#could all this be incorporated into my life please

[daydreamsandotherlovelythings]

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

25 Prose Tips For Writers 🖋️✨ Part 1

Hey there!📚✨

As writers, we all know that feeling when we read a sentence so beautifully crafted that it takes our breath away. We pause, reread it, and marvel at how the author managed to string those words together in such a captivating way. Well, today I'm going to unpack a few secrets to creating that same magic in your own writing. These same tips I use in my writing.

But before I begin, please remember that writing is an art form, and like any art, it's subjective. What sounds beautiful to one person might not resonate with another. The tips I'm about to share are meant to be tools in your writer's toolkit, not rigid rules. Feel free to experiment, play around, and find what works best for your unique voice and style.

Power of Rhythm 🎵

One of the most overlooked aspects of beautiful prose is rhythm. Just like music, writing has a flow and cadence that can make it pleasing to the ear (or mind's ear, in this case). Here are some ways to incorporate rhythm into your writing:

a) Vary your sentence length: Mix short, punchy sentences with longer, flowing ones. This creates a natural ebb and flow that keeps your reader engaged.

Example: "The sun set. Darkness crept in, wrapping the world in its velvet embrace. Stars winked to life, one by one, until the sky was a glittering tapestry of light."

b) Use repetition strategically: Repeating words or phrases can create a hypnotic effect and emphasize important points.

Example: "She walked through the forest, through the shadows, through the whispers of ancient trees. Through it all, she walked with purpose."

c) Pay attention to the stressed syllables: In English, we naturally stress certain syllables in words. Try to end important sentences with stressed syllables for a stronger impact.

Example: "Her heart raced as she approached the door." (Stronger ending) vs. "She approached the door as her heart raced." (Weaker ending)

Paint with Words 🎨

Beautiful prose often creates vivid imagery in the reader's mind. Here are some techniques to help you paint with words:

a) Use specific, concrete details: Instead of general descriptions, zoom in on particular details that bring a scene to life.

Example: Instead of: "The room was messy." Try: "Crumpled papers overflowed from the waste bin, books lay spine-up on every surface, and a half-eaten sandwich peeked out from under a stack of wrinkled clothes."

b) Appeal to all five senses: Don't just describe what things look like. Include smells, sounds, textures, and tastes to create a fully immersive experience.

Example: "The market bustled with life. Colorful fruits glistened in the morning sun, their sweet aroma mingling with the earthy scent of fresh herbs. Vendors called out their wares in sing-song voices, while customers haggled in animated tones. Sarah's fingers brushed against the rough burlap sacks of grain as she passed, and she could almost taste the tang of ripe oranges on her tongue."

c) Use unexpected comparisons: Fresh similes and metaphors can breathe new life into descriptions.

Example: Instead of: "The old man was very thin." Try: "The old man was a whisper of his former self, as if life had slowly erased him, leaving behind only the faintest outline."

Choose Your Words Wisely 📚

Every word in your prose should earn its place. Here are some tips for selecting the right words:

a) Embrace strong verbs: Replace weak verb + adverb combinations with single, powerful verbs.

Example: Instead of: "She walked quickly to the store." Try: "She hurried to the store." or "She dashed to the store."

b) Be specific: Use precise nouns instead of general ones.

Example: Instead of: "She picked up the flower." Try: "She plucked the daisy."

c) Avoid clichés: Clichés can make your writing feel stale. Try to find fresh ways to express common ideas.

Example: Instead of: "It was raining cats and dogs." Try: "The rain fell in sheets, transforming the streets into rushing rivers."

Play with Sound 🎶

The sound of words can contribute greatly to the beauty of your prose. Here are some techniques to make your writing more musical:

a) Alliteration: Repeating initial consonant sounds can create a pleasing effect.

Example: "She sells seashells by the seashore."

b) Assonance: Repeating vowel sounds can add a subtle musicality to your prose.

Example: "The light of the bright sky might ignite a fight."

c) Onomatopoeia: Using words that sound like what they describe can make your writing more immersive.

Example: "The bees buzzed and hummed as they flitted from flower to flower."

Art of Sentence Structure 🏗️

How you structure your sentences can greatly affect the flow and impact of your prose. Here are some tips:

a) Use parallel structure: When listing items or actions, keep the grammatical structure consistent.

Example: "She came, she saw, she conquered."

b) Try periodic sentences: Build suspense by putting the main clause at the end of the sentence.

Example: "Through storm and strife, across oceans and continents, despite all odds and obstacles, they persevered."

c) Experiment with sentence fragments: While not grammatically correct, sentence fragments can be powerful when used intentionally for emphasis or style.

Example: "She stood at the edge of the cliff. Heart racing. Palms sweating. Ready to jump."

Power of White Space ⬜

Sometimes, what you don't say is just as important as what you do. Use paragraph breaks and short sentences to create pauses and emphasize important moments.

Example: "He opened the letter with trembling hands.

Inside, a single word.

'Yes.'"

Read Your Work Aloud 🗣️

One of the best ways to polish your prose is to read it aloud. This helps you catch awkward phrasing, repetitive words, and rhythm issues that you might miss when reading silently.

Edit Ruthlessly ✂️

Beautiful prose often comes from rigorous editing. Don't be afraid to cut words, sentences, or even entire paragraphs if they don't serve the overall beauty and effectiveness of your writing.

Study the Masters 📖

Please! Read widely and pay attention to how your favorite authors craft their prose. Analyze sentences you find particularly beautiful and try to understand what makes them work.

Practice, Practice, Practice 💪

Like any skill, writing beautiful prose takes practice. Set aside time to experiment with different techniques and styles. Try writing exercises focused on specific aspects of prose, like describing a scene using only sound words, or rewriting a simple sentence in ten different ways.

Remember, that developing your prose style is a journey, not a destination. It's okay if your first draft isn't perfect – that's what editing is for! The most important thing is to keep writing, keep experimenting, and keep finding joy in the process.

Here are a few more unique tips to help you on your prose-perfecting journey:

Create a Word Bank 🏦

Keep a notebook or digital file where you collect beautiful words, phrases, or sentences you come across in your reading. This can be a great resource when you're looking for inspiration or the perfect word to complete a sentence.

Use the "Rule of Three" 3️⃣

There's something inherently satisfying about groups of three. Use this to your advantage in your writing, whether it's in listing items, repeating phrases, or structuring your paragraphs.

Example: "The old house groaned, creaked, and whispered its secrets to the night."

Power of Silence 🤫

Sometimes, the most powerful prose comes from what's left unsaid. Use implication and subtext to add depth to your writing.

Example: Instead of: "She was heartbroken when he left." Try: "She stared at his empty chair across the breakfast table, the untouched coffee growing cold."

Play with Perspective 👁️

Experiment with different points of view to find the most impactful way to tell your story. Sometimes, an unexpected perspective can make your prose truly memorable.

Example: Instead of describing a bustling city from a human perspective, try describing it from the point of view of a bird soaring overhead, or a coin passed from hand to hand.

Use Punctuation Creatively 🖋️

While it's important to use punctuation correctly, don't be afraid to bend the rules a little for stylistic effect. Em dashes, ellipses, and even unconventional use of periods can add rhythm and emphasis to your prose.

Example: "She hesitated—heart pounding, palms sweating—then knocked on the door."

Create Contrast 🌓

Juxtapose different elements in your writing to create interest and emphasis. This can be in terms of tone, pacing, or even the literal elements you're describing.

Example: "The delicate butterfly alighted on the rusted barrel of the abandoned tank."

Use Synesthesia 🌈

Synesthesia is a condition where one sensory experience triggers another. While not everyone experiences this, using synesthetic descriptions in your writing can create vivid and unique imagery.

Example: "The violin's melody tasted like honey on her tongue."

Experiment with Sentence Diagrams 📊

Remember those sentence diagrams from school? Try diagramming some of your favorite sentences from literature. This can give you insight into how complex sentences are structured and help you craft your own.

Create a Sensory Tour 🚶‍♀️

When describing a setting, try taking your reader on a sensory tour. Move from one sense to another, creating a full, immersive experience.

Example: "The old bookstore welcomed her with the musty scent of aging paper. Dust motes danced in the shafts of sunlight piercing the high windows. Her fingers trailed over the cracked leather spines as she moved deeper into the stacks, the floorboards creaking a greeting beneath her feet. In the distance, she could hear the soft ticking of an ancient clock and taste the faint bitterness of old coffee in the air."

Use Active Voice (Most of the Time) 🏃‍♂️

While passive voice has its place, active voice generally creates more dynamic and engaging prose. Compare these two sentences:

Passive: "The ball was thrown by the boy." Active: "The boy threw the ball."

Magic of Ordinary Moments ✨

Sometimes, the most beautiful prose comes from describing everyday occurrences in a new light. Challenge yourself to find beauty and meaning in the mundane.

Example: "The kettle's whistle pierced the quiet morning, a clarion call heralding the day's first cup of possibility."

Play with Time ⏳

Experiment with how you present the passage of time in your prose. You can stretch a moment out over several paragraphs or compress years into a single sentence.

Example: "In that heartbeat between his question and her answer, universes were born and died, civilizations rose and fell, and their entire future hung in the balance."

Use Anaphora for Emphasis 🔁

Anaphora is the repetition of a word or phrase at the beginning of successive clauses or sentences. It can create a powerful rhythm and emphasize key points.

Example: "She was the sunrise after the longest night. She was the first bloom of spring after a harsh winter. She was the cool breeze on a sweltering summer day. She was hope personified, walking among us."

Create Word Pictures 🖼️

Try to create images that linger in the reader's mind long after they've finished reading. These don't have to be elaborate – sometimes a simple, unexpected combination of words can be incredibly powerful.

Example: "Her laughter was a flock of birds taking flight."

Use Rhetorical Devices 🎭

Familiarize yourself with rhetorical devices like chiasmus, antithesis, and oxymoron. These can add depth and interest to your prose.

Example of chiasmus: "Ask not what your country can do for you – ask what you can do for your country." - John F. Kennedy

Even the most accomplished authors continue to hone their craft with each new piece they write. Don't be discouraged if your first attempts don't sound exactly like you imagined – keep practicing, keep experimenting, and most importantly, keep writing.

Your unique voice and perspective are what will ultimately make your prose beautiful. These techniques are simply tools to help you express that voice more effectively. Use them, adapt them, or discard them as you see fit. The most important thing is to write in a way that feels authentic to you and brings you joy.

Happy writing, everyone! 🖋️💖📚 - Rin T

Hey fellow writers! I'm super excited to share that I've just launched a Tumblr community. I'm inviting all of you to join my community. All you have to do is fill out this Google form, and I'll personally send you an invitation to join the Write Right Society on Tumblr! Can't wait to see your posts!

[strawberrymatchawhore]

i like freaks

"i'm a freak, is you a freak? cause i like freaks, boo. he ate my coochie, first night, yeah, i made him chew"

sitting on ur favs face!!

from faye- i know this isnt what i usually write, but i wanted to start incorporating other fandoms into my account . hopefully you all stay and enjoy it!! pls keep suggesting and asking :))

warning/s- DUBCON? drunk freakyness, dry humping, face sitting, fingering, aggressive fav!, one night stand, implied sex at the end, multiple rounds, overstimulation, fav wants u so bad he basically creamed his pants from eating you out

:(( switchy fav!, etc…

you always thought of yourself as a girl with higher standards, a girl that was too good for “one night stands”. however after countless days of non stop studying and a mix of work, your friends decided to go on a nonnegotiable girls night out.

why not go clubbing ?

after downing a multitude of drinks and dancing to your hearts content, it was no surprise when your dick deprived ass brought home the finest man in the building.

perhaps it started off as innocent kissing at the club, but the both of you sat here at this moment. sloppily making out on your fluffy couch.

“mmm” you groaned into his mouth, grinding your wet clothed cunt deeper onto his hard on. the both of you only in your underwear, suddenly he grabbed harshly onto your hips and dug his long slender fingers into the fat of your hips. surely to leave marks in the coming morning.

“f-fuck stop.” he whimpered, his soft plump lips slightly open. light breaths leaving his mouth.

“whats wrong? youre that sensitive?” you teased, desperately trying to gain the friction you lost again. he didnt budge though. he played with the band of your panties and with a quick pull he ripped them and lightly tossed you off the couch.

“i want you to sit on my face”

you stood above his laid out body, he smirked at your frame. clearly you were nervous by the way you were clenching your thighs together. never in your long years of life had a man asked you to do that.

what if you were too heavy?

what if you suffocated him with your thighs?

“yeah im not so sure abou- eek!!” you shrieked when his strong arms pulled you to his face. forcing you to straddle over him. you could feel his breath on your pussy, you clenched over nothing. and before you could even let out another protest he drove straight in.

his tongue licked up and down your sopping pussy, his hands massaged your ass and you immediately went to grab at his soft hair.

“oh.. oh my god.” you let out a satisfied moan and ground your pussy onto to his tongue. he continued to lap at it, he teased you by licking slowly up and down your folds and sucking on your swollen clit. practically drinking all the juice that leaked out of your pussy.

you were so fucking wet for him, and he loved how you tasted. he just had to feel you on the inside as well. he used his free hand and reached under your ass, he gave it a harsh smack before using the pads of his two fingers to slowly sink them into your cunt.

matching the rhythm of his tongue he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you. your moans and whimpers filled the room, your eyes were clenched shut at the intense pleasure and pure bliss you were feeling.

“please please please” he moaned into you, lapping faster and fucking his fingers into you at the same pace as well.

“baby you taste so good, are you gonna cum for me?”

“you gonna be a good girl? yeahh keep fucking grinding on my face i dont wanna breathe.. put all your weight on me slut c’mon” he stopped for a second before he started to devour you again.

you basically went nonverbal at the way he was treating you, this man was sent by the gods. how was he good looking and at the same time know how to treat a woman?

“im gonna cum.. fuck fuck fuck! feels so good keep going please. yes yes yes…” you cooed as your stomach tightened, you uncontrollably squeezed your thighs around his head as you came all over his tongue.

he didn’t stop there though, you didnt even realize that he came with you. he was so loud when eating you out. he used his big beefy biceps to hold your hips down when you pushed on the couch arms to try to get yourself out of his grip.

“oh! i think im gonna cum again, please stop.. please. oh shit!” you screamed when you squirted in his mouth, soaking his chin.. his neck.. probably the couch cushions as well.

he finally let you go and you laid down next to him, leg over his. your face rested on his chest, he looked down at you and laughed at you practically almost being passed out.

“dont fall asleep on me now.” he grabbed you and made you straddle his bulge.

“m’ tired, your mouth killed me.” you groaned hugging him.

“whats wrong? youre that sensitive?” he fired back, and you gasped jokingly hitting his chest. you felt his cock twitch and you smirked. grinding your cunny over his leaky tip, he let out a low moan and grabbed your hair to kiss you.

“let me stay the night yeah?”

[ervotica]

“C'mere, sweetheart-“ & “Breathe, just breathe-" with finnick please 🤍

a life of our own

pairing: finnick odair x reader

summary: finnick helps you find yourself again when you’re rescued from the capitol. you’re desperate to trust him again.

warnings: hurt/comfort, a lil fluff, a lil angst, r was tortured and brainwashed in the capitol after catching fire (i got sooo carried away with this but i luv it! hope you enjoy, please remember to like/comment + reblog!)

hunger games masterlist

Your chest is red-hot with anguish; it’s all you feel lately. Confined to this white room, locked in, spending all your time waiting for something that won’t come.

Nothing is real anymore. Your life is a thick fog that you can’t decipher, can’t tell which bits of it are real and which were planted by the Capitol. They made you a weapon against the revolution, against Katniss and Coin and Finnick.

You know him, that much is evident in your unconscious reactions. The way your chest tightens and squeezes when he walks into a room, how your breath catches and you hunger after his touch despite not knowing exactly why. But you know that he’s familiar and that - at one point or another - you loved him.

He visits routinely like clockwork, every day at around the same time. And each time you don’t push him away, don’t flinch at his touch like you do the others, his confidence grows.

Your doctor has been practicing memory games with you, which parts do your life are real and which are fabricated. You repeat them in your head over and over and sometimes they slip out when you’re talking, too. You’ve been incorporating opinions on top of the basic facts you know, and you’ve been including what you know about him.

You rock on the bed with your knees to your chest, feet tucked underneath you as you recite everything you can remember about him. You mutter it under your breath, tongue clicking as you whisper.

The door creaks and you stop dead mid-sentence. Finnick slips in without a word, pulling a chair up to sit by you. He doesn’t miss the way you eye him warily, watching every movement, every tick of his jaw and twitch of his muscles. You’ve always been perceptive- it’s one of his earliest memories of you. How you watch people.

He sits and watches you in return; you trace every inch of his body with your eyes, the bruises on his arms, the points of his shoulders, the slope of his nose and chin, the curve of his jaw.

“Finnick,” you say. He smiles; his fingers rest on the edge of the bed.

“That’s right.”

You reach out to touch him; he stays dead still as instructed by your doctors, but lets you lift his hand to place it in your own much smaller one. You turn so you’re sitting cross legged facing him, holding his hand in your lap. His heart could burst with the way you’re looking at him, a cocktail of fear and longing in your eyes. Something else lies deeper than that, like you’re being pulled through the rubble of your own mind and to the surface. Something a lot like love.

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice is small, more timid than he’s ever heard from you.

“Anything.”

“You love me. Real or not real?”

“Real,” he murmurs.

“I think I love you, too. I know I did before. I just don’t know which parts of my brain are real.” You fiddle with his fingers, the pad of your thumb rubbing over his knuckles methodically. If this is the only way you’ll ever touch him again, he’ll take it. He’ll take every scrap, every morsel of affection he can eke out of you. Whatever you’re comfortable with.

“We can figure that out together.” He’s soft as he speaks to you and it’s a voice that you remember. A very distinct one in your memory.

“Finnick,” you say again. He nods and shifts closer.

“Sometimes you call me Finn,” he starts, pressing lips to your knuckles. “Or honey. Or idiot if you’re mad at me.”

You smile and he catches a glimpse of you in there, engulfed by everything you’ve seen, everything you’ve been told. But he knows he can pull you out.

“I don’t think I’d ever be mad at you,” you mumble. He purses his lips thoughtfully.

“Well, sometimes I am an idiot. And I know you tell me that because you want to keep me safe.”

You’re in agreement there, not knowing everything but knowing undeniably that you would do anything to protect Finnick.

You shuffle over in the bed and tug at his arm. He tilts his head curiously, knowing what you’re asking but not wanting to be presumptuous.

“You want me to come sit up there with you, sweetheart?”

“Yes please.”

“Okay.” He settles himself next to you, legs outstretched where yours are tucked up tightly to your body. “If it gets too much, you tell me and I’ll go, okay?”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Then I won’t.”

You shuffle round and swing your legs over his own so you’re almost completely in his lap; his arm comes up and over your shoulders automatically, like muscle memory. This is how you are in your clearest memories- together, a tightly knit partnership. He’s holding his breath, waiting for you to realise what you’re doing and lose composure, but that moment doesn’t come. You just sit and close your eyes, ear to his chest, listening to his heart beat.

“I’m tired,” you croak.

“You want me to leave you to sleep?”

“No.” Your voice is thick and uneven where you’re full of all these new emotions that you can’t quite place. “Will you stay?”

“I’ll stay as long as you want.”

He pulls the thin blanket over your body and smiles as you needle in close to him, face in the juncture of his neck. Hiding with him instead of from him.

“C’mere, sweetheart.” You relax at the pet name, your body going lax against his own as you start to fall asleep.

You can’t be asleep for more than 30 minutes before you start to stir. You’re muttering in your sleep as you start to twitch and reach out for something.

Your brow knits and it forms a crease in the middle of your forehead as you start to cry.

“Honey, c’mon,” Finnick murmurs, his hand pressed to your neck in an effort to rouse you. “It’s just a dream.”

His chest aches; he can’t bear seeing you in this state, knowing there’s not much he can do to make it better. Thinking it’s his fault for not getting to you in time.

You scream and wake with a start, wide-eyed and frantic. Your eyes flit around the clinical looking room as you try to gauge your surroundings and reorient yourself.

“Honey, it’s okay. It was just a dream, you’re safe.”

You scramble back and push him away, curling yourself up into a ball at the foot of the bed. Tears paint your cheeks and they shine in the harsh white lights, hiccuping sobs. He crouches a metre or so away, palms up, arms outstretched in hopes you’ll make contact again.

“Breathe, just breathe,” he says. “You’re okay. I’m here, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

You’re like a wild animal the way you look at him- panic-stricken and agitated, frenetic in the way you move.

“Honey, it’s me. It’s Finn.”

You swallow thickly and nod, your body slowly starting to unfurl.

“Finn,” you sniffle, holding out your arms. “Finnick.”

He creeps closer still and you practically throw yourself into his arms, face against the hollow of his throat, arms locked around his middle like a vice.

“I have you. I’m right here,” he says, over and over like a mantra. A promise.

“I don’t wanna live like this anymore.”

“You’re not going to,” he whispers. “I’ll be here until you feel well enough and then we can start planning our life. Together.”

“Okay.”

Your fingers card through the short hairs at the nape of his neck, wet eyes meeting his.

“I love you. I know it now, I can remember that.”

“I love you too,” he says, craning his neck to meet your eyes. “You’re my girl.”

You’re hesitant as you tilt your head up to press a kiss to his lips but he welcomes it, his thumb and forefinger holding your chin in place as he pecks you a few more times.

“We’re gonna have a life of our own, I promise.”

“A life of our own.”

[ros3ybabe]

🎀 Hobbies 🎀

I feel as tho I don't have much time to do things besides school, work, some chores, and survive right now, but I've been thinking about some hobbies I enjoy and would like to incorporate into my life when I decide to make the time without burning out!

Reading - I used to be big on reading just about any books I could get my hands on. Then I was really focused on reading self help, and now that I haven't been reading at all, I've been thinking about getting back into reading. Always looking for book recommendations, and I do have my eye on some books I'd like to purchase.

Gardening - if I had the time and space, I'd love to have a flower garden or a vegetable garden. It always makes me happy when the fruits of my efforts come to life, so tending to plants and gardening sounds super fun and relaxing.

Video Games - I used to play video games on and off, but I wouldn't mind owning a PS4 or a Switch and spending some time playing video games whenever I'd want time to wind down.

Cooking/Baking - I love learning things, and the sense of pride I've gotten in the past when receiving praise for things I've cooked or baked has really driven me to want to increase my skill. I've only baked something from scratch once in my life, but I'd really like to expand my skills in making desserts.

Exercise - I'm talking all forms of it! Dancing, martial arts/kickboxing type activities, yoga, pilates, running, swimming, spin/cycling, weight lifting (again), calisthenics, all of it! I don't currently look like the exercise type but I find various forms of movement to be so fun! If I had more time, I'd be trying new things all the time!

Volunteer work - This is something I used to do all the time, and it's a hobby that I enjoyed that kept me humble. Not only that, but I thoroughly enjoy showing kindness and compassion to others. Making a difference in anuwau brings me so much joy, and I love meeting new people and learning their stories. I also would love to volunteer with animals, because they deserve so much love and affection too!

Drawing/Art - I used to draw for fun but when I started college, I didn't have the time to devote to continuously increasing my art skills. I still own a sketch kit, coloring materials, and several sketchbooks so it really is a matter of having time.

Crochet - The thought of making things that I can gift to others seriously makes me so excited!! Crochet seems like such a fun, crafty, relaxing activity and the added fun of gifting those crafts to others would make it so fun!!

Scrapbooking - I don't know if I'd ever do this one, but I do Ike the idea of keeping my memories in a physical space, and not just in like pictures on my phone.

Learning - if school wasn't crazy busy, I'd spend all my time learning languages (ASL, Japanese, Spanish, Korean, Mandarin, Italian, etc), computer coding skills, how to make and do certain things, just anything I can do to keep my mind enriched.

Upcycling/Altering Clothes - I would love to upcycle or alter articles of clothes into more personalized pieces for myself. The thought of having a personalized, hand made closet full of clothes makes me really want to buy a sewing machine and learn how to use it to my advantage!

That's all I can think of for now that I'd like to someday incorporate into my life. Having hobbies is always so fun, but I've been so busy and tired that I don't mess with any of the hobbies I'd want to do. If anyone has any tips for time management, or resources for beginning new hobbies, please let me know!!

til next time lovelies 🩷

[elizabethrobertajones]

summer scions!! I absolutely love the new portraits for all their smug happy expressions. Except Y'shtola, who is not going to deign to give a camera a proper saucy look because that's silly. Urianger is smirking twice as hard on her behalf.

Glam review under the cut!

I unlocked Alphinaud first of the twins and didn't know Alisaie had a little necktie yet, so I'm deducting a point from my first impression because the sheer delight that he had a silly little necktie of some sort no matter the situation delighted me so thoroughly. Since they're still engaging in matchy twin dressing to some degree, I have to assume they either like it and won't admit it after digging in so hard, or Ameliance sent them off with cute outfits and matching backpacks, and they still don't really shop for themselves.

He's got the practical watch/compass gloves which are good for a technically proficient Sage and probably the most practical gear he's ever worn except for when he was poncho Alphy, but wearing ankle-length jeans seem like the least weather-appropriate choice of the Scions if we assume their average skin coverage is a good weathervane for the temperature in Tural. I chalk it up to teenage awkwardness.

8/10 unless he and Alisaie chose their outfits themselves, in which case it's a 9/10

I think Alisaie is the only Scion to keep a single piece of their default gear, and those are her usual gloves. She's colour-matched around it.

Because of the gloves and boots, she looks the most ready for hardcore hiking, somehow, and her matching Alphinaud with a cute button down shirt with rolled up sleeves along with that particular choice of baggier shorts (when she normally wears more form fitting shorts) do give me the closest to butch vibes it's probably likely to get for main characters. So I'm giving her an extra point I stole from Alphinaud for the lesbian vibes.

9/10 or 10/10 if she made these choices all by herself.

Everything about this cracks me up, from his portrait above to the image of him tanking open shirted once he pulls mobs.

Believe it or not, he's getting an additional point for those shoes simply because the competition in practicality in tanking is G'raha.

I had a moment of excitement when I thought the necklace was pink because that's always a cute Ryne/Minfillia thing fanartists give him with ribbons and such, but once I got zoomed in on him it was red, so I guess he's just been shopping. Although, the turquoise shorts are her eye colour and the actual large diamond shapes are secretly Mothercrystal coded in those colours, which just cracks me up that you can pick out one of the worse days of his life (Urianger's grand Warrior of Darkness plan) in his Chill Summer Beach Vibes look.

Douchebag beach bro shell bracelet as well, which really makes me double down on him and Urianger spending way too much on tourist bait along the stalls in the Famous Turali Market. The hat and sunglasses are giving him one of the Most tourist-y looks thematically reflecting how a lot of the Scion guys were just here to hang out, narratively or literally. Maybe he's trying not to get such an intense tan again, which is the only reason he's not entirely topless.

11/10 I could not stop laughing when I got him and Urianger to 100 and Beheld The Brilliance in the same moment.

Please note the raised sunglasses in Urianger's portrait, which are not the model his character uses.

I am delighted that I had been incorporating that island watch into my healer glams on both the logic you need to know your clock positionals but also they're largely the smarty pants jobs (WHM being vibes only aside - it gets its own glams :P). And here's Urianger and Alphinaud both using watches.

Now, I had a moment of being vaguely disappointed he had trousers not a skirt or something else swishy and androgynous, but then I did realise that I, a nonbinary weirdo who relates to Urianger since he made me nonbinary, have actually gone to a couple of garden parties dressed in some variation of this exact outfit of light trousers and a nice button up. Plus, the earrings are in both ears, so no "Google, which ear is the gay one?", these are just straight up cute femme dangly earrings with his favourite little dudes on.

More importantly, the colours he's repping are those of Lopporit Radio. He probably tunes in every night for his broadcasts :')

Mirrored sunglasses for the guy notorious for keeping thoughts and plans close to his chest and choosing deliberately to be enigmatic even when it serves zero purpose except for I guess gender affirming care. (The gender is Weird Bitch.)

I can't tell how I feel about those dad sandals. I suppose it depends if he's wearing them like a fashion model (brand new and clean with perfect pedicured feet) or if those are REALLY dad at the beach-like and, since I'm not a foot person, this for me is only a choice between "not off-putting" and "AURGH".

9/10 the proximity to Thancred hauls him up several points of misgivings I had, and the lopporit shout outs are killing me :')

I unlocked Y'shtola last and holy fuck I am a lesbian. I don't even recognise where those boots come from, so either a really expensive glam or something I just have not stumbled on. She has toe rings I think? And painted nails? I have no idea if the garter (?) is part of the boots glam or a custom thing as result of not recognising the boots and how much of them is normal. I feel like they customised a lot on her anyway - the back of her top has purple beads that match her staff (not dyable on the real piece)

and I think the necklace has to be part of the top instead of a separate necklace piece with the way it hangs, AND the bracelets are a glove piece with the original summer glam, but I assume they're layered with the false nails, also in the glove slot. All in all it's giving the sort of effort which is starting to creep up to what I'd expect from the modding community not the game. I mean, not THAT good but getting close. Baby steps towards what fandom can make :P

She really is god's favourite meow meow.

Anyway I can't really judge this fairly because it's really hot and I love her so I'm just going to give it 100/10 and move on. :)

how did I get a picture where Estinien looks like he's stooping to get in the frame...

The fact he has Azure Dragoon Blue Top and then Violently Nidhogg Fuchsia shorts is the colour theory that absolutely killed me. When he lights up during his burst and starts glowing pink all over his shorts are like. Taking him over like the eye once did I think.

love a guy who can embrace his past trauma and dress to match all that has passed before and all that he intends to do now (kill something large and tasty, grill it on the beach, fall asleep with a beer in hand until the waves come in and wake him up).

I gave him that wooden bracelet in the glam he has on my desktop screen so once again I'm feeling weirdly vindicated.

Other details: no ponytail despite the warm weather because he's got enough ventilation. The fact there's cactaurs on his shirt when he's on record for eating them is amazing. We should imagine he's wearing his jobstone like that pendant (since he's one of the only guys with a confirmed jobstone despite being the Guy Without A Job notoriously that one time.)

Unlike Thancred's hat and sunglasses combo, which seems fun and boisterous somehow, he seems the most walled off of all the sunglasses wearers even though he's not the most mysterious. The visor really helps make it a sort of wall. Maybe just because his terse upfront personality and somehow despite his clothes horse habits THIS amount of whimsy seems the most out of character at first glance, but he DOES look uncomfortable to me.

Somehow I find everything about this outfit excellent for his character but also like maybe he was forced into it, everyone cornering him and telling him the Scion Beach Party was a mandatory work event and he was not allowed to beg off of it and he did put some work in expressing himself but also is going to go find a much quieter corner to lurk in for the day, when not competing with Thancred (can't grill, loves it) for the barbeque (Estinien can grill, would only do it because the threat of Thancred doing it wrong is too high).

confused 7/10 mostly because I think Krile is blackmailing him and not because I don't love everything about this.

Here's how G'reenha Tia can still win -

Anyway here's the deducted point for tanking in flip flops (PERFECTLY acceptable BLM gear btw but he's Mr Versatile.)

(I joke but the main character of my novels is a flip-flop wearing menace who could and would tank in them)

Between the padlock and key necklace and the woven bracelet right after we all went feral over the Thavnarian bracelets for couples thing so recently (and Corvos is just across the water!) he's absolutely dripping cutie pie love interest coding yet again.

(Also yes I know the lock and key thing is very funny because we were introduced to him learning he was a fancy key to a big door.)

Gains a point back because the other green g'raha thing is I'm pretty sure people use this shirt glam because it kinda looks like it has weed on it.

Don't quote me on that, vibes only.

Anyway he came colour coordinated (with his original eye colour and hair colour not the bright Allagan dalamud red dye that goes with his normal outfit) so so precise and neat, like he's going to some sort of formal event, and even with flip flops he really does seem incredibly put together like the twins or Y'shtola, just for full outfit cohesiveness.

As someone who would hold G'raha's hand on the romantic gondola vibe, 10/10.

3 out of 10 and a huge cringe if you would not. He's got to stop Striving.

Hey it's the star of the show!! Adorable hairstyle out, cute plot-important earring on, and wearing her exact character colours but adorable beach wear :)

I love that she looks kind of like she went to the girls for advice and got the top from Y'shtola and the shorts from Alisaie, and she probably was very serious and stressed about getting this right even though there's no rules and no one's judging her -

oops.

Anyway the ballet shoes are adorable and go with all the cute picto spins and twirls :)

I think the strict colour scheme does speak to the slight lack of fleshing out she got so far in the story (we don't really have any real character reason that picto in particular spoke to her and this glam isn't one of the many fun takes people had on how to dress to meet that brief ). I don't think DT did more than just repeat that she's serious and sweet and trying really hard to get out of her shell and be more fun and creative and also she's been practicing dodging really hard she shouts mid-Trust combat (bless her). But ALSO getting out of the shell is really hard and she only found out everything and got some closure in the final level 100 quests so there wasn't really much to do with her after that.

This is like her First Non-Plot-Critical Whimsy Moment and losing the hood or any cat ears entirely (and there are perfectly functional cat ears to wear in game) is a good step considering we know she wears it precisely because she needed a sort of advance PR campaign to make her look cute and approachable before she opened her mouth and started bringing down the vibe (serious scary children are SO funny though and i love that for her). Having the same top as Y'shtola is a good thing for trying to make her less childish and have her trying to show that now as she takes this huge step out from the background. I mean, it still has a slight sense of her costuming herself and pushing herself out of comfort zones as she always does, but it's 100% in character so I adore it.

1000/10 because Krile is great and there's so much going on here and it's so fun when a character's whole personality is a costume and then they're like aurgh wait do I even want that??

[sleyu]

DATING JAMES POTTER INCLUDES . . .

PAIRING: JAMES POTTER X READER

GENRE: FLUFF & SMUT

If anyone is boyfriend coded, it's James.

James is so desperate for your attention. It’s fully up to you how you would react to the stunts he’d pull and all the nonsense he’d say for you to spare just a mere glance at him, but as soon as you do, he’s not shutting up for days. So much so, you’d find Remus on his hands and knees, begging to give James a chance so that he could finally study in peace.

When James falls in love, the person he is infatuated with and the things in relation to them is the only thing that remains in his mind.

‘Ugh,’ he thinks, ‘Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop is an eye sore.’ But wait, ‘Y/n loves pink. I ought to bring her here next time.’ He thinks.

James, contrary to what he makes himself out to be in front of his friends before meeting you, abandons any sense of his pride and ego when it comes to his girl.

Before falling in love with you, James would scoff and snicker at couples around Hogwarts, at people holding hands, cheeks flushed and eyes starry-eyed, as they’d walk together in Hogsmeade.

Meeting you, falling in love with you—finally making you his—made him love every corny, cheesy aspect of being with someone, completely endeared and left sheepish by their every breath and movement.

During ’ O.W.L.S. or any test for that matter, one could steal a glance at James, only to see him absentmindedly writing down your initials with a heart right beside them on his parchment, looking almost bored at his otherwise empty paper.

Anytime he would find himself stuck on a question, he would sigh happily, putting his quill down and all his focus on you, trying to find you sitting in the exam hall, smiling in amusement at the look of determination on your face.

James being in love means him attempting to look for your face during every quidditch match, upon every win, and during every loss, trying his best to search for your reaction. All he wants is for you to see him in his glory, and no amounts of pats on his back or the cheers he receives from crowds compare to the feeling of your thumb caressing his cheek, or your hands softly patting him on the head, telling him how proud you are of him and how you couldn’t take his eyes off him.

James finds it tough to admit and often struggles to communicate it, but he needs your praise. He needs you to tell him that he did good, that he looks handsome, that he’s brilliant for his latest prank, and that no one else compares to him. Of course, it’s an ego boost for him, but behind his egotistic front is a vulnerable, questioning man who doubts himself often, wanting nothing more than to prove himself to you.

‘Did I do good, love?’ he’d ask, desperation seeping from his honey-like voice, as though he’s unable to wait for your answer, fearing the possibility of your displeasure. ‘Please tell me I did.’

Of course, this manifests in your sex life. James needs praise always and rarely ever incorporates degradation into his lovemaking. He not only tells you how pretty you look for him, how good you feel wrapped around his leaking cock, but also begs you to be vocal, to communicate your pleasure and to tell him that you only belong to him and that no one else could make you feel as good as him.

‘Need you to tell me, baby—fuck! Wanna make you feel good—wanna make my good girl feel good—god.’

‘Tell me—tell me you love me. Say it again—need to hear it again,’

James begs that you leave a kiss mark on his cheek for ‘Good luck,’ right before a quidditch game.

The mandatory uniform for Gryffindor Quidditch matches is James’ jersey. Nothing fuels his pride and his absolute enamour for you more than seeing his last name plastered across your chest and back, proudly and visibly displaying your support for him and only him.

After a big win, you can expect to be fucked in the jersey. James swears he’s never cum faster than he has when he took you from behind and watched as your back arched; the name, ‘Potter,’ printed upon your trembling body as though it was a mark of ownership and loyalty.

Dating James means that he’s treating you as though you’re made of glass. Gentle touches and grips to your waist as the two of you walk in the school corridors, and adoring coos when he sees you slump against him, tired from a long day.

‘My poor angel. Always working so hard, yeah? C’mon, I’ll take care of you.’

He’d rather die than hear you call him by his name. To James, calling him by his name means that you’re treating him as though he were any other person when he isn’t. He needs to hear the affection laced in your words. The soft, gentle mumble of ‘baby, darling, Jamie, honey,’ is all he seeks to hear from you and he practically crumbles against the gentle caress of your hand on his cheek when you refer to him by a pet name.

‘James,’ you sigh, exasperated. Your boyfriend furrows his eyebrows, ‘That’s baby to you!’

During the summer, he’d insist you attach a photo of you with every letter you send him, whether it’s you on vacation or simply in your room, he has to get his fill of you.

He’d spend so much money on little trinkets for you, little items he would pick up from the sneaky Marauders Hogsmeade trips.

Sirius would huff as James pulled him into a stationary shop, ‘James, can we please stop making pit stops? We have 30 minutes left.’ James shook his head, grinning to himself as he picked up several pretty pens he reckons you’d love, ‘Need to supply the missus with gifts, Pads.’

James would be so happy once you begin warming up to the Marauders. His favourite people loving his favourite person? It’s his dream come true and as soon as he sees you bickering with Sirius, having long and insightful discussions with Remus, and casually hanging around Peter, he knows he’s going to be with you for a very, very long time. He’ll make sure of it, he decides then.

James would most certainly carry your bag as he drops you off to class. The first time he attempted in doing it, the two of you were tugging your bag for five minutes, arguing with each other about who would carry the pound of weight on your shoulders. He won, much to your dismay, but a surge of warmth bursts through him the first time you hand your bag over to him mindlessly, without him asking or fighting you for it, as though you had expected him to do it. He treasures these moments in your relationship where he begins to realize that habits between the two of you are beginning to grow and that you both are becoming used to being such an integral part of each other's lives.

He constantly tells you that you’re his everything and that all he does is for you and only you.

Study dates with him are entirely pointless as they never lead to actual studying as James cannot survive five minutes without your undivided attention on him. What do you mean you have to read a textbook for an hour? No periodic breaks to kiss your boyfriend or to coo at him? The only way actual studying will get done is if you promise him a kiss for every correct answer he gets—but we all know where that’s leading to.

He was the first one to say, ‘I love you,’ in the relationship. He would probably say it very quickly as he had known he loved you before the two of you dated, but he’s entirely fine with you wanting to take your time in dissecting your feelings for him.

Until you say it back, with every night and morning kiss, every departure before class, he’d whisper a giddy, ‘I love you, darling,’ to which you’d smile bashfully. Once you do say it back, he’s smiling like an idiot for two weeks straight. He would be almost annoying about it, like a child on Christmas Day. He’d tell you that he loves you repeatedly only to hear you say his four favourite words: ‘I love you too.’

[algae-tm]

PEOPLE, PLACES, THINGS

Max Verstappen x anthropologist! Reader

Author’s note : this smau has a special place in my heart, if you haven’t noticed I’m not Caucasian, but was born and raised in Nigeria and a lot of my university life has been centred around studies of the black diaspora. My masters research is on homosexuality and Afro-syncretic religions, so have been trying to figure out how to incorporate it so thought I’d go full send and thus this was borne.

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peopleplacesthings just posted

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peopleplacesthings: I spent three years (give or take) with the people of the Bahia state in Brasil, researching the afro-syncretic religion of Candomblé. My research paper on the gender roles within Candomblé (how men express masculinity, and the role of women as spiritual leaders) will be published online where everyone will be able to access it. Can’t wait to see where the world takes me next!! 🌎🇧🇷

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yourbsfuser: y/n baby I love you and your big brain, but please take a sabbatical 😭. stay in the UK for a while.

— peopleplacesthings: what’s in it for me? 🤨

— yourbsfuser: seeing your family and friends???

— peopleplacesthings: sorry gotta blast, the world is waiting 🏃🏿‍♀️

user10: your masters research on the linguistic appropriation of AAVE was vital for me completing my dissertation! Thank you so much

— peopleplacesthings: passing down knowledge is the key to preserving culture! I love when I get comments like this, well done my love.

lewishamilton: so you’re free now?

— peopleplacesthings: until my next adventure

— lewishamilton: good to know

— user10: not SIR LEWIS HAMILTON in my old TA’s comment section

— user7: IK 😭 she was a guest lecturer at my uni like one month ago! Really my two worlds colliding 😭😭

— user8: how do they know eachother???

— user9: I’m guessing they must have met one of the times Lewis was in Brazil??

— peopleplacesthings: he is my cousin! he’s much older and way less attractive than me so that’s probs why you couldn’t see the family resemblance🙂🙂

yoursisteruser: 2 back to back research papers… you could use a break from work

— peopleplacesthings: it’s not work if you love what you do 🤗🤗

— user17: 2 research papers??? How old is she?

— user19: she’s actually done 3! One for her masters which was only 15,000 words and then 2 more, her 2nd was for her PhD and she’s published her last two as books. She’s 28 if I’m not mistaken. I’m not a stalker just obsessed with her work!

— user17: oh so she’s SMART smart

— user19: bro she’s DOCTORATE OF ANTHROPOLOGY smart

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peopleplacesthings: I can check getting papped reading in the park off my bucket list… maybe I should start a book club! Anyways everything is a learning opportunity so I am currently reading Nervous Conditions by Tsitsi Dangarembga. Don’t be so surprised that I read fiction! Nervous Conditions is a valuable case study in cultural anthropology due to its rich exploration of themes related to post-colonial identity, gender, and cultural conflict. If you take my post-colonial anthropology module in September, this will definitely be on the further reading list. Come read with me! 📚 📚

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user1: are we sure this is the woman max is dating…

— user3: I was just wondering that, so out of left field 😭 😭

— user4: I mean what do they even have to talk about? She just lectures him all day?

lewishamilton: how can I take your class if I’m not enrolled in the university?? 🤨🤨

— peopleplacesthings: you can’t! Hope this helps

— user5: jeez she’s so rude…

— user9: who does she think she is????

— peopleplacesthings: Dr. Y/n Y/ln that’s who I know I am

user11: so is anthropology all she talks about, or does she have hobbies…

— peopleplacesthings: I happen to think my field of anthropology; the study of societies, people and culture, is quite interesting. But no I am a person I contain multitudes anthropology is not all I talk about.

user6: not y’all invalidating a woman with a literal doctorate just because she MIGHT be dating your fav… pls touch grass

— user13: that’s what I’m saying! If anything she’s WAY out of Max’s league, hasn’t he only ever read like 2 books?? (liked by danielricciardo)

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peopleplacesthings: We DTR’ed!!

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lewishamilton: DTR?

— peopleplacesthings: Define the Relationship apparently

— lewishamilton: my how the tables have turned, miss I don’t date drivers.

— peopleplacesthings: DR* I don’t date drivers. And what can I say my commitment issues are no match for Max Verstappen

danielricciardo: you’re welcome!

— user4: what could you possible have done

— danielricciardo: I told max to grow some balls that’s what! I’m the architect of this relationship

— peopleplacesthings: you and Lewis can fight over that title

maxverstappen1: WE DTR’ED!!!!

— peopleplacesthings: hell yeah we did!

maxverstappen1: I love you schat ❤️💙

— peopleplacesthings: 🥹 I love you too

you doofus

maxverstappen1 just posted

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maxverstappen1: Did it hurt when you fell from your culture’s dogmatic view of an afterlife?

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peopleplacesthings: I think that’s the sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me

— maxverstappen1: there’s more where that came from

— peopleplacesthings: oh shucks not in public maxie

— danielricciardo: this is the weirdest foreplay I’ve ever witnessed

user14: how did a man that drives in circles manage to bag my anthro professor??

— user16: shouldn’t that be the other way round???

— user14: if you ever attended one of her lectures and saw her in action you would know the answer to that question is absolutely not (liked by maxverstappen1)

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[little-diable]

Bad Omen - Tyler Owens (smut)

This was somewhat requested by a lovely anon reader, so I tried to incorporate it as much as I could. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Reader and Tyler have hated one another with a burning passion for years, but when they get stuck in his dying truck with a tornado nearing both seem to realise that their reasons for hating the other aren’t as valid as they thought they were.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (f), reader gets slightly hurt, enemies to lovers, some angst

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem!reader (2.8k words)

“Tell me this is a fucking joke, Owens!” Sweat was pooling on her forehead, adding to the clammy feeling she hadn’t been able to shake for the past minutes. Curses rolled off his tongue, words she couldn’t spare any attention to as her surroundings began to close in on her. “Tyler!”

Her panicked voice managed to rip him out of his own state, fully focused on getting his truck to start again. Both had been stuck there for a good ten minutes, being shaken from one side to the other as his truck died in the middle of a field. They were surrounded by nothing but a wooden barn the nearing tornado would rip apart any minute now. 

“Would you shut up for a second, (y/n)! I’m trying to save our fucking lives here.” She had known that driving with Tyler had been a mistake, a mistake she had made only for her friends to get some bonding time with Boone and Lily. A mistake she was now paying the price for while being stuck in his truck without a way to reach their friends. “Fuck, of course this only happens when you’re around.”

“What is that supposed to mean? I’m not some bad fucking omen.” A groan ripped through Tyler at her spiteful words, a sound that was swallowed by the cries of the nearing tornado. Both were staring at it, heavily swallowing as it dawned on them that they had no place to hide, unable to find shelter in the truck that would normally be secured to the ground. 

“Stop putting words in my mouth, (y/n)!” Anger dripped from his words as Tyler kept fumbling around. He was too distracted to pick up on the tears welling up in her eyes, too distracted to fully notice the panic she was swallowed by. Fears buzzed through her mind, fears that grew louder with every passing second. 

“Fuck, I don’t want to die with you by my side, that’s the worst scenario ever.” Her words drew a laugh from Tyler who stared at her for a second or two. The whole thing seemed surreal, not once had his truck died on him before, not once had he worried about his safety while he was driving it straight into a tornado, all until today. 

“Trust me, darling, you’re also not my first choice to spend the last minutes of my life with.” The truck was rattling from the heavy winds, shaking them while (y/n)’s hands darted out to stabilize herself. Another shake followed seconds later, too powerful to catch herself before her temple connected with the metallic outline of the window, forcing a pained groan out of (y/n). 

“Shit, are you alright?” Her reply was swallowed by the sound of Tyler’s truck roaring to life, drawing relieved sighs from both while he managed to secure the truck. Her shaking hand found her temple, unable to bite down a hiss as blood coated her fingers. She felt his eyes on her, quietly watching (y/n) before he reached for her chin, tilting her head in his direction. 

“Does it hurt?” She barely understood the question, drowned out by the sounds of the tornado which was about to swallow the truck. (Y/n) tried to ignore the concern dripping from his words, concern that also swam in the bright pupils wandering over her features. 

“Of course it hurts, you dipshit!” Tyler let go of her instantly as if her skin was suddenly burning him. His jaw muscles ticked in anger, eyes focused ahead while darkness momentarily swallowed them. (Y/n) reached for her backpack to press a tissue against her wound, hissing once again as the thin fabric made contact with her skin. 

“What did I ever do to you for you to be such a bitch whenever I’m around?” Tyler’s words drew her glassy eyes back to his angry features, breath getting stuck in her throat as her eyes found his. (Y/n) had to look away after a few seconds, trying to ground herself before finding her voice again, solemnly focused on Tyler and not on the tornado both had been chasing for most parts of their morning. 

“How can you even ask me that? Did all the chasing shake your memory? You fucked me over the first times we met, Owens. You left us behind while we counted on your help.” Her voice was cold, fuelled by the anger thumping through her veins like a drug poisoning her system. Everything in her screamed at (y/n) to chase the distance, to move away from Tyler as quickly as possible. She had been too close for too long already, needing to get away from the man who made her feel all kinds of things she couldn’t put a name on. 

“I fucked you over? You stole my data, all that work was lost because of you, of course I didn’t trust you no more!” Tyler’s voice boomed through the truck, almost as loud as the tornado had been. Her mind was racing, knowing that she hadn’t stolen anything from him which left her wondering what he was talking about. 

“I didn’t steal shit from you, why should I? We work on different areas, Owens. Your data wouldn’t help me.” No longer was she close to screaming, no longer was her voice guided by anger and hate as it slowly began to settle in that both had been stuck in heavy miscommunication for a while now. 

“But only your group was around that week, and Michael.” A “Fuck” left Tyler seconds after he had ended his sentence, wondering how he could have been that stupid. Of course, it had been the sketchy guy he had been forced to work with on the project, a guy who had bailed on Tyler at the first given chance, blaming (y/n) and her team for their mishaps. 

“Seems like you need to work on your people skills, Owens.” Chuckles broke out of (y/n) as she shook her head at him, followed by a groan as her headache settled in. 

“Let’s get you to a hospital, and then we’ve got some talking to do.“ 

…… 

“Who would have thought that a massive band aid would look that good on you.” Tyler shot her his signature smirk while she found her way back to him. She was a bit uneasy on her trembling feet, too shaken by the last hour and the emotional whirlwind both had been caught in, from thinking they were about to die to realising that they got to live another day where their enemy slowly turned into somebody else. 

“Shut it, Owens.” She rolled her eyes at him, brushing past Tyler but being unable to escape him due to the fingers that found her belt loops, pulling her back in. (Y/n) collided with his broad chest, having to place her hands against his shirt before she could lose her balance. 

“How about a thank you, huh?” He was walking a fine line, risking another spiral of anger she’d instantly pull him into, but the smile tugging on her lips told a completely different story. (Y/n) stared up at him for a second or two before one of her hands wandered up his neck, pulling him down to her to brush her lips against his ear.

“For a thank you you will have to work harder than that.” And with a soft chuckle clawing through (y/n), she pushed Tyler away to make it out of the hospital. He stared at her for a second or two before snapping out of his trance, unable to bite down his grin while jogging after her. 

His hand clamped down on her wrist, once again forcing her to a halt before she could open the passenger door of his truck. (Y/n) found herself getting lost in his bright eyes, not used to the sudden warmth his touch now pushed through her instead of the anger she no longer felt. Both moved at the same time, getting lost in one another’s embrace while he dipped his head down.

But before he could kiss her, Tyler angled his head to the side, brushing his lips against the corner of her mouth, “You’re playing a dangerous game, darling, and I ain’t one for losing.”

……

“C’mon, don’t fall asleep on me, darling.” Tyler was sitting on her motel bed, pressed against (y/n). They had shared dinner a while ago, finding shelter in the dark room while she tried to stay awake, all because of her doctor’s orders. 

“Well then do something to entertain me, the movie sucks.” Her chuckles rang in his ears, sounds that made his heart beat faster as he gazed down at her while her eyes found his. Tyler pondered over his choices for a second or two before he tilted his head down and kissed her, softly pressing his lips against (y/n)’s.

It took her a second to give in to the touch, allowing her hand to find the back of his neck to pull Tyler further down towards her. Their lips kept meeting, sharing desperate kisses that were fuelled by the emotions both were still a stranger to after deeply hating the other for the past years. A hate that had always been accompanied by a form of lust and longing for the other, longings they had never dared to even think about for longer than a handful of seconds.

Tyler shuffled around to hover over her, keeping her trapped between him and the bed while her hands moved from his neck to his shirt, slowly popping open the first few buttons. Her fingernails scratched at his skin as she tried to push the fabric down his broad shoulders, leaving him to groan at the feeling of her skin pressed against his.

For a second, he interrupted the kiss, chasing the distance to rid himself of his shirt. (Y/n) had seized the moment to reach for his belt, unbuckling it with a kind of urgency that made both their hearts race even faster. Her shirt followed moments later, exposing her bra-clad chest to his wandering eyes - a sight that made his cock twitch in his tighter growing jeans. 

“Lean back, baby, let me do the work, you shouldn’t move much.” His voice dripped with lust, a low growl that shot shudders down her spine. (Y/n) sank back into the pillows, watching Tyler move closer to slowly undo her bra. Within seconds he had latched onto her right nipple while his hand palmed her left breast, making her sigh in relief. 

Tyler seemed to know exactly how she needed to be touched, how to draw her closer to the edge she’d eventually fall from. He was everything she hadn’t known she needed, while he had deep down always known that having (y/n) would mean his end. Every second was cherished by the both of them, though while Tyler tried to calm himself, (y/n) silently prayed that he’d move faster. 

“Tyler,” his name rolled off her tongue like a Sunday morning prayer, repeated over and over again. Their eyes held contact as he kissed his way down to her jeans, undoing them with skilled fingers to pull them down her legs with her panties in tow. And there she laid, naked in front of him as he thanked his lucky stars for pushing them into this mess. His fingers itched to take a picture of her, needing to remember this very moment until he’d take his last breath, but the sigh of his name forced him to move again. 

“Shh, I got you, baby. Let me take care of you.” With her thighs spread for him to settle between, Tyler kissed his way to her aching core. His calloused fingertips felt rough against her pulsing bundle, adding enough friction to get her to arch her back. (Y/n)’s eyes fluttered close the second his tongue brushed her folds, groaning at her taste. 

“Oh fuck, Ty’, need more.” His chuckles vibrated on her skin, making her shudder while he pushed two fingers into her. Her walls fluttered around his digits, curled against her swollen spot while he sucked on her bundle. Moans clawed through (y/n), knowing that he was pushing her towards her orgasm all too quickly. 

“You taste so sweet, how could I have missed out on this for so long.” Tyler’s groans made her chuckle - sounds that bled into moans as he sucked on her clit again. She gave it a few more seconds before pushing him away, leaving him confused while she tried to catch her breath.

“Fuck me, make me cum on your cock.” Her whispered words made him groan, forcing Tyler to move to get rid of his jeans and boxers, exposing his aching cock to her eyes. (Y/n) made a silent note to suck him off later tonight, needing to feel him rest on her tongue. 

She watched Tyler rip open a condom with his teeth, rolling it down his cock before settling between her thighs again. He hovered over her, had one hand pressed to the mattress next to her pillow, while the other held onto her hip. Their eyes stayed connected as he pushed into her, leaving both groaning in relief. 

“You’re even tighter around my cock, you’ll be the death of me, darling.” His words felt like praises, making her lightheaded and aching for air to flood her gasping lungs. Her walls fluttered around him to pull him in deeper, allowing Tyler to push fully in before pulling out again, set on a slow rhythm. 

“Faster, please.” An almost devilish smirk tugged on his lips, his bright eyes twinkled with mischief but his thrusts stayed slow, calculated almost. 

“You can’t move too much, baby, gotta take care of your head.” Her teeth were buried in her lower lip, leaving marks while she stared up at him with annoyance laced in her gaze. Tyler could only chuckle at her while fucking into her deeper, clearly enjoying her struggling. One of her hands found his cheek, pulling him down for a kiss while wrapping her legs around his waist.

Both groaned in unison as she tugged him in closer, wondering how they fit together so perfectly. Too much time has been lost over the last years, time they could have spent just like that, pressed together in the most intimate way imaginable. Time they now had to make up for, chasing highs and lows together, giving in to the emotions they had to adapt to, all while falling in love with one another. 

“Stop teasing me, I don’t care about my head.” Her words left him chuckling, spurring him on to move a tad bit faster - but not nearly fast enough to push her closer towards the high she was aching for. 

“Ask nicely for it.” It was a simple command - a command she’d normally curse him for with calling him all sorts of names. But she was desperate, aching for her orgasm only he could push through her now.

“Please, Tyler. Fuck me harder, make me cum.” He didn’t reply verbally, only moved faster with a smirk resting on his lips. She left marks on his back with her fingernails, making her shudder against him while her free hand found her aching bundle of nerves, giving her the needed push.

Tyler watched her fall apart beneath him, a sight that left his chest swelling with pride. His hips kept meeting hers, fucking her through her high while his own moved closer. With a deep groan Tyler followed her down the edge moments later, forehead pressed against hers, hand fisting the bed sheet. 

He pulled out of her, got rid of the condom and found his way back to her to pull (y/n) against his warm chest. Both were chasing their breaths while clinging to the other, allowing it all to finally sink in. 

“How’s your head?” Tyler’s whispered words made her smile, pressing a kiss to his naked chest before allowing her eyes to find his bright ones. She cupped his cheek with one hand to feel his stubble pressing against her palm, cherishing the calm moment that felt all too new to them both.

“Not hurting, thank you for taking care of me.” She pressed another kiss to his chest before letting her head drop against it, hearing his slightly accelerated heart pound in his chest. 

“Anything for you, baby.” 

[kpopfanfictrash]

The Ten Days of Ex-Mas (M) (Pt. 2)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre:  Holiday / Second Chance!AU / Hockey!AU

Pairing: Jimin / Reader (F)

Synopsis: Three months following the worst break-up of your life, you finally feel ready to start moving on. The world, it seems, has other ideas when you pick up the phone and find your ex-boyfriend calling.

Jimin Park, star right winger of the NHL and (until recently), the love of your life, has a very large problem. Despite the courage he regularly shows on the ice, in his personal life, Jimin is kind of a coward. When you broke up this fall, he could barely admit it. Not to his neighbors. Not to his friends. Not even to his family, who are expecting him home for Christmas. In a desperate plea for more time, Jimin begs you to pretend you’re still dating – and to his surprise, you agree. Faced with a second chance, Jimin is determined not to squander it. If only fixing a relationship were as easy as falling in love.

Word Count: 44,416 (19K in part 2)

Author’s Note: Part of the Jingle All the Way collaboration with @leahsfavefics, @kithtaehyung, @yoonia, @cybrsan, and @sugaurora! Unfortunately, due to the new Tumblr text post limitations, this has to be published as multiple parts. THIS IS NOT THE START OF THE STORY. Please read Part 1 first, here.

Rating: 18+

NSFW Warnings: oral (F), multiple orgasms (F), fingering, sex in a semi-public area (brief), breast play, spanking, masturbation (M, F), dirty talk, mention of toys

A/N: all collab fics incorporate the phrase, "the holidays aren't so bad with you around."

A/N: This is not part 1. Read part 1 here.

“Jimin!” Hana cries, plowing into his legs. “Y/N! We’re skates!”

Lifting your brows, you crouch to boop her red pom-pom hat. “Of course, you are!” you say. When Hana runs off, you stand and lean closer. “Do you think she meant they have skates, or that we’re pretending to be them?”

“Guess we’ll find out,” Jimin chuckles, taking your hand to cross the street.

You seem surprised but continue, falling into step alongside him. If pressed, Jimin could say he’s holding your hand because you’re around his family but truthfully, that’s not why. He’s holding your hand because he hasn’t touched you for twelve hours, crumbling something vital deep in his chest.

Jimin’s mom waves you over to where they’ve occupied several benches. “Welcome,” she says, gesturing to the group. “The girls picked out skates for everyone – correct sizes, of course.”

Stifling a laugh, Jimin looks at the skates. Of course, the twins picked them out since they’ve chosen only the most ridiculous concepts. Each year, a main Garland attraction is the infamous holiday ice skates. Imagine a Christmas staple, and there’s an ice skate for it. Snowmen skates wait for Jimin, complete with tiny carrot noses.

“How did you know my favorites,” you gasp, bending to reach for your candy cane skates.

“Cuz we’re smart!” Ari yells, wriggling free of Hoseok’s arms.

Jisoo grabs her by the waist, picking her up to sit down on a bench. Jimin takes you by the hand again, leading you to a semi-secluded bench. Glancing over your shoulder, you watch as he drags you away from his family.

“Sit,” Jimin demands, and your eyes widen.

Somewhat flustered, you obey. “Jimin,” you hiss when he kneels before you. “No one is watching us. You don’t have to…”

He lifts a brow. “I don’t have to do anything, Y/N.”

You fall silent when he begins unlacing your boots, setting them aside on the cold ground. Jimin doesn’t miss the way you shiver when his hand curls around your ankle, nor the look on your face when he scoots even closer.

“Jimin…”

Flashing a wicked smile, he looks up. “Yes?”

A lump moves in your throat when you swallow. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Brows lifted, Jimin leans forward, pressing his shoulder against your inner knee. He begins tying the laces, taking his time to savor the closeness. By the time he’s finished, you’re glowering darkly.

“Up,” you demand, switching places.

Jimin shouldn’t be turned on by how easily you walk in skates, nor by the bossy edge to your voice as you kneel.

“Is this what you wanted?” you ask, your gaze burning. Placing both hands on his knees, you lean forward. “To tease me?”

“Tease you?” Jimin looks you up and down. “Right now, I feel like the victim here.”

Pushing yourself to stand, you nudge him with your foot. “You can put on your own skates, Park. Last I checked, you got paid to do this for a living.”

“Usually, they pay me to play in the skates. Not just look pretty.”

Your lips tilt. “Are you calling yourself pretty?”

Wordless, Jimin tosses his hair as he stands from the bench. Eyes wide, you realize your gaze drops to his skates, already tied. Leaning in, Jimin brushes your arm with his palm.

“That depends,” he says lowly. “What do you think?”

Your gaze focuses on him. “Your looks haven’t changed that much since September, Park.”

His eyes darken. “Stop calling me that.”

“What – Park?”

Brows lowered, Jimin steps closer. “You sound like you’re about to scold me.”

You snort. “Scold you? Who do you think I am?”

“Stop changing the subject.”

“What even is the subject?”

“What about my looks has changed since September?”

You pause to survey him. “You… well. Your hair,” you admit.

Uncertain, Jimin reaches up to touch it. “My hair?”

“Yeah.” You nod, transfixed by his fingers. “It’s longer. It–” Cutting yourself off, your lips press together. “It looks nice, that’s all.”

Jimin hovers a second, wishing you’d continue but the moment is interrupted by your names being called. Turning his head, he spots Jisoo and Hoseok stepping onto the ice. Hoseok has both of Ari’s hands, while Jisoo has Hana.

Heart dropping, Jimin pieces two and two together. When you arrived on Thursday, the oddest expression crossed over your face at the twins. And later, while making cookies, you often were silent. Jimin chalked this up to the strangeness of your arrangement, but only now realizes the full implication. Ari and Hana must remind you of the false pregnancy, and the events which came after.

On instinct, Jimin takes your hand again. You glance down, surprised, but Jimin is already walking, pulling you with.

Although you stumble a little, you follow. “How do you walk in these things every day?” you demand, gesturing vaguely.

“We usually wear them on ice, not the sidewalk.”

“Hilarious.”

Arriving at the rink, Jimin removes his skate guards and holds out a hand. Handing them off to his mom, Jimin opens the gate to step onto the ice.

For a moment, the world fades. This is the reason he plummeted when he wasn’t sure if he could skate again. This feeling, this rush of freedom – Jimin has felt it on the ice ever since he can remember. Your hand is grounding, keeping him steady through the inner turmoil. Taking a deep breath, Jimin pushes off on one skate to bring you with.

Across the rink, Hoseok and Jisoo lead their daughters around. Seeing them, Jimin can’t help but smile. Jisoo was raised on the rink and can skate circles around most of their friend group.

“They’re so cute,” you sigh, following his gaze.

“Who? Jisoo and Hoseok?”

“I mean, sure,” you laugh, eyes crinkling. “But I was talking about Hana and Ari. No matter what your dad says, Hana is definitely going pro.”

Jimin sees a moment of realization cross your face. A few months ago, the idea of his dad disapproving would have crippled him. Now, Jimin feels sad, but he knows he’ll get through it.

Tightening his grip, he moves closer. “Want to know a secret?” Jimin says, skating backwards to face you. Both your hands end in his, letting him pull you.

“Obviously.”

Jimin grins, spinning you in a circle. “I got her lessons for Christmas with my old teacher. Just for fun, but I think she’ll enjoy it.”

“She absolutely will,” you say, smiling so wide, Jimin’s heart hurts. “Speaking of…”

Turning his head, Jimin spots Hoseok skate past with Ari. They wave as they go, Ari’s scarf flapping in the wind.

“So slow!” Hoseok calls, as Ari laughs. “Seems like that NHL thing really was a fluke, Park…”

Jimin’s brows lower, enough that you laugh and let go of his hand. “Go on,” you tease, skating backwards. “Catch up to them.”

His gaze lingers on you as you leave, watching you glide across the rink with ease. Turning around, you weave between patrons as the ends of your scarf flutter behind you. Jimin remembers the first time he brought you home for the holidays. Until then, you’d given him nothing but a hard time with his hockey fame. Pretending not to know the rules, the players or even the sport – although he often caught you Googling what certain terms meant.

The first time you came home, Jimin’s parents were the ones who suggested ice skating. Jimin was hesitant, thinking you didn’t know how, but once you stepped onto the rink, his jaw dropped. Although you aren’t a professional, you took lessons as a kid and somehow maintained your graceful ease. Somewhat embarrassingly, that was the morning he caved and broke his no-sex-in-the-childhood-home rule.

Body tightening, Jimin locks in on you as you skate away. Similar to seeing you wearing a new cosplay, watching you skate circles is enough to draw blood to a very specific part of his body. Pushing off with one foot, Jimin starts slowly around the edge of the rink. Several heads turn, but he ignores them entirely. Glancing over your shoulder, you notice him watching and laugh, purposefully crouching to gain momentum.

Lips twitching, Jimin adopts a similar stance and goes faster. He barely outpaces his slowest round at practice, but that’s fine. To everyone else, Jimin is practically flying. As one of the shortest players in the NHL, Jimin makes up for what he lacks in stride with his speed. Offensive positions require agility, something which happens to be his main strength. Wind cuts his face as Jimin makes a turn that would send lesser skaters sprawling.

Leisurely, he approaches you from the opposite side. Glancing over your shoulder, you frown, losing visibility.

“Gotcha,” Jimin says, grabbing around your waist to speak in your ear.

You yelp, twisting around to avoid tangling skates. “No fair,” you laugh, still in his arms. “You’re a professional. You cheated!”

“Which one is it, princess?” he teases, prompting a startled breath.

Licking your lower lip, you glance sideways and Jimin feels his body lock. Continuing to skate with his arms wrapped around you, he can barely decipher his train of thought. You face forward quickly, but not fast enough – Jimin knows that look. Your pupils are dilated, eyes wide with lips slightly parted. That look connects with his lower half in a way that makes skating distinctly uncomfortable.

“You can’t call me that,” you say under your breath.

Despite this, your hand tightens in his, not letting him go.

Jimin leans closer. “Call you what?”

“Any name other than the one chosen at birth.”

“Oh, I see. So, if I say Y/N.” Jimin dips his tone. “That’s fine?”

He feels your shiver, sliding his thumb along the side of your palm, and–

“Y/N!”

You start, jerking upright when Hana skates by holding onto Jisoo. Jimin falls behind you, somewhat embarrassed he let things go so far. As much as he wants to call you princess and get you to admit that you want him – he wants more than simply desire. Something like that happening would only muddy the waters.

Ari skates past as well, begging you to join, which you do with a dutiful nod. Jimin watches you go, skating to the edge of the rink and stepping outside. Pulling on guards, he clomps towards the hot chocolate stand to buy you a cup. While he waits, a familiar hat sidles up alongside him.

“Hi, mom,” he says, smiling downward.

Jimin’s mom wraps an arm around his waist and squeezes. A lump forms in Jimin’s throat, one he manages to swallow. The past year has been hard, forcing tough conversations to be held over the phone. Worse than losing his health, Jimin felt that he lost the support of his family.

“You two looked good out there,” his mom says, moving up in line.

Jimin lifts a brow. His mom never says something she doesn’t mean – a fact that he envies. Bringing your relationship up means she has something to say.

“Thanks,” he says, waiting for the rest.

“I hope we didn’t make you or Y/N uncomfortable last night. You know the last thing your father and I want is to pressure you.”

Shaking his head, Jimin moves forward. “You didn’t – don’t worry.”

“Mm.” Her lips thin. “What were you doing, going out late with Hoseok?”

Jimin’s eyes widen. Shit. Exactly like his mom, to lead with something soft, then go for the kill. A hockey strategy Jimin has employed often, with great success.

“We… I, uh…”

His mom pats him on the arm. “Every couple has their difficulties, Jimin. I’m not going to pretend every obstacle is surmountable – only you can decide that – but running away will solve nothing.”

Stunned by her accuracy, Jimin shakes his head. “I thought she wanted space,” he admits. This much, at least, is true.

“Space is good,” she agrees. “But only when asked for.”

The couple before them in line finishes paying and leaves. Somewhat dazed, Jimin moves up and orders three hot chocolates. Stepping aside to wait, Jimin turns to face his mom.

“That’s good advice,” he says slowly.

“I know.” She smiles. “That wasn’t what I wanted to talk about, though.”

Jimin lifts a brow. “No? Could’ve fooled me.”

She laughs. “No,” she admits, linking arms. “I wanted to check in on you, dear. You’ve seemed a little… well, off lately. It’s been a while since we last talked.”

Jimin can hear her concern, the utmost care she’s taking in having this conversation. His heart aches, knowing she must have rehearsed this talk often. Truthfully, Jimin didn’t mean to pull away from his family. It became almost second nature to avoid having an argument.

“Well,” Jimin says. “This season has been tough. I wasn’t sure how it’d be… being back on the ice. And I didn’t think you or dad would want to hear about that.”

Gripping his elbow, his mom turns him to face her. Her gaze has turned serious, an indent between her brows. “Jimin. I always want to hear about your day. Okay?”

He blinks several times.

“I’m sorry,” she exhales. “I know I wasn’t… I was scared, seeing you so badly injured last year.”

Jimin presses his lips together. “I know.”

“But,” she adds, fierce light to her gaze. “That’s not an excuse for making you feel this way. Your career will always scare us, Jimin.” She holds up a hand at the look on his face. “No, I want to be truthful. Your career will always scare us, but darling, I’ve watched you skate since you were three years old. I see your face on the ice. I’m sorry for asking you to give that up. It was selfish.”

Something rent apart mends in his chest. Before Jimin can respond, three hot chocolates are placed on the counter. Smiling, his mom accepts one and hands him the rest.

“Don’t feel like you have to say anything back,” she chides, guiding him towards the rink. “I only wanted to make sure you knew.”

“No – no.” Jimin shakes his head. “I’m trying more often to express how I feel. Mom… the way you and dad acted hurt me. For a while, it felt like everyone in the world was against me, and I didn’t know how to convince them. Or myself.”

His mom blinks several times. “I understand that,” she says quietly. “And I’m sorry, dear. I’m here for you, whatever you decide – I promise.”

“And dad?”

Lips twisting, she glances across the rink, where his dad sits on a bench. Not skating, simply watching Hana and Ari be towed around. Seeing this, Jimin understands what she means. His dad still has a long way to go.

“It’s okay, mom,” he murmurs.

She frowns. “No, it’s not. But he’ll come around, Jimin – I know it.”

“Yeah.” Releasing his breath, Jimin looks across the rink and catches your eye.

You grin widely, hand in hand with Ari as Jimin smiles. Something Dr. Nygard once said comes to mind. He told Jimin it was normal to want the attention of others, but it wasn’t healthy to shape one’s entire reality from it. For a long time, Jimin only believed he was good if other people said so. Only thought he could want something when other people agreed.

The moment you asked if you could take a break, all Jimin heard was you didn’t want him. Rather than stay and fight for what he believed in, he left and now, it’s up to him to convince you things are different. Being without you cast things in perspective. No – Jimin doesn’t need your approval to live the life he wants.

But the life he wants to live has you in it.

“I can’t believe you didn’t bring pain meds this weekend,” you huff, digging around in the endless void you call a purse.

Sheepish, Jimin shrugs. “My tailbone felt better. And then, I don’t know… sitting for hours on a flight didn’t help.”

Stunned, you glance upward. “You’ve been hurt since the flight, Jimin?” you ask, failing to keep your anger in check. “Why are you only telling me now?”

Amused, he crosses both arms. “Y/N,” Jimin tsks. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you cared.”

Simultaneously annoyed and aroused, your gaze darts towards your purse. Yanking free a bottle of ibuprofen, you shake out two pills. “Here,” you insist, thrusting them forward. “Take these and be quiet.”

Partly, your dismay stems from this being your fault. Jimin mentioned he was injured outside the house, but you were too mad to hear and made him sleep on the couch. And now, you’ll be the reason for Chicago’s losing streak. You can already hear the disparaging Twitter comments.

“Be quiet.” Jimin accepts the pills to throw them back, dry. “Thanks, Y/N.”

You stare, horrified. “That’s disgusting.”

“You get used to it.”

“Nope,” you say as you turn away. “I don’t think I would.”

Jimin chuckles from behind, catching up when you push open the door to the shop. Once everyone had their fill of ice-skating, you went with Jimin’s family to a lovely place for lunch. Afterwards, everyone broke into pairs for late Christmas shopping. It seems everyone is missing one gift or another, resulting in a need for covert alliances. Jisoo went off with her mom, while Hoseok went off with their dad and the twins.

The fact that you ended up alone with Jimin hasn’t escaped you. Briefly, you wondered if Jimin’s mom was behind this to give you some privacy but banished the notion. If this were the case, she likely would have just said so. The thought makes your face heat as you enter the shop.

Things today have been… different when it comes to Jimin. First, there was his apology in the car and then, the whole skate-tying incident. Merely the memory makes you shiver, recalling the feel of his hand on your ankle. Not to mention his cryptic phrasing, insisting he should have stayed – last night. Or possibly more.

Frustrated, you glance around the stationary shop. For once, you wish Jimin would just say what he means. Then again, you suppose two can play at that game. You weren’t exactly honest when you asked for a break.

Covertly, you glance sideways and find Jimin’s cheeks reddened. Infuriatingly, he looks even better than the day before. Darkly, you wonder if he sold his soul to a witch or is involved in some sort of Dorian Gray situation.

Turning around, Jimin catches you staring. “What are you thinking?” he asks, moving closer.

Rather than fan his ego, you ask something that’s been bothering you the past hour. “I saw you talking to your mom at the hot chocolate stand. What was that about?”

Jimin stiffens slightly, and you stifle a sigh.

Six months prior, Jimin would have brushed aside the question. In the spring, when his arguments with his dad were at their worst, you tried to distract him, but nothing succeeded. Jimin didn’t want to talk about anything, but in every conversation, his mind was elsewhere. You shouldn’t be surprised this is still true but somehow, you hoped.

“Hockey,” Jimin answers, and your face jerks up. “My mom said she was always going to worry about me playing, but she apologized for asking me to give it up. I think…” He pauses. “She may have been giving me her blessing to re-sign? Not that I need it,” he adds, a bit thoughtful.

“Jimin,” you gasp. “That’s amazing!”

“I know, right?” He smiles. “There’s still my dad, but it means so much to me that she said that. And… I mean, I can’t wait around for them to approve of everything, can I? I need to do what’s best for myself.”

Slowly, you nod. “You do.”

He meets your gaze. “I wanted to thank you, actually.”

“Thank me?”

“Yeah. You told me that, and I didn’t agree. I just… I wasn’t ready to hear it. In a way, when you left, it forced me to examine some hard truths about myself.”

Again, your heart sinks. You’re glad Jimin has his therapist and they’re helping to change his outlook. On the other hand, it sounds as though your leaving was an uptick in his life.

“Ah,” you say faintly. “I see.”

Jimin cocks his head. “When you said you wanted a break, all I heard was that the last person to believe in me no longer did. I know that’s not fair,” he adds, seeing your face. “But that’s how I felt. It was easier to fall, to hit rock bottom… than to pull myself out.”

You consider this – and him – for a long moment. In September, you really weren’t in a position to listen. The rapid elation and depression of thinking you were pregnant, coupled with fear from a year of anxiety, resulted in a potentially harmful reaction. Jimin deserved more than what you gave.

“I shouldn’t have come to you like that,” you say quietly. “It wasn’t fair of me to just… spring that on you without explanation. I should have asked you to talk. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t blame you, thinking I wouldn’t listen.”

“Maybe,” you say. “If I could go back though, I’d do things differently.”

“Me, too.”

For a while, you stand there and let the words sink in. Frequently since the break-up, you imagined what it would be like to see Jimin again. You wondered if he’d be angry, whether he’d ignore you or cast blame for what happened. Rarely did you imagine he’d apologize, or that he’d taken steps to address what happened this fall.

And maybe that was another mistake you both made – assuming the other person couldn’t change or wouldn’t want to.

Then, another thought occurs that makes your heart sink. Jimin’s mom is fine with him extending his contract. The entire reason you came here was to lessen the difficulty of two pieces of bad news at once. With one in the open, it’s not necessary to continue the charade.

For a moment, you debate whether to say something and instead, you turn smoothly and pluck a card from the pile.

“Look at this one,” you say, holding it up to the light. “Do you think Ari would like it?”

Glancing at this, Jimin tilts his head. The card is covered in glitter, to the point where the pictures and words are rendered obsolete.

“I think it’s perfect,” he says with a laugh. “Look, there’s another glitter one for Hana.”

Selecting them both, you head for the cashier. Jimin diverts to check out a large stack of board games in the back for his uncle.

“You check out,” he says, waving you onward. “I’ll meet you at the register in a minute.”

“All right,” you say, turning away.

Bypassing the colorful pens near the register, you place both cards on the counter. “Can I have a bag?” you ask as they ring you up.

The cashier nods, setting to work and you drum your finger against the counter. Outside, it’s started snowing. You can’t help but smile since it never seems to stop snowing in Garland for long. Hopefully, everything will clear up for tomorrow’s Christmas Eve party. Jimin’s family never misses, barring illness or high water.

Behind you, the bells above the door chime.

“Y/N?” A familiar – deeply grating – makes you go stiff. “Is that you? Oh my gosh!”

Smile frozen, you slowly turn. Vivian Wu shuts the door with one hand, casually unwinding a red scarf from her neck. Her hair is luscious and sleek, billowing over her perfect pea coat. When she walks towards the register, you notice cashmere gloves and boots that seem untouched by the salt on the roads.

Continuing to force a smile, you nod. “Hi, Vivian,” you say. “Yep, it’s me. Y/N.”

Coming to a stop, Vivian tilts her head. As the daughter of the former mayor and a politician herself, she’s practically royalty in a small town like Garland. Vivian also happens to be Jimin’s ex-girlfriend, dating him for three years in high school before they broke up when he was drafted. A fact Vivian never really accepted.

Her smile turns simpering. “How nice to see you,” she says, her tone suggesting the opposite. “Are you visiting the Parks for the holidays?”

You nod, suddenly glad for the charade. “Jimin and I are only here for a few days, unfortunately. Are you attending the Christmas Eve party tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. The Parks are such a wonderful family. It’s a shame you only get to see them once a year.”

Although your stomach twists, you remind yourself it’s not worth it. Vivian only acts this way because she’s not dating Jimin – but then again, neither are you. Your heart sinks, realizing you might be looking at your future. Vivian will be thrilled to discover you’re no longer together. You never learned why she disliked you, only that she’s the only other girl Jimin dated seriously.

Your very first visit, you were introduced to her at the Christmas Eve party. Jimin warned you his ex-girlfriend would be there but failed to mention how beautiful – and vindictive – she was. Apparently, the break-up was Jimin’s idea and Vivian loathed having a total loss of control.

That night ended in a harried fight between you and Jimin, becoming the first time he ever said he loved you. Remembering that night, you can’t help but smile – a gesture that widens when Vivian scowls.

“It’s a shame,” you sigh. “I’m sure they appreciate having you looking out for them, though.”

Vivian sniffs, unable to find the insult. “Of course. Anything for Jimin. Speaking of” – she leans in, her Chanel perfume tickling your nose – “I’ve been watching his games and haven’t seen you lately? Is everything okay?”

You instantly stiffen. Despite what you told Jimin, you genuinely hadn’t thought many people would notice. Of course, Vivian did.

“No,” you say sweetly. “Just busy with work.”

“That’s a shame,” she says, her voice implying that, if it were her, Vivian would make herself available, no matter the cost.

You can’t help but bristle, though the scenario is moot. Neither of you are dating Jimin, so there’s nothing to compare. Still, even when you were together, Jimin never expected you to attend every game. That was his job, not yours, he would joke all the time. Both of you were adults with careers.

Tossing her hair, Vivian nods at your hand. “And I’m surprised, Y/N – no ring? Jisoo and Hoseok got engaged after what, two years? And you’ve been dating Jimin for…?”

“Four years,” you say stiffly.

“That’s right.” Her frown deepens. “Four.”

Your tongue is in danger of bleeding from how hard you bite. Vivian’s words have little to do with you, and more to do with the circumstances, but you can’t help but feel frustrated. And hurt.

Smoothly, an arm slides around your waist. “There you are,” murmurs Jimin, pulling you close. He brushes a kiss to your hair, glancing at Vivian. “You can blame that on me, Viv,” he says easily. “Haven’t found the perfect ring yet. None big enough. Or expensive enough.”

Your lips twitch. “Exactly,” you sigh, laying a hand on his chest. “He keeps proposing and I keep saying, ‘nope, try again.’”

Jimin chuckles, nuzzling into your hair. Vivian glances between you, looking vaguely nauseated. You can’t say you blame her.

“How nice,” she mutters.

“Anyways.” Glancing around, Jimin grabs your bag from the counter. “We really should get going. It was nice seeing you, Vivian.”

“You, too,” she huffs, brushing past to the board games.

As soon as she’s gone, your smile drops. “Thanks,” you exhale, slipping out from his arm. “I… well, I wasn’t sure what to say to her.”

Jimin catches you around the wrist.

You hesitate a long moment, then turn. Two days ago, the rules of the game were clear. No kissing with tongue. Jimin sleeps on the couch. And no need to pretend when no one else is around.

Gaze drifting upwards, you find yourself unable to decipher his expression. Slowly, Jimin pulls you closer to casually fix the scarf around your neck.

“Let’s head home, okay?” he murmurs.

You nod, not trusting yourself to respond to him with words. Outside, on the street, Jimin comes to a stop. Exhaling briskly, he turns sideways to face you.

“I just…”

Dropping your wrist, Jimin shoves a hand through his hair.

“Jimin, it’s okay,” you say, stepping closer. “I don’t blame how she acted – really. Being on the other side, like this…” Lamely, you shrug. “I guess I understand how Vivian feels. That’s all.”

Jimin stares at you, wide-eyed. You think that must be it, and attempt to walk past, but he grabs your wrist again.

“Y/N,” he says sternly. “You are nothing like Vivian. Okay?”

You blink, glancing down at his hand. That’s twice in two minutes he’s touched you like this. Gaze snapping upward, you frown.

“Am I?” you demand. Stepping closer, you stand nearly nose-to-nose. “We’re both your exes, Jimin. I can’t imagine how much it would hurt to watch you parade someone else around town. God, just thinking about you with someone else drives me crazy. I’d be an asshole to future me, too.”

Dipping his head, Jimin inhales. “That’s not going to happen,” he murmurs into your ear. “I wouldn’t be worried about that, if I were you.”

“What does that –”

“Y/N! JIMIN!”

Adorable interruptions seem to be your curse this weekend. Tiny arms crush your knees as, looking down, you find Hana grinning.

Bending, you scoop her onto one hip. “What’s this?” you gasp when she hands you a bag. “Did you buy me a Christmas present all by yourself?”

“Mhm,” she says proudly. “We got you new gloves to wear when you watch Uncle Jimin play.”

Hoseok groans as he arrives. “Girls, that was supposed to be a secret. Remember? Y/N was going to unwrap the gloves on Christmas.”

Ari frowns, tugging on Hoseok’s coat. “But then the present would tell her, not us.”

You can’t help but laugh as Jisoo and her mom walk up behind you.

“What’d we miss?” Jisoo asks, taking Hana.

“Hoseok was explaining the concept of presents,” says Jimin.

“Oh, good. Any success?”

“No,” Hoseok grumbles.

Everyone laughs, and Jimin’s dad flips his keys. “Are we all set?” he asks. “I thought I’d make hot chocolate back at the house.”

“Yeahhh!” yell the twins, immediately taking off.

Snow starts to fall as you leave the town square. More holiday music plays on the drive, and you find yourself dutifully humming along. Despite what you said, there are several noticeable differences between you and Vivian. You might both be his exes, but Jimin only asked one of you home for Christmas.

And only one of you has the opportunity now to make things right.

By Saturday evening, Jimin regrets asking Hoseok for help. He might mean well, but Jimin’s brother-in-law is the least covert person on the face of the planet. Indeed, he’s done more to detract from Jimin’s goal than to add to it. All day, he’s tried to create alone time for you and Jimin with mixed results.

At dinner, Hoseok leaves a chair open next to Jimin – only for Ari to claim it. Afterwards, the family gathers to watch a movie and once again, Hoseok tries to set him up on the sofa. Unfortunately, Hoseok miscounts, and Jisoo is forced to squish between Jimin and the armrest. Little romance can happen sandwiched between you and his sister.

That’s not to say no romance, though. Ever since the stationary store, you seem to have forgotten your rule about physical contact. While watching the Grinch, you curl into Jimin’s side, holding his hand under a mountain of blankets. Jimin strokes his thumb over the back of your hand, trying and failing not to let his mind wander.

He can’t stop thinking about you and Vivian, knowing the situation is his doing. When he broke up with Vivian, he did it over the phone and barely gave her answers to the questions she posed. He didn’t know how to admit that he wasn’t in love, so instead, he made excuses about distance and hockey. It’s no wonder Vivian hovers now, waiting for you to make any misstep.

The thought of you returning to an ex is enough to make Jimin go wild. His arm tenses on the sofa, despite knowing there’s no reason for him to be mad. Still, it’s all he can think about when the movie ends and you get ready for bed. Bringing his stuff down the hall, Jimin lets you use the bathroom within his room.

The door remains shut when he returns, so Jimin busies himself with making the couch comfortable. He’s debating adding a third pillow when the bathroom door opens, and you step outside.

Jimin nearly drops the holiday pillow he holds. Honestly, he should receive awards for his self-control this weekend. Once again, you’ve decided to clothe yourself – or not clothe yourself – in the skimpiest nightgown known to man. Pink lace skims your generous curves, something you seem oblivious of while crossing the room.

Jimin’s jaw clenches. “What time do you want to wake up tomorrow?”

Gaze skipping past him, you land on the sofa. “You’re not seriously planning on sleeping there?” you demand, folding your arms over your chest.

He forces himself not to stare at your delicious cleavage. “This feels like a trick question.”

“Jimin!” You throw up both hands. “You’re injured! I feel bad enough you had to take painkillers this morning.”

“Oh. Well, don’t feel bad,” Jimin says, bending for the pillow.

“Jimin!”

“What?” He half-laughs as he straightens. “There’s only one bed in this room, and my parents would know if you slept anywhere else. This is fine, Y/N.”

Chewing your lower lip, you glance down. “Unless…”

He waits. “Are you offering to sleep on the couch?”

Your gaze snaps upward. “No.”

A tinge of awareness spreads down his spine as Jimin slowly glances between you and the bed. “Are you…” Jimin hesitates, not wanting to break the fragile truce between you. “Are you offering to break rule number one?”

“Technically, you were the one who offered to sleep on the couch,” you point out. “All I said was we didn’t have to pretend while we were alone.”

“Y/N.”

“Alright, fine!” you huff. “I don’t want to sleep in the same bed. But I’m… retracting that rule, for the good of humanity. Only the bed part,” you warn, shifting your weight.

Seeing you slightly flustered wakes a sleeping beast in his chest. Jimin takes a step closer, realizing you’re not immune to his proximity.

“Are you sure?” he asks, coming to a stop. “I don’t want to take advantage of the situation. I can sleep on the couch, Y/N, and be fine. I promise.”

“Oh?” you scoff, turning around. “And have me be blamed for injuring the ‘best offensive player in the NHL?’ No thanks.”

Jimin stares at your retreating backside. “Y/N Y/L/N,” he says, slowly following you towards the bed. “Have you been watching my games on TV?”

Your fingers freeze on the comforter. “I… I’ve seen a few,” you say, evasive as you pull back the sheets. Slipping beneath the covers, you pointedly avoid eye contact.

Unable to contain his grin, Jimin folds his arms. He doesn’t miss the way your gaze darts towards his biceps, lingering longer than is strictly necessary.

“How many?” Jimin demands, moving closer.

Gaze snapping upward, you scowl. “Enough to know you’re doing disgustingly well. And that every person with half a brain has a poster telling you so on the other side of the glass.”

Coming to a stop, his brows sketch upwards. “You’ve seen the posters?”

Jimin has seen the posters but then again, he’s the one stepping onto the ice every night. Some of the content has been downright suggestive, which it seems you know from your perturbed expression. Jimin knows it isn’t healthy to savor your jealousy – on the other hand, he’ll take anything he can get when it comes to you. Jealousy implies there’s something to be jealous of.

“They’re creative,” you mutter. “I’ll give them that.”

Jimin’s grin widens. Crossing to the opposite side, he pulls back the covers. “I’ve kept track of you, too,” he admits as he joins you.

Startled, you turn over to face him. “You did?”

“Yeah.” Turning off the light, Jimin rolls sideways. “I liked your last outfit. Sundry Sydney?” he says with a snort. “The sticker was brilliant.”

“Some people thought it wasn’t slutty enough.”

“Sundry Sydney is more than a pleasure bot,” Jimin says, quoting you word for word. “She can do everything – or anything, as she later revises.”

You laugh, delighted. “You remember.”

“Of course.” Jimin softens. “I remember everything when it comes to you.”

In the moonlight, he watches your features change. Hesitance follows want in a way that makes his heart ache. Jimin did that. He put this space between you and, almost unthinking, he shifts closer.

“Sorry,” Jimin murmurs when his knee brushes your shin.

You blink. “It’s okay.”

Jimin is aware of each time you inhale, the rise and fall of your chest. The last time he slept next to you, he took it for granted. Now, he memorizes every single detail – your lashes on your cheeks, the weight of your body, the scent of your conditioner from across the pillow. If this is the last night Jimin can lie with you, he wants to remember.

Slowly, the sound of your breathing lulls his eyes shut.

Then next time they open, Jimin only feels heat. Warm, silken heat as he opens one eye and is immediately accosted by the sight of your bare shoulder. Stiffening, Jimin realizes his arm is draped over the curve of your waist. Your face nestles in his chest, fingers curled neatly into the fabric of his t-shirt.

Worse, your nightgown has ridden upward during the night, and Jimin can feel your bare thigh pressed to his. Exhaling softly, he tries to pull back. Under no circumstances can you wake and find him draped over you like the worst kind of leech. You let him sleep in the bed, not sleep with you, which is a crucial difference.

Unfortunately, his attempt at removing his arm only succeeds in rolling you closer. Jimin pauses, reevaluating as your curves press to his. When a mumbled sigh leaves your lips, he nearly gives up.

There’s only so much a person can be expected to ignore. Pressed to your soft skin, memories of past mornings come pouring back. If you were dating, Jimin would be figuring out ways to wake you up with his tongue. As it is, all he can do is close his eyes and pray for his hard-on to die.

“Jimin,” you mumble, pressing closer.

His eyes open. The movement brings your thighs flush together, and there’s no mistaking now, that was his name on your lips. Staring downward, Jimin wonders what you’re dreaming of, and whether or not he’s made an appearance.

Mumbling something, your eyes open. When your gazes connect, Jimin expects you to recoil, waits for the moment you realize where you are and withdraw.

Instead, you blink in a sleepy haze. Tentative, you move your hand higher and – Jimin holds his breath – lightly stroke your thumb down the center of his chest. Jimin hardly dares move as your gaze drops to his lips. Slowly – so, so slowly – you shift your hips forward and part your thighs.

Exhaling roughly, Jimin’s fingers find your thigh to drag over his waist. His hard cock fits snugly against your warm core.

“Oh,” you whimper.

Losing all sense of composure, Jimin tightens his grip and rolls his hips against you.

“Oh,” you moan, your head tipping back.

Dipping his chin, Jimin drags his nose up the heat of your throat. Open-mouthed, he ghosts over the place where your neck meets your collarbone. Panting, you roll your hips as his grip on you tightens. Each line of your body melts against his, driving him crazy.

Moving lower, Jimin brushes the silk hem of your nightgown. Your breath catches when his thumb slips beneath, drawing teasing circles against your inner thigh. One of your hands entwines in his hair, tugging in a way that makes him see red.

“Ah, fuck,” Jimin groans. Grasping your ass with both hands, he rolls on his back and brings you with.

Surprised, you land on top of him. “Jimin – oh,” you breathe when he thrusts upward, pressing his cock against your underwear.

Gaze somewhat hazy, you push yourself upright. Jimin moans at the sight of your thighs spilled to either side, your delicious breasts barely contained by the silk. Not looking away, keeping your hands on his chest, you slowly begin to move your hips. Jimin’s hands slide up to frame your waist, helping you get yourself off on his cock.

It won’t take long, he realizes with some shock. Whatever dream you had got you halfway, based on the way your thighs tremble above him. Lips parting, you moan his name and rock your hips faster. Gripping you tightly, Jimin thrusts upward. His fingers slip down your thighs, edging towards your center, when –

The doorbell rings downstairs.

Instantly, you freeze, your chest rising and falling. Jimin opens his mouth, but before he can utter a single word, you swing your leg off him.

“I – sorry,” you blurt, scooting to stand. “That… shouldn’t have happened.”

Jimin’s mouth shuts. No, probably not, but he also can’t bring himself to regret what just happened. Unlike you, it seems.

“I’m… just going to change,” you rush, practically fleeing into his bathroom. The door slams shut behind you, leaving Jimin alone in the bed.

Wearily, he collapses. “Fuck,” he mutters.

The shower turns on, and his imagination runs wild, replaying the past five minutes. Groaning, Jimin rolls over to stiffly stand. Yanking a sweater and jeans from his closet, he heads for the other bathroom to take care of himself. It barely takes a minute before he comes against the shower wall, chest heaving to stare at the water droplets.

With a clear head, Jimin can feel the full weight of dread in his chest. He moved too fast. Even with you instigating, Jimin shouldn’t have pushed things as far as they went. If he knows you at all – and Jimin thinks that he does – you’re probably freaking out in a separate shower. He needs to assure you as soon as possible that he wants this. Well, he wants you. Not just the physical parts.

Exhaling deeply, Jimin finishes showering and turns off the spray. Toweling himself dry, Jimin dresses as fast as he can to head downstairs. He’s nearly at the kitchen when a hand grasps his elbow, yanking him sideways and shoving him in the front closet.

Stumbling slightly, Jimin turns around and finds himself face-first with Hoseok. Flicking the light switch, Hoseok shuts the door and exhales.

Jimin looks past him. “What are you doing?” he asks, faintly alarmed. “Is everything okay?”

Shaking his head, Hoseok folds his arms across his chest. “No – definitely not. Your dad knows, man.”

“Knows what?”

“He knows,” Hoseok says with a pointed look. “He knows you’re planning to extend your hockey contract.”

Jimin’s heart sinks to the floor.

Coming to his senses, he shakes his head. “How?” Jimin demands. “How does my dad know?”

“Not sure.” Hoseok’s lips twist. “I think he went into town this morning, and some of his buddies told him. Apparently, news of the extension leaked online.”

Jimin is utterly still, already coming up with choice words for his agent. He knew this could happen, despite his request to keep this quiet. Sometimes teams leak the news to increase the pressure on players. Other times, another team in the league does it to spur a trade. Jimin hoped he’d have until the new year but apparently, the choice has been made for him.

“Well, fuck,” he mutters.

Hoseok just nods. “Yeah. I heard your mom and dad talking about it when I came downstairs.”

Jimin pauses, glancing at the door. “Have you just… been waiting out in the hall for me?”

“Yeah. I kept pretending to forget things in our room. Jisoo may or may not have caught on.”

“Great.” Jimin decides to push past this. “Did he… I mean, how did my dad seem?”

Hoseok frowns. “Quiet. I don’t know. He went into his office and didn’t come out until your mom started breakfast.”

Shit. Running a hand through his hair, Jimin exhales. “Alright,” he says. “Well, I guess there’s no point in putting things off.”

“Probably not.”

Nodding, Jimin turns to pull open the door and Hoseok’s hand lands on his shoulder. “Yeah?” Jimin asks, turning around.

“Just letting you know that I’m here for you,” Hoseok says, stepping into the hall. “I may be married to your sister, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

“Thanks, Hobi,” Jimin says quietly.

Squaring his shoulders, he follows him down the hall and into the kitchen. All voices cease. His mom’s spatula clatters against the bowl, and Jisoo falls silent at the kitchen table. Even you turn to face him, a mug of coffee in hand.

Jimin moves forward. “Hey,” he says tentatively. “Good morning.”

“Morning, Jimin!” says his mom, shooting a look at his dad.

Jimin’s dad pushes himself up from the table. “Jimin, can we talk?” he asks, gesturing towards the door. Based on his tone, this isn’t so much a request as a statement.

Although his stomach twists, Jimin manages a nod. “Sure, dad.”

He leaves the room, not looking behind to see if Jimin follows. Taking a deep breath, Jimin follows. When he nears the door, he feels a hand on his elbow. Gripping him tightly, you turn Jimin to face you.

“Hey,” you murmur. “Whatever your dad says – I’m here, okay? I believe in you, Jimin. No matter what.”

There’s steel to your voice, making him believe every word. No hint of weirdness from this morning remains, unraveling an unknown knot in his chest.

“Thank you,” Jimin rasps, gaining the strength to follow his dad.

The door to his dad’s study is as familiar as Jimin’s childhood, known as the only place off-limits to play in. Entering now, Jimin shuts the door and turns around.

His dad sits on the edge of his desk, hands clasped, and face lined. Jimin steps closer, about to plead his case but his dad holds up a hand.

“I think it’s best if I spoke first,” he says quietly.

Jimin stops, then nods.

Exhaling lowly, his dad drags a hand down his face. For the first time, Jimin notices moisture in the corners of his eyes when he looks up. “I heard this morning your contract is up for extension.”

Jimin decides honesty is best. “It is, yeah.”

His dad swallows, and then nods. “When my friends told me… I told them they must be mistaken. I said you would’ve said if that was true, and then they showed me the article…” Steadying himself, his dad continues. “I spent a lot of time this morning thinking about this past year.”

“Oh?” Jimin finds his voice. “What, specifically?”

His dad’s expression shifts. “Jimin, I’m sorry. I never… I never wanted to create a relationship where you couldn’t tell me things. Of course, I don’t want you to get hurt on the ice” – his voice strengthens – “but I know you. I know my son, and you don’t start things you don’t finish. You worked hard this past year to prove everyone wrong – to prove me wrong, and I couldn’t be prouder.”

His voice breaks slightly and, hearing this, Jimin rushes forward. Pulling his dad into a tight hug, Jimin lets out a sigh that sounds more like a sob. They stay there like that, their first hug in nearly a year as Jimin slowly exhales.

For so long, he’s wanted to hear those words from his dad. They feel good, but oddly enough, it feels even better to know he didn’t need this. Jimin has worked hard this fall to divorce self-approval from others. It will always take effort to maintain, but progress has been made, and that makes Jimin happier than anything else.

Pulling back, Jimin’s dad smiles. “We can go back now,” he laughs. “I know your mother made waffles. I just wanted you to know how proud I am of you. And you can talk to me about the contract if you want. There’s no need to keep things from us any longer.”

“Thanks, dad,” Jimin says.

His dad nods once, pulling open the door to gesture at the hall. As Jimin follows him out, you’re the first person he thinks of. Your face, saying you’d support him no matter what. This morning when you sighed his name into his t-shirt. Jimin recalls all the seconds, minutes, days he wanted you by his side this fall and knows he needs to tell you what he wants.

Even if you break his heart, Jimin needs you to know that it’s yours.

Something has changed since this morning.

Well, obviously something has changed. You woke up with your body flush against Jimin, one of your thighs flung over his delicious ass. You nearly came just from dry humping him, already close from the dirty dream you were having – about Jimin, no less. Something has changed though, and that something is you – because you’re no longer concerned about what might happen. About what hurt might befall you if you confess and it fails.

You want Jimin. You love Jimin, you never stopped, and you need him to know that. You just have to figure out how.

That’s proving to be the hard part. Jimin returned with his dad at breakfast, looking relaxed for the first time all trip, and his mom immediately suggested wrapping the gifts. You helped the twins wrap all morning, glitter getting everywhere, and once lunch ended, you needed to get ready for the Christmas Eve party.

Trying to cut down on time, you got ready down the hall – which proved to be a mistake, since it meant you didn’t see Jimin until going downstairs. He went all out this year, and part of you wonders if he did it on purpose. His hair has been slicked, styled away from his face in a wholly devastating manner. He’s wearing a taupe suit he once wore for an interview, a dark turtleneck beneath hugging his pecs in a way that’s distracting.

You only drove two cars tonight, and somehow you ended up in a van with Jimin and his parents. Not that you mind their company – you love Jimin’s parents, but his outfit is rated NC-17. For twenty minutes, you’re forced to sit next to Jimin and not say how good he looks in that suit.

Even at the party, your attention is immediately monopolized by neighbors and friends. Forcing a smile, you nod at the appropriate times in conversation, but your attention is elsewhere. It’s not anyone’s fault, but they just can’t compete with your ex-boyfriend. Slash pretend boyfriend. Slash man you want to be your boyfriend.

An hour into the party, you excuse yourself for the bathroom, shutting yourself in a stall to lower the lid and sit down. From there, you pull out your phone and scroll through the texts.

Namjoon: you did WHAT?! [7:14 PM]

Yoongi: they dry humped, Namjoon [7:16 PM]

Namjoon: Yes, I ‘m aware – my exclamation was one of shock, not confusion [7:17 PM]

Namjoon: what does this mean?? [7:17 PM]

Yoongi: Isn’t it obvious? They’re getting back together. Why else would she fly halfway across the country for Christmas? [7:18 PM]

Scowling darkly, you text them both back.

Y/N: excuse me, I never said anything about getting back together [7:21 PM]

Namjoon: you didn’t need to – Yoongi is right, Y/N [7:21 PM]

Yoongi: per usual [7:22 PM]

Namjoon: you said when you left that you were scared to get hurt because you still had feelings for him [7:22 PM]

Namjoon: well, this is you, having feelings [7:22 PM]

Namjoon: and possibly getting hurt [7:22 PM]

Your scowl only deepens.

Y/N: I’m not going to get hurt [7:23 PM]

Yoongi: … has he said anything about getting back together? [7:23 PM]

You stare at the screen several moments before you respond.

Y/N: no… not exactly [7:24 PM]

Yoongi’s ellipses blink, then disappear and are replaced by Namjoon.

Namjoon: look – no one is saying he won’t ask you, okay? Just… maybe you should talk before dry humping him again. Make sure you’re both on the same page about what this all means [7:25 PM]

Yoongi: what Joon said [7:25 PM]

Yoongi: also – where are you? Hasn’t Jimin noticed you’re glued to your phone? [7:25 PM]

Y/N: no. I’m texting you from the bathroom, smartass [7:26 PM]

Namjoon: go back out there and have fun [7:27 PM]

Y/N: consider it done [7:27 PM]

Returning your phone to your purse, you use the bathroom and freshen up. Once you return to the party, you take a deep breath and scan the crowd.

This year’s Christmas Eve party is at the local ski lodge. The main lobby has been decorated within an inch of its life, the focal point being a gargantuan Christmas tree. Glass windows at the back overlook the ski slopes, butter-yellow light disappearing to shadows.

A waiter walks by with a tray of champagne, and you snag a glass for something to do with your hands.

“Y/N!”

A familiar voice calls, but before you can turn, Jungkook wraps you into a hug. Jungkook Jeon is both Jimin’s childhood friend and his NHL faux rival. Being from the same town, the media love to compare them at every turn – something that’s become a fun rivalry. The last time you hung out, his hair was much longer. Tonight though, he’s wearing all black with a sharp undercut.

“How have you been?” Jungkook grins, pulling back. He’s careful not to mess up your hair or dress, for which you’re grateful.

“Good,” you say with a laugh. “What about you? I hear the Kraken are leading the division – you must be happy.”

Jungkook’s smile disappears. “Not the conference, though.”

You can’t help but laugh, knowing his perfectionism rivals only Jimin. “You’re too hard on yourself.”

“Someone’s got to be. And besides,” he adds, glancing over your shoulder. “It’s not like we have the best offensive player in the league,” Jungkook calls in a sing-songy voice.

A familiar arm wraps around your waist. “Did you two watch the same special, or something?” Jimin gripes, brushing his lips to your cheek. “There are so many good players, calling anyone ‘the best’ is kind of pointless.”

“I believe they totaled your points,” you say, much to Jungkook’s amusement.

“I leave you alone for five minutes,” Jimin sighs with a shake of his head. “And of course, Jungkook swoops in to steal you.”

“Can you blame me?” Jungkook winks, drinking from his champagne. “Look at Y/N! If he ever messes up, Y/N, give me a call,” he jokes, and you feel Jimin stiffen.

“That won’t be necessary,” you say, leaning your head on Jimin’s shoulder.

He relaxes ever so slightly, squeezing your waist with one hand. Jungkook grimaces at this, trading his nearly empty champagne glass for a full one.

“You two are annoyingly cute,” he says, but he grins. “Seriously, though, you’ve been putting in work, Jimin. It’s impressive.”

“Thanks.” Jimin nods, toasting his glass.

“Have you seen Tae and Seokjin?” Jungkook asks, standing on tiptoe. “I keep getting cornered by moms wanting me to date their daughters, and I could use some high ground.”

You can’t help but laugh as Jimin jerks his thumb. “Alcove off the balcony. Everyone is gathered there – I was just coming to get Y/N.”

“Perfect,” Jungkook says as he leaves. “I’ll meet you there.”

Once he’s gone, Jimin shakes his head. Taehyung and Seokjin are two of their closest high school friends. Seokjin is currently single, but Taehyung got married early this year. Unfortunately, you couldn’t attend their wedding, but the ceremony looked beautiful, and you sent a gift.

Setting down his champagne, Jimin grabs your hand and tugs you into a corner. Turning to face you, his cheeks flush slightly pink.

“Hey,” he murmurs, looking you up and down. “Have I said how beautiful you look tonight?”

Heat stirs in your belly. “Not yet, no.”

“Well, you do,” Jimin says, his gaze dark.

Admittedly, you were a bit unfair in packing this dress. Your original intention in buying it was to wear New Year’s Eve and post jealousy-inducing photos on Instagram. Instead, you’re wearing it here with Jimin on your arm. Silky and emerald, the dress clings like a second skin, dropping in the back to a point just above your ass. Slightly impractical, but you borrowed a coat from Jisoo.

Jimin’s fingers ghost over the silk. “You deserve to hear it again,” he murmurs, his voice husky. “You’re being kind of unfair to everyone else at this party.”

“How so?”

“Poor Jungkook will have to find someone else.”

Your upper lip twitches, stepping closer. “Is that what you’re worried about?” you coo, sliding a hand up his chest. “That I’ll take Jungkook up on his offer? Not interested,” you say, allowing your gaze to linger. “You, on the other hand – that suit is designed to ruin hearts.”

“Only hearts?”

“Mm.” Softly, your voice drops. “Why? Were you planning on ruining something else?”

“Only if you asked nicely.”

Your eyes widen, stunned and Jimin smiles. His hands grip your body, cedar and black pepper scent wrapping around you and doing its best to make you come undone.

“Come on.” Taking your hand, Jimin turns away. “Let’s go and say hi to my friends. Everyone was asking earlier where you were.”

Slightly dazed by his former implication, you nod and follow. Jimin leads you through the crowd, bypassing everyone who attempts small talk. By the time you reach the alcove, Jungkook is already seated.

“What happened to you two?” he asks, smushed between Taehyung and Seokjin on the couch. “Making out in a corner? Couples are the worst,” he mutters to Taehyung before realizing who he’s talking to. “Oh. Right. Never mind.”

Taehyung’s wife, Alya, laughs from her armchair. “No comment. We may have been making out in a corner earlier.”

A lone strand of hair falls over Taehyung’s forehead. “Guilty,” he says, raising his glass.

Seokjin pokes Jungkook in the side. “If you hate couples so much, why are you sitting here,” he groans. “This is a two-person sofa.”

“Exactly!” Jungkook says. “It’s weird for you and Taehyung to sit together, since he’s married. I’m actually saving you.”

Settling onto an armchair, Jimin pulls you down with him to sit on his lap. His arm snakes around your front, pulling you backwards to rest.

“Anyways.” Jimin looks around. “How is everyone?”

Hoseok and Jisoo appear from the hall. “Oh, thank god,” Jisoo says, sitting between you and Alya. “This area was a complete sausage fest the last time we swung by.”

“Hey!” Seokjin cries. “I offered you a drink.”

“You offered her your drink,” Hoseok says drily, sitting next to his wife. “Doesn’t count.”

Jisoo leans over her armrest. “Y/N,” she hisses. “Do you have a tampon? They didn’t fit in my purse, and of course, my body waited until now to announce we’re not pregnant.”

You stifle a laugh. “Yes, of course,” you say, handing her your purse. “Left inner pocket – go wild.”

“Thanks.” Flashing a smile, Jisoo stands from the chair and disappears down the hall.

Jimin holds you against him, his thumb lightly stroking the ridge of your hip. Your entire body melts, perception heightened at each point he touches.

“So.” Jungkook turns towards Taehyung. “What did you get Alya for Christmas, Tae? Aside from the wedding, obviously.”

Alya laughs and sips her champagne. “Go on, tell them.”

Taehyung turns red. “It’s embarrassing!”

“What is?” Jungkook asks, glancing between them.

“It’s not.” Alya shakes her head. “Taehyung was so excited about the gift he gave it to me early. This morning, he surprised me by having our wedding bands engraved. I wanted to do it last year, but it didn’t fit in our budget. Anyways, he borrowed my band to clean it and got it done! I didn’t suspect a thing!”

“That’s amazing,” you say. “I love that idea.”

“Thanks, Y/N.” Taehyung smiles.

“What about you, Jimin?” Seokjin jostles Jungkook to face him. “What did you get Y/N this year? What is it – four years?”

Jimin tenses slightly, so you jump in. “Oh, we decided not to do gifts this year,” you hasten. “There’s been a lot going on, and we –”

“I got Y/N a gift,” Jimin interrupts. “But it’s a secret until tomorrow.”

Surprised, you crane your head sideways to see him. “You got me a gift?”

He nods. “Yeah. Is that alright?”

“Mhm.” You shift in his lap. “I, um… actually got you something, too.”

Tightening his grip on your waist, Jimin keeps you still. “Oh?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

You bought Jimin a gift months ago, and never returned it. When you were packing, you decided at the last minute to throw it inside – along with this dress and the skimpy night clothes.

“I want to know!” Seokjin blurts. “Just whisper it in my ear, Y/N. I won’t tell.”

You laugh, facing forward. “Sorry, Seokjin. That’s confidential. Mr. Kim” – you nod at Taehyung – “may not respect the sanctity of Santa Claus, but I’m not risking getting coal in my stocking.”

Softly, Jimin laughs, nuzzling your shoulder with his lips. It hasn’t escaped you that he stilled your hips to conceal his reaction to you on top. Something which distracts you more than it should.

“Get off,” Seokjin groans, pushing Jungkook upward. “I swear, you make this party worse every year.”

You grin, watching their antics as Jungkook walks off. Taller and heavier than Jimin, you know he only stood from the seat because he wanted to. Wandering to a free armchair, Jungkook flops down.

“Where’s your Christmas spirit?” he asks, waving his glass of champagne. “I was just about to tell you the holidays aren’t so bad with you around.”

Alya and Hoseok both laugh, and Taehyung shakes his head. Conversation then devolves to the Seattle Kraken, and Jimin’s fingers dig into the silk at your waist.

“Did you mean that?” he murmurs, lips at your ear. “Did you actually get me a present? Because it’s fine if you didn’t. I sprung this trip on you, and we’re not – well, you know…”

“I know,” you say back. “But yes, I got you a gift. Actually.” You pause. “I bought it for you a while ago and held onto it.”

“Ah.” Jimin pauses. Slipping his thumb beneath your chin, he turns you to face him. “Y/N. I just wanted to say –”

“Hey, Y/N, someone’s calling you,” announces Jisoo, walking into the room. Reaching into your purse, she pulls out your phone and frowns. “Who’s Mike?”

Your stomach drops through the floor.

Jimin’s body tenses beneath you, and you fight for a way out of the growing panic. Worse, everyone else seems to have heard, since all gazes lock on you. Struggling to breathe, you stand abruptly and snatch your phone.

“No one,” you blurt, grabbing your purse from a blinking Jisoo. “I mean, Mike’s a client. I should probably take this call outside.”

Before they can respond, you grab your phone and rush off. Brushing past Jisoo, you ignore her look of concern. Loudly, your heels click on the wooden floor. Whispers rise in your exit, but you ignore them, face burning as you turn your phone over in your hand.

Reaching the foyer, you stumble to a halt and glance overhead at the mistletoe. Purposefully side-stepping this, you see one missed call. In addition, there are several missed texts from Yoongi and Namjoon, but these you ignore.

Fingers trembling, you swipe open the text from Mike Davis.

Mike: hey, Y/N! I was doing laundry and found your Ventra card in my pocket. I think I grabbed yours by mistake. Want to meet up and exchange in the new year? [8:10 PM]

Mike: you know, I had a really great time meeting you the other night [8:13 PM]

You grip your phone tighter. He can’t be serious. The date ended so poorly, you were surprised the bartender didn’t film and put it on TikTok. Mike can’t actually want to hang out again. Orthink reaching out to you on Christmas Eve would be a good idea.

Brow lowered, your fingers punch the keyboard.

Y/N: Hey, Mike. You can keep the Ventra card, no worries [8:25 PM]

Deleting his number, you exhale in relief and turn around – only to run into Jimin, who stands right behind. Close enough to have seen every word on your phone.

Jimin’s fists clench, having read both the texts. There’s no reason to be jealous, he reminds himself with zero success. You aren’t dating, so it’s perfectly reasonable for you to text another guy. The fact that this Mike guy hasn’t come up is none of Jimin’s concern. And yet.

“So.” Voice cold, Jimin tilts his head. “Mike is…?”

He pauses for you to complete the blank, knowing you won’t say just a client.

“He’s…” Shifting, you avoid eye contact. “Someone I know.”

“Please.”

Your expression shifts, meeting his gaze. “Well, what do you want me to say?” you demand, stepping closer. “Tell your friends a client called me. They’ll buy it, it’ll be fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Jimin growls. “And I could care less what my friends think.”

Bewildered, you stare. “I don’t understand. That’s literally the entire reason you asked me to come here this weekend. So you wouldn’t have to admit we broke up.”

Jimin’s heart flatlines. “Is that really what you think?” he demands, reaching out. Catching your wrist, he pulls you even closer. “You thought I was so terrified of explaining my contract to my family, I couldn’t possibly tell them we broke up, as well?”

Your brows furrow deeper. “That’s what you told me, so, yes. That’s what I thought.”

“Right. And is it serious?”

“Is what serious?”

“This guy – Mike. Are you two serious?”

Your jaw hangs open a second before it snaps shut. “Are we – no, Jimin,” you say, the words dripping with derision. “We’re not serious. You and I broke up only three months ago! Do you really think I managed to move on so quickly?”

“I don’t know,” Jimin admits, even as his head spins. “I didn’t–”

“I mean, god,” you exhale, ripping your hand from his grasp. “I go on one date, and somehow, I’m the bad guy. Never mind that you’re the one who wanted to break up,” you add, whirling around to jab him in the chest. “You” – a second prod – “were the one who asked to break up!”

Closing his hand around your finger, Jimin tugs you forward. “I know,” he says hoarsely. “I know I messed up, Y/N. I know I have no right to be jealous, but I am. I’m jealous, and I’m wrong, and I don’t even fucking care because I miss you, Y/N. I know you’re right here, but I miss you.”

Something in your gaze breaks. “I miss you, too, Jimin.”

“I know I didn’t fight hard enough to keep you back then. I should have, and I can’t say how much I regret it.” Sliding his hands up your arms, Jimin grips your elbows. “I don’t care if you went out with one guy or a hundred. I asked you to come here this weekend because I wanted you. I was too afraid to ask you outright, so I used my career as an excuse.”

“An… excuse?”

Gripping you tighter, Jimin exhales. “I mean, everyone knows. My parents know I’m extending my contract, and they’re fine with it. I still don’t want to tell them we broke up.”

“Well, sure.” Your gaze darts across him. “Because you don’t want to spoil Christmas – right?”

“That’s not why.”

“Then, why?”

Before he can lose his nerve, Jimin slides his arm around your waist and pulls you flush against him. You inhale when your chests touch, the silk of your dress rucking beneath his palm.

“I think you know the reason,” he rasps, his gaze finding your lips.

“All the same” – somehow, your fingers curl into hair at the base of his neck – “I’d like to hear you say it.”

Bending, Jimin’s lips skim your throat. “I told you I don’t care what my family thinks. I just want you, Y/N.”

Inhaling sharply, you turn your head. Your lips briefly touch, then you still.

Jimin hesitates, his brain short-circuiting before he connects. Springing into motion, he slides both palms to either side of your face and kisses you deeply. Walking you backwards, he only stops when your spine hits the wall. Reaching lower, Jimin grabs your wrists with one hand to yank overhead.

You stare upward, eyes lidded, as your chest rises and falls. Jimin nearly groans, sliding his knee between your legs to widen your stance.

“God, you’re perfect,” he breathes, crushing your mouth with his.

All he knows is your scent, wrapped around him. The feel of your mouth, the curves of your body arching against him. Jimin loses himself in the moment – in you – to the point where nothing else seems to matter.

Releasing your wrists, Jimin grasps the hem of your dress with one hand to drag it upward. Inch by inch, your bare thigh is revealed to his touch.

“Oh,” you gasp, your head hitting the wall.

Taking advantage, Jimin kisses roughly down your exposed neckline. Each time you inhale, it reminds him of your chest against him. Withdrawing, Jimin glances down and nearly curses. Whatever bra you have on does little to conceal your hardened nipples, easily visible through the silk of your dress.

“Mm.” Jimin exhales, running a thumb over the tip. “Can’t have you returning to the party like this, can I?”

Your thighs clench. “People definitelywouldn’t suspect we broke up.”

Again, Jimin circles your nipple, making you moan. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “Like I said, though – this isn’t about the people out there. This is about you. What do you want, Y/N?”

Jimin holds his breath as he waits for an answer. Really, this is what it comes down to.

Your grip on him tightens. “I want you to take me home right now, Jimin.”

“Fuck, yes,” he breathes.

Grasping you by the hand, Jimin tugs you into the hall. You giggle, stumbling as you fix the strap of your dress, and he can’t keep a stupid grin from spreading over his face.

“We’re leaving now,” Jimin says, bringing you towards the exit. “Otherwise, I’m going to drag you into the bathroom and fuck you like that.”

Your heels dig into the floorboards, and he turns to look at you, concerned.

“Oh.” You blink innocently. “I’m sorry, was that supposed to be a threat?”

Jimin goes still, consumed by images he’d rather not face. Visions of your panties pulled down, bent over his knees while he fingers your dripping pussy. Or your hands, curled around a doorframe while he lowers himself to drag his tongue up your slit. Or pressed against a wall, your panties pushed aside for him to –

“Alright – enough,” Jimin growls, grabbing your hand.

You laugh when he pulls you onward, bringing you to the lodge doors. Reaching the front, Jimin pauses long enough to hand the valet his ticket. While you visit the coat closet, he pulls you close and runs his nose down your throat.

“Do you have any idea how crazy you make me?” he murmurs, low in your ear. “Any idea just how many times I’ve jerked off in the shower this trip?”

“How sad,” you say, turning to face him. “Pray tell, what did you think about?”

Sliding his hand over the curve of your ass, Jimin presses you closer. “Lots of things,” he exhales. “Your pretty lips around my cock. Finger-fucking you slowly, making you take it. How wet you were beneath those ridiculous excuses for nightgowns.”

Your laugh is throaty. “I brought those specifically for you, you know.”

“Mission accomplished,” Jimin growls. Outside, he sees the valet arrive and releases your waist. “Now, let’s go.”

Slipping both arms into your coat, you follow Jimin outside to the car. He helps you in, shutting the door and traveling to the passenger side. Shoving a hand through his hair, he attempts to regain his composure. The two of you need to get home safely – that’s top priority.

Of course, by the time he sits down and glances over, all thoughts of safety fly out the window. You’ve left your coat unbuttoned, enough that he sees each sinful line of your body. Suddenly, his top priority is to get you home – now.

Shutting the door, Jimin puts the car in drive and pulls from the lodge. You exhale, somewhat breathless as you shift to face him.

“This is going to be fast,” you admit, a bit breathy. Jimin’s hands on the wheel tighten. “You said you’ve been jerking off in the shower? Well, I haven’t had any alone time. You’ve just been edging me for three days.”

“Don’t say edging,” Jimin groans. “I’m trying to concentrate on getting you home.”

“Oh?” Tilting your head, you lean closer. “Do you find that topic distracting?”

“Yes,” Jimin huffs, and then pauses. “Actually… I think you could use a little more distraction. Don’t you?”

He doesn’t miss the way your fingers still, your breath hitching beside him.

“Maybe,” you say.

Jimin glances in your direction. “Spread your legs.”

Without breaking eye contact, you spread your legs until the silk is stretched tautly over your thighs.

“Pull up your dress.”

Casually, you grip the hem to tug upward. Jimin tries not to look, watching the road, but the position is torturous. As soon as you come to a stop light, he turns.

Your thighs press against the edge of the seat, silken dress hitched over the top of your thighs. Jimin exhales, unable to see what he wants, but the shadows and skin are more than enticing.

“Touch yourself,” he instructs, and desire flares in your gaze.

Arching slightly, your hand inches lower to dip beneath your dress. Jimin keeps his eyes on you, watching and waiting for your reaction. When he hears the slip of your finger, your lips slowly part as your eyes fill with lust.

“Oh,” you exhale, and Jimin’s body tightens.

“That’s it,” he breathes, listening to your finger drag upward. “How wet are you, baby?”

“So wet,” you groan, eyelashes fluttering as you spread your legs further.

“No.” Jimin’s gaze drops to your hand. “Press your thighs together. Keep touching yourself.”

The light turns green, spurring him onward as the night changes. He watches you obey in the corner of one eye, legs pressed together with your hand trapped between them. Head hitting the headrest, your chest rises and falls with the motion of your fingers.

 “That’s it, baby,” Jimin murmurs, switching lanes to go faster. “You’re doing so well. I want you to come once for me before we get home. Okay?”

Your eyes open. “You want me to come?”

“Just once.” Jimin lowly chuckles. “I know you, baby. I know you can come at least twice more tonight.”

“Fuck,” you groan, your need evident.

The record number of orgasms Jimin has given you in one night is five, but that was only one time. Jimin thought it’d be fun to see how many times he could make you come with only his tongue. Five, it turned out – or rather, that was the point you frankly begged for his cock.

A few minutes away from home, Jimin relents. “Alright,” he exhales. “Spread your legs again.”

You instantly obey, thighs spread as you groan, your fingers slipping lower.

“Can you stretch yourself for me, baby?” Jimin murmurs, the words low and thick. “Keep that other hand on your clit, now.”

Adding another hand, you arch on the seat. Every ounce of blood in Jimin’s body rushes towards his cock, enough to make things painful as you near the house. You push a finger inside, releasing a moan that makes his grip tighten.

“That’s it,” Jimin exhales, driving as carefully as possible over the dirt road.

“Ah,” you gasp when he hits a bump, jolting your fingers deeper.

Jimin clenches the wheel. “You liked that?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, glancing at him, your expression almost shy.

Fuck. Jimin does his best to angle the car, creating more friction as you rub your clit. He does his best to remain facing forward but is distracted every so often by the sight of your hips moving against the seat.

Throwing out a hand, you grasp his lower arm. “Jimin,” you groan, your head hitting the headrest. “I’m so, so close.”

Pulling to a stop in the driveway, Jimin puts the car in park and throws off his seatbelt. Shoving open the door, he goes to the passenger side. Your eyes widen when he yanks open your door, unbuckling you and dragging your hips to the edge of your seat.

“Eyes on me,” Jimin directs, gripping the seat on either side. “Just keep touching yourself like a good girl, Y/N. I know that pussy is so pretty and wet. Can’t wait to lick it clean later. Can you spread yourself wider? Add another finger?”

Your thighs fall on either side of his waist, enough for Jimin to know you can feel how hard he is. The dress continues to cover your waist, and he doesn’t lift it higher. Doesn’t so much as touch you, just keeps his gaze trained on yours.

“I need your fingers,” you whimper, and Jimin feels you grip his wrist, guiding his hand in between your slick legs.

“Shit,” he exhales, feeling how wet you are.

The slick core of heat, your hips arching against him, breaks his last scruple. Keeping his gaze steady, Jimin slowly slides two fingers into your perfect cunt. Relief washes over your face, your lips parting as fresh arousal coats Jimin’s hand.

“God,” he murmurs, twisting his fingers to pull out. Slowly, he pushes back in and watches you hiccup. “You really did need my fingers, didn’t you, baby?”

“Yes,” you whimper, scrambling to sit straighter. Pulling him closer, your thighs widen. “I need you inside me.”

“In what way?” Jimin muses, stretching you as he pulls out.

“Want your cock, Jimin,” you groan, your chest heaving.

Pushing aside your coat, his free hand yanks down the strap of your dress, revealing what can barely be construed as a bra. The tiniest silk triangle barely covers your nipple in a flimsy excuse for support.

“You’ll get my cock,” Jimin promises. Lowering his head, he sucks your nipple – silk and all – between his lips. “Want to taste you first.”

“Jimin,” you moan.

“Patience.” Yanking your hips closer, he leans over you on the seat. Using this angle, he works his fingers deeper as your body tightens. “Like that, yeah?” Jimin murmurs, brushing your g-spot. “Want to come like this?”

“Please,” you whimper, spreading your thighs.

Jimin loses himself in the haze of your body, the tight slick of your heat while he finger-fucks you. Each thrust of his forearm has your breasts bouncing, your tiny scrap of a bra doing nothing to hide the movement.

“Once we get upstairs” – Jimin thrusts harder – “I want this dress on the floor. I want you dripping wet and naked, ass in the air so I can push my cock inside you.”

“Jimin!” you gasp, your entire body shuddering.

“And then,” he adds, low in your ear, “I want you to ride me. Need these tits in my mouth, your ass bouncing on my dick as you come again.”

You cry out, head thrown back as you come apart. Continuing to thrust his fingers, Jimin slows his movement as your breathing lengthens. Slumping against him, you hold tight with both arms.

As gentle as possible, Jimin slips his fingers from your body to fix your dress and coat. Shifting your weight from the seat to his arms, he shuts the door with his heel and starts to walk up the drive.

Stirring, you look around. “Oh,” you exhale, seeing the front porch. “Are we home already?”

Jimin stops to stare at you in his arms. “Did you… think I just pulled aside on a random highway?” he asks, equal parts puzzled and amused.

Sheepish, you feel your face heat. “Maybe?”

“Fair enough.” Jimin chuckles and keeps moving. “You should know, though – I wouldn’t risk anyone else seeing you like that.” He pauses. “Unless you wanted them to.”

You squirm in his arms, somewhat embarrassed by how much you like the prospect. Seeing this, Jimin’s eyes gleam and he leans closer.

“Seems like you might want that,” he murmurs.

Unable to articulate, you nod and watch his lips curve.

“Noted.”

Reaching the front door, Jimin bends to set you down. Once inside, he strips from his coat and boots, turning around to face you.

God, just looking at him is enough to make you weak. He just gave one ridiculously satisfying orgasm – it should be too soon for another and yet, your traitorous body feels barely sated.

“Was I not clear?” Lifting a brow, Jimin walks closer. “I thought I said I wanted you naked.”

You lift your chin. “Wanting is different than getting.”

“Oh, I think you want that, too.”

Fuck. You absolutely do, but you know Jimin enjoys being teased, so you lift your chin in the air to walk past him. “Well?” you demand, placing one hand on the railing. “Are you coming?”

You let your coat drop to your elbows, stepping out of your heels to head upstairs. Jimin groans from behind, and you hear his footsteps follow.

Entering the bedroom, you drop your coat on the couch and turn. Jimin stands framed in the door, several buttons on his jacket already undone. He doesn’t come any closer, and you lift your thumbs to slip under the straps.

“Was this what you wanted?” you ask, innocently slipping them down your shoulders.

Jimin moves forward. Coming to a stop, he replaces your thumbs and casually tugs. The dress slips from your shoulders, catching on your chest, and he motions you to turn.

Obeying, you watch in the mirror as Jimin steps closer. He meets your gaze head-on, slipping a hand around your stomach to mold himself to you from behind. Finding your zipper with his other hand, he tugs down.

Both of you watch the dress fall, silk pooling at your feet to leave you naked. Well, mostly naked. A red, silk thong remains, along with your bra. Really, just two triangles of silk held up by thin straps. Your breasts spill around the materials, creating a tantalizing visual his gaze is locked on. Jimin fingers the clasp of your bra, then releases.

“Actually,” he says, his voice husky. “I want to play like this.”

Before you can fully digest his words, Jimin walks around and grasps your hand. Leading you to bed, he sets you down and urges you backwards.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, nudging your ankles apart. “Just like that.”

Releasing you, he takes a step back to run a hand through his hair. You stare upward, propped on your elbows, your chest rising and falling. Jimin stares like you’re something to be savored, then devoured. His gaze traces your body, starting at your ankles to work his way upward.

He takes in your spread legs, dripping pussy visible beneath the scrap of silk. By the time Jimin finds your breasts, your nipples are painfully hard, and he groans, reaching down to palm his cock. Your breath catches, seeing how hard he is in his pants.

“Jimin,” you moan, sliding one foot lower. “I want you.”

Lowering his knee to the bed, Jimin plants a hand on either side of your head. “Patience,” he murmurs, brushing his lips to yours.

You curl around him, fingers tangling in soft stands of his hair. His fully clothed body presses against you, nearly nude, and you shiver. The feel of his suit against skin is intoxicating. Jimin pulls back to nip your lower lip, grasping you by the waist to pin you fully.

Thrusting forward, he allows you to feel how badly he wants you. His achingly hard cock grinds against your center, and you arch beneath him.

“Jimin,” you pant, tightening your grip in his hair.

“Ah – fuck,” he groans, helplessly rutting between your spread thighs.

Your hands fumble, slipping beneath his suit jacket to cast this aside. Jimin sits up, helping you shed his dark turtleneck. Thrown to the ground, he lowers his mouth, eagerly flicking your chest with his tongue. You moan, hands fisting his hair to anchor him. Tugging the other silk cup down, Jimin switches to suck a hardened nipple.

“Get rid of it,” you pant, reaching underneath to unsnap your bra. Jimin grins, tossing your bra on top of his pile of clothes. Swiftly returning, he bends to lick and suck at your breasts.

Your hips roll beneath him, desperately searching for your release. Jimin knows how sensitive you are, knows you can come like this, but doesn’t seem inclined. Instead, he sits back and runs a hand through his hair.

You nearly come at the sight – Jimin, shirtless with mussed hair and reddened lips. Pushing yourself upward, you struggle to undo the first button of his pants.

Chuckling, Jimin replaces your hands with his. “I need these on,” he says, scooting backwards. “I need something to keep myself from coming.”

“But I want you to come,” you protest as Jimin lowers himself to his stomach.

“And I appreciate that.” Turning his head, his breath touches your knee. “But I’ve spent three months fantasizing about what to do if I ever got to touch you again. First things first.”

Lowering yourself to your elbows, your entire body throbs at the sight of Jimin between your thighs. He looks at you, reverent, before slowly dragging his thumb down your aching center.

“Oh,” you inhale, opening further.

Gaze dark, Jimin pulls the fabric of your panties aside. Your face burns, hearing your wetness, but all that dissolves at the first sweep of his tongue.

“Fu-ck, Jimin,” you groan, head tipping back.

He takes his time, working you open with long, tender strokes. No man has ever eaten you out so well, and you doubt anyone ever will again. As though driving this point home, Jimin switches from tender licks to sucking hard on your clit. You moan, helplessly splayed beneath his torture.

“Jimin,” you gasp, hands fisting in sheets.

Shifting closer, Jimin nudges one leg over his shoulders and grips your ass with both hands. Pulling you into his mouth, he devours, licking up and down in a way that’s obscene. A half-sob climbs in your throat, your back arching when he adds a finger.

“That’s it, Y/N,” Jimin pants, lifting his head. “Such a pretty pussy. Can you come for me, baby?”

“Y-yes,” you gasp.

Jimin lowers his mouth, adding a finger while slowly sucking your clit. Staring down your body at him, you feel your thighs tremble. Jimin’s shoulders flex while eating you out, his hips grinding into the sheets to get himself off. Imagining his cock pushing inside tips you over the edge, and you break apart. A wave of pleasure sweeps through you, seeing stars as Jimin curls his fingers.

Muscles limp, you collapse on the mattress. When your eyes open, your thigh is still flung over Jimin’s shoulder. Grinning, he pushes himself upward, taking your leg with him. Turning, Jimin presses a soft kiss to your calf.

“Fuck,” you groan, one arm flung over your face. “That was even better than I remember. And trust me, I’ve thought about that a lot.”

“Oh?” Jimin gently sets your leg down. “Do tell.”

You peek at him through your fingers. “Take off your pants.”

Jimin drops his hands to his belt. “Tell me” – he undoes the buckle – “in explicit detail” – he pulls the length through the straps – “what you thought about.” The belt is dropped on the floor.

Your tongue swipes your lower lip. “I thought about a lot of things.”

“Be specific.” Shoving his pants and briefs down, Jimin lingers at the point where his hips are exposed. “When you touched yourself, did you think of me?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Mm.” Jimin tilts his head. “What about when you used your toys?”

You whimper, spreading your thighs on his bed. “Yes.”

“And were they good enough? Did your pretty pink dildo stretch you as nicely?”

“No,” you whimper, watching him stand.

Still looking at you, Jimin pushes his slacks to the floor. Your heart pounds when his length is released, so hard it seems painful. The head of his cock glistens with pre-cum, the thick veins prominent. Wrapping a fist around himself, Jimin places one knee on the mattress.

“Take your panties off,” he rasps, and you hasten to obey.

Once they’re removed, you’re left naked before him. Gaze glinting, Jimin inclines his head. “Turn around. Lay on your stomach.”

Heat throbs between your legs as you do so, glancing over your shoulder. Jimin positions himself behind you, kneeling over your thighs with his cock in his fist.

“I’ve thought about this for so long,” he exhales, slipping two fingers into your pussy. Arching your back, you squirm to get closer. “When you come, I want to see you, but right now…”

You feel the head of cock nudging your thighs apart, getting wet with your slick. Leaning over, Jimin pulls open a drawer on his nightstand to retrieve a condom. Pulling this open, he rolls this onto himself and pushes between your thighs.

Each messy thrust rubs his cock against your clit, making you push your ass backwards. Jimin smacks your ass swiftly, then makes a low noise and rubs it.

“God, I missed you,” he exhales, pushing himself into your cunt.

You moan, burying your face in your arms to lift your ass higher. Jimin is thick, even more than you remember, and you feel your walls stretch with a pleasant burn. He pauses a few inches in to gently tug your hips upward.

Keeping your chest to the bed, he lifts you almost to your knees. Leaning forward, Jimin slips an arm underneath you to play with your clit. From behind, his hips slowly thrust in and out a few inches. Stretching you, yet barely sating the edge of your desire.

“Jimin,” you groan, turning your head to capture his mouth.

His fingers nudge your clit, tongue slipping past your lips as his cock gets even deeper. Each time he slowly thrusts and withdraws, you accept him a little more. Buried halfway, Jimin draws leisurely circles around your throbbing clit.

“More,” you moan, pushing back.

Jimin chuckles, retreating to grip your hips with both hands. He thrusts in slow, easy motions to work himself deeper. By the time he bottoms out, your hands are fisted in sheets.

“Fuck,” you exhale, thighs spread to accommodate him inside you.

Jimin stays there a moment, thumbs drifting over the shape of your ass. “Y/N,” he mutters. “You’re so goddamn perfect.”

Leisurely, he withdraws until only the head of his cock remains. Jimin thrusts forward slowly, making you feel every inch of him. Moaning, you bury your face in the sheets, and his hand comes down again.

“Louder,” Jimin demands, gripping your waist. “Don’t hide from me, baby. Want to hear you.”

Head thrown back, you pant as he sinks into you fully. All you do is take it, breathless and eager while he slowly fucks you. Casually, Jimin pushes your hips down so you lie flat on the bed. One foot on the mattress, he adjusts himself to push inside you like that.

“Oh,” you moan, toes curling.

Thighs pressed together, your clit rubs the sheets, making it messy and tight as he moves inside you. Gripping your ass with one hand, Jimin anchors himself to fuck you in slow, rolling movements. You arch underneath him, gaining friction but when you clench tighter, Jimin pulls out.

A strangled sound leaves your throat. “Excuse me,” you blurt, rolling sideways to face him. “I was enjoying that.”

“Oh, I know.” Jimin grins from the spot where he kneels. His cock is hard, glistening with evidence of your arousal. “But what I really want is to have you on my lap.”

A shiver runs down your spine. Turning over, you arch your back and watch Jimin’s eyes glaze. He reaches for you swiftly, helping you onto your knees. Seating himself against the headboard, Jimin arranges your body over his thighs.

Hovering above him, you grasp his shoulders. “Is this what you wanted?’

“Fuck, yes.” Jimin drinks in your body. His fingers swipe through your cunt, teasing as he bends to suck a hard nipple between his lips.

Spreading your ass with one hand, his fingers stroke up and down your aching pussy. Arching against him, you present your chest further as your grip on him tightens. Jimin slips a finger inside you, casually fucking like that until you moan.

“Jimin,” you whimper. “Please.”

Moving to grip his cock, Jimin positions himself at your entrance. “All you had to do was ask,” he says, guiding your hips.

The head of his cock pushes inside, then stops, waiting for you to take over. Greedy, you seat yourself in a single motion. One second, you’re empty and the next, you’re full of his cock. Jimin swears, gripping you tightly as you inhale. Chest pressed to his, you stay there, pussy throbbing as you grow accustomed to his girth.

“Fuck – Y/N,” Jimin chokes out.

“I thought you wanted this?” you tease, lifting your hips to swivel. Jimin’s eyelashes flutter when you start riding him, rising and falling on the length of his cock.

Thighs spread, you grip his shoulders to move up and down. Jimin groans, lowering his head to tease one of your nipples. He continues this while you fuck him, sucking and releasing with a lewd pop. Needing him deeper, you start to bounce up and down. His cock soothes a tight ache inside you, stretching your body like he was made for it.

Breathless, you press closer, curling your fingers into his hair. Jimin responds eagerly, widening your thighs to grip your ass with one hand. Tightly entwined, you move against him until he takes over, slamming your hips down again and again.

“Jimin,” you pant, your legs trembling. “I need more.”

“More?” Jimin pants, his expression truly fucked out. “Alright, baby.”

Lifting you off his cock, he ensures the condom is snug and positions himself on his knees. “Lie down,” Jimin demands, and you hasten to obey.

Settling on your back, you spread your thighs for Jimin to move between. Gripping your ankles, he lifts your legs upward. Pushing them towards your chest, he exposes you fully.

“So pretty,” Jimin murmurs, dragging his fingers through the slick of your folds. Switching your ankles to one hand, he lowers them to his shoulder and positions his cock at your entrance. When he pushes inside, you moan at the tightness. “Yeah, that’s it,” he coaxes, getting deeper. “You take me so well, baby.”

“Better than other girls?” you pant, the words out of your mouth before you can stop them.

Jimin goes still, then gently parts your thighs. Wrapping your legs around his waist, Jimin leans forward until your lips brush.

“What other girls?” he murmurs, thrusting into you slowly. “Y/N. You don’t seriously think I had any interest in fucking other girls while we were apart?”

Your heart hammers as you try – and fail – to squash your insecurities. With everyone else, you have no trouble saying what you want. With Jimin though, you’re aware he could crush you with a single word. It’s harder when the stakes are as high as they are.

“I wouldn’t be mad if you did,” you whisper. “We were… broken up, and –”

Jimin bends, rolling his hips to shove his cock deeper. Your words break on a moan, legs encircling him tighter.

“I don’t want to hear that again,” Jimin says, low in your ear. “You are the only person I want, Y/N. The only one in my bed. The only pussy wrapped around this cock. The only one coming beneath me,” he murmurs with another hard thrust.

Your thighs start to shake, but you fight to keep present. Hips lifting, you match him thrust for thrust as your fingers curl in his hair. Jimin moves faster, pounding you into the bed hard enough to see stars.

“I don’t care if you slept with someone else,” he says hoarsely, reaching between you. You tremble when he circles your swollen clit. “I just want you thinking of me from now on.”

“Y-yes, Jimin!” you cry out, not sure what you’re agreeing to, but knowing you don’t want this moment to end. You don’t want this to end when the weekend is over.

His mouth crushes yours, tongue sweeping forward to match every thrust. Jimin’s scent is all around you, within you as you begin to lose track of where you end, and he begins. Your focus narrows, becoming nothing but pinpricks of building pleasure. Jimin’s cock pounds into you harder, hands grasping, breath mingling as you come undone.

Gasping his name, you clutch him tight as your pleasure explodes. Jimin coaxes you through it, keeping his fingers on your clit to ride out the tremors. Once you’re slumped, fully sated, Jimin releases the hold he had on himself. Nearly withdrawing, Jimin slams his cock forward to fill your still-spasming cunt.

You cry out, thighs widening as he lets you have it. Fucking you with full abandon, Jimin hammers your g-spot in a punishing manner. Nearly as swift as the fall, you feel your climax building. This time, your body feels beyond your control, practically weightless beneath the force of his cock in your pussy. It’s all you can do to stay conscious when another orgasm rolls through you.

Jimin groans when you come, feeling your walls flutter around his thick cock. Burying his face in your neck, Jimin thrusts deeper to release. Clasped tightly around him, you feel the warm pulse as he fills the condom. Bittersweet, you wish this wasn’t there, so he could play with his slick. Breathless and panting, the two of you lie there until Jimin withdraws.

Gathering his strength, he sits back on his heels. Removing the condom, Jimin ties this in a knot and tosses it in the trash. When he heads for the bathroom, you stretch out both arms, feeling limp.

And happy.

By the time you and Jimin trade places, your eyelids are drooping. Exiting the bathroom, you find the lights off and Jimin already in bed. You attempt to grab his t-shirt from the floor and are met with a loud throat clear.

“What are you doing?” Jimin huffs.

Straightening, you find him already in bed, the sheets pulled down beside him. Jimin looks pointedly at that side, then at you.

“I was trying to wear your t-shirt to bed,” you say, slipping between the sheets to face him. “It’s Christmas Eve, I’ll have you know. December in Washington. Brr.”

Moving closer, Jimin slips an arm over your waist. “There,” he murmurs, pulling you towards him. “Use me to warm up.”

For this, you have no retort. In the back of your mind, a voice whispers you should talk to him, that there are important things to discuss, but everything fades in the warmth of his arms. Eyelids so heavy, you can barely keep them open, you fall asleep.

For the first time in months, you sleep through the night.

You wake the next morning with a start.

Eyes wide, you stare at the wall and feel Jimin’s arm on your waist. Rather than joy though, panic claws at your throat. There were so many things you should have asked him last night. So many things you should have said instead of immediately falling into bed with your ex.

As quietly as possible, you slip free of his arm and stand from the bed. Grasping a sweatshirt and jeans, you tiptoe down the hall to swiftly get dressed. Gripping the bathroom counter, you stare at yourself in the mirror and try to sort through your feelings. Twice, you pull out your phone only to hesitate, setting it down.

Today is Christmas, meaning Namjoon and Yoongi will be with their families. Dr. Germain, your therapist, is on vacation, although you know she would respond to an emergency. This could hardly be considered an emergency, though. This is just you, acting rashly and – your heart sinks, knowing this was exactly the opposite.

You want Jimin. You’ve wanted Jimin since the night you broke up, but were so near-sighted last night, you didn’t stop to ask if he wants the same. Abruptly, you turn and open the door to the hall. Heading downstairs, you sort through the facts.

Jimin apologized for this fall. He said he regretted not staying. He said he thinks of you often, and that he hadn’t been with anyone else. If this were last year, you might read between the lines and assume he still wanted you. This isn’t last year, though. Current you has experience with expecting Jimin to do one thing, and he does another.

Dragging a hand down your face, you stop by the kitchen for coffee. The only way you’ll be able to sort through this before opening presents is with massive amounts of caffeine.

Gazing outside, you see freshly fallen snow and wonder if it’d be crazy to go for a walk. Once your coffee is full, you pad down the hallway and slip on your boots. Your coat is halfway zipped when a throat clears behind you.

Whirling around, you nearly drop the mug as Jisoo appears.

“Oh my god,” you blurt, one hand on your chest. “You scared me. I didn’t realize anyone else was awake yet.”

“Are you kidding me?” she laughs, walking closer with her own mug. “Two three-year-old daughters on Christmas? They’ve been up since the crack of dawn.”

Nervous, you laugh as your hand falls. “Ah, right. Is Hoseok keeping them in their rooms?”

Jisoo shakes her head, coming to a stop. “They fell back asleep – Hoseok, too.” Curious, she glances past you at the door. “Going for a… walk?”

“Thinking about it.”

“It’s below freezing.”

“Yeah. I thought it might help… clear my mind.”

Her brows furrow, pensive enough that you nearly curse. You couldn’t be more obvious that you and Jimin are having trouble. There’s no other reason to be up this early, trying to escape into the wilderness rather than face your ex.

Plaintive, she takes a sip of her coffee. “You know, I know you two are broken up.”

Well, fuck. Someone will have to scrape your jaw from the floor. Stunned, you stare as Jimin’s sister takes another long sip of coffee.

Seeing your face, Jisoo steps closer. “You stopped talking in the group chat,” she explains softly, patting your arm. “And Jimin… well, he seems slightly better now, but we all saw how he was after the injury.”

“I don’t… we, we’re not,” you fumble, the words dying.

“It’s okay. I get why you didn’t want to tell us. Why he didn’t want to tell us.”

At this point, it’s too late to make any denial. Jisoo has already seen the truth in your face. You suppose the important part is she hasn’t told their parents – although part of you wonders if his mom knows, as well.

“It’s been a long year,” you admit finally, your voice cracking.

“Oh, Y/N.” Setting down her mug, Jisoo pulls you into her arms. “There, there,” she exhales, rubbing your back. “I’m sorry I brought that up. I just thought… well, I thought you might want to talk to someone not my brother.”

“Thanks,” you whisper.

Patting your arm, she pulls back. “So, do you? Want to talk?”

“I…” You trail off. “It’s complicated. We broke up last September, but Jimin asked if I’d help him break the news of his contract to your parents. Things have been different this weekend, but I don’t know if Jimin is on the same page as I am. I want to get back together, but… he’s the one who asked to break up.”

Jisoo’s eyes fill with sympathy. “You should talk to him.”

“I know,” you exhale. “I know, and I will. I just… I can’t stop thinking about the last time we had a serious conversation. How badly that went.”

Understanding crosses her face. “I get that, I do.”

“He seems different. But it’s only been three months. Jimin is playing hockey so well – he seems to have his shit together, and I’m just a mess. What if I want to get back together, and he says no? Maybe this whole thing – the holidays, the hot chocolate – was just a way to say goodbye.”

Jisoo’s gives you a look. “Y/N. Listen to me – I know my brother. I knew within two seconds that you’d broken up. And I’m equally certain he still loves you – partly because my husband is a terrible secret keeper.” She shakes her head. “Apparently, Jimin asked for Hoseok’s help to win you back.”

You blink. “That… that can’t possibly be –”

Footsteps clatter downstairs, and you both turn your heads.

“Y/N,” Jimin blurts, slipping a little. His sweatpants are only half on, hopping wildly to avoid Hana’s toy on the landing. “Thank god. I thought you left,” he admits, rushing forward to grab both your arms.

Jisoo pointedly clears her throat.

Jimin glances sideways, then does a double take. “Have you been there the whole time?”

Rolling her eyes, Jisoo grabs her coffee and turns. “Merry Christmas, Jimin. Go and make up with your girlfriend.”

He watches her leave, then shakes his head, and looks back. “Are you okay?” he breathes, scanning your frame. “I woke up and you were gone. I thought…”

Putting two and two together, your eyes widen. “You thought I left.”

Jimin seems a bit queasy, but he manages to nod.

Taking another step closer, you grip his elbows. “Jimin, no,” you say. “My suitcase was still there. Didn’t you see?”

“Oh.” He blinks. “I didn’t notice.”

Oddly enough, his panic gives you the courage to speak. “I wasn’t leaving. I just wanted a walk. You know… clear my head. Think about what happened last night.”

“Are you… having second thoughts?”

“Second thoughts?” you say in disbelief. “Jimin, we never discussed a first thought. You weren’t clear about what you wanted.”

“I wasn’t clear?” His brow furrows. “Y/N, I said I didn’t want anyone but you. That you were the only person for me. I apologized for September and said that I’m trying to change. What else could I have meant?”

Your heart hammers against your ribcage, but you push on. “I know,” you admit, voice catching. “It’s just… well, I thought I knew what you’d say in September, and I turned out to be wrong. I was scared, and I asked for a break, but you agreed.”

Sudden understanding dawns on his features. Jimin’s hands slide up your arms to cup your face, his gaze gentle.

“Y/N, no,” he murmurs. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have left. I just… didn’t want to hear what you were saying, which was that our relationship had problems. You wanted to fix those problems, and I ran away. I’m not running now, though.” Determination flickers in his gaze. “Y/N, I want to stay. Whether that’s as your boyfriend, fiancée, husband, or something else entirely – I don’t care. I just want you.”

Hearing him say this, your heart swells. Unbearable lightness spreads through you, and you take a step closer. Jimin pulls you against him, hands finding your back as he lowers his head.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he murmurs. “I should have been clearer last night. I was, uh, a little distracted.” Jimin huffs out a laugh.

“I’m sorry you woke up and found me gone,” you whisper, tightening your grip. “I just… didn’t want to assume, and I was scared.”

Jimin shakes his head. “It’s not assuming, Y/N. I love you. I never stopped loving you. And I will never stop,” he adds. “So, you might as well get used to this.”

“I never stopped loving you, either. I –”

Jimin cuts you off, crushing your mouth to his. Bending at the knees, he lifts you over one shoulder and heads for the stairs. You yelp, smacking his shoulder but Jimin doesn’t stop.

“Jimin,” you laugh. “It’s Christmas! We should –”

“Celebrate our relationship at least once before everyone else gets up? Yes, agreed.”

Breath catching, you briskly nod. “Yes, yes. Good point. That.”

Laughter rumbles in his chest, carrying you down the hall and for the rest of the morning – until the twins bang on your door – you lose yourself in blissful certainty. Jimin is yours, and you’re his.

With no end in sight.

Seated beside you on the loveseat, Jimin plays with your fingers, entwined in his lap. With his other arm, Jimin brings you closer to brush a kiss to your temple.

Smiling, you face him. “What’re you doing, Mr. Park?” you lowly scold. “You do know we’re not alone, right?”

Jimin lowers his nose to your hair. “More’s the pity,” he murmurs.

Heat flushes through you, but he sits back in his seat. The Christmas Eve party this year is at the ski lodge again, and all of his friends have gathered in the same spot. Tonight though, you sit beside him with a ring on your finger. Jimin barely made it to the playoffs before he proposed.

Thumb brushing over the stone in the center, Jimin can’t help but smile. From far across the room comes the sound of Jungkook booing.

“We get it,” he calls, hands cupped over his mouth. “You two are disgustingly happy. Get a room, why don’t you?”

“We will,” you call back, snuggling into Jimin’s side. “Later.”

Seokjin laughs and elbows Jungkook’s ribs. “You’re only annoyed because you’re the only single guy left.”

Jungkook pouts and sits back. “True. What’s that all about? Why’d you have to bring a super cool, amazing date to the party this year?”

Seokjin’s date, Nova, laughs. “Thanks? I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“You should.” Jungkook nods, then faces you and Jimin. “But seriously, you two seem very happy and I’m glad for you both.”

Jimin blinks. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch.” Jungkook casually crosses his arms. “Your current level of happiness will make it all the sweeter when I kick your ass in the playoffs this year, Park.”

When you snort-laugh, Jimin gives you a look. Said look makes you squirm against him on the sofa, though no one else seems to notice.

“Yeah.” Drily, Jimin looks at Jungkook. “Because that worked out so well for you last year.”

“Ohhh,” Hoseok calls, entering the room with Jisoo on his arm. She’s noticeably pregnant, with a due date next month. “He got you there, Kook. Remember when you lost and now, you and Jimin are tied for Stanley Cup wins?”

Jungkook stares at him blankly. “Hm, no. Don’t recall.”

The entire room laughs, conversation shifting to topics other than the NHL. Squeezing Jimin’s thigh, you snuggle closer and rest your head on his shoulder.

“I am, though,” he murmurs.

You glance upward. “You are what?”

“Happy.” Jimin meets your gaze. “Happy you gave me a second chance. Happy to choose you, again and again.”

Breath hitching, your fingers tighten in his. “Easiest choice I’ve ever made.”

© kpopfanfictrash, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission. Author’s Note: thank you so, so much for reading! HAPPY HOLIDAYS to anyone who celebrates!

[simelune]

the joy of life legacy challenge by @simelune 37 generations to keep you playing.

as i was looking for legacy challenges that were being updated as new packs came out, i had the thought "hey, why not just write one myself?" so here we are! i'll do by best to add new generations as time goes on, but seeing as this already has 37 (!!) generations, i think we'll be okay for a bit.

a few notes:

this challenge incorporates mods. i tried to include options for players who do not use gameplay mods, but some generations are built around them.

this challenge uses (almost) all packs. some generations are based off specific packs though, so you could pick and choose which gens you want to do.

this challenge has story aspects. there's a lot of room for you to come up with a story yourself each generation, so have fun with it!

some generations are longer and more involved than others! this is meant to give you a bit of a break and provide variety between generations.

GOOGLE DOC

please feel free to tag me if you try this challenge! i would love to see how you interpret some of the story aspects and seeing your simmies makes my day <3 you could also tag it with "#tjol challenge" / "#tjolc" if you prefer!

if you have any questions or feedback, my inbox is always open.

UPDATED 12.19.23

now includes generations for 'growing together' and 'horse ranch'.

[won4kiss]

⋆ ｡⋆୨୧˚— ANGRY !

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 boxer bf! ʝake sim x 𝑓! reader 𝒢enre. angst & fluff. 𝓢ynopsis. in which your boyfriend comes home injured after a brawl & lashes out at you. 𝑤ord count 𐙚ㅤㅤ1175. 𝑤arnings ‎⸝⸝ not edited, anger issues, cursing, injuries, kissing. ୭ৎ — 𝓵𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗋𝔂 ᥫ᭡

୭ৎ 𝑙una note⋆.˚ all credits to @taeghi for boxer! jake idea ! <3 also i’d like to note that i’m not romanticizing anger issues in any way, this is something i’ve struggled with for a while and i wanted to incorporate my own struggles in my writing !

THE APARTMENT WAS EERILY SILENT AND FILLED WITH ANTICIPATION AS YOU WAITED FOR YOUR BOYFRIEND JAKE TO RETURN.

it wasn’t unusual for him to come home late, especially after a long night of training at the underground boxing gym.

you had always admired his dedication, the way he poured his heart into his passion, but lately, his anger issues had been getting worse. — more under cut !

you knew he had struggled with this issue his whole life, but you hadn’t ever seen it this bad.

you see the rage in his eyes, the way his fists would clench and unclench as he tried to keep himself in check. it broke your heart to see him struggle like this.

a normal person would be petrified, but you didn’t care because at the end of the day, it’s your jake. you weren’t going to abandon him.

you glanced at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time that night, biting your lip anxiously.

it was well past midnight, and jake still hadn’t returned. you tried to keep yourself busy with chores around the house, but your mind couldn’t help but drift back to him.

what if something had happened? what if he had gotten into a fight and was lying injured somewhere alone?

just as you were about to call his phone for the fifth time, you heard the familiar sound of the front door creaking open.

you rushed to the hallway, your heart pounding in your chest. there he was, standing in the doorway, looking like he had been through hell and back.

jake was covered in bruises, his lip split open and bloodied, one eye swollen shut.

his clothes were torn, and his knuckles were raw and bloody.

you felt a lump form in your throat at the sight of him.

he looked so different from the strong, confident boyfriend you knew.

“jake!” you gasped, rushing to his side.

“oh my god, what happened to you?”

he didn’t say a word, he simply pushed past you in silence and headed straight for the bathroom.

you followed him, your heart aching at the sight of his battered and bruised body.

he turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face, wincing as the water stung his wounds.

“jakey, please let me help you,” you pleaded, reaching out to touch his arm.

he flinched away from your touch, his eyes dark with anger.

“i don’t want your fucking help,”

he growled, his voice rough and strained.

you recoiled at his tone, knowing that his tolerance was quite low at the moment, tears welling up in your eyes.

“but jake… you’re hurt,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“i just wanna take care of you.”

“do i have to spell it out for you to understand?just leave me alone!”

he snapped, his anger unleashing at once.

“i don’t need you fussing over me like i’m some kind of child!”

you took a step back, your heart breaking at his harsh words.

you knew he didn’t mean it, that his anger was just a mask for the pain he was feeling, but it still hurt you deeply.

you felt the tears start to spill over, unable to hold them back any longer.

jake’s eyes widened as he saw you fall apart, the realization of what he had just done hitting him like a ton of bricks.

his anger dissolved in an instant, replaced by a look of pure horror and disappointment in himself.

“oh god, i’m so sorry,” he choked out, his voice breaking.

“i didn’t mean to yell at you, baby. i would never... i would never intentionally speak to you that way. please, believe me.”

you could see the tears welling up in his eyes, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs with the frustration of himself.

your heart ached at the sight of him, so broken and vulnerable.

it wasn’t jake’s fault, you knew it.

it wasn’t like he could control his mental issues, so the best thing you could do was be there for him as he worked on himself.

without thinking, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as he sobbed into your shoulder.

“i know, jakey,” you whispered, your own tears contrasting with his.

“i know you would never wanna hurt me. it’s okay. it’s gonna be okay.”

he clung to you desperately, his body trembling with the force of his sobs.

you held him tightly, your fingers running through his hair in a soothing gesture.

you could feel the tension slowly leaving his body, replaced by a sense of relief and pure exhaustion.

“i’m so sorry,” he repeated, his voice muffled against your shoulder.

“i didn’t mean to snap at you. i’m just... i’m just so tired of myself.”

“i know,”

you murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“it’s okay, jake. i’m here for you.”

you gently guided him to the couch, helping him sit down as you went to get the first aid kit.

he watched you with tear-filled eyes, his expression mixed with guilt and gratitude.

you could see how much he hated himself for losing control, for letting his anger get the better of him.

you sat down beside him, carefully cleaning his wounds and applying bandages where they were needed.

he winced occasionally, but didn’t utter a word of complaint.

the silence between you was heavy with unspoken emotions, but you knew that words weren’t necessary right now.

once you were done, you gently cupped his face in your hands, looking into his eyes as you caressed his cheeks softly.

“you’re not alone, jake,” you said softly.

“i’m here for you, no matter what. we’ll get through this together, you’re it for me.”

he nodded, his eyes glistening with tears.

“i don’t deserve you, baby” he whispered, his voice cracking.

“yes, you do,” you replied firmly with reassurance.

“you’re a good person, jake. you just need to let go of your anger and let yourself be vulnerable. it’s okay to ask for help.”

he closed his eyes, a single tear sliding down his cheek.

“i’ll try,” he murmured.

“for you, i’ll try.”

you smiled, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“that’s all i’ll ever need.”

he pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if he was afraid you’d leave.

you could feel the steady beat of his heart against your chest, a comforting reminder that he was here, with you, in your arms.

the weight of the world seemed to lift off his shoulders as he held you, his breathing slowly evening out.

“i love you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“i love you too, jake,” you replied, your heart swelling with adoration and love.

“i always will.”

you stayed wrapped in each other’s arms for the rest of the night, finding comfort in the warmth of your love.

the world outside may have been harsh and unforgiving, but in this moment, you knew that as long as you had each other, you could overcome anything.

© won4kiss 2024

taglist open <3 @luvlyhee @sjyunnsworld @shawnyle @suneng

send an ask or lmk in comments tba ! <3

[alexiswritingstuff]

Everyone can heal.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Gn!reader

Summary: Logan falls asleep in the day room at Xavier's school, you accidently startle him awake and end up getting hurt.

Genre: hurt/comfort.

Warnings: mentions of blood, and descriptions of wounds, mentions of nightmares.

This is the first time that I am writing in a while, so I hope this isn't just straight up terrible.

A/n: this if my first fic for Logan, so like I usually say when writing for a new character, I may not have portrayed him in an accurate way. There might be parts that seem out of character and such, so please keep that in mind while reading!

Anyway, I've watched the X-men movies since I was a kid. And after watching the new Deadpool and Wolverine movie I was put right back at square one. So, here you go!

I hope you enjoy!!

It had been a long few days.

It was one of the first weeks that you had actually tried to be a professor. Of some sort.

Now, generally, you weren't exactly the kind of person that worked well with kids. It was a lack of experience on your end, as you hadn't gotten the chance to grow up with much others.

But you wanted to learn. Or... did.

The main fault was that you had forgotten to weigh your personal life, more so the things you needed, alongside being a professor in a school.

See, there were a few things that you didn't know about your abilities beforehand. Charles managed to bring some to light, and in turn, you had to figure out how to use them: Incorporate them into your training, into your fighting skills.

It was a lot to relearn. And you misjudged just how much it was going take it out of you.

Though, you didn't seem to be the only one.

Logan was practically in the same boat. Maybe even a little worse. I mean, he was good with kids, but working with them was different, especially when it's a whole group of them at a time. He even bailed on his own classes once. Or twice... could’ve been more.

But you couldn't exactly blame him.

This was the man that barely stayed a week anyway. He was always leaving, whether it was for a bar or something else, you didn't know unless you went with him.

He wasn't used to it yet. The change of being alone, pretty much all the time, to suddenly being surrounded by a boat load of people 24/7. It was understandable. Especially to you, which is probably why you had got to know him so well.

It was the end of the day. The sun was tucked far beneath the horizon, blanketing your part of the earth in a complete darkness. Minus the slight light pollution.

The hallways of the schools were empty at this time, each kid, hopefully, getting a good night's sleep for the next day of learning. But you could never be sure when it came to the teenagers.

It meant that there were less things in the surrounding area for the sound of your footsteps to bounce off. And that, combined with the size of the archways themselves, allowed the echoes to ring a lot longer than needed. 

You were on your way back to the day room, having made a quick stop by the kitchen to get more sodas in order to soothe the joint annoyance of having a lack of beer. 

It was where the two of you usually set up for quiet moments like these. There wasn't really anywhere else to go, unless you wanted to be stuck in an empty classroom, or have to sit on a freezing bench. And neither of you had an interest in being near a bed.

The most important factor about the day room, however, was that it had a TV. Which just so happened to be the first thing you heard after passing through the final corridor.

It was distant, set at a cautious volume. It must've been one of those talk shows, or maybe some kind of sitcom, as a chorus of laughter would erupt after almost every sentence said.

Either way, it didn't really matter. It had only been put on for background noise. A sound that would carry the silence whenever the two of you had stopped talking, unsure of what to bring up next.

Though, it seemed it had worked a little too well.

The last time you got a look at Logan, he had resumed his usual position. He was upright, back pressed firmly into the sofa as if he were trying to meld with it, and leant against the palm of his hand that had his elbow digging into the armrest.

Your feet halted in a matter of seconds of turning into that doorway. Your tongue was curled in your mouth, lips parted and remaining so, as your eyes had landed back on the man.

He was lying in the opposite direction. His body was sprawled across the length of the couch, though his feet were cursed to hang loosely over the edge. His muscles looked tense, regardless of the usual relief that sort of position was supposed to give a person. But that wasn't the interesting part.

His eyes were closed.

At this point the condensation on the bottles had begun to grow into little drops of water, joining together, one by one, before leaking onto your skin.

Your steps were slow, testing each of the floorboards beneath your shoes to avoid the ones that creaked like an old door.

Logan wasn't a person who got tired easily. It was part of his mutation, that of which you had learned very quickly, but apparently it had manifested into thinking that he couldn't even feel it at all. I guess you were wrong.

Though, in his defence, he may not have even meant to fall asleep when he closed his eyes.

Eventually, you had made it to the edge of the couch. There was a side table on each end of it, the safest and the closest option regardless of the fact his shoed feet were almost right above it.

You took one of the bottles in your free hand, making sure that your grip was just right, before beginning the descent to the table.

You held your breath, narrowed gaze flickering consistently from the eventual destination to the sleeping man. The concentration had even caused your tongue to poke through your teeth as you took about a step closer--

And then bam.

Right as the bottom of the bottle had touched down on the wood, this sudden guttural sound rippled through the air. It had you stumbling backwards, gaping in the direction of the continued noise that sounded like fear itself.

In front of you, now, was not the same sleeping man. In fact, this man was sat up, though almost hunched over most of his body. His arms were raised, aimed straight ahead, and that happened to be right at you.

“Whoa-- hey!”

He was heaving. Each breath taken almost shook his entire body. And the noises... They were almost like growls.

They were so deep and harsh as they pushed out of his throat one after the other, but his inhales were somehow even worse. It was like all the air in the room had suddenly dissipated.

It wasn't until you heard the seams of the couch starting to rip that you realised his claws were even out, the ends just about digging into the pillows beside him.

“Logan, hey, it's me, okay? Look,” you attempted to call, trying to lower your head so that he could properly meet your eyes, “Look, it's me!” And then he did. He saw you, even if It took a moment for it to actually kick in. 

He was still heaving, his gaze was fierce and his eyebrows never eased. He had even slightly choked on a breath on its way out.

But you saw the way he had slightly leaned back. There was a relief within the swirl of other emotions.

Until his gaze lowered.

Now, at some point in the past few minutes, the other bottle in your hand had been discarded. It most likely hit the edge of your shoe, sending it to roll off into some corner of the room where it would be forgotten about until morning... But it hadn't smashed.

So, why did something sound like it was dripping?

“Y/n.”

By the time your eyebrows had furrowed in confusion, Logan had hurriedly shoved himself up from the couch, his claws shrinking back between his knuckles within seconds. “Shit.”

You were lost. The sudden switch in atmosphere had you just standing there, fixated on the man that was moving towards you with this look on his face. Similar to one of guilt.

“Logan?” You had barely gotten the name out before you suddenly felt a hand on your arm. Your head snapped in its direction, lips parting so that you could ask what the hell was going on. And then he slightly tilted your arm.

There was your answer. “Oh.”

Three marks. There were three lines etched diagonally into your arm, one deep enough that it led the pooling blood to trickle down your skin. How did you not feel that?

“Fuck,” Logan's hand was careful. His fingers were light and gentle as they grazed the side of your arm. Hesitant. His breaths were getting louder again. “I'm…”

“I'm sorry,” he attempted, his voice barely escaping as a whisper, “I'm so sorry.”

His eyebrows were more furrowed than they were before. The rest of his face was sort of scrunched up too, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Or he was disgusted by it.

“Logan,” You tried placing your hand on his closest wrist, but he immediately retracted. He let go of your arm, “Hey, look, I'm fine, okay?” you started louder, more insistent, “It doesn't hurt.”

Logan shook his head for a moment. He took a slight step backwards, his stance heavy. His eyes never moved. “I'm sorry.”

He grunted, the frown taking over his lips deepening for just a moment before his torso twisted. He grabbed the neck of the successfully placed soda, and then just walked around you.

“No, wait,” You tried to reach out, wanting to grasp his arm or even the fabric of his top, but he swerved, completely avoiding you, “Logan?”

You couldn't even make another attempt as if your other hand was away for longer, more blood would end up dripping on the floor. So, your body turned, desperate eyes following the man in a way that was more of a plea than anything else.

But he never looked back. He continued walking through the doorway, rubbing hard against his temples with a final grunt before disappearing behind the wall.

~~~

The time, at this point, was unclear. The clocks in this school were usually around the learning areas, mostly in the classrooms, which created a sort of guessing game anywhere else.

It was apparent, however, that the sun had just begun to rise. Peeking over the horizon enough so that a bright mist seeped into most of the corridors.

You found yourself back in the hallways. There wasn't a very clear reason as to why than this inability to sit. A failure to be still for seconds at a time, regardless of the tiredness that had started to cling to your skin.

But that was the last thing on your mind.

You kept thinking about it; the previous encounter. It was sort of plaguing your mind, more so how you handled it.

Granted, it was in fact your first time having to deal with a situation like that, and usually you were on the other side. Though this seemed different, like something had just been exposed.

You were aware of the fact that Logan had nightmares. I mean, it was one of the most believable things about him, considering the things he'd gone through. The extent, however, was undetermined.

Until today.

A huff of air sifted through your lips as you attempted to straighten your spine, stretch the accompanying muscles that had grown tense over the past few hours.

The aimless walking was almost nice. The surroundings were mostly quiet, excluding the wind that whistled against the glass of the windows, having picked up some time earlier.

It was that time of year again. The group of months where the weather grew cold and the plants began to change. It almost made the school feel cosy even if there was no heating in the hallways.

In fact, where you were now was the coldest, and it wasn't until you looked up properly that you realised you were about to walk into a dead-end.

Slowly, your feet came to a stop, your lazy eyes blinking hastily in the blaring yellow light, which was starting to mix into this sort of orange.

Your shoulders lowered, a sense of relief filtering through your system as the decision had been final. You were going to go to your room, maybe even get to lay down for a few hours until it was time to teach.

So, you turned on your heel, taking about a step in the other direction as your blurry eyes attempted to focus on the closest doorway, until you could note the surroundings. It was the kitchen.

Now, that door was always open, usually swung all the way back and held by a stopper. But a light was on. Allowing you to properly get a view of the room and what was in it.

More so who.

Your movements had halted right as you were about to take another step.

Logan.

He was sitting at the narrow table at the back, set between the array of windows. His elbows were against the surface of it, one of his hands clasped around a bottle he had just set down. He swallowed, and so did you.

There was an initial pause, seconds taken to calculate the right decision, before you went in. Your lips parted, ready to release the script you had gone over in your head for the last hour--

“I didn't mean to hurt you.”

Instead, you were frozen. The volume of his voice, and the angle he sat at, almost made it seem like the words didn't even come from him. He probably heard you before you had even come down the hall.

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Logan–” you tried, but his mouth opened before you could even finish, “Just let me talk,” He hadn't moved. He was in the same position, still holding the bottle, and staring straight forward like there was someone there across from him. “Okay?”

You brought your lips together, placing a hand on the kitchen island to distribute your weight. Logan took the silence as acceptance and he cleared his throat. “I'm sure you already know,” he had begun, sparing the slightest glance your way for confirmation that didn't even need, “about the... nightmares.”

It was as if something in his mouth went sour when he said it, like the words itself tasted bad.

“Some are about the past, you know-- bits and pieces of it, anyway, but…” Logan paused for a moment, both verbally and physically. It only held for a few seconds. And then he sighed. “There are other ones too- Ones... ones where people get hurt, and, I'm…”

“I'm the one doing it.” It was a slow movement, an action that looked like it had to be forced, as Logan suddenly began turning in his seat. He met your eyes with a look that had your eyebrows furrowing all over again, “I'm the one hurting people.”

“Y/n, I'm sorry.”

“Logan,” you started, shaking your head in disagreement with the apology, but he only repeated it. “I'm so sorry.”

You made your way to the edge of the island, pace slowing once round the corner, “Hey,” Logan's gaze had shifted as you moved. It was lower, directed at a specific point. He was looking at your arm.

It had been engulfed by a layer of, hopefully, the appropriate bandaging. An attempt at following the tips Jean had given you from previous injuries.

But it being covered somehow made it seem worse than it was.

“Hey, look at me,” you called, stopping at a good place where you were actually in front of him, yet still a good distance away so he wouldn’t want to back off. “Look at me.” 

The next words only left your lips when he had finally decided to comply. “I'm fine.” you assured, the tone of your voice much lighter than before. But that made the look on Logan's face shift, “I hurt you.”

“It was an accident,” Your response was quick, your voice making it sound so simple. Like the sentence said should’ve been accompanied by a shrug of the shoulders. Logan didn't like that, “Accident or not, I still hurt you, Y/n.” His tone was riddled with this disbelief, as if he couldn't believe that he had to tell you that in the first place.

“And, I'm still here, Logan.”

You didn't understand it. The two of you had trained together many times, each round ending with either one receiving a new injury until your skills developed. Hell, you had been in battle together.

A little scratch was nothing. “It was a mistake-- my mistake. I'm the one who startled you, shit like this happens.” you tried to assure. Logan scoffed immediately, “What-- Does that make it magically okay for me to hurt people?”

“No!” you huffed out, the ability to contain your annoyance dwindling the more he challenged your statements. “No, okay? But-- You know, what-- Look.”

You took a few more steps, the care for all of the previous caution going completely out the window as you grasped an end of the bandaging, and unwinded the material before pulling back the padding beneath.

“See?”

Logan almost looked like he had buffered for a few seconds. He blinked, and then again, and then twice really fast, as if it would change what was in front of him. His hand had even flexed, like he wanted to reach it out, though it remained on the table.

They were gone. Each mark, each line that was carved into the skin had completely gone. Disappeared without a trace. There wasn't even a scar.

“You…” He spoke slowly, his eyes trailing up the length of your arm to your shoulders. And then your face. “You can regenerate?”

“Granted, a little... Well, a lot slower than you-- But, yeah.” you confirmed, wrapping the bandage up in your hands before placing it on the kitchen aisle behind you.

Logan leaned back slightly in a way that straightened his up spine. He brought his legs from under the table and set them in the direction the rest of his body was facing. He had turned right towards you.

“Are you serious?” The complete deadpan had you staring right back at him. You couldn't read the expression, nor the stance. You didn't even know what to call it. “Yep.” You blinked. Logan didn't move a muscle, “You can heal.” 

Now, you could hear it in his voice. It wasn't just a statement, a form of repetition to clarify the new information. He was getting mad.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “I... I don't really know what else you want me to say.” Which was the truth, the whole healing thing was one of the things you had discovered with Charles. 

It's an entirely different process than it is for most anyway, let alone when it comes to Logan. At the moment you actually had to activate the process for anything to heal. But you were working on it.

I guess it just slipped your mind.

“So, you were just willingly acting like a damn damsel?” The lines around his eyebrows deepened the way they usually did when he was getting angry. And they weren't stopping.

“A damsel?” you repeated, even tilting your head as a wordless question, and he just nodded. “You stood there. You just stood there until I came to you-- You didn't even try to stop the bleeding. Hell, did you even notice?”

That look on his face never changed. You hated it. The way it darkened his eyes, or tensed the surrounding muscles. The most bothersome thing, however, was the fact that it was aimed at you. “No,” you started, this time with a deeper voice. “No, I didn't-- You know, why?”

“Why?” Logan commanded, the veins around his neck becoming apparent. It was as if he was trying to win an argument, get the upper hand and serve some kind of justice, like you had done something wrong.

He was supposed to be relieved.

“Maybe, it's because that was the last thing I cared about, Logan!”

The two of you were just staring at each other. At this point, both of you were almost heaving, the past few minutes taking the air out of both pair of lungs.

The expression on Logan's face twitched for a moment, a crack in the anger that usually wasn't breakable. His posture had become more of a slouch as he suddenly decided to lean back a little, like before.

You watched with curious eyes when he then sighed, breaking the held gaze to grab his bottle of soda and bring it to his lips.

It all resembled a puzzle. A constant attempt to find the right piece, the right thought, that would fit it all together. But there was a lack of progress. You were at a loss. 

Was he mad that you didn't tell him? Was he actually mad that you didn't do anything about the scratches? Were you reacting the wrong way? Did he want you to hate him? Were you supposed to?

Or did he think that you couldn't grasp the situation? The severity. The big 'What if?' Maybe he was in fact tired. 

Just a different kind.

You started to move after another few seconds, the sound of your shoes against the tiles piercing through the layer of created silence. It was apparent that Logan was watching, albeit discreetly, following what he could as he took another swig.

Your movements concluded by the length of the table he was sitting at. You leaned onto it, releasing that weight that had started aching both your knees and your feet from standing for so long.

By the time your eyes were back on Logan, his own had snapped away.

You took in a deep breath of the cold air, feeling it hit the back of your throat, your shoulders deflating, “I get them too, you know... Nightmares.”

There was a beat of silence again. A lack of movement, or reaction. And then he met your eyes again. Slower this time, almost hesitant. He set his drink down ,listening. So, you continued, “I wouldn't go about comparing them,” 

“But, I understand enough to know what it's like.”

Logan sort of huffed a laugh after that. Not a malicious one, or in disbelief of the sentiment. He was acknowledging it. “You shouldn't have to.” 

He was back to that whisper of a voice again. It was still deep, and a tad gravely, almost forceful. But it conveyed enough. “Neither should you.. yet,” you paused, shrugging your shoulders, “Here we are.”

This time, the huffed laugh was louder. More pronounced in a way. It left a mark on his lips, leaving them curling at the corners. It fit right in. You wanted it to stay. Maybe a little too much, “At least, now, I get to say that I was attacked by The Wolverine and survived.” 

The comment was a little dangerous, especially if taken the wrong way. In all honesty, your eagerness allowed it to be blurted right through your lips before you could catch it. 

But Logan practically snorted. “Shut up.” he breathed, bringing the soda back to his lips. You pretended that you didn’t hear him, even crossing your arms over your chest, though a grin had slightly appeared, “I could even say that I defeated him.” 

In about a second his eyes had snapped to yours, a singular brow rising as the bottle smacked onto the surface of the table, “Okay,” He swallowed, “you did not defeat me, bub.”

“Oh, really?” you challenged, attempting to mimic his expression. “You were done after one move.”

Logan pushed the chair with his back in a way that had the legs screeching against the tiles. He stood from it, moving about a step to the side before continuing towards you.

“I was distracted.” he pointed out, gaze narrow as his eyebrows decided to furrow in an attempt to support his justification. “Excuses, excuses,” was all you said, accompanying it with a light shrug.

Logan was right in front of you now. He was close, about a step away. Though, the longer he looked at you, his eyes scanning across the skin of your face, that amusement once held had begun to fade.

He became sort of serious, the tension making the lines of his face more prominent all over again as his lips curved into more of a frown.

“I don't want it to happen again.” He was avoiding your eyes now, his own gaze cast downward. They were following his hand as he had brought it to your arm, the fingers of which ghosting across where the marks had been like he could still see them.

“Logan,” you started, your voice quiet yet loud enough that his attention was recovered. The two of you were looking at each other again, this time properly. Your features eased, all of the concern and the previous anger completely melting away.

You brought the hand of your previously injured arm upward, and he watched it until it went out of his vision.

You gently placed your hand on the side of his cheek, your palm pressing into the hair of his mutton chops which brought his gaze back to yours. And then you smiled lightly, just enough that he could see it, “Even if it did, I am not going anywhere.”

There was this quick twitch in Logan's expression. A split second of movement that had almost gone unnoticed until it happened again. His eyebrows pinched together.

Before you could say a word, he had suddenly pulled you forward, away from the table you were once against.

By the time you were up straight, his arms had wrapped around your body one after the other, entrapping you in this warmth that the kitchen could never achieve. It had you copying him as fast as you could, letting your hands land across the skin of his back and the fabric of the tank top.

Logan's head was planted on your shoulder, his hair sort of tickling the side of your face as he tucked himself in further. 

His body slightly deflated after a moment, a sort of gravelly hum of content rumbling from his throat. He obviously wasn’t putting his entire weight on you, the two of you would've tipped over within seconds. But you could feel it.

An extra weight that you were glad to carry.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Could I request Argenti, Sunday, Sampo, and Gepard finding out their s/o made different plushies of them to cuddle?

Gepard;

This poor guy is blushing to the high heavens upon meeting his plush counterpart that bore a cute yet stoic expression.

The lil guy was no bigger than your hand.

‘There isn’t more of them is there?’ He’d ask and you smiled as you then proceeded to show him the countless others that you’ve made in your spare time.

The poor man was even more flustered than before if that was even possible to begin with. I mean you even made one where he’s holding a cute -but dead- potted plant while pouting!

Despite how flustered he may seem upon seeing himself in cute plushy form, he was really impressed with how good they came out and found the attention to detail you had amazing because it meant everything he’s ever told you was incorporated into each and every plush with love and affection.

‘I’m just curious, what made you want to make these plushies?’ He’d ask and when you told him it was to cuddle something while he was away doing his job.

He feels guilty for not spending as much time as he’d like with you because he throughly enjoys being with you and becomes visibly upset when is needed elsewhere, but he’s never been one to not uphold duty. ‘I’ll do better next time.’ He’d tell you.

You put your hands on his shoulders. ‘You already are doing better Gepard, I know how important this job is for you and I’m not going to ask you to choose between me or your job, that’s cruel of me as your partner to make you chose between two things you love with all your heart.’ You tell him as you pressed a kiss to his cheek, feeling it grow warm under your lips.

‘But-‘

‘But nothing.’ You cut him off. ‘I’ll always be here waiting for you and bedsides,’ you lifted the plush!Gepard, smiling when you saw the blonde blush. ‘I’ll always have you close by in plush form to love on and cuddle with.’ You added cheekily as Gepard held you close and burrowed his face into your neck, cuasing you to laugh at his cuteness.

Argenti:

Is utterly in love with us plush counterpart and appraise your attention to detail made to the plush also, from his pretty eyes, cherry red hair and so forth.

Asks you if there’s more plushies that you’ve made of him while kissing your hands in thanks for their creativity and skill.

You of course said yes.

‘You have a true talent here my beloved flower,’ Argenti praises as he holds the plush of him gently in his hands. ‘This is truly magnificent.’

Your flustered at this point from all of his genuine and sincere comments. ‘Oh they aren’t that great-‘

Argenti then looks at you with wide eyes. ‘Aren’t that great? My beloved rose, your plushies are beyond great! They are beautiful in their own right.’ The cherry haired knight says as he holds your face in his hands. ‘So please don’t doubt your capabilities when they are only just beginning to shine.’

Probably Alamo cried when you tell him the reason you made plush!Argenti was so you could still have something that reminds you of him to keep you company while he was away.

Sunday:

Finds it amusing and adorable as he watched you cuddle against the plush version of himself as though your life depended on it.

‘These are truly impressive my dear.’ He’d say as he looks upon the other plushies of him that you’ve made this far, all dressed in different attires and bore different expressions with deep interest before looking back at you. ‘Is there a reason behind them all? Revisiting an old habit perhaps in crocheting?’ He adds.

‘No, not really, I just wanted to make a plush that I could cuddle with when you’re away.’ You admitted truthfully and Sunday felt his heart melt at your sweet confession as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

‘I apologise for making you miss me and I apologise for the lack of time between us but I’m glad you found a way to compensate for my absence.’ Sunday says as he boops plush Sunday on the nose. ‘Though now I’m here, I’m sure our plush friend here can be relived from his duties for the night?’ He then adds and you blink at him.

Was he…was Sunday jealous of his plush counter part? How cute was that.

‘I’m sure he can take the night off.’ You obliged and set the plushie down on your desk and you joined Sunday in bed, cuddled up and quickly lulled by his bodily warmth into a comfortable sleep.

Sampo:

Can and will show off his little plush counter part to anyone and everyone within view and would listen to him for longer then five minutes.

But imagine his surprise when he finds out that you have other variations of him, his ego skyrockets to unfathomable heights!

‘You must be super in love with me to make a plush of me! How embarrassing!’ Sampo says.

‘Sampo we’ve been dating for a while now.’ You replied with a blank face.

Anyways Sampo loved the little plushies of him and would even take one with him when you weren’t looking to send you pictures of the adventures of plushie sampo through the entire day.

You couldn’t find it within yourself to get made at him for stealing your plushie because the pictures were too cute.

Hell you might even find him cuddle up to one of them if you were carful enough.

[blissfullyecho]

how to create a leveling up/dream girl/rebranding plan 🤍🍸🖤

establish your aesthetic

first thing’s first, you need to know where you want to go in life and what is your “aesthetic”? do you want to be giving “classy, businesswoman”? what about “nyc socialite”? of course these are just examples, but you should know what type of girl you want to embody. remember, you don’t have to fit a narrative, but you should have a general “aesthetic” that you want to be associated with. even if it’s 50 million different aesthetics, it’s whatever makes you, you.

visualize yourself/life

get inspired by making a vision board (physical or digital) and add to your board (if digital) daily. i find that this helps you stay in alignment with where you want to be in the future. you have to stay in that frequency and remind yourself of what’s next to come… because this new life is what’s next to come.

start with habits

please refer to my “starting your leveling up journey” post, but basically— you should create 1-3 habits for each of your goals and work on them until they become second nature. then when you’re ready, start implementing more habits that are aligned with your goals.

create routines with your habits

can you incorporate some of these new habits into a morning or evening routine? we all know that routines are important— they almost become our personalities and they set the tone for the day and night, and even the next day. for me, i know i’m only inspired to exercise in the morning around 10am, so exercise is part of my morning routine.

create daily + weekly goals

let’s say part of your journey is learning a new language. a daily goal could be learning one new vocabulary word in that language. your weekly goal could be knowing the alphabet in that language. use this method for all of your goals.

don’t overwhelm yourself with goals, routines, and habits

start slow; don’t overwhelm yourself. if you want to work on one goal at a time, then work on that one goal. burnout is real and it’s very hard to get back into the swing of things afterwards. i understand most of us are impatient when we just want to be a different version of ourselves, but it’s going to take some adjusting. i suggest not working on more than 3 things at once, but if you can work on more, go ahead

be a part of a community to keep you accountable

tumblr and facebook groups in my opinion are the best ways you can connect with other women who are working on the same thing. you can inspire one another, bounce ideas off of one another, and it’s super fun. you might want to even document your journey online.

set milestones and have a reward system

let’s say you would like to lose or gain weight, no matter the number, focus on 5-10 pound increments. when each milestone is successfully completed, reward yourself with something nice. maybe it’s getting your nails done, or splurging on a product that everyone on tiktok keeps talking about. apply this to any of your goals where there are milestones to get to.

don’t waste the day

you should not have any “zero days” meaning… you should be doing at least one thing everyday to reach a goal(s) you have. it doesn’t matter if one goal was to maintain a more organized, clean environment— do your dishes, set the trash out, clean up the hair from the bathroom sink, etc.

[emisloves]

ONLY ONE FOR YOU ✦ K.SN

PAIRING. fox hybrid!sunoo x bunny hybrid!reader

GENRE. MDNI, explicit content (smut), hybrid x hybrid au

SYNOPSIS. in a shelter for hybrids, you are the first ever bunny hybrid to step foot in there. having no other other hybrids of your species in the shelter, a fox hybrid by the name of sunoo quickly tries to befriend you. despite meeting a lot of resistance from you initially, he soon succeeds. years later, when your first ever heat approaches, you have no other bunny hybrid to spend it with — but that's not a problem, since your best friend always has a solution.

WARNINGS. bullying, reader is considered an outcast, sexual harrasment, attempted sexual assault, reader suffers from extreme anxiety, mentions of past trauma, graphic descriptions of assault, one one-sided physical fight, smut, dubcon, unprotected sex (a big no), overstimulation, clit pinching, clit slapping, nipple pinching, tit slapping, lmk if I missed something!

WORD COUNT. 9k

A/N. GIRLLLL I LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH FOR THIS REQ literally love hybrid fics so much — and to write one of my own?!?! dream come true 🙂‍↕️ couldn't really incorporate corruption in this tho, sorry — hope you enjoy it nonetheless! p.s, had to take a ss of the req instead of directly answering it cuz tumblr literally put a content label on the damn draft 💀 also the smut is shorter than what I normally write, so please excuse that (along with the fact that I couldn't incorporate corruption and dumbification into this) — I'm trying to get used to the concept of 'going into heat' which is why the smut is short–

You were only fifteen years old when the shelter rescued you, having found you curled up in a corner under the bridge, freezing in the cold. They took you in almost immediately, giving you the care you required.

It took them almost two weeks to nurse you back to health, given how close you were to completely freeze over and die from the cold. It was one of the best two weeks of your life, having never received proper care before.

You never knew of your mother or your father, having been in a foster family for as long as you could remember — before they decided you were too much of a burden, taking you out for a ‘walk’, before abandoning you under the bridge, in the snowy weather, leaving you to freeze to death. If it weren't for your rescuers, you probably wouldn't have been alive right now.

While you were immensely thankful to the rescuers, it was weird for you at the shelter — once you were back to full health, that is.

‘And why is that?’, you may ask.

The answer is pretty simple. You were their first ever bunny hybrid.

Why exactly is that a problem? For that, you need to understand how the shelter works.

You see, just because the people rescued you and basically saved your life, doesn't necessarily mean they are good people.

The shelter was near the woods, at a place completely isolated from the rest of the world. The enclosure was huge, divided into several sections, each section having its own purpose.

The first section was for the younger hybrids, aka the hybrids who have yet to go into heat. Here, all the young ones stayed, hybrids of innumerable species mingling around together. This section contained several dorms, each one for a different species of hybrid. It also contained a large swimming pool and playground for the kids to enjoy.

The second section is the heat chamber, or rather, the breeding chamber. Here, hybrids were brought in whenever they went into heat. If two hybrids of the same species but different genders went into heat at the same time, they were locked inside one room for them to breed during the time of their heat. If only one hybrid of a certain species went into heat with no opposite gender hybrid of the same species going through the same, the rescuers randomly picked off a hybrid of the same species from the adult section to breed with the one going in heat.

The third section is the adult section. Here, the hybrids who have already had their first heat are brought, keeping them away from the younger ones.

The last section is the least important one. The servants’ quarter. Here, all the staff in the shelter resided.

The most peculiar thing about the shelter was that the hybrids weren't allowed to go into a section that wasn't their own. For example, an adult hybrid couldn't go into the younger section, and vice versa. Why did this rule exist, you had no idea.

Every section had different sections for different species to stay in, only during the time when they were supposed to take rest/sleep. Since you were the first ever bunny hybrid, you were completely alone in your section, which gave you great privacy during the first two weeks of your stay at the shelter, when the rescuers were trying to nurse you back to health.

It was only after you had completely recovered was when you realized the gravity of the situation.

After much coaxing, you had cautiously stepped out of your room, holding onto the hand of one of your kind rescuers tightly, eyes nervously darting around. This was the first time you had stepped out of your room, feeling extremely anxious at having to step out of your comfort zone — which was why your sweet rescuer was assisting you.

She didn't let go of your hand at all while you guys walked, whispering sweet words of encouragement to you along the way — something which your fifteen year old self appreciated a lot.

You both stopped in front of a door, causing you to look at her, fear evident in your eyes. She simply gave you a comforting smile, squeezing your hand slightly as a form of encouragement, before pushing the door open.

The door led to a huge open area, enclosed with walls. Hybrids of all types were in the open space, the oldest ones being teenagers. Most of them were playing around, some of the older ones sitting around and talking, laughing with each other. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves with each other.

The staff had already informed you about how you were their first ever bunny hybrid — a fact that had only heightened your anxiousness. There really weren't anymore bunny hybrids, causing you to look around nervously.

No one had seemed to notice your presence yet, something which you were fine with — before your rescuer cleared her throat loudly, making everyone stop their activities and look at you both with a curiosity that they didn't bother hiding.

You watched all of their expressions morph into confusion, your own anxiety hiking, your palms starting to become sweaty. You could see them whispering amongst themselves, their confusion evident in their voices — they had never come across a bunny hybrid before, so seeing you in front of them was a bit of a shock.

Your rescuer let go of your hand, causing you to snap your head towards her. She gave you an encouraging smile, beckoning you to go towards them with a tilt of her head. You shook your head, not feeling too encouraged from their reactions.

Yet, after a few seconds of debating with yourself, you slowly turned towards them again — a big mistake on your part. Everyone had a frown on their face, their whispering having intensified. The message they were trying to give you was as clear as day — you weren't welcome here.

Most of them had been here for a while, the older ones having been rescued a long time ago — just like you were — the younger ones having been bred. Most of them already knew each other for a long time, so to see a newcomer hybrid among them? That too of a species that they had never seen before? Why on earth would they welcome you?

You hated the glances they were giving in your direction, their whispers making your skin crawl. It was all so overwhelming to you — especially given the past cruelty that you had faced from your previous owners.

You could feel your eyes start to sting slightly, tears gathering on your eyelashes like transparent pearls. You were about to turn around and run right back through the door, to go to your room and lock yourself inside, never to come out again — before a sudden movement caught your eye.

A young boy — or rather, a fox hybrid — got off the swing that he was sitting on, before taking off in a run — with a jolt, you realized that he was running towards you.

He stopped almost right in front of you, his hands on his knees, panting, as he tried to catch his breath. He didn't look much older than you, his fox ears twitching, tail swishing in between his legs. He shook his head slightly, dusting the invisible dust on his clothes, before standing up straight, sending a radiant smile towards you. His smile was almost bright enough to blind you, his facial features — even the human part — greatly resembled that of a fox’s. His bangs fell on his eyes like a curtain, doing nothing to deter his natural beauty. He extended his hand towards you, his eyes almost turning into crescents from his radiant smile. “Hi! I'm Sunoo! You're the first ever bunny hybrid here, so that's why everyone is a little iffy towards you — but that's alright! They will warm up to you in no time. Would you like to be friends?”

Having noticed other people's reactions towards you, you were skeptical to accept his proposal of being friends — not to mention he was a fox hybrid — a predator. Would it really be ideal to be friends with someone like him?

Your anxiety and fear mixed together, causing you to take a step back, your eyes shaking slightly. Your reaction caused a small pout to form on his face, but it didn't deter him. He took a step forward, his hand still extended towards you. “Come on, let's be friends — I promise I don't bite–”

His last sentence caused your anxiety to spike, causing you to step backwards again. The rescuer that came with you watched the scene unfold with amusement, knowing how Sunoo’s nature was. The rest of the hybrids rolled their eyes at him, wondering why he was trying so hard to befriend you when you were nothing like the rest of them — a ‘strange creature’, that's what they called you.

You couldn't take it anymore. Sunoo’s insistence to befriend you was causing the whispering to increase, the whispers gradually becoming more hostile, all sorts of nonsense directed towards you. You balled up your fists, before turning on your heel, taking off in a run.

You tried to get to the door, your efforts in vain as the door was closed. Reaching it, you realized it was locked. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you turned, your heart almost jumping out of your chest when you realized that Sunoo was right behind you. Once again, there was a pout on his face. “I know I look a little scary but I promise I’m harmless! C’mon, let’s be friends — I won’t leave you alone until you say yes!"

You were frankly starting to get annoyed by him. You had never met a boy — or rather, a hybrid — around your age, and you wished it stayed that way. Why must he be so persistent? Besides, the idea of a predator and prey being friends was simply — weird. Surely he was smart enough to know that?

Sunoo either didn’t realize that, or he didn’t care. Either way, he wasn’t leaving you alone, following you around the entire space — playground — not caring about your efforts of trying to avoid him at all costs. He ran after you, calling out to you, yelling ‘slow down!’ behind you. You paid no heed, only running faster, trying to escape him. The other hybrids had lost interest in you by now, leaving both of you in your own little world.

At one point, you saw your rescuer open the door to leave, causing you to speed up. Before she could close the door, you slipped outside. You did a mental dance for how fast you were, before turning around, your heart dropping.

There was Sunoo, right behind you, panting again, his hands on his knees. He slowly straightened up, before speaking. “Wow, you’re super fast — I usually outrun everyone but you’re even faster than me! We should definitely be friends now, don’t you think so?”

You blinked at him, both annoyed and impressed by how persistent he was. You quickly turned on your heel, running away to your room. Just as you were about to close the door to your room, he stuck his foot inside the crack, causing you to jump back from shock. He opened the door by himself, before letting himself in, closing the door behind him.

He looked around your room in awe, before turning to you. “Your room is so different from ours — we don’t have such huge windows!”

You stared at him, your lips parted in shock. You had greatly underestimated exactly how persistent he was. For the first time since you met the other hybrids, you spoke. “Why are you inside my room? Why won’t you leave me alone? The others don’t like me, so why are you so insistent on being friends?”

Sunoo blinked rapidly, before speaking. “Woah there, slow down — one question at a time please. You keep running away, so I followed you here. As for why I won’t leave you alone, I already told you — I won’t leave you alone until you agree to be friends with you. I can be very persuasive — perks of being a fox hybrid. As for ‘why’ — I love making friends, and since you don’t want to be my friend, it just makes me want to befriend you even more.”

You crossed your arms, glaring at him through furrowed brows, your bunny ears twitching in annoyance. “When will you give up?”

He grinned, leaning on the wall on the shelf on his side. “As soon as you agree to be friends with me. You definitely look like you need friends, especially here — everyone needs a companion here, don't you think?”

With a sigh of resignation, you gave up. He had already made it quite clear that he wasn't going to leave you alone — no matter how hard you try to escape him. It was better to just accept his proposal, wasn't it? Besides, he was the only one here who showed a positive reaction to your arrival, he could be a good friend. “Fine! Let's be friends then.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, he stopped leaning on the shelf, looking at you with an even brighter smile than before, his eyes sparkling. “Really?! See, I told you I am very persuasive — come on, let's go back to the playground, I'll give you a tour!”

Sunoo excitedly grabbed your hand, dragging you back to the playground. The entire way he kept talking about the shelter, its different sections, the various restrictions and what not.

“–and then there is the heat chamber, or for lack of a better word, the breeding chamber. Whenever one of us goes into heat, we are made to stay there, in the company of another hybrid of the same species as us.”

You tilted your head, gazing at him with curiosity sparkling in your eyes. “Heat?”

He momentarily stopped his tangent, turning to look at you. “Yea…? Do you not know what that means?”

When you shook your head, he continued, slight disbelief mixed in his voice. “Well — when we are between the age of eighteen and twenty one, we experience our first ever heat. During our heat, we feel extremely feverish and an overwhelming urge to — well, mate. Unless and until our body thinks that we have mated, we are going to be — absolutely feral. It would be dangerous for a hybrid in heat to be around people — unless it's their mating partner.”

Once he was done explaining, his gaze had turned a lot more sheepish, trying to avoid making eye contact with you. His tail swished nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he gulped, trying to gulp down his sudden flusteredness.

His flustered state affected you as well, your ears twitching nervously, your face and neck flushed, burning hot with embarrassment. You cleared your throat. “T–Thank you–”

He nodded, the redness starting to slowly disappear from his cheeks. “You’re welcome — oh did you know about–” Just like that, he went back to talking about random stuff. As you listened to him go on and on about even the most mundane of things, you started to zone out, thinking deeply.

Sunoo was an extremely bright person, almost as bright as the sun. He had a smile so radiant that it could light up an entire room. He was extremely intelligent and had really good intuition. He was good at observing people too, and could be very persuasive when he wanted to be. He was friends with literally everyone in the shelter, which also allowed him to have extensive knowledge about what happens in the shelter; which explained why he knew so much about the shelter and its ways.

He showed no signs of shutting up anytime soon. Just as you were about to snap at him, a loud bell rang, cutting him off. He looked at you with a pout. “That’s the bell — it’s telling us to retreat to our rooms.”

You were relieved at finally getting a chance to get away from him and his non stop babbling — but of course you weren’t going to tell him that. “Right — I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

He flashed his blindingly bright smile at you. “Definitely! You can’t get rid of me anytime soon–”

He got cut off by a staff yelling at the two of you to cut it out and go back to your rooms, causing his pout to return. He reluctantly waved you goodbye, before the two of you parted ways.

As days passed by, you and Sunoo grew closer, your bond unbreakable. At times you felt a little guilty for hogging up all of his time, since you weren’t his only friend — but whenever you voiced this out to him, he always shot you down.

“You’re my best friend. It doesn’t matter if I have other friends — you’re always going to be my first priority.”

You would feel your fluffy tail twitch from slight embarrassment at his words, your face flushing. All you would do was nod and give him a grateful smile.

Other times you would feel pissed. What did he mean by ‘first priority’? Did he think that you wouldn’t survive without him? That you were a pitiful person with only one friend — that friend being him?

You would quickly shake your head to get rid of those thoughts. How stupid and ungrateful of you — to think so lowly of the only person that willingly became friends with you? The only person in this dreadful shelter that shows you a bit of care?

It was weird — your thoughts, that is. You definitely were more anxious than any other hybrid in the shelter — a trait that was probably passed down from your human parent. You absolutely hated it, but you had to bear with it. After all, you couldn’t possibly do anything about it anymore — especially given the situation.

It was around a month or two after your twentieth birthday, Sunoo’s own birthday having passed a little over six months or so. The two of you were sitting in the sun, on top of a blanket, joking and laughing around with each other. Suddenly, Sunoo’s laugh died down, his forehead creasing. “What the fuck — why do I suddenly feel sick?”

And sick he was. His entire body was suddenly covered in a sheen of sweat, beads of it falling down his temple. His face and neck was flushed. He let out a low groan, clutching his head, screwing his eyes shut. You quickly reached over to place a hand on his forehead, checking his temperature — only to jerk your hand back immediately. He was burning up.

He held his head with both hands, low groans of discomfort leaving him, his ears twitching, tail swishing about. Feeling helpless, you looked around, not finding a single staff in the huge playground.

You looked back at him, biting your lip at how terribly he seemed to be suffering out of nowhere. You made up your mind, before trying to pull him up to his feet. “Cooperate with me here Sunoo, we need to get you to a staff so that you can be taken care of.”

WIth difficulty, you managed to haul him up to his feet, the two of you almost stumbling. You managed to drag him to the door, opening it. Once you were inside again, you began yelling. “Hello? Is anyone there? He is sick and in need of immediate medical attention–”

No sooner did you finish yelling, did two staff members appear. The both rushed to you, quickly taking him off your hands. With haste, they pulled him to the medical area, quickly assisting him onto a bed. As you watched from outside, you saw some of the staff inside whispering amongst themselves, pointing to your best friend.

After a while of examining him, you saw the staff inside break out into smiles, before quickly replacing it with their usual stoic expressions. One of the staff members came out. “He is alright, he just needs to rest for a while.”

You frowned. “How long is ‘a while’?”

The staff subtly rolled her eyes. “As long as it takes. Off you go now.”

Before you could say another word, she was gone, already going back inside. Once inside, she noticed you still looking inside through the glass. She quickly walked over to the area, before shutting the blinds, not before you caught another glimpse of Sunoo, passed out on the bed, drenched in his own sweat.

If you had looked a little harder, you would have noticed the tent slowly forming in his pants.

Two weeks. Fourteen days. Three hundred, thirty six hours. Twenty thousand, one hundred, sixty minutes. One million, two hundred nine thousand, six hundred seconds.

That's how long it had been since you last saw Sunoo.

You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this lonely. It almost hurt your pride to admit, but you cried a few times to sleep over the past few days.

If this wasn’t already enough, the other hybrids finally got an opening to bully you, without having to worry about your best friend coming to defend you. Every time you went to the playground, you were cornered by hybrids of various species, all of them having the same aim — to make your life miserable.

They usually poked fun at your long ears and tiny tail, sometimes going as far as to grab them, pulling on them — you still being the shelter’s only bunny hybrid did not help deter the bullies.

They would call you a spineless coward and laugh at you when they would notice the tears start to gather at your waterline — only leaving you alone when a staff would interfere, which, nine-out-of-ten times, did not happen.

You were in the playground again, the only reason for you going there was in hopes of seeing Sunoo — a hope that got shattered pretty soon.

As soon as you stepped foot in the playground, you felt a harsh push to your back, causing you to fall down, face first. You somehow managed to not fall on your face and potentially break your nose, by balancing yourself on your hands. As you peered over your shoulder, your ears drooped from fear.

Two of the most notorious hybrids were right behind you, identical grins on their faces, grins that screamed ‘evil!’. They were two bull hybrids, fraternal twins. Their sole purpose in life was to annoy the fuck out of people. The worst thing about them was that they had no idea where to draw the line.

One of them, the bigger one out of the two, sneered down at you. “What a pathetic little bunny — can’t even defend herself. What, you need your cute little fox hybrid to defend you all the time? Is that why you’re always around him? Pathetic.”

By now, you had fully turned around, your entire weight resting on your palms. Your eyes flicked between the two of them nervously, not knowing what they might do to you.

The second one leaned down to your height, before lifting a hand and rubbing at the fur of your ear, causing you to flinch. He paid no attention to your flinching, continuing to fondle your ear. He then turned to his twin and spoke. “Do you see how soft her fur is? If we had more than one of her, a boy, we could have made such pretty babies — each one would be sold at a higher rate than the previous one — all because of their fur.”

You froze at their words, your eyes growing wide with fear. What the fuck?–

You tried to subtly crawl backwards, something which they immediately caught on to. The one touching your ear grabbed it tightly, pulling it with enough force to make a strangled cry leave your throat. “Where the fuck do you think you're going? We haven't even done anything yet.”

To your utmost horror, he grabbed the front of your top, before trying to pull on it. You immediately stopped him with your hands, refusing to be taken advantage of in such a manner. The two of them laughed at you, before the one pulling at your clothes doubled his efforts. “Come on dumb bunny, just let me do this — you bunnies are supposed to be in heat almost all the time anyway, along with a very high libido — why are you pretending like you don't want this? Like you aren't a fucking slut under that ‘holier–than–thou’ guise of yours?”

You were beyond disgusted by their words, trying your best to stop the guy from attempting to defile you. In the process of your struggles, a button from your top popped off, causing your breath to hitch. Taking advantage of your momentary distraction, he pulled harder, effectively managing to tear it open.

You let out a loud gasp, both of fear and embarrassment, quickly lifting your hands to cover yourself. You were suddenly aware of how the three of you weren't the only ones in the playground, also how none of the others had come to your rescue.

They tried to push your hands away from where they were covering yourself. “Stop fucking acting like you aren't a whore — this can be over so much faster if you just fucking cooperate–”

You wrapped your arms around your chest tighter, tears starting to gather in your eyes. You felt disgusted by them, but even more disgusted by the rest of the hybrids who were simply watching the spectacle, enjoying it even–

His twin grew impatient, coming down behind you grabbing at your arms and assisting him in trying to pull them away from your chest. He managed to pry off a finger, causing them to redouble their efforts. It paid off, and they were able to almost pull off one of your hands–

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?!”

The two of them froze at the sudden interruption, before turning to look at the source. You peeked around them too, to look at your savior, your eyes greeting a sight that caused them to widen, almost comically so.

The person who yelled was none other than your best friend, Sunoo, who you hadn’t seen in an entire fortnight. He looked — different.

His fists were clenched tightly, his knuckles almost turning white from the pressure. There was an angry crease in his forehead, his eyebrows scrunched from barely contained anger. His jaw was clenched, a singular vein being prominent in his neck, pulsing wildly. His ears stood erect on his head, his tail swinging wildly. He looked like he was seconds away from pouncing them and ripping them into shreds.

It seemed like the twins had the same thought about him, both of them quickly getting up and running away. You hugged yourself tighter, remembering that your top was still torn.

Your best friend noticed your action, his demeanor immediately softening. He quickly rushed to you, shielding your body with his, before slowly ushering you up. He made sure to cover you, to save what little dignity you had left, dragging you to the door. Opening it, he stepped inside, quickly pulling you in the direction of your room. Once inside, he quickly shut the door, turning the other way, giving you the much needed privacy to change.

Once you were done changing, you let him know. “I’m decent now — you can turn around.”

He slowly turned around looking at you. The two of you held eye-contact for a bit, before breaking it, checking out each other’s appearance. He had certainly had two rough weeks, his hair seeming one shade darker than its natural color, face looking haggard. He also had enormous dark circles — yet none of it deterred his natural beauty. Judging by his concerned eyes, you could only assume that you too looked different from how he last saw you, although you had it a lot worse.

He stepped forward, reaching his hand out to tentatively cup your face. “Did they try to do something like this before as well? I swear I’ll kill them–”

You quickly cut him off. “No no — they didn’t try anything as — as physical as this before. This was the first time…”

His eyes darkened at your words. “‘As physical’? They did other things to you?”

Your breath hitched at the dark edge in his voice. “T-They did — but it wasn't anything serious! It was just — a bit of teasing, that is all.”

He pursed his lips, his eyes still taking all over you in concern. “If you say so…”

You looked at his own state, an overwhelming urge to hug him coming over you — so you did.

You wrapped your arms around his neck tightly, your chest colliding with his, almost knocking the breath out of him from the force of the impact. He looked at you in shock, since you had never hugged him before. He quickly hugged you back, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you impossibly closer, rubbing your back in a soothing manner.

You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, letting out a small sigh of contentment. You hadn't realized what a big part of your life he had become, only realizing it after the torturous two weeks that you had to endure without him.

You almost couldn't believe how much you missed him, how badly you craved his presence. You were grateful for having him in your life, and you truly wished you could say all of it to him — but that's hard to do, given your reserved nature. But you still try.

And you did try. “I missed you — so fucking much. Every day was practically torture without you…”

He somehow hugged you tighter, nuzzling himself into you. “I missed you a lot too — you have no idea how badly it was killing me to not be able to talk to you.”

You broke the hug, staring into his eyes. “What happened to you though? They told me you’ll be alright, and didn't even let me see you. When I went to visit you in the medical room, you weren't even there — I asked the staff, and they told me you needed better medical attention and were getting treated elsewhere. I tried pressing for more details, but they refused to say anything. How sick were you that they couldn't even let me visit?”

He grimaced slightly. “I — wasn't exactly sick.”

You frowned, tilting your head slightly. “You weren't sick? How is that possible? You were burning up when I got you to the medical area, and they moved you to another place–”

He sucked in a deep breath, cutting you off. “I wasn't sick — I was in heat.”

You froze, blinking aggressively to process the information. “You were in heat?” You echoed.

“In heat.” He echoed back.

You opened your mouth to say something, before closing it again. So your best friend went into heat two weeks ago — which means his heat probably ended today. Which also means that he is basically classified as an ‘adult’ now, like all the other hybrids that have gone into heat at least once. So how on earth did he come inside the so-called ‘younger’ section? Weren't hybrids of different sections not allowed to go into the other sections?

When you voiced out your concerns to him, he gave you a wry smile. “Technically speaking, I'm not allowed to be here — but being friends with even the staff had its perks, I suppose. They allow me to go anywhere I want, unless it results in a life-threatening situation.”

You nodded skeptically. “Right — so I'll still see you everyday? Like how I did before — before you went into heat?”

“Yep. You will.” He confirmed.

You sighed. “That's great–”

The sound of the bell ringing cut you off. You hadn't even realized how much time had passed. He ran a hand through his hair. “See you tomorrow then?”

“Yep — see you tomorrow.”

It was around 4 weeks later, the time when Sunoo’s heat was supposed to hit him again. The two of you had somehow grown even closer than before, stuck to the hip at all times. Your best friend seemed to have become a lot more protective too, having an arm around you at all times, glaring at anyone who seemed to look your way. He had changed a lot personality wise as well, becoming a lot colder than before — although he was still friendly to most people.

The two of you were walking around aimlessly in the halls, silently. Both of you were anxiously counting down to when his heat was going to hit him, even if it wasn’t fixed — for all you both knew, it could be the tomorrow, yet that thought didn’t remove the anxiousness that had enveloped the two of you.

Suddenly you stopped, an indescribable feeling taking over you. It was almost as if someone wrapped you in a blanket filled with heating pads.

You felt hot, hotter than you ever felt before. It was a searing heat that was tearing at your insides, crawling through your skin, begging to be let out. It was tickling everywhere, spreading inside your body like a wildfire, licking at everything in it’s way–

It was only when your bestfriend shook you did you realize that you had fallen in his arms, the heat having caused you to faint momentarily. “Are you alright? You just fainted out of nowhere and are sweating a lot–”

You tuned his voice out, too focused on his concerned face. There was a crease between his eyebrows, a concerned frown on his face. Your ears twitched as you realized how pretty his eyes looked from this close, his lips looking like a pair of soft velvety cushions. You concentrated on the way they were moving. You wondered if his lips would move against yours like that if he kissed you. How would his lips even feel against yours? Soft? Aggressive? Or would it–

You snapped yourself out of your thoughts. What were you even thinking? That was your best friend of almost five years now, how could you think of him in such a crude manner?

With a burning shame, you realized that your tail was twitching violently, panties were soaked — the immense heat in your body not making it any better. You had no idea what was happening, so you looked at Sunoo for help.

He looked at your pleading eyes and sweaty body in his arms, before the realization dawned on him. You were going in heat.

He quickly placed his hand that was under your waist more securely, before bending down to place his other hand under your knees, carrying you in bridal style. He ran in the direction of the heat chamber, calling out for staff on the way.

Once he was in front of the chamber, he kicked the door open, quickly running to the bunny section, having now been joined by two staff members, running by his side, shouting directions to him. He rushed you inside one of the rooms in that section, placing you down on the bed gently.

Your eyes screwed shut, eyebrows furrowed, a low groan leaving you. You started to squirm on the bed, causing the two staff members to quickly rush forward and tie your hands and legs to the bed, shocking Sunoo. He couldn’t say anything, simply watching it all unfold in disbelief.

Once the staff were done tying you down, they stepped back, watching you squirm in the bed, the heat radiating off your body, the sweat having drenched your clothes making them stick to your body. Your best friend immediately turned to them, speaking to them with a clenched jaw and barely contained anger. “Why the fuck did you tie her down? Aren’t you supposed to put another bunny hybrid with her to help her with her heat?”

The female staff turned to him. “We don’t have any other bunny hybrids, I’m sure you already know that. She needs to spend her heat alone.”

He looked at her, appalled. “Alone?! You know that’s not safe! She could die from the immense heat!”

Both the staff members rolled their eyes at him, ushering him out and walking out of the room themselves. “She will be fine, she’ll just have a terribly high fever. She’ll live.”

He stared at them in disbelief, the male staff pulling him outside by grabbing his arm. He looked behind him at your writhing figure, little whines of discomfort leaving you. The scene was quickly replaced by the door, as the staff shut it. They locked the door, before turning to him. “It will be better if you leave now. You won’t be able to hear her either, the walls are soundproof.”

They turned to leave immediately, causing his anger to spike. How could they be so cruel? How could they leave you to potentially die?

But you weren’t going to die. Not on his watch.

In a split second’s decision, he ran towards both the staff, grabbing the back of the head of the guy and pulling him backwards, slamming him down on the ground. The other staff gasped, quickly opening her mouth to scream — only to be grabbed by the throat. He lifted her by the throat, pushing her on the wall, restricting her air supply. Her face soon turned purple, before she fainted. He slammed her head on the wall behind her for good measure, before throwing her on the ground.

He turned behind him, looking at the guy on the ground. There was some blood on the back of his head, staining the ground, as he tried to crawl away. Your best friend quickly marched to the guy, before bending down. He grabbed the back of his head, before slamming it down on the ground again, knocking him out cold.

He fished for the keys to your room in the staffs’ pockets, before grabbing them and quickly going to your room. He unlocked the door, opening it, his ears filled with the sounds of your pitiful whimpers. He stepped inside, shutting the door and locking it from the inside. The way the doors were built, no one would be able to open a door in the heat chambers if they are locked from the inside, since hybrids go absolutely feral when they are in heat — a fact that he used to his advantage.

He turned to you, approaching you slowly. He had no idea why exactly he was doing this — all he knew was that he wanted — needed you to live, no matter what it would take.

He stopped right in front of you. His eyes raked over your figure, your entire body completely drenched — making you look like you were dunked in a pool with your clothes on. Your ears were twitching uncontrollably, your lips having formed a pout that kept trembling.

He lifted his hand, cupping your face, causing your eyes to shoot open. You took in a sharp intake of breath, panting heavily, staring at him with wide eyes. “Sunoo I — it’s so unbearably hot, I can’t–”

He was quick to silence you. “I know princess, I know. Just let me take care of you, I promise I’ll make it better.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, climbing over you on the bed, planting his legs on either side of you. He was quick to undo all the restraints on your body, giving you the freedom to move as you pleased. You didn’t move, simply staring up at him with parted lips and pleading eyes, breathing heavily. He was shocked at your self restraint — usually hybrids would be all over literally anyone near them when they are in heat — but a bunny hybrid?

Bunnies are supposed to be the most feral animals out there when they are in heat — hell, there was a literal phrase because of this exact fact, the phrase being ‘fucking like a rabbit in heat’. But somehow, you had a lot of self control — either that, or you hadn't yet registered what was exactly happening to you.

He cupped your face with one hand again, swiping his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down with just his thumb. Your eyes had glazed over, allowing him to do whatever he wanted — of course he was going to take advantage of that.

He grabbed the ends of your skirt, starting to slowly lift it up. Your body was drenched in sweat, the heat emancipating from you turning your head into mush. But your heat had not yet hit you fully, allowing a little portion of the rational part of your brain to protest against his actions.

As soon as he had lifted your skirt up enough to reveal the drenched cotton material of your panties for him to feast upon with his eyes, something in your brain snapped, allowing you to be aware of your surroundings once again.

Your eyes widened as you realized the position you were in — or rather, the position in which you and your best friend were in. “S–Sunoo what are you–”

He immediately silenced you with a finger to your lips. “Hush, pretty. This is all for your own good.”

You squirm underneath him. “M–My own good? But — we are friends — friends don't — don't do anything like this–”

He knitted his eyebrows, growing slightly impatient. “Do what? Save your life? I'm trying to make sure that nothing happens to you, and instead of being grateful you decide to be a brat? You realize I could easily leave you here to deal with your heat on your own, just like the staff were planning? But instead, I decided to go against them and help you with your heat, since there are no bunny hybrids in this shelter — other than you, of course — who can help you out. So just be quiet, yea? Stay put like a good girl and take what I'm giving you — it's all for your own good, after all.”

You went to protest again, but he quickly slapped a hand over your mouth to silence any further protests from you. He suddenly cupped you through your utterly soaked panties, causing your breath to hitch, your eyes rolling into the back of your head from the feeling. A muffle moan left you, making him let go of his hold on your mouth, wanting to hear more of your pretty sounds.

He traced his finger on your panties, right above your slit, causing more slick to gush out of you and stain the bed below. He pushed the panties inside your slit with one poke of his finger, your bare pussy coming into his view. Your cunt was entirely covered in your slick, your pussy lips swollen, begging for attention. He groaned at the sight, his mouth salivating from the sight itself. “Look at you princess — look so fucking pretty like this. Are you sure you didn’t want this?”

You could say nothing, only a whimper leaving you at his words, the insatiable need to get fucked slowly clouding up your brain. You bucked your hips against his hand, needing him to do something, anything.

He finally decided to stop torturing you, pulling your panties down and throwing them on the floor. As soon as the cold air hit your bare cunt, your heat hit you fully.

The lower part of your body felt like it was on fire, excessive slick pouring out of you in obnoxiously large amounts. Your whines increased to a fever pitch, your hips bucking up wildly in the air. You grabbed your best friend’s shoulders tightly, pulling him into a rough kiss. Your hips bucked against his in a desperate manner, his groans only increasing your need to be filled.

You were finally acting exactly how a bunny in heat was supposed to act, turning him on a lot more than you should have. His own pants grew tighter and tighter, stained by your slick. The kiss grew messier, saliva smearing all over your chins.

He finally had enough, grabbing both of your hands in one of his own, before breaking the kiss, your whines immediately filling the air. They quickly died down once he tore your skirt, discarding the ruined material by throwing it somewhere in the room. He did the same to the rest of your clothes. In normal circumstances, you would have definitely minded, but right now your brain was too lust-driven to care.

He let go of your hands once he was done completely undressing you — big mistake on his part, since you immediately grabbed his shirt and tore the buttons open. You fiddled with the button on his jeans, him having to assist you, before he was revealed to you in all his naked glory.

His cock stood tall and proud against his stomach, his tip an angry red, leaking a generous amount of precum. Under normal circumstances, he would have taken his time — eat you out; make you sit on his face, suck him off — but right now you were too desperate for any kind of foreplay. He knew nothing would satisfy your heat until you were properly bred — which was exactly what he was going to do.

He grabbed both your hands again and pinned them above your head in one of his own, before you became impatient again. He slowly pumped his cock in the other, smearing his precum all over it — not that he needed to, since your slick was enough to use as a lube.

Your impatient whining started once again, hips bucking up in the air, causing him to chuckle. “Such an impatient little brat, can't even wait to get filled up. It's all you need anyway, isn't it? Such a cock hungry whore”

Before you could say anything — even if you did it would probably be some pathetic pleading on your side — he aligned his tip with your entrance, coating it with some of your slick, before sliding in with ease, bottoming out. He reveled in the high pitched whimper that left you at the intrusion, one hand pressing down on the bulge on your stomach. The added pressure caused your eyes to roll up, cute breathy ‘please’s’ falling from your pretty lips, which were swollen from the intensity of the kiss earlier.

He pulled himself almost completely out, before plunging inside again. He set up a brutal pace, the slick pouring out of you making it easier for him. He held your hips tightly, snapping his own into yours, your slick making loud squelching sounds at the impacts.

He reached one of his hands up, pinching and twisting your nipple between his fingers, rubbing it harshly. He delivered a rough slap to your tits, your moans simply increasing in volume.

His hand traveled downwards, going to your clit, pinching it. He rubbed hardened nub harshly, the added sensation making your breath uneven, whimpers of his name falling from your lips. He cursed, before increasing the pace of his hips, slamming into you at such a fast pace that it almost felt like he was trying to tear apart your insides.

It was almost as if he felt like it wasn't enough, causing him to put his hands under your thighs and lift your legs up, pushing them against your chest. He rammed his hips against yours once again, the new angle allowing him to hit deeper, right into your cervix. As soon as his tip touched the spongy part of your walls, you let out a loud gasp, a shiver running through you. He smirked at your reaction. “Found it.”

He pounded into you at an even faster pace, your hands desperately holding onto the headboard, your ears flopping wildly with every thrust of his. His mushroom tip hit your cervix every time, whimpers falling from your lips in a beautiful melody.

His jaw was clenched, his hair sticking to his forehead because of the sweat. Even if he could reach deeper and feel your walls clenching around him tighter, the position wasn't enough — no, he needed to breed you like a proper mate would, otherwise this would be of no use.

As soon as he tried to slide out of you, you somehow managed to wrap your arms around his neck — albeit with some difficulty due to the position he had you in — and held him tightly, not allowing him to move. He was caught off-guard for a moment, before he allowed a smirk to break through. “What happened princess? Is this not enough for you?”

You whined slightly. “D-Don’t go — ‘m close–”

As soon as the words left your mouth, his eyes darkened, causing him to grab your thighs again, pressing them harder against your chest, nearly folding your body in half. He slammed his hips into yours at a brutal pace, barely giving you time to breathe. Every thrust of his had you screaming his name, the band in your stomach tightening almost painfully.

He brought one hand down to your clit, rubbing it painfully, the added stimulation making you choke on your screams. He flicked your clit, before pinching it harshly, causing you to reach your breaking point.

Your body spasmed around him, your creamy release coating his cock. He fucked you through your orgasm, a white ring forming on the base of his cock, making him groan at the sight. Once you stopped spasming, he pulled out — even though he hadn't cum yet.

His cock was pulsing, the tip an angry red. His entire length was covered with your sticky release, causing him to suck in a breath. His eyes went to your face.

You were still coming down from your high — which was hard, since you could only do so once you had been bred — which you clearly haven't. Even if you did, it still wouldn't be enough, since you would be hit with another wave in twenty minutes — the process would continue for two weeks, before your heat finally gets over.

Neither your problem was solved, nor was his, which only led to one logical solution — to fuck you again. He had to breed you, even if the two of you technically couldn't have kids because of the difference in species — but that wouldn't stop him from trying.

He grabbed your waist, before quite easily flipping you onto your back, pushing your ass up the air — making you properly present yourself the way you would for your mate. You let out a loud gasp — even if your heat hadn't calmed down, you were still very sensitive at the moment, the aftershocks of your orgasm still evident.

Even if he realized it, he didn't care. He aligned his throbbing length to your pussy once again, before slamming himself inside. His mushroom tip immediately pushed into your g-spot, making you see stars. Noticing your body's reaction, he pulled out almost completely, leaving only the tip inside, before slamming himself back in. You choked on your gasp, but he showed no mercy. He pounded into you at a rough pace, the mating position making the whole situation a lot more intimate.

He tried to not give it much thought, focusing on the way he kept disappearing inside you, the primal urge to mark and breed you taking over the rational part of his brain — even if breeding you was physically not possible.

He pushed his hand under your stomach, pulling you up, your back colliding with his chest. His hand then reached up to grab your neck, a small whimper escaping you. He squeezed your throat slightly, continuing to ram his hips into yours. The sounds of both of your skins slapping against each other filled up the room, along with your moans. His other hand reached down to your clit, rubbing it harshly, trying to force another orgasm out of you.

It wasn't too hard, given that you were in heat and hadn't been bred yet. Your moans increased substantially, alerting him of how close you were. With one last slap to your clit, your cunt clenched around him tightly, your walls spasming around him. Your creamy release dripped past his length, staining the bed under you.

Your orgasm triggered his own, causing his hips to still, his head thrown back with a groan. He shot out hot ropes of cum into you, painting your walls white. His hips moved shallowly inside you, his dick twitching, until he was spent. He pulled out his softening length, your exhausted body flopping down on the bed.

He flopped down beside you, his own chest rising up and down from the exertion, trying to catch his breath. He turned to you, pulling you in a hug. He stroked your hair softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “How do you feel?”

You nuzzled your face against his chest. “Like I'm on cloud nine.”

He let out an amused smirk, which quickly vanished. His body was somehow starting to fill up with an unexplainable heat, blood once again rushing to his cock. He frowned, unable to tell why he was suddenly turned on even after having practically fucked you to oblivion — before it hit him.

His heat was due.

As the realization hit him, his body began to be covered by a sheen of sweat, beads of precum forming at his tip. He whispered a small ‘sorry’ before climbing on top of you again.

At least the two of you were going to be together.