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archived-kin · 4 years ago

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simeon with a himbo boyfriend

note from kin: once again i am writing for the boys because this fandom doesn’t have nearly enough content for them, especially for Big and Beefy Men. let them be in dating sim fandoms too!!!!!! give them more content!!!!!

anyway i’ve made you an angel since i don’t want to have to think about the deeper repercussions of what simeon dating a human would be (i mean we all know what happened to lilith when she tried it)

fandom: obey me!

character(s): male!reader, simeon, luke, belphegor, beelzebub, asmodeus, satan, leviathan, mammon, lucifer, barbatos, diavolo, solomon

pairing(s): simeon/reader but it accidentally becomes everyone/simeon’s boyfriend at some point whoops (this ended up as a pretty big block of text as a result so please let me know if you have difficulty reading it so that i can try to format it better!)

warning(s): nope!

genre: fluff!!!! fluff everywhere!!!!!!!!!

simeon thinks you’re the cutest goddamn thing in all three realms

you may be six foot four inches of muscle but to him that is six foot four inches of ADORABLE

you’re very strong so he likes to just run and jump up at you from behind and wrap his arms around your neck because he knows you won’t be fazed by it (physically anyways, emotionally is another story)

the other angels always gasp when he does this in public because it’s so far from his usual ‘poised and elegant’ thing but how is simeon NOT supposed to climb all over you like a koala when you’re so big and huggable???

simeon just really loves jumping at you like that okay

because every time he does you’ll just pause for a second and look very confused as to why your back has suddenly gotten heavier, and then you’ll turn your head, and your smile and excited little ‘simeon!!’ is to DIE for

he has to be incredibly upfront with you about what he wants because otherwise you will not understand

he has to say, word for word, “i want to sleep in the same bed as you every day” before you actually realise that that’s what he meant

the whole exchange kind of went like this:

simeon, being sappy at like seven in the morning: “i want to wake up like this all the time from now on”

you: “??? do you want me to come lie down next to you before you wake up tomorrow morning?”

simeon: “no, for the whole night”

you: “you want to wake up like this for the whole night??”

simeon: [sighs]

he also often has to be the one taking charge when it comes to physical affection

like you’re always willing to give him hugs and carry him around and let him sleep sprawled out on your chest like a starfish and give him kisses but half the time simeon has to ask you because for some reason you just won’t do it on your own???

at one point simeon starts getting a little insecure that you don’t actually really like physical affection and are just going along with it for him

because he’s a sensible angel, he brings this up with you before jumping to conclusions

he was not prepared for you to reply that you always wait for him to confirm that he wants affection because you’re afraid that you’ll accidentally hurt him with your strength if you go for it by yourself

simeon doesn’t cry a lot but dear god did he come close that day

after that it’s just hand holding and hugs and forehead kisses galore from you and simeon couldn’t be happier

now, it’s time for a bit of backstory

you were created purely to fight during the big celestial war, which is why you are so Beefy and Stupid

the beefy is because they needed you to be both strong and intimidating, while the stupid is because they didn’t create you with anything but fist fighting in mind

during the war you were a force to be reckoned with because you could just run at and headbutt a demon and they’d immediately be flung straight out of the skies and back into the devildom

and, even better, this meant that you didn’t have to kill anyone! you could just punt them so hard that they’d be flung out of the realm where the battle’s taking place entirely

once the war was over though they didn’t really know what to do with you

you were basically just this giant baby who didn’t know how to do anything but war

so they just dumped you in a garden and told you to take care of the flowers

which was how simeon originally met you! he was taking a walk around the gardens and saw you crying over a tree that you accidentally snapped in half with your big clumsy hands

now, simeon wasn’t one to believe in love at first sight, but HOLY FUCK

if he hadn’t already been an angel in the celestial realm he’d have thought you were some divine being from the heavens

anyway long story short simeon consoled you and started helping you take care of the garden, taught you how to live a life in times of peace, spent entire nights just lying awake and thinking about your smile and your laugh and how warm your hands look to hold and how it would feel to hug you, and finally managed to confess to you without you misconstruing it as just a Friendly Act of Kindness, and now you two are the proud holders of the title Cutest Couple in The Universe

granted only asmo calls you two that but you’ll take it

speaking of asmo allow me to segue this to the rad exchange programme era

you get so sad when simeon tells you he’ll have to leave for a year

your face falls when he breaks the news and your voice is all lost and quiet when you ask, ‘does that mean i can’t see you?’

simeon is absolutely devastated

it’s like a thousand puppies and kittens are being murdered right in front of him

he nearly cries (when i say nearly i mean he does)

but he can’t back out of the exchange program now, and one year isn’t THAT much for beings that live for possibly forever, so in the end, giving you a giant hug and about a million kisses to make up for the ones you’ll miss over the coming year, simeon leaves for the devildom

he makes it about a month and a half without you before he starts getting all mopey

and you’re not doing much better up in the celestial realm

michael actually has to message simeon and ask him how to deal with you because you spend every day dejectedly shuffling around the gardens that you take care of and it’s making everyone sad just looking at you

simeon reads that message and immediately decides that either he’s going back to the celestial realm or you’re coming down to the devildom

the authorities are a little cautious about it because you’re one of the purest angels they have and they really don’t want you getting corrupted by demons

but simeon assures them that the few demons that you’ll actually be having contact with wouldn’t do that, and you’ll be under both his and lord diavolo’s protection

so you end up being allowed to join simeon in the devildom for his exchange year!!!

honestly with the way the two of you react when you see each other again you’d think you hadn’t seen each other in years

simeon runs up to you and jumps straight into your arms and you spin him around in a big hug and ahhhhhhhh it’s like a teen romance movie but with an actually compelling relationship

and so you move into his bedroom (because of course you’re still going to share one down here) and take up a temporary position as a gardener to take up time since you can’t really do school

pros: simeon now gets to see you every day again and you look very cute bustling around the devildom’s fancy gardens with a watering can and wheelbarrow. also he gets to watch you lift an entire shed and it’s the best thing he’s ever seen

cons: the others are all basically in love with you now as well

simeon’s torn between ‘why wouldn’t they be, he’s literally the most perfect being ever’ and ‘what the fuck, that’s MY boyfriend’

belphie likes you because you are similar to beel and you’re also warm and big and strong so he can take naps on you and you won’t be bothered in the slightest

one day simeon sees belphie just jump onto your back and start sleeping there while you’re crouched in the garden doing some weeding and he’s so stunned by the sheer audacity that he forgets to be mad about it

honestly you don’t really notice that belphie is sleeping on you until you go to get up and feel something move on your back

and then, being the dumb precious idiot you are, you just lie face first there on the lawn so that he can carry on sleeping without being disturbed

consequence: simeon nearly cries at your sweetness but is also incredibly jealous and belphie is now having Feelings that he didn’t sign up for

beel meanwhile isn’t sure how to feel about you at first because he kind of feels like you’re stealing his twin all the time, but then you make him your special candied fruits (from produce that you grew yourself) and he loves you from that point forward

also PLEASE share your workout routine with him he wants to know your secret

it turns out that you don’t really have a workout routine?? you were just made like that

though the constant exercise and heavy lifting and stuff you do as part of your daily garden-care routine (you take care of basically all of the gardens back in the celestial realm) helps as well

he’s a bit disappointed but he does like that you can pick him up without any effort

one time he asked if you were capable of it and without missing a beat you went ‘let’s find out!’ and straight up swept him off his feet

beel was fucking screaming on the inside but no can’t feel feelings that’s simeon’s boyfriend

meanwhile asmo… okay we all know the way asmo is

boy took one look at you and immediately started drooling (figuratively anyway. physically his jaw just dropped)

kudos to him though, he backs off with the flirting as soon as simeon informs everyone that you’re his partner

asmo may be the avatar of lust but he is no home wrecker (he still finds an excuse to hug you every time he sees you though because awooga, muscles)

(he does know his boundaries so simeon doesn’t mind too much)

asmo also very likes the fact that you have such a green thumb because it means you can grow the prettiest flowers and you’re always willing to trim him a few to use as accessories

at some point simeon accidentally eavesdrops in on a conversation between the two of you where you’re just gushing about what kind of flowers he likes and how you’re going to plant them everywhere in the devildom because you like it when he smiles when he sees them

CRITICAL HIT!!!!!

simeon is pretty sure he combusts on the spot, while asmo is just squealing

thus was the origin of the title ‘Cutest Couple in the Universe’

satan on the other hand is mostly disinterested in you at first

the two of you live in pretty different worlds even if you live within the a five minutes’ walk of each other. he prefers to stay locked up in his room or the library and just curl up with a good book or ten for hours on end, while you’re always outside, digging flower beds and pruning bushes and cleaning fences and walls and basically doing every other little bit of manual labour that none of the brothers could be bothered to do before

he does note that you’re pretty good at what you do but that’s about it

until one day

you’re just pottering about in the garden outside the house of lamentation doing your angelic gardener thing when the stray cat that satan’s secretly been feeding for the past month or so comes by for its usual afternoon meal

satan has the window overlooking the garden so he quickly spots its ginger fur as well as you staring directly at it, and he immediately panics because what if you scare it away with your intimidating stature???

(yes, part of the reason satan doesn’t acknowledge you before this is because he was kind of scared of you and your muscles that he heard could punt beings out of entire realms back in your hey-day)

so he quickly dumps his book (though not without carefully bookmarking his place first) and rushes down to the garden in hopes of salvaging the situation, only to find you lying face first on the grass once again, though this time it’s not his little brother on your back

it’s the cat, who is purring like a little motor and aggressively kneading its paws against your back

satan can’t even see your face in this moment but he still basically gets cupid-shot in the heart because this is the cutest thing he’s ever seen

he has to force himself to calm down for a bit before he approaches lest he get overexcited and accidentally incur simeon’s wrath in the process

anyway after that satan makes a beeline for you every time he sees you and learns that you are an Absolute Idiot, but it just makes him like you even more

if satan was intimidated by you at first though, levi is downright terrified

you look like you could snap him in half with a single punch

he doesn’t try to talk to you at all for the first few weeks because how could he possibly find common ground to talk to you about?? you probably hunt dragons and eat rocks or something in your spare time

it isn’t until satan brings you up one day and mentions that you are incredibly dumb of the ass and probably couldn’t hurt a fly even if you tried that levi even entertains the idea of befriending you

he’s still not making the first move though

but it turns out that he doesn’t have to! one day you just show up at his bedroom door holding a giant crate of his latest akuzon haul

turns it got dropped off at the local post office after traffic problems and you volunteered to go pick it up and bring it back

anyway levi thanks you and starts unpacking his stuff, expecting you to leave in silence, but then he looks over and sees you just standing in front of his tv and staring at it

he’d been playing some battle platformer to pass the time before you showed up, and while levi himself doesn’t consider it particularly remarkable, you’re absolutely fascinated

being a gardener in the celestial realm you’ve never really had experience with this kind of thing, and you’re even more tech-illiterate than simeon, so what you’re seeing is basically like magic to you

so levi takes it upon himself to teach you as much about the art of gaming as he can in the short span of the next four hours before simeon gets home from a meeting of some kind and you inevitably immediately run off to greet him

you learn the basics relatively quickly but you’re still pretty awful at it

levi loses count of the amount of times you’ve accidentally run right off the end of the platform and fallen to your death once it reaches thirty two

it’s pretty much the most he’s laughed in, like, forever

congratulations! you have gained a new member in your party! levi will now follow you to the ends of the earth because you are the first person he feels like he can just be totally at ease around without being judged at all and just have fun with

(once, after you leave another gaming session to go cuddle with your boyfriend in the garden, levi catches himself thinking that ‘it isn’t fair that simeon gets to date him’ and has to do some serious self assessment)

mammon meanwhile has none of the reverence for you that his brother does

the amount of times he’s tried to rope you into his money-making schemes (which never work because he fails to realise that you are incapable of doing anything malicious in the slightest) is honestly just embarrassing at this point

simeon has to step in more than a couple of times because honestly mammon could ask you for your wallet and you’d probably just give it to him without another thought

that being said your wallet wouldn’t be much use because you never have any money

you just don’t understand the concept of exchanging money for goods and/or services so you never see any need for it

that being said, simeon does give you some money every time you go out into town on your own because something will inevitably catch your eye and you’ll suddenly realise that you just cannot live without it

the thing is simeon spoils you ridiculously so he always gives you way more money than would be considered a reasonable allowance

which means all mammon has to do is tag along and ask you nicely and you’ll probably buy him anything he wants

he does this a couple of times but then stops because he actually starts feeling bad about it

something just doesn’t sit right with him when he’s walking around with a bunch of shiny new things you’ve bought him with money that was meant to be spent on you while the only thing you’ve bought of your own volition is a pack of chocolate lollipops shaped like rabbits to share with simeon and luke

he may be the demonic avatar of greed but even he has a line that he won’t cross

he makes up for it by buying you things instead

nothing too expensive (he’s still mammon after all), just little things like sweets or bulbs for flowers you haven’t tried planting yet or food colouring for you to use for your candied fruits

speaking of those candied fruits, guess who loves and would probably kill a man for them?

lucifer

man may not seem like it but he has a hell of a sweet tooth

there was a bit of tension between the two of you when you first met (well there was tension from lucifer anyway) because he’d never met you like he had simeon and luke and had no idea what you were like

plus he’d heard about how you’re everyone’s favourite now back in the celestial realm and the little piece of him that still misses his life as an angel is a little petty about it

but then he interacts with you more and he realises that that favouritism is absolutely deserved

he will not admit it but he has wondered what being carried by you would feel like on multiple occasions

figures out how to read you really well which isn’t much of an achievement when you wear every single feeling you have on your sleeve but it still brings him a bit of satisfaction when he notices something that simeon doesn’t

he may be a pridey mcprideface but he is willing to give up a bit of that pride by pretending he can’t carry something heavy so that he can watch you do it

simeon acts like he doesn’t notice this but he absolutely does and he doesn’t know if he should tease lucifer about it or whack him over the head with a newspaper for it

all that aside though, much like simeon, lucifer also thinks you’re just the cutest

he comes across you building a pillow fortress in the middle of the house of lamentation’s living room one day and is understandably like “what are you doing in my house and what are you doing with those pillows”

you explain very seriously that satan asked you for help in an apparently pre-arranged pillow fight with mammon and that every warrior needs a well-protected base of operations and offer to show him all the optimised battle features somehow recreated from nothing but cushions and blankets and chairs

lucifer’s heart goes d o k i d o k i

he also has experience with Big and Dumb men from dealing with both beel and diavolo (when the three of you are together it’s just himbo3) so the stupid doesn’t bother him much

speaking of diavolo (wow i am nailing all of these transitions from character to character look at me go)

this man is basically just a grown up golden retriever boy and you are a big gentle st. bernard so the two of you get along like a house on fire

you’ve seen how much this man gushes about lucifer. now imagine that times a thousand

that is how he talks about you

honestly sometimes you’d think HE’S the one dating you

simeon would probably get defensive if he didn’t get so much whiplash from their conversations about you

diavolo: “i must say, i never would have pinned [name] as being your type”

simeon, ready to Fucking Brawl: “excuse me?”

diavolo: “though i don’t blame you, have you seen his page in that book about the celestial war? the illustration does his true beauty no justice, of course, but it’s enchanting in and of itself. to be honest i’d have loved to have seen him in action during the war, i imagine it would have been quite breath-taking to see”

simeon: “…what”

barbatos is usually just there in the background during half of these exchanges and he has to seriously stiffen up his poker face to resist just bursting into laughter

the other half of the time the conversation is just simeon and diavolo going back and forth gushing about you

barbatos honestly dislikes you a bit at first

not for any personal faults of your own! it’s just that all your garden work + your very forgetful mind means that you’re often tracking dirt everywhere

it doesn’t help that diavolo keeps inviting you over to the castle for tea and a chat and half the time you leave these big footprints on the floor and he wants to cry because he just spent four hours mopping that

he mentions it to diavolo in passing at one point, who then passes the message on to simeon

barbatos kind of gets concerned for himself because he knows simeon does not take well to you being insulted (one time a demon at the r.a.d. called you an ‘unintelligent buffoon’ and he was ready to start a fist fight right then and there)

not that it was an insult, but you never know how love can blind you to reason

but simeon just assures him not to worry and tells you to remember to clean your shoes as well as changing clothes after doing some gardening

normally you’d forget being told these things within a few hours but simeon offers to give you a kiss every time you remember to do this so now you remember every single time you’re about to enter a building after doing some gardening

after that barbatos holds no ill will to you at all

he teaches you how to bake and is honestly so endeared by how clumsy you get in the kitchen

you knock an entire container of salt into the cake mix by accident because your hands are too big and you moved too fast and barbatos is just like 🥺

he low-key babies you even though he’s like an entire two heads shorter than you

you don’t mind though because getting babied by barbatos means you get given all sorts of cakes and sweets all the time

simeon isn’t sure how to feel about it but it doesn’t seem to be the patronising kind of babying (it’s more of an affectionate doting) so he lets it happen

what he doesn’t let happen is solomon’s relentless attempts to feed you his food

you are both too dumb and too nice to realise just how bad his cooking is, but simeon knows you have a sensitive stomach and are actually a pretty fussy eater - you just tend to stay quiet when something isn’t to your liking because you don’t want to complain

having had a sample of solomon’s food himself in the past, he knows that you’ll probably get sick eating it, and he doesn’t want you to be uncomfy so he refuses to let you try even a bite

it’s like he has a radar in his head that goes off every time solomon approaches you will a bowl of ‘noodle soup’ that looks more like something he’s fished out of a nuclear waste tank

solomon, when he’s not trying to indirectly poison you, is probably the guy you spend the most time with apart from simeon and luke

he’ll just hang around nearby with a spell book while you do your gardening and show you some neat little magic tricks every now and then

he tries to help with the gardening but he’s not exactly physically strong and he nearly breaks his back trying to lift a giant bag of compost

so he decides it’s probably better for him to just watch from afar

kind of wants to conduct an experiment to see just how much weight you can lift before you start getting tired

one time he sees you cut down a whole tree with one hard swat of your hand and just walk off carrying it over your shoulder and he has to take several deep breaths

luke knew you already, so not much changes while you’re in the devildom

he really wants to learn to make candied fruits the same way you do but he can never get the hang of boiling the sugar mixture to the right heat and consistency (plus he’s kind of scared of how hot it gets)

you like to just carry him around on your shoulders and while luke would normally bristle at being treated like a child, you act like this with nearly everyone

(once he sees you running around the garden with diavolo of all people perched on your shoulders, arms raised in the air like he’s on a rollercoaster ride, and he nearly passes out on the spot)

he seriously adores you and acts like a guard dog whenever he feels like any of the others are trying to take advantage of your dim-witted naïveté because NO demons are allowed to harm his big brother like that

he will also chase them off with a stick if he has to if they get too close because no being is allowed to even remotely try to disrupt your relationship with simeon

simeon himself is no fool, and he’s well aware of the effect you have on pretty much everyone you come across, but he trusts them because they’re his friends

besides (and he isn’t being cocky or anything), it’s not like the relationship you have with them even holds a candle to what you have with him

they’ve all known you for less than a year, he’s loved you for nearly two millennia

they might be allowed take naps on your back while you work or be carried about on your shoulders, but do they get to spend every night snuggled up in your arms, feeling your chest rise and fall with every breath you take? no, he doesn’t think so

in conclusion: one day himbos like you will probably take over the world with their big muscles and unwavering loyalty and clueless grins that could make anyone’s heart skip a beat, and simeon’s pretty sure he’d be okay with it

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yutahoes · 4 years ago

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Punch

pairing : bodyguard! Yuta Nakamoto x rich girl! Y/N

genre: angst, fluff, childhood friends au

word count: 2.7k words

summary : Yuta has his eyes on one girl. A person he cannot have.

a/n: based on this ask. you’ll probably guess that I intended this to be an angst fic so the ending is kinda off but I still hope you’ll like it anon.

“Can you please act like a proper lady?” the mother of the house scolded which only made Y/N sip her soup loudly. “Y/N!” she shouted, which made the younger girl flinch.

The oldest sighed loudly, closing his eyes. “Can’t we just enjoy our meal without shouting?” The younger girl snickered. “And Y/N, please listen to your mom. Act like a proper lady.”

She rolled her eyes at that. It’s not like she’s not an obedient child, she listens to what they want. She just hated how they put all this pressure on her to be a proper woman when it’s not what she wants. The disadvantage of being born into a rich family.

Her right wrapped fist hit the punching bag before her left fist hooked to hit its side. The door opened and she swings a punch, only to hit her childhood friend by the shoulder. “That is one weak punch.” Yuta teased, fixing the wrap of her right fist. “Why do you have to practice boxing when you have your bodyguard?” He whispered while fixing the other wrap. “I’d rather break all my bones than let someone lay a finger on you.”

She laughed. “For someone so strong and muscly, you have such a soft spot for me.” She swing another punch and he quickly dodged it. Yuta held her wrist, gently pulling her to the side but Y/N kept on coming to him with punches. She hit his shoulder once but he didn’t flinch making her repeat the punching.

Yuta stepped backward, laughing at her attempts. His foot reached the edge of the mat at the same time as Y/N landed a punch on his chest. He fell down on his back, dragging Y/N with him. The girl grinned, “I think I just knocked you down.”

She sounded so proud of herself that it’s comical. Yuta held both her arms, pushing her down to the mat. Him, hovering above her. “The first rule is to never put your guard down.” He can feel her warm breath against his lips. Her fruity smell arousing his senses. A loud heartbeat, he wasn’t sure if it was hers or his, ringing on his ears.

Yuta stood up as if he’s on fire. Y/N chuckling while lying down on the mat. He reached a hand to help her stand, letting go when she stood up. “Luckily, you will always be here for me.” The side of his lips curled up.

He didn’t know when it started. Maybe it started even before he realized it. Since his parents work with her family, he became her first friend. When she went to high school, she refused to have bodyguards following her every move so Yuta, being her classmate, became her personal bodyguard. The main reason why he bulked up.

But it should end now. He can’t be her personal bodyguard forever. Because from the little girl he first met when they were six years old, Y/N had grown to be a pretty woman. And he’s just a guy. A guy who is attracted to the person he needed to guard.

-----

“I’m sorry,” Y/N said, holding her shoes while running outside their mansion and into the car. Yuta laughed, closing the door behind him then entering the driver’s seat. “Is mom mad?”

He shook his head, adjusting the rearview mirror to watch if she’s comfortable in her seat. She was putting on her sandals, the skirt of her dress hiking up her thigh that made him cough. “If she asks, just tell her your piano class ended late.”

“But I don’t have piano classes.”

“Exactly.”

The girl smiled. This was one of the things she liked about hanging out with Yuta. Her parents believe him more than her and he’s good at making up excuses.

It’s not her fault that she enjoyed watching the boxing match on TV and she forgot about the party that her mom kept on reminding her. Honestly, she would rather just stay at home and practice her boxing skills rather than stand in that posh party and act like her mom’s Barbie doll. Why is this the fate of a chaebol’s daughter?

The car stopped at the entrance of a posh hotel, the valet already opening the door for her. “Are you coming up after parking the car?” she asked but Yuta just shook his head while reminding her to keep her slippers on the side so he can hide them in the trunk. “What if I get bored?”

Yuta chuckled. “I’ll be drinking coffee in the lobby.” She grinned before getting out of the car and closing the door behind her.

The elevator ride is boring already but when she came inside the venue, the party made her yawn. Her mom scolded her for arriving late then smiling at her friends which she greeted with a fake smile on her face. She introduced her to one bachelor after another, obnoxious jerks that she knew since she’s a kid. “Didn’t I told you to wear makeup?” Her mom scolded and she hissed, closing her eyes. She’s pissed off that she’s hungry and her feet are aching real bad. She just wanted to go home.

Maybe she can make a run for it and go to Yuta in the lobby.

But her mom held her arm, whispering that she should stop being a brat. It wasn’t until her dad said that they should go home since he’s almost drunk that a smile crept on her lips. She almost hurried outside the hotel, grinning when Yuta opened the door for her. “You look like you had fun.”

She rolled her eyes at that, “I almost died of boredom.” He chuckled before she got inside the car, Yuta opening the front door for Y/N’s dad.

The car was quiet that surprised him. Normally, her mom will keep on scolding her for her behavior at the party. Maybe she was being obedient today. “Yuta, your dad told me about your family leaving.” He saw movement from the rearview mirror and shrugged it. “Let me know if you need anything.” Yuta nodded, thanking the older man.

“We know some doctors in Japan. Maybe we can help.” The older woman from the backseat claimed but Yuta just shook his head. He already feels bad about his family moving so suddenly, he’ll feel worse if he let them help his ailing grandmother. This was a decision that his parents had been pondering for a while and when their employer agreed to let them go back to Japan, he can’t say no.

The car stopped in front of their mansion, the couple getting out of the car but the girl refused to move and even closed the door of the car. She was glaring at Yuta, arms crossed in front of her chest. “Why didn’t you tell me that you’re leaving?”

Yuta sighed. “I can’t find the right timing to tell you.” She rolled her eyes once again. “I’m sorry but grandma is already old and she wants us to go back to Japan.”

“Can’t you stay?”

“I can’t, Y/N.” He hissed. “My parents are already old. They need me more.”

The girl pursed her lips and he cautiously met her eyes from the rearview mirror. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Already?” Yuta nodded. The sooner, the better. “Morning?” Again, he nodded. Y/N pouted, squinting her eyes at him. “Can you wake me up before you leave?”

He smiled, laughing while he turned to her. “You can wake up by yourself.” But she shook her head. “I’ll wake you up tomorrow. Promise.” She grinned, even repeating that he needed to wake her up before leaving the car.

Yuta sighed, leaning in his seat while taking a silver chain from inside his pocket. His thumb tracing the heart pendant. This was supposed to be his gift for her but seeing as how the other guys from wealthy families gave her diamonds and expensive things, he hid it for months. A knock on the window startled him, hastily putting the necklace in his pocket. He rolled down the window to reveal his dad, smiling at him. “I’ll just park the car.”

He waited for him outside the mansion as he returned the keys, closing their door in the process. “You know you can stay if you want.” His dad started that made Yuta shake his head. It was his decision to come with them. He can’t stay here and be away from them. They needed him. “I’m sorry, Yuta.”

“What for, dad?”

“I should have worked harder and maybe our family is wealthier.” He claimed that surprised the younger guy. His dad is thinking about these things? “You wouldn’t have a problem loving her.”

A smile crept on Yuta’s face. Of course, they know about it. Everyone does. Except her.

“It was your mom who found out. You even worked part-time jobs just to get her a present and I felt bad.” Yuta shook his head. They’re the parents he wished for. He doesn’t want anything to change. “Did you at least tell her your feelings?”

Once again, he shook his head. “It’s just a one-sided crush, dad.” The older tapped his shoulder. “This will pass.” But even he had a hard time believing the words coming out of his own mouth.

He promised to wake her up and although he’s in front of her room, he can’t have the courage to knock on the door and tell her that they’re leaving. It’s just a crush. He kept on telling himself. This will pass. With a heavy sigh, he put down the necklace on the floor and went downstairs.

“Did you wake her up?” Yuta smiled, shaking his head. "That girl, really." The older woman was about to leave when the younger stopped her, saying that it's fine. His mom stared at him in worry.

Yuta went inside the cab while her parents thanked the other couple. This is it, he thought. His goodbye to her. His thumb grazed against her smiling photo as his phone wallpaper. His parents both looked at him when they went inside the car, asking if he's alright and he nodded then closed his phone.

As the car started moving away from the mansion, his phone lit up with her name. He's a coward. He shouldn't be her bodyguard. He closed the phone, removing his sim card and breaking it in half.

Yuta's goodbye to her. The love of his life.

The last few years were so good to Yuta. His uncle sent him to a university in Tokyo where he took a course in business administration and start a small business of his own. He met a lot of good people, nice girls from his line of work but sometimes he would trail to thoughts of her. Her smile, her eyes.

Whenever winter comes, he would think of her grinning excitedly at the thought of snow. When spring comes, he finds himself smiling at the cherry blossoms. Wanting her to see them with her own two eyes. Whenever summer comes, he wished she’s here with him and eating delicious foods at festivals. When it’s autumn, he would dream of them walking under the shedding trees and holding each other’s hands. Then the cycle repeats itself.

He missed her more as time pass.

Can he even see her again? Why can’t he fully say goodbye to his feelings for her?

“I heard there are pretty girls at the party. We should definitely check it out.” One of his business partners claimed, referring to a party happening to a famous hotel in Tokyo. “Maybe this is your chance to forget about that girl.”

Maybe it is. He should focus on forgetting about her. Maybe this time, he can finally say goodbye to the thoughts of her.

Surprisingly the more he stayed at the party, the more he was reminded of her. Is this how it feels like being the ‘Barbie doll’? Just standing, smiling, and greeting people when you want to go home and just rest. Seeing how some creepy rich old men were walking to where younger girls are, he thought that these chaebol’s daughters should really have a bodyguard of their own. How is she? Did she find another bodyguard?

Yuta excused himself outside to get some breath of fresh air. This is dangerous, he kept on thinking about her. He’s failing his mission. “Y/N!” someone called that made him turn to the owner of the voice. A guy in simple shirt and jeans, very different from the semi-formal attire in the party, was looking around the garden. “Y/N, your mom is going to kill me.”

He really said her name, didn’t he? Before he can walk to where he is, he heard a small sound behind the bushes then some movement. Curious, he peeked behind only to get punched in the face. Hard. “Oh shit, I’m sorry.” Is he hurt that much? Why is he seeing her? “Yuta?”

“Y/N!” the sound got closer that made her pull him to hide behind the bushes.

“What are you…?” She put a hand over her mouth to cover his voice. Their distance so close that he can feel her warmth and the fruity smell that he always associated with her. A loud heartbeat ringing in his ears but now, he’s sure that it was his.

When the guy went inside the party, Y/N breathed hard in relief. Her head lay on Yuta’s shoulder, catching her breath. “That was so close.”

He lightly pushed her, moving to the side to create a distance from the two of them. “What were you doing?”

“Hiding.” she said with a grin. “He’s going to return me to mom and introduce me to some Japanese hotshot." he rolled her eyes while fixing her skirt. "I don't even know how to speak Japanese, I just passed class because…" She lightly glanced at him, her eyes widening in surprise. "Your lip is bleeding."

Yuta touched his bottom lip, a bright red tint appearing on his thumb. "Maybe because of your punch." She repeatedly apologized, handing him her handkerchief. "Have you been practicing your punches?"

"I'm training to be a boxer to join the Olympics."

"Seriously?"

The girl squinted her eyes at him. "I'm stuck with that lanky guy who can't even land a punch. How am I supposed to protect myself?"

Yuta laughed then pulled her down in an attempt to hide her from the guy looking for her. "Why are you stuck with that guy anyways? Your dad knew better."

"Well, my bodyguard left me without even saying goodbye when he promised me..."

"I'm sorry." Yuta whispered. "Saying goodbye is harder than staying with you." He breathed heavily. "I'm falling deeper for the girl I'm supposed to protect. I'm scared I might hurt you." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

She rolled her eyes at that. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I'm a nobody and you're way out of my league, Y/N."

"You're stupid, Yuta. I didn't even sleep that night and waited for you to knock on the door that morning." She lightly punched his shoulder, earning a yelp from him. Tears were streaming from her eyes that startled him. "I even went to Osaka to look for you."

He held her cheeks, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” He mumbled. “I can’t get you out of my mind as well.” He held her in his arms, her necklace hanging loosely from her neck. He traced the heart pendant, smiling at her. “It looks good on you.”

She punched his shoulder another time, surprising Yuta. “Don’t hide from me again. I’ll kill you, Yuta.”

The guy rubbed the spot she just punched, “I don’t think I can be your bodyguard anymore. Let me just guard your heart instead.” Another punch and he just chuckled, pulling her in his arms again.

Yuta smiled. Mission failed.

He really can’t say goodbye to the love of his life.

#yuta #yuta nakamoto #nakamoto yuta #yuta angst #yuta nakamoto angst #nakamoto yuta angst #yuta fluff #yuta nakamoto fluff #nakamoto yuta fluff

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lueurjun · 4 years ago

Text

𝖱𝖮𝖠𝖣 𝖳𝖮 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖤. 𝗌𝗂𝗆 𝗃𝖺𝖾𝗒𝗎𝗇

“=⌕ sim jaeyun x gn!reader.

⌗ SUMMARY — becoming a tiktoker was never apart of the plan, but here you are, 4 million followers and a love for pranking your boyfriend.

. . ⇢ LUEURJUN’S NOTES — this is supposed to be gender neutral but if i slipped up at any point then i do sincerely apologise. this probably won’t be written the best, i was kinda sick and had a moment of inspiration. this is super fluffy and cheesy, so brace yourself.

₊❏❜ WARNING ⋮ uh tears of joy?? i guess.

2021 @lueurjun.

THE 30TH APRIL 2020 was the day that your life changed in ways that you used to believe only happened in movies.

Honestly, setting up your phone and telling your devilishly handsome, yet so pure, so innocent boyfriend that you wanted to have a child—whether that be adoption plans or getting pregnant—it was a small prank you decided to pull and film for your group chat. You never had any intentions of uploading it onto the internet, until Jay, one of your closest friends, suggested that you posted it to Tiktok.

Jake was cool with it, having not expected it to blow up as much as it did. Nobody had expected for you to get over 2 million views and over 600k likes on your first video. Nor did you expect the heaps of requests in your comment section of different pranks to pull on your boyfriend. And that’s where it began.

That one video was a rabbit hole into what quickly became your career.

Now, with over 4 million followers, you have created your own little fan base, who have grown to love you, your boyfriend and even your friends that occasionally end up in your videos.

ii.

The light in the kitchen flickered once as you set up your phone against a bunch of cookbooks that your parents had yet to read. Mentally, you made a note to ask one of your family members to change the bulb when they returned home. Focusing on your phone, which was now recording, you put your thumbs up and turned towards the door.

“JAEYUN!” Your voice echoed through the quiet home, bouncing off every wall until it met your boyfriend’s ears. Brief shuffling could be heard followed by the padding of feet across the floor boards. He was only in the next room, so it didn’t take long for him to appear right before your eyes.

The first thing your eyes set on was the crinkles in his shirt, suggesting that he had been laying down. His dark hair was hidden beneath a black hat, which he had placed on his head backwards. He was dressed so simple, but you still managed to fall in love once again at the sight of him. You often wondered how you had managed to bag someone like Jake, he was the epitome of perfection and you couldn’t really see why he would want to be with you. Jake never let these thoughts ponder in your mind for too long, since he was always quick to prove to you that you’re everything to him.

Secretly eyeing the camera, you put on a pout and fiddle with the hem of his shirt. Immediately, the alarm bells go off in Jake’s mind. You’re never normally this quiet and it’s rare to see you pout. He frowns a little, eyebrows knitting together as concern washes over his face. Using his index finger and his thumb, he lifts your chin and gently rubs the skin just below your lip.

“What’s the matter?”

“I just- don’t get mad,” you begin, forcing yourself to sound sad. “But I just think you could’ve been a little bit nicer to me today.”

He had been nothing but an angel to you all day, and you felt horrendous for making him think otherwise, but alas, Tiktok had spoken and they wanted you to do this prank. So, as bad as you felt, it wouldn’t cause much harm.

“Did I do something to upset you?” He looks genuinely hurt by his own actions and guilt immediately tugs at your heart strings.

You shrug and avert your gaze downwards, focusing on the tiled floor beneath your feet. This was partly to stop yourself from giving in too quickly, you’d always been a sucker for Jake’s puppy dog eyes and you knew if you looked into them any longer, you would stop the prank.

Jake cocks his head to the side and steps closer to you, nuzzling his nose against the side of your head. You feel his breath fan over your ear and you swear your heart stops beating for a second. His fingers trail over your waist and he plants the softest kiss to the side of your head.

“I just feel like you’ve been a little mean to me today,” you continue. And he nods his head in understanding, though you know he doesn’t understand at all. Jake doesn’t know what he’s done wrong, but if you think he hasn’t been nice to you then he’s not going to argue.

“I’m sorry, can you tell me what I did to make you feel this way?”

You lean your head against his chest and bite your lip, it’s hard to contain your smile. With his sweet response mixed with the scent of his cologne fogging up your brain, you have a hard time holding onto your act and he quickly notices.

“Is this a prank?” He asks, pulling away from you.

You let the giggles slip from your mouth and nod towards the phone, that you had done your best to hide. Jake turns, his hand still on your waist, and he looks for the camera. Once his eyes land on his figure, he throws his head back and a breathy laugh falls from his lips.

“I should’ve known.”

Yes, yes he should’ve but you still made up for it with plenty of kisses.

iii.

Picking Jake up from football practice had become a ritual.

You didn’t need to be asked anymore, you’re just always there waiting for him and he loves that. The excited smile on his face whenever he sees you patiently sitting behind the wheel never gets old. Picking him up, as sad as it sounds, has become your drive to get through Tuesdays. They’re not your favourite day of the week, but knowing you get to see a smiley, yet sweaty, Sim Jaeyun at the end of the day gives you more than enough motivation.

Just like any other Tuesday, you’re waiting. You like to get there early and so, you have about fifteen more minutes until you see your favourite boy walking through the gate. Music plays softly in the background as you lean back and scroll through your comment sections—people are so sweet, though you do get a bitter taste in your mouth when you see people fawning over your boyfriend like he’s a piece of cake.

You ignore the thirst comments and look through the requests. Not many catch your eye, until you come across a particular one and a smirk appears on your face.

Fifteen minutes turns into twenty and finally you see your worn out boyfriend heading towards your car. As tired as he never fails to smile and pick up his pace. He pulls open the door and slips inside. You reach over and greet him with a chaste kiss before pulling away.

“How was practice?”

“Exhausting. Can we take a nap together when we get to your place?” He asks whilst adjusting his seatbelt.

A nap sounds amazing, and you waste no time in nodding your head. “Before we go, I went shopping today. I picked you up a few things, let me show you.”

He melts then and there. Reaching back, you grab one of the bags and aggressively tug it towards you, making sure you hit Jake on the side of the head. He hisses and turns to look at you.

You don’t even apologize.

“No this isn’t it,” you mumble to yourself.

You grip the bag and throw it back where you got it from, once again making sure to slap your boyfriend with it. He stares at you, annoyed with your aggressiveness, though you don’t look back at him and instead, you hit him a third time with a new bag but you instantly regret it. You ended up attacking him with the new pair of shoes you treated yourself to and you can tell this one pained him.

Quickly giving up on the prank, you drop the bag and reach over to rub the back of his head. “I’m sorry! I really didn’t mean to hit you that hard.”

He whips his head towards you, looking at you as though you had just murdered an entire family in front of him. “What? So you meant to hit me?”

You drop your hand and retreat back to your seat, attempting to look innocent. Jake then finds your phone, which is pointing right at him and he sees that it’s recording. You feel guilty, having not meant to hurt him so hard, you can’t meet his eye. You are about to start driving again, when you feel an impact on your arm and a yelp parts from your mouth.

Jake sits beside you, a smile on his face and a bag clutched in his hand. You scowl and he only grins wider.

“Now we’re even.”

Oh, he is evil.

iv.

On the 10th May 2021, you hit 5 million followers.

It was a shock, you rarely kept track of your follower count because you weren’t really in it for that ( though you are grateful for every single person that supports you ) so, you really hadn’t been expecting to hit such a huge milestone. In fact, you were so unexpectant, that you were sleeping at the time.

“BABY!” Your eyes flew open as the bed shook. Jake had jumped on the bed, plastering kisses all over your face. “You hit 5 mill!”

Disoriented, you blink. “Pardon?”

Jake chuckles at your sleepy state, even with messy hair and puffy eyes, he thinks you look so attractive. His dark eyes trail over your features as he uses his thumb to rub underneath your eye, almost like he was trying to wipe away your sleepiness.

“You hit 5 million followers, you did it.” His voice is softer this time, quieter but still filled with enthusiasm. You gape at him, and he laughs.

“I did?” You ask, pointing to yourself.

He nods. “You did.”

The realisation crashes down at you at once and suddenly, you feel your nose sting as tears form in your eyes. Your fingers curl around the fabric of your boyfriend’s shirt whilst the other hand comes up to cover your mouth. Stray tears drop down onto your skin. You can’t believe it. 5 million people followed you. They like your content.

Jake coos at the tears that leak from your eyes like a waterfall. He’s quick to wipe them away, before he presses a kiss to your wet cheek. He’s proud and he’s filled with pride, his baby got 5 million followers and he couldn’t wait to brag to everyone about how talented and cool you are. That’s his favourite thing to do. Jake loves to brag about you.

You sniffle and press your hands against his cheeks. Gently, you rub your nose against his own. “We did it. It’s your account just as much as it is mine, I wouldn’t have got this far without you. After all, you’re my main prank victim. So, we did it. We hit 5 million together.”

You weren’t taking all of the credit, Jake was just as involved as you and he deserves the praise. You had done this together.

“You do know Jay is never going to let you forget that he was the one who suggested uploading it to TikTok...right?”

You laugh, nodding your head. “Yep. I know he’s gloating in the group chat, right now.”

And he was. Jay was so proud of you and Jake, but most of all, he was proud of himself because without him, you would have never uploaded that first video. So, you let him have his moment.

“To millions more!” Jake cheers as he lifts the pizza in his hand, the two of you had decided to celebrate with a victorious take away and a movie marathon.

“To millions more,” you repeat softly.

Whether you had 0 followers or 5 million, as long as Sim Jaeyun was by your side, you didn’t mind.

#enhypen #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen x gender neutral reader #sim jaeyun #sim jake #jake enhypen #jake scenarios #jake x reader #sim jake imagines #jaeyun x reader #jaeyun fluff #jake fluff #sim jake scenarios

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eutaerpe · 5 years ago

Text

the escapades (m)

pairing — jimin x reader

genre/warnings— smut (oral, fingering, orgasm denial) & college!au, fratboy!jimin, brief e2l, brief ewb, acr universe

summary — the one where there’s a lot of unresolved sexual tension, until there isn’t.

notes — 8.3k words of the happiness before the storm i couldn’t write. i realised halfway through this there’s a slight plotwise change in comparison to what i wrote in acr so. yeah. sorry. kudos to you if you find it lol

The first time it happens, you’re pretending to be someone you’re not.

You’re sitting near the end of the table, crossing your legs and playing with the hem of your dress, your lips twisted into a frown. The real reason lying behind the simple decision of having a single, almost infinite table of guests doesn’t, in the slightest, cross your mind; why your idiotic brother would see this as a delightful idea really is above you, but you suppose the valuable genes in the family runs all in your DNA.

You’re playing with the table decorations while waiting for the guests to come, and it’s so fucking boring you regret telling Seulgi no, babe, what the fuck - you even shook your head and decided to sound extra mad at the idea - I won’t sneak in weed.

Too bad for you, she had answered, a cute pout on her lips, I’ll give you an hour before you’re bored out of your mind.

The truth hangs above your head, with a sheepish grin: you just needed ten minutes to be absolutely, drastically bored.

In hindsight, sneaking in weed wouldn’t have been the worst idea: your mother is talking to the in laws, gesticulating excitedly at the idea of kids right after marriage. What the fuck, you text Seulgi, at home trying to get out of bed, my brother has been married for an hour and there’s already baby talk going on at the table.

Seulgi

[12.49]

With the baby talk comes the dick talk

You

[12.49]

Oh no the dick talk

Seulgi

[12.50]

man how can you survive your relatives talking about nonexistent boyfriends without my weed, damn???

You

[12.50]

option a: I’ll tell them I’m dating you

Seulgi

[12.50]

we kissed ONE time

You

[12.50]

option b: I’ll tell them I’m in a relationship with Jeon jungkook

Seulgi

[12.50]

bitch we both know you’re not in a relationship with the hottest guy on campus. he has dimples and long hair and piercings. my sources can even confirm he has a big dick. what do U Have

You

[12.51]

i was talking about my vibrator but go off lmao

anyway I’ve had that D ;)

Seulgi

[12.51]

you’re officially cancelled

when did this happen? I can’t believe you’re telling me over text!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You

[12.51]

last semester!!!!! why do you think I’ve named my vib after him!!!!!!

Seulgi

[12.52]

because you’re lusting after him like the rest of us mortals!!!!!!!!!!

You

[12.52]

I’ve upgraded since then. I’ve leveled up. I’ve seen things People Can’t Even Imagine

Seulgi

[12.52]

just say he got u off and go

You

[12.52]

anyway option c: I scare them away by saying controversial things. Id est: I don’t believe in love. I am choosing my partner solely judging their abilities to finger me under a table when people are around. I am secretly lusting after my brother’s wife. I am trying to get impregnated like in The Sims 2 aka I am waiting for that alien dick.

Seulgi

[12.52]

hate to break it to you babe but that’s literally who you are

You

[12.52]

I literally compliment joohyun’s boobs once and this is the treatment I get

Seulgi

[12.52]

are we not gonna talk about your alien dick kink

You

[12.52]

no kink shaming in this house lady

option d: I listen to their complaints and run

Seulgi

[12.53]

option dick

man sorry I meant option d

You

[12.53]

you didn’t

Seulgi

[12.54]

ur right I didn’t

Option e, also known as I’ll entertain the other guests so I don’t have to talk to you, presents itself in the form of one very hot, very ripped young man sporting the most expensive shirt in the room. You’re only human when you admit to yourself, mental sigh, that he ticked all the let’s get y/n horny requirements in less than fifteen seconds.

You can’t believe Joohyun has kept him hidden for so long from you. Such betrayal ends when your brother, Kim fucking Seokjin, hugs him tight and brushes with utter affection the nape of his neck, gracing him with a warm smile and a heartfelt laugh.

You can’t believe Seokjin has kept him hidden for so long from you.

Well. Scratch that. You can.

Suddenly, the ticked requirements disappear and a giant neon sentence with a very cheap background music impose themselves in your head. WHAT A TURN OFF! they read, the neon red words mocking you; you steal a glance at your brother’s acquaintance one more time - one last time - before slipping your phone in your hands and dedicating yourself one more time at your Instagram feed, scrolling through the most recent pics.

(You stumble upon an extremely rare Jungkook selfie, and you hate to admit you spend the following thirty seconds admiring him before tapping twice on the quality content you’ve signed up for when you joined the social)

You suppose that, even though your brother’s friends with fuckboy tendencies are signed off your let’s get to know each other better ;) list, it doesn’t mean the same goes for them.

So, when the dark-haired young man with a jawline sharper than Seulgi’s retorts after her third beer sits next to you, you reckon you shouldn’t be that surprised.

He acts all casual, you notice while discreetly looking at him; he’s busy taking off his jacket and flexing his muscles, all of this while pretending not to notice you, and you find it immensely cute.

Ah, fuckboys.

“Fuck,” he rasps, lips twisted in a crooked smile, “I didn’t think it would be this hot today.”

“Yeah, sorry, the heat is on me.”

He chuckles in disbelief at your words, eyes turning into crescents.

“Right, there’s always the girl stealing the bride’s spotlight at weddings.”

“Oh! That’s me,” you nod enthusiastically, “That’s one hundred percent me.”

“Groom or bride?” He asks, pointing at the couple with his chin.

“What do you think?”

He looks at you funny, pressing his back on the seat, pondering in silence. Cute.

“Bride. One of Bae’s sorority sisters, maybe? You seem too young to be her age, though.”

“Damn,” you exhale, crossing your arms under your chest, “I can’t believe you got it all wrong. The expectations were low, but I’m still disappointed.”

He ducks his head, still smiling. “Then it’s the groom. How do you know Seokjin?”

Your eyes twinkle with excitement at your next words, but honestly, who can blame you? You’re having fun with this lost, cute chick.

“What’s your take, officer?”

He erupts into a laugh, and you drink in his handsome features; fuck you, Seokjin, for being friends with fuckboys only.

“Alright,” he punches the bridge of his nose, scanning the room, which is slowly filling with other guests. “I’m his friend, and I know all of his friends, which can only mean one thing: option a, you’re one of his ex-girlfriends; option b, you’re one of his secret hook-ups; option c, you’re an old friend from high school.”

“Oooh,” you beam, unrealistically intrigued, “You really suck at guessing, don’t you?”

He laughs, passing a hand through his dark locks, messing his perfectly styled hair. “Ok, fair. Which one was the closest, then?”

“Option d, of course.” You nod, relaxing your features into a sheepish grin, “I’m his much more beautiful and smarter sister.”

You exam his face, now twisting into some sort of what the fuck, such betrayal look, and you take in, for the last time – really the last, this time – his attractive, sculptured face, his full lips, the smoothness of his skin. It’s awful and unfair knowing you two won’t cross paths ever again in your lives, but at least you had some fun messing with him before things could worsen.

“I’ll be sitting in the middle of the table, with my family, if you want to avoid me.”

You wink at him for good measure, and you swear to god he blushes.

Half a wine bottle and two flutes of prosecco down, you realise you underestimated your resident fuckboy.

It happens when you’re grabbing your napkin and channelling your dreamy, happy looks towards the newlyweds, dancing in the middle of the room, their eyes gravitating only towards the love of their lives.

You sigh, pouting for the smallest of fractions, when you feel someone sitting at your side.

“You know,” Fuckboy begins, and you picture him licking his lips as he pauses, “Now I get why he never told us anything more than: I’m not an only child.”

“I know,” you exhale, turning to face him, “Seokwon is the real catch of our family. We’re really protective of him.”

“He’s married. With kids.”

“I was there when the twins opened their eyes, thank you.”

“We thought you were either a small kid or a forty years old woman.”

“Wait,” you tilt your head, “How did you know about us then? And who’s we?”

“We dug into his stuff and he caved in, admitting he had a brother and a sister.” Fuckboy looks at you, eyes dark but reflecting the dim lights of the function room, “Us. The frat guys.”

“Right, the fuckboys.”

He looks taken aback by your statement, bewildered, and you take advantage of his reaction to stand up and head away from him. It’s his words that stop you from doing so, though.

“You don’t know us—”

“—except I do know your pledges and your brothers.”

“But you don’t know me.”

“Maybe,” you shrug, “I prefer to steer away from my brother’s friends, though.”

“Right,” he says, tightening his lips in a hard line, almost hurt, “So, who am I to interfere with your judgmental thinking?” He clicks his tongue, then, a resolute exhale slipping past his lips, smothered by his own tingling despair.

The words hurt.

You don’t know what exactly pinched your senses hard, if the tone or the wallowing sadness swimming in his expression, but, as he stands up and leaves, you’re left facing the cold, hard truth.

The words hurt, you hurt, and you feel guilty.

You say nothing, glancing in the direction of the first alcoholic beverage around, and you fill yourself a glass.

Had it been someone else – had it been another sentence, another less sickening scenario, you would’ve felt proud, righteous. You’re, instead, on the other side of the feelings spectrum, all filled with crippling guilt and a nauseous, pervasive feeling you can’t quite name and pin down.

The guests are dancing around you, moving hand in hand to the rhythm of the pop love song now playing; the ballroom is packed when you let your impulsive side make a choice, eyes following the guy’s composed figure. You can drastically feel the sweat, and the heat the people are radiating, when you stand up and move towards him, the only smiling boy passing his glass from a hand to the other.

You’re close enough to tap his wrist and brush your fingers, which you do; it elicits a gasp from him, all soft, not scathing around the edges yet able to bite you, anyway. It’s the guilt, you remind yourself, looking for a sign of some sort of inclination to accept your apologies between the crease of his brows and tight jaw, and everywhere in between.

It’s sickening—this boy didn’t exist four fucking hours ago. It didn’t even cross your wildest dreams, someone like him. His shape – his silhouette – has left a print in your mind, and no matter how hard you try focusing on something else, someone else, your mind keeps going back to the shape itself.

But you’re a coward, so, while he lets you intertwine your fingers, you admit, voice loud: “I wanna dance.”

He handles you properly, kindly, before pushing you in the crowd and brushing your hips with his hands, all rings and jewellery adorning them.

He blinks twice, biting the insides of his mouth, but he manages,

“Who says I wanna dance?”

Which is a bit stupid, or hypocritic if you might, because he’s swaying you to the rhythm of a ballad the pop love song turned into. You break into the smallest of smiles.

“I want to apologize.”

He scoffs. “I don’t know you,” he says, funnily enough, “But that seems almost unlikely, coming from you.”

“Yeah, you got me there, officer. I was, uhm,” you stare blatantly at his neck, and you suppress the desire to stroke your fingers’ pads on his soft skin, “I was out of line. I’m sorry. You were right, I don’t know you. I do know your frat brothers, my own brother, but that doesn’t mean I know you.”

He hums, moving for a small fraction of instants his thumbs on your hips and it’s enough for your breath to catch into your own throat. He nods, which could mean anything, from I accept your apology to go fuck yourself, this is bullshit. You prefer the former option, if you’re being honest, which is the answer you settle for in your head, hazed and absolutely hazed and madly hazed because of his small physical contact.

To put this into the simplest terms, Seulgi’s words, you don’t like this.

“I like dancing,” his eyes tower you and gaze at the other people dancing; you wonder if he’s thinking about them, who they are to you, what role they played in Seokjin’s life, if they’ll show up to your wedding, too. These thoughts popped into your mind unannounced, before, at the table, before the not-really-fuckboy sat next to you and made you feel guilty. Such absurdity; yet here you are, in his arms. Oh god, what would Seulgi think of you if she saw you?

“Good to know, I’m awful at shoulder-hips coordination.”

“Shoulder-hips coordination?” he inquiries, lips parted.

“Uh, body rolls?”

“Oh,” he chuckles, “I see, you mean classy grinding.”

“I don’t do classy grinding, sorry,” you retort, head tilted to a side.

His smile his amused. “Too bad, shoulder-hips coordination is a nice trait to exhibit sometimes.”

“I prefer hips coordination. Well, hips rotation.”

“Hips rotation?”

“Riding? Is the term somehow unfamiliar to you?”

He flushes, biting back a grin and fixing his gaze somewhere in the crowd. How cute.

“Not at all, it’s nice to meet a hips rotation enthusiast here, though.”

“Statistics say at least a member in each family is a riding enthusiast, did you know?”

“Shit, talk dirty to me,” he licks his lips, pointing at Jin with his chin, “Didn’t peg him for a rider, though. Not at all.”

“I’m starting to think you’re not a STEM major, are you? You’re lacking basic intuition, my friend.”

“Is this your attempt of discovering my major?” – he eyes you, a flick of amusement burning in his orbs – “You’re not very smooth, you know?”

“I have my moments.”

He snorts, placing both hands on the small of your back. You’re at height level with the base of his neck, and it’s fun how your mind betrays you in such moments, providing mental images of your nose brushing against his skin, and you nuzzling in the crook of his neck. Such taunting, invasive pictures. Fuck off, you reprimand your own mind, fuck off.

“I’m Jimin.”

“Jimin,” you taste the name on your tongue, hitting the back of your front teeth. “Jin never talked about you. I’m Y/N.”

“Jin never talked about you either.”

“Of course he never did, I’m prettier than he is.”

His little dimples make an appearance. “You know, you could really steal the bride’s spotlight.”

“That was my ultimate goal all along, even though I prefer the dark side.”

“I,” he licks his lips, and you don’t know why you’re following the gesture, “I meant to say you’re beautiful.”

“Oh my god,” you whisper, eyebrows raising, “Are you a charmer?”

“I mean,” he begins, sheepish smile on display, “I never kiss and tell.”

“Touching.” He smirks. “How sweet of you.”

“You know what else is sweet?”

“Please,” you beg, meeting his eyes, “Don’t say my pussy.”

“Please,” he repeats, same mocking tone, “The possibilities are endless. Your mouth,” he scoots closer, words whispered on the shell of your ear, “Your mouth around my dick,” he almost nibbles your ear, “Your mouth screaming my name.”

“My pussy,” you add, trying not to lose your mind.

“I would never call sweet something I’ve not tasted.”

He raises a brow.

“Are you offering? You’re not very smooth, you know?”

He ignores the last question, tightening his grip. “In the middle of your brother’s wedding? Seokjin’s wedding? I’m not a dick, even though you sitting on my face would be a sight to see.”

“Right?” your voice doesn’t falter for a second, “That’s what I always say”

“Nice to see how we’ve got much in common. But I was thinking of something else, actually—” His face is once again inches away from yours, ear to mouth, hot breath fanning over you bare neck. “I wanna finger you.”

Oh.

“Under the table. Right behind you. Wanna make you whimper.”

It’s almost like being tongue-tied, fumbling for words, body flushing, but you gather somewhere the strength to form an actual sentence, which makes him smirk devilishly.

“I can be very quiet.”

He pokes his tongue into his cheek. “Bet you can’t keep your pretty mouth shut.”

“When I win,” you say, lying your words on an unrealistically high vote of confidence, even for yourself, “What do I get?”

He licks his lips, slow, savouring the moment. “You get to ride my face.”

“Not your dick?”

“I’m not a fuckboy, baby.”

A comeback of some kind is already on your tongue, but – there’s a kiss somewhere in the following seconds, all wet and tingling and perhaps filled with too many lip bites, but he can’t really blame you when you’ve been brushing your thighs together for the past minute, heat pooling down your belly. It’s enough for you to silently pledge for more, and for him to tease, because he takes a step back, smirk in place and lips reddened, and guides you towards his seat at the end of the table with a hand on the small of your back.

Downhill begins as soon as you sit down, legs barely parted, a minimum space not fitting for his plans, apparently, because the crease between Jimin’s eyebrows grows when he nudges them apart with his hand, the cold metal of his rings cooling down your flushed state. You want to gasp at the sudden intrusion, but the sound is swallowed entirely by his hot mouth on yours, distracting once again, incredibly soft and alluring. This kiss is slow, this time, like he’s taking his time tasting you and learning about the hums he draws out of you, the shyness of your previously biting tongue, and how fast you get lost in the kiss itself. You press a chaste kiss on his mouth, before creaking a space between you.

“I’m starting to think you’re all bark and no bite”

He doesn’t answer, but stares into your eyes with his hooded gaze, and he manages to sneak a hand furtively under your dress not breaking the contact. His skin is warm, but you’re warmer, and his destination is even hotter. He cocks his head, fingers brushing against the soaked, sticking material you used to call panties up until fifteen minutes ago, and he must notice—his eyes grow wider, his jaw tightens and his hand gains courage.

Fuck. This should be embarrassing, getting worked up over dirty innuendos and a kiss or two, but you’re instead feeling flushed and more. More sensitive. More open to the idea of him ruining you, even though that’s not what he’s offering. Or— is he?

The question lies unanswered when his digits rub with a sparkled intensity over both your clothed sex and your inner thighs. It’s a continuous, mellifluous melody, his fingers dancing between the two until he settles on your panties only, and that’s when you almost let out a soft moan; you don’t, he raises his brow, challenging, but you don’t, and instead glance around to notice if someone has his eyes on the both of you, sitting in the furthest region of the fucking smart, endless table.

He raises the stake, flushed: Jimin pushes your panties on one side, petting with his index your exposed self, and you suck in a breath. He continues to do so, face still, closing the distance between you two.

You don’t question the sudden kiss, instead you angle your face and close your eyes and let him press his lips on you. This feels like being drunk, or high, stretching underneath a sky dripping with stars. You cup his face with your hands, his lips so terribly soft and inviting, the smallest of smiles meeting your own chapped and curved upwards lips.

It’s when you’re merely inches away from him that he thumbs at your clit, sensitive and tingling, circling with utmost peace and no speed whatsoever. You pout at little, you realize, which makes him melt either cause of your cute frown -oh, how the tables have turned- or simply because he’s the devil himself, pressing a finger against your entrance and delving it into your heat.

“Cute,” he purrs, kissing you, “Is this okay?”

The crude, hot, nerve-wracking fingering has begun, which makes you, quickly enough, putty in his hands and ablaze with ardour for this man whose rasping voice could kill you.

“Yeah,” you breathe on his mouth, eyelids drooping closed, “Yeah, all good.”

You hum to yourself as he starts pressing kisses on your jaw and your neck, a trail of treacherous flames lighting up your skin, and you have the audacity to sigh under his ministrations, a tiny, strained sound not quite a mewl.

If he hears, he doesn’t show it. You’re biting your own lip when he enters a second finger, filling your searing emptiness.

“Want three?” he asks, voice husky and as desperate as you are under his touch. He adds it when you nod, the squelch louder than before, and you moan, rocking your hips against his fingers.

“Shh, baby,” he coos, placing his other hand on your hips, slowing your movements, “Be a good girl.”

He fucks you deep, fast, fingers clashing against the silky dress you’re wearing and sweat sparkling on his forehead. He swallows another moans of yours, sucking your bottom lip and tugging it between his teeth. You’re close. You’re so close, and it’s only been a couple minutes. You can’t hear anything that isn’t your wet pussy clenching around his fingers, his rhythm ruthless and burning.

“Too bad you’re not coming on my fingers, today,” he says before kissing your neck and emptying your dripping pussy, then proceeding to taste and lick his own fingers in his mouth. He lets them out with a small pop, and it’s the most terrifying sight you’ve ever had in front of your almost watering eyes. “I’m sorry I won the bet, though, your pussy is the sweetest I’ve ever tasted.”

That’s the high and dry story of how you first met Jimin.

The second time it happens, it’s under completely different circumstances, and, substantially, against your every predictions, it really happens. It takes place, like a once in a lifetime event: there’s an orgasm involved, not due to the very charming and never disappointing Jeon jungkook the robotic version, and instead it involves a rather attractive asshole with a persistent smirk plastered on his face.

Except it’s a lot more complicated than what it sounds, and most of it is Seulgi’s fault.

Your roommate had pouted all evening, because that’s what semi adults do when they’re denied a companion for the night.

“I just wanna get wasted. It’s been one hell of a month, and you know how I get when I’m stressed.”

“I can suggest you a vibrator and a bottle of vodka. Do you settle for that, your honor?”

“The more you talk like this,” all self-absorbed and assertive and cautiously, like when talking to a kid, she begins, hands in her long, mahogany hair, “the more I just wanna push you up against the wall.”

“Sounds to me you just wanna get laid.”

“Maybe I do,” she huffs, hands on her hips, the light of your abat-jour highlighting her golden skin. “Maybe I don’t. What I know is that I wanna get wasted. Come with me, pretty please?”

“Look,” you raise your eyes from the book you’ve been holding, stretching a leg onto the unmade bed of yours, “I just wanna get this fucking paper done. I need,” you grip the phone on the bed table, checking for the white, large numbers on your lock screen, “an hour. An hour and half to edit it and I’m all yours.”

“This paper is due on Thursday, though.”

“Yeah, but I have a reputation to uphold in the family. Have to be the most beautiful and successful.”

“You’re full of shit,” are her last words, muttered with a smile as she grabs her jacket.

“Hey,” you call, stretching your neck towards her, “I don’t care if it’s two am and you’re already wasted. Call me and I’ll come to you with a whole bottle of vodka to make it up to you. Hell, I’ll even kiss you goodnight.”

“I don’t wanna make out with you, you freak.”

“You didn’t say that last time, baby!”

Seulgi

[2.13]

wassup bitch

make out with meeeeeeeeeeeeee

[location shared]

com n get me littl nuggrt

Not Sober Seulgi is probably the worst Seulgi you have ever dealt with. You let out a sigh, eyeing the frat dorm all lit up and vibrating to the trashy trap music the insiders are jamming to.

Of course, when it comes to Not Sober Seulgi, there’s boys involved. Frat boys involved. At first, you don’t pay attention to the details, the signs, surrounding you like blinding traffic lights signalling stop stop stop, all red and striking. The thought doesn’t cross your mind, the dots connecting in some hidden part of your brain not making your insides short circuit—instead you’re knocking on the door, then banging on the very wooden entrance until a face shows up; the dorm is dimly lit, and the face is partially lightened by a soft, hued red and, that, too, Future You pinpoints, should have been a sign.

It’s useless, anyway, because you hear the insider talk and you’re burning instantly, like after touching a steaming, hot cup of coffee, except that bitter coffee is still good coffee. Smug Jimin plus bitter you isn’t really sweet, nor a match made in heaven. It’s chaotic, a caustic explosion, and you both know it, judging from the sharp smile he offers you, after blinking lazily at your figure.

“This is a mixer party only,” his soothing voice welcomes you, “Do you have an invite?”

You press your tongue on your teeth, mouth carefully closed.

“Yeah, from Hell, I’ve come to take a fallen angel.”

“Sorry to break it to you, oh-kind-lady, but we didn’t give any invite to poor, damned souls.”

“Too bad I don’t give a fuck about your policies, then,” you move towards the small space between the door and Jimin’s body, but he interferes, placing himself right between the two. “Look, I don’t give a single fuck about this party.”

“Yeah, it sure looks like it.”

You roll your eyes. “My friend is here. She’s most certainly not sober and I’ve come to pick her up. That’s it. Do you think I want to be here, among these drunk, perverted jocks?”

He turns around, stretching his neck, his eyes darting through the crowd, inhibited by alcohol, smelling like cheap beer and weed. The moment his eyes bore into yours, though, it’s terrifying; it’s a rustled reminder of Seokjin’s wedding Jimin, and you don’t like it. You loathe it. You dread it.

“Maybe only some of us.”

He tips his head, lips curving into a timid, small smile, and you tear your gaze from his lips in a heartbeat.

“Yeah, keep dreaming of it. I just want my friend back.” You point your chin towards the amalgam of drunk party animals, “I’ll leave you to your immensely interesting activities, then.”

“What if,” he begins, “You don’t. Or—even better scenario, you leave with me.”

“Best case scenario, I leave with my friend. You stay here.”

“What’s the worst-case scenario, then?”

You cock a brow at him, crossing your arms on your chest. “I leave with my friend, you stay here. Sometime before me leaving, you’re punched. Or kicked. I don’t know. There’s a high chance I’ll throw a drink on you.”

“That implies you’ll be here long enough to grab a drink, doesn’t it? And you don’t have to ruin my shirt to get me naked, babe. Just ask nicely.”

You huff, and you’re mildly tempted to shove him against a wall. Or ruin him. Not in the funny way. More like the high and dry way, the one he knows so well. “I changed my mind, I’ll kick you.”

“Ask nicely?” His teasing tone makes your cheeks flush, and you hope the shitplace with subdued lightening can cover it. His expression shifts into an arrogant one, full smirk and little dimples out, so your cute guess is that he can see. He sees his effect on you, albeit completely unwanted and full of hatred from your side, and he enjoys it. Actually lulls in it, letting out a small laugh which, in turn, makes his eyes turn into crescents, all warm and cute—all things he’s not. All things you know he’s not.

“Ask nicely,” you repeat, rolling the words on your tongue, “Okay, babe. Let’s do this, babe. What do you want from me, babe?”

“Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe the answer is you?”

“Yes, actually,” you sigh, fingers brushing his neck, face comically close to his perfect, chiselled one, “That’s exactly what I thought when you stopped fingering me.”

“Right,” Jimin has the audacity to smile, craning his neck as if to close the distance between you in order to meet you for a kiss, “I’m a man of word, thought. You should be impressed.”

“I’m pretty sure the only thing that’s impressed is your face under the orgasm denial definition. Google it, babe, I guarantee you the meaning comes with your name and a brilliant review of one star.”

“Unlike you.” He licks his lips, eyes on your pretty pink ones, smeared with venom, “You’re not coming.” He explains, to further ignite your rage.

“And whose fault is that, babe?”

Jimin nuzzles into your neck, cupping your other cheek with his rough palm, and his thumb stills on your throat, right where your breath is stuck. He adds pressure on it, lips fondling your burning skin, his usual smirk plastered on them.

“Let me make it up to you.”

“You’re not fucking me,” you spit back, mouth now millimetres away from his, gently inviting you to kiss it, and cherish it, and biting it until you’re satisfied with the hot result.

“I’ll eat you out? Until you come.” He hums. “You’ll come.”

His voice is a mere strangled sound, wanting and dripping with need, and you snap out of it with a small smile.

“Nice offer,” your smile is wicked as you scrape his nape with a feathery touch, the slow movement rousing a flutter in your lower belly. “But get in line, babe.”

His shell-shocked face is the last thing you see before you fulfil the let’s rescue Seulgi! party.

(“Why do you smell like softener?” Seulgi sniffs you, arms looped loosely around your neck, eyes completely shut down. It’s a nice sight, all things considered. You’re no angel, no saint, no perfect person, but you’re a nice friend, and that’s probably the most Seokjin trait you recognize in yourself. It’s your shared apartment, and it’s past 3 am and you’re the one good friend who keeps her promises. “It’s strawberry vodka, you heathen.”)

The line turns out to be a real line, queue line, let’s get this coffee line, which, well. How can one word it, how can one phrase it fully catching the irony of it all, the distinctive je ne sais quoi of life without—

“Nice to see you here.”

It’s the perfect set for a rom-com, you notice, taking in the warm scenery around you. What else can one dream of, right? The campus coffee shop, the campus hot not-really-but-also-kinda fuckboy Jimin, partial jock to give him credit, full time attractive idiot with a tendency for orgasm denial. Really.

“What are the chances?” You exhale, voice devoid of emotions. For the sake of your parents’ integrity, you suppose, because they raised no impolite woman, of course, you turn around to face the angel-like human being, black hair partially covering his forehead, little dimples on full display. That’s—that is lack of integrity, or indecency or au-fucking-dacity. It might as well be a mix of the above-mentioned possibilities, all fitting and nurturing you because he’s gorgeous. He’s handsome. Jimin’s the most attractive human being you’ve ever seen in your life, and it’s not fair.

(Beside the fact that you’ve lived with Kim Seokjin, for fuck’s sake)

He pokes his own cheek, and you bask into the otherworldly scenario that takes place right in front of your caffeine deprived eyes. It’s a sight for sore, soft eyes, and it’s the end of the world as you know it, because it’s morning, too early to properly function like a normal human being, but there he is. There he is, Jimin, channelling his inner boyfriend material aura, oozing off boyfriend smell, nice, fresh, aftershave smell, rocking a stupid sweater and the messiest black mop of hair.

It’s honestly a tragedy, and you won’t stand for it. You will make a move—

“You’re squinting your eyes, like, real tight. Are you alright?”

Just ogling you, your drowsy mind offers, the fucking cheater.

“Yeah,” you reply, swallowing a lump in your dry throat, “Just need coffee. A latte. Anything.”

You move forward in the queue, and as you blink you realize it’s your turn, until it’s not anymore. Jimin carefully and gently moves you out of the way, brushing with the softest touch your side.

“A latte and an iced americano, please.”

The sweetened order for two turns into a hushed thank you, a tipped smile, a flutter of you heart. It’s drinks still half full, his curious gaze darting on your lips, your defences down. It’s unfair, because in a hot second all this pent-up tension shifts into a light, chaste kiss, your back pressed against the coffee shop’s restroom; your chest heaves under his tantalizing make-out session with your neck, followed by his frantic lips pressing on yours, his tongue licking lazily into your mouth, a gasp easing its way out of your warm and eager mouth. It’s a hot-blooded supercut, each frame announced by a starving moan, a content sigh, and, before you realise it, you’re on your bed, Jimin hovering on top of you.

It’s Saturday morning, you hum to yourself, fingers sliding into his hair, all’s in check. There’s a warm body slumped on yours, his tongue swerving on your lower lip and his hips shyly bucking between your open legs. Your panties are drenched, you can feel his hard on through the jeans and, really, all’s in check.

He nudges your nose with his. “Lemme eat you out.”

The answer lies sitting on the tip of your tongue, right next to an obnoxious remark that you hope will rile him up enough for him to rip your underwear, which you definitely won’t complain about. However, the words don’t come out, they slur in your craving mouth the second he gets up and shoves you toward the end of your unmade bed, spreading your naked legs open with his calloused palms.

“Nice skirt,” he comments, voice a rasp, eyeing the drenched, lilac underwear, skirt at this point gone up to cover your stomach. “I just want…”

He shuffles closer, enough for you to feel his hot breath on your core, and that’s when Jimin pulls the panties on a side, teasing you with little licks to your entrance. You’re responsive, too eager for anything to quench your thirst that you sigh happily at the barest of actions, gripping strands of his hair. Jimin chuckles, engulfing the throbbing clit in his mouth in one go and drawing desperate moans out of your cute, devilish mouth.

“Fuckboy move,” you emit, voice cracking at the pressure of his warm mouth, “Oh, oh. Fuck…”

He replies flattening his tongue on your core, then licking and lapping against your dripping folds. Jimin positively glows at the cries you let out, face slobbering with your arousal while driving you insane, fucking with his tongue like his life depended on it. It’s almost a spiritual experience, a crescendo of wails and sobs, his face drown in your pussy and his tongue paying reverence to your approaching orgasm. He can feel it in the way you writhe, in his hand splaying over your stomach, keeping you still while he eats you religiously, forehead beaded with sweat.

You come with a trembling hand in his hair, the other flicking your bare nipple, back slightly arched and a lewd mewl; Jimin takes in the way your body trembles, your breath all staggered because of him, and the sight alone is enough for him to cum in his pants with a grunt, completely untouched.

The second time it happens is, coincidentally, the first time Jimin knows there’s no turning back from this.

Complicated is a big word when it comes to relationship, you reckon, emitting something akin to a gasp, truly soap operas worthy material, but, for the first time in your life, you decide to name it this way.

Being with Jimin is… complicated, for starters. Especially because you’re not with Jimin, in the strict, relationship-wise meaning. He knows your favourite colour (“Why the fuck you only own purple underwear?” “It’s lilac, dick, watch your mouth.” “Watch your own mouth, babe. You’re the one on your knees.”), your favourite food (“But you like having your mouth stuffed with my cock, honey.” You sigh, blushing. “First of all, I’m talking about real food. That amazing steak kind of food—“

“I’ll show you real meat, babe.”

“Gross. Gross. How can I cancel the last five seconds of my life?”

“Come here, Jared, nineteen,” he half smiles, tilting his head, “I’ll get us fries.”), your favourite movie (“We can’t get each other off every time your ugly paper cap fits—oh,” you suck in a breath, Jimin flicking his tongue on your turgid nipple, “oh, god, don’t stop.”), your best friend’s name (“I condone you dicking her so good she sometimes cries, you know, I just don’t when I’m in the room next to hers and all I can hear is my best friend trying to formulate a single coherent word but failing because you’re pounding her mercilessly into the mattress.” Jimin chuckles, grabbing his jacket before holding the doorknob. “She begged, Seulgi.”)—so what? It’s not like you sat down and decided not to ask each other dumb questions, so that you could find out in the funny, kinky way. For fuck’s sake, you didn’t even decide on anything, didn’t even talk about talking, because the relationship related shit didn’t even cross your mind.

It’s even quite fucking hard for it to cross it, because half the time you’re together you’re either both naked – except for the time he pleaded for the tartan mini to stay – or stuffing your mouth with food—because, if there’s something you’ve learned after one too many hook-ups with him is that this kind of sex requires strength. Like, actual, physical strength, if we’re not talking about the this test is draining me please fuck me until I can’t walk sex. Which, yeah, 10/10 would recommend. That was the day Seulgi decided to invest in ear plugs while muttering capitalism, here I come.

You also came.

Funnily enough, guess who also came. Not in the funny, kinky way. Think about the grossest thing, imagine the beyond the bounds of possibility, sprinkle it with Jimin earnestly shoving his dick down your throat, stir it with a poor Taehyung brushing his teeth next to the both of you, a step away from the shower, and serve it on the most expensive plate in the kitchen, a recipe not approved by Kim Seokjin.

Yeah, you mentally roll your eyes, licking your lips clean, at eye-level with your sorta enemy with benefits’ pretty dick: the married brother of yours, former fratboy, taller than your current will to live.

In hindsight, maybe it is Seokjin’s fault. Once you’re married, you’re supposed to be committed to the cause, and sometimes, an angry little crumb in you finds the audacity to speak, the cause is made up of your four walls: ergo home, ergo your married life, miles away from the absurdity that once filled his university days. You’re being hypocritical, you realize, skin wet, body trembling. In the simplest, most hedonistic terms, you’re done with the chaos in this fraternity and just wished that hooking up was easier. It’s more than a stolen orgasm, a random spur of pleasure and free de-stresser; it’s also something not quite like art but just as peculiar. Sex with Jimin is more than nice, more than a fast rummage of clothes on the floor and panties teared, or condoms stuffed in every single pocket of his jacket.

It should also be noticed that it’s been one hell of a stressful week, okay, which means that it’s one of those times you seek for naked intimacy, in its least literal meaning. You’re looking for something sure, something silent, something earnest. Jimin gives you that in the simplest of forms, in the easiest of ways. It’s not fair for your brother to come unannounced and burst into the house with his adorable laugh and love for his own brothers. Way to ruin the moment, bro.

Jimin blinks attentively when Taehyung laughs, clapping his hands all happy and following the elder’s voice outside the bathroom.

“I’m getting you my clothes.”

“Wait, what?”

His lips part just enough for his tongue to wet them, and your eyes follow in silence the gesture.

“I mean,” he starts, grabbing a towel, “You either come out with me from this bathroom or you don’t.”

He’s concise, yet harsh, words uttered with those soft lips yet are just as hot as a slap in your face. He’s telling the truth, but you soon find out you don’t really like it.

There’s something abrupt and severe in those chosen words, so well picked out because they’re not meant to hurt, but at the same time they’re so worrying. So terrible, practically as hard as a punch in your guts.

You either come out of the bathroom with him — you had been blowing minutes before, hadn’t you? Quite the intimacy, huh? — or you don’t. You stay behind. Different rooms, a whole door to separate you while he’s out with the people he cares about.

Seems legit, but. It’s unfair. You know Jimin isn’t choosing for you, but it’s obvious he’s inclined towards an option between the two, and you’re terrified to discover whether it’s his own desire pushing or what he thinks you want.

You, instead, push the thought aside when you nod, taking the towel from his hands and covering your body from this terrific half hook-up.

Because that’s what it is—that’s what you are.

It dawns upon you like a cold breeze hitting your face in full December, suddenly, and that’s when you realize winter is near. In your mind, this hooking up scenario seemed nicer. Sounded softer, a cute bubble moving slowly in the air.

But now—well, now the bubble has burst, and it feels wrong, and this unexpected wrong doesn’t feel right in your chest, and that’s the story of how you leave the house escaping from his window, in his clothes, with vision blurred by hot, stupid, idiotic tears.

Seulgi is the first one to notice, and, obviously, the first one to speak.

“Something’s been bothering you,” she says, head tilted in a way that’s supposed to be emphatic and worried but comes off as stiff and terrified. “Care to share?”

It’s just a wholesome amount of terrifying stuff, isn’t it? First the shower incident, now Seulgi’s ways not working around you anymore. What’s next? Avoiding Jimin for a whole week? Blocking his number? Losing the smart and beautiful title to your obnoxious brother?

You wouldn’t be surprised, really. Shit like this always happens at the same fucking time.

“It’s nothing. A stressful couple days, maybe? Or maybe I’m getting sick. There’s a guy always coughing during Physics. Maybe it’s his fault, who knows.”

Seulgi unlocks her phone, an unreadable gaze studying you. She gives up a second later, though, her weak maybe reaching your ears when you’ve already looked down on your book.

One simply cannot be annoyed because of a half hook up. Christ. You deserve better than that. You have some dignity left, tainted by everything that’s not Jimin and his harsh, stupid words.

So, your mind offers, while you squint your eyes, I suppose there’s nothing else you could do about it.

Nothing else besides acknowledging it and moving on.

Sounds like a plan. A fireproof plan, an escape plan, something detailed and precise. Planned to work out smoothly; planned to be executed without pain or mistakes.

It’s seven sharp when he knocks, takeout in his left hand, eyes bulging because it’s fucking freezing outside.

“It’s fucking freezing, what the fuck.” He says out loud, indeed. What he receives as an answer is the sound of your tongue clicking, the biggest amount of interest you’ve shown towards him the whole week. He would finally exhale, weren’t it for the fact that this is still pretty traumatic, because if there’s something he’s learned while orbiting around you, is that you’re constantly awake and aware of your surroundings. Your body language says that you pay attention to him, or Seulgi, or whoever you’re talking to. You follow the guy with your eyes, and you listen and nod in all the right places during a conversation, and you search for his dark gaze when he’s fucking you in the dimly lit bedroom, the bed creaking under your sweaty sex making. He’s not admitting it, he never will, and he’ll pretty much deny this to everyone who will ask but: there’s something hot about it. Something burning with the way your body reacts to him, when your eyes follow his actions, while your voice falters when he fucks you right, and it somehow pushes him to the edge every time. It’s the equivalent of Jungkook getting a boner in the gym while catching girls and boys drooling at him, except he’s talking about you and your crazy moans, your magic aura.

And yes, okay, fucking blame him, the realization alone made him jerk off in his room like a teen, twice, yesterday. That’s a fact. That’s barely a fact, alright? This is a truth; a statement soon forgot by the knowers. Obviously.

You look spent, he thinks, if he had to choose a word, dared by some arrogant deity to define the current mess you were. He glances at your barely done ponytail, at the tiredness written all over your face. He takes in your baggy sweater, your quiet beauty, knowing this is gonna be one of those nights you take a step back.

He doesn’t say anything though, instead he brushes the hair on your forehead, not even making contact with your skin.

You grab the bag from his hands, shivering instantly and hoping he doesn’t read the signs. They’re—they’re there, you know, you’re collecting them slowly, one after another, grabbing one and looking cautiously for the following one, hoping it’s not there. Hoping it doesn’t exist.

You exhale a sigh, disguising it as cough, a noise, something distracting Jimin from his silent staring, which is, funnily enough, loud and cacophonic.

“Hungry,” you state, the single word weighting more because of the soft pout on your lips. Jimin hates that he knows what it means, that it’s gonna be just the two of you this time, no chill whatsoever, no bodies touching and melting against each-other. He’s not complaining, what the fuck, he’s not an idiot. He’s not even mad, he’s just—accepting, on a level. This is the point of no return, he guesses, following you on the couch and admiring the laptop’s screen reflected on your face.

He doesn’t say anything when you search for Brooklyn 99 on Netflix, because he’d say everything, otherwise. He’d mumble something along the lines of this feels real, we could do this all the time, or, worst of all: I like this. I like you.

So, in order: he tugs at your sleeves and scoots you closer to him, and you say absolutely nothing at the gesture. He’s ecstatic on the inside, partially terrified, mostly delusional. He pretends he’s something more when you lean on him, the slightest pressure of your head on his shoulder. He cares zero fucks about the show when he’s breathing your scent in and feels how warm you are and shuts his eyelids down when he pictures you adoring him. Liking him. Liking him a whole lot more—

He’s fucked, he realises, hours later, when you doze off and he has to carry you to bed, something you claim of loathing, which—what on earth. It’s an unfathomable absurdity, that’s what it is.

“You can stay.”

His voice falters. “What?”

You cough, eyes closed as you speak sinful words: “The night, I mean. It’s fucking freezing outside.”

His lips form a small o, and it’s hot all of a sudden. “Alright,” he manages, staring at you on your bed, hands fidgety and heartbeat accelerated for some reason, “Make space for me. Hey, fucker. I’m serious. Let me in.”

You do.

(to be continued. ily)

#BTS jimin #bts #bts fic #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts scenario #bts smut #bts social media au #bts imagine #bts imagines #jimin imagine #jimin #jimin smut #jimin bts #jimin x reader

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kashmiresims · 7 years ago

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Road to Success

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Why did she still have heels on? If Leona weren't sitting on Edric King's tour bus she would have already have kicked them off, but she was new and didn't want to be seen as the weird girl who didn't wear shoes in public. She had been introduced to the rest of the band, the roadies and other assorted personnel that traveled with them, but still didn't feel comfortable with possibly exposing them to the smell of her feet. She felt the painful pinch on her toes and could only put on a smile of fake attentiveness as Luke sat next to her and tried to make small talk.

It was hard enough to concentrate on what he was talking about with the previously mentioned unpleasantness, but then there were other distractions such as the in-bus television that was on though no one seemed to be watching. One of the guitar players was strumming out the intro to one of Edric's songs repeatedly without finishing, while she could hear Caroline and the girl in charge of Edric's wardrobe discussing fashion from the other side of Luke. Through the opposite ear, she could overhear a lewd string of conversation between Edric himself and another band member that was followed by uproarious laughter.

"So now that you have another concert under your belt, do you feel more at ease performing in front of such big crowds?" Luke asked.

Leona's concentration moved from the feeling in her feet and the noise around her towards the band manager, "Why do you ask?"

They had left West Clayton a few hours ago and were already on their way to the next city on the tour—taking her even further away from her home region.

Luke propped his elbow onto the back of the seat and leaned into it while giving her a studied look, "Edric mentioned that you seemed nervous before going on stage tonight—"

Leona felt a prick of annoyance at Edric, which was unfortunately not uncommon in the few days since they had been introduced. Who was he to make assumptions about her and then blab to others about it? She shifted her sitting position, pulling her legs underneath her and leaned over to peer down at Edric with a frown.

"Hey!" She snapped and pointed at him, "I wasn't nervous at the last concert!"

Edric had his legs crossed and propped up on the small dinette table with his hands behind his head. He gave a lazy little smile in response, "You were tapping your foot so fast I thought you'd bust out in a tap dance. Isn't it a nervous tick?"

Leona gave an indignant huff, "It's not. I was getting my feet accustomed to these high heels. You'd be tapping your foot too if you had to wedge your toes together like that."

"Take them off if they brother you so much," Edric suggested.

"Don't tell me what to do," Leona retorted and turned her back on him, returning her attention to the band manager. Anything was better than being forced to talk with Edric. "Anyway, despite what Edric says—I'm at ease whenever I perform in public. I've been doing this since I was in high school."

"Yes, Naomi and I discussed your singing accomplishments—you came in first for the regional Battle of the Bands when you were just sixteen. Then went on to play for a few local gigs after that. Your band separated shortly after you entered Sim State University—why was that again?"

Leona didn't realize Luke knew so much about her but she supposed it made sense when her agent submitted an audition tape. He'd had to vet her thoroughly if she was to sing and travel with someone as famous as Edric King. But if that was true, then he should have had a good idea of why her band had separated. What did he want her to say that he didn't already glean from her agent? Did he suspect she had anything to do with the reason her band was no longer playing? She had to set the record straight if that was the case!

"My bandmates, they..." Leona began to say and was forced to think of Alarie and Illyana—about how they thought that she was so obsessed with her dream that she'd resort to sleeping her way to make it come true and with Edric no less! The nerve! It still hurt her that was how she was perceived but she would prevail and show them she could succeed in her own way. "They went in different directions, it was hard to schedule gigs and practices so I thought it best to strike off on my own."

Luke nodded with sympathetic understanding.

What she didn't tell him was how much Alarie liked to drink and party once she entered college and that resulted in her blowing off band practice a majority of the time, or how Illyana got her first serious boyfriend at age 18 and suddenly all her free time was spent with him instead of writing new music. Leona couldn't keep it all up by herself and besides, her so-called 'friends' never wanted the fame as she did. The Raven Crowns dissolved, leaving Leona pursuing music as a solo artist.

"Hey, Miss Arithmetic!" She heard her new nickname shouted from below. She peeked over and frowned, non-verbally indicating that she disliked it, but giving him her attention nonetheless.

Edric had gotten up from where he was lounging, most likely to stretch his legs after sitting the past few hours. He swayed slightly with the movement of the vehicle as he held his balance on a hand rail, "You're awfully cranky. You should get some beauty rest as soon as we get to Mesa Flats."

Leona shot up and the movement caught the attention of nearly everyone in the small space. The strums of the guitar and the chatter all stopped; the only noise left was a commercial from the television.

"Maybe I wouldn't be so cranky if you called me by my actual name," she made her way down the few steps from the elevated seating area to face him head on, "Maybe I wouldn't be so cranky if—"

"If you weren't wearing high heels?" Edric suggested and crossed his arms.

Leona clamped her hands to her hips and glowered at his interruption, starting again, "Maybe I wouldn't be so cranky if the guy I'm singing for didn't cut me off when I speak and steal my hotel key cards."

Instead of looking ashamed or embarrassed for being called out, he just seemed mildly perplexed, "You're still mad about that? That was so long ago."

She threw her arms down, "It was less that 48 hours ago!"

"You need to stop living in the past."

"Stop it, both of you," Luke's clear, annoyed voice split through the tension. They looked to him and saw him holding the side of his head with an exasperated expression, as if he'd developed a headache--as if he were dealing with children. Leona was taken aback, because it wasn't fair that she was being chided when Edric had started it!

"But—"

"Everyone on this bus is a team," Luke declared as he swept his gaze around the immediate vicinity and stood, "We will be in each other's company for many weeks to come, will be working long hours practicing and traveling with little sleep to pull off successful shows. That chance of success goes down every time an unkind comment, or a petty disagreement surfaces."

He looked back to Leona and Edric, at the middle of it all, and narrowed his eyes, "So be nice to each other."

Leona felt her breath build up in her cheeks with frustration before letting it out in a stream of air; she hadn't been mean to Edric at all! He had baited her ire by acting like an arrogant man-child and if no one called him out for it, then he would never stop.

She opened her mouth to protest once more but Luke held up his finger, "Miss Hillenburg," he seemed to sigh and speak in a lowered tone, "Please, remember that you are not the person people are paying to see at these shows."

He didn't have to say anything else, because that particular string of words was threat enough. The team-talk that Luke had just spewed was cheap; everyone knew Edric was the star. Everyone on that bus would have to deal with his antics or risk being fired. She turned an eye to Edric who just smirked knowingly.

Leona threw Edric a disgusted look that told him she wasn’t going to be complacent in his asshattery. She did drop it though because she wasn’t in a mood to be further lectured by Luke; she felt a growing weight in her chest because she had signed onto this voluntarily, not knowing the type of person she was working with, but too stubborn to quit it now that she had her foot in the door.

She grabbed her cell phone that had been charging by connection to one of the outlets in the bus, and made her way to the back of the bus to the lavatory that was currently unoccupied. She locked the door and took a lean against the wall--her frustrations finally crowded into her expression as sadness. She turned her head and looked at her reflection in the mirror above the lavatory sink. She looked awesome, just having come from a concert, fully made up but her face didn’t match all that glamourous fun.

She had to tough it out. There was no other choice—she had signed a contract. She unlocked her phone and found a string of missed calls from her father.

He was the first person she called when her phone recharged after Pandora. He was suspicious of the quick process that had roped her into touring. Leona tried to explain and, in the end, told him to call Naomi if he had any questions. He just worried too much. She did smile for a moment thinking that at least she didn’t get married in Pandora like he originally feared—ridiculous as it was.

Before her father’s barrage of calls, there was a missed call from Antoine. Leona stood straighter as it caught her eye. She hadn’t gotten a call from her ex for over a year and must have missed it when she was rushing about for the West Clayton concert. There was no voice mail.

Leona moved to sit on the toilet—not because she actually had to go but her feet were hurting again. She did end up kicking off the shoes and tried to ignore her urge to cringe at realizing her bare feet were on the bus lavatory floor. Antoine was a good enough distraction.

Her phone read 11:30 p.m. and she weighed in her mind if that was too late to return a call. It was a week night...but Antoine had said he took the week off from work. She wondered if he had gone searching for an apartment yet. She decided, it wouldn’t hurt to try and besides, she missed his voice.

“Songbird, you finally returning my calls?” his deep, rich, baritone greeted her and that prick of frustration she had just felt immediately lessened.

“I’m sorry, things just got a bit hectic and my phone wasn’t charged,” she apologized but couldn’t help but to smile because she could tell he was anything but angry. Antoine was very laid back and there always seemed to be some kind of humor on the edge of his voice.

“So, I hear you’re now touring, that must be an experience. They’re not working you too hard, are they?”

She thought of Edric and snapped, “More like working my last nerve.”

“Uh oh.”

“It’ll be okay...I guess, I just thought it would be easier,” she explained, thinking of how she didn’t anticipate not getting along with those she worked with. She had always seemed to pretty good in that department.

“The road to success never is. You know as well as anyone you have to work hard for it. It may even mean you have to give up friends and relationships to achieve it.”

She didn’t have to be reminded. She had already given up Antoine once so he could chase his dreams and he was forever closer to achieving them because he didn’t have Leona to drag him down. He would deny it of course, claiming he could have kept dating her and doing his work but maybe, she was also shielding herself from the inevitable heartbreak of him choosing his job over her. Not to mention, even if that had worked out, she would have still been distracted from her own goals.

His words also reminded her of her two closest friends. The girls had been close for a very long time but those times weren’t perfect—once and a while they hit a bump in the road, occasionally a big bump and it never helped that Leona was as steadfast, Alarie was quick to judge, and Illyana held onto grudges like a vice. Leona didn’t want to give up any of her relationships with those she loved but then again, those she loved didn’t make it easy either.

Love was work.

“I sincerely hope I don’t have to,” she sighed and closed her eyes, feeling tired. It had been such a long day, “By the way—I hope you aren’t mad that I can’t come look at apartments with you.”

“Not mad, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed. I can’t begrudge you too much, you got what you wanted—a contract to sing, and with someone quite famous at that,” he replied and she hated that she disappointed him of all things; he was still good enough not to make a big deal out of it, though that edge of humor always in his tone vanished, “Besides, ‘Lanna came hunting with me and I’ve already picked a place out—moving my stuff in early tomorrow.”

“That’s great! What’s the place like?”

“One bedroom, one bath—it has raised ceilings and a terrace. It’s right next to the park so lots of trees and shade.”

She knew she couldn’t have her cake and eat it too but she really wished she could have been there, to experience it and him to herself. She wondered if she would ever wake up in his arms again, “Sounds amazing, I can’t wait to see it.”

“And when will that be?”

“I don’t know, I'm locked into the contract for four years—surly we ‘d meet up before then. I’ll have to ask the manager about time off and scheduling—” she began to ramble but got cut off by his voice which seemed, now, just as tired as she was.

“Sounds like your time is a premium now. Anyway, I got to go, I have an early day of moving stuff. Just please...if you can manage, answer my calls—because I will call and keep calling until you tell me not to. I’m your biggest fan, Songbird. Don’t forget it. Goodnight.”

His new, melancholy tone, didn’t escape her notice and she felt the same sensation encompass her at his parting words. She would love to stay up late like she did in high school, waiting for Antoine to call her so she could pick up quickly and not have her father become suspicious. However, with her new career, she knew it was pure optimism to think they could ever be like they were, again.

#ts2 #sims 2 #NOV arc #kashmiresims #sims 2 story #my shots

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