astounding. I’ll have you know that I’m perfectly capable of going without sex for a month. Or two. I’m sure it won’t kill me... It’s not, like, the end of the world or anything.”

Euna’s raised brows made it clear that she didn’t believe you for one second. “Wasn’t the last time you abstained from sex for more than a month in—” She stopped, deep in thought. “When was the last time you took a break from sex? You have the sex drive of a rabbit.”

“That’s not important,” you snapped, stabbing your fork into a cheese tart. The rich, creamy texture melted on your tongue as soon as you bit into it, but for some reason your favorite dessert tasted like ash in your mouth. “I know you’re trying to help, but sex isn’t the magical solution to everything. It won’t fix anything. Not that anything needs fixing, I’m just saying.”

Sensing that the conversation was drawing to a close, Euna scooted backwards in her chair and stretched her arms. “Mhm, okay, if you say so. Good luck with all that... I sure wouldn’t want to be in your place, that’s for sure.”

That made two of you. 

“Thanks,” you sighed. “Just. Whatever, it’s okay, I’m fine. It’s really not a big deal.”

“Uh-huh. Well if things ever start to become...not okay...you can always—”

“I said everything’s fine,” you cut off sharply, effectively putting the conversation to rest. Your appetite lost, you set your fork down.

Regrettably, Euna’s words rattled you more than you cared to admit. You couldn’t shake off her warnings and advice no matter how much you tried to. Throughout the day, you found your thoughts wandering back to the conversation with your sister. Could she be right? The longer you let yourself ponder the issue, the more your doubts grew.

Despite your best efforts, you had no way of stopping these poisonous thoughts from plaguing your mind. No one was around to help you get rid of them and without an outlet, they grew and grew, culminating into an unbearable ache. 

You hated the feeling of loneliness—of being alone and helpless, with nothing but your own thoughts to entertain you. You wished Yoongi would hurry up and come back home so that you could find refuge in his embrace. The bed was too big for just you alone and you hated seeing how empty it was without Yoongi snuggled up next to you. It was always during the time before sleep claimed you that his absence was the most painful to swallow. The overwhelming feeling of loneliness kept you awake for hours. Sometimes, no matter how exhausted you were, your body refused to cooperate unless it knew Yoongi was laying down at your side.

It was with no surprise that you found yourself all alone in the king sized bed that night, Yoongi’s side untouched and unoccupied. Your fingers reached out to where his sleeping figure should have been. Instead of a warm body, you grasped a handful of air. The only reminder that he slept next to you was the faint trace of his aftershave that clung stubbornly to the sheets. You tried not to sigh out in disappointment. You had been doing too much of that lately.

Turning over, you checked your phone for any message notifications despite already knowing that you wouldn’t find what you were waiting for. You curled up in a ball, feeling colder than you had been a few moments ago. Ordinarily, you’d try to stay up and wait for his return, but the day had been so emotionally draining that you slipped into a dreamless sleep the second your eyelids drooped to a close.

.

{SATURDAY. 11.18 am}

.

Despite the unlimited number of TV channels provided, none of the current programs had been interesting enough to capture your attention for longer than a few seconds. Your focus had drifted from the flat screen a long time ago. An infomercial on a 10 speed juice blender buzzed on in the background, but you paid it no heed.

Summer was supposed to be synonymous to leisure and fun. Yet here you were, splayed across the living room’s couch with no tangible vacation plans.

The worst part was that you were alone, with no one to distract you from how utterly and entirely boring your existence had become.

Not that you’d ever confide these innermost feelings to anyone in your entourage. You could already hear your mother’s condescending tone ring through your ears, chastising you for not living your life to the fullest (i.e. spending all of your husband’s hard earned money on luxurious vacation trips to St. Barts or wherever). And sure, trips to St. Barts and St. Tropez were fun—but they weren’t what you wanted. There was no point of going so far overseas when the person you wanted to spend time with was stuck back home. At least here you could see Yoongi from time to time, even if those times were becoming a rarity.

Your friends wouldn’t understand. They had no qualms jetting off every weekend to their private resorts and eating out of season, imported delicacies plated on shining, sterling silver dishes.

Speaking of friends, you flicked through their Instagram accounts, envy stirring in your lower belly as you swiped through their recent pictures, each snapshot showing off lavish hotel rooms equipped with balconies overlooking exotic landscapes and modern skylines. But the designer handbags dangling off their arms weren’t what made you froth at the mouth—you had enough of those lining up your walk-in closet.

No, what you envied the most was how fucking happy they seemed in every single shot. Pic after pic, their whitened smiles never waned.

You blew out a sigh, the heavy sound drowned out by television static.

God. What were you even doing with your life? Was this what you had to look forward to for the next twenty years? Would you and Yoongi even last until then?

This wasn’t how you had imagined your life would turn out when you accepted Min Yoongi’s proposal a year ago.

The honeymoon phase was long over. Even in your company, his attention never strayed too far from his work phone. And that was when he was home. Over the course of the past few months, he had reverted back to the workaholic man his friends and family had always known him to be, leaving behind no trace of the person you had become so taken with.

Working for his attention had always been a challenge. That was what had initially drawn you to him. Out of all the possible suitors lined up for a taste of you, only Min Yoongi’s detachment and feigned disinterest had stood out from the lot. There was something exciting about it, something that kept you on your toes, as opposed to the throng of other candidates that would easily bend to your will. His handsome looks had just been an added bonus.

But somewhere along the way, there had been a shift, too minute to notice on the spot. Now, when Yoongi brushed you off, there was no gleam twinkling in his eyes, no smirk on his lips. It didn’t matter if you wrapped your body up in lace and the finest satin, or stayed up until the early hours of the morning for him to return home—he always asked for a rain check, claiming fatigue.

Eventually, you had stopped trying so hard. There were only so many times you could handle being pushed away again and again before it started to hurt.

As much as you had enjoyed earning the praise and attention in the past, you didn’t like...whatever this had become. It wasn’t a game with rules and limits anymore. When Yoongi pushed you off of him, he meant it. So as much as you appreciated a man who was hardworking and dedicated to his job, you couldn’t help but crave the attention he had stopped giving you. 

The pressure weighing down on your chest increased, making it hard to breathe. Invisible hands had wrapped themselves around your lungs and squeezed hard, leaving no room for air. For an interminable moment, you felt like you were drowning, the sound of your heartbeat drumming in your ears.

When you blinked and swallowed, the feeling had disappeared, leaving you feeling hollow, like someone had dug out your heart with a chisel.

It took a while, but you pushed yourself up into a sitting position and finally made up your mind.

What you needed was a distraction, something to keep your hands and mind busy. You couldn’t stay put like this, trapped in your own thoughts and feelings. If you did, you’d surely go mad.

...The only problem was that there weren’t that many distractions available. You could go out on your own into the city to shop or eat but you dismissed the thought as soon as it had a chance to take form. Your closet was already full to the brim with clothes you hadn’t yet found the chance to wear.

As if she had somehow telepathically perceived your difficulties, June, your housekeeper, materialized into the living room, holding a laundry basket against her hip. Quickly, you gathered to your feet, excited by the prospect of finally finding something to do.

She jumped up in surprise, a high-pitched squeal leaving her throat, not expecting to see you appear in front of her with no prior warning. A strand of her curly hair escaped her wound-up bun but she deftly pinned it back in place after readjusting her hold on the laundry basket.

“Is there anything I can help with?” you asked eagerly.

“Sorry? I don’t quite understand...” 

“Like... I don’t know... Maybe some dishes to clean or socks to fold up...” 

“You want to clean dishes?” she echoed, looking at you as if you had suddenly sprouted a second pair of limbs. 

You tried not to take offense and pursed your lips.

“Yes,” you confirmed with a firm nod of your head. “Any tasks that you might need help with.”

“Are you feeling okay ma’am?” she queried instead, the lines on her forehead expressing genuine worry. “Do you need to lay down? Should I get water? The heat might be—”

“I’m fine! I just.” You wrung your hands in agitation. Why the hell was this so complicated? Since when did cleaning require justification? “I need something to do. I’m so bored I feel like I’m losing it.”

“Ah. I see...” She looked unconvinced by your words but knew better than to voice her concerns. “Alright. In that case you can do the—ah. Hmm. Why don’t you prepare some cold drinks for the pool boy? The weather must be giving him a hard time.”

“That’s it? You don’t need any help with the cleaning? You had the feeling that she didn’t entrust you with the more ‘serious’ household chores because she was worried you’d inadvertently blowup appliances or flood the laundry room again.

(It had happened once. Forever ago. Wasn’t it time to let it go? How were you supposed to know that you needed to measure the detergent before dumping it in?)

“... Maybe later. I’ll be sure to let you know if I need additional assistance, but thank you for offering.” She shot you a professional smile, putting an end to the discussion.

You trudged back to the kitchen, dragging your faux fur slippers across the floor in defeat.

It wasn’t what you had hoped for, but at least you had something to occupy the time with. Knowing that this was your only distraction, you planned on prolonging this task for as long as humanly possible.

What should have taken less than a minute to complete had turned into a tedious chore. You cleaned each strawberry by hand, cutting out the stems with unneeded precision, before slicing them into thin, even pieces. You did the same with the mint leaves and mixed it all into a glass pitcher.

Satisfied with the end result, you poured a generous amount of lemonade into the tall glass before storing the rest in the fridge for later. It was hard to keep the drink balanced on the tray as you slid open the glass door, but you somehow managed to not make a mess.

The heat hit you all at once and you frowned, feeling bad for whoever had been sent out today to clean the pool. It was laborious work and the weather did nothing to alleviate the situation. Nobody wanted to work outside in these less than pleasant conditions which was why it had been a pain the ass to find suitable candidates that were up for the job.

You had tried finding solutions around this problem—like raising the pay rate and alternating between different cleaners every couple of days so that the same one wouldn’t be subjected to the grueling heat all week long. You had been surprised to see how many people sent in applications—not that you were complaining. The only one who had something to say, was Mrs. Kim, the widow from across the street, who liked to grumble about how you were stealing all the good ones.

At the time, you hadn’t quite understood what she had been trying to insinuate. Weren’t all pool cleaners the same? But as you approached the pool, tray balanced dangerously on one hand, it all started to make sense.

Time slowed down like it did in those cheesy, over-the-top kdramas that were all the rage amongst housewives. How many times had you seen the same scenario play out whenever the male protagonist appeared on screen for the first time and met eyes with the heroine from across the room?

It was like you had suddenly been thrust into the drama lead’s shoes. Everything else seemed to fade away, your gaze drawn to man in front of you like a moth to a flame. It was impossible not to stare. Some invisible magnetic force kept your eyes fixated on him. The world could have been crumbling around you for all you knew.

His damp clothes clung to his body like a second skin, revealing sinewy muscles worthy of Calvin Klein billboards. Greedily, you drank in his figure, your gaze lingering on the attractive curve of his ass and the outline of his abs visible through the now see-through white shirt.

You gulped audibly, your mouth unpleasantly dry. It was distracting. He was distracting. Only a miracle had kept you from dropping the tray you were holding. 

Eyes closed, the man tipped his head back and brought his right hand up, carding his fingers through his wet locks. Like a magnet, your eyes were immediatley drawn to his bare neck.

You were transfixed. There was no other word or explanation for it. Even if you had been able to, the chance of you peeling your eyes away from the spectacle in front of you was slim to none.

It hadn’t even registered how ridiculous you probably looked, with your feet planted to the ground and your mouth parted in evident awe.

You took a much needed moment to appreciate his profile—your eyes running down the sharp line of his jaw and down the slope of his neck towards his exposed collarbones. Water droplets dripped down his handsome face and in that very moment you swore that he looked like he had stepped out of a high-end underwear advertisement.

He strung a spare towel around his neck before turning his full attention onto you. Instantly, you were struck by how alive his eyes appeared. They glinted with thinly-veiled mischief. That, the fullness of his lips, and the confident smirk he sported, gave him a youthful and playful mien that contrasted with his virile and attractive build.

“Er...” You coughed, politely averting your eyes from his body. “Do you— Do you need me to get you a spare pair of swim trunks? Yours look a little, um, small.”

You winced, knowing it had been the wrong thing to say.

“Oh?” There was a teasing lilt to his voice that had you looking up at him in alarm. His smile widened, the corners of his eyes creasing into crescents. “Please don’t bother. I work better in these.”

“Oh...well... If you’re sure.”

“Certain.”

He licked his lips. His eyes were hooded, heavy lids doing nothing to subdue the sultry look aimed your way.

“Alright.” You swallowed and paused, searching for the appropriate words. In the span of a few short seconds, your brain had short circuited. You got the next few words out, tongue heavy in your mouth. “If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Your name would be nice.” An easy smile sat on his lips.

“______.” You included your last name, hoping he’d get the hint. Briefly, you remembered your interaction with one of the other pool boys, Jungkook, and how flustered he had gotten over his mistake. The one standing in front of you couldn’t have been more different.

“Park Jimin. You can call me Jimin.” He glanced down at the platter you gripped onto with both hands. “This for me?”

Light reflected off the metallic surface of the tray and you were reminded of what you had stepped out the house for.

“Yes, please have something to drink. I made it earlier, I hope it’s to your taste.”

“Thanks for thinking of me.” He took the glass of freshly pressed lemonade off the tray, using the opportunity to step closer to you. The sharp scent of chlorine tickled your nose but to your surprise, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “It gets awfully hot out here and I get so thirsty. You know what I mean, right?”

His voice was as sweet as cotton candy. It took a moment for you to realize he had stopped talking and a few seconds more for you to remember how to form words of your own.

“I try to make refreshments available for all the staff. Everyone works really hard, even in this weather, so I’m thankful,” you said, trying to retain a certain air of professionalism. Hopefully it would be enough to stop him from seeing through the bullshit spouting from your mouth.

Jimin jutted out his bottom lip in a pout before raising his glass to his mouth. He took a big gulp, probably all too aware of the way you were tracking the movement with your eyes. In what was probably a calculated and premeditated move, the pink of his tongue darted out to lick the sweetness off his lips. Distantly, you noted how full and rosy his lips were.

“Aw. And here’s to thinking I was special.”

He let out an exaggerated sigh and shook his head. Water droplets fell from his wet fringe, the soaked strands sticking to his forehead. “So what’s a pretty thing like you doing shacked up, hm?”

“What?” The bluntness of his words caught you off guard. You were used to people being coy, hiding their pretenses behind smiles and well-versed pleasantries. Jimin’s forwardness left you momentarily dumbfounded and at a loss for words.

“Gotta admit, when I took up this job I was expecting to land the standard.” Jimin laughed, pleased. “Can’t deny this is a welcome surprise. Nothing wrong with the older crowd, but you’re definitely something else.”

“E-Excuse me?”

“So what’s your story?” His eyes raked over your form. Unabashed, he lingered on the swell of your breasts, the dip at your waist. You blinked, the apples of your cheeks warming as you remembered you hadn’t worn a bra. You hadn’t thought much about your choice of outfit before—it was thin and comfortable enough to wear around the house, the silky material soft against your skin. Jimin seemed to appreciate the selection, too, if the way his eyes darkened in approval was any indication.

He tapped a finger against the pout of his lips in mock contemplation. “Let me guess. Married a geezer who’s too busy banging his hot secretary to look after you. And when he does, you wish he didn’t because his stamina is shit. Can he even get it up? Heard old age does that to you, not that I would know...”

He shrugged, the smile on his lips sympathetic.

“Yoongi isn’t like that,” you denied right away, a frown ruining your expression. You knew that the conversation was most definitely crossing lines that shouldn’t be crossed. You kept telling yourself to put an end to it before it could get out of hand.

“No?” Jimin leaned in, close enough for you to feel his hot breath fan across your skin.

You didn’t dare move, let alone breathe. Any closer and your breasts would graze his chest. The shocking part was that you almost wanted it to happen. Not that—not that you wanted it to happen with Jimin, specifically. You just wanted. Your body had been suspended in a constant state of yearning for so long that it didn’t take much to stir its interest.

He stepped back to properly appraise you. A shudder ran down your back as you struggled not to let your emotions show. “You look awfully desperate for someone who should be getting dicked down on the regular.”

You opened your mouth to retort but no sound came out.

The heat in his gaze left you breathless. Yoongi used to look at you the same way, before. You remembered the hunger, the way your body used to warm up and ache and squirm under the power of his gaze. Whenever he looked at you with those eyes, your knees would buckle and you’d fall to your knees without question.

“Trust me,” Jimin continued on, oblivious to the perverse thoughts running through your mind. “If that was my ring on your finger, you’d never leave our bed because you’d be too fucked out to even get up. What’s that husband of yours thinking?”

He shook his head, not expecting a verbal answer from you. When he spoke up, his voice had a dangerous undertone.

“It’s because he’s not satisfying your needs,” he said matter of factly. “If he wasn’t as disappointing in bed as you claimed, there’s no way you’d be out here, panting for my dick down your throat instead of his. Isn’t that right, sweetheart? You need a nice, thick cock to fill you all the way up. And I can give you what you want, you just gotta say the word.”

Were you being that obvious?

You bit back the whimper threatening to claw its way out your throat. His words kindled a desire deep inside of you—a primal desire you had valiantly tried to suppress for the past month. Yet with only a few well chosen sentences, he had coaxed that need back to the surface, putting all your efforts to waste.

Different scenarios and possibilities flashed in front of your eyes like a fast-forwarded montage. You were so caught up in your thoughts, the infinite could if’s, that Jimin’s disappointed sigh had become background noise.

“Too much?”

You blinked up at him owlishly, not fully grasping the situation until he had taken a few steps back. Even as he backed off, the smirk never fully melted off his face which was a little disconcerting.

Thankfully, the newfound space separating both of you made it easier to breathe, to think straight.

With a surprisingly steady voice, you spoke out. “Jimin, I’m married—”

“I know.” Jimin shrugged as if what you had told him was an inconsequential detail.

Nonplussed by Jimin’s behavior, you bit the inside of your cheek.

Shouldn’t this guy have some morals? Usually men backed off at the mention of a husband but Jimin refused to conform to the norm. Based on what he had previously insinuated, he probably had fucked his fair share of married women. So was it all a game to him? A kink? An ego thing? Were you doomed to be just another notch on his belt? You furrowed your brow, trying to figure out the conundrum that was Park Jimin.

He misinterpreted your silence and sighed, an exaggerated pout on his pink lips.

“It was worth a try... The offer still stands, if you ever change your mind.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. I’m not going to force myself onto you or anything.” He grimaced at the thought. “But you should know that the option’s there. I wasn’t lying about what I said earlier... You deserve to be with someone who knows what he’s doing... And by the looks of it... He’s not fucking you nearly or well enough to keep you satisfied. I’m more than willing to be of service in any way I can. I promise you won’t be disappointed, I’ve never gotten complaints before.”

He pushed his hair back as his eyes perused your form again, his gaze half-lidded. You swallowed the lump in your throat and looked away. You hated how correct most of his assumptions had been. And what you hated even more was how certain he seemed about it all, like his words were the absolute truth.

Something about that irked you. You hated being read so easily—by a stranger, no less. It was embarrassing, how easily he had assessed your situation and lumped you with the countless other bored housewives he had undoubtedly had his way with.  

“Well, thanks for the offer, but no thanks, I’m good. I’m perfectly fine. I appreciate your concern, but it’s not needed.” Even to your own ears, your speech failed to sound convincing. At this point, you weren’t sure who you were trying to persuade—Jimin or yourself. Either way, you weren’t proving to be very capable; your words rung out false and hollow.

“Enjoy the rest of your drink. I hope it quenches your thirst.”

And with that, you turned your head and scurried back into the sanctity of your house, far away from sin and temptation itself. Heart palpitating, you swore that you felt Jimin’s gaze follow you all the way to the door, clinging to you like a shadow. The look he had given you right before you scampered off was one that you’d spend the rest of the day trying to forget.

Unfortunately for you, time was not a sufficient balm to soothe over the heat Jimin’s words ignited. Long after the sun had set, the utter filth that had spilled from his lips kept running through your mind, keeping you up.

Sleep was impossible to find, not that you were surprised. It was becoming a regular occurrence and you figured that you should go seek a doctor’s help if your condition didn’t improve soon.

But you knew that what you needed were neither pills nor herbal concoctions—your body needed Yoongi. You missed his presence, the way he stroked your cheek after you pulled back from a kiss, the way he kept eye contact when he pushed his thick cock between your legs.

God, you fucking missed that asshole.

You hadn’t always hated how much you depended on your husband. You had wealth of your own—or rather your family had wealth of their own—but all your personal expenses and whims had been funded and provided by Yoongi. All of your possessions had been bought with his money—everything from the imported cars, the luxury bags, the designer goods, and the summer residence in The Hamptons you visited every now and then.

The dependence hadn’t bothered you before. And it still didn’t—not in the way that it might bother or embarrass others, anyway. You never felt like you were in his debt after spending hefty amounts of money; that was not how your relationship worked. 

What made you uneasy was how physically dependent on him you had become. It wasn’t until you had been repeatedly denied from his touch that you realized how much your body craved it, ran on it like how a car needed fuel.

Tonight was the night, you finally decided, determination set in your features.

Reaching into the closet, you pulled out your most recent purchase from La Perla and slipped it on, making sure it still looked as good as it had a week ago in the dressing room mirror. You hadn’t found the right moment to wear it and figured it wouldn’t hurt to put the expensive lingerie to good use.

A nervous energy tingled down your spine as you got ready. Anticipation was building inside your belly but you couldn’t tell if it was the good or bad kind. You were brought back to a time when it had been fun to surprise Yoongi. Those had been the best nights—even the mere memory of them had your thighs squeezing together. Back then, the possibility that he might shut you down hadn’t existed.

Maybe you already knew, deep down, that you were setting yourself up for failure.

It still didn’t stop your chest from constricting painfully around your ribs when Yoongi reacted exactly the way you had feared he might.

“What’s gotten into you?” His face conveyed confusion, his gaze flickering from the lit candles around the room to the way your body was splayed out indecently on the bed, body covered by the barest scraps of frill and lace.

On any other day, the sharpness in his tone would have been enough to cut through your confidence and back off. You would have dropped the subject and moved on. But this time the sting of rejection wasn’t easy to dismiss, repetition only making it worse.  

“What does it look like I’m doing?” you snapped, frustration getting the best of you. You sat up from your position on the bed, not missing the way his gaze dropped down to your exposed chest. To your great disappointment, you couldn’t spot any arousal in his expression. He might as well have been looking at a blank sheet of paper. What had changed? Was it him—or was it you?  

Your sister’s words from a few days ago were creeping back now, reinforcing all the doubts and dejection you had fought so hard to suppress. Why didn’t he want you? Were you not desirable anymore? Had he found someone else to fulfill his primal needs? And if he had, what did that mean for you?

What the hell were you supposed to do with a husband that refused to touch you, let alone talk to you?

A sickly feeling rose up your throat, the acidic taste of bile flooding your mouth.  

“Do you not love me anymore?”

The question was meant as an accusation, the words supposed to carry the weight of all your pent up fury and bitterness. Instead of the harshness you had intended, your voice came out feeble and wrung out. The truth was that you were afraid of his answer and what it would do to you. Yoongi’s words were the only ones capable of breaking through the armor you had built around yourself. You didn’t care for the gossiping housewives or the scummy tabloids. But Yoongi? He had always been different. Important. Yours.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It doesn’t suit you,” he chided none too gently.

“Can you stop that?” In the bedroom, the authority he wielded aroused you to no end. But sometimes, like now, Yoongi’s tone and wording rubbed you the wrong way. Did your feelings not matter anymore? When he spoke like that, it made you feel so small. And not in a good way, not the way you liked to feel like during good sex or when he hugged you, limbs wrapped around yours like your own personal fortress.

You pulled the strings of your robe together, your body turned to ice. The see-through material was lightweight and flimsy, doing nothing to obscure your body from view or keep you warm. 

Why had you tried in the first place? Like Yoongi said, you felt ridiculous.

Pride bruised and battered, you attempted to keep your wobbly voice steady.

“God, you can be so condescending when you want to be. I’m not a plaything you only listen to and take care of when it pleases you. I’m your wife, not some plant you need to water every two weeks, don’t you get that?” You weren’t even angry anymore. All you wanted was for this to be over and for your relationship to go back to the way it was before. You were tired of feeling insecure, tired of waiting and wanting. Just...tired.

Yoongi’s brows furrowed, his mouth opened as if to voice his immediate protest.

“I’m not—” He cut himself off, lips thinning into a frown. The deep line between his brows never smoothed over, as if permanently etched onto his features. He bit the inside of his mouth, taking a moment to choose his next words carefully.

Maybe it was a trick of the light, but he suddenly appeared older, closer to the age written down on his official documents. Genetics had given Yoongi smooth skin and good looks that made him look more youthful than his actual age. But as he stood there in front of you, you could tell that Yoongi’s beauty was marred by evident signs of fatigue and stress. 

“I... I didn’t know I made you feel that way,” he confessed sounding genuinely regretful. “I wasn’t—it wasn’t my intention to. I’m sorry it came off that way. I don’t think of you like that, just so you know.”

The silence that followed his words stretched on for several long seconds.

He didn’t look away from your probing gaze. Even without searching, you knew his words to ring true. He was a bad liar. Good at keeping his feelings locked under key, yes, but never one to outright deceive others. Yoongi had always been bad at expressing affection. He was also bad at reading feelings. He was probably so caught up with his workload that he hadn’t noticed at all.

In retrospect, your outburst had been somewhat unfair. Maybe you were being unreasonable, adding on to his extensive list of worries.

But, no. That didn’t sound quite right, either. Just because he hadn’t been aware that your feelings had been hurt, did not mean that what you felt wasn’t valid. You weren’t selfish for wanting to be happy. You shouldn’t have to feel guilty for wanting to be loved.

“I know,” you said, voice quiet enough to pass as a whisper. 

Yoongi’s sharp eyes softened. The hard lines around his mouth rounded into a small smile.

“Come here.” He walked over to the bed, his legs spreading as he sat down.

The open invitation was one you were powerless to resist. Although you knew the conversation was far from over, you had missed his warmth and his touch far too much to refuse him. Your entire body hummed, itching for the close physical contact that you had been denied for so long.

His thighs flexed as your fingers dug into his silk pajamas for leverage. From this distance, you could see how haggard he truly was. Purple lined the underside of his eyes, making them look swollen and bruised. His skin was pale, almost translucent, and his cheekbones more prominent than you remembered them to be. When had he last had a proper meal? You suspected that he hadn’t been taking care of himself, no matter what he tried to make you believe. Whenever he got into that serious headspace of his, nothing else mattered but his work—not food, not sleep, and certainly not you.

Cold hands inching up your back interrupted your train of thought. You had been so touch-deprived that any amount of attention directed your way made your body vibrate with ill-concealed excitement.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been neglecting you. Things right now are...” He exhaled sharply, his shoulders slouching under the weight of his worries. “Work has been keeping me busy, that’s for sure. I’m afraid I can’t do much about that. I promise I’ll make it up to you in a few days, once this blows over and we secure our terms.”

“You’ve been so stressed,” you remarked as your own hands wandered up his arms and shoulders. His lean muscles were unnaturally tense under your touch. It had been so long since you had touched him properly that the planes of his body felt like unfamiliar territory.

When he didn’t move away or show any signs of protest, you leaned in to press your lips against his. The kiss was slow, your mouth melting against his like snow falling on a furnace. 

The silky material of his clothes facilitated the glide of your hands down his chest. But before you could reach any lower, Yoongi grabbed you by the wrists, effectively halting your movements.

“Not tonight,” he whispered roughly against your lips, short of breath. 

“When?” You hated how whiny and petulant the question made you sound, but you couldn’t help it. 

“Shall I pencil in an appointment, then?” he humored. “Would you honestly be happier I gave you a time, place and date?” 

“Not really, but I’ll take it.”

“Is sex really the only thing that matters to you?” he asked, half fond, half exasperated. 

“It’s your fault for marrying a slut. You should’ve known what you were signing up for.”

You shared a smile. For once nothing felt awkward or strained. You tried to cherish the moment while it lasted.

Yoongi’s expression eventually morphed into the apologetic one you had grown accustomed to seeing recently. You tried not to let your stomach sink in disappointment, already anticipating his rejection before he could voice it.

“I’m sorry, I’m just not in the mood. You know I can’t focus when there’s so much going on at work.”

“You won’t even need to do anything!” you tried despite knowing that your chances of convincing him were slim. “I’ll top and do all the work.”

“If that’s the case, can’t you just use a sex toy?" Yoongi rolled his eyes. “What’s my use if I’m just going to lay there and take it like a starfish?”

“Did you think I wasn’t using a sex toy all this time? I have a high sex drive... I wasn’t going to just sit around and not take care of myself.”

“Then what’s the problem? It doesn’t matter how you get your pleasure. I’m not one of those men who get weird over their partners using toys. It won’t be a blow to my pride, or whatever.”

“It’s not enough, okay?! I need your cock filling me up, fucking me into the mattress. Every time I cum on my own, it’s not enough.”

“I said no.” He sighed. “Look, it doesn’t matter to me how you deal with it but I can’t take care of it.”

“Take care of it? Is having sex with me a chore or something? Jesus.” You pushed him away with an annoyed expression. Yoongi’s hands dropped from your waist, not putting up much of a fight when you left the seat of his lap.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he said ever so patiently, almost like he was talking to a child.

You huffed, scooting further away from him. It didn’t escape your notice that he made no effort to close the physical distance separating the two of you, his hands laying limp at his side.

“So you’re saying you don’t care how I get myself off? You wouldn’t say anything? Not even if I went and got myself a real cock to fulfill my needs?”

Yoongi raised his brows, the insinuation taking him by surprise. Clearly he’d underestimated your level of desperation. You watched his face closely, hoping to decipher what was running through his mind. Unfortunately, you couldn’t tell if the tightness in his features hid displeasure or interest.

His lips were drawn into a thin line as he mulled the proposition over. After a moment of silence, he said in an even tone, “Go ahead, if that’s what you want.”

What.

You hadn’t actually expected him to agree. Turn you over and spank you for suggesting something so outrageous. Get angry for pushing an issue he wanted to drop. But not... You didn’t think that he’d actually be okay with it. Did that mean that he had stopped cari—?

Before you had the chance to finish that thought, he continued on, the dark of his pupils pulsing, “You know that I’ll never deny you. Everything you want is yours. That is my promise to you.”

You opened your mouth to contest but he beat you to it. 

“Whether it’s my cock you need, or another’s. So be it—if that’s all it takes for my needy wife to be satisfied.” A slow smirk pulled at the right side of his mouth. When he spoke, it was gruff and laced with arousal. “You can try to find all the substitutes in the world, but you know that the only one capable of giving you the pleasure you crave so deeply is me.”

Ribbons of heat immediately curled in the pit of your stomach. Dimly, you thought how unfair your dynamic with Yoongi was—all he needed to do was snap his fingers and you’d happily spread open your legs for him. You had always been eager to please him, but you had to admit that the time spent away from him hadn’t fixed such matters.

His hand reached out to trace the outline of your lips. You didn’t dare breathe as the touch of his fingertips lingered, the ghost of a promise making your heart jump in anticipation. Your lips parted in silent invitation, giving him permission to ruin you.

He leaned in so that his breath caressed your skin, the gentle whisper carrying a dark undertone.

“So be patient, darling—or I’ll give you nothing.”

Whether this was a promise or a threat, you were left unsure.

.

.

{MONDAY; 11:19 am}

.

This was a bad idea. A Very Bad Idea.

But bad ideas had never been enough to stop you from getting what you wanted in the past. You called it determination. Some people would disagree with the sentiment but when had their opinions mattered?

Two weeks ago, you wouldn’t have considered going through with this. But your last conversation with Yoongi had been the final push you needed.

Your face broke into a scowl as you remembered his parting words. The infuriating part was what had been written all over his face—the haughty certainty that you’d never rise to the challenge he had issued. That was what had ticked you off the most. You hated losing, but you hated being underestimated and easily dismissed as a non-threat even more. And Yoongi? He knew that about you—and had used it to his advantage.

The question was…could you go through with it? You had never dared to go this far in the past. 

In truth, you hadn’t even considered it. The only person you were interested in was Yoongi. It didn’t matter if other men were closer to your age, richer, brawnier, or more traditionally handsome. The only one you wanted was Yoongi. That would always be your constant variable.

So why were you out here in this gross heat, instead of inside the comfort of your house?

Beads of sweat accumulated near your hairline and dripped down your neck. You resisted the urge to grimace. There was nothing you hated more than sweating in a context that wasn’t good sex or a pilates class. 

Not that your sacrifices mattered anyway—you knew for a fact that Taehyung hadn’t spared you a second glance since he had gotten to work.

You risked a peep over the latest issue of Vogue you had been pretending to read, your sight zeroing on the person in charge of cleaning your pool for the day. He was ridiculously handsome, with strong, defined features and a lithe build, and had this habit of sticking out his tongue whenever he was particularly focused on a task.

Kim Taehyung was maybe a little too absorbed in his work. Was it normal to be this hardworking? Not that you would know what the norm was—you had never worked a day in your life whereas your husband took his job way too seriously. Judging by what you had witnessed in the last hour, you were inclined to believe that being unhealthily dedicated to your work was the norm. The poor kid had yet to take a water break.

You hid a sigh by sipping your fruit smoothie. 

In theory, porn made seducing the pool boy seem like an easy and achievable task—but the truth was that you had no idea how to go about it. It was a shame the clichéd porn scenarios hadn’t covered what to do in case the pool boy in question failed to acknowledge your presence altogether. 

He had worked nonstop since he had arrived, barely looking up from his crouched position near the edge of the pool, too busy fishing out floating leaves and dried flower petals with the help of a skimmer.

You looked down at your bathing suit just to check that your cleavage was still on obvious display.

It had been a long time since you had to work for someone’s attention that wasn’t Yoongi’s. Were you rusty? Or had you really become that undesirable? It didn’t seem to matter that you were wearing a risque bathing suit. You might as well have been a potted plant.

Taehyung had the defense of a wall of steel. It didn’t matter what tricks you resorted to catch his eye—he never budged an inch. Even when you stretched your limbs, nylon straining to keep your decency in tact, Taehyung didn’t bat an eye. 

Needless to say, it was a huge blow to your pride.

Glad that no one else was around to witness your embarrassing attempts, you nonetheless wished to erase your existence from this earth. You gripped the sides of the magazine tighter to cover the entirety of your face and prayed for his shift to end soon.

“I could have been naked and he wouldn’t have noticed,” you despaired the next day, pressing the phone closer to your ear. 

“Maybe he just prefers dicks?” Euna tried to comfort. “Or... You know... Maybe he values his job and doesn’t want to get fired for sexual harassment.”

“I wasn’t—” You spluttered. “I’m just saying he wasn’t looking. The plants were more interesting than me! He just... I can’t believe I got bested by fucking weeds.”

“Tough luck. You shouldn’t get sulky because someone would rather work than bone you.” She paused, perhaps realizing how deep rooted your insecurity was. “Relax. It’s not the end of the world! He’s just one guy, they’re not all like that! You’re not the problem here. Sometimes guys... They need you to be more direct. They don’t understand subtle. Like, you just have to go for it. Batting your eyelashes and showing some sideboob isn’t going to suffice.”

“What do you mean go for it?” Your nose wrinkled in disdain. Yes, you were dick deprived, but not to the point that you’d jump on the nearest available dick like some savage.

“Haven’t you ever watched porn?”

“I’d rather die than deepthroat a popsicle.”

“Oh please. Like you haven’t done worse than that. ” You could hear the eye roll that accompanied her comment. “I’m telling you that men are thick in the head and sometimes need you to spell it out for them, letter by letter, word by word. None of that coy shit. The only ones that fall for that are men like your husband.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” 

“Hmph. He has the emotional range of a pea—”

“You’ve only talked to him three times in your life?”

“—so it’s surprising how well the two of you get along, all things considered. Though I suppose if anyone’s gonna get an emotionally constipated person to confess their feelings, it’s you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Did you think I was complimenting you? Oh - I gotta go now, Mom needs me in the kitchen. I’ll call you back tonight!”

“Can’t. I have T&S’s premiere launch event to attend.”

“Oh fine. Good luck, then. Get that dick! Wh— Yeah, it’s your other daughter. Oh fine. Yes, I’ll let her know.” Euna turned her attention back to you and let out a small noise of exasperation. “Mom says she’s happy to hear you and Yoongi are doing well. She’s wondering when you’ll share some, um, good news with her.”

Her words were laden with meaning. You didn’t need her to elaborate any further, having already been roped into the same conversation countless times before.

Somewhere in the background, you could hear your mother yell get that dick! with all the aggressiveness of a cheerleader during the last five minutes of a game.

Ignoring her was the wisest move. You hurriedly bid her goodbye, eager to end the call, knowing that if you didn’t you’d have to be subjected to another hour of your mother’s ceaseless nagging. And—ugh. You had other pressing matters on your hands.

Like, for one, getting that dick.

.

.

{WEDNESDAY. 11.45 am}

.

Getting dick was—surprisingly—not an easy feat. College!you would be crying if she saw how much you were currently struggling.

Your busy husband remained unswayed, no matter how often you tempted him to yield. 

That only left you with so many options, the next one being: OSTPB — Operation Seduce the Pool Boy. 

...Although that option wasn’t proving to be as fruitful as you had hoped.

Where had it all go wrong? You would have thought that your pride was enough to overwrite any subsequent embarrassment. Even if your self-esteem suffered as a consequence of your actions, you had been determined to see this through. 

Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined failing for a second time—but such had been your fate.

A glower broke out across your face, tiny creases forming between your groomed brows. Your most recent non-success had gone spectacularly awry and every time you thought back to what had happened, your stomach turned over in mortification.

Unlike Taehyung, Kim Namjoon had seen you coming from a mile away. His sharp stare had pierced straight through you, uncovering all of your secrets with the force of his gaze alone. It had taken one look at your scantily-clad body for him to correctly assess the situation and act accordingly.

Somehow that had made his disinterest all the more disheartening and humiliating. The experience forced you see your situation in a different light. You couldn’t help but pity yourself a little. A married woman throwing herself at any handsome man that came her way? That was pathetic, even by your standards.

Maybe you were better off calling the whole thing off. At least, that’s what you convinced yourself. You hadn’t counted on a third opportunity to present itself.

“Bad day?” 

“That obvious?”

Hoseok smiled. “I’d say so, yeah. You’re drinking before lunch. That’s never a good sign.”

He had a point.

Crinkling your nose, you explained, “I had to attend a baby shower this morning... It’s the third one this month! Honestly. What is it, mating season?” To you, it all served as one big reminder that everyone was getting it on except for you—which naturally put you in the brightest mood.

“Then why bother going? I’m sure you could find other activities to do instead.”

“Free Dom Perignon,” was your automatic answer, albeit not a truthful one. Hoseok cracked a smile.

“I wouldn’t have thought that to be a problem...” He eyed the flute of sparkling champagne you were currently nursing.

“It’s the principle. But... You’re right. They’re always such a chore. And I could definitely pass up on Sohee’s constant nagging. God, she never shuts up. Especially after starting on the champagne. Fucking lightweight,” you glowered, lipstick stained mouth thinning into a straight line. “All she ever does is gloat and provoke me. Whatever. She’s just mad the man she got married to is nearing 60 and balding. I’d be mad, too.” 

Hoseok laughed. It tumbled out of his parted mouth, loud, unrestrained, and so unlike the artificial pleasantries you had been subjected to all morning. The sound was clear and infectious, ringing through the summer air like wind chimes. 

You gulped down the remnants of champagne, the golden bubbles sliding down your throat smoothly. It wasn’t your first flute of the day. By now, the alcohol was flowing pleasantly through your bloodstream, warming your skin to a glow. The muscles on your face relaxed.

“But think of all the free fancy ass booze and food you’d be missing out on. If you hate the others so much, just go sit in a corner and eat your truffle hors d’oeuvres and caviar canapés in peace.” 

“If only I could,” you said, followed by a very dramatic eye roll. “I’ve got an image to keep up, you know. The gossiping crones already see me as some dumb bimbo who whored herself out to land a nice, rich, young husband.” You tried to keep your voice light and airy, but shades of bitterness could be heard despite your best efforts. 

Your marriage with Yoongi had caused quite the stir... Even now, a good year after the wedding, people still had your name on their lips, tainting it with disdain.

What bothered you was that they thought Yoongi was easy. Did they think all it took was a nice rack and a tight ass to win him over? Sometimes you wished your husband only thought with his dick—it would make things a lot easier for you, that was for sure—but that wasn’t the kind of man he was. And at the end of the day, that wasn’t the kind of man you wanted him to be, either.

“Ah, come on, it can’t be that bad.” Hoseok’s lazy smile drooped. You turned your face away, hating the sympathy you could see in his eyes. You didn’t need to be pitied. Annoyance made you take another sip.

The smart move would be to agree and end that particular discussion with a swift conversation change. It was what you were used to doing. 

But an invisible force stopped the words from shaping. Later on, you’d blame it on the liquor in your veins muddling your judgment and the sweltering summer heat making you dizzy. Instead of the prepared answers you were used to dishing out, your genuine emotions bubbled to the surface before you could filter them—and once you got started, it was impossible to stop. 

“It is. I’ve heard them. They’re not discreet, nor do they want to be.” You adjusted the sunglasses perched on your nose bridge, glad you had something to hinder Hoseok’s attentive gaze. He was too observant for his own good. “They’re always equally surprised and disappointed when they learn Yoongi hasn’t filed for divorce and put himself back on the market. Sohee’s only two years younger than me but she keeps asking me for tips.”

“Tips?”

“Yes...” To your chagrin, you found that the flute of champagne was empty so you set it down. “She always rubs her age in my face as if a two year age gap is that big of a deal. Hmph. According to her, the only reason Yoongi would stay with me for so long is because of my evil feminine wiles.”

“Didn’t you say she has a husband? Why does she care what you do with Mr. Min?”

“Yeah, well, joke’s on them because I don’t do anything.” Something sour ruined your expression. At least your Gucci shades gave you something to hide behind. “Not for lack of trying, anyway,” you added bitterly.

Hoseok tilted his head to the side, his expression one of polite confusion.

“...You don’t do anything?” he parroted, trying to make sense of the words. It was the first time hearing you profess yourself so frankly, without pretense or filter.  

“I don’t want to spell it out for you,” you grumbled, not daring to meet his eyes. You were pathetic as it was... No need to make yourself look even worse. As if you needed Hoseok pitying your nonexistent sex life on top of everything else.

There was a moment of silence, only broken by the sound of birds chirping and the distant sound of your neighbor’s dog barking. You let your eyelids flutter close, feeling a strange sensation of calm wash over your body.

Admittedly, getting your inner frustrations off your chest had been relieving, in a way. It had been nice to have someone listen to you rant, even for a moment. Talking with Hoseok was a nice change from the stilted and repetitive conversations you had during your obligatory social run-ins with other housewives. 

Speaking of Hoseok, you didn’t need to open your eyes to know that he had probably gone back to finish his job, not knowing what to say without making it awkward or crossing boundaries. You didn’t have the heart to open your eyes and check. As long as your eyes were closed, it was easier to maintain the illusion of peace you had found momentary refuge in. 

The sound of quiet rustling made you crack open an eye. Surprise had you opening both. While you had been stuck in your inner musings, Hoseok had gotten up from where he had been sitting to plop down next to you. 

You didn’t dare move. Not only because the abrupt move had caught you off guard, but you were worried that if you tried to squirm away to give him more room, you’d topple off and hit the ground. The chaise lounge was too narrow to comfortably accommodate two people but somehow it worked. When he adjusted his sitting position, the material of his swim trunks brush your outer thighs. Hoseok was so close that you felt the heat radiating off his body.

He reached over, grabbing a bottle of tanning lotion you had set down next to a pile of magazines. As he looked up, he saw your wide eyes and hastened to explain, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look really stressed.”

No shit, you wanted to snark but he cut you off before you had the chance.

“You should let me,” Hoseok suggested while shaking the bottle in his hand. “I’m pretty good at working out knots. I don’t have a certificate or anything, but—my body gets really tense after dance class, and sometimes I don’t have the time or money to go to a salon. I’ve read books and watched a lot of YouTube videos, which, I can understand may not sound very convincing but trust me, I know what I’m doing.  Of course, doing it to yourself is fine, too, but it’s a lot more effective when someone else takes care of it.”

All you could do was stare. The bout of silence was enough to make him lose a bit of confidence, and he sent you a sheepish smile. 

“I mean, it’s up to you. I’m definitely not as good as the pros but I’m not terrible, either. Some even say my massages are better than orgasms.” The sudden grin he sported was so wide that you couldn’t tell if he was exaggerating or not. “I just figured… I can’t guarantee a 100% success rate but I’ll do this free of charge, so that’s something to consider. This is a limited time offer.”

“You know I’m not one to turn down freebies,” you said through a smile, not taking as long as you should have to consider his proposition. Maybe you should have thought harder about the implications but right now his offer seemed too good to pass up. A massage that was better than nutting? Sold. “Should I…?”

“Yeah, why don’t you roll around onto your stomach for me? I can start on your back,” Hoseok said while he uncapped the bottle and squirted a dollop of tanning lotion onto his palm. He rubbed his hands together, warming up the liquid, before pressing the pads of his fingers into the meat of your shoulders. 

“This okay?” he asked as he hovered above you. “It’s better when I use scented oils like lavender but this will have to do. I didn’t bring any of my usual stuff with me.”

“Mhmm.” His voice sounded far away already. “It’s good.”

His hands covered every inch of your skin, slow in their study. Slender digits alternated between rubbing circles and squeezing flesh. From time to time, flashes of pain spread across your back as he worked on your muscles. The soreness melted away just as quickly; Hoseok seemed to know just how much pressure to exert for you to go boneless in his grip.

Slowly, you felt yourself relax under his ministrations, your head drooping further into the cushion as he worked his magic on you. You had to bite your lip to prevent any embarrassing sounds from filtering out whenever his strong hands kneaded a particularly sore spot. It felt so good that you were convinced Hoseok had been a professional masseur in his past life. Not even the ladies at the spa you regularly frequented could get you to unwind this efficiently. If you could stay in this blissed out state forever, you would. 

You heard him saying something about what pressure point he was massaging but his voice came out muffled, as if a thick stone wall was separating the two of you. His words had been tuned out the moment his hands had drifted lower to work on the bottom of your spine. Nothing else mattered but the firm press of his fingers against your heated skin made easy thanks to the slickness of the tanning lotion. 

Slightly dazed, it took a moment to register that Hoseok was repeating your name in an attempt to grab your attention.

“Is it alright with you if I untie this?” His voice was warm and syrupy like molasses. You had the strangest desire to bathe in it.

You nodded your assent, breath hitching as you felt his long digits work on the knot of your bathing suit. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before finally pulling the strings apart.

The tension in the air was palpable. All pretense of a simple and friendly massage having been thrown out the window the moment he had asked to remove your clothes. After all, there had been no sound and logical reason to—it wasn’t as if the thin piece of fabric tied at your back had hindered his movements in any way or obstructed his work. 

Hoseok had asked for your permission to go further and you had given it to him without a second thought.

“Is this okay? Do you want me to stop?” He waited for your verbal confirmation to continue. His fingers had stilled, no longer working your skin like dough. On one hand you were thankful for him giving you ample time to back out, but on the other hand...

Now that you had been given a preview of what he was capable of doing, how did he expect you to turn him down? Maybe that had been his plan from the start—wind you up to your breaking point until you had no choice but to beg and plead. 

The top of your bikini slid off your body as you propped yourself up on your elbows. You had to crane your neck to throw him a look over your shoulder, your hair cascading down the arch of your back as you did so, but the slight discomfort was well worth it. 

The rough pads of Hoseok’s fingertips dug into the divots of your waist. To keep you still, maybe. But you could tell by the clench of his jaw that he was holding himself back. 

A sudden surge of power coursed through you. Speeding, top down on the highway and riding twisting rollercoasters...none of these came close to giving you the same high that surged through you when you were wanted, coveted, and lusted after. There was nothing more empowering than knowing your presence made men weak in the knees.

“It’s okay if it’s you, Hoseok.” You batted your lashes and let a slow smile spread across your face. 

It was an enticing invitation, one that Hoseok had no heart to refuse. He raised a tentative hand towards the scruff of your neck, letting his weight rest there as if testing the waters. When he saw that you weren’t going to retract your words or shy away from his touch, he let his palm drag down your bare back. 

There was no way that he didn’t notice the way goosebumps littered the skin he touched, the way you trembled with want. 

There was no reason to be nervous, you thought as his fingers danced on your skin. The words spoken to yourself weren’t intended to reassure—you were stating facts. Hoseok was safe and secure. You knew that if you wanted to put an end to everything right now, he’d do so without complaint.

As if reading your mind, he smiled in promise, “I’ll take good care of you. Why don’t you turn around. Let me see all of you.” He nudged you, fingers stopping short of your pale blue bikini bottoms. 

Hoseok tensed when you twisted around to lay comfortably on your back. Although he had been the one to suggest it, the sight of you topless momentarily robbed him of speech.  

“You’re so goddamn beautiful.” Awe colored his tone. His eyes mirrored the sentiment, wide with wonder.

He squeezed more lotion into the palm of his hands and wasted no time reaching for the dip of your waist. Warm hands slid up your sides, tickling your ribcage as they reached higher and higher. 

A shaky breath left your lips when he finally enclosed his hands around the globes of your breasts and gently squeezed. 

Desire lit a fire in the pit of your belly.

There was something undeniably sexy about having to face him while his hands freely roamed your body. When your head had been nestled in the crook of your arms, it had been easy to let your mind drift away. But your current position now made that impossible.

Hoseok’s presence was overwhelming. All you saw was him—the fiery depths of his eyes, the pretty slope of his nose, his fucking arms, and the way his long fingers were currently cupping your breasts, his thumbs rubbing the peaks insistently until they ached. The upward tug of his lips told you that he was well aware of how well he was affecting you.

“Good?” It was a rhetorical question. You were putty in his hands, as pliant and malleable as a ball of clay.

He readjusted himself between your legs and used his knees to keep your thighs spread open for him. A whine worked its way up your throat. Much to your frustration, his new position prevented you from rubbing your legs together and getting the friction you so desperately needed.

Your lower lips felt uncomfortably wet, and by the way Hoseok ran his tongue over his lips like a famished wolf in front of a long-awaited meal, you knew your arousal to be evident. By now the expensive piece of swimwear was surely stained with your juices.

Hoseok’s hands had wandered back down your body, digits now tracing your hipbones, while his gaze resolutely fixed the spot between your legs. For a reason unknown to you, he didn’t dare go any further than slip his thumbs beneath the material of your swimming suit.

Exasperation built up inside of you the longer the teasing went on. You didn’t know what he was waiting for. It was clear that he wanted it as badly as you did—if the tent in his swim shorts was any indication—so what was holding him back? How long were you going to keep staring at each other before the weakest died of blue balls?

So you did what any woman of action would have done and pulled at the strings holding up your bikini bottoms. Two quick, efficient tugs later and you were stark naked, bare as the day you were born.

Hoseok’s eyes bugged out. 

To your dismay, your forwardness failed to have the desired effect. Instead of urging him into action, all he did was freeze up.  In fact you feared that you had broken him—his mouth opened and closed once, twice, three times, but no sound came out.

“Do you need a hand written invitation?” At this point, you were running out of options. God, what did it take to get fucked around here? Like. Bless thee who invented dildos because without them you would have lost your mind a long time ago.

Finally he shook his head, hands reaching down to grip your thighs. His tongue poked out to lick his lips. “You’re something else...” 

“In a good or bad way?” you asked, the hitch in your breath audible. His hands hands had inched dangerously close to where you wanted him to touch the most.

His lips quirked into a grin. “I’ve never seen someone get this soaked over a small massage. You’re literally perfect.”

Words that should have embarrassed you were balanced out with praise. The mix of the two made your insides tighten. 

“Eager, too.” His grin widened. “That’s how I like them.”

Before you could quip back, he swiped his pointer finger through your slippery folds. The initial touch made your entire body jolt. It had been so long since someone had given you attention that your body ate everything up like it was starved. You couldn’t remember the last time a man had touched you properly, especially one that wasn’t your husband.

The thought of Yoongi only made your heart thump harder against your ribcage. You had no time to dwell on your feelings, however, not when Hoseok added a second digit to the mix. 

His brow was furrowed in concentration. Guys your age had the tendency to rush through their motions, fueled by the need to get off. Sometimes they even skipped foreplay entirely. Hoseok was not like other guys your age. He took his time running his digits through your slick lips, not caring about his own erection straining his shorts.

It didn’t take long for you to get impatient again. You had always had a problem with waiting and being patient—and the last month had seriously tested the limits of your self-restraint. 

Just when you were about to voice your frustration, Hoseok gathered your arousal until his fingers were thoroughly coated with your juices. He honed in on your aching clit with expert precision. Your thighs tensed as you tried your best to keep your hips still and your legs open. 

It didn’t take long for it to feel really good. Better than the expensive bullet vibrator that you had been using religiously for the last few weeks. You were 100% certain that you would have hurled prematurely to your end if Hoseok hadn’t eased up on the pressure, his touch now feather-light and teasing. The abrupt change in pace had you reeling.

You slumped back into the chaise lounge, the back of your head hitting the twined material with a dull plonk. Fate apparently wanted to deprive you of a good orgasm until the very end. That petty bitch.

Hoseok chuckled and you tried not to take offense. You’d like to see him last as long as you had. 

“You’re not relaxed at all.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” you deadpanned.

It was hard to keep the pout on your face when his fingers resumed their ministrations. Your knee jerked when he brushed over a particularly sensitive spot and you had to bite your tongue to keep any moans at bay.

“Ever heard of the saying ‘good things come to those who wait’?”

“I’ve been waiting plenty long!” 

“Is that so?” His tone turned sickly sweet, almost mocking. “Guess I have to reward your good behavior.”

Before you had time to second that thought, he thrust a finger up to the knuckle, the sudden intrusion catching you by surprise. It was like someone had punched the air out of you. Your mouth parted in a silent cry as his finger soon turned to two.

He kept up an easy rhythm, his fingers curving every so often to drag along your inner walls. Every single one of your nerves were on fire. 

Bit by bit, the constant and steady pressure made you unravel. Any control you had over yourself and the situation was slowly slipping through your grasp—but the loss didn’t bother you as much as it normally would have. 

“How does that feel? Shit.” He stifled a groan when he felt you clench around his fingers, no doubt imagining that it was his cock buried inside your warm pussy instead. “Shit, you’re so fucking hot.”

“You’re doing so good,” you panted between two breaths. “I’m, ah, going to cum soon.”

“Already?” he asked, equally surprised and pleased at the admission.

Your words fueled his desire to see you fall apart. His pace picked up, the force of his thrusts making your back arch every time he buried his fingers into your heat. The brush of his fingers against your velvety walls felt so good that you could have cried fat tears of gratitude. Hoseok reached so much deeper than you ever could, stroking places inside of you that you had a hard time reaching on your own.  

Hoseok must have a PhD in fingering, you thought, half-delirious from the amount of pleasure he was giving you.  It had taken him an extraordinarily short amount of time to find and zero in on all your erogenous zones. Just like how he had known which spots to press during the massage, he seemed to be eerily attuned to your body and its needs. Not that you were complaining—far from it actually.

All of your inner ramblings ceased when he squeezed in a third finger, stretching your walls to accommodate the extra digit. You expected it to burn—three fingers was nothing to scoff at, especially ones as long as his. What should have been an uncomfortable experience wasn’t thanks to how fucking wet he had made you. 

He drove his fingers in and out of you, alternating between swift and slow, rough and sweet. The wet squelches were obscene, so loud that you were convinced your neighbors could probably hear you if they tried hard enough.

Distantly, you realized what a shocking pair the two of you made. If your housemaid bothered to look out the window, she’d see you naked and getting fingered by someone who was most definitely not your husband. Now wouldn’t that be scandalous?

The mere thought of Yoongi brought you closer to the edge. Your eyes fell shut of their own accord, images of your husband replacing the ones of Hoseok. Lost in your favorite fantasy, it didn’t take long for you to reach your end. It never did when you started imagining your husband pleasuring you. 

With the memory of Yoongi’s smirk painting the dark of your eyelids, you came, walls contracting around Hoseok’s hand like it was trying to milk cock. Your back arched off the chaise, your entire frame trembling from the force of your overdue orgasm. Spots of white dotted your vision and you had to forcibly blink them away. Only then did you realize that the yells puncturing the air had belonged to you.

“So fucking pretty. How are you so fucking soft? Shit, this is way better than what I imagined.” 

“Think about me a lot?” you asked once your heart had calmed down to an acceptable rate.

You expected him to deny it but to your surprise his concession came easily. “Can’t help it.” He deliberately looked away from your look of wide-eyed curiosity. “You’re… Seriously, you could have anyone.” 

“I’m not sure about that.” You reached for the hand settled on your thigh. It was only when you interlaced fingers that he looked up at you.

There had been a time when you had felt invincible, capable of bewitching any individual of your choosing, no matter the status or experience. It seemed like a lifetime ago. 

But Hoseok spoke with such sincerity that you couldn’t help but eat up his praise. The way he touched you—stroking your body like he was handling an expensive piece of artwork, like you were valuable and untouchable—made you believe him. You wanted to be convinced. 

“I’ll show you, if you’ll let me.” He kept his gaze steady and you found it hard to look away from the intensity burning behind his stare. “Want to make you come on my tongue. Let me take care of you.”

You felt your muscles pull as you spread your legs wider, putting your glistening folds on crude display. Hoseok swallowed thickly and wasted no time diving in, one of his hands maneuvering your lower body until one of your legs hooked over his shoulder, giving him better access to your dripping core.

He leaned in, close enough for you to feel his breath warm your skin. It was the only warning you got before he darted his tongue out, the flat drag of the muscle making your toes curl. 

It was slow, sweet torture. As much as you wanted more, wanted to grind yourself on his face, Hoseok kept a sturdy arm braced over your stomach while the other wrapped tightly around your thigh. You had no other choice but to just take it the way he wanted to give it, completely at his mercy. 

The steady, insistent flicks of his tongue over your clit had you gushing, your hole clenching sporadically in hopes of getting filled up again. You pulled the silky strands of Hoseok’s hair in an attempt to get him to satiate your need for more—but to no avail.

Hoseok refused to speed up, even as he felt your thighs tremble under his hold. If anything, your frustration seemed to amuse him. He chuckled against your clit, the vibrations setting each and every one of your nerve endings on fire.

“Hhn, puh-” you sucked in air. “Shit, I’m so, so close.”

He hummed in encouragement, smile hidden between your folds. 

You knew you were cumming before it actually happened. It started slowly, your toes curling and knee jerking, and then worked its way up your spine. Stars blotted your vision until all you saw was white.

If he hadn’t kept you firmly pinned in place, arm muscles flexing as you resisted, you were sure you would have crushed Hoseok’s head between your thighs. Or accidentally kicked him in the shins. The force of your orgasm was a tangible force, one that knocked the wind out of you like a punch to the gut.

“So good.” He sucked his slender fingers until they came off clean.  

Sitting there between your legs, he looked like the picture perfect definition of debauchery—red lips and chin glistening from your juices, face splotchy in the cheeks,hair mussed up and knotted by your hands.

His eyes didn’t leave yours for a second, even as he licked the last traces of you off his hand. Your core throbbed. There was something undeniably arousing about a man who genuinely enjoyed giving head, who did it because he wanted to and got off on it, not because he felt obligated to or because he wanted something else in exchange. 

“You’re so fucking sweet.” He glanced down and groaned. “I’m so hard, fuck.”

“Do you want me t—”

“No, no, just. Give me a moment.” He palmed himself through his swim trunks but kept his gaze fixed between your legs, his attention unwavering. “I’ve made such a mess of you... Look at your thighs, they’re soaked. And that stain’s going to be impossible to clean off. What are you going to do if someone asks you what happened? It’s way too big to miss.”  

You spread your thighs a bit more, intrigued by the way his hand seemed to press down harder at the visual provided. “What do you want me to tell them? I can’t possibly tell them the truth... If any of the housewives found out how good you are with your hands, they’ll end up stealing you from right under my nose.”

“I don’t care about them,” he dismissed seriously. “Why would I when the sweetest pussy is right here, all swollen and dripping for me.”

Your cum was still slowly trickling out of you. Upon hearing his words, your core clenched and the contraction made a fresh gush of opaque fluid drip down between the crevice of your ass. You resisted the urge to wipe yourself off, knew that the slight discomfort was well worth it if it meant witnessing Hoseok’s unraveling.    

Hoseok was so enraptured by the sight in front of him that he was probably unaware of how deathly attractive he looked at the moment. It wasn’t a trick of the light or an ephemeral thought. Hoseok had always been handsome in your eyes but there was a distinct difference between when he was working and when he was set on giving you the high of your life. You had never been subjected to the brunt of his charisma, but now that you had, you could tell how much control he had over himself. Even now, his sexual energy was focused and restrained. 

His eyesight had zeroed in on your pussy like a hawk sweeping in for its kill. His toned chest rose and fell, drawing attention to the sheen of perspiration lining his muscles. 

“Hoseok.” The neediness in your voice broke him out of his trance. 

When his eyes met yours, you felt your core clench up again. The sight of him shirtless, his lean muscles tensing every time his palm rubbed over the head of his erection through the material of his trunks, was enough to get you aroused all over again despite your recent orgasm. 

“Please cum on me,” you asked sweetly.

He groaned in response, the sound low and guttural in his throat. 

You hadn’t thought it possible, but his eyes darkened, black pupils swallowing up the brown of his irises until there was nothing left but raw arousal. 

“Yeah? You’d let me?” He shifted onto his haunches and hastily tugged down his shorts low enough to relieve his aching member from the confines of the fabric. His red cock stood stiff, the tip leaking pearly precum everywhere.  

A pleased smile stretched across your face. By the looks of it, he had been hard for a while.

The thought made something in your stomach curl pleasantly. You had done that, not anyone else. That alone was enough to spread heat throughout your body.

“I want you to cum all over me.”

“Fuck, when you talk like that I want to give you everything.” Hoseok held up a hand to your mouth and ordered in a gruff voice, “Spit.”

Doing as he commanded, you gathered as much saliva as you could and let it pool into his cupped palm. He muttered quick praise and wasted no time slicking up his length with your spit—not that it was needed.

It didn’t take long for him to cum.

“Where do you want it?” he asked between gritted teeth. Not once did his pace falter or slow down as he raced toward his end.

“Right here.” You didn’t need to think twice about it, your hand already reaching between your legs to open yourself up for him.

He growled as cum painted your inner thighs white. His hand stroked him through his orgasm, not stopping until he was certain he had nothing left to give you.  

When Hoseok hunched forward to slot his mouth over yours, lips tasting of you, there was no mistaking the victorious smile adorning your face.

 .

{FRIDAY. 10.21 am}

.

Something in the air had changed.

It felt like the world had tilted on its axis and the stars had realigned themselves in the sky. It was like getting your contact lens prescription strengthened—the world just looked different.

Your midday tryst with Hoseok had been the catalyst behind it all.

The reverence illuminating Hoseok’s eyes as he watched you come apart was still fresh on your mind. It filled you with bubbly giddiness. And that feeling—that swarming of butterflies in your stomach—was undoubtedly an improvement from the paralyzing numbness you had grown accustomed to over the last few months.

For the first time in a while, you had been able to sleep soundly. The results of a good night’s sleep were perceptible to the naked eye. Your skin was dewy and radiant, clear of the usual imperfections brought on by anxiety and exhaustion.

“You look well this morning,” had complimented June as she filled your empty glass with freshly pressed orange juice. You had hummed around a bite of gluten free toast, pleased with yourself.

Your good mood lasted all throughout the morning. It was Wednesday, you realized.

There was a bounce in your step when you realized what day it was and who you’d inevitably be seeing. Even though it hadn’t been that long, time tricked you into believing eons had passed since your last encounter. So much seemed to have changed since then.

You didn’t feel like the same person, for one. There was no more awkward fumbling or nervous lip biting, no sudden urge to cover your scantily exposed body with a bathing gown. 

The confident stride towards the pool’s edge felt less like an act. When you sat down at the ledge, dipping your ankles into the lukewarm water, you didn’t feel like some kind of fraud. You were no longer trying to emulate the person you had once been—you were that person. It had just taken a while to find her again.

Jimin rose to his feet. He had been changing the water filter before your arrival had made him halt mid-activity. 

For now you didn’t pay him any mind. You stretched your neck to the side, soaking up the summer sun. You were sure that you would have painted a much more seductive picture if your ass didn’t feel like it was on fire. Literally.

The stony edge of the pool was too hot, bordering on burning. You wriggled around, hoping you’d eventually adjust to the heat but in the end couldn’t handle it.

You slid in, water splashing around you as you submerged yourself. The water barely came up to your chest, which was probably for the best because your makeup wasn’t waterproof. And runny mascara? Not your best look.

When you looked up, Jimin’s unimpressed stare met you head on.

And, granted, choosing to go for a swim while he was cleaning the pool was not the smartest or most logical feat.

You weren’t here to swim, though. And Jimin knew it, too.

Jimin didn’t shy away from your gaze. On the contrary—he seemed to enjoy the scrutiny, preening. Your shameless admiration did nothing but stroke his already well inflated ego. 

He raised his brow in your direction, half-expecting you to run away again. It felt like a challenge—one you were more than happy to take on. 

In truth, you had been waiting for this opportunity. 

Jimin didn’t disappoint. With a splash, he dived in and swam to your section. He stopped just short of you, close enough to clearly see the water trickling down his body in rivulets. 

“Is this a hobby of yours?”

“Hm? What is?” He flicked his wet bangs to the side.

“Seducing married women.”

The smile he wore told you that he found your question amusing. “...Have I seduced you?”

His remark wasn’t enough to deter you. By now, you had gotten used to his teasing and it was getting easier to ignore his attempts at winding you up.

“Why do you do it? I’m sure you could have any young and pretty thing lining up to date you.” You genuinely wanted to know. Ever since you had met him and he had made his intentions clear as day, you had wondered why he’d ever bother chasing married women. What did he expect from it? Love? Money? Was this just something to pass the time? Or was this a way to prove his sexual prowess and attractiveness?

Life had taught you that nothing in the world came for free. There was always a price to be paid. Jimin seemed to have that lesson ingrained in him as well. It was in the way he carried himself with confidence, the way he knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it.

In many ways, Jimin reminded you of yourself—or the self that had existed before your insecurities had made your outer layer crumble.

“You’re right,” he agreed. “But I’m not interested in dating any pretty, young thing. To be frank… Dating holds no interest for me. I’m not that kind of guy.”

“You’re just looking to wet your dick,” you translated. 

“If I wanted to ‘wet my dick’,” he quoted with a roll of his eyes, “I could get that on campus. It’s not that hard to get laid when you look like I do.”

“Maybe you have a preference for cougars?”

“I’m serious. You of all people must know that relationships are about giving and taking. Compromise. I know what I can offer and what I’m willing to give up and none of those things people want.”    

The honesty in his voice made you pause. You couldn’t claim to understand what he meant—because you didn’t. If he didn’t want sex and if he didn’t want a relationship, what did that leave? If it hadn’t been for the truth coloring his tone, you would have called him out for his bullshit.

“Seduce… I guess you could call it that... But it’s not as bad as you probably think it is.” His plush lips pressed into a thin line. “There’s no trickery to it. Every single person I get involved with knows what they’re getting into. I tell them what I’m willing to offer and they name their price. It’s a fair exchange, don’t you think?”

It took a moment for his words to sink in. You blinked in realization. “You’re saying you’re in this for the money?”

Jimin was quick to correct you. “It’s not always money. Apparently they think it’s crass to give cold hard cash, they think it diminishes my worth or something along those lines.” He smiled and shrugged. Your eyes strayed to the curve of his collarbones. “Personally I don’t mind either way. Gifts are gifts.”

Looking at him now, you could picture it. He was young and attractive, willing to entertain bored and unsatisfied housewives while their negligent husbands failed to keep them happy. You could see why they’d be enthusiastic to take him up on the offer—Park Jimin was charming in a way that made you hang onto his every word. It was the way he carried himself, the way he talked, the way he looked at you. He was hard to resist and he knew it.

“Sometimes it’s not even sexual,” he went on to explain. “I think… Some of them… They just seemed... Not sad. But, like. Lonely, you know? And some of them… Sometimes I don’t really do anything, nothing that crosses lines, nothing that would get my dick chopped off if their husband watched the CCTV footage. Really, what I do is not as salacious as you’re imagining… Most of it is quite tame.”

“Tame?” Jimin didn’t fit the definition of tame by a long shot. Your eyebrows scrunched up together, skepticism etched deeply onto your expression.

“Well. I’m hot,” Jimin stated, serious. “So that already takes care of half of it.”

You laughed, silently wondering how it was possible for a person to be so shameless. Although you supposed you weren’t one to talk. You were as vain as they came. It was just shocking to see someone not even try to fake modesty. The near perpetual smirk on his face would be insufferable on anyone else, but Jimin made it work in his favor.

“I don’t do anything special. Well, okay. Maybe I make a show out of cleaning the pool, but that’s about it.” 

He glanced down at his choice of swimwear and you eventually caught on to what was insinuated. Much like the ones he had on during your last encounter, his swimwear seemed to be a size too small for him, hugging his thick thighs and putting his impressive muscles on display. Even the chastest person on the planet would have difficulty abstaining from ogling his build. Thirsty housewives wouldn’t stand a chance.

A half-naked, attractive man doing manual work? “I can see what you mean,” you agreed. “I don’t doubt your popularity among the married crowd.”

“Oh?” He tilted his chin so that he could stare at you through wet lashes. The water droplets gave the illusion that his eyes were framed by minuscule crystals. When he blinked, you couldn’t look away, spellbound. “Are you including yourself?”

Something in your expression made the shade of his irises burn to black, the heat in his eyes as smothering as burning hot coals. Your already unstable heart found it hard to function. It knocked loudly against your chest and you were afraid it would burst from the force of it.

As a last ditch effort to regain control of the situation, you hurriedly asked, “Do you have anything off limits? Or are you okay with doing anything?”

The string of questions broke the oppressing sexual tension that had threatened to consume you. His alluring expression shifted back to a neutral one.

“Depends on the person,” he answered after thinking it over, serious once again. “I can’t fake arousal. I’m either hard or I’m not, you know?” 

“You’ve had sex with some of them before though, have you?”

“Yeah.” It was an easy admission. Jimin wasn’t boasting but he wasn’t ashamed of his past deeds either. “Not often and never off the bat, but yes. Can’t say that I haven’t.”

“Inside or outside the house?”

“Once inside the gardening shed, against the door. Wouldn’t recommend unless you fancy a trip to the hospital to remove all the splinters on your back. I’ve also done it in the bed they shared with their husband. That was...something.” The way he said it made it sound like the understatement of the century. 

Before you could press, he continued, “Sex isn’t really something I’m up for all the time though. I’ve learned the hard way that it’s easy to let things get out of control...” A grimace, a pause, and then, “It’s easy for people to get confused. Feelings can develop and that’s... I’d rather avoid those complications if I can. There’s nothing fun about making women cry.”

It sounded like a warning.

You wondered how many times he had to reiterate his stance, how many times he had to draw lines and keep them clear to avoid breaking hearts. You wondered how much of his story was laced with truth and how much of it was twisted to deceive you.

How many before you had been presented with the same backstory? How many of them had let themselves be tempted by his proposition? It seemed like a good deal, after all. Who would be willing to refuse such a irresistible offer? You could only imagine how excited they had been at the prospect of having their appetite sated by such a young and handsome man.

You had never been under the illusion that your liaison would evolve into a whirlwind romance worthy of the greatest love songs. Unlike the countless others who had eagerly emptied out their purses just to get a taste of him, you had no plans on taming his wild heart. His love, his feelings—they weren’t what you were after. 

“What’s something you’ve never done before?” you dared to ask, angling your head to peer up at him through your lashes. It was a good angle, one you knew from experience that worked.

“Never done? Well, let’s see...” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve never kissed any of them. Properly, on the mouth.”

Your brow raised. You hadn’t expected that answer. Kissing did seem tame in comparison to the exploits he had previously listed. “How come?” 

“It gets too personal, I guess.” Jimin refrained from elaborating any further. Not that he needed to—you could tell from the way he skirted around the question that kissing meant more to him than he would rather let on.  

Immediately, you knew what you wanted. 

“You said that you’d give me anything I ask for.”

Jimin wasn’t dumb; he quickly caught on.

“You want me to kiss you.” He tilted his head, a strange glint in his eyes. They flickered down to your mouth for the briefest of moments.

Your heart raced. A wary expression had crossed his face. Like he was finally seeing you differently—not as another conquest who would eat out of his hand and bend over backwards just to spend some time by his side, but acknowledging you as an equal who set her own terms and played by her own rules. A player, not a pawn.

Soon, the cautious attitude was replaced with excitement. Like the idea of playing a new game excited him.

"And what do I get in return?"

You blinked. Of course. It had been silly of you to think he'd give it up for free.

"What do you want?" You hadn't thought very far and your mind raced as it tried to find a suitable method of compensation. Expensive wristwatches, art work...

"I don't want anything you'd be willing to give anyone else." Jimin cut in, interrupting your inner musings. "I want something you'd only be willing to give your husband."

How very specific.

"I don't..." you trailed off, lost in thought. There was no time to question the nature of his request, not when your mind was caught up trying to find something, anything, that fit his criteria.

"I'll blow you."

You wet your lips. It was meant to be seductive but you were too nervous to properly pull it off.

Jimin raised a brow in response. It was impossible to tell if the answer was favorable or not, so you rambled on. "I've never... Since we started dating, the only... I've only been intimate with my husband.”

Until recently, was left unsaid. You weren’t sure if Hoseok counted. Maybe you should rephrase to avoid misunderstandings.

“I’ve never had... I’ve never sucked anyone else off.” There. Now you weren’t lying. “Even before Yoongi and I dated, I never did it that much. Not because—not because I don't enjoy it, but. I've always been more on the receiving end."

"You're a selfish lover," concluded Jimin, nodding in understanding like he hadn’t expected anything less.

You frowned. "I get that it sounds that way, but it's not! Sex doesn’t boil down to oral."

"Oh, I know," he smirked, amusement dancing in his eyes. "I'm intrigued... But who’s to say your oral skills will live up to my standards?"

"As far as I know, no one's left you a 5 star rating for your kissing skills." Huffing, you crossed your arms. In the back of your mind, you knew Jimin was poking fun at you in order to elicit a reaction, but you were too offended to care about how you were playing into his games.

A kiss for a blowjob? If you hadn’t been desperate for the latter, you would have denounced the unfair exchange.

Jimin leaned in, his fingers tilting your chin in the angle he wanted, and studied your face like he was committing your features to memory. He drank in your appearance, down to the flutter of your lashes, the parting of your lips, and the hitch in your breath when he bent his neck to close the distance.

There was something careful about his touch. Unlike the searing intensity behind his gaze, the press of his fingertips against your skin was careful, almost like he was handling glassware. Time seemed to move extremely slowly. He took his time, seemingly content with just cupping your chin between his fingers and admiring you.

For a moment, you thought he'd back out on his offer, not willing to part with the one thing he'd denied the string of conquests who had previously been in your shoes.

When Jimin pressed his lips against yours, you had to fight back the urge to gasp. His earlier demeanor had lulled you into a false sense of security. You had expected him to take his time, kisses gentle and slow-paced. 

There was nothing of the sort—Jimin's kisses were hungry, insistent, and stole the breath out of your lungs with every press of his lips against your own. 

Whenever he let up, you took the opportunity to gasp in a mouthful of air. The lack of oxygen was making your head spin, you vision blurring at the edges. You were slipping down a very slippery slope. The longer his mouth moved against yours, the quicker you felt all reason and sanity abandon you.

Jimin’s control never wavered. There were times when you tried to dictate the pace but he'd pinch your chin to keep you still.

A moan worked its way up your throat when he gave a particular hard suck to your bottom lip. Not knowing what to do with yourself, body overheating with lust, your fingernails dug into his shoulders in a last-ditch bid to ground yourself back to reality. Jimin growled in response, one of his hands tangling itself in your hair to tug at the strands. You stilled immediately, the show of dominance enough to make your body go limp in his hold.

When his tongue finally met yours, licking into your open mouth with fervor, it  wiped your brain clean of all coherency, your mind now blissfully blank. There was only Jimin, only his heat melting against your own, only his scent enveloping you like a warm cocoon you never wanted to break out of. Eventually, though, he had to pull back for air and you almost whined in protest. 

After all, who needed air? What use was breathing when you could be spending that time kissing him instead?

It took a while for the heavy fog to lift. When it did you noted that you were still slightly out of breath, your heartbeat erratic and deafening. Under any normal circumstances, you'd be embarrassed by how effortlessly he had turned your insides to gush.

You struggled to keep your eyes open as you craned your neck to look at him properly. You had no time to feel self-conscious, however. Jimin's erotic appearance was much more interesting. 

His lips were swollen a dark pink hue that perfectly complimented the flush high on his cheeks. It was a pretty sight, but nothing comapred to the deep pools of lust that stared back at you. Jimin looked like he could swallow you whole with his stare alone.

Your entire body trembled at the prospect of him carrying out the silent promise. In fear or anticipation—you did not know yet. You had barely survived his kiss. What were you going to do if he had his way with you? Now you understood why Jimin kept himself at an arm's reach from all of his suitors. His touch was lethal, designed and weaponized to make his unsuspecting victims fall deep into trance. Once you got involved with him, there was no coming back out of it the same. He was like a ruthless drug. One hit and that was all it took for your body to become hooked to the feeling. If you had any more, you'd stay addicted for the rest of your life, whether you wanted to or not.

Jimin was dangerous. Even in your prime, you had never been this powerful. The worst part was that he knew it. He wielded his charm with expertise, knew exactly how much to give to make you weak at the knees. You had only had a taste of him and yet your body thrummed with a burning need for more.

Thankfully, his needs mirrored yours. You didn’t have to wait long for him to hoist himself onto the ledge of the pool, the lean muscles of his arms flexing as he dragged his body out of the water with the grace of a panther. In the blink of an eye he had shucked off his sodden swim trunks and placed the wet material under him as a cushion. 

You gulped, feeling almost bashful. It was...a lot to take in. It felt almost wrong to ogle at him now that he was stark naked.  

Unaware of your embarrassment, Jimin puffed out his chest, shameless as ever. With a smirk plastered on his face, he patted his thick thigh and nodded in your direction.

“C’mre.” He spread his knees, cock hanging heavy between his thighs. “Time to be a good host and return the favor.”

You waddled closer before your brain could talk you out of it, mesmerized by the sight in front of you.

Jimin’s dick was—for lack of better terms—pretty. He was thick, not too long or too veiny, and pink at the head. He kept his pubic hair neatly trimmed, the dark patch standing out against golden skin.   

Weeks ago you would have never thought twice about sucking off a man who wasn’t Yoongi. Yet here you were, mouth watering at the prospect of Jimin filling up your mouth. 

You had Yoongi to thank for that. 

For the briefest moment, you let yourself imagine the look on Yoongi’s face if he walked in on you right now. Even if you had an idea, it was hard to predict what his reaction would be...

Jimin’s croon yanked you back to reality. “Let me see what you can do. No hands, sweetheart. Show me what you got.”

The look aimed your way was full of expectation. 

Not one to disappoint, your lips automatically stretched around his girth. You suckled the tip and sighed in contentment as he slowly plumped up against the flat of your tongue

God, you had missed sucking dick. You hadn’t been lying earlier when you had confessed how much you enjoyed it. There was something exhilarating about making a man go putty in your hands—or mouth. No matter how much they thought they had control over the situation, the reality was that you had them by their cock. 

Drool pooled in your mouth, spilling at the corners, but Jimin didn’t seem to mind the mess. If anything, the visual made him impossibly harder. He hummed low in his throat as his heavy erection throbbed on your tongue, and ran a hand over your face to feel the sizable bulge poking your cheek.  

“You look so gorgeous like this, stuffed full from my cock.” He grinned down at you with all the self-satisfaction of someone getting his dick sucked. “Really fucking pretty.”

One of his thumbs traced patterns over your cheekbones and you felt your face warm. The action was almost...sweet. And it most definitely felt out of place in this context.

The tender moment was broken the instant his length hit the back of your throat. You gagged, the choked sound loud enough to drown out his deep groan of appreciation. 

It was with great reluctance that he let you pull back to catch your breath. You coughed, slightly embarrassed that you were so out of form.

He reached out to break the thin string of saliva connecting your swollen lips to his weeping cock. He smoothed his coated fingers over your lips, smearing the excess saliva and his precum all over your mouth and cheeks with the focus of a painter hard at work.

The sight made his lower belly sing with satisfaction. And still, he wanted more.

Jimin took a minute to appreciate your less than perfect appearance. He was so used to seeing you with perfectly applied lipstick and coiffed hair, that seeing you so disheveled made something in his stomach kick. His thoughts ran wild. He was hit with a primal desire to ruin you, mark you up and leave the imprint of his dick in your throat so you’d remember him long after this was over.

“Wanna see you choke yourself on my cock,” he grunted, his member twitching at the thought. “Think you can do that for me?” 

Instead of a verbal reply, you leaned it to plant a kiss on the flushed head of his erection, kissing down his hard length until your mouth reached the base of it. When you looked up, his gaze was darker than the night skies. 

A shudder ran through your body, from the crown of your head all the way down to the tips of your toes.  He never broke his gaze, the weight of it pressing down on you like a security blanket.

When you took one of his balls into your mouth, wet and messy just like you suspected he liked it, his hands shot up to rake through your hair. They pulled at the strands but not hard enough to stop you. Conflict warred on his face, unsure if he wanted you stop or not.

“You’re fucking nasty,” he rasped when you gave a particular hard suck, your cheeks hollowing around his sack. “I love it. Who would’ve fucking thought that I’d land such a good slut?”

Your moan was muffled, slightly distorted, but he heard it all the same. His eyes curved into crescents. “You like that, huh?”

He abandoned the grip he had on your hair in order to enclose his fingers around his length instead.

“Show me your tongue. Yeah, like that.” He bit down on his bottom lip when you flawlessly executed his command. Jimin kept you like that for a while, your tongue hanging out and waiting on him like an obedient dog. He seemed in no hurry to get the show on the road, content with observing while he fisted his cock in lazy strokes. It was humiliating but your core had never felt this on fire.

Saliva pooled in your mouth and threatened to overflow. Just when it started to trickle down the sides of your open mouth, Jimin fed you his meaty cock as a reward.

“Now show me what a good slut is capable of.”

It was all the motivation you needed to take him as deep as your throat allowed. Your throat, unaccustomed to the stretch and burn, had difficulty adjusting. Patiently, Jimin let you to take all the time you needed. Determined to perform well, you worked on his cock until he was all you could taste and smell. 

Jimin was a lot more vocal than what you had imagined. It was a pleasant surprise. Guys usually held back - refused to give up that semblance of control - but Jimin’s ego was far from fragile. Whenever you swallowed he sucked in a quick breath of air, and when the muscles in your throat clamped down around his length he hissed out deep groans, their low timbre sending shivers down your back.

You paid close attention to his reactions and cataloged them. And that feeling - of having to learn someone’s ticks - was one that you hadn’t felt in a long, long time. 

Maybe if the circumstances had permitted it, you would have explored that feeling, questioned what it meant and why you enjoyed it. As it was, you were valiantly trying not to make unattractive whale sounds every time Jimin’s fat cock jabbed the back of your throat.

It seemed like ages before your throat finally relaxed enough to take him all the way down to the hilt. Jimin kept a firm hand on top of your head, not exerting enough pressure to lock you in place, but the implication was there. 

“Fuck.” His balls ached, feeling like they were about to burst. The closer he approached climax, the more his tongue ran loose. “You take it so good, make me feel so fucking good. Choke on my fat cock—just like that. A little longer, c’mon, I know you can take it. Good girl. God, you’re so—oh fuck!”

The muscles in the back of your throat had closed up and you gagged from lack of air. Eyes glassy from unshed tears, you struggled to not clamp down your teeth on his dick as your body was pushed to its limits. Only Jimin’s moans of ecstasy kept you from pulling back too soon—that and the deathly tight grip in your hair.

“Your mouth should be illegal.” Mercifully he let you catch your breath. The respite was brief. Your lungs burned but you had no time to do anything about it before he used the grip in your hair to slam you back down his length. 

If you had been able to set the pace before, there was no possibility of that now. Jimin used your mouth like he was paying for it, his rhythm fast-paced and erratic. The rough treatment should have provoked objection and a litany of protests but to your shame and surprise, there was not a fiber in your body that wanted to stop.

You knew that Jimin was nearing his end long before he announced it. He tried to keep the shakiness out of his voice, but there was no hiding the signs of his impending orgasm.

Jimin hissed out a few last obscenities, his tongue stumbling to get out the words as his entire body tensed up like a volcano about to erupt. “Better swallow it all, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want to dirty the pool I worked so hard to clean, now would you? That wouldn’t be very nice…”

You sucked harder in reply, your tongue pressed up against a sensitive vein near the head of his dick. The hold on your hair tightened and he groaned in ecstasy, pleasure wracking his entire frame. “’Atta girl. You’re gonna take me right down your throat. Gonna show me how well you take it? Prove to me that you’re a good girl ‘til the end, hnn?”

Bitterness coated your tongue before he could finish formulating his question. It flooded your mouth in thick spurts.

Yoongi had always claimed that your greed was boundless when it came to cum. You were only proving his words to be true by swallowing everything down in large gulps. It was a bit on the depraved side—you knew some of your friends wouldn’t swallow semen even if they got paid millions for it—but you loved it. You sucked him down until you were certain that he had nothing left to give you.

“So fucking greedy.” Jimin huffed out a laugh and eased you off when the stimulation became too painful to bear. “Knew the moment I met you that you were just gagging for a taste. Look at you… Don’t even need to tell you to clean me off.”

Now that you were no longer caught up in the moment, it was easier to think straight. Arousal still pulsed between your legs but it had been dulled, no longer screaming for attention. 

“My husband taught me well.”

Jimin raised a brow, mouth splitting into a grin. “Maybe I should thank him.”

“That would be the polite thing to do.” Would it? What protocol should be followed after face-fucking your boss’s wife? “Though I think Yoongi should be the one thanking you.”

“Hmm.” Jimin chose not to question. Less questions, meant less involvement and he hadn’t been lying when he had said that he liked to keep his distance. Even without the questions, Jimin was perceptive enough to pick up on the unsaid. The look on your face told him everything he needed to know. “You like him a lot, that elusive husband of yours.”

“Would I be here if I didn’t?” you said, making him pause.

For once, Jimin found himself at a loss for words.

There was something disconcerting about your smirk that had his stomach twisting in knots. It was not the look he expected to see. Instead of the residual yearning and disappointment, there was nothing but satisfaction written on your face. It bothered him for a reason he could not quite grasp.

Without really knowing how or why, Jimin's instincts told him that he had been played at his own game.

.

.

{MONDAY. 10.32 am}

.

“It’s today, isn’t?” 

You kept the phone pressed close to your ear by raising your shoulder into an exaggerated shrug. Your hands were otherwise occupied, one of them taking out a hair roller, the other applying a deep red color onto the soft pillow of your lips.

It was hard work—one wrong move would stain the skin around your mouth. On any other day, you wouldn’t dare rush, but today there was no time to erase and reapply. You were on a tight schedule. Luckily for you, you had the art of multitasking down to a T.

On the other side of the line, Bogum replied to your inquiry. You hummed in a distracted manner, too busy observing your reflection for any imperfections.

Satisfied with your handwork, you smacked your lips together. Red was the perfect choice. Femme fatales like Marilyn and Brigitte would be proud.

“He left so early this morning I wasn’t even able to wish him luck. Do you happen to know when he’ll be done? He won’t be home before... Ah - I see. Okay, yes, of course I will. No, that’ll be all, thank you Mr. Park. I will, thank you. Have a nice day.” 

After casting one last pleased once-over at your reflection in the vanity mirror, you made your way to the conservatory with all the smugness of someone who knew that they were in for the fuck of their life.

And there was no better candidate for the job than Kim Seokjin. 

Equipped with model-like proportions and a face that belonged on the silver screen, he was the epitome of beauty. Renaissance artists would have begged on their knees to replicate his good looks on canvas. You knew, however, just by looking at his perfectly symmetrical features, that someone as physically perfect as Kim Seokjin was incapable of being duplicated. Renowned and prestigious painters would have struggled to capture the aura he radiated, their painted renditions crude imitations of the real thing.

His presence alone inspired adulation. With that kind of face, it was probably common occurrence that throngs of women - and men - threw themselves reverently at his feet like he was a god and the world was his temple.

In other words—Seokjin was unworldly beautiful. 

...And he also had the ego to match it. 

In that aspect, he reminded you of Jimin. They were both individuals who would never settle for sub-par fucks, even if their lives depended on it. 

Seokjin was well aware of his worth and he probably thought himself deserving of the best. Unlike Jimin, he had no interest in playing games. You knew that with him, there would be no give and take, no push and pull, no ploys of seduction. If he liked what he saw enough, he’d bite. If he didn’t, he’d turn up his nose and move on to the next best thing.

Maybe the past few days had gone to your head, filling you with undeserved confidence, but you were convinced that he wouldn’t turn you down. Not when you had on your fuck-me-heels and a dress you knew for a fact made your ass look fantastic.

You looked fucking good. In the past an outfit like this would have been sufficient incentive for Yoongi to bend you over the nearest piece of furniture and fuck you silly until your legs turned to jello and you forgot what day of the month it was.

If it had once worked on Yoongi – the toughest stone to crack – then Seokjin would most likely break as easily. As monumental as his ego was, Seokjin wasn’t an impenetrable fortress.

Still…you had expected a bit more resistance than the reality you were met with. When you had asked him whether he’d fancy taking a break, your tone unmistakably suggestive, Seokjin had proceeded to ditch the protective gloves and cleaning equipment, not needing to be asked twice, and had promptly followed you into the house with the enthusiasm of a puppy promised a treat.

As soon as you had crossed the threshold, he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off of you. Large hands groped whatever handfuls of flesh they were able to reach, zealous in their exploration. You giggled at his blatant impatience. All of your assumptions were proved right—Seokjin was undoubtedly accustomed to getting whatever he wanted, when he wanted. He took without hesitation, his movements bold and unabashed.

You had to physically pull him down the hallway in order to get him to move. If he had his way, he would have probably taken you right there against the wall, too impatient to bother with the removal of clothes.

“In here?” he gawked, his eyes darting around the room in alarm. “You want to fuck on your husband’s bed.”

You huffed out an amused breath. “It’s my bed, too. Where did you expect me to bring you, the rooftop?” 

Seokjin paused, considering. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed around an invisible knot of nerves.

In the background, only the quiet whir of a ceiling fan could be heard. If you listened hard enough, you’d probably be able to hear the conflicting thoughts warring through his mind.

Inwardly, you rolled your eyes. What kind of skewered sense of moral righteousness was this? He was fine fucking his boss’s wife but not in his bed?

Seokjin didn’t take too long to arrive at the same conclusion.

“Alright,” he said, mind made up. Any trace of hesitation had been erased from his eyes, replaced only by fiery resolve. “Let’s get it.”

“I—” you opened your mouth and then closed it. 

You had forgotten what it was like to fuck around with fratboys. It brought you back to a time when the only available guys around you were as vapid as they were handsome. It came without saying that hooking up with the star players on the football team had come with its perks—like their short refractory periods and unbeatable stamina. But all in all, the list of cons had outweighed the pros, and you had come to the conclusion that fifteen minutes of sex with a hot guy wasn’t worth the pain of being bored out of your mind.  

Meeting Yoongi had been a breath of much needed fresh air. You still recalled the elation and excitement of meeting someone so sophisticated and worldly. College kids couldn’t hold a candle to him.

Seokjin bent down and kissed you. 

You had been so engrossed in your thoughts that the feeling of his lips against your own did not register at first. But Seokjin was insistent and refused to be ignored. He worked his mouth against yours, tongue hot and probing the seam of your mouth.

Instinctively, you gave in to his advances, your body responding before your brain had the chance to catch up. His plush lips were soft and tasted slightly of coconut. Most importantly, they were experienced in the art of kissing. Seokjin kissed you fervently, tongue swiping against yours, determined to elicit as many moans as he could from you.

“That’s better,” he said between two pants. “I want you like this.”

You hummed, slightly dazed. “Like what?”

In lieu of an answer, Seokjin cupped your cheek and angled your head to the side so that he could kiss you deeper.

You had no opportunity to demand a verbal reply—not when his mouth kept you otherwise occupied. As the seconds stretched on, you felt yourself go weak in the knees. If it wasn’t for the firm hold he had around your waist, bracing you against his concrete-hard chest, you were certain you’d have already crumpled into an inelegant heap on the floor.

Hours or minutes could have elapsed—you had no clue. It was only when Seokjin pulled up for air that time seemed to regain its true course. You blinked away the spots dotting your vision, the world slowly coming back into focus.

“Yeah, like this,” Seokjin smiled down at you, pleased with what he saw. “I want you like this—thinking only of me, no one else. I’m the only one you’ll ever think of after this, won’t I?”

You cleared your throat, not trusting your voice. Seokjin raised an eyebrow like he expected an answer and you obliged, albeit a bit wobbly. “I’m not sure that’ll be enough to get me to remember you.”

Seokjin laughed. You could feel it rumble in his chest, so loud was his amusement. “You only say that because you haven’t been with a man like me. Once I give it to you, you’ll never think about another cock again.”

You tilted your head as if unconvinced. You had heard variants of the same promise over the years and had learned not to hold anyone to their word.

“What do you need?” Seokjin cajoled. “Tell me what you need from me and I’ll give it to you, babygirl.”

“I need a cock in me.” The ache between your legs was becoming unbearable.  

He exhaled sharply, not expecting you to be so blunt. “Fuck, okay.”

One of his hands reached down for the silver buckle of his belt but the nervous buzz thrumming through his body made him clumsy. After a few seconds of fumbling with the button of his jeans, you joined in to help. His impatience seemed to have rubbed off on you because you found that you had no use for unnecessary prolongations. As crude as the thought was, you needed to be fucked. Preferably sooner than later.

“Shit.” His jaw clenched just as your hand squeezed around his length. 

“You’re so big, what the fuck.” You palmed his girth once again, just to confirm your initial assessment. And—yep. He was fucking packing. 

So he really had hit the genetic jackpot. Huh, you intoned, not really surprised by the discovery. Some people really did have all the luck in the world.

You fell to your knees unceremoniously. The polished floorboards dug into your shins but you were quick to dismiss the discomfort, too taken by the sizable length in front of your face. It wasn’t impressively thick, but the length was just right. Your thighs tightened as you imagined how well it could fill you up.

Impatience got the best of you and you spit into your palm, too lazy to go grab the lube from the bedside table. You used both hands to work his member to stiffness, occasionally leaning forward to spit onto his growing erection, the excess saliva easing the glide of skin on skin.

“Fuck, keep going. Get me ready to fuck you.” The sound of his voice made you glance up for the first time.

From this angle, Seokjin positively towered above you.

God, you wanted to climb him like a fucking tree.

Lust pumped through your veins, warming you from the inside out. Seeing him so affected made you re-double your efforts. The only thought crossing your mind right then was how much you wanted to see him to fall apart.

You twisted your hand with every upstroke, paying extra attention to the sensitive underside near the head of his cock. Every time you let your thumb stroke that particular area, Seokjin’s hips thrust forward of their own accord, a muffled groan of satisfaction making its way past his lips before he could swallow them down.

As much as he tried to appear unaffected, you could tell that he was slowly but surely being worn down. His hands balled into fists at his sides, nails digging white crescents onto the surface of his skin in an attempt to reign in his raging desires.

When you reached down to play with his balls, Seokjin decided that he had had enough.

Yanking you up by the arm, he manhandled you onto the bed, lifting you around like you weighed next to nothing. The perfectly ironed Egyptian cotton sheets crinkled under your weight but you couldn’t care less. By the end of the night, those wrinkles would be the least of your concerns.

“You sure about this, right?” He asked while kicking his pants and briefs all the way off. The rest of his clothes followed suit, and you gulped audibly as he revealed his broad shoulders, chiseled chest and slim waist in all their glorious nakedness. “Once I start I won’t hold back… And I’m not sure you’re ready for the fuck of your life.”

“Yes! I need a cock so bad. Please.”

Ignoring your whiny pleas, he bent his torso over the edge of the bed, blindly searching through the discarded clothes piled up on the floor.

“Condom. Where the fuck did I—Aha!” He grinned triumphantly when he found the foil packet in the back pocket of his jeans.

“I don’t need it,” you cut in before he ripped it open. “I’m on birth control and I’m clean.”

“Wha— Are you serious?” Momentarily stunned, he gaped down at you, condom wrapper still clutched between his fingers. “You want me to raw you.”

His crude phrasing made you squirm. “I like the feeling of cum in my pussy…” You felt your cheeks flame at the confession. “If you’re clean then please don’t use it.”

Seokjin chewed his bottom lip, visibly lost in thought.

“Please? Want to feel you fill me to the brim.” His eyes flashed. You knew you had him, then. 

When he spoke next, it was more out courtesy than due to indecisiveness. “What about Mr. Min?”

“What about me?” a familiar voice cut through the air.

You both startled, heads whipping towards the doorway. Except, unlike you, Seokjin recoiled, stumbling back like he had been burnt by a hot iron, his hands seizing the nearest pillow to cover up his modesty. From an outside perspective it must have been quite the sight.

“Oh please don’t stop on my account. Keep going, we were just getting to the good part,” Yoongi said coolly as he crossed his arms over his chest. He was still in his work clothes but had lost his suit jacket somewhere along the way. His white dress shirt was rolled up at the sleeves and your eyes were instantly drawn to his arms. One of the corners of his mouth twitched when he took note of your interest but his face remained otherwise blank, giving nothing away.

“W-what?” Seokjin gulped, any of his earlier bravado gone.

"Did I stutter?" Yoongi’s tone was monotone, almost bored. But his eyes—they told a whole different story. They pierced right through you, pinning you in place. Not that there was anywhere else you'd rather be than here, right now, with him, in this bedroom. You had been waiting for this moment for so long that the anticipation was killing you.

His cold gaze slid back over to Seokjin as he silently seized him up. "Well? Didn't I hear you say you were going to give my wife 'the fuck of her life'?" Yoongi's words were twisted with sarcasm. It was evident that he was looking down on Seokjin, his tone nothing but straight up condescending.

The way they talked about you like you weren’t even in the room should have been off-putting but for now you preferred to watch the scene unfold without interfering. There would be plenty of time to play later.

"What? Can't put your money where your mouth is?" Yoongi scoffed and leaned back against the wooden doorframe, feigning disappointment.

Seokjin bristled, deeply offended.

Internally, it dawned on you that this might be the first time someone had so openly challenged Seokjin. You knew guys like him—they were used to getting their way, used to being showered in constant praise, used to people coming back and begging for seconds, so thirsty for more they’d settle for scraps. Yoongi contempt had probably knocked Seokjin out of his orbit, rattling the latter to the core.

"You think I can't pleasure her?" he dared ask, eyebrows inflexed. His attempt at intimidation would have been more efficient had he not been the only one naked, you observed from the sidelines.

"Go on." Yoongi waved his hand, looking like he couldn't care less. "I'd like to see you try."

The clear disregard made Seokjin's jaw tick. His heavy brow furrowed. For the first time since Yoongi's presence was made known, Seokjin rounded on you, his normally honey brown irises now a murky, indescribable color. 

You shuddered, high on the feeling of being the subject of both of their attention. 

The air crackled with electricity, the tension escalating by the second, and you realized that playtime had arrived faster than anticipated. 

Seokjin approached you, much like a lion stalking his prey. You couldn't help but notice the determined glint in his eye, the confidence he wore unfailingly till the end. In his mind, he was going to win. He had no doubt about it. You were going to bend to his will and cum hard on his tongue just like the countless others had before you.

You almost felt bad for him. 

Maybe... Maybe if you had met him years ago, things would have gone exactly like how Seokjin pictured it in his head. But what he failed to realize was that he was in Yoongi's den, playing by Yoongi's rules.

And your husband? He never started anything he knew he wouldn't be able to finish. That was the business man in him. He measured the risks and calculated the cost before any operation, thus ensuring that he would never be beaten.

It was easy to tell by his relaxed posture that he really did view Seokjin as a non-threat.

You had known, of course, that he had never considered losing as an option. Yoongi had been the one to propose this particular game in the first place, after all. Even if it was a first for the both of you, he must have known that the stakes would always remain in his favor.

“Ready?” The mattress dipped under his weight. Seokjin crawled over you, kneeling so that his legs bracketed yours. There was a fire in his eyes that hadn’t been there fifteen minutes ago. He looked like a man with something to prove.

Inadvertently, your gaze flitted back to the doorway, searching for Yoongi’s. You wanted to see his face, needed to see how he’d react to another man touching you. 

“Eyes up here.” Reluctantly, you followed Seokjin’s instructions. He noticed your pout right away. “When I’m through with you, you won’t even remember you’re married.”

Gutsy. Your head turned to catch Yoongi’s reaction but Seokjin stopped you by leaning down to kiss you full on the lips. 

It was a strange feeling. Usually, you shut out the rest of the world, attention solely focused on the pair of lips moving against your own, but instead you felt hyper-aware of every little thing going on around you, ears straining as you tried to figure out what Yoongi was up to. 

Seokjin nipped your swollen lip, unhappy with how your mind kept drifting. You tried to make a more conscious effort and show more interest, running your hands up and down his arms and letting out puffs of air whenever his hands ghosted over a ticklish area of your body.

Now that you had become a more active participant, you had finally begun to appreciate the slow pace Seokjin had built up. Contrary to your expectations, he hadn’t shoved his horse dick into you and hammered away. He took his time with you, making a show out of it. You couldn’t say you disliked it.

Okay, so, admittedly your expectations had been pretty low to begin with... But you were quickly seeing the errors of your ways. And, in your personal opinion, it was always better to be pleasantly surprised than the opposite. 

Yoongi did not share the sentiment.

It was the first time a stranger had been invited into your shared bedroom. Seeing another man settled against the pillows he slept on at night wasn’t a sight he had ever imagined he’d see—let alone enjoy. 

And for a while, he let himself watch without intruding in on the scene, a foreign and inexplicable feeling rooting him to the spot. Yoongi had no name for it but the longer he played spectator, the more intense the emotion became.

Beneath the alien feeling, he detected arousal and although he wasn’t sure what exactly he found exciting about the sight in front of him, a ball of desire coiled tightly at the base of his spine.

Objectively, both of you looked beautiful together. Your words had not done Seokjin’s beauty justice. When he looked at the pair of you intertwined, it was like watching a high quality Hollywood movie. But Yoongi knew that his arousal wasn’t just surface level. It ran deeper than that.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he goaded, needing to confirm his suspicions. “You should get her ready to take cock. She hasn’t been fucked in a while, so she’ll be tight.”

He saw how his words made you squirm and smothered a smirk. He couldn’t wait to deal with you.

When Seokjin looked up to meet his gaze, Yoongi was surprised to see incredulity present in the brown of his eyes.

“Wait.” He swallowed, suddenly losing the confidence he had sported earlier. “Y-you’re actually serious about this?”

Ah. Yoongi suspected that the slow pace hadn’t been because Seokjin had wanted to enjoy his wife, but because he had been waiting for Yoongi to jump in and put a premature end to all of this.  

“Looks like you really were all talk. But what else should I have expected from some college grad student…”

Provoking him into action proved to be too easy. The line of Seokjin’s mouth hardened and he renewed his previous efforts. He grew bolder, hands deliberately reaching for your breasts to squeeze them through the expensive material of your dress.  The kiss became sloppier as well, losing all finesse. From what Yoongi could see, there was less technique, but more tongue and teeth.

Whatever fire Yoongi had lit inside him had made him careless.

Yoongi’s pointed stare never strayed. As if sensing the scrutiny directed his way, Seokjin fumbled with his movements, eager to prove but too frenzied to actually accomplish anything.  

By the looks of it, he wouldn’t be able to find your clitoris even it was drawn on a map with the step by step instructions attached. Yoongi would find the whole situation laughable if he wasn’t so affronted on your behalf.

“Do you know how to fuck a woman or not?” he spat out, exasperated.

“Just a minute, I’m—”

“Here’s what you’re going to do,” Yoongi interrupted, his curt tone leaving no room for argument. He loosened up his tie with one hand as he continued, voice sharp, “Go sit up by the headboard and don’t even think of moving. That means no touching your dick, either.”

There was a tense moment of silence as Seokjin gaped at him, his eyes wide as he tried to quickly process the rapid turn of events. 

"I won't force you to stay. It's your call. But if you choose to play with us, you're abiding by my rules." 

Seokjin looked like he wanted to argue and put up a fight and for half a second, you really thought that he would.  Yoongi took his silence as a favorable answer, certain that the younger man wouldn't leave.

“I’m feeling generous tonight so I’ll let you watch. You can think of it as a learning experience. I’ll even show you how to make my slut soak the sheets.” A smile curved his lips, taunting. “And maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you lick it up. How’s that sound?”

Yoongi raised his brow in challenge and that was all it took for Seokjin to slowly make his way to the edge of the bed, his back hitting the mahogany wood with a dull thud.

Yoongi liked to think he was a reasonable man. 

He was fine with a lot of things—you maxing out his credit cards on ridiculously expensive items of clothing that you never wore more than once, you taking out his newest car for a spin in the big city without permission, you spending an extra thirty minutes on your hair and makeup when he was running late for a dinner function.

What he was not okay with, however, was you sharing your pussy with barely-out-of-college boys who were incapable of going five seconds without creaming their pants.

No, that was where he drew the line.

You were a woman with standards. You had married him, not some pretty-faced fratboy, had you not? If that wasn’t sufficient proof, then what was?

As vain and prideful as it sounded, Yoongi refused to be put on the same level of the other men who chased after you. Unlike those men who salivated over you like a piece of quality meat, he knew exactly what you wanted and what you needed.

In the bedroom, a voice in the back of his mind corrected. You only know what she wants in the bedroom.

Yoongi swallowed, forcing the sudden feeling of inadequacy down his throat. He had failed you on that end. Old habits were hard to kill and he had learned of the consequences the hard way.

It had always been like that. Even as a kid, Yoongi liked rationality and reasoning, preferring numbers to the abstract. Equations had solutions, emotions did not. Before he had met you, every little thing he did had answered logic’s call. He woke up because he had to get to work. He ate because his body needed the energy to survive.

He was so used to fending for himself, of thinking of himself as a unit, that sometimes he forgot that his actions affected others as well. In retrospect, his lack of empathy had most likely been the root of the reason why all of his previous relationships had failed miserably.

People had never stayed long enough to work the issues out. Maybe they figured that he was too anchored in his habits to change or too emotionless to understand. There was also the financial imbalance that factored in and despite Yoongi’s verbal reassurances, none of it had helped. It was…uncomfortable, to say the least. His previous partners had never dared voice out their concerns and worries and Yoongi hated it, hated feeling like he was using his money to keep people in his life, no matter how miserable they clearly felt on the inside.

With you, it was different.

Yoongi reached the foot of the bed and met your honest gaze. Something squeezed his heart tightly and refused to let go. Despite all his flaws, you had stayed. Not out of obligation or monetary obsession—but out of love.

Love…was hard to define. Every time he thought he knew what it meant, it turned out he didn’t. But as he stood there with you finally at an arm’s reach, he thought he felt the emotion beating against his rib cage, making a home in his chest.

“Yoongi.” Your fingers twitched at your side, like they wanted to reach out for him but weren’t sure if they were allowed to.

When he draped himself over your body and interlaced his fingers with yours, it was as if something inside him finally locked into place.  

“My love.” Your pulse jumped at the term of endearment. He liked using it ever since you had let slip that none of your previous lovers had ever called you that way. Even if you had initially complained that it made him sound like a fifty year old man, he knew you enjoyed it by the way your body never failed to respond. “I’ve made you wait long enough.”

He meant it in more ways than one. Yoongi was ready to give you everything, body and soul. He belonged to you.

“Are you going to do something about it?” You held your breath and waited for his answer, anticipation turning you into a squirming mess against the sheets.

“This dress brings back many memories,” he said instead, pointer finger tracing down the line of your cleavage. From this distance, Yoongi could count every single beauty mark that speckled your skin. His memory supplied images of himself licking and connecting each dot, the hot drag of his tongue leaving behind a trail of goosebumps. His mouth hungered for a taste but Yoongi curbed the desire before it had the chance to cloud his judgment. “Although I thought I had ruined it beyond saving a long time ago.”

“Your black card bought me a new one.”

Yoongi snorted, the unrefined sound breaking his cool façade. “Let’s get it off you. As much as I adore it, it looks better on the ground.”

“Take what’s yours.”

Yoongi wasted not a second more, the hurried movements of his hands conveying his burning arousal. With deft fingers, he found the zipper of your dress and pulled, watching with satisfaction as inch after inch of naked skin was exposed.

“Naughty slut.” His eyes narrowed as he admired your exposed body. Yoongi forced himself to keep his hands still at his sides even though he was dying to relieve his painful erection from the tight confines of his briefs. “Are you always bare under your clothes?”

“The lines…” you mumbled and trailed off. “My dress is so tight that my bra and panties show if I wear any.”

Yoongi scoffed, forcing his eyebrows into an expression of disbelief. “So you’re not okay with strangers seeing the outline of your thong, but fine with them ogling your hard nipples? Why? That desperate for them to know what a horny wife I have?”

“I wouldn’t be this horny if you fucked me more often.” You glared.

A beat of silence passed before Yoongi unlocked his jaw. “We’ll have to do something about that mouth later. Seems like a lesson on manners is in order.”

“Counting on it, sir,” was your cheeky answer.

Yoongi’s hand came down with a crack. He watched as your whole body jolted from the impact. “Hands and knees. No, the other way. Face our guest. Since you like showing off your tits so much, here’s another perfect opportunity to do so.”

In your haste to follow his orders, you stumbled several times, knees knocking together as you readjusted yourself to his whims. Without needing to be told, you spread out your legs and arched your back, leaving the most intimate parts of you completely exposed for his viewing pleasure. If he wanted to take you right then, there was nothing stopping him from doing so.

Seokjin was all but forgotten at this point. He could have left the room and Yoongi wouldn’t have noticed—or cared. His vision had tunneled, his entire world narrowed down to the sight of you presenting yourself just like a good whore should. It seemed like you were equally affected, if not more. Yoongi spread your cheeks so that he could fully appreciate the view of your drenched pussy. If he had ever doubted your arousal, your slick thighs, shiny with your juices, and swollen lips were enough proof to dispel such uncertainties.

“You’re all mine to take,” he said in a soft growl.

He knelt behind you and ran his hands up the back of your sticky thighs. This position left him at the perfect height to eat you out. His mouth watered at the prospect of finally having his fill. Too long had he deprived himself of a delicious meal… It was time to fix that.

You moaned the instant his finger came into contact with your rapidly hardening clit. Your feeble attempts at shoving your hips back for more were thwarted by Yoongi's strong grip on your thigh, the rough pads of his fingertips bruising the soft skin in warning. It took a herculean effort to keep still but you somehow managed, knowing that your obedience would pay off.

Yoongi liked to enjoy his meals. He took his time with you, playing with the abundance of wetness that had collected between your thighs, dragging his digits across your velvety folds.

He loved taking you this way. With you offered up to him ass up and legs spread, he could really get into it, mouth and hands dictating the pace without your interference. There was nothing you could do save for holding open your cheeks and plead for more.

Sometimes—when he felt merciful—he indulged you. But he could not deny that there was something infinitely more satisfying when he drew out your pleasure until you shook and cried with need.

“Mhmm.” His groan echoed yours as he slid in his ring finger into your hot cunt. You were so aroused that the stretch could hardly be felt. “Snug and wet. S’gonna be a tight fit when I open you up with my cock later.”

The unspoken promise of cock made your walls squeeze around his finger and Yoongi groaned again  as he imagined how amazing you’d feel around his painful erection instead of his hand.

For now, he pushed the ache aside. The only one that mattered right now was you.

He flattened his tongue and let it drag across your folds, moaning as the taste of you flooded his mouth.  Fuck. It wasn’t enough, he thought frantically. As he continued to lick into you like a man starved, he wondered how he could ever possibly tire of your taste. How he had managed to stay away from it all this time was a mystery he had yet to solve.

Your cries of pleasure grew louder as his tongue fucked into you, sampling the snugness of your walls for what would come later. Wetness dripped down his chin but he could care less about the mess you made. He kept licking it up, not wanting to stop for a single second, only pulling off whenever his lungs burned from lack of air.

Attuned to your body and its needs, he felt every tremor and hitch of breath. Whenever he sensed your heart rate kick up, he slowed down and changed the tempo. He kept you on the edge like that for several long minutes, building you up only to bring you back to zero.  

Finally, he pulled back, ignoring the betrayed cry he ripped from your throat, and wiped the shine off his chin with the back of his hand. The taste of you was still heavy on his tongue and he couldn’t help but lick his lips clean in satisfaction. Nothing pleased him more than feasting between your legs and it would be a lie to say that he hadn’t missed it terribly. 

A creak of the mattress distracted him. Seokjin shifted uncomfortably, his erection prominent. By the looks of it, he had been hard for a rather long time. Yoongi was pleased to see that Seokjin had stayed true to his word—his hands were obediently shoved under the meat of his thighs to prevent himself from touching himself.

Yoongi had been so focused on the five-star meal nestled between your thighs that he had forgotten his manners. 

“Darling, it’s time to show our guest what a lovely host you are.” He punctured his command with a sharp swat to your ass.

You stumbled forward but looked back at him for guidance. “How—?”

“Don’t think I forgot how well you begged for cock earlier,” he reminded you. “You still desperate for it?”

“Want,” you shook your head, confused. “Want yours.”

The features of his face softened. “You’ll get mine soon enough. But you know only good sluts get my cock and I still need some convincing.”

“I’m good,” you insisted, your lips pursed into a pout.

He raised his brow and tilted his head.

Squinting your eyes defiantly, you crawled over to Seokjin and begged, shameless and past the point of caring about modesty. “Please fuck my face.”

“Is that—?” Seokjin gulped, looking down at you with worried eyes. “Will you be okay?”  

“Oh, you’d be surprised.” A wicked grin played at Yoongi’s lips. “I’ve cock trained her to take it like a good slut should.”

The unabashed moan his words provoked was all it took for Seokjin to know that you were fully on board with him fucking your face. His eyes widened imperceptibly at how shameless you looked, mouth open with your tongue out, panting for his hardened length down your throat like a bitch in heat. 

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, squeezing the base of his cock to keep himself together.

Your lewd display seemed to amuse Yoongi to no end. 

“Look, she’s hungry for it. Don’t keep her waiting, she’s been good.”

Seokjin gave in. No matter what others believed, he was only human. All men had their limits and Seokjin’s self-restraint had been tested too many times today to count. He fed you his cock, slipping inch after inch into your hot mouth.

His groan of appreciation vibrated deep in his chest and he tipped his head back as the feeling of your mouth momentarily overwhelmed him.

It didn’t take long for him to get lost in the feeling. Although he had had his reservations about the entire thing, Seokjin stopped holding back once he saw how enthusiastic you were. You sucked his cock, working him down even if it was obvious his sizeable length wasn’t making it easy.

“Force it down,” instructed Yoongi.

Seokjin jumped, his eyes flying open as he remembered the older man’s presence. Your mouth was so good he had erased everything else in the room.

“What?”

“She won’t be able to take it in her throat unless you help her.” Yoongi observed with almost clinical detachment. Seokjin took a moment to admire the man’s calm and collected attitude. The moment dissipated quickly, however. Your tongue had started doing things to the head of his cock that had him biting down whines of pleasure.

You laughed around his dick when he failed to suppress one of them. Seokjin’s erection twitched as the vibrations teased him further and he groaned out a few creative expletives that had you giggling harder.

His hips kicked up of their own accord, making you gag loudly as his length reached the back of your throat. Seokjin almost apologized but you dug your nails into the meat of his ass and signaled him to do it again.

He swore again and fucked into your mouth slowly at first but once he saw you could take it, started building a pace. “Holy s-shit. I’m going to blow my load soon, fucking fuck.”

That only seemed to strengthen your determination. You got even tighter around him, almost like you were trying to milk the cum out of his dick with your mouth.

Yoongi approached with the stealth of a cat, making sure not to startle you when you had a cock buried in your throat. Seokjin glanced up and was glad to see that the man wasn’t wholly unaffected. Compared to when he had first met him, Yoongi looked a lot less composed. His once perfectly ironed button-down was now wrinkled, his tie loosened and crooked. And then there was his cock—hard and leaking.

Seokjin’s balls tightened and he blinked through the haze, not knowing why he was so turned on by being watched. Yoongi kept the grip on his dick loose, his strokes lazy and unhurried. Next to him, Seokjin felt like he was about a minute or two away from nutting down your throat.

“Want to know why she’s so desperate for your cum?” The way he said it—like he was imparting a guarded secret—made Seokjin look up at him through heavy lids. Every so often his lids would droop close, attention wavering with every lick of your wicked tongue.

Yoongi leaned in so close that his breath tickled the side of his neck. “It’s because she knows that it’s the only way I’ll give her what she’s been so desperately craving all this time—my fat cock fucking her pussy.”

Seokjin was unsure who the words were truly aimed at. You reacted like they had been whispered for your benefit, moaning without reserve around his dick. 

"She's so cock hungry she was willing to seduce handsome pool boys if it meant that she'd get fucked by me. Reward the slut. Cum, now."

“Oh fuck!” Seokjin threw his head back as he felt his balls empty themselves. The muscles in his thighs quivered and his knees threatened to give out. “What the fuck. I haven’t cum this hard in months.”

His chest heaved as he got his heartbeat under control. When he was finally capable of breathing normally, he chanced a glace down at you and swore his heart stopped for a nanosecond.

Yoongi had pried your mouth open with his fingers, examining the insides of your mouth. The sight was…obscene. Straight out of a porno. Seokjin’s stomach tightened as he observed the scene in front of him, feeling his spent dick twitch in interest despite the recent mind-numbing orgasm.

“Good girl,” praised Yoongi and even to Seokjin’s ears, he sounded proud of his wife’s achievements. “Spit.”

He motioned at his raging boner. “Get me ready to fuck you. With how long it’s been, you’re going to need all the lube you can get.”

Visibly excited at the prospect of finally getting your husband’s cock, you obliged, gathering all the cum in your mouth and letting it drip down his erect length in globs of white. Seokjin had never experimented with cumplay and didn’t know if the sight aroused or disgusted him.

“Mhm,” Yoongi grunted as he slicked up his dick, coating the entirety of it in another man’s cum. The sound of each stroke rang out loudly in the otherwise quiet room, the sound lewd and wet.

“Please fuck me now,” you pleaded, hands clasped in your lap and knees still tucked under you from earlier. The position and sweet tone made you appear demure—but by now Seokjin knew better. “You promised.”

“I did, didn’t I?” He smiled wide enough for creases to appear near his eyes. “Time to give you what you worked so hard for.”

Yoongi didn’t wait for a reply—not that he had been expecting one in the first place. He pushed you back until your back hit the mattress and crawled over you, pinning you to the bed with his weight.

He kept his eyes level with yours as he pushed the head of his cock into you. The stretch was slow but he refused to go faster, ignoring your noises of encouragement. Despite his earlier rough treatment, he had no interest in inflicting this kind of pain. He kept his hips still, not giving in to his instincts, and waited until you had completely adjusted before finally moving again.  

Your moan sounded more genuine this time. It was enough to convince Yoongi that you were ready for more. “You always let out the prettiest sounds for me.”

He pulled out all the way only to slam back in, the intrusion earning him a throaty moan, louder than the last. Grinning, he kept up the slow yet deep thrusts, balls slapping against your ass with every rock of his hips into yours.

Yoongi felt the best kind of dizzy, like he had smoked a blunt right before sliding into your cunt. There were only two instances where he felt this invincible and on top of the world. One, whenever he fucked your sweet pussy as he pleased. Two, when he had secured a multi-million dollar deal. Luckily for him, he had checked both boxes today. The adrenaline high he had gotten this morning at the office still ran through his veins and only fueled his desire to fuck you harder and drive your body into the mattress.

Unfortunately, he had been pent up for so long that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to give it to you like you deserved. He had been hard for God knew how long… And hadn’t had sex in almost two whole months. No wonder he felt his control slipping much faster than usual.

“Missed your cock so much,” you sobbed, hiccuping as he drove into you harder. “Thought about it every night.

“I promise I’ll never keep it away from you this long ever again.”

“Good.” Your lashes fluttered as he ground his hips into yours, pelvis rubbing against your needy clit. “Ah!”

Yoongi’s rhythm stuttered as he adjusted your legs, throwing one over his shoulder in order to reach deeper. “Missed this tight cunt. Craved it so much, I dreamt of it. Imagined you bouncing on my lap during those board meetings, bending you over the conference table and taking you in front of all of my associates. I’d let them watch, let them watch you take my cock from behind like a filthy whore.”

He abandoned his deep thrusting for quicker, shallow strokes. “Fuck, I can feel you tighten. You going to cum all over my cock for me? Did you like the idea of me fucking you in a room full of people that much?”

Yoongi’s groan of pleasure was drowned out by your scream of ecstasy. The way you clenched down like a vice was almost enough to destroy the last of his control. He gritted his teeth, nostrils flaring as he drove into you even deeper, determined to see you fall apart one last time.

Knowing that it wouldn’t take many more thrusts before he’d be pushed over the edge, he reached down between your legs to rub at your clit. You thrashed under him, over stimulated but forced to take it. If it wasn’t for his firm grip on your legs, you would have tried to buck him off.

“Ah, Yoongi! Yoongi, I’m—” You sucked in a gulp of air as your eyes rolled back. “Oh God!”

“That’s right. Cream my cock, slut,” he hissed, his shirt sticking to him uncomfortably. His fringe was matted with sweat, but he couldn’t push it out of his face, not now, not when he was so fucking close.

His thumb flicked over your clit in rough circles, knowing exactly what you needed to be pushed over the edge.

It seemed to do the trick—seconds later and he felt you break into a violent climax, pussy gushing all over his cock and muscles clamping down on him with every contraction.

Yoongi could hold it back no longer. His last thrusts were quick and rough, cock throbbing painfully as he chased his end. Hips slamming into yours, he snarled between clenched teeth, “You better take it all.”

He thought he felt your pussy throb around him as he released himself inside you, cum spurting so deep he was sure he’d painted your cervix white.

For a while, only the whirring of the ceiling fan and the sound of rapid beating of hearts could be heard. Yoongi knew he should probably go clean up and throw his soiled clothes and sheets into the hamper, but his muscles had gone lax and refused to cooperate.

You rolled onto your stomach and propped yourself up on your elbows. He cracked open an eye when he heard you clear your throat.  

“So? Threesome? How did we feel about that?”

“Are you asking me?” Seokjin asked incredulously and Yoongi finally remembered there was an extra presence on their bed. When you shrugged then nodded, Seokjin snorted. “Do you always conduct polls after sex?”

Yoongi was similarly unimpressed. “No one else can make you cum as hard as I do. Remember that.”

.

 .

.

.

“So this is the young man you told me so much about,” drawled Yoongi.

Jungkook’s spine straightened, the man’s low timbre doing things to his insides.

When you had announced that he’d finally be able to meet your husband, Jungkook had readily agreed, looking forward to having his curiosity finally sated.

After one unsuccessful online search, Jungkook had given up on figuring out what kind of man you had married. His imagination had pictured a middle-aged man with a beer belly who occasionally liked to play polo.

Jungkook gulped audibly, realizing he couldn’t have been further from the truth.

Of fucking course his boss had to be ridiculously handsome. With his clear skin, delicately shaped nose and lips, and small, sharp eyes that had Jungkook averting his gaze, Mr. Min was so handsome that Jungkook was left bereft of speech.

Unaware of his inner crisis, Yoongi filled the awkward silence with ease. “I believe we’ve exchanged over the phone. You may address me as Yoongi, if you so wish. My wife tells me how hard you work. I wanted to personally thank you for all your efforts. I know it’s not an easy task to work in such weather conditions.”

Oh god. They talked about him. Together.

He cleared his throat. “I’m just doing my job, sir.”

Yoongi held out his hand for him to shake. His hands were so delicate looking that the force behind his grip took Jungkook by surprise. Yoongi’s gaze never strayed, trapping him in place. Jungkook felt like a prey with nowhere to hide.

“It was a pleasure working for the both of you.” He managed without stuttering like a fool. “If ever you need me for anything else, don’t hesitate. I’ve done some gardening before and I’m ok with the odd paint jobs.”

Jungkook bit his lip and ceased his rambling. Embarrassed, he scratched the back of his neck.

“I’ll be sure to remember that.”

Yoongi let the corners of his mouth curl into a smirk. He turned towards you as he watched Jungkook gather the rest of his belongings and take his leave. “You’re right. He is cute.”

“I’m always right,” you said in a distracted manner, mind elsewhere.

“You were awfully silent earlier. Hm? Not very polite.” One of his hands squeezed the dip at your waist.

You didn’t bother suppressing your glare. Yoongi merely chuckled, amused by your predicament. “I was otherwise busy.”

“Oh? But don’t you think Jungkookie would’ve enjoyed seeing my cum dripping out of your greedy pussy?” he asked, the lilt in his tone teasing. “He looked absolutely taken with you. Kept admiring your legs—not that I blame him.”

His hands played with the hem of your brazenly short dress, lifting the fabric up your thighs to uncover your naked mound.

“Would’ve been nice to treat him for all his hard work,” he commented as his fingers dipped into your hole to play with the cum he had fucked into you not even an hour ago. “And seeing cum paint your pretty thighs would have been quite the gift.”

“Yo-oongi,” you moaned his name, clenching your core as tightly as you could, not wanting to spill a single drop. “I think, ah, I think he wouldn’t have liked s-seeing your cum go to waste.”

“Is that so?”

“He looked more taken with you than with me,” you said between heavy pants. One of your hands had closed around Yoongi’s wrists in warning—you were still on the front porch for God’s sake there were kids in the neighborhood—but it hadn’t deterred him in the least. On the contrary, his fingers plundered your depths, determined to get you to drench his whole hand.

“Well…” Yoongi smiled, gums on display, as your body shuddered from head to toe. fin

“There’s only one way to test that theory out, isn’t there?”

.

.

[sluttyten]

In Front of You

summary: Jaehyun models nude for your art class, you have an enormous crush on him, and it turns out that Jaehyun is actually a work of art. 

words: 5,684

pairing: Jaehyun x Reader

You told yourself that you were a professional. An artiste. You wouldn’t let yourself be distracted by the very, very, very attractive nude man standing in front of you, posing for your art class.

You would pay attention to all of the things, the details and lighting, small details. Not just get distracted by his well-defined abs and that trail of hair leading down from his navel to his penis.

Because you knew that if you let yourself be distracted by those things you would be reminded that he’s not just a very attractive nude model standing in front of you to be drawn, you would remember that he is a friend. An acquaintance, really.

Jung Jaehyun. A sweet and somewhat nerdy student worker in the library. A guy who spends his free time at the gym, working out or playing basketball, and now you get to unexpectedly see those results.

When you had told him that if he was looking for some extra cash the art department was always accepting volunteers to model for classes, you never expected that he would volunteer to be a nude model. Jaehyun hadn’t really struck you as the sort to be into revealing himself like that in front of so many people. Maybe his friend Lucas would, but Jaehyun always seemed a bit more reserved to you, but now here he stands.

He catches your eye and for a moment his lips turn up in a smile. His ears are blushing pink, and you wonder if he’s embarrassed to be standing up there completely naked in front of all of these people or if the embarrassing thing is that he’s standing up there in front of you, someone that he actually knows.

When your professor calls for a break halfway through the class to allow everyone a chance to stretch, you take a moment to excuse yourself from the classroom to cool off.

You were at the part of the sketch of Jaehyun where you needed to be drawing his abs, his dick, his veiny hands which hovered in the near vicinity, and it was beginning to get you a little hot and bothered.

For as long as you’ve known Jaehyun, since one frantic night spent at the library after your laptop crashed and you had a digital art project due the next day and Jaehyun helped you download the program you needed onto one of the library’s computers and he even kept you company, you’ve had an enormous crush on him.

Like, sex dreams, drunken near-kisses, ridiculous jealousy sometimes.

So seeing him naked, so close, yet so untouchable, has put you in a bit of a situation. As you sit there trying your hardest not to stare, but also needing to look so you can get everything perfect, all you can think about is how (you’re sure everyone has noticed, not just you) Jaehyun’s gotten a bit hard while he’s been sitting up there in his model’s pose. All you can think of is his hard dick and how badly you would like to suck him off.

In the hallway outside the classroom, you press your back to the wall. The cool tile feels amazing against your palms and it radiates through your thin T-shirt and against the backs of your thighs, exposed since you’re just wearing a skirt today. You stare up at the ceiling for a moment, sunlight shining through the vaulted glass ceiling high overhead, tall marble pillars offering their support.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

“Are you alright?” A voice asks.

Jaehyun’s standing beside you, leaning against the wall. He looks like an angel, a statue brought to life. With the sunlight coming through the ceiling, playing off his softly tousled rosy hair, he looks incredibly beautiful which is so unfair. No one should look so good when they’re wrapped in a cheap robe like the one that he’s pulled on.

“I’m fine,” You tell him. “Just a bit…. frustrated.”

Your eyes dance over his figure. The width of his shoulders, stretch of his smile, the twitch of his fingers against the hem of his robe (which is unnecessarily short).

Jaehyun pushes his fingers through his hair. “Trouble with your sketch?”

“Something like that.”

Someone pushes through the classroom door, and a few other people follow, so Jaehyun takes a step closer to you to move out of their way.

In doing so, he’s suddenly so close you can feel the warmth of him almost, you can smell his body wash like a spicy summer evening, reminding you of a night you’d spent sitting beside him, of bonfires and alcohol, s’mores and barbecue.

You lower your gaze, but that’s a mistake too. His bare thigh flashes through a gap in his robe. You bite at your lip and try to look away but Jaehyun’s watching you closely, something warm glinting in his eyes, and as he swallows you can’t help but watch the bob of his Adam’s apple.

“You know, you’re not really looking at me like an artist does. Everyone else in there has this look of focus and kinda like they’re picking me apart.” He moves closer again as a few more people leave the classroom, heading to go to the restroom or the vending machines. “But you’re looking at me like you’d like to peel me apart, layer by layer. With your teeth.”

You feel your body fill with heat, a combination of arousal and embarrassment. He’s your friend, you can’t admit to him that he’s correct in that observation.

Luckily, you don’t get the chance.

Your phone rings in your pocket, and although it’s a number you don’t recognize, you take it as an escape from the situation you don’t want to be in and you excuse yourself to answer the call.

By the time you walk back into the classroom, the sketching has resumed. Jaehyun’s posing once more and everyone pores over their sketches. You slip back into your seat and try to focus on the artistic aspect and nothing else, even when Jaehyun looks at you again and smiles a bit.

You really really try not to think about his penis, about the blushing of his ears and how it’s beginning to match the blushing color of his ever so slowly growing erection. But it’s difficult.

You’re almost relieved when you look up to check on the way the light casts shadows over him, and you discover that he’s gone soft again. His eyes are closed now and his brow scrunches just a little bit.

But then his eyes open, meeting yours almost right away and there’s a sudden intensity that catches you off guard and causes you to unintentionally lick your lips.

Jaehyun’s hands close into fists and he shifts his position and glances at the clock.

“Five minutes left!” The professor calls. “Finish up your work, turn it in to me before you leave. Jaehyun, thank you so much for coming in today. We all appreciate your time very much.”

Jaehyun nods and smiles, but the expression is a bit tight around the edges, you notice. He changes position, standing upright and folds his hands in front of his crotch. The professor tells him that can go ahead and leave if he’d like to, and it appears that he definitely would because the words are barely out of the professor’s mouth before Jaehyun is pulling his robe on, grabbing his bag from the floor, and walking out the door.

You scribble your name at the bottom of the sketch, stand up, gather your things, and walk up to hand over your sketch with a hurried, “I’ve finished. Have a great day, Professor.”  And then you’re on your way out too.

You push through the door of the classroom.

A hand grabs you, pulling you to the side, and you fall against a firm chest. Jaehyun.

Your hand curls against his chest and as you look into his eyes, you come to a mutual silent agreement.

Jaehyun takes your hand in his and begins walking quickly down the hallway.

“I’m going to get out of this robe,” Jaehyun says, glancing around. “As soon as I find a restroom.”

“You were just out of the robe. Why’d you have to put it back on?” You tug his hand, dragging him sideways down a short hallway to a janitor’s closet.

Jaehyun grins as he stumbles back through the door, curling his fingers against your hips, to pull you closer. The light overhead buzzes on, tripped by a motion sensor, and for a moment you gasp, but then Jaehyun’s back hits the wall and your hands move to his chest to steady yourself. His robe falls open easily under your fingers, and his fingers skate up your thighs, dipping under your skirt.

“Are you going to kiss me or just keep staring?” Jaehyun teases, inclining his head, just shy of kissing you.

It’s simply unfair that even in the subpar lighting of a janitor’s closet Jaehyun manages to look so good. His dimples pop in the lighting, his hair looking soft and very touchable, so you move your hands up to his neck gently and then you press forward.

Kissing Jaehyun is nice. Warm and sweet, hungry and slightly desperate. Each of you trying to be closer and closer, which is next to impossible as his bare skin presses against you while his hands move over your body, lifting your skirt up so he can slip his fingers inside your panties.

Jaehyun moans. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long. I’ve had a crush on you since I first saw you at the library, and when I walked into that classroom today--”

You cut him off with your lips. You don’t need to know all that, you just need his fingers, his lips, his cock, something to satiate that hunger you’ve had since the moment you watched him drop his robe for in front of the whole art class.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you while I was standing up there.” Jaehyun admits, breaking the kiss again. You whine a little and try to bring his mouth back to yours, but Jaehyun turns his head so your lips hit his jaw instead. “Having you watching me like that, it’s something I’ve dreamt about, and seeing how flustered you were as well was so hot. I just kept imagining you sitting there in your seat, sweating and all wet, dripping in your panties while you looked at my cock.”

His fingers slide against the crotch of your panties, feeling how you truly have soaked your panties with arousal, and he presses a finger up to swirl against your clit through the material. You make an involuntary squeak and hide your face in his shoulder.

“Jaehyun, just touch me, please.” You plead, digging your fingernails into the back of his neck.

With a hiss (of pleasure or pain, you’re not sure), Jaehyun takes hold of your panties and pulls them down. You kick them off and then stretch back up to kiss him, more hungrily, hotter and needier this time as Jaehyun backs you across the small space until your back hits the opposite wall.

Automatically, you raise a leg to his hip, giving him access to your pussy. He’s hard, nudging against your thigh, and you bite at his bottom lip, suck and lick over the spot, before you pull away. “I need you, Jaehyun.”

“I know you do.”

His hands go to your thighs, pushing them apart, and he helps lift you up just a bit, pinning you between himself and the wall. Just enough that he can get a hand on himself, run his hand over his dick a few times, tease you by rubbing his dick between your wet folds, and then he pushes in, but not all the way.

“How badly do you really think you need me?” Jaehyun asks, as he holds himself back from thrusting fully into you, just letting the head of his cock inside you. And it’s not enough. It’s not nearly enough. You squeeze your hands on his upper arms, trying to urge him into giving you more, but he waits patiently. His eyes glint mirthfully, a smile playing on his lips as he watches you struggle to form the desire burning in your gut into words to tell him what you need so desperately.

You wiggle and try to push yourself down onto him, but Jaehyun tuts at you and pulls fully out.

“I just need you.” You press your face into his shoulder, drag your teeth lightly over his collarbones. “So many times I’ve wanted you, Jaehyun, but, god, seeing you like this today… Finally seeing you as totally sexy, as naked and handsome as you are, the center of everyone’s attention…” You tilt your head back, exposing your throat to him as you admit, “I was jealous, and now I need you to make me feel like I have no reason to be jealous. Make me feel like I’m yours even if I’m not.”

And that’s what does it at last.

You cross your legs behind his back as Jaehyun slides into you.

“You’re so wet.” Jaehyun bites his bottom lip, trying to hold in a moan. “I’ll show you you’re mine. So wet for me, yeah? Oh god. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve dreamt of sneaking away with you to the stacks in the basement of the library, hiding us away so I could fuck you like this. This is so much better than my fantasies.” He kisses you again, licking into your mouth. “You taste so sweet, smell so good, feel so right and wet on my dick.”

In the tight space of the closet, it’s not long before the air feels humid and close, the room smelling of sweat and sex, and Jaehyun humps you, his skin slapping noisily against yours as his cock slides wet and quick into you with each thrust.

You cling to his shoulders and try to keep your moans in, and when that fails, you try to just keep the volume down.

You reach a hand down between your bodies to rub at your clit and you move your mouth back onto Jaehyun’s, your other hand gripping the back of his neck.

This kiss is messy. Saliva everywhere, more of just moaning into each other’s mouths rather than actually kissing.

Jaehyun’s fingers dig into your thighs and he thrusts suddenly deeper.

“Oh, God.” You cry, scraping your nails against his neck and you move your fingers faster on your clit. You feel so close. That tight knot of pleasure building inside you. “Jaehyun, please. Right there.”

His cock drags over your G spot, and from the sound you make, Jaehyun knows to do that exact thing again. And again and again.

You orgasm in quiet pleasure, your breath coming quick as the energy spills through your body. Your fingers falter on your clit, but Jaehyun doesn’t let up, he actually starts snapping his hips faster, desperate for more of the feeling of your pussy pulsating around him, in search of his own orgasm.

He attempts to muffle his grunts and moans by pressing his mouth to yours, but he’s noisy and you just egg him on, letting out little whimpers as he keeps nailing your G spot and you’re sensitive, legs twitching around his hips.

“You feel so tight. Shit.” Jaehyun grunts. “I’m gonna cum.”

A flare of panic passes through you as you remember he’s not wearing a condom and you’re not on the pill.

“Pull out. Pull out!” You push at his shoulders, and Jaehyun stumbles back, leaving you free to fall to your knees and pull him closer by his hips.

Jaehyun just moans and grips you by the hair as you take his cock into your mouth. You gag as he thrusts down your throat, moving quickly to chase that sweetness of his orgasm, loving the feeling of your warm, tight throat.

You think that the sound of Jaehyun moaning, grunting and sighing your name as he fucks your throat, is possibly one of the best things you’ve ever heard.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty. You should see yourself.” Jaehyun pulls you back, his fingers still wound tightly in your hair, until only the tip of his cock is in your mouth. “Open up, I want to see.”

You open your mouth for him, and Jaehyun loosens a hand to grab his dick and jerk off onto your tongue.

And for a flickering moment of time, you feel absolutely filthy, like a whore as you kneel there on this dirty janitor’s closet floor with your pussy wet, your mouth open and waiting for the most handsome man you’ve ever known to feed you his cum straight from the source, and you’re just gazing up at him like there’s nothing he could give you that would make you happier. And the most amazing part is that you don’t even mind feeling like a whore as long as Jaehyun’s the one making you feel that way. You find pleasure in the dirtiness of what you’re currently doing, where you’re doing it, and mainly who you’re doing it with.

Jaehyun’s eyes close, and he moans, “Oh, fuck yeah. Take it, baby.”

You almost don’t expect it when he cums, spurting over your tongue. Warm and salty, bitter and thick on your lips and tongue, the back of your throat. But you love it. You love the sound he makes when you close your lips around him again and suck on his sensitive head. You love how he immediately starts fucking your mouth again, pushing his cum down your throat, using you to extend his orgasm.

Jaehyun fucks your mouth until he’s finished, and then he pulls out and wobbles backwards.

“Was that good, Jaehyun?” You ask, and you’re a little surprised at the sound of your voice, a little rough after the abuse your throat just took.

He nods and closes his eyes. He’s still breathing hard and fast, and you watch as he runs a hand down his chest to his dick. You’d be ready to go again right now if he wanted, but he’s gone soft and honestly a janitor’s closet is not the best hook up destination.

You climb to your feet and straighten your skirt, glancing around to search the floor for your panties.

“Are you doing anything else today?” Jaehyun asks suddenly.

You look up from your search and find him watching you. Your panties are hooked on one of his fingers and he twirls them around, a crooked and beautiful smile on his face. You reach for the material only to have Jaehyun jerk it out of your reach.

“Jaehyun,” You whine. “Give it back. I can’t walk around today without anything on under this skirt.” You reach for them again and find Jaehyun’s chest pressed against yours, his mouth right in front of your mouth.

“I’m trying to ask you out, Y/N.” Jaehyun loops an arm around you. “So, are you doing anything else today?”

You wiggle a bit closer to him until the front of you is pressed entirely against Jaehyun’s front. “I was planning to go downtown to the museum today to do a bit of searching for inspiration for a new project I’m working on. Wanna come with me? Grab a bite to eat and waste a few hours at the museum?”

“Or I could be your inspiration?” Jaehyun suggests. “Take me back to your place, and, uh, draw me like one of your French girls.”

“I thought you said you were asking me out?” You push at his shoulder and laugh, take a step back and snatch your panties from his hand. As you slip them back up your legs, you say, “Asking me back to my place so we can have sex again isn’t exactly a date.”

Jaehyun brushes his fingers through his hair. The way his eyes move over your body sends a bolt of arousal right to your core. But you push that feeling down and turn your back on him so you can fix your hair in the grimy mirror over the janitor’s sink.

You catch him watching you in the reflection.

“Why don’t you put some actual clothes on, Mr. Nude Model?” You avert your gaze. “Imagine what the gossip would be like on campus if everyone found out the sweet librarian with the dimples was actually a nude model who fucked art students in the janitor’s closet?”

“Just one art student.” He steps up behind you and kisses your cheek. “How about we go to the museum, get some ice cream and head to your place? Or we can go to mine? We don’t have to have sex I just want to spend time with you and this was fantastic, I was just really horny after having your eyes on me for hours. I would’ve liked to have done this properly. Asked you out on a date, swept you off your feet with my charms, gone on a few more dates and slowly gotten to the point where we have a romantic first time together. Not like this, we’re doing it all out of order, but it’s good.”

You nod. “It’s good. Get dressed.”

As Jaehyun pulls his clothes out of his bag and puts them back on, he transforms from the nude Adonis that he’d been under the art studio classroom’s lights and he becomes the sweet, innocent librarian you’ve known. A form-hiding sweater, khakis, a dimpled smile that just gives him the feel of a cherub.

You shake your head as you reach for his hand to leave the room. “I never would’ve guessed you looked like that under there.”

“But you like it?” Jaehyun opens the door, holding it open for you to walk through.

“Oh, I like it a lot.”

Jaehyun listens to you as you walk through the museum, his eyes hardly leaving your face as you tell him everything you know about the artists, their works, the materials, techniques, etc. He asks questions about your favorite works, why they’re your favorite, and he listens so attentively to your answers that it almost embarrasses you.

You spend hours wandering through the museum, passing through the different ages, hundreds and hundreds of years of art. Jaehyun doesn’t complain or seem to grow bored of it (as a previous boyfriend had done when you brought him along). Jaehyun cracks jokes, shares his thoughts, but he does it all in a way that makes you admire him even more than before.

And soon the day is growing late, the sun slants through the windows of the museum at a lower angle, painting the walls the burnished orange of sunset, so you leave the museum and head to grab ice cream.

Jaehyun insists on paying (even when you insist that you’re a modern individual who can pay for yourself. What you don’t say is that, if he’d gone to the extreme of doing some nude modeling to make a bit of cash, as all nude volunteers for the art department are paid handsomely for their time, then why should he spend that amount of cash on buying you ice cream?).

You take your ice cream cones and sit down at this long countertop, Jaehyun right beside you, so that when he turns, his knee knocks lightly into yours.

He smiles.

You try not to let it all get to you too much. This warm feeling. Warm and bubbly and ridiculously giddy as Jaehyun reaches out and wipes at a bite of ice cream at the corner of your mouth. You can’t let him know how you’re already super into him, that when he smiles at you, you feel your heart beat harder.

And after you finish your ice cream, after even the sweet taste of it has faded from your tongue while the two of you sit there and talk the time away, you really should be getting home. The streets outside the ice cream shop have grown dark, streetlights casting puddles of yellow-white on the sidewalks, and a cool breeze flutters the edges of your skirt.

At the bus stop that leads back to campus, Jaehyun hesitates. Your apartment is only a few blocks further.

“Come back with me.” You tug on his hand. “Come to my apartment.”

“I was joking about heading back to your place earlier,” Jaehyun days, and for a split second, your heart falls. But then he continues, “We don’t have to if you’re only doing this because of what I said.”

You shake your head. “I want you to. Come on. Spend the night with me.”

Jaehyun doesn’t argue. He lets you lead him along by the hand, your fingers laced loosely together, comfortably, and it’s such a beautiful night so you take your time walking back.

He doesn’t let go of your hand for a moment, his thumb runs over your knuckles, traces shapes and characters on the back of your hand. Even when you reach your apartment, he doesn’t let go. He follows you inside and takes a look around at the plain white walls, the tall windows overlooking the street below, your messy mattress, stacks of books, records, art supplies. Canvases stack out from a wall covered in tacked-up sketches, a table covered in textile projects, a shelf of pottery, small sculptures and other completed projects.

And there’s a large poster of Klimt’s The Kiss beside your bed. Jaehyun’s eyes seem drawn to that.

“What’s that one?” He asks, taking a few steps closer, and you still don’t let his hand slip away. You follow him.

“The Kiss.” You could tell him more. More about the artist, about the style, the history and everything. But you don’t.

You tentatively touch his cheek and Jaehyun turns into your touch. He leans in to kiss you at the same moment that you lean in to him. Your kiss isn’t quite like the one Klimt painted, but as you kiss Jaehyun, as his hands slide around your body to deepen the embrace, you do feel as if the world explodes into gold and swirls.

You feel that feeling that you’ve always gotten from this work.

You move backward toward your bed, and fall backwards onto the mattress, Jaehyun landing on top of you, but holding himself up, still kissing you.

This goes on for a few minutes until Jaehyun moves to sit up, but you tug him back down.

“Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” He promises. “I just don’t want you to feel like we have to have sex. Again.”

You appreciate him trying to make sure you’re in this for the right reasons. Which you are. You’ve been lusting and crushing on Jaehyun for months now, and you’ve finally got him just as he’s got you. You’re adults, you like each other, you’ve already had sex once today, and there’s nothing to stop you but yourselves.

“I want you, Jaehyun. That’s the only reason. There’s no pressure, just my own desire because when I’m in front of you like I am right now, I just want more.” You reach for the bottom edge of his sweater and slip your fingers underneath.

“God, alright then.”

Jaehyun pulls his sweater off, casting it to the side. The rest of his clothes follow, and you make quick work of getting rid of yours before you pull him back down into you.

Jaehyun fits over you so well. Your bodies slot together like it’s meant to be. Lips find lips, hands in each other’s hair, he rocks his hips against you, letting the arousal you’re both feeling truly take hold as you grow wetter and he grows harder.

Everything somehow feels more intense now than it did in the closet earlier. As if the setting, the new depth of emotions after spending almost the entire day together, has affected you both.

Just Jaehyun humping you has you buzzing with energy. Your nipples peak, and Jaehyun takes notice, lowering his mouth to get them wet, to take his time to see your tits and massage them in his hands. His cock sliding through your wetness, gliding over your clit again and again, teasing your entrance.

It’s all so much.

“Jaehyun.” His name falls from your lips like a mantra. Repeatedly, in varying volumes and tones, but always in pleasure. “I need you.”

“Do you have a condom? I want to cum inside you.” He licks and bites at your chest, moving down your stomach toward your pussy. But then he sits up, his fingers move between your legs instead, pressing his middle finger inside you as he swirls his thumb against your clit. “Do you have one?”

You only manage a nod, too afraid to open your mouth because you just might start making noises that you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of hearing just yet. You can’t let him know how much just a bit of kissing and humping has done to you.

You fling a hand toward a small table beside the bed, and Jaehyun slides away from you for a moment. You throw an arm over your eyes and hear as he pulls open the drawer and roots through it.

And then he’s back, there’s the sound of the packaging tearing open, and you open your eyes to watch Jaehyun roll the condom down his cock.

In the light streaming through your windows, he looks godly again, a perfectly sculpted marble man brought to life at the hands of an artist.

You can’t help but reach out to touch him, trailing your fingers down his chest and over his abs, all the way down his abdomen until your fingers close around the base of his penis, and you stroke your hand over him once and then again.

Jaehyun’s breath comes out unsteadily, and he suddenly grabs your legs, pushing them high up your chest, putting your pussy on display as easy access for him.

“Ready?”

“Yes, please, Jaehyun!” Your voice comes out as more of a whine than you’d intended, but Jaehyun doesn’t seem to mind.

He pushes into you smoothly and pumps into you, unstopping.

The angle is fantastic, you feel like he’s touching every part of you at once, especially when he slides one of his hands all the way down the length of your legs, leaving both of your ankles in just one hand, and he places his thumb over your clit.

You clutch at the sheets of your bed, reach for the pillow, reach for Jaehyun himself. He fucks into you slower as he moves your legs just right, hooked carefully over his shoulders as he leans down to sloppily kiss you, licking the taste of your moans straight from your lips.

You swear you can feel him in your stomach, you can feel his cock hitting the inside of you, feel it against your thighs where they’re pressed to your belly, and you wonder, if you looked down, would you see his cock bulging your belly out with each thrust?

You try to wrap your arms around him, needing him closer and deeper, needing to feel so full that you think you could burst. You splay your hands over his back and scrape your nails lightly over his skin.

Jaehyun groans, thrusting in somehow even deeper, and his teeth drag you bottom lip. His thumb circles your clit, and he moves faster again, the sound of his hips against your ass claps through your studio apartment, and you can’t hold back your moans at all anymore, not as your orgasm rises up and overwhelms you.

You feel like the world is burning, you drag your nails down Jaehyun’s back, surely leaving twin marks, like shredded wings on his skin. Jaehyun bites down on the juncture of your neck and your shoulder, his hips hard against yours as he presses as deep as he can be, emptying his load into the condom.

“Oh my god,” his voice is muffled against your skin. “I love…” The rest of his words are muffled, but you’re too far gone to even register what he may or may not have said.

Your vision goes hazy and you feel Jaehyun pulling out, leaving you with a bizarre empty feeling after he’d filled you so well. You almost wish he’d left off the condom. It would have been so nice to feel him bare inside of you.

His gently moves your legs from over his shoulders as he stands up off the bed and walks away.

Your legs fall down to the bed and you curl up on your side, your insides still quaking in the aftermath of that orgasm. Sleepiness falls over you in waves, and you can’t even prop your eyes open for long enough to see if Jaehyun even comes back to bed.

It’s hours later when you wake.

The apartment is still dark, the clock on your bedside table shows that it’s a little after three in the morning, and it produces enough light that when you roll over, you can just see the silhouette of Jaehyun asleep beside you.

His face is smushed into the pillow as he’s sleeping on his stomach, his hair is a mess and his eyelashes cast long shadows down his cheeks. He looks beautiful still and the artist’s part of your soul longs to preserve this moment. The lighting, the relaxed softness of his face, everything.

His hand rests between your pillow and his, and you reach for it, lacing your fingers with his.

Even in sleep, Jaehyun squeezes your hand. He murmurs something that never quite makes its way to being complete words.

But you get the idea.

You fall asleep again a moment later, comfortably, peacefully, happily.

a/n: based on the message “Jaehyun but as a nude model for art class and one day he just happened to model for the class his crush is in”

so this follows the basics of the idea I’ve had from the start, but the initial idea was going to turn out to be a much longer fic, and I just don’t have the time/concentration to be able to do that right now. Hope you all enjoyed it! If you did, please reblog (sharing is caring), like, and/or let me know what you thought about it

[jojotier]

prodigal son, denied. 

(SPOILERS for ch197 onward in the manga for Koito’s backstory)

Before Heinojou joined the navy he had wanted to be an artist.

Heinojou had drawn plenty as a child, being easy-going and mild in temperament, but it wasn’t to be the focus of his studies. Heiji remembered having to be severe with the boy a few times, when he grew too absorbed in doodling petals and branches on the back of completed notebook paper instead of moving on to the next subject- but as he grew, he drew less and less. When he was accepted to the navy, he had stopped drawing entirely, dedicating himself fully to his military career.

Or so Heiji thought. He must have continued his art in secret because among the scarce items that had been delivered along with Heinojou’s waterlogged corpse was a sleek black sketchbook of European make.

For years, Heiji kept it underneath the altar, away from prying eyes and the gaze of Heinojou’s photograph. Brushing past it while dusting the dark wood of the cabinet, for those same years, Heiji had resisted the urge to slip the thin book out and open its stained cover. It was an artifact of a time that Heiji had not been privy to as his father; a secret that had been taken to his grave and delivered back with effusive, impersonal apologies.

Heiji tried to ignore its presence as best he could, telling himself that opening it could come when the pain wasn’t so raw. Telling himself that opening it would merely be digging salt into a wound that was only now beginning to scab over on the sides, years after. Loss did nothing to temper the fire in his blood, and it was that fire that licked along the edges of the hole where his oldest son had left, cauterizing it open. It was a void that would never fill, and therefore, the sketchbook must also never open.

But if he leaned too close, even beneath the cloying floral scent of incense he lit, there was the faintest breath of salt and gunpowder. It was a deceptively familiar scent- the scent of Heiji’s own fleet, riding through calm waters as he sat down to clean out his weapon. The last scents that Heinojou would have been wrapped in, underneath the overwhelming stench of iron blood.

It was the closest that Heiji would ever be to knowing his son’s last thoughts. That was the reason why, with the murmurings of a coming war scratching outside the closed window and Russian affairs to sift through outside the room, Heiji’s resolve wilted away.

Heiji remained in the room long after he was supposed to depart to meet his son for breakfast, cradling the ebony binding in his hands. The wooden floor grew harsh under his knees and the paper was sharp against the calluses of his fingers, but he was unable to stop himself from opening the sketchbook. The first page was adorned with several offhand lines of words- Heinojou’s name, a reminder to figure out a telegram system, and a few half-formed poetic thoughts that trailed off into the elegant bow of barren branches.

Thumbing the edge of a thin page, he turned, looking over the cross-hatched detail of several sceneries blending and crashing together like waves on the sea- the port of Kagoshima bled into the countryside of their misty summer home in Kuchinoerabu, rising high over the rolling waves of the deck of Heinojou’s ship.

From there, the pages held pencil sketches, then charcoal drawings, and then images shaded with the remnants of gunpowder when his son had seemingly run out of writing utensils. Heinojou had always had an eye for the natural world and he applied it here, even to the unnatural. Man-made metal and wooden structures were cut out of the mantle of the earth, encrusted with natural life and jewels of gleaming eyes from animal life. Memories were printed in layers on top of the imagined.

After a page occupied with a stylized sketch of a toddler Otonoshin, unshaded and shaky, the pages were wholly blank.

That drawing of his younger brother had been the last thing Heinojou drew; a plain set of lines, filled only with a few dried droplets of what Heiji hoped was saltwater and a single drip of rust. Heiji felt along the sharp edge of the page and found it stained similarly with the brown of dried blood- a papercut, the smallest and most human of Heinojou’s injuries on the day when he was pumped full of lead.

Heiji knew there was nothing beyond that point, but it didn’t stop him from fingering through the rest of the pages in the thin book; carefully trying to unstick the clumps where water had glued bunches of pages together in twos, in threes, with stains left from the ink running from upper pages and the diluted spatter of nitroglycerin. There was nothing more to see.

For a moment, Heiji mourned how cruel it was, to feel so close to Heinojou only after his death.

For another moment more, Heiji wondered what would have happened- how things might have been different if the night before Heinojou had been deployed, if when Heinojou had come to him, shaken, and told him I was not built for this, for fighting like this, for pulling the trigger- if instead of reassuring him with talk of honor, of things becoming easier with time, he had pressed this blank sketchbook into his hands and said, I’ll love you regardless.

Heinojou would have lived, possibly. A blight on Heiji’s reputation, a living monument to Heiji’s weakness for a sneering public- but alive. A light to the toddler he had died thinking about, the family that he had missed terribly even in the final moments when his breath bubbled away.

The scabbed over edges of his heart were split and yet Heiji knew, through the sharp ache, that he did not regret it.

Heiji sat in silence, staring at the back cover that threatened to fall through his fingers in brittle chunks. The whisper of the sliding door and the soft voice of his wife finally broke through the quiet many minutes later. “Heiji-don,” Hideko gently said. She waited for Heiji to wipe his eyes and close the book, setting it back in its hiding place before she curtly continued, “Will you please come and eat with us?”

It wasn’t much of a family meal with one seat empty, but Heiji shook his head to clear out the errant thought. He’d lost the right to think as such, especially after all these years. “... Of course,” Heiji said instead. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“There’s no need for apologies.” She shut her eyes and turned, leaving. Heiji sighed. He didn’t want to push, but… it had also been a long time since either of them acknowledged Heinojou outside of this room. Glancing again at the photograph of Heinojou’s smiling face, he stood and left.

Placing a hand on her arm once he caught up to her, he silently asked her to stop. Hideko did, but before he could say anything he was interrupted by heavy footsteps barreling down the hall. Heiji turned his attention to find a woman, hands shaking around where they balled up in the fabric of her sash around a piece of paper.

“Koito-don-” The woman said, bowing at the waist.

“Iruka-san,” Heiji acknowledged, “what happened?”

The maid was breathing heavily as she said, “The young master- he’s disappeared.” The color from her face faded as quickly as the breath in Heiji’s lungs. “The only thing he left was-”

Shaky black scrawl spilled onto a scrap of tea-stained paper. Heiji didn’t so much as read the letter as the words war and readiness branded his eyes, threatening ruin with a single line.

Otonoshin was trying to go to war.

Heiji needed to leave for the nearest recruitment office. It didn’t matter that there were dozens nearby, or that Otonoshin was likely lost somewhere among the hordes of recruits anywhere in the city-

Beside him, Hideko gave a gentle keen of heartbreak behind the hand sealing her mouth. She had been frailer, lately, as their loss continued to gain water weight from years’ worth of storms and grief; her voice passed through the gaps in her fingers in a high, barely suppressed cry.

His wife had already suffered unnecessarily from his failures as a father. That was the reason why, despite the fear and anger and litany of too soon, it’s too soon burning in his veins, Heiji numbly made his way to their telephone and made some calls. Rather than leave it up to chance and his own running, Otonoshin would be returned by the end of the hour, squirming and shouting in the hands of a seventh division officer. All Otonoshin would know was Heiji’s distant reprimand, devoid of either anger or warmth, drained onto Heinojou’s art.

Koito’s time would come soon enough.

Tsurumi, as always, was there at Heiji’s call with kind suggestions and a steady hand.

[kuroharada]

Uhm. Hi. Are the matchups open? I was hoping if I could have a Death Note matchup.. If you don't mind and if it's open.

A demigirl biromantic INFP. I'm quite short, and I have dark hair and eyes, as well as.... Olive skin. I love dark academia aesthetics and styles, but I also like other aesthetics. I tend to wear coats and jackets since I easily get cold.

In terms of personality, I'm a bit of a distant person, I don't have that many friends since I tend to keep to myself and/or the friends present in the area I'm in. That or it's because I'm just too cautious of the people around me. I tend to answer questions cryptically or vaguely. With my friends and loved ones, I'm a lowkey caring person. The person you can joke around with, the person you can vent to, the person you can trust with your secrets since I forget them anyways. I always have my head in the clouds, and I'm a detail oriented person.

I love to read fanfics, novels, and poems. Sometimes, I tend to quote from the literature I've read whenever I find the perfect opportunity to do so. I also love to write, dance, draw, sing... I love the arts. Speaking of, I like to build book forts, I tend to analyze the books I've read as well as the characters, I have a fondness for the fairytale villains rather than the princesses and heroes. In terms of music, I don't prefer one genre. I usually listen to whatever catches my interest, whether classical or metal rock. I also have a fondness for movies like Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland, Pan's Labyrinth, and movies like that.

Thank you and please take your time.

( They’re almost always open, no worries! )

DEATH NOTE

MALE

I ship you with...

L

He absolutely loves your analytical nature and enjoys nothing more than sitting down and trading theories with you. He views you as someone of great intelligence - not comparable to his own, but still intelligent enough to be considered a companion. He is very intrigued by your interest in abstract stories and has many questions about how you feel about such things, viewing you as something of an enigma for that very reason.

He understands your distant nature, being of the same sort himself. He isn’t exactly what you’d call “high maintenance”, but he does come pretty close sometimes. He understands your need to be cautious and encourages you to keep that up, seeing as he is also like that. He views the similarities between the two of you as things he can bond with you on, but he would never do the same thing with anyone that wasn’t you. He’s taken a great liking to you and he believes you’ve done the same thing in return.

He has tons of questions about the books you read and why you like them. He’s almost always analyzing you in some way or another, but not in a bad way. He’s never not analyzing things, really, and his interest in you provides him with a reason to keep inquiring. You’ll occasionally hear him whisper something under his breath - typically something along the lines of some sort of compliment (calling you cute for instance) or saying that he loves you. He doesn’t say it too loudly most of the time, seeing it as something he shouldn’t have to say out loud, but he truly does love you. He won’t ever let Kira get you, even if he dies protecting you.

FEMALE

I ship you with...

NAOMI MISORA

She would be absolutely ecstatic if you would allow her the honor of being someone you’re close with. She can understand your cautious nature, but she assures you that there is no need to be cautious around her. She isn’t going to judge you if you are and she is quite understanding as a general rule. If you’ll let her be close, she’s very supportive of you at all times and she’s very kind to you. She appreciates being able to really talk to you, but asks that you not be distant to her. She loves you and that means she wants you to be open with her.

She is also totally into your reading hobby, taking special interest in whatever it is that happens to have caught your attention at any given moment. She thinks that it’s really sweet when you quote poetry and whatnot to her, and she usually will give you a little kiss in return. She loves discussing theories and such with you and is interested in the more abstract forms of art herself. She hopes that you’ll let her sit beside you, cuddled up to your side as the two of you simply watch one of your favorite movies or something. She greatly enjoys sharing things with you, especially experiences.

She doesn’t share your interest in villains, but she’s interested in hearing why you like them. She just really likes to listen to you talk in general, taking great interest and really paying attention to the words you feel comfortable sharing with her. She hopes that you’ll share the things you create with her and she offers great praise when you do, though she will also offer criticism should you request it from her. She’s very attentive to you and she frequently says that she loves you more than anything in the world. She is constantly terrified that Kira may get you, so she also encourages you to lay low and not unnecessarily give out your name. 

[theobligatedklutz]

I read tj and cyrus broke up and I love the idea of artsy TJ!could you do some hcs on that?

Oh my god, I can't tell you how many hcs I have about TJ being artistically inclined:

He doesn't really fully get into visual arts until high school where he realizes there's so much more to school than just playing basketball and treacherous advanced math.

TJ has a habit of ripping corners off of pages from his notebook and doodling little sketches of Cyrus doing mundane things like eating babytaters or staring out a window. Cyrus starts collecting them in a Mason jar. The jar sits on a bookshelf above his study.

There's this one time Cyrus hears the sound of something hitting his window and cracks it open to take a look outside. There's a gigantic chalk sketch of him in the driveway. Little details like his eyes and the little birth mark on his face are so delicately drawn out with chalk that Cyrus is visibly shook. TJ is standing beside it with chalky hands (there's a smear of white chalk on his forehead and nose for God's sake), holding a handful of pebbles. TJ waves up at him like the goof he is and Cyrus fully loses it, he can't form coherent thoughts for a good few days. That's how Cyrus discovers that TJ is an unchangeable endearing dumb sap that he could never leave because he is the best thing that's ever happened to Cyrus.

Andi and TJ are practically best friends already by the time she finds out that he is incredibly talented in the art department.

TJ meets Walker in one of Andi's art shows at SAVA and he teaches TJ how to make caricatures. They become really good friends through their love for making cartoony art sketches.

Cue him making caricatures for Marty, Jonah and the GHC -- Cyrus keeps his framed and nailed to the wall above his bed.

Marty and Jonah manage to lose theirs' in a matter of a days and then annoy TJ into making them another one. TJ complains about it but secretly, it makes him really happy that they actually like his art.

Buffy gets a special one, fully coloured and depicting her lifting weights, all buff (it's an apology caricature, he still has a lot to make up for). Buffy keeps her's in her locker but doesn't comment on the fact so she doesn't have to unnecessarily compliment TJ but TJ gets it everytime Buffy smiles at the inside of her locker door.

TJ not only knows the keyboard/piano but he is also a casual guitar player. Cyrus only found out when TJ brought out his guitar for their camping trip on Friday the thirteenth (see hc here).

TJ doesn't sing much and Cyrus has to coerce him with kisses. It's totally worth it.

TJ has this soft raspy voice like smack dab between Hozier and James Gabriel Koegh (Vance Joy). Sometimes, Cyrus will get lucky enough to hear it when TJ is singing a song under his breath.

[lets-talk-appella]

The Trouble with Prom Movies

Bechloe Week 2019: High School

Summary: Beca hates everything about prom. That is, everything except the prom queen. 

For @rejection-isnt-failure, who asked for a dialogue prompt like this SEVERAL months ago. Sorry it took me so long, fam.

Word Count: 2.5k

Rating: T

AO3 and FFN

“I really hate you for this.”

“You love me.”

“Um, no. Guess again.”

“Aren’t you having fun?”

“Pouring lemon juice on an open wound would be more fun and less painful,” Beca deadpanned.

Jesse frowned down at her. “Hey, don’t be mean.”

Beca rolled her eyes but tried to contain her bad mood. “Sorry, I know, senior prom, we gotta enjoy.”

Jesse had some ridiculous movie-based fantasy about their senior prom, and how they just had to go together because “Can you even say you were in high school if you didn’t go to senior prom?” Which was completely ridiculous, because of course high school revolved around much more than just a senior prom. But, still, he was her best friend and she knew how much movies (and, therefore, every teen ritual enclosed in such movies) meant to him, so there they were. At prom. Beca’s worst nightmare, basically.

“Exactly,” Jesse said triumphantly, then winced. “Can you stop stepping on my feet?”

Beca muttered an apology under her breath. It wasn’t her fault that heels were both uncomfortable to walk and dance in.

She and Jesse revolved on the spot, dancing with one another awkwardly in the middle of an overcrowded gymnasium. Yep, rather than shelling out for a nice prom venue, their school had enough in the budget to host prom in the gym. Not that Beca really cared where prom was held, but it was stiflingly warm, packed with hundreds of almost-adults dancing badly in their fancy prom clothes. Streamers hung on the walls, and a poorly-done cardboard reproduction of the Eiffel Tower stood in the corner, wrapped in white lights, a constant reminder of the cliché Paris theme. An arch swooped over the main entrance of the gym, next to which stood a somewhat decent photo area with a backdrop of Paris that the art kids had painted.

Overall, Beca had to admit it wasn’t bad, but still. It was prom. And she had to wear a black dress that she kind of hated in order to match Jesse’s black tux.

And she couldn’t stop her eyes from wandering to that familiar red hair, which, even from halfway across the gym, stood out clearly from the crowd. Chloe wore her Prom Queen’s crown as she danced gracefully with her Prom King, Chicago. Because of course the Golden Couple would win Prom King and Queen; she was the cheerleading captain and he was the quarterback.

It was gross and predictable and Beca really wished it didn’t bother her as much as it did.

But she had AP Biology with Chloe and had talked with her a few times, and, well, Beca has eyes. So seeing Chloe with Chicago—instead of, say, with her—bothered her a lot.

“Sorry, Beca,” Jesse muttered, following her line of sight.

Beca sighed. She’d told Jesse all about Chloe (only after he badgered her endlessly for the details). “This blows.”

Jesse nodded understandingly. “As your lesbro, I truly apologize.”

“Yeah, well, since neither of us could go with who we really want…” Beca shrugged.

Jesse’s expression clouded and he looked over Beca’s shoulder, where she knew Aubrey Posen and her date danced.

“You two don’t have a lot in common, you know?” Beca asked, bringing Jesse’s attention back on her. “She’s, like, the entire prom committee.”

Dancing this close to Jesse, she could see the way his eyebrows drew together just slightly. “Oh yeah?” he asked. “Like you and Chloe have anything in common.”

Well, he got her there.

“Whatever,” she grumbled.

“Good comeback,” he smiled, and carefully guided her into a dip just as the slow song ended. Maybe it should have been weird dancing with Jesse to a slow song, but it really wasn’t. They’d known each other since they were kids living next door to each other; they’d been in worse situations.

(Thankfully, Beca had realized she was gay before Jesse had tried to take her on any awkward dates, so they’d avoided that, at least.)

When Jesse pulled her back upright, she dropped her arms from around his shoulders and stepped away. “Okay dude, I’m gonna go get some punch. Hopefully someone bothered to spike it with—”

She cut off abruptly, spotting something that made her stomach clench.

“Uh, Earth to Beca?” Jesse called, waving his hand in front of her face.

She batted his arm down with an impatient sound. “Dude, look.”

“What?” Jesse asked, craning his neck to look around the gym. “Are Amy and Bumper making out again? Because I just ate dinner before this and—”

“No! Gross! I think Chloe and Chicago are fighting,” Beca said, trying to point subtly in their direction. “Be cool.”

“What?” he whipped around and stared, most definitely not subtly.

“Jesse!”

“Oooh, trouble in paradise for the happy couple,” Jesse said as they watched Chloe and Chicago, who were clearly engaged in a heated argument. Chloe stood back from him, leaning forward and pointing a manicured nail at his chest as she ranted, her expression angry. He only glared back at her.

“She looks upset,” Beca said, concerned. She wished she could hear the argument, but they were too far away and the music (who picked Katy Perry?) was too loud.

Jesse shrugged. “Maybe she’s mad because he didn’t get her a corsage to match the dress.”

“Shut up,” Beca hissed, not looking away from Chloe for a second. “Oh shit, look…”

Chloe had whirled on the spot, her light blue dress fluttering and billowing with the motion. She stormed away from Chicago, pushed her way through the throng of students, and made her way under the archway and out of the gym. Chicago only glared after her, then turned to make his way to the punch.

When Beca glanced over, Jesse was already watching her.

It was probably a bad idea. She and Chloe only sort of knew each other, and her crush would be better kept in check instead of fed, but no one else seemed to have noticed the fight, and no one was bothering to check on Chloe, so...

“Should I…?”

“Go!” Jesse urged, waving her away. “Ain’t nothing gonna stop my girl!”

Beca was already moving toward the exit. “Not your girl!” she called over her shoulder, weaving through the crowd.

“Look at my girl!” Jesse shouted as Beca ducked (unnecessarily) under the arch leaving the gym.

Outside the gym, Beca looked around frantically, head swiveling in search of one beautiful redhead with a blue dress. Chloe could have gone anywhere; the library, the bathroom, the auditorium… or simply outside to the front of the school. Beca saw her, illuminated by the exterior building lights, standing on the other side of the glass doors of the main entrance.

Pausing only to grab her leather jacket from coat-check (the sophomore boy running it looked like a little kid and still tried to hit on her), Beca followed Chloe and went outside.

It was chilly for a night in April, especially compared to the heatwave that was the gym. Thankfully, Chloe hadn’t gotten far and was sitting on the main stairs leading up to the building’s entrance, her back to Beca as she looked over the main parking lot.

Abruptly, Beca felt awkward. This wasn’t really her place. She barely knew Chloe. She should probably have just gone back inside, because clearly, Chloe wanted to be left alone.

But...

Beca walked forward, offering Chloe a small smile when she looked over her shoulder at the sound of her approach. “Can I join you?” she asked when she got closer.

Chloe only hesitated for a second before nodding, and Beca took that as a good sign. Being careful of her dress, she perched herself on the step next to Chloe, noticing with some concern that Chloe was shivering; she hadn’t remembered to bring a coat.

“You cold?” Beca asked, then immediately wanted to sink into the steps and disappear. That’s why she was shivering, duh.

“I’m good,” Chloe shrugged, not looking at her.

“Oookayyy,” Beca drew out, feeling more awkward by the second. “So… prom not going well?”

Chloe huffed a little laugh, but Beca knew it wasn’t because what she’d said was funny. “No, not really,” Chloe muttered, drawing her knees up to her chest and staring out over the parking lot. “He’s kind of a dick.”

Beca wanted to roll her eyes but managed to refrain despite the annoyance flaring in her chest. “Then why do you date him?”

Chloe looked over at her, resting her cheek on her knees so that she was folded into a little ball. Beca couldn’t help noticing how beautiful Chloe looked, her hair in an elegant up-do that would have taken Beca hours and no small amount of swearing to achieve.

“I don’t,” Chloe said flatly. “Everyone just thinks we’re together ‘cuz it’s what happens in the movies.”

“Oh.” Beca suddenly felt foolish. And she felt a little happier, because that raised her opinion of Chloe, like, a lot.

And she kind of wanted to smack Jesse upside the head. Stupid movies.

Chloe smiled a little sadly, then shivered again. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, trying to warm herself up a little, and Beca had to resist the urge to offer to do that for her. That would probably be super weird of her.

So, instead, Beca said, “Here, take my jacket.”

“I told you I’m not cold,” Chloe managed, just in time for another violent shiver to rip through her body.

Beca quirked an eyebrow.

“Fine,” Chloe huffed, reaching for Beca’s leather jacket and draping it over her shoulders. “Thank you,” she said with good grace.

“‘Course,” Beca replied awkwardly, trying to ignore how cold she was now.

Chloe tilted her head, looking at her strangely. “Where’s Jesse? Isn’t he your date?”

“Dude, no way!” Beca burst out. Honestly, she was surprised that Chloe even knew Jesse’s name, much less thought they were together. “He’s just my friend.”

“Oh,” Chloe said, frowning a little.

Beca shifted uncomfortably on the steps, looking away from Chloe and down at her own hands. “Besides, I… I play for the other team, you know?”

She didn’t know what compelled her to come out like this. It was the first time she’d said it to anyone other than her group of friends, and her stomach fluttered with butterflies.

She risked looking back over at Chloe, who looked surprised and had a strange expression on her face.

“Is that a problem?” Beca asked, a little more defensively than she’d intended.

“Not at all,” Chloe breathed, her eyes widening in assurance. “In fact, I—”

“Chloe!”

Beca nearly tumbled down the steps, as startled as she was by Chicago’s harsh voice. As it was, she twisted around to look at him so quickly her neck cracked.

Chloe sighed deeply and rose from the steps, turning slowly to face him. Beca scrambled to her feet as well, struggling a little in her heels.

“What are you doing out here?” Chicago spat, glaring at Chloe. “And what’s that ugly thing you’re wearing?”

“If you mean my jacket—” Beca started angrily, then stopped as soon as Chicago’s dark eyes seared into her. She wasn’t scared of him, exactly, but he was taller than her and a lot bigger. She hesitated.

Just then, one of the main doors burst open again and Jesse came tumbling outside, eyes wild. Relief shone in his face when he saw Beca, only for him to tense when he realized Chicago was between him and her. It made Beca feel better, having him here, but she didn’t want him to get hurt.

“Go away, weirdo. This isn’t any of your business,” Chicago said, glancing back at him before looking at Chloe again. “I asked what you’re doing.”

“I’m getting away from you,” Chloe fired back angrily.

“What?” Chicago’s eyes narrowed.

“You’ve been acting like a pig all night.”

“Oh, ‘cuz… ‘cuz of what I said back there?” Chicago stepped closer, his voice turning soft. His eyes flicked to Beca and away, as if he was hoping she’d go away. “Come on, babe… it’s prom night.”

Chloe stilled dangerously. Beca wasn’t sure she was even breathing.

Chicago shrugged, putting on what he probably thought was a winning smile. “Don’t you wanna… you know… for prom? It’s prom, babe. We gotta. Come back to my house and I can show you—”

Chloe stepped back, her face filled with disgust. “I’ve never wanted anything less in my entire life. Get away from me.”

Chicago’s face contorted into an ugly glare. “You little… you’re gonna regret that.”

He moved toward Chloe, and both Beca and Jesse lunged for him; Chloe got there first. She slapped him across the face so hard that the noise of it echoed around them. Chicago staggered backward, groaning and clutching his cheek.

Beca could only stare at Chloe, beyond impressed.

But Chloe wasn't done. “Stay away from me,” she said, her voice deathly cold. “I mean it.”

With one more glare at her, his cheek flaming red from her slap, Chicago stomped away, headed for the football field to nurse his shattered pride.

“Yeah, go kick a football or something!” Jesse shouted after him. Beca rolled her eyes.

Chloe was still standing ramrod straight, staring in the direction Chicago had disappeared in. Beca tentatively moved closer to her.

“That was pretty badass,” she said, bringing Chloe’s attention to her. “Your hand okay?”

Chloe looked down at her palm as if she’d forgotten what she’d done. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Good,” Beca breathed, then shifted her weight. “So, uh, you were saying something. Earlier,” she added when Chloe looked confused.

Chloe’s expression cleared. “Oh, um, right,” she muttered, glancing toward Jesse.

Thankfully, Jesse got the hint; with an extremely not-subtle thumbs up to Beca, he turned and went back inside.

“Sorry about him,” Beca felt the need to apologize. “He’s seen too many movies.”

The ghost of a smile played around Chloe’s lips. “It’s okay. Um, I was gonna say… well, would you wanna, maybe, study together sometime?”

Beca blinked. As far as she knew, Chloe was a straight-A student. “For bio?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“But aren’t you, like, really good at that? Do you need a tutor? Because I’m really not—”

“Beca.”

“—good at biology at all, I’m only taking the AP class because—”

“Beca!” Chloe laughed, putting her hands up. “I’m trying to ask you on a date,” she said softly, shaking her head with what Beca really, really hoped was affection and not pity for her obtuseness.

“Oh!” Beca said. “Oh, you mean, like—with me.”

“Yes, with you. A study… date. Thing. A date,” Chloe finished, her cheeks turning a little pink.

Beca wanted to cheer, or maybe run back into the prom and shout to everyone: “Chloe Beale asked me out! Take that, losers!” But that would be immature and would probably make Chloe change her mind. So she took a deep breath. “I—yeah! Definitely! Let’s do it. That would be cool.”

“Totes. Um, I’ll text you?”

“Sure, let me get my…” Beca trailed off, realizing her phone is in her jacket pocket. The jacket that Chloe still had draped over her.

“I got it,” Chloe said, pulling her phone out of a dress pocket and wiggling her eyebrows. “My dress has pockets,” she said unnecessarily, handing the phone to Beca.

Beca didn’t know what to say to that, so instead she punched her number into Chloe’s phone and handed it back. “Do you wanna, maybe… go dance inside?” she asked, drawing courage from deep within.

“Definitely,” Chloe smiled, and Beca wanted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

They walked back into the school, dropping Beca’s jacket at coat-check again before re-entering the sweltering gym. Beca looked around for Jesse, so she could explain why he no longer has a dance partner.

“He’s there,” Chloe said, pointing to a corner, where Jesse and—Beca did a double-take—Aubrey were dancing together slowly.

Beca couldn’t contain the smile that broke over her face, and she led Chloe onto the dance floor.

Hmm. Maybe there’s something to movie-type endings after all.

[trojansblr]

#FightOn! (02) | ot7

Summary: The University of Southern California is a prestigious school - only the best or the richest can attend. That means there will be a lot of spoiled brats. Two groups start colliding and the entire college shift alongside them. What will happen when sparks starts to flow between them? Drama will certainly be there.

Pairing: BTS with -eventually- female characters

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut (in the future), CollegeAU!

A/N: Don’t forget that if you want to be part of this fic, you can! Just send us an ask with a couple of infos about yourself like your name, age, your major, some personality and physical traits and we’ll find you a spot in USC! 

The Characters • Day 1 •  Day 2  • Day 3 

After getting out of Jimin's room, Deo walked in a fast pace back to her dorm. Hyori had been texting her non-stop and she was sure she wasn't sleeping yet. It wasn't like her at all. She would want to know every last bit of detail of what had happened in that room and Deo would innocently tell her only to regret it the second right after when she saw Hyori's smirk. The smaller girl already knew what was going through her roommate's mind and she wasn't in the mood for sharing. Not that Hyori minded. She had a whole elaborated plan on her mind already, focused on making her friend see the supposed love she had for the art boy. It was obvious to Hyori so it should be like that to everyone else. 

The next morning, when Deo woke up Hyori was already long gone. She was used to that by now. Every morning the girl would wake up a couple of hours earlier to do some jogging. That and to watch the sunrise as she took some sips from her first coffee of the day. Nearby, a cafeteria started beeping signaling coffee was ready to be served and Jin finished taking the last slices of bacon off the pan onto his plate when a sleepy Carolina swooped it right from his hand with a lazy smile spread across her face.

"Hey!!!" Jin screamed at her. "That's my breakfast!" He said making Carolina let out a chuckle. 

"Why do you need two plates then?" She asked already sitting down, fork in hand ready to dig in. 

"Sure thing captain hook." Jin laughed as he noticed she had her right eye closed, sleepiness and the brightness that came from the window being too much to handle at the moment. 

"Arrrgggh!" She pulled up her sleeve long enough to cover up one of her hands and she let out the pirate scream. 

The two were a handful to deal with. Especially in the morning. And their friends were well aware of it. Considering everything, it would be very hard for any of the two to find such a good housemate as they were to each other. Jin was a quirky guy to say the least and Carolina was even worse so joining the two together you would get the most random interactions ever. Including Jin's curiousness for bras and their engineering, to Carolina's habit of enjoying to walk around naked and meditating at 3 am with her head hanging from the couch and her legs pointed up to the ceiling. Nonetheless, they were great friends. 

Another person that was always fun to be around was Hoseok. He was the life of the party. No, saying that is insulting his whole persona. He was the life of everything. Everywhere he went, people knew and appreciated him and he was always happy. When he wasn’t, chaos was about to happen. But today, he woke up feeling more excited than usual. He was going to skip his first period to have breakfast with his sister. 

They had this tradition for a long time. As a kid, Hoseok considered his sister his best friend, she was a bit older than he was yes, but he knew there was no one else in the world that would get him like she does. When she flew to America to study fashion design he was the one who took it the hardest. So after the first year of college she flew back to Korea and convinced the entire family to move back with her when she returned for her second year. Ever since then, on the second Wednesday of the month, Hoseok and his sister would always have breakfast on a cafe nearby. The distance was exactly the same from the house to it and from the University.

"Jaz~~" Hoseok called out as soon as he laid eyes on his sister that was sitting in one of the corner booths. He was always divided between the sunny window and the comfort of the wall sofa. "No sun today huh?" He asked, after giving her a kiss on the forehead as a hello. 

"Honestly, since we moved here I can't even remember how pale I used to be." She joked. She loved heat and the beaches. 

As soon as the waitress spotted Hoseok sitting at the booth, she started walking in their direction, although she could already guess what they would order. "Good morning Peg, how are you?" Hobi greeted her with a huge smile. 

"Hey Hun." She smiled to the boy. "Is it the usual or you're up for a change?" 

"The same, as always." Jazmine, that used to be Jiwoo decided to change her name as she opened her first store 'Jazzy'. She conquered many achievements but now she had a new challenge and she wanted her brother to help. 

"These here," she said, pulling up a big pile of papers off of her bag and onto the table "I need you to spread them around campus." She bat her eyelashes unnecessarily, Hoseok was already picking up one of the papers and examining it. 'Model needed for fashion show' 

"Can I model?" He asked excited. He was proud of his sister's clothesline. 

"Of course you can. I already did one just for you, but I need more. Boys and girls and since you're so..." she searched for the right word "popular around campus, I'm sure you'll find the right people." 

"I'll do my best!" He placed his arm up to his head, saluting as if she was his captain. The food came right after and they started digging into their plates, not having space for conversation. The only sounds pronounced were "hums" and "woow" from how good the food tasted. 

Carolina was tired of hearing her tummy growl despite the hotel breakfast like she had just a couple hours ago so it was time to take a little pause from her soundtrack class. The teacher wasn't teaching anything new to her so an hour or so away wouldn't hurt much. She could already take this path with her eyes closed. Turning left, go down two flights and then left again and she was at the bar. She ordered her usual chocolate cupcake and climbed up the stairs again to her usual broom closet. 

"What? Do you need a broom?" The guy asked as soon as she opened the door, arching his brow as he exhaled the smoke from his cigarette. 

"Yes, it's witching hours already" Carolina said with a smirk on her face. 

"That's not the usual look for a witch. I guess times were good to your kind." 

"Should I presume you're the artist behind all those drawings?" Carolina asked pointing to her drawings and its correspondence. 

"Yeah I am. I was just finishing up answering you." He says with a smirk more guessing than saying but by the intrigued look on Carolina's face he was more than certain that he was right. 

"I think this is the part where I ask your name then." She said in a cool tone but too intrigued on the inside. 

"I'm Ben. Ben Hayes. And you?" He put out his hand for her to shake. 

"Carolina," She crossed her arms, eyeing him up. "Jones" 

"And what are you doing here Carolina Jones? Shouldn't you be in class?" He said in a mocking tone.

"Shouldn't you?" She raised her eyebrow. 

The truth was that Ben indeed had somewhere to be. He had been hired for a couple of weeks now to be the substitute for Miss Finning, the professor of Arts and History. He already knew he was not going to be hired. He had been jumping schools ever since he finished his degree but he never got to maintain his position. He started off in Liverpool, his hometown, then moved to London, travelled to the USA and taught in Michigan, Chicago, Houston and now LA. So he was more than certain he wasn't to stay here either. 

"I don't think that's any of your business is it?" 

"Then I could say the same, Ben Hayes." She winked at him but she was still standing still. 

"But are you going to stand there or sit down? I won't bite unless you ask me to." He winked back with his blue-ish/grey-ish eyes, tapping on one of the boxes next to him. 

"You shouldn't go around saying such things you know..." She sat down. "Someone might ask you to... someday" she says more in a whisper. 

"And I'll be more than ready to attend to their needs, trust me." His british accent rang through her ears, making her almost have goosebumps. "But do you want to stay here or do you wanna go somewhere else? I have a break between classes and I could use your company." 

"I don't know... How am I gonna be sure that your 'more than ready' is indeed reliable? Cause you know, I can't just skip being here in peace for something that isn't true..." Carolina teased. 

"Do you need a test drive then?"

"I don't ever say no to free testing." Ben's arm that was already wrapped around her, pulled her closer and Carolina took no time to react and grab him by the collarbone of his shirt, kissing him hard. The kiss was sloppy and full of tension and their hands were touching everywhere they could to ease their hunger. 

"Shall we?" He asked with a smirk on his face, parting from the kiss and nodding towards the door. 

Noon came pretty soon and the sun was hitting hard, summer was starting to creep in through spring and everyone was starting to gather they lunches, including Hyori. She only had time to have a sandwich with Hoseok before grabbing her book and finding a good spot in the lounge area. She sat down in a table of four, the only one that was available and took her books out. She was too nervous for her own liking, she tried to take down some notes from the class she just had but it was in vain, her mind was rushing through a million of things, making thousands of scenarios in her head. 

"Hey Hyori, have you been here long?" Jeonghan sits down besides Hyori, with a smile on his face, scaring her a little. She was too busy in her thoughts to even notice him coming. 

"Hi Jeonghan! No, I just got here!" She smiles to him, trying not to show how nervous she really is. 

"Should we start studying our biology? I-I mean just biology! Not ours, everyone's." Jeonghan says and then laughs embarrassed. She laughs alongside him, noticing his cute smile. He was also very nervous. 

"Sure, let's do it! Do you usually study just by reading or do you like to talk about it?" 

"Talking. It gets stuck in my mind longer!"

"Same for me" Hyori giggles. "Before we start though I have a question…" This had been bugging her ever since the first text they exchanged. 

"What is it?" He tilts his head to the side, curious, as he stares at her. 

"You're pretty smart yourself… so why would you want to study with me?" She pauses for a moment and then continues, trying to explain herself better. "Don't take me wrong! I'm glad we're studying together!!" She adds, with a blush creeping up on her cheeks.

"I think it's pretty obvious... You are top of the class and I mean... you're very pretty so I just needed an excuse to talk to you." Just like her, he was super embarrassed but he wanted her to know what he really felt, even thought that meant he had to be a little awkward and upfront.

"You're shyer than I thought you would be" She laughs, trying to ease up the mood. "And thank you, if it means something I think very high of yourself too." A proud smile showed up in his face and his whole body warmed up.

"So if we're in a time of being honest... I think I should tell you I came here to do more than studying." He turns his body in his seat so that he is completely facing her. He was holding up his breath and he didn't even realized but he was a man on a mission now. He continued to lean in into her and he could already feel her breath when...

"Oh! There you are guys!" Asa, a cute pale boy with the brightest blue eyes is rushing up to then, holding his backpack just by one strap on his left shoulder. "I thought you did study sessions in the library!" He smiles, totally clueless of the situation that was going on. 

"Oh- Hi! Hm- Who…?" Hyori asked, breathless, while nervously looking between both boys.

"This is Asa. He's my roommate." Jeonghan says, with a big frown on his face. 

"Hi! I heard a lot from you Hyori!" Asa says as he sits down across the table from them and can't help but wink at the girl. 

"So are we studying or not?" Jeonghan asked, clearly upset that Hyori's attention was now divided. 

"Yes! Of course!" She opened her manual on the marked page. "Are you… from our class? I never saw you there." She eyed Asa.

"Oh no!" He said chuckling. "I heard from Jeong here you were giving lessons and I always wanted to know more about biology!" He said as honest as he could be, making Hyori open up a big smile. 

"Well you're always free to contact me, I love biology and I love teaching so…"

"I'll make sure to hold you to that! You will want to get rid of me in no time." He joked, making her laugh but before she could reassure him, Jeonghan spoke again. 

"Can we study? Some of us have exams to prepare for!" 

"I highly doubt it! And yes sorry-" She couldn't help but tease Asa one last time before turning to Jeonghan and squeezing his arm. "Ok, everyone on page 70?"

"Oh I don't have a book, can we share one?" Asa said sheepishly.

"Have mine, I can see from yours?" Jeonghan said to Hyori almost immediately throwing him his book. 

"Yes sure!" Hyori let a shy smile as she felt Jeonghan pull his chair closer to hers.

As it was usual on Wednesdays, Jimin and Taehyung would always eat together. This Wednesday it ended up being McDonald’s. They decided to do this every week ever since they moved into their dorms and realized neither one of them really knew how to cook. They would always order individual menus, but ended up having bites out of each other’s food; because Jimin’s wrap looked too good and fresh and because Tae’s bacon was just asking Jimin to take a huge bite.  

Right now, it was almost 4 in the afternoon and Jimin was going to have football practice. They were walking together in silence, they knew each other for too long to have to always keep a conversation; in some, they enjoyed the silence time they’d have from time to time. But Jimin kept sighing and Taehyung knew something was wrong, he was just making his friend hurt a little before giving him love.  

“I have a problem and I need to talk to you about it. Ask me what’s going on.” Jimin mostly cried, putting his full weight on Tae’s shoulder like he had just fainted.  

“Ahhh” Taehyung said in an annoyed tone, followed by a chuckled, before pushing his friend back to his place. “Just start talking! Why are you always like this?!”  

“Are you going to be a good friend or just complain?” He faked a pout before laughing right after, seeing Tae’s side look. “I’m nervous about the game this week. We have to win or we’ll drop down to 3rd place and that’s not nothing something we can afford right now... plus I have an exam of history of contemporary dance on Monday and I don’t think I’ll have time to study.”  

“Look... I don’t think you need to worry.” Taehyung started off confident but genuine. “You are a pretty good quarterback, that’s why they chose you to be it. You'll do just fine, don’t overthink about that. Your body will remember everything once you’re on the field you know?” He squeezed Jimin’s shoulder and then proceeded. “About the exam... I can help? I know a few things so maybe we can just revise it before you go to sleep? I can stay up and read it to you?” Taehyung would do anything to help Jimin, especially if it was about something he cared about. Even when he was little, he used to stood up to boys who tried to be mean to Jimin even if he was scared to death of them.  

“But what about the party?!”  

“What party?” Taehyung asked. Was there a party he wasn’t invited for?

“The volley’s team is playing home. I'm sure there’ll be a party even if they lose, which I doubt. It’s an easy game.” Jimin said, thinking of what Jungkook had said at lunch the day before. He was confident they would win the game by far. “If we go to the party we can’t study.”  

“Oh... It’ll be a pity if we lose the party, right?” Taehyung let an ‘huh?’ “Maybe... we can just not sleep and try to get all that history in your head?” He suggested but the look on his face wasn’t too confident. It wasn’t a party if they didn’t get completely hammered.  

“I’m screwed.” Jimin said after a few minutes of ponderation, letting out again another sigh. “Might as well go out with a bang, right?” He shrugged and they walked a bit more. But then the thought of his parents came to his mind and all the effort they had done for him, he couldn’t let them down and lose his scholarship. “Maybe I should find a job? To help my parents?”  

“You know you wouldn’t even be able to tend to your basic needs if you did that... you’re already all packed!” Taehyung said worried.  

Jimin’s family wasn’t loaded, but they’d always lived well. His dad worked as an accountant for many years now and he reached a point where he was making a lot of money, so much so that his mom even quitted her job. They even found a house in one of the nicest neighborhoods, that’s how him and Taehyung were friends, they were front neighbors and they would play every day. Them and Carolina, but she wasn’t very fond of Jimin and he never quite understood why. But a couple of years back, the company for whom Jimin’s dad worked had a crisis and they had to let go more than half of their employees. Luckily, Jimin’s dad wasn’t one of them but it was getting hard for him to sustain an entire family on his back. That was one of the reasons he had to stay on campus. That and because both him and Taehyung wanted to have the “full college experience”.  

“Did they tell you something? Maybe I could like find a job and help you out?”  

“Not really. I talked to my mom yesterday and she said my dad had been working late. They're threating to fire a couple of people so he’s been doing some extra hours to not be part of the ones who will be fired.” Jimin said in a sad tone that Taehyung picked up right away.  

“I’m sure your dad will be fine! He’s a good worker! And like I said, if you need me to help, I can help you. I'll look for some part times next to our dorm.” And he already knew Jimin wouldn’t be capable of ever asking him to but he would still look, just in case his friend needed help.  

“It’s ok Tae, but thank you.” Jimin squeezed his shoulder and that meant he was grateful for everything his friend would do for him. Taehyung gave him a sweet smile.  

They kept on walking, talking about some random things that would pop into their minds. That was until Jimin stopped on his track, furrowing his eyes as if he was trying to see someone and Taehyung did the same, trying to look in the same direction he was.  

“I know that girl…” Jimin trailed off. “Oh, that’s Jean from my class. Hey Jean!” He walked up to her, followed right after by Taehyung. She was leaning against a tree, a book in hand.  

“Oh hum… hey… Jimin.” She started off shy. She wasn’t even aware he knew of her existence.  

“Are you alone?” He asked and she simply nodded.  

“Oh is that Free?” Taehyung sneaked out of Jimin’s back, seeing the manga the girl was reading.  

“Yeah, I just started reading it.”  

“Woah!” He said excited. “I didn’t know there is a manga for it, I only know the anime.” Taehyung said while peaking over to see the pages.

“You should try it then, it’s even better than the anime for now.” She smiled politely to him.  

“I will!”  

“We’re headed to the field, wanna come?” Jimin said as he pulled his bag up his shoulder.  

“Oh no… thank you anyway!”  

“Well, I’ll see you in class then!” Jimin waved off, starting to walk back to the field.  

“Bye Jean!”  

“What are you going to do now?” Jimin asked, noticing they were just a couple of feet away from the field.  

“I’m going to lie down there.” Taehyung pointed towards the bleachers where a couple of cheerleaders were already sitting down. “Imma watch you play and I'll take some photos to remind you how great you look.”  

“Ah~~!” Jimin let out an overexaggerated sigh, his hands over his heart. “You are my best friend, you know that!”  

“I know, I'm the best.”  

The boys parted ways. Jimin went into the locker room to change into his uniform and Taehyung took out his camera, ready to take some shots. The cheerleaders were all gathered, sitting in a circle going over the routine for this game and he noticed Deo, from the night before. Their eyes met for a couple of seconds before she looked away, turning her attention to what some other girl was saying. Soon the boys got out of the facilities, helmets under their arms and walked straight to the coach. It didn’t take long for Taehyung to fall asleep. His tummy was still kinda full from lunch and the sun was just making everything better. He was warm and the hard wood from the bleachers didn’t seem so bad so he just laid down, taking up 5 spaces. He woke up a couple of hours later, with Jimin shaking him up, laughing hard. ‘Oh man, your forehead, no bandanas for you for a couple of days.’ And as soon as he touched his forehead, he hissed. Did he really had to keep his arm all over his face BUT miss his forehead, no luck.  

On the other side of the campus, the study session got a little bit calmer after Hyori started explaining everything the best way she could and Asa was trying his best to pay attention but it was hard. Even harder for Hyori, who kept on laughing at his jokes and interventions. Jeonghan was regretting ever telling his roommate about his plans for the afternoon but he couldn't just kick him out, at least not in front of Hyori. After a while, Hyori's phone kept on beeping and she just had to excuse herself from what she was teaching Jeonghan to take a look at it. 

"Guys, the study session is great and I wish I could stay more but it's getting late and I promised my friends I would have dinner with them…" She pouted a little. "You guys mind if I go?"

"Of course!" They both said at the same time.

"Kiri I'll be waiting for our next study session!" Asa says getting up, mimicking Hyori's movements. 

"Stop being annoying!" Jeonghan whispered to him, widening his eyes to Asa. 

"Please do!" She laughed to Asa, not even noticing Jeonghan's face. "It was really nice to meet you Asa. Thank you, you two for today, I had a good time" She smiled kindly to the both of them, giving a kiss in the cheek to each one of them. "Bye guys~ See you around!"

“Dude what the hell!” Jeonghan slapped his roommate’s head, annoyed that he ruined his little date.  

“What did I do?!” Asa scratched the place where he was hit, still looking at Hyori fade in the distance.  

Hyori was hugging her books so tight; she kept her eyes on the floor, overly excited by her study session and was trying her best to steady her breathing. She already knew she was going to get teased for being late, something she never did and always complained when Jungkook was. Her pace her face and she as a hole bumped into a tall boy that quickly apologize. She did the same.  

Namjoon kept on looking at her as she walked a little too fast. His heart tightened a bit, did he hurt her when they bumped into each other? He was so focused on going over his speech for debate club on his head that he didn’t even noticed where he was going. That and the fact that tonight’s debate was against Najma Aweys. She was this pretty girl who was majoring in English Lit and she caught his eyes ever since his first debate against another college. That was the moment he first noticed her.  

His dad was nagging his head for over a month now because the semester was almost over and he still didn’t have any extracurricular activities to add to his resume alongside his perfect record of attendance and grades. So tired of hearing him, he joined the debate club and the president was so impressed by his arguments that he was invited to join the regional contest.  

He remembers that day perfectly. He was so nervous he was afraid the sweat was going to be noticeable on his armpits since the air-conditioner wasn’t working and it was almost 38°C. Najma was wearing a soft blue flowy dress that fitted her curves perfectly and made her look almost like a princess but once she started talking and disarming her opponent, that was when it really hit him. He was crushing on her.  

“Hey Najma!” He waved at her as he saw her talking outside the debate club with her girlfriends. “Nice suit.” He winked as she smiled politely to him.  

“Hey Nam!” It was her nickname for him.  

He was too awkward to have a full conversation with her, the only thing he always managed to do was these small interactions. And to him, it was better than nothing. Jin would always tease him about having to make a move 'Dude if she has a nickname for you that means something. Who knows more about girls than me?’ and that would always make Carolina laugh and tease him about how even the clueless Tae was smoother than himself, the old timer.  

Hyori was now jogging. The café that was only a couple of minutes away from campus seemed like it was miles away and she was getting frustrated for being late. Even Jungkook was already there. She stopped when she saw the sign right around the corner and she turned it, all her friends were sitting outside, in a table that clearly wasn’t made for 5 people but they were all squeezing in to be together. Once they noticed her, everyone stopped talking just to pick it up right back, but now directed to her.  

“Oh look who finally decided to show up!”  

“There she is!”  

“Can we eat now? I’m starving!!”  

“Sorry I’m late!” Hyori said trying to catch her breath from all the jogging but still making her best to look normal.  

“And where have you been to be this late?” Jungkook put up his wrist tapping on it like he had a watch there and his left eyebrow was arched. This was the perfect moment for him to excuse himself from all the times he was late and nag Hyori.  

“None of your business.” The girl said taking a seat on the end of the table, right between Deo and Jimin.  

“Is everything ok?” Hoseok asked, honestly concerned.  

“What do you mean none of my business?” Jungkook stepped all over Hobi’s question. “I always have to tell you where I was!”  

“And that’s because you’re a child.” Deo teased, sticking her tongue out making Jungkook scoff and make some comment about not knowing why they were even friends. The only thing he wasn’t doing yet was pouting.  

“Jungkookie, we’re your best friends, stop being grumpy.” Jimin said, squeezing the boy’s shoulder.

“Everything is fine Hobi, just took me a while to get here.” Hyori smiled to the boy that was on the other end of the table, completely ignoring Jungkook.  

“Where were you then missy?” Deo asked again, since Hyori had managed to escape the question.  

“I was on the library studying! I lost track of time! Oh~” she looked around to the plates of some boys that were already ready to be ate. “What are you guys eating?  

“I ordered some fries! With cheese on top.” Hobi said proudly, looking at his dish.

“Pizza, but don’t- I need to know!” Deo whined.  

“Of course she wasn’t in the library” Jungkook rolled his eyes, joining Deo and folding his arms to give his sentence more impact. “No one loses track of time in a library.”  

Hyori gave Deo a knowing look that she understood right after. It meant ‘please shut up I’ll tell you everything at the dorms’. “Well that’s because you have no braincells.” she finally answered Jungkook. 

“And it depends on what you’re doing there.” Jimin teased.  

“Are you serious?” Jungkook pretended a hurt look. “Woah… I should find new friends.”  

“Oh stop you two! Let’s just eat!” Hobi said, tired of waiting to eat his chips that were getting cold.  

“She started it!” Jungkook whined, making everyone laugh.  

“It’s ok, I’ll ask for a round for us Gguk!” Jimin whispered to the boy.  

“Shut up virgin boy.” Hyori furrowed her eyebrows making Deo automatically spit her drink, not being able to control her laughter.  

“You’re going way too far, Lee!”  

“Guys!” Hobi and Jimin both said at the same time, tired of hearing them.  

“Ok kids, that’s enough.” Deo said standing up and pulling Hyori right behind her. “We’re going to order her food.”  

“Bring beer!”  

“Don’t forget my sprite!”  

“On it!” Hyori said winking to Hobi. Once they stepped inside the door Deo started asking a million questions.  

“So~~ you’ll tell me now or you’re going to make me suffer and wait until we get to the dorms?”  

“Please don't do a scandal, and I'll tell you better once we are at the dorms but basically I was with Jeonghan but a friend of his arrived and sat there with us and he was like the cutest” she emphasized a lot in the last word “I must have blushed like tons"

"You're still blushing, it looks like you ran a marathon" She chuckled, excited with her friend’s life. "But ok, serious face on but once we get to the dorms, you'll have to tell me everything!"

“I literally ran a marathon to get here!” They both laugh and the waiter finally comes.  

Hyori orders a plain burger with fries, she’s not very hungry. And after all she ran if she ate a lot she’d probably throw up. They pay the drinks and the food and the waiter informs them the food will only take a couple of minutes and he’ll bring it to the table. Once they step outside, Jimin shushes the other boys.  

"Oh yes, such nice weather here!" He says a little too loud, pretending nothing happened, but the girls were too smart not to notice their whispers.  

"What do you think of the weather Jungkook?" Deo asks Jungkook, arching her eyebrow to him. Next to him, Hobi was looking up to the clouds, almost whistling, making his best to avoid eye contact.  

“The weather?” His voice got up an octave. “Yup, super nice! We should go to the pool and uh… have a party?” His tone was nothing but confident and Deo couldn’t help but laugh at his silliness.  

“Oh~~ we should really go to the pool!” Jimin said now excited with the thought of a swim. “Let’s go after we eat!”  

“Ok cut the crap. The weather? Really?” Hyori said still standing up next to the table, one hand on her hip showing even more authority.  

“It is a nice weather.” Deo joked.  

Hyori arched her eyebrow and looked at Hoseok that immediately look everywhere but to her. “Hobi look at me.”  

“Hey don’t force eye contact like that! You weirdo!” Jungkook said but she ignored him.  

“Hum…” Hoseok trailed off, exchanging looks with the boys. “Sorry bro… basically there’s this new girl-”

He’s interrupted. “Dude what the fuck!” Jimin and Jungkook said at the same time and if it weren’t a desperate time, they would’ve high fived.  

“Jimin likes her, she’s one year older than him and her name is Sarah. That’s all I know.” He lowered his head in defeat and then turned to Jimin. “Sorry!”  

“DUDE BRO CODE!” Jimin said, frustrated.  

“Wow, we can’t even talk in peace now.” Jungkook shrugged.  

“Huh…” Deo started, “and you weren’t going to tell us!”  

“Sorry! I’m an honest guy!” Hobi said, putting a chip right in front of Jimin’s mouth that he just couldn’t refuse.  

“Oh please tell me all about her!” Hyori now sat down, waiting expectantly.  

“See! They can help!” Hoseok added.  

After that, Jimin was forced to spill all the details he had on the Sarah girl. He didn’t really know much but Hyori and Deo already were with their phones on their hands searching on social media for the girl. If she was majoring in Investigative Journalism, she had to have any form of social media, and if she did, they would find her. Jimin wouldn’t be able to hide the girl from them for a very long time and in a way he was glad Hobi spilled everything because although Jungkook loved a good gossip, he was terrible at getting information. By the end of the dinner, the girls already found out that Sarah was friends with one of the boys Hyori tutored and now it was only a matter of days until they started planning a super scheme to make her and Jimin talk. They were good friends like that.  

Jungkook was the first to abandon the hangout because he had practice and he, obviously, didn’t have his bag done to shower. Once he got to his floor, the smell of barbeque filled his nostrils and he wasn’t walking anymore, he was more like floating, following the amazing smell. He ended up in front of his own door. Once he opened it, he saw Yoongi and Namjoon eating.  

“Hey man.” Yoongi said once he noticed him.  

“You want some?” Namjoon asked, turning around in his chair to see Jungkook.

“The smell in the hall… amazing guys.” He chuckled. “Thanks, but I have to say no, I have practice in a few.”  

“This late?” Namjoon said already feeling sorry for the boy.  

“Are you sure you can handle going to practice on an empty stomach?” Yoongi asked. He didn’t hang much with Jungkook but he liked to have him as a roommate. He was quiet, clean and he liked the same type of food as him.  

“Yeah, we have a game Saturday and coach is going crazy with our practices. We’re even playing with the girls now.” He laughs lightly. “I ate like an hour ago. I’ll probably end up bringing something home.” He says turning to Yoongi that only nods.  

“With girls? Like… girls in mini shorts?” Namjoon says already excited, the thought of joining the team, running through his mind.  

“Wish it was that good bro.” Jungkook laughs dryly, tapping on his shoulder. “Most of them look like Hulk, they enter full beast mode.”  

“Oh… that must be- uh… Nevermind.” He turns back to his food.  

Yoongi couldn’t keep a straight face to Namjoon’s comment and laughed lightly. He heard rumors about a party and Jungkook confirmed it right away, inviting them to join after the game. They talked a little bit more about their crazy front door neighbor. It was an old lady, maybe in her 60’s and she acted like she was 20. Hell, she even lived near campus. Besides her, everyone in the building was a student. The new good story was that she was developing a crush on Namjoon. Every time she heard him leave the house, she would peek her head out of the door, with rolls on her hair and say ‘have a good day handsome’.

Jungkook excuses himself and goes inside his room, picking up his gym bag from the floor. He quickly shuffles through his clothes and picks up a random shirt and a pair of shorts, a towel and his flipflops. He crossed the living room, saying goodbye to the older boys that were finishing eating and left, towards the elevator.  

“Oh hey Jin.” Jungkook said once the elevator’s door opened, revealing his neighbor from the top floor.  

“Hey man, how are you?”  

“It’s been a while since I last saw you. Since the photoshoot...” He recalled the moment they were together for the last time. It was a photography class and Carolina had brought Jin and Taehyung to model. Jungkook ended up befriending both boys and took photos of them as well.  

“Ah~~” Jin lets out a satisfied sound, remembering that day as well. “It was fun and the shoots you took of me looked great.”  

“If you ever need new ones hit me up.” They reach the ground floor and both exit the elevator, walking side by side until they leave the building completely.  

“You have practice?” Jin asked, only now noticing Jungkook’s bag.  

“Yeah, it’s in a few.”  

“I can take you. I’m going out with a friend but it’s still early, I can drop you there.”  

“I won’t say no to that. If I had to walk all the way back to campus I doubt I'd be able to score.” He chuckles. They got inside the car and it took Jin a while to start it. “Is everything alright?”  

“Oh yeah, I'm just waiting for Carolina, she should be coming down any second. She has practice too.”  

‘Oh boy’ Jungkook thought to himself. Carolina only frowned when she saw him but before she could say anything Jin told her to get in or else they would be late. She had to get into the backseat, very reluctantly and once they got to campus, she quicken up her pace to not even have to talk with the so called virgin boy. He honestly didn’t mind, after the last time they were together, things went south really fast.  

The vibe was bugging Jin and he made a self-note to ask Carolina what had happened between the two but probably not today. He was going out with his friend Harry, a boy from his major that finished off last year but they maintained contact. If he didn’t get home very drunk, it wasn’t his friend Harry. But once he woke up, he would remember to ask.  

> Day 3 <