#focal speakers

[akinternational]

A step-by-step guide to optimizing your home theatre system for the best possible experience

A home cinema system can take your entertainment experience to the next level, whether you’re a movie buff, a sports enthusiast, or a gamer. With the right equipment, you can bring the cinema experience into your home, complete with surround sound, crystal-clear images, and comfortable seating.

Setting up a home theatre system can be a fun project, but it’s important to do your research and plan carefully to avoid any costly mistakes. You’ll need to consider factors such as room size, layout, and lighting, as well as your budget and desired level of technical expertise.

In this article, we’ll explore the world of home theatre systems, from the basics of equipment and setup to advanced techniques for achieving the ultimate viewing experience.

The first step is to calibrate your audio and video settings. This involves adjusting the brightness, contrast, color, and other settings on your TV or projector, as well as adjusting the speaker levels to ensure that the audio is balanced and clear.

Next, you should consider the placement of your speakers. Positioning them correctly can make a big difference in how the sound is distributed throughout the room. You may need to experiment with different placements to find the sweet spot. Focal India tower speakers are chic, elegant and doesn’t take much space. With surround sound and crisp quality, it will enhance your movie viewing experience.

Another key factor to consider is the acoustics of your room. Soft furnishings, such as curtains and carpets, can help to absorb sound and reduce echoes. Adding acoustic panels or diffusers can also improve the overall sound quality.

Finally, you should make sure that your equipment is up to date and compatible with the latest technologies. This includes upgrading to a 4K TV or projector, using HDMI cables for better connectivity, and investing in a high-quality soundbar or surround sound system.

If you are looking for the best tower speakers for your home theatre, Focal floor-standing speakers and Naim Audio’s wireless compact speakers are two of the best brands who have made a reputation for themselves in the audio and acoustic industry. Check out their range of products exclusively distributed by AK International.

By following these steps, you can optimize your home theatre system and enjoy a cinema-quality experience in the comfort of your own home.

[fortunehometheatre]

[qubexpro]

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[ilydeku]

teacher izuku has a girlfriend??

Regardless of the joy and spur he expelled towards the students, Izuku knew how to maintain the steady hand of keeping the class under set composure. Nothing but the intent to teach and the will to learn, an equitable relationship between the two—and it was no question. Being the most loved and favored teacher had its perks, and grandiose respect was one of them.

But no matter how mature a student has grown, having fun will always reign somewhere along their focal point. Even if that fun means encouraging their teacher in his love life.

"...-because a good relationship between your teammates makes for optimal communication, conduct, and cooperation," explained Izuku, pointing from one spot on the board to another, well immersed in his lesson. "Now, considering quirk-"

"Speaking of relationships, are you in a relationship, sir?" A student, a frivolous girl, teasingly pipes in sudden interest. Plenty of students amongst the grade claimed a crush on Deku-sensei. Of course they did: he's sweet, very tentative and understanding to all his students individually, and takes his time to really help and engrave the knowledge he possessed for them to become the best future heroes they could be. That, and mostly his physical charms. So wouldn't it be in his best interest to have a girlfriend?

Little did Izuku know that this inquiry marked the beginning of his first uncontrollable havoc.

For a moment, he hesitated, pausing midway on the convoluted diagrams drawn on the whiteboard. A strange question, but he thought nothing much of it. He turned around and crossed his arms, lazily pointing the expo marker to the girl.

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that. Unrelevant, didn't see a hand raised-"

"Aw, but sir!" She draws out, slumping back in her seat. "Are you?"

Some students began to look at each other and exchange a few grins until the room began to slowly increase in volume and erupt into unintelligible chatter.

"Ahem."

The room fell into silence accordingly, but he could clearly read the expression on everyone's faces. The class was still waiting for his answer, the way they stared and leaned over their desks in anticipation. Izuku sighs and turns back to the board.

"...no, I'm not in a relationship. Moving on, the information I've drawn-"

"Really?" The girl cuts in matter of factly with a tilt of her head. "But aren't you and y/n talking??"

A chorus of engrossed 'oohs' echoed across the room and a very subtle, but defined shade of pink dusted his cheeks at the mention of you. He turned around again and attempted to regain composure of the class.

"Everyone settle down-"

"Y/n L/n? Isn't that (hero name)?? I think she's in the top 20's now."

"Yeah! I've seen her drop by the school a couple times during lunch!"

"Now that I think about it, Deku-sensei does have her come in as a guest speaker a lot..."

It was just one after another, the addition of suspicions and theories now bringing the truth to the surface. Izuku swallowed.

A loose black band around Izuku's wrist caught another student's eye and they stood up and pointed in excitement. "Look!! Deku-sensei has hair ties on his wrist!! Hair ties!!"

"Kids, please...-"

"Wow..I've never seen your class this rowdy before, Izuku!!" That voice. His head snapped toward you in surprised, totally flustered about the situation. The entire class went dead silent and turned to you, standing at the entrance of the classroom. You wave at his kids with a smile and stroll over to Izuku's desk, dropping off a bag of some sort. He watches you endearingly.

"You forgot your lunch at home, silly."

"O-Oh did I? Haha, sorry y/n. Thank you. You're on break right now, right?"

The students watched you both like a show, taking in the interaction, the body language, the words. There's no doubt you two were a thing right? Deku-sensei and (hero name)!!

And just then, you confirmed it with simple kiss on his cheek.

"Bye, Izuku! Be nice to the kids, hm?"

"You know I always am!!"

As soon as the classroom door clicked, the class burst into awe.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL US???"

[gudfornuthin]

Unexpected Comfort

Season 4!Diego x fem!reader, (past) Five x reader

! SPOILERS AHEAD !

! MINORS DNI !

Summary: after finding out the news about Lila and Five’s relationship, Y/N needs to get away from it all. Who knew she’d find comfort in the one other person broken too?

Word count: 2.65k words

A/N: ayooo. I wanna thank everyone for the support I received from my Five fanfic, it means the world to me that people read and enjoy my writing. I’m definitely thinking about ideas for a part 2, and I also have some requests I need to complete, but for now this lil thing popped into my head and I had to make it. My sweet Diego deserved so much more. There’s fluff, there’s angst, there’s a lil bit of smut (I’m trying to get better at writing that lol) so I hope you all enjoy. Feedback is always appreciated

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

Those were the words that came out of Five’s mouth before Y/N stormed out of the house, leaving behind the shocked faces of the Hargreeves siblings.

Five had cheated on her. With Lila. Diego’s wife, the mother of his children. She felt like throwing up. They’d created a life together, seeming to forget all about the life they had here, in the real world. Five tried explaining how a few hours to her had been years for him and Lila, but Y/N wasn’t having it. She couldn’t imagine giving up on a relationship she’d spent so long working on, like it meant nothing at all. At least they weren’t married with kids. She doesn’t want to think about how much this is killing Diego.

Having left the house, ignoring the calls from the family, Y/N continued walking for what seemed like hours. She wasn’t familiar with this side of town, and the dark streets all blended together. Had she already gone this way? Was there a bus stop she could seek shelter under for the time being? The night was getting colder and she was finding it hard to catch her breath, the tears still flowing. She knew she couldn’t continue on for much longer.

After walking a few more blocks, Y/N finally spots a bar/diner, the lights still on inside. Better than nothing, she thinks, as she slowly makes her way towards it, in desperate need of a drink.

The diner is quiet, only a few patrons scattered around, either drunk or on the verge of passing out. The bar tender nods in acknowledgment when Y/N sits on one of the bar stools, asking what she wants.

“I’ll just have a beer.”

The bar tender rolls his eyes. “What kinda beer?”

Y/N shrugs. “The cheapest one you’ve got.”

He wonders off to sort out her order, as she rests her head in the palms of her hands, closing her eyes and trying not to sob like a baby. The pain in her chest still lingers, as she can’t escape the images of Five and Lila, and the life they had made together. The life that should’ve been hers. With everything going on, she’d almost forgotten about the world ending, again. But that was surprisingly the least of her worries at the moment. She just wanted to scream, and punch and kick anything that got in her way. She needed a cigarette. And she doesn’t even smoke.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

A voice sounds off to the side of Y/N, as she slowly opens her eyes. A beer bottle stands in front of her, and she turns to her left, spotting Diego in the seat next to hers. He looks worse for wear. Red eyes, prominent frown lines, and a pouty lip.

“You look like a kicked puppy,” Y/N mumbles, not knowing what else to say.

“Yeah, I wonder why,” Diego replies in a gruff voice, grabbing for her beer and taking a swig.

The pair go quiet, listening to the soft tune playing through the overhead speakers, dwelling in their own thoughts. The two of them had never exactly been close. Since Y/N joined the family she’d always gravitated more towards Klaus and Alison. Frankly, she didn’t understand why Diego was here with her. Maybe because they were both dealing with the same situation, with both their partners being the main focal point. Or maybe he was just in desperate need for a drink too, as shown when he downs the rest of the bottle. Y/N alerts the bar tender, putting up two fingers to ask for a second round. Hopefully she can actually have some this time.

“Was I a bad husband?” Diego finally speaks up, breaking the somewhat awkward silence.

Y/N glances his way, unsure of how to respond.

She clears her throat. “I dunno if I’m the right person to answer that,” she scratches at the label on the beer bottle. “But from what I saw, you were pretty good at it.”

He doesn’t say anything, so she continues. “And you’re also a good dad. I can’t imagine how hard it was, going from one apocalypse to another, to just living a normal life. Pretending none of it ever happened. You didn’t let that get in the way of taking care of your kids. They know you’re a good dad.”

She notices the tears forming in Diego’s eyes and looks away, knowing he wouldn’t want others to see him cry. She sips her drink, the burning sensation hitting the back of her throat.

“For what it’s worth,” Diego starts, “you’re not a bad girlfriend.”

“I never thought I was,” Y/N bites back, her tone harsher than she wanted it to be. “But what are you supposed to think when the love of your life admits to having an affair?” She laughs bitterly. “With his fucking sister in law!”

“Hey, you’re preaching to the choir here,” Diego says, rubbing incessantly at his eyes. “Just tryna make you feel better.”

“Well you didn’t.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

They bask in silence again, both too stubborn to apologise for snapping at each other. They know neither of them are in the wrong. But the wounds are still fresh, and it doesn’t seem like they’ll heal anytime soon.

Almost an hour passes, along with 9 or 10 bottles of beer between them, when the bartender finally tells them it’s closing time. They both get out of their seats, leaving the bar and standing awkwardly outside in the cold, Y/N shivering having left the house without a coat.

“You cold?” Diego dumbly asks.

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Well done, Sherlock.”

Diego looks as if he’s about to say something in retort, but chooses not to. Instead, he silently slips off his jacket, handing it over to her, insisting she takes it before she can refuse. She does so, mumbling a quiet ‘thank you’. They continue standing outside the bar, watching the occasional car drive past, lighting them up every so often.

“I can’t go back there,” Y/N says. “Not yet anyways.”

It was a stupid thing to think that this could all be avoided. She’d eventually have to face Five properly, let him explain fully what happened during that time he was away. But she couldn’t. She doesn’t want an explanation, or an excuse. She just wants it erased from her memory. To forget about it all. To forget about Five.

Diego puts his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, I’m not in the mood to figure out that shit show tonight.”

He pauses for a beat, then briefly glances at Y/N. “There’s a motel not too far from here. We can grab a couple of rooms, take the time to get some rest, and figure all this out tomorrow.”

She doesn’t say anything, simply nodding in agreement, and following Diego to their accommodation for the night.

***

The pair arrive at the dingy looking motel, booking two rooms next to each other, and muttering quick goodnights. Y/N can feel the exhaustion taking over, as she sits down on the bed, and yet the thought of falling asleep makes her anxious. She can’t remember the last time she went to bed alone. It was always Five right by her side, comforting her if she had any nightmares. Which had become more and more frequent the past few weeks.

She tries distracting herself by turning on the tv, flicking through empty channels and purposely avoiding the news. She takes a shower, scrubbing off the physical and metaphorical grime. It helps her feel slightly better, but still she’s wide awake. She walks laps around the room, which isn’t much considering the bed takes up most of the space. And yet she still can’t sleep.

Her mind wanders to the man in the room next to hers. Is Diego having the same issues as she is? Or has he completely worn himself out to the point of passing out for the next several hours. Is it too forward if she goes over there and asks to stay with him for the night? He could end up giving her a weird look and slamming the door in her face. Or he could see a woman, sad and distressed, and know she’s just in need of someone to comfort her. The risk is worth the reward.

Y/N leaves her room, stumbling slightly over her own feet, the alcohol starting to take effect. She steadies herself, standing in front of Diego’s door and knocking. It takes a moment, but he finally opens, shirtless and hair a mess.

“What’s up?” He says, his voice gruff.

Standing in front of him now, Y/N can’t help but feel stupid. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with her problems right now, not when he’s still trying to figure out his own. The only thing on Diego’s mind is most likely Lila, and getting some much needed rest. This was a bad idea.

“Uh,” she shakes her head. “It’s nothing, no. I shouldn’t have disturbed you, I’m sorry.”

She begins to walk away, trying not to fall over, until Diego’s voice calls her name. She turns, seeing him standing half way out of his room, a sad expression on his face.

“Neither of us really wanna be alone right now,” he says, motioning slightly for her to follow him through the door.

She waits a second, unsure if this was the best idea. Now feeling as if they were both about to cross a barrier that neither of them could walk back through.

Taking the plunge, Y/N silently follows Diego into his room, closing the door behind her. She suddenly felt nervous, unsure as to why. Diego is already back in bed, getting comfortable under the covers, ready for a much needed sleep. Y/N looks at the bed, then towards the small couch, not knowing which one she’s welcome on.

“Diego…”

“It’s fine,” he rolls over, not looking at her. “You can build a pillow wall if it’ll make you feel better.”

Y/N nods, not wanting to admit how glad she was that she could sleep next to Diego tonight. She’d feel this way about anyone at the moment, right? It’s got nothing specifically to do with him. Her mind is racing, as she climbs into bed, hoping to fall into a deep slumber as quick as. She doesn’t build a pillow wall.

***

Barely an hour passes before Y/N is woken up suddenly by a sound. She sits up in bed, eyes bleary and watery, looking around the room with squinting eyes. The bathroom light is on, shining through the cracks, and Diego is no longer beside her.

She hears the sound again, a soft whimper, barely audible. It’s coming from the bathroom, and she can already guess who it is. She slowly scoots out of bed, tiptoeing on unsteady feet towards the door, knocking slightly. No answer. And the noise has stopped.

She knocks again, trying the door handle at the same time. It budges, as she gradually pulls it open. The sight was heartbreaking. Diego sits in a curled up ball in the corner, covering his face, and desperately trying to stop his heavy breathing. He doesn’t acknowledge Y/N’s presence, as she moves over to him, crouching down. She gently grabs his hands, pulling them away to see his red, tear stained face.

“I’ve lost everything,” he whispers, breaking Y/N’s heart more than it already was. “I feel like my life’s over.”

Y/N strokes his hands, trying her best to soothe him in anyway that might work.

“I have no purpose without her,” he continues. “I try saving the world, but I couldn’t save the one thing that matters the most to me. I’m useless.”

“That is not true,” Y/N finally replies, hating these thoughts running through Diego’s mind. “Her actions are not a reflection on you.”

Diego begins to protest, but Y/N quickly shuts him down. “I know how much you care. Sometimes I think you care a little too much. But that just proves how good of a husband and father you were. You did nothing wrong. It’s all on her. And Five.”

She chokes out the last part, almost forgetting about her own problems. They’re both going through this, together.

Y/N doesn’t even realise she’s now crying too, holding her hand up to her mouth to muffle the sound of her sobs. Diego reaches out, pulling her into a bone crushing hug, the pair needing comfort from each other more than anything.

She moves her head back slightly, kissing Diego on the forehead, then the cheek, then hesitating at his lips. Her mind feels fuzzy, as the alcohol in her system still lingers, jumping between the pros and cons of what she’s about to do. Diego makes the decision for her.

The kiss is soft at first, his moustache tickling her upper lip, the sensation of it weird but not unpleasant. She wraps her arms around his neck as he puts his hands on both sides of her face, deepening it into a full blown make out session. Y/N opens her mouth, allowing Diego to slip his tongue in, eliciting a quiet moan from her.

Their current position is uncomfortable, as Diego sits pressed up against the sink with Y/N crouched down in front of him. He pushes her back slightly, so they can both stand, never stopping the kiss. The room feels hot, as they walk out of the bathroom and aim for the bed, Diego sitting down on the edge with Y/N straddling his lap. She quickly removes her top and bra, drawing the man’s attention to her breasts. He moves away from her lips, traveling down until he’s eye level with her chest. He takes one in his mouth, sucking harshly, while his hand massages the other.

“Oh fuck,” Y/N sighs, throwing her head back.

She grabs his hair, pulling a fistful of it, forcing Diego to suck harder. She moves her hips back and forth on his crotch, desperately wanting to get out of the rest of her clothes.

As if reading her mind, Diego pulls back, moving them both higher up the bed, quickly removing his pants as Y/N does the same. Now completely nude, the pair become a sweaty mess of body and limbs, wrapping themselves around each other, and making sounds the other occupants in the motel can definitely hear.

Diego’s thrusts are meticulous, as he hooks one of his arms under her leg, pushing in and out, knowing all the right places to make Y/N scream out in ecstasy. He kisses her lips, her neck, her chest and her breasts, not wanting to leave out any part of her. He makes her feel wanted, admired, needed. Like he can’t breathe without her. It feels good. They carry on into the night, and early morning, for a moment all their problems don’t exist anymore.

***

Y/N wakes up first. Her head is pounding, her mouth is dry, and there’s a dull ache between her legs. She grumbles, the memories of last night rushing back to her in an instant. Some good, some bad, and some unforgettable. A small part of her is consumed with guilt, knowing what she did could be seen as hypocritical.

But as Diego’s strong arm wrapped around her waist pulls her closer to his chest, snuggling into her neck, that feeling washes away. In some selfish way, they both needed this. An eye for an eye, as most would say. It’s not going to end well, and she knows they’ll have to eventually deal with the consequences the same way Five and Lila did, but for now, the rest of the world can wait a while. Y/N turns around, moving impossibly closer to Diego, the man who made her feel wanted at a time where she didn’t think she was.

[vampiriito]

Summer was due for another thank you.. (JJ Maybank X shy! kook! reader ) Chapter 6

A/N: Hey loves! valentine's day special hehe ;), we're finally getting something from these two, like.. it was about damn time.

Summary: After JJ ends up spending the night in your bed and in your arms, he promises himself he's not gonna crush on someone as unattainable as you, but the universe has other plans on how his night at the kegger ends.

Maisy was convinced JJ was ignoring you after that night because he was scared of his feelings, that had to be it in the mind of the strawberry blonde. Her voice boomed excitedly through the speaker of your poor phone as you got ready unenthused, gesturing wildly as if she was right there in your room, and not on a facetime call, by the pool and in another city surrounded by other people. You had promised, no—swore that you wouldn't listen to her stupid ideas and advice. Her life was chaotic and her guardian angel probably needed a cigarette after every decision she took.

But here you were, standing awkwardly on the edge of the Boneyard, your eyes scanning the people having fun at the kegger. This kept getting stranger, and quite frankly pathetic for you..

Since JJ had slept over at your house, after the fight with his dad, almost a week ago; you couldn't help but feel like the interaction had been left unfinished in a way. But as you stood there glancing around at the couples and friend groups which were already drunk, despite it being very early, you couldn't help but feel like it was a bad idea. Your fingers were fidgeting with the hem of your sage green satin summer dress, sparing an almost disgusted glance down at the soft fabric adorned with small pink flowers. 'I should've stayed home' you thought, your mind already writhing in social anxiety. He obviously had no interest in talking to you after the whole strange ordeal of waking up in your room and in your arms save for the occasional smile and wave (which was probably from politeness now that you thought about it), so why were you here?

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the sandy beach. The sky was a canvas of swirling purples, pinks, and deep blues, with stars beginning to twinkle as the night settled in. A large bonfire crackled at the center of the gathering, its flames dancing and casting flickering light on the faces of those gathered around. The bonfire was the heart of the event, providing warmth and a focal point for the evening's activities.

Beach blankets and towels were spread out in a semi-circle around the fire, with groups of friends lounging on them, laughing, and sharing stories. Coolers and portable speakers were scattered throughout the area, playing a mix of R&B music and the occasional pop song that added to the lively atmosphere. The sound of waves gently crashing against the shore provided a soothing backdrop to the party, blending harmoniously with the laughter and chatter of the attendees.

A keg, the star of the show, stood prominently near the bonfire, with a line of people waiting to fill their red Solo cups. Surfboards and beach gear were propped up in the sand, and a few adventurous souls took turns riding the waves illuminated by the moonlight. Others played beach volleyball or tossed a frisbee, their silhouettes barely visible in the dim light. The camaraderie was palpable, with everyone enjoying the carefree spirit of the night.

Except for you, of course. How in the hell did Maisy convince you to go to a kegger alone, you didn't know either. Unsolved mystery.

JJ stood a few feet away, with John B and Pope, drinking beers and chatting. His attention was half-focused on their conversation, but his eyes kept flicking towards you, standing awkwardly off to the side of the party. He couldn't help but notice how out of place you looked, your pretty dress standing out among the casual outfits of the Pogues and Kooks alike. If you could even call them that. Most of them were either topless of in bikinis.

His eyes lingered on you for a moment, taking in your nervous fiddling with the hem of your dress, the way you seemed uncomfortable and out of place in the crowded party environment.

But he made no efort to walk up to you too scared and unsure, and you didn't notice him, despite, secretly looking for him. You took small hesitant steps forward, further onto the beach and away from the spot you were in a few moments ago. You hated crowds and cheap beer, so why were you at a kegger? alone too? Cause you were dumb that's why.

You weaved through the crowds and tried not to bump into people as you made you way around the beach mindlessly, no purpose in mind, just trying not to have a panic attack hopefully. Stopping next to a cooler you pried it open, kneeling down next to it to grab a can of... something. You weren't sure what you were drinking here, seltzer maybe? But oh, well. Alcohol is liquid courage.. or confidence, you didn't remember how the saying went. You needed both of those, anyway.

As you knelt down next to the cooler, the fabric of your dress hugging your figure in a way that accentuated your curves, JJ's eyes couldn't help but be drawn to you. He felt a jolt of... something. Attraction, definitely, but also a hint of something else, something inexplicable inside him, a feeling he couldn't quite place. For a moment, he just stared, his mind going blank.

Finally, he snapped out of it, suddenly aware that John B and Pope had stopped their conversation and were now staring at him with curious smirks.

Pope cleared his throat, nudging JJ with an elbow, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Yo, JJ... seeing something you like there?"

John B chuckled, also noticing where JJ's gaze had been fixed. "Looks like our resident flirt has found his next target."

JJ tried to play it cool, rolling his eyes at his friends. He didn't want to admit to them that, yes, he was indeed "seeing something he liked" and that he couldn't tear his gaze away from that "something"

He grumbled, trying to sound nonchalant. "Oh, shut it, man. Just... just checking out the crowd, y'know. That's all."

John B exchanged a knowing look with Pope, before both of them broke out into grins.

"Yeah, sure. Checking out the crowd, my ass. You were eye-fucking her. We're not blind, JJ." Pope chimed in, amused by JJ's denial.

John B added with a smirk, "And who can blame you? She looks good tonight. Like, really good."

JJ felt his cheeks heat up at his friends' teasing. They were right, he was definitely checking you out, ogling at you in that damn dress that kinda looked like a night gown now that he thought about it. He couldn't help it. You looked so different from your usual self, the soft, pretty dress a stark contrast to your usual jeans and oversized hoodies that you wore for skating, your hair usually tied up in a ponytail, now loose and falling past your shoulders in beautiful curls. He swallowed, trying to find an excuse, something to hide how he was really feeling.

"I... it's just... you know who that is, right?"

The guys both nodded, sharing another amused smirk between themselves. John B chimed up first, chuckling. JJ was trying to act nonchalant, but both of them could see how flustered he was. They rarely saw JJ flustered like this, especially over a girl. "That the chick you got stuck in the closet in? The 'mouse' one? You trying to make a move on her or what?"

JJ groaned in frustration, feeling cornered at the annoying barrage of questions and knowing looks from his best friends. He didn't want to admit to them, or even himself, how attracted he was to you that night. He couldn't explain it. Sure, you'd always been cute, in a nerdy, quiet way. But seeing you all dolled up, dressed up in that pretty dress for the first time ever... it was doing things to him. Things that he was trying to desperately ignore since you helped him out that night.

He took a deep breath, trying to regain his usual aloof attitude. "I... I don't know, man. It's not that simple."

Unbeknownst to the conversation that was unfolding about you a few good feet away, you stood up straight, studying the can of alcohol you picked up from the cooler, snapping the lid shut with your foot as you looked at the label. Vodka seltzer it seemed, you shrugged cracking the can open and taking a hesitant first sip. Tastes fine. Fruity and stingy, as all alcohol was but not unpleasant, and definitely not beer. It will have to do, you thought.

JJ watched as you popped open the can and took a sip. He couldn't help but feel a pang of... Concern? Yes, that's what it was. Concern. He knew you rarely drank, and here you were, at a kegger alone with a can of alcohol.

Without thinking twice, he excused himself from his friends, who were still teasing him about you, and pushed through the small crowd of drunk teenagers towards you.

As he approached you, he noticed that you were looking a little overwhelmed, standing alone with the can in your hand, taking small, hesitant sips. He felt a wave of protectiveness wash over him. Despite the rivalry between Pogues and Kooks, he couldn't help but feel the need to make sure you were alright. Not as a pogue talking to a kook but as an acquaintance checking up on a girl alone at a party.

He stopped beside you, giving you a small, casual smile.

"Hey, mouse. You holding up okay?"

When you showed up to the kegger, alone and inevitably too dressed up for the thing you didn't know exactly what you had in mind. Getting black out drunk? Addressing the whole picture in the wallet and sleeping over at your place situation with JJ? You didn't know. The crowd overwhelmed you, and you were slightly uncomfortable from the makeup and the dress.

You turned around at the sound of his voice, your demeanor becoming even more meeker. Great. He actually came up to you. "hi.." you greeted quietly, maybe too quiet given the blaring music around you and the sounds from the teenage crowd floating around both of you. "Yeah 'm holding up.."

JJ leaned closer to you, the loud music in the background making it difficult to hear each other. He could see the unease in your demeanor, the way you fidgeted, the quiet, nervous look in your eyes. It made him feel strangely protective, a feeling he wasn't used to.

He gestured at your drink, attempting a lighthearted tone. "What're you drinking there, mouse? Never pegged you as an alcoholic."

"I'm not sure.." you mumbled, looking down at the can and adjusting your glasses.

JJ chuckled, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"You're not sure? That's dangerous, mouse. You don't know what you're putting in that pretty mouth of yours." The words were out before he could stop them, a little suggestive. He couldn't help it. Especially with the beer he had and the weed he smoked before coming up to you.

'Okay? that was a little suggestive', you thought. You looked down, shifting awkwardly on the sand trying to think of something to say without sounding too flustered or awkward, "it tastes fine.."

JJ watched as you shifted awkwardly, taking another sip from your mystery drink. He smirked, seeing how flustered you were at his little comment.

He took a step closer, his eyes roaming over your face, pausing on your lips, then your eyes, before returning to your lips again. "Yeah? Well, let me taste it."

Before you had the chance to process his words, JJ had already closed the distance between you, taking the can out of your hand and bringing it to his lips, taking a sip. He watched as your eyes widened in surprise, a mixture of shock and shyness.

He handed the can back to you, a cocky smirk on his face. "Mmm... you're right, it does taste fine. What is it, peach seltzer?"

"That's my lip-gloss.." you stated awkwardly, knowing that aside from your drink he had probably tasted your lip gloss stuck on the rim of the can when you took some sips of your own.

JJ's eyebrows raised in surprise, and he let out a soft chuckle at your words. "Your lip-gloss, huh?"

He looked down at your lips, now slightly shiny from the gloss, his gaze lingering. He couldn't help but imagine how it would feel to kiss you right now, tasting the sweet, fruity flavor of the lip gloss on your lips, or the actual drink on your tongue. He cleared his throat. "Well, it tastes better than the drink."

"You should've cleaned the rim.." you suggested awkwardly once again, shifting on your heels, your sneakers digging into the soft sand beneath them.

JJ couldn't help but chuckle again at your comment. You were always so damn cute when you were uncomfortable. He stepped closer, now standing only a few inches away from you. He couldn't resist teasing you a little. "Yeah, guess I should've. But it's a bit late now, isn't it? Guess you'll just have to forgive me."

You looked up at him, shrugging slightly, "it's okay.." you spoke, taking a small step back at the close proximity, despite having slept in the same bed almost a week ago.

He noticed your slight step back, the hint of awkwardness between you both despite the close proximity. He couldn't help but wonder what you were thinking about that night when you had let him stay over at your place.

He smirked, deciding to bring it up, half-joking. "You know, I still haven't thanked you properly for letting me stay over that night."

"You had... you thanked me like 5 times... i think." you answered meekly, "how's your rib?" you pointed vaguely to his side.

He chuckled, amused by your memory of the event. "Mmm, you're right, I did. But maybe I'm due for another 'thank you' tonight."

He lifted his shirt slightly, revealing the now bruised rib (and a sneak peak of his toned abs in the process), the colors of the bruise faded into a pale green. It was almost healed, just a little stiff.

"It's a lot better. Still sore as hell, though."

You nodded knowingly, your eyes studying the fading bruise from behind your glasses, trying not to let your eyes drift to his abs. "Well, I'm glad it wasn't broken.."

He watched as you studied the bruise, your eyes hidden behind the glasses. Despite the casual situation, he felt a strange sense of vulnerability under your gaze. There was something intimate about it, but he quickly brushed it aside. He shrugged, nonchalant as always. "Mhm, me too. I'd have been in for a world of pain if it were. So, don't worry. I'm good as new."

As the silence between you continued, JJ found himself studying your face, the way your glasses framed your eyes, the hint of redness on your cheeks, or the subtle makeup enhancing your soft and pretty features. He suddenly felt the urge to reach out and touch your hair, to see if it was as silky as it looked. But he held back, not wanting to make things even more awkward than they already were.

Instead, he broke the silence, changing the subject. "You know, I still can't believe you're wearing a dress."

You glanced down at the velvety sage green dress flowing gently into the breeze from the ocean, your faded converse dimming down the look of it. You wore dresses, sometimes. When you weren't skating, of course. But this one tonight was Maisy's idea. In your opinion the small pink flowers made it look like a sleeping gown. "it's a bit uncomfortable if I'm being honest.."

JJ raised an eyebrow, taking a moment to appreciate the way the dress hugged your curves and how the soft material swayed with each gentle breeze. You looked absolutely sinful, and he was definitely staring. But in a respectful, neutral kind of way.

"Yeah, it looks a little like a nightdress. Cute, but not really kegger-appropriate." He smirked, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

He took a step closer, the gap between you closing even more. He reached out, gently tugging on the hem of the dress, his fingers grazing your hip.

His voice was low and teasing. "Why'd you dress up so nice for this kegger anyway? Trying to impress someone, mouse?"

"I'm not dressed nicely... it's a summer dress.." you spoke quietly, glancing down at his hand with a subtle questioning look and then back up at his face.

JJ smirked at your quiet response, amused by your denial of the obvious. He tugged on the hem of the dress once more, his fingers still lingering on your hip, the subtle touch sending a shiver down your spine. "Bullshit, mouse. You're practically glowing. You look gorgeous in this. You definitely stand out among the drunk teenagers on this beach."

He tilted his head slightly, locking eyes with you. "So I'm gonna ask you again, why the hell are you wearing a gorgeous, pretty dress at a kegger, hmm?"

His fingers traced a small circle on your hip, the contact causing your heart to race.

"No reason." you shrugged, trying to ignore the fact that he was actually touching you, and questioning you so intensely. What the actual fuck?

JJ raised an eyebrow at your nonchalant response, his fingers still tracing small circles on your hip, his touch light yet electrifying.

He leaned in a little closer, his voice lowering to a huskier tone. "Bullshit again. You don't dress up like this for no reason, mouse. You don't come to a kegger all dolled up for no reason."

"Why do i gotta have a reason?" you asked gently, narrowing your eyes in mild and shy curiosity.

JJ chuckled softly at your question, the innocent curiosity in your eyes endearing to him.

"Because people usually have reasons for doing things, mouse. You don't just dress up and go to a party that's usually full of stoners and drunk people in board shorts and bikinis for fun."

He took another step closer, his chest now almost touching yours. He smirked, his eyes roaming over your body again.

You could tell he was drunk and high, that much was obvious. Maybe that's why he was prying and being so touchy—and the dress was a step up from your usual clothing. Men were really simple creatures it seemed. "I just wanted a small change... besides.. it's a nice summer dress. Perfect for a kegger on the beach.... in the midst of summer." you spoke quietly, your fingers reaching up to adjust your glasses.

JJ chuckled again at your response, appreciating your quiet honesty. He knew damn well that you were still avoiding the truth, but he didn't push it. Not yet, anyway.

He leaned in even closer, his breath hot against your ear. "It is a nice summer dress, I'll give you that... but I think it would look even better on my floor tonight."

Before you could stammer out a flustered response to his obvious and shameless flirting, you were interrupted by a small cough. Your head snapped to the side at the sound, eyes falling onto the source of the voice.

You knew Ben from Maisy. He was one of the few acquaintances you actually didn't mind. You turned to face the boy, giving him a small, polite smile and adjusting your glasses. "Hi, Ben..." you greeted hesitantly, a touch of confusion coloring your tone. It was unusual for him to approach you, especially when Maisy wasn't with you.

JJ groaned internally at the interruption, annoyed that his moment of closeness with you had been cut off by some random guy approaching you. He was waiting for your reply intently. He recognized Ben as one of Maisy's friends and instantly disliked him on principle. He took a step back, his face hardening as he crossed his arms over his chest, watching you interact with the other boy closely.

Ben, on the other hand, was giving JJ a friendly smile, totally oblivious to the underlying tension between the two of you. He was a typical Kook, charming, athletic, sociable, and completely unaware of the world outside his little rich bubble.

He returned your smile, giving you a nod in greeting. "Hey Y/n, I thought that was you! You look great tonight."

"Aw thanks..." you shifted awkwardly at his compliment. You knew Ben from the countless band practices you went to with Maisy when she was hooking up with their guitarist. Ben was on the drums and pretty nice too. Never 'come up to you at a kegger and compliment you' nice, though. Weird.

Ben chuckled, clearly enjoying the shy, flustered look on your face. JJ scowled, silently hating the way this guy was making you blush.

Ben glanced at JJ over your shoulder, noticing the pogue's stern expression. He gave JJ a small nod, acknowledging his presence before returning his attention to you. "You here on your own?"

"Yeah.. um.. Maisy's out of town unfortunately." you stammered nodding.

Ben nodded understandingly, a hint of disappointment on his face. "Ah, that's a shame. I've been meaning to hang out with her more. She's been so busy lately.."

JJ rolled his eyes, wishing these two dorks would hurry up with the small talk so he could have you to himself again.

"Well... it would be awkward since her and Riley broke up. But hey, you can convince him to have us over at another band practice.." you chuckled awkwardly, shaking your head.

Ben let out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Yeah, it has been kind of weird between them... but I guess that's just how it is when you date a bandmate and it doesn't work out."

JJ was starting to lose patience. He was tired of watching you and Ben chat about irrelevant band drama. He decided to intervene, taking a step forward and placing a possessive hand on your hip.

"Hey Ben, sorry to cut this chat short, but I need to talk to mouse alone for a sec." He looked at Ben coldly, almost daring him to object.

Ben looked surprised, clearly not expecting JJ to interject like that. He looked between you and JJ, his friendly expression faltering a bit at JJ's possessive hand on your hip and the way he called you "mouse". "Oh, uh... sure, man. I don't mind."

JJ smirked, satisfied that Ben had taken the hint and backed off. He pulled you a few steps away from Ben, his hand still firmly on your hip.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke, glancing over his shoulder at the retreating form of Ben. "That guy's a total dork, mouse."

"Ben's my friend." you mumbled in confusion side glancing up at him in quiet confusion. "Well, sort of.."

JJ chuckled, the alcohol and weed making his irritation and possessive streak even stronger than usual. "Yeah, yeah... I get that. He's one of Maisy's friends. But he's still a total dork. Do you think he's cute?"

"I dunno... -why does it matter?" you asked, your brows furrowing gently.

JJ shrugged, his grip on your hip tightening slightly. "No reason. I'm just asking." He leaned in closer, his lips practically touching your ear as he spoke again in a low, almost possessive tone.

"You wanna know what I think?"

He didn't wait for you to reply, continuing on "I think that he was all over you tonight. The whole 'you look gorgeous' comment, the 'i've been meaning to hang out with Maisy' line.... what a load of bullshit."

"No he wasn't.. Ben's always nice." You mumbled, grimacing slightly. What was in the air tonight, and why is JJ acting like... whatever he's acting like right now.

JJ rolled his eyes at your naiveté. "Mouse, if you think that dork was just being nice, then you're even more clueless than I thought." He pulled you closer, his hand now on your lower back, almost hugging you against him

He continued speaking, his voice low and rough, his head tilted down close to yours. "He was hitting on you, mouse. That whole 'you look great tonight' and 'I've been wanting to hang out with Maisy more' crap was just an excuse to make himself look good."

"But... why are you so worked up?" you voiced your curiosity without meaning to. You just kept switching between different levels of disbelief, each one more intense than the other. Especially since he was being so touchy-feely.

JJ felt his irritation and possessiveness flare up even more at your question. Why was he so worked up, you ask? "Because I don't like seeing some dickhead kooked up dork drooling over you. It pisses me off."

He tightened his grip on your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you even closer, a bit over the boundary he respected usually.

He leaned in even closer, his lips hovering over your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he spoke. "You're supposed to be hanging out with me tonight, mouse. Not some lame ass Kook with a dumbass haircut and a drum set."

Your brows furrowed, growing more shocked at his actions. What the fuck was happening, like actually? "ah.. okay?" you mustered out. You weren't sure what to do with your hands or how to feel given he was practically clinging to you in the middle of the beach.

JJ smirked at your flustered, shocked reaction. He was enjoying the way he was making you squirm in his hands. He pressed himself against you even more, his chest now fully pressed against yours, his chin resting on your shoulder. He inhaled the scent of your hair, all too familiar with the smell of your shampoo since that night, his fingers tracing small circles on your lower back just above your hips.

He spoke in a low, huskier tone, his lips grazing your ear.

"You smell good, mouse. You look good too. In this goddamn pretty dress and those stupid high tops you always wear... you look so damn pretty tonight."

"What's happening?" you asked, your hands resting on his shoulders hesitantly.

JJ chuckled, amused by your bewildered expression. He liked that he could fluster you so easily. He liked having you close like this, in his arms, all dressed up in a pretty little summer dress.

He pulled you even closer, his hands now fully on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin. "What do you mean 'what's happening'? I'm touching you, mouse. You know... cause I want to."

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your neck. He didn't kiss your neck, though he wanted to, just teased you a bit, enjoying the way your hands clenched around his shoulders in response to his touch. "You like this, don't you? Being close to me... being touched, pretty little mouse?"

"I'm just a little confused that's all..?" you spoke, trying to keep your voice steady, even though you were freaking out inside, close to an asthma attack.

JJ chuckled again, his hands still on your hips, his fingers slowly tracing small circles on your skin through the fabric of the dress.

"What's so confusing, sweet mouse?" He nipped at your earlobe teasingly, then licked a spot on your neck just below it.

He smirked against your skin as he spoke again, his voice rough and full of desire. "You taste good, mouse. You think I should taste you somewhere else, just to see if you taste as good there too? Just to make sure."

Okay something definitely was in the the air tonight. Cause what? did he actually just ask you that? You blinked a couple of times in confusion and flusteredness, your brows furrowing, "what exactly are we talking about?" you asked meekly.

JJ chuckled huskily, loving how you kept letting him fluster you. He leaned back a bit so he could look into your face, his eyes roaming over your flushed cheeks and wide eyes.

He raised an eyebrow, his voice dropping an octave as one of his hands slowly travelled down to the hem of your dress, grazing over the bare skin of your thigh, and making the fabric ride up on your leg just a little bit.

His hand on your hip stayed in place, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin, while the one on your thighs traced higher, slowly pushing up the hem of your dress, causing it to expose more and more of your skin to him as it went.

He leaned in close to your ear, his lips just barely touching your skin as he spoke, his words laced with a hint of desire. "You want me to show you what I mean, pretty little mouse?"

"I think i know.." you mumbled breathlessly, a small nervous smile tugging at your lips as his hand slid under the fabric of your slip dress. This genuinely felt unreal. The same guy who didn't bother sparing a glance in your direction before you got stuck in a closet like a month ago, was... well groping you shamelessly? in the middle of a kegger nonetheless. Same guy who you've been in love with since you were 9. Crazy. Your brain and breathing had trouble keeping up.

JJ chuckled, loving the breathless sound of your voice as he teased his hand farther up your thigh, his fingers tracing the edge of your underwear. He loved the way you looked right now, wearing that cute little dress and your favorite sneakers, with a flushed, flustered expression on your face.

He nibbled on your earlobe again, his breath hot against your skin as he spoke. "Oh yeah? You gonna tell me what you think then, pretty girl?"

His hands continued to roam over your body, one on your hip, the other under your dress. He shifted, pressing his body against yours even more, his chest flush against yours. His breath was now coming in warm, ragged pants, his eyes darkened with desire as he leaned down and started leaving a trail of soft kisses along your neck and shoulder.

"All i know is that.. well... we're still on the beach? I dunno what's happening but.. seems like something that shouldn't be for the public." Yeah no shit dumbass. Whatever he's suggesting is, in fact not public worthy. This is still shocking. His hand was actually under your dress, his face buried in your neck. While you stood there like a scarecrow, unmoving.

JJ chuckled, his breath tickling your neck. He looked up and around at the people dancing and partying around them, realizing you were right. "Yeah... guess you're right about that one, mouse. Wouldn't want anyone to get a show they didn't ask for, huh?"

He smirked, pulling away from your neck, his hand slipping out from under your dress with some reluctance.

He took a step back, putting some space between you. He looked down at you, his eyes roaming over your flushed face and outfit. You looked so damn pretty, and it was driving him nuts. "C'mon, sweet mouse. Let's go somewhere a little more private."

At that point who were you to protest. The guy you've been in love with secretly was basically dragging you away to well... fuck? And that was more than enough instead of some sort of awkward conversation. And it wasn't like you didn't want to. Or thought about it before. You'd be a liar if you said you didn't.

The walk to the chateau from the beach was hurried and frankly too quiet for your liking. Surprisingly. But given you were a bit tipsy, you didn't mind escaping the crowd to be alone with JJ. Especially he seemed more than eager. He was the reason you came to the thing in the first place anyway.

JJ pulled you through the throngs of drunk teenagers and away from the beach, his hand still gripping yours as he navigated the dark streets. He led you towards the Chateau, knowing they could get some privacy there. He wasn’t sure what was going on at this point, but he was too intoxicated and aroused to question it too much. Initially JJ was gonna stay a good distance from you when he first noticed you at the kegger. Wave and shoot you a friendly smile, careful not to push the boundary too much like he did a week ago. But who was he trying to fool here, he was still carrying that picture of you and he found himself checking it when he had the time to throughout the days.

When they reached the house, he led you inside, pulling you into a dark room and closing the door behind them.

He pushed you lightly against the wall, his hands on your hips, trapping you between him and the wall. He looked into your face, his eyes roaming over your flushed face, your messy hair, your pretty little dress.

He spoke in a gruff, huskier voice, his eyes dark with desire. "This better, mouse? You like being alone with me like this?"

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your neck again as he spoke, his hands slowly moving up your sides, slipping under your dress. "You look so pretty in this dress. Such a pretty little thing... all dressed up for me, huh?"

You found your self humming and nodding without realizing, basically melting in his hands as he continued to compliment and touch you shamelessly, completely in disbelief at the situation.

JJ smirked against your skin, loving the way you were practically melting in his hands, responding to his touch so eagerly. He continued to whisper praises against your neck, his lips nipping at the sensitive skin there, his hands roaming under your dress, slowly sliding up your thigh.

"You like being alone with me like this, don't you, sweet mouse? All alone, in a dark room, with me touching you like this?"

He continued to kiss and nip at your neck, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of wet kisses along your skin, moving down towards your collarbone. He pushed the strap of your dress off your shoulder easily, giving himself more access to your skin.

His hands continued to move along your thighs, pushing up the hem of your dress as they went. "You feel so damn good, mouse. So soft and pretty and warm..."

Your hands reached up instinctively, raking through the hair at his nape gently, small quiet sighs escaping your parted lips as you writhed against the wall next to the door. He sounded heavenly, complimenting you and touching you like he couldn't get enough of it.

JJ let out a soft moan as your fingers raked through his hair, the sensation sending shivers down his spine. He pressed himself closer to you, his body pinning you against the wall, trapping you there as he continued to shower your neck and collarbone with kisses and bites. JJ found himself more and more satisfied as writhed and sighed softly, reveling in the way you sounded in the quiet room.

He moved one of his knee between your legs, causing your dress to ride up even more, exposing your inner thigh to him.

He nipped at a sensitive spot on your neck, his teeth gently scraping against the skin, before he spoke in a low, huskier voice, his words coming out as a gruff whisper against your skin.

"You like this, mouse? Like having me pinning you against the wall like this? Having me touching you like this, running my hands all over your skin, just how I've been thinking about?"

Your breathing was ragged your hands still tugging at his hair gently, taking a few moments to catch your breath before speaking, "i.. genuinely didn't expect this to happen." you chuckled breathlessly.

JJ let out another soft moan, loving the way you tugged at his hair. He continued to kiss and bite your neck and collarbone, marking your skin with hickies and pink bite marks as he spoke, his voice gruff and full of desire. "Me neither, mouse. But I'm sure as hell enjoying it though..."

He slid his hands up higher, pulling up your dress, exposing even more of your bare skin to him. He trailed kisses along your bare shoulder, then started to lick and bite his way back up to your neck, his tongue and teeth leaving a trail of bite marks along your skin.

He pushed his knee up against you, pressing his thigh between your legs, letting you feel how hard he was for you already. Which shocked him too, you didn't even kiss him directly and he already was worked up.

At the small pressure between your legs you let out a small almost imperceptible moan, writhing against him and the wall. You didn't know what was more shocking, the fact that he was hard and pressed against you, or the fact that you were doing this in the first place.

JJ felt a small smirk tug at the corners of his lips as he heard the tiny moan that escaped your mouth. He loved the sounds you were making. He loved hearing you talk, and laugh softly at times when he made a dumb joke while making small talk with you out and about.

But JJ realized that he loved the way you were pressed against him, writhing and pushing against his knee as he pinned you to the wall, causing sweet shy moans to escape your lips more than anything.

He nipped at your ear lobe, then whispered gruffly into your ear, his words full of desire and need. "Hear that, mouse? You like having me rubbing against you like this, don't you? You like feeling how hard I am for you?"

He continued to whisper into your ear, his voice rough and full of need and desire as he spoke, his hands grasping at the soft flesh of your hips and thighs, pulling you closer to him.

"Can you feel how hard you're making me, mouse? How much I want you, pretty little mouse?"

You nodded, although he probably couldn't see it, another small strained sound leaving your lips. One of your hands reached up to adjust your glasses, your body feeling like it was on fire, both from his words and actions. The thought that, this was nothing out of the ordinary for him while you were experiencing these things for the first time tugged at your brain, but you were too aroused to care. You might try and talk to him about it after. If you could. For now your hands moved to cup his face gently, cradling his jaw as his thigh continued to press between your legs, causing small jolts of pleasure shoot through your body.

JJ felt his breath catch in his throat as you gently cupped his face, your thumb brushing against his cheek. It was a strangely tender gesture, and it sent a pang of something unreadable through him. Something that had nothing to do with the hard-on pressing insistently on your inner thigh.

He looked into your face, his eyes locking onto yours. Your eyes were wide and full of need and desire, your face flushed and hair messy. He loved the way you looked right now, all flustered and excited because of him.

He leaned his head down, resting his forehead against yours as he spoke in a gruff, husky voice.

"You drive me crazy, pretty little mouse. You know that, don't you? You drive me crazy with those big eyes of yours starin' at me through your glasses, and that innocent, sweet little mouth of yours."

He nipped at your bottom lip, his teeth raking against it before he pulled back to speak again, his voice huskier than before. "How you feel against me like this... it's like you were made for me."

He leaned down again, his lips brushing against your skin, planting soft, gentle kisses along your jaw and neck, continuing to whisper gruffly into your ear. "You're so damn sweet, mouse. So soft and pretty. Makes me want to keep you all to myself."

His hands continued to roam, his fingers tracing your thighs and hips, pulling you closer to him as his thigh pressed between your legs, continuing to cause those jolts of pleasure to shoot through your body. "Maybe i just might.." he added quietly, more to himself than for you.

At the moment you wanted to speak, say some things of yourself but you couldn't. It was like when you got all shy and clammed up flustered, only 10 times worse, or better. He looked even prettier than usual, his hair messy and his face buried into the crook of your neck, the kisses he pressed there gently making you even more aroused. Who would've thought you liked neck kisses? The way his hands were roaming under your soft thin dress was shameless, groping and bunching up the fabric was driving you mad, making you dizzy and like you were in a dream. Maisy would die when hearing about this.

JJ continued to kiss and bite at your neck and collarbone, his teeth and lips nipping at the sensitive skin there. He loved the sounds you were making, the small gasps and moans you couldn't hold back as he touched you, his hands roaming across your thighs and hips. He felt like he could worship your body like this forever, just touching you and kissing you and marking you as his.

He pulled back for a moment, his eyes roaming over your flushed face and messy hair, his voice gruff and full of need.

"You have any idea how pretty you are, mouse? How pretty you look right now, all flushed and messed up like this? It's like you were made for me, all soft and warm and mine..."

He leaned down, his mouth attacking the other side of your neck again, his lips and tongue leaving more kisses and bite marks along your plush skin, his hands continuing to touch and grope at your thighs and body without any actual care for any boundary that might have existed previously. He had enough of those.

Your hands switched between cradling his face and running through his hair, the softness of it making your head even fuzzier. He smelled like cologne and weed mixed with sunscreen and your brain didn't know what to focus on. The feeling of his thigh between your slightly shaky legs? his lips all over your neck and collarbone or the way his hands roamed all over your skin under your dress? You were overwhelmed, in a good way, soft moans escaping your lips without meaning to, slightly shocked that you could make such sounds.

JJ felt his heart thudding in his chest as he heard the soft moans you were making, the sounds making him harder than he ever thought possible. He loved the feel of your fingers in his hair, the way your hands clung to him like you never wanted him to stop touching you.

He pulled back slightly, his lips and teeth leaving your neck with a quiet gasp, his breath ragged as he spoke in a gruff, huskier voice. "God, you sound so damn good, mouse..."

He pulled your hips closer to him, his hands grasping at your body, bunching up the fabric of your dress as he pressed his hard body against you. He could feel you against him, soft and warm and needy, and it was driving him insane. He leaned down, his lips ghosting over your ear as he spoke in a low whisper. "You feel that, pretty mouse? You feel how hard you're making me? I want you so damn bad, I can hardly stand it."

One of your hands trailed down his chest, your touch small and almost shy despite the situation you were in, your fingers brushing against his belt and the skin above it, under his shirt, your eyes darting across his face in the low light of the room.

JJ felt a jolt go through his body as your small, warm hand touched his bare skin, your fingers trailing down his chest and towards his belt. He let out a soft hiss through his teeth, his body reacting to your touch like it was electric.

He couldn't believe how soft and gentle you were being, given the circumstances. It was a sharp contrast to his own rough, demanding touch, and it made his heart thump in his chest. "Careful, mouse," he breathed, his voice huskier than before.

He looked down at you, his eyes dark and full of desire, his hands still clutching at your hips, holding you tight against him. He could feel the heat radiating off your body, the soft, small press of your hip against his, and it was almost too much for him to bear.

"You keep touching me like that, and I'm going to start thinking that you want me," he said, his voice ragged and full of need.

You let out a small breathless chuckle at his words, your hand stilling its movements, your brows furrowed in amusement that was probably overshadowed by your arousal and flusteredness. As if that wasn't obvious.

JJ's eyes darkened even further as he heard your breathless chuckle, his body tensing as he looked down at you, his gaze intense and hungry. He loved the sound of your laugh, even in this situation, and he wanted to hear it again and again and again. Like a song he likes to overplay.

He pulled you even closer to him, his body pressed firmly against yours, his hands still grasping at your hips.

"You think this is funny, mouse? You think it's funny how much I want you right now? How much I need you?"

You shook your head, a small grin tugging at your lips as your eyes stayed locked on his. You were chuckling nervously if anything, your arms wrapping around his neck loosely and gingerly as he pulled you closer, his face inching closer as he pressed you against the wall and between him self.

JJ couldn't take his eyes off yours, your small grin and the way you gingerly wrapped your arms around his neck sending a thrill through his body. He could feel your breath against his skin, the small, shy way you moved, the way you were letting him hold you like this, holding you against the wall like he couldn't bear to let you go.

He leaned in closer, his face inches away from yours, voicing out his curiosity which was mixed with an overwhelming amount of lust.

"Where were you this whole time?"

He was so close to you now, his body pressed flush against yours, his lips mere inches away from your own. He could smell the scent of your skin, a mix of sweetness and musk that was driving him wild. His hands slowly slid down the side of your body, tracing the curves of your waist and hips, his fingers gently caressing the soft fabric of your dress.

"You know what I want, mouse...?" he whispered, his voice husky and full of need. "What I need from you?"

You shook your head, your eyes locking into his as he leaned even close, your breaths mingling and his lips ghosting over yours as he spoke. You were tempted to close the distance for a moment. Before realizing that you didn't even know how to kiss.

JJ's breath hitched as he saw your eyes lock onto his, your breaths mingling with his, so close together that he could feel the heat radiating off your body, and hear the unevenness of your breathing.

He couldn't think straight anymore, his mind full of only one thing, one person, you. He could feel the desire growing within him, the need to be even closer to you, to touch and caress and taste you. Anything you'd let him do.

"Say please," he whispered, his voice a rugged husk against your skin. "I want you to say please to me.."

"Please?" you questioned meekly, finally speaking up after god knows how long of just gasping and moaning softly, your voice wavered and shaky.

JJ let out a small groan as he heard your soft, meek voice say "please," the word ringing in his ears. It was the first time he'd heard you speak in what felt like hours, and he loved the sound of it, your voice soft and wavering.

He could feel his body react to you, the need within him growing even more intense, his heart pounding in his chest. He leaned in even closer, his breath ghosting over your lips as he spoke again, his demand hurried and strained.

"Say it again."

"Please.." you pleaded quietly, questioning tone leaving your shaky voice. You weren't sure what for, your brain too focused on how close his lips were to yours.

JJ felt a jolt of desire run through him as you said "please" again, your soft, shaky voice making him even more desperate for you. He loved the way your body felt pressed against him, the heat between you, the way your voices sounded so close together, how you both sounded out of breath.

"Good girl," he murmured, his breath ghosting over your lips, so close he could kiss you, but he held himself back, wanting to hear you say it one more time.

"Again."

"Are you gonna kiss me?" you wondered out loud, your brows raised. Your body thrummed at the small praise and it was like something in you was unearthed. Praise was something your fuzzy brain liked apparently because you could feel your self grow more aroused. It was a shocking revelation.

JJ felt his heart thump in his chest as he heard your question, your brow raised and a hint of need in your tone.

He could see a new spark in your eyes, as if something had been awakened inside of you, like you were craving his touch, his attention, his praise. And he was more than happy to praise you if it meant he got to do this with you.

"Is that what you want, pretty little mouse? For me to kiss you?" he breathed, his lips hovering millimeters away from yours, taunting you with the closeness.

"I don't know how.." you whispered, your voice wavering gently, your arms still wrapped around his neck for support. You played with the hair at the back of his neck, more out of nervousness than trying to be touchy feely.

JJ felt a wave of tenderness go through him as he heard your soft, wavering voice, his heart swelling in his chest. He hadn't expected you to say that, to admit that you didn't know how to kiss.

His desire for you was still strong, burning in his chest like a flame, but he also felt a sudden urge to be gentle, to go slow and show you how.

"It's okay, mouse. You don't need to know anything," he murmured, his hand brushing against the side of your face.

"Just let me take care of you," he continued, his voice a soft, gruff whisper as he drew even closer, his body pressed against yours, his lips now so close that you could feel his breath against yours.

"It's okay, pretty mouse. Just close your eyes, and let me show you how it's done."

"Don't you find it weird?" you asked meekly even though you knew you were supposed to be silent and not ask irrelevant questions anymore, furrowing your brows and shifting your face gently.

JJ shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours as he spoke softly, his hand still resting against the side of your face, his thumb tracing a gentle path across your skin.

"No, mouse. I don't find it weird. I find it...endearing, actually. The idea that I'll be your first kiss...I've never really thought about a girl not kissing anyone before..."

"But I can't say I'm complaining. I like the idea of being the one to teach you what it's like."

His fingers traced a soft path down your jawline, his touch gentle and unhurried. "Just close your eyes for me, pretty mouse. Trust me, you'll love it."

You let your eyes flutter closed despite how nervous you were. I mean who would've thought that you would actually end up having your first kiss with the boy you liked since, forever basically. Maybe you were a little lucky after all. You tilted your head to the right side, parting your lips in anticipation.

As your eyes fluttered closed, JJ felt a rush of tenderness go through him, almost overwhelmed by how beautiful and innocent you looked in that moment.

He gently brought his thumb to your chin, tilting your head back slightly, his eyes tracing over your face in the low light, taking in every detail.

"Relax, pretty girl," he murmured, his voice impossibly soft, his breath warm against your cheeks. "I've got you."

Then he leaned down, his lips gently pressing against yours.

JJ's heart raced in his chest as he finally kissed you after thinking about it all night and these past weeks. His mouth moved gently against yours, hesitant and tender. He was careful, slow, almost a little unsure, but he wanted you to feel as comfortable as possible, and he knew that your inexperience made this moment all the more special.

He didn't quite know what he had been expecting, but feeling your soft, sweet lips against his was something he hadn't been prepared for, especially since he could taste the peach lip-gloss faintly just like he'd wanted. It was a completely different experience, and he found himself enjoying it more than he ever thought himself capable of.

One of your hands slid to cup the side of his face gently as he kissed you, the feeling so unlike anything you felt but not unpleasant. It was soft and hesitant, a stark contrast from how he was kissing your neck just a few moments ago, and you found your self kissing him back surprisingly with little to no hesitation. Obviously. You'd imagined this countless times before. When watching him in the school halls, laughing with his friends loudly. Or when he'd finish surfing, coming out of the water all sun-kissed and whooping happily.

But none of those day dreams compared to the real thing. To the way you felt while experiencing it and the way he was reacting to the kiss. You didn't take those details in account when daydreaming. You weren't prepared by how gentle he was being or how soft his lips were against your own, his hand sliding down to tangle in the hair on the back of your head, just resting there.

As you responded to his kiss, cupping the side of his face with your small, gentle hand, JJ felt a wave of heat and affection wash over him, surprised and pleased by your willingness to respond. He was used to rough, roughhousing and quick, heated moments with girls he didn't care about, but this was so different, so new and special and tender.

He let out a soft sound against your lips as you kissed him back, his hands sliding down to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

You leaned in as his hands pulled you closer, your back lifting off the wall a little as you kissed him, both of your hands cupping his face now, smiling against his lips at the small sound that left his lips, slightly muffled by your own. God, he sounded even better than you could imagine.

JJ felt his heart thump again in his chest as you leaned into him, your hands gently holding his face, your bodies pressed closer together. The feeling of your lips against his, the way you responded to him, and the small, sweet smile on your face, sent a wave of warmth through him that he didn't quite know what to do with.

He brought one hand to the back of your head once again, his fingers tangling in your hair, gently angling your head so he could kiss you more deeply this time.

He deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with more fervor now that you seemed to get the hang of it, his body pressing closer to you, his other hand shifting until it rested on the small of your back, pulling you even closer to him.

He let out a soft, almost needy sound, his tongue gently tracing the outline of your bottom lip, as if silently asking for permission to go further.

Your lips parted hesitantly, a sound similar to his leaving your lips too, your hands cradling his jaw tugging him a little closer to deepen the kiss yourself.

When your lips parted, JJ felt a jolt of desire go through him, your sound like music to his ears. He took that as permission, and his tongue gently dipped into your mouth, exploring and caressing gently, tasting you with a hunger that surprised even him.

He pulled you even closer, his body flush against yours, his hand in your hair, his other splayed on your lower back, holding you tight against him, never wanting to let go.

The kiss was hot and sweet, JJ's tongue dancing with yours, the taste of you igniting a fire in him that he hadn't expected, the combination of vodka seltzer and peach lip-gloss almost making his knees buckle right then and there. He could feel the heat between you growing, the way your body seemed to fit perfectly against his, as if you were made to be this close, to be in his embrace.

He wanted more, so much more, but he forced himself to hold back, knowing that this was your first kiss, and he didn't want to overwhelm you.

Your fingers clutched at his jaw, instinctively trying bring him more close than he already was, your tongue moving against his a little shyly but eager. For your first kiss it was going great, even better than great actually.

JJ's heart skipped a beat as he felt your fingers clutching at his jaw almost desperately, pulling him even closer, your tongue responding shyly but eagerly against his. He was both surprised and flattered, and the feeling of you wanting more, wanting him, was almost overwhelming.

He felt his body respond to you, his desire for you growing by the second, but he forced himself to reign it in, reminding himself that he needed to take things slow, to be careful with you.

He broke the kiss momentarily, pulling away just enough to catch his breath, his eyes locked on yours.

Your brows raised, your eyes fluttering open and taking a deep breath in pressing your lips together, "that-.. that was great, right?" you asked quietly, one of your hands reaching to adjust your glasses nervously.

JJ couldn't help but smile as you spoke up after the kiss, your voice so soft and shy, your glasses now slightly askew on your face. The way you looked so innocent and unsure, it was endearing, and he found himself feeling even more protective of you.

He brought a hand up to gently push your hair out of your face, his fingers brushing your cheek tenderly as he adjusted your glasses too.

"Yeah, mouse...it was great," he said softly. "You're a natural."

Your lips stretched into a shy grin, your eyes locked onto his lips in awe. They were smudged by your lip gloss and slightly swollen and the sight made you almost dizzy, "yeah..?" you questioned breathlessly.

JJ couldn't help but notice your gaze lingering on his lips, the way you looked at him in awe, and he felt his heart thump in his chest once more. He'd never had a girl look at him quite like that before, like he was something precious, something rare.

He gently ran his thumb over your bottom lip, wiping away the bit of smudged lip gloss. Then he smiled, his eyes never leaving yours as he spoke. "Yeah, pretty mouse. You were amazing."

He leaned in again, gently pressing another soft kiss on your lips, tasting the sweet sweetness of your lip gloss. He couldn't get enough of you, the way you responded to him, the way you looked at him, it was all driving him a little crazy.

He reluctantly pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, letting out a soft exhale.

"You've been holding out on me, mouse," he murmured, his hand still gently against your face, his thumb caressing your cheek.

You were a little disappointed the kiss ended quickly but you were sightly confused by his statement, "what'dya mean?" you asked gently.

JJ chuckled softly at your question, his eyes fixed on yours as he spoke, his thumb still tracing a gentle path on your cheek.

"You're a damn natural at this," he said, his voice a little huskier than before, his lips still barely a breath away from yours. "Never would have thought that was your first kiss..."

"Maybe i just like you.." you chuckled, your grin widening a little at your sudden boldness.

JJ felt his heart thump in his chest as you spoke, the smile on your face making his stomach flutter. The idea that you liked him, that this might not just be a one-time thing, was enough to send a rush of emotions through him.

He pulled you closer to him again, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you tight against him.

"Yeah? You like me, mouse?" he murmured, his mouth hovering just above yours again.

"Yeah.. do you?" you asked still grinning, silently hoping he wouldn't brush off the question and reject you. You didn't know what came over you saying that.

JJ's heart skipped a beat as you asked your question, his arms tightening around you involuntarily, as if the thought of rejecting you was physically painful. In reality, it was.

He'd never felt this way about a girl before, and the idea that you actually liked him, that you might want him as much as he wanted you, was both exciting and terrifying at the same time.

"Yeah, mouse...I like you," he said quietly, his voice gruff, almost vulnerable. How couldn't he?

He leaned in again, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss, his arms holding you tight against him. There was a sense of possessiveness to the way he held you, like he never wanted to let you go.

When he finally broke the kiss, he couldn't help but smile at the look on your face, the way you were looking at him with those big, beautiful eyes of yours. He gently took your chin in his hand, tilting your head back so you were looking up at him.

"But I have to know something,"

"What?" you asked, dazed by his confession and the kiss that followed, not even registering what he said for a moment.

JJ's heart thumped in his chest as he saw how dazed and disoriented you looked, the sight sending a wave of a mixture of affection and satisfaction through him.

He waited until your eyes focused on his, your head still tilted back in his grasp, before he spoke, his voice low and filled with a hint of possessiveness. "You're mine now, right, mouse? You're my girl?"

'Helloooo.. I thought you'd never ask.' you screamed internally. Your brain stopped for a moment and it probably mirrored on your flushed face, "yeah.. no, yeah.." you replied meekly, shock probably evident on your face, even in the dim light of the room you were in.

A hint of a smirk tugged at the corners of JJ's lips as he watched your reaction to his question, the way your brain seemed to short-circuit for a moment, the shock and disbelief on your face. It was honestly adorable, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction.

He chuckled softly, his hand still on your chin, his thumb gently caressing your skin. "You don't sound too sure, mouse...you're not trying to back out already, are you?"

"No. Sorry-.. i was just like shocked for a second there... as if that wasn't obvious, i probably looked like a dumbass. But I'm not unsure, god knows.." you rambled, answering his question and it was like your meek nature dropped for a second as you rambled nervously.

JJ chuckled again, watching as your usually shy and quiet demeanor dropped for a second as you rambled nervously. He'd never seen you this talkative before, and he found it strangely endearing, the way you got so flustered and flustered around him.

He kept his hand lightly under your chin, tilting your head back so your eyes stayed on his as he spoke, his voice a gentle but firm.

"Hey, hey, mouse, calm down," he said softly. "No need to ramble like that. I asked a simple question, and I want a simple answer, that's all."

"Yes... god, fuck-.. no. I'm not backing out." you stuttered, locking eyes with him.

JJ felt a wave of warmth and affection go through him as you finally managed to give him a direct answer, your voice a little flustered and your eyes fixed on his. The way you looked at him, so shy and cute but so sure of yourself at the same time, it was a strange mix of endearing and attractive.

He couldn't help but smile, a hint of possessive satisfaction in his gaze as he spoke.

"That's my girl.. my pretty mouse.."

He didn't wait for a response, instead he captured your lips in a soft but firm kiss, his touch was protective, possessive, and despite the gentleness of his kiss, there was a hint of desperate need in the way he held you against him.

You smiled against the kiss once again, your hands cupping his jaw once again, kissing him back almost instantly, still pressed against the wall and you found your self wondering how his legs didn't give out, because yours would've by now if he wasn't holding you up against the wall like that.

JJ's legs were starting to ache a little from holding you up against the wall, but he didn't care. The way you were kissing him, how your small hands were holding his jaw, how your body fit perfectly against his, he wouldn't let you go even if his legs gave out completely. It was worth it.

His hand on your back gripped a little tighter, pulling you even closer to him, his kisses growing more insistent, more urgent, his tongue gently slipping into your mouth.

The taste of you was addictive, and JJ found himself wanting more, needing more, his mouth moving against yours hungrily as he deepened the kiss, loosing some sense of gentleness. His hand in your hair gently pulled, tilting your head back a little, giving him better access to your neck, his lips and teeth nipping and biting at your skin, exploring the sensitive flesh of your throat.

"So.. this isn't just a one time thing right?" you asked hesitantly, tilting your head back gently, your words punctuated by a small breathless moan.

JJ paused for a moment, feeling your head tilt back against his hand, the sound of your breathless moan sending a jolt of electricity through him. For a moment, he just held you there, his mouth still on your neck, his hand still gripping your hair.

He lifted his head after a moment, his breath hot against your skin, his answer a low, gruff murmur against your ear. "Absolutely not, mouse. You think I'd let you go after one kiss? No way in hell..."

"Ah, okay... good.." your eyes met his in the dim light nodding, "that's good—cause i like you a lot.." you mumbled almost desperately leaning in to ghost your lips over his and then kiss him briefly.

JJ's heart thumped in his chest as you spoke, hearing the desperation in your voice, seeing the need in your eyes. It was such a stark contrast to your usual shy and reserved demeanor, but he found himself loving it. He found himself loving seeing you open up like this, loving the fact you wanted him, just as much as he wanted you.

He caught your lips in a brief, soft kiss, before pulling back just enough to speak, his voice hoarse with desire. "Yeah? How much do you like me, mouse?"

"So much.." you almost whined out, your brows scrunching up slightly. You were gaining confidence rapidly and you weren't sure if it was a bad thing or a good one.

JJ's grip on you tightened slightly as you practically whined out your answer, your voice so soft and needy, it was almost enough to make him lose his mind. Seeing you like this, hearing you like this, it was a side of you he'd never seen before, and God, he loved it.

A small, satisfied smile tugged at his lips as he looked down at you, his hand in your hair gripping just a little tighter. He leaned down, his mouth right next to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "Show me."

You didn't need more encouragement, leaning once again kissing more boldly this time, your hands clutching at his face and moaning softly as your lips met, your hands sliding from his face and into his hair tugging at it in a needy manner. You wanted to make up for all the time you lost pinning from afar, pouring all your affection and feelings into the kiss.

The feeling of you pulling at his hair to kiss—your hands in his hair generally, your moans against his mouth, it was driving JJ absolutely wild. He'd never seen you like this before (not that he had a chance to), so needy and desperate, and it was like a drug, a drug he couldn't get enough of.

He deepened the kiss in response, his mouth moving against yours hungrily, fiercely, his hands sliding down to your hips, pulling you close so your body was flush against his. He'd never wanted someone so much in his life.

As your bodies pressed together, JJ felt his control slipping further and further away, the desire to be a gentleman replaced raw desire. The feeling of you in his arms, your hands in his hair, your body against his, it was all too much, and he found himself struggling to hold back, to keep himself from completely losing control. He pressed you harder against the wall, his body pinning you in place, trapping you between him and the wall, his mouth moving against yours almost brutally, his tongue delving into your mouth with a possessive need.

You matched the pace of his kiss, your fingers almost clawing at his scalp as you kissed him. It was insane, how 3 hours ago roughly you would've never imagined you would be at his friend's house making out with him against the wall—near the door, not even moving to the bed or anything. What was more insane was the fact that you enjoyed kissing JJ so much, and you weren't even shy about it at that point.

You probably should consider yourselves lucky that you were here, in this dark room away from the kegger. Because you probably looked disheveled, your dress bunched up and one of the straps slipped down your shoulder, moaning into his mouth while he pressed you against the wall roughly, positioned between your legs, which were wrapped around his waist loosely. Mind blowing.

JJ was beyond caring about anything besides you at that point. The party, the time, the place, his friends, nothing else mattered except you. The way your body felt against his, the way you were reacting to his kiss, the way you clung to him, it was all he needed in that moment.

He didn't bother to be gentle anymore as he pressed you against the wall, his body pinning you in place, his hands roaming over your body, his mouth devouring yours ruthlessly.

He couldn't get enough of you.

He had no idea how long he held you against the wall like that, his mouth on yours, his body pressed against yours, his hands touching and roaming over you greedily. It could have been minutes or hours, and he wouldn't have cared either way.

Finally, reluctantly, he broke the kiss, pulling back slightly so he could look at you (and breathe), his breathing ragged, his eyes dark with desire. He gently cupped your face in his hand, his fingers tracing softly over your cheek.

When he broke away you took the chance to breathe, seeing as breathing through your nose wasn't enough, panting gently and adjusting your glasses, "That's so-... i wanna do it over and over.." you chuckled breathlessly, your teeth gnawing at your bottom lip.

JJ felt a wave of satisfaction wash over him as he watched you, panting and breathless, the sound of your soft laughter almost making his heart burst in his chest.

He couldn't believe that this was you, the shy and reserved girl he'd always known, the one who barely spoke to a soul, and now here you were, pressed up against a wall, gasping and panting, looking so beautiful it was almost painful. Kissing him nonetheless.

"Yeah? You wanna keep kissing me, mouse?" he said, a small smirk on his face as he watched you gnaw on your lip.

You nodded silently, grinning at him while your eyes darted across his face in awe. If this was what it felt like to have a boyfriend you realized you had been missing out on so many things. But it was worth the wait it seemed, because it was JJ and you wouldn't even be this comfortable doing these things with no one else.

JJ smiled as you nodded, a wave of affection washing over him. He'd never really dated anyone before, but with you, it all just felt so natural, so easy. Just like waking up next you that morning felt. He realized that he was a bit silly for getting scared of the intimacy of that moment. More so while he carried a picture of you in his wallet everywhere he went like a lovesick boyfriend.

He leaned in, gently kissing the side of your neck, his lips trailing down to your shoulder, tasting the bare skin where your dress' strap had slipped down.

"You're so damn beautiful, mouse. All flushed and panting, lookin' like a goddamn mess.."

He pulled back, looking at your disheveled state, your messy hair, your flushed face, the strap of your dress that had slipped down, revealing the skin of your shoulder, and he found himself wanting more. He wanted to see what you looked like completely wrecked, completely undone by him. the thought made his heart thump faster in his chest.

"You know, I can think of a few more things I wanna do with you besides kissing." he said in a low, gruff whisper.

"Like what?" you asked narrowing your eyes, still grinning.

JJ's smile widened as you played coy, your grin and narrowed eyes almost defiant. It was an adorable contrast to the flustered, needy mess you had been just moments before.

He leaned in closer to you, his mouth hovering just above your ear, his voice a soft, seductive murmur.

"Oh, I got a lot of things in mind, mouse. Things that'll make you scream my name, things that'll make you forget your own damn name."

You grimaced teasingly, "that's so corny.." you muttered, chuckling breathlessly. Despite the teasing lilt in your voice, his words were very arousing. Even if in a corny way.

JJ's smirk curled into a wider smile as you teased him, calling him corny. He'd expect no less from you.

He lifted his head, moving his mouth to your ear, his teeth gently nipping at the sensitive skin, as his hand slid up your thigh, lifting up the hem of your dress slightly. "Oh yeah? You want me to be less corny? Or should I show you how corny I can really be?"

His hand continued to slide up your thigh, his fingers slowly moving under your dress, his lips moving from your ear down to your neck, kissing and biting your skin gently, leaving little marks that only the two of you would be able to see. As if he hadn't left blaring red and pink hickies all over your neck already.

He chuckled against your skin, his other hand gripping your hip, pulling you against him firmly. "Or should I just shut up and keep my mouth busy doing something else?"

"I like the last option better.." you smirked, cupping his face once again as he continued to nip at the flesh of your neck, your eyes trained to his lips.

JJ chuckled again, the sound low and rough. He loved how eager you were to be with him, how you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. It was a feeling he'd never experienced before, and it was addictive.

He looked at your eyes, trained on his lips, and he felt a stirring in his gut, a heat pooling within him. Your eyes were practically begging for him to kiss you, and who was he to refuse? He leaned in, his mouth meeting yours in a deep, insistent kiss.

His hand on your hip gripped you tighter, pulling you closer, while his mouth deepened the kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips, delving into your mouth, hungry and insistent. He wanted more, he needed more.

His hand under your dress moved higher, his fingers tracing over your inner thigh, his touch setting off sparks of pleasure that shot through your body as his finger brushed over your clothed core before he moved them away.

His hands moving under your dress more insistently, groping the flesh of your inner thigh. The feeling sent a kind of warmth at the pit of your stomach that you never felt before. You moaned softly into the kiss, your head leaning forward gently deepening the kiss, as if you were afraid he'd pull away.

The sound of your moan sent a jolt through JJ, his blood heating at the sound. Your soft, needy little moan was like music to his ears, and it only made him want you more. He wanted to see what other noises he could coax from you, what other ways he could make you moan and moan and moan.

He deepened the kiss in response, his tongue twining with yours, his hand gripping your thigh a little tighter, his fingers tracing higher, seeking as much of your skin as he could touch.

He broke the kiss, his lips moving to your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive flesh, leaving little marks that would surely be visible later.

His hand moved higher, his fingers brushing against the edge of your underwear once again, feeling the heat and dampness between your legs. "Goddammit, mouse. You're so damn hot, you know that? and so wet.."

No one had referred to you as hot. It was corny to think about but as his fingers brushed higher between your legs you couldn't help but let out a shudder and a small moan, looking at him with a look between amusement and arousal.

JJ's heart thumped faster in his chest at the sight and sound of you, your look a mix of amusement and arousal, your head tilting back slightly as his fingers touched you. It was a sight he wanted to see over and over again, he wanted to make you moan and mewl like that over and over again. Didn't matter when. Taking him from behind? Above him? Under him? In your room? On the beach? JJ wanted to see all of those and then some.

His mouth moved down to your neck, leaving a trail of biting kisses along your skin as his fingers traced over the damp fabric of your underwear.

He could feel how wet and hot you were, and it was sending his mind reeling, his body tight with need, his control slipping further and further away.

He could feel the heat growing between you, could feel it like a physical presence in the room, and it was all he could do to push down the urge to lose himself completely.

His mouth moved to your ear, his breath hot against your skin, his voice a rough, ragged whisper. "Want you so damn bad, mouse. Can't think of anything else but you. Not right now, not for the past weeks."

Your thighs clenched a little, your legs wrapping around his waist tighter, almost shyly as his fingers ghosted over you, rubbing slow circles over your clit. It was dizzying, and a little pathetic to be honest, to shudder just from a few feather light touches, especially when you were probably so turned on he could feel it. You were beyond caring, your breathing heavy and your head thrown back a little.

JJ groaned at the sight of you, your thighs clenching around his waist, your legs wrapped around his body. The way you were responding to his touch, the way you were panting and shuddering, it was driving him crazy.

He pressed himself against you, his hard erection straining against his shorts, pressing against your core. He bit back another moan as he felt your heat against him, his control stretched thin, his mind clouded by the need to be inside you or anything to release the pressure in his lower belly.

He bit back another moan as he felt your heat against him, his control stretched thin, his mind clouded by the need to be closer, to be inside you, to make you scream his name in pleasure.

He pushed you against the wall, his hands gripping your hips, his mouth moving to your ear.

"You have no idea what you do to me, mouse. No idea how bad I want you right now. Gonna give you what you want..."

Your hands gripped at his shoulder gently, your legs pulling his closer rolling your hips hesitantly against his obvious arousal, without realizing. You were still pressed up against the wall so the action was a bit strained but full of need, and your eyes were locked despite feeling so shy you could pass out. The sight of you would probably get a nun to pass out though, all disheveled and letting out sinful sounds, letting him dry hump you. It was unbelievable to you that this was the same person having trouble while ordering food or speaking to the cashier.

JJ's breath hitched in his throat as you pushed against him, your body rolling against his, your need for him clear in every movement you made. It was a sight he'd never imagined seeing from you, the usually quiet, shy girl who was now in his arms, moaning softly, looking at him with a look that was a mix of shyness and desire.

He knew he should stop this, he knew he should pull away before they both did something they might regret.

But he was past the point of caring.

He slammed you back against the wall, his body fitting against yours tightly, like two pieces of a puzzle.

He lifted you up just slightly, his hands grabbing your thighs and pulling your legs around his waist more securely, the move bringing your core against him in a way that made him bite back a moan.

His breath was hot against your neck as he started to speak, his voice strained with need and desperation. "Mouse, you gotta say something, or I'm gonna lose it."

Before you spoke another soft moan left your lips involuntarily, "what... what am i supposed to say?" you asked, your hands still digging into his shoulders, taking small fistfuls of his shirt, your heart beating so loudly that it rang in your ears.

JJ gritted his teeth as you replied, your soft moan and voice driving him closer to the edge, his self-control hanging on by a thread.

He pressed you hard against the wall, his hips grinding against you, making sure you could feel how hard he was, how badly he wanted you. "Say something, anything. Just gotta make sure you want this, mouse. Or I might do something we'll both regret."

"Regret? no.. fuck no." you questioned, another moan leaving your lips as you spoke, "i thought it was obvious i wanted this.." your voice was strained and soft, still shy and a little overwhelmed to speak properly.

Your words, so out of character for you yet so sweet and hot, sent a surge of desire coursing through JJ's body.

He wanted you, wanted you so badly he could barely think straight.

He let out a guttural moan, his hips grinding against you again, his head buried in the crook of your neck, his voice rough and ragged against your skin. "Just making sure... didn't want to assume anything."

He lifted his head, looking at you, his eyes darkened with need and lust, his breathing heavy. He leaned in, his mouth hovering just over yours, his breath hot against your lips.

"Need you, mouse. Need you so damn bad, I don't think I can hold back anymore and be a gentleman."

"What.. what do we do now?" you asked, and regretted it after. It was a stupid question but you were itching to ask it Even if it ruined the mood in the process.

JJ chuckled softly, finding your question adorable and incredibly sexy at the same time. It was the perfect mix of shyness and boldness, completely unexpected from the normally reserved you, and he found he liked it a lot.

He pushed you up against the wall again, his body pressed against yours, his mouth moving to your neck, leaving a trail of soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. Not bites, just tender kisses "We do what we want. Anything and everything we want."

"Yeah but... like, i mean i dunno how this works.. you gotta coach me through or something.." you snorted in amusement at your own words, a bit distracted by the way he was kissing your neck.

JJ's mouth curled into a smirk against your neck as you spoke, the sound of your voice, so soft and vulnerable, mixed with the shyness and eagerness in your words, was like music to his ears.

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours, his voice low and gravelly as he spoke.

"You want me to coach you, huh?"

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, a low, ragged whisper. "I think I can do that."

His hands tightened around your thighs, his fingers gripping you firmly as he held you against the wall, his mouth moving back to your neck, nipping and biting at the sensitive skin.

He gently rocked his hips against you, his jeans rubbing against your core, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure through both of your bodies.

He spoke again, his voice rough and ragged, his breath hot against your ear. "This okay, mouse? Feel good?"

You let out a long hum nodding, the sound mixed with a moan at the feeling of his hips against you, your legs spreading a little, as much as they could while being wrapped around his waist and your back still against the wall.

JJ groaned at the sound of your moan, your body responding to his touch, your legs wrapping around his waist, opening you up to him and the hot friction of his body against yours.

He pressed himself against you, his hips rolling slowly, his erection rubbing against you through the denim of his jeans, the friction making him bite back a moan. "You like that, mouse? You like how it feels when I press against you like this?"

He rocked his hips against you again, his movements slow and deliberate, wanting to memorize every soft, needy little sound you made as he touched you.

His hands moved up, gripping your hips, guiding your body against his, the friction between you both making it harder and harder for him to think straight. "Want more.. want more of those soft, pretty little sounds. Let me hear you moan for me, mouse."

"I need more.." you found yourself speaking between the quiet moans, your expression clearly flustered but very very aroused. Sure you've been turned on before but it seemed to be different when you had another person being turned on by you too. And JJ nonetheless. It was like a dream.

JJ swore loudly as you spoke, your words sending a surge of desire through his body. He loved that sound, your breathless words, the way you were asking for more from him, wanting him as badly as he wanted you.

He grabbed your hips again, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, holding you tightly against him. "Yeah? You need more, mouse? Just tell me what you want, baby, I'll give it to you. Anything you want." he found himself whispering almost desperately, last part coming out as a soft plea. Which he would have been embarrassed about if he wasn't so damn turned on and tipsy on top of it.

"I dunno... what can you give me?" you asked, which frankly sounded better in your head than it did into words "furthest i got was... well fingering?" you spoke hesitantly, feeling unreal that you were uttering these words out loud, "myself of course.."

JJ gritted his teeth as you spoke, your words hitting him straight in the gut, making his cock throb in his jeans.

He groaned softly, his breath hot against your ear, his voice rough and ragged. "Is that so? You never done anything with anyone before?"

"Obviously not.." you chuckled, shifting against him a little, still holding on to his shoulders.

JJ's heart thumped in his chest at the sound of your soft laughter, and he felt a strange mix of desire and protectiveness wash over him. The thought that you had never done anything with anyone else, that you were all his, was both hot and endearing at the same time.

He leaned in, his mouth moving to your neck again, his lips leaving a trail of soft kisses along your skin.

"I like that."

His hands tightened on your hips, his body pressing against yours even more firmly, his need for you growing with each passing second.

He spoke again, his voice low and rough. "That means I get to be your first... your only."

"Yeah.." you hummed, your arms wrapping around his neck pressing your bodies incredibly close.

JJ let out a low groan as you pressed your body against his, your arms wrapping around his neck, the gesture intimate and sweet but also incredibly erotic.

He tilted his head, his mouth moving to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "And I plan on making it unforgettable for you, mouse."

He started to move his hips again, a slow, steady rhythm that sent jolts of pleasure through both of you.

His hands moved slowly down your thighs, his touch gentle as he caressed your skin, wanting to memorize every inch of you, wanting to learn what made your breath hitch and your body shutter against his.

He was careful not to get too carried away, still wanting to make sure you were enjoying this, still wanting to make sure it was okay.

"That's nice.." you whispered, your brain overwhelmed by the feelings coursing through you. You were clinging to him, almost like you were melding into one, and you could feel your head getting fuzzier with lust. It was exhilarating, his smell was surrounding you and you couldn't get enough of how soft his hair was. Your hands were moving through it, raking through the strands slowly, messing it up even more than it already was.

JJ let out a soft moan as you tangled your fingers in his hair, the feeling of your touch sending a shiver down his spine.

He loved the way you held him, the way your body clung to his, your legs wrapped around his waist, your arms around his neck, like you were trying to get as close to him as possible. He shifted his hips a little, changing the angle, his movement rubbing against you in a way that made your breath hitch in your throat.

He could feel the way you shivered and trembled against him as he moved, and it only fueled his desire for you even more.

He leaned in, his mouth moving to your neck again, his lips ghosting over your skin, his breath hot and ragged against your flesh, his mind swimming from your perfume.

"Sound so damn good, mouse. Like music. I want to hear more of those pretty little sounds you make."

"Are.. should we go further?" you asked gently, tilting your head back a little against the wall, the pleasure of grinding was good, but it wasn't enough, especially with your underwear and his jeans still on.

JJ's breath hitched in his throat at your question, the implications of it sending a surge of desire through his body.

He pulled back just a bit, looking at you, his eyes dark with need and lust. "You want to take it further? Are you sure you're ready for that, mouse?"

"I dunno... well yeah I'm ready... but like am i ready?" you asked, hoping he'd catch what you meant.

JJ smiled at your words, his eyes softening a bit as he realized what you were getting at.

He lifted a hand to your chin, gently lifting your head up so you were looking at him, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip softly. "You mean like, are you ready for me?"

You grimaced awkwardly, grinning a little, "yeah.." you chuckled nodding.

JJ chuckled as well, the sound soft and affectionate. It was cute, the way you were being so shy and awkward, especially considering the position you were currently in, legs wrapped around his waist and pushed up against the wall.

He leaned in, his mouth moving to your neck again, leaving soft affectionate kisses along your skin as he spoke. "Don't worry, mouse. I'll take care of you... just tell me if you want me to stop, okay?"

He shifted his weight a little, adjusting his body against yours, his hips grinding against you again, the move more deliberate and direct this time, making sure he was pressed tightly against your core, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through both of you.

You nodded at his words, knowing if you wanted to stop, you would have shied away a long time ago. The movement caused another wave of heat wash through you, another moan escaping your lips, more sweet than the others.

JJ groaned loudly at the sound of your moan, the sweet, plaintive sound making his jeans feel even tighter and more constricting than before. He leaned in, his mouth moving to your ear as he rocked his hips against you, the friction sending sparks through both of your bodies. "You make the prettiest noises, mouse. Can't wait to hear you really let loose."

He shifted his hips again, changing the angle, a low curse falling from his lips as he was able to grind against you even more firmly than before, his jean-clad erection pressed hard against your core.

He lifted his head, looking at you, his eyes glazed with lust and need, his voice ragged and rough as he spoke.

"Feel that, mouse? That's what you do to me… just from hearing those pretty sounds you make.. just from kissing you."

One of your hands slid down his chest from his shoulder, your finger teasing his belt and toying with the belt loop gently, a sudden spark of confidence igniting in you.

JJ's breath hitched as you trailed your hand down his chest and towards his belt, your touch making his heart thump even harder in his chest.

He watched as you toyed with the belt loop, his eyes locking onto your fingers, the sight making his cock twitch in his jeans. "Mouse, what're you doing?"

You shrugged, your eyes watching him intently as one of your hands continued to toy with his belt loop. You suddenly felt more bold, your fingers slowly undoing it. You expression stayed shy and flustered, despite what you were doing, a small smile tugging at your lips.

JJ's breath hitched again as your fingers undid his belt, the unexpected move making his heart thump even harder in his chest. He watched you intently, his eyes dark with lust and need, his body tense with anticipation.

He swallowed hard, trying to maintain his composure despite the way your touch was making him feel.

"M-mouse, you don't have to-"

He broke off as you started to undo his button and zipper, the sound of the zipper being undone sounding loud in the quiet room. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, thump thump thump, like he had just run a marathon. Or seen a ghost. Or fuck it, both.

He was torn between wanting to stop you and wanting to see how far you were willing to go.

He was about to say something, to stop you, to tell you that you didn't have to do this, that he didn't want you to feel pressured into something you weren't ready for.

But then your hand slowly moved to the front of his shorts, palming him through the thin fabric of his boxers, and all words flew out of his mind like a flock of startled birds.

You didn't tug the jeans down, you weren't sure if you could in this position anyway without unwrapping your legs from his waist. But your boldness grew, especially when you got the belt undone with just one hand, undid his zipper and pressed your palm against his boxer clad erection. The touch was slow, not rough or fast, just tentative, your brows raising ever so slightly.

JJ's brain short-circuited. All thoughts, all words, all coherent thought gone. All that was left was the sweet, soft pressure of your hand against him, the slow, hesitant touch, so different from what he was used to, so different from what he expected. It was like electricity flowing through his veins, setting every nerve ending on fire.

He let out a sharp, ragged exhale, his eyelids fluttering shut, his head lolling forward, his forehead resting against your shoulder, almost a little out of desperation.

His breathing was ragged and uneven, his body trembling slightly as he tried to control himself, tried to keep from losing control completely. He felt like his whole world had narrowed down to just that one spot where your hand was pressed against him, the touch sending waves of pleasure through his entire body.

He didn't dare move, didn't dare do or say anything, afraid that any motion or sound would break the spell that you had cast over him.

Unsure of what to do, and frankly a little paralyzed by shyness, your thumb rubbed small hesitant circles, applying just a little pressure where your were holding him, gnawing at your bottom lip as you listened to every breath he took and every sound that left his mouth.

JJ's breath hitched again, sharper and rougher than before, his whole body tensing at the feel of your thumb rubbing against him, the small, hesitant circles sending jolts of pleasure through his body.

He groaned softly, almost like it was against his will, his body pressing helplessly into you.

"Mouse… don't… mmmphh…"

He couldn't form a coherent thought, much less a sentence. All he could do was let out soft, ragged sounds, little moans and groans that escaped his lips without his permission. He was trembling now, his whole body taut with need and desire, every nerve ending on fire under your touch. Which he found to be unusual, given JJ wasn't one to shy away or get this worked up over such soft and tentative touches.

He tried to speak, tried to say something, but all that came out was a strangled moan, his body arching helplessly into you.

You were still pressed against the wall, legs wrapped around his waist and your other arm wrapped around his neck for support. Your hand continued to rub through the fabric of his boxers, your eyes darting down from time to time to watch your own hand in awe.

JJ's body was practically thrumming with tension, his muscles straining to hold himself still, to keep from grinding against you the way he wanted to. He was hanging on by a thread, barely holding it together, his breathing coming in ragged, uneven gasps.

He lifted his head from your shoulder, his eyes locking onto yours, his gaze dark and intense, his eyes almost feral with desire.

"Mouse I... please…"

He sounded almost desperate now, his voice ragged and rough. He tried to pull back a little, to give you a chance to stop this before it went too far, but his body seemed to have a will of its own, his hips pressing against you involuntarily, seeking more friction, more contact, more of you.

He was struggling to speak, his words coming out in broken gasps. "Mouse, if you…. If you keep… mmmph… touching me like that…"

Your brain short circuited at the look of desperation on his face, especially at your shy and soft touch. Your eyes were raking over his face, and you wanted more too but the position you were in was kinda awkward and limiting, glancing over his shoulder at the bed.

JJ could feel your gaze on his face, your eyes raking over his features, and he knew what you were thinking.

He leaned in closer, his mouth moving to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "Mouse... we need to get on the bed..."

He shifted his weight a little, his movements more deliberate now, his muscles flexing as he readjusted his hold on you. He started to take a few steps towards the bed, his hands on your hips, holding you firmly against him, supporting your weight as he moved.

He was careful and gentle as he walked, making sure not to drop or hurt you as he moved across the room. He didn't want to break the moment by being clumsy.

He reached the bed and gently laid you down on the mattress, his body covering yours, his arms on either side of you, holding himself up so as not to put his full weight on you.

He looked down at you, his gaze roaming over your face, taking in every feature, every freckle, every little detail. You looked so sweet and innocent like this, lying under him on the bed, your hair fanning out around you like a halo.

He was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath, his heart hammering in his chest like it was trying to break out of his ribcage.

As he set you down on the bed your body relaxed, reaching up to take off your glasses gently and set them down on the nightstand near the bed, your hands then cupping his face. He looked so pretty all flushed and looking down at you with his hair all messy and draping down too as he leaned over you.

JJ's eyes darkened further at the feel of your hands on his face, your touch so gentle and soft. Nobody had ever looked at him the way you were looking at him now, like he was something precious, something special.

"Mouse..."

He leaned down, his body pressing against yours, his mouth moving to your neck, his lips brushing over your sensitive skin, leaving soft, tender kisses along the curve of your shoulder.

"What JJ?" you asked quietly, a small chuckle leaving your lips as he slid the straps of your summer dress gently to kiss your shoulders and neck, the feeling a little ticklish and arousing you more if that was possible.

"You... mmmph... are so... pretty.."

JJ's words were mumbled against your skin, his mouth making its way up your neck, leaving soft, tender kisses as he went. His hands were moving now, roaming over your body, tracing every curve, every contour, like he was trying to memorize the feel of you.

Your body felt so small and fragile under him, your skin so soft and smooth, and he was being careful not to hurt you, even though his hands were practically aching with the need to touch you everywhere.

He moved lower, his mouth moving down to your collarbone, leaving more kisses there, his lips warm and soft against your skin. He was breathing in your scent, a mixture of vanilla and something sweeter, something he couldn't quite place but that he was quickly becoming addicted to. You smelled like vanilla and strawberries last time he saw you.

His hands moved to the hem of your dress, lifting the fabric slowly, pushing it up over your hips, exposing more and more of your skin to his gaze.

Your stomach fluttered at his muffled compliment, your hands resting into his hair, raking through it almost soothingly as he continued to kiss your neck and shoulders tenderly yet hungrily, his hands lifting your dress little by little.

JJ groaned softly as you ran your hands through his hair, the feeling sending a shiver down his spine. He leaned into the touch, almost like a cat being petted, his body arching into you instinctively.

He pulled back a bit, looking down at the exposed flesh of your stomach, his hands roaming over your skin, tracing over the soft curves of your hips and thighs.

He gently spread your legs, his body settling in between them, his weight pressing down on you, pinning you to the mattress.

He leaned down again, his mouth moving to your stomach, his lips leaving a trail of hot, moist kisses along your skin, slowly making their way lower and lower, his hands pushing your dress up over your hips, exposing more of you to his hungry gaze.

As he spread your legs, settling between them and trailing the reverent kisses down your stomach your breath hitched. It was like your body was already aware of what he was about to do, his hands bunching up the soft sage green material of your slip dress pushing it up. Despite being flustered beyond belief, your eyes were following his every move, your brain focused on the feeling of his lips on your warm skin.

JJ could feel the way your body was reacting to his touch, could feel the way you were arching up into him, seeking more of his touch, more of his attention. It was like your body was begging him to continue, like you were desperate for him to keep going.

He lifted his head, his eyes locking with yours, his expression intense and hungry. He held your gaze for a moment, almost like he was asking for permission, then his head dipped down again, his mouth moving down over your stomach and lower, lower...

His hands found the waistband of your panties, his fingers hooking into the elastic, gently pulling them down, his lips trailing over your hipbone, leaving hot kisses in their wake.

His breathing was ragged now, his body tense with need, but he was still being gentle, still being careful not to move too fast, to move too rough. He wanted to draw this out, to make this special for you both.

Your brows shot up as he pulled your underwear down slowly, your hips raising from the bed a little as if to help him, without even realizing.

JJ smiled at the way your body responded to his touch, the way you lifted your hips to help him, even before you realized you were doing it. It was so damn cute, almost innocent.

He let out a soft chuckle, his fingers still hooked into the elastic of your panties. "Eager, are we?"

He tugged your underwear down the rest of the way, his eyes never leaving yours, watching your face the whole time, taking in every little expression, every little gasp and moan that escaped your lips.

He tossed the scrap of fabric aside and gently parted your legs, his hands tracing up your inner thighs, his touch almost feather light, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

He settled in between your legs and hooked them over his shoulders, his body pressed against you, his chest rising and falling with each deep, ragged breath. He was looking down at you, his eyes roaming over your naked lower body, taking in every detail, every curve, every inch of exposed skin.

He was so close, so close to where you wanted him, but he was still taking his time, still being gentle, still being patient. He was savoring this moment, wanting to commit it to memory.

Your breathing grew more ragged as he leaned down, gnawing at your bottom lip as you gazed at him in anticipation. He looked even more beautiful, between your legs, his hair tickling the inside of your thigh gently as kissed and teased you, your hand darting out to push it out of his face gently and shakily.

When you touched his hair, JJ felt a shiver run through his body, your touch sending jolts of electricity through his veins. He leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment, before looking back up at you again, his expression almost feral now, his eyes burning with need and desire.

He gently parted your legs a little more, giving himself more room to work with, and gently blew a stream of hot air over the sensitive flesh of your core watching your face intently for a reaction.

The sensation made your legs twitch involuntarily, and a strangled moan escaped your lips before you could stop it. JJ saw the way your body reacted to his touch and a cocky smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Hmm... like that, do you?"

You nodded, your thighs threatening to close around his face for a split moment in nervousness, your teeth still gnawing at your bottom lip. It was insane, how just a small huff of air made you react so.. eagerly. It would've been embarrassing too, if you weren't so turned on.

JJ chuckled softly at your reaction, your legs almost closing around him involuntarily. He could feel the tension in your body, could feel the way you were already so worked up and desperate for him.

"Oh, I see... you're a little needy, aren't you, Mouse?" He leaned down again, his mouth skimming over your slick fold, his tongue darting out to tease you, just barely making contact. He wanted to prolong this for as long as he could, to draw this out as long as he could.

He flattened his tongue against you, slowly licking upwards to brush against your clit, his eyes fluttering shut as he took in the taste of you, his hands tightening on your thighs. God, you tasted so good JJ wasn't sure how long he was gonna be slow and gentle for.

When he applied more pressure you couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips, almost like a whimper. The contact was slow but your body felt it like a strike of lightning, the hand in his hair taking a fistful of it. Your body arched up gently, almost like a twitch, your eyes fluttering closed.

JJ groaned softly as you tugged at his hair, the feeling sending a spark of pain through his body that somehow turned into pleasure, heightening the need that was coursing through him. He wanted more, more of you, more of your little gasps and whimpers. He knew he had you right where he wanted you now, lost in lust and desire, eager and willing and completely under his spell. "so sensitive..."

He pressed a gentle kiss against you, just above your clit, almost like he was teasing you, and when he spoke his voice was thick with need.

"Mouse... tell me... what you want... I'll give you anything... just say it... tell me what you want"

Maisy had told you before how getting eaten out felt. Of course you could only imagine it up until a point, given you never actually experienced the thing. 'The thing is, if the guy doesn't wanna do it, it's just routine for the both of you... but god, Y/n/n if he does...' Maisy told you before. And you understood, somehow in this moment her words made sense because JJ actually seemed to revel into what he was doing.

You tried steady your breathing, opening your eyes to gaze down at him, and the sight alone almost made you finish. He looked like he was the one on the receiving end, not you, his eyes already watching you intently, "just.. keep going that's... that feels good." surprisingly you managed to speak, even praise him a little.

JJ felt a surge of pride at your words, his ego growing even more as you praised him. It was music to his ears, to hear you telling him he was doing well, that he was making you feel good. He smirked, knowing that he had you right where he wanted you now, completely at his mercy.

He chuckled again, his breath warm against your skin as he spoke. "As you wish, sweet thing..."

He lowered his head again, his mouth finding your most sensitive spot once more. His tongue traced slow, teasing circles around your clit, not quite touching it, but giving you just enough to keep you on edge. His hands were still on your thighs, holding you firmly in place, making sure you couldn't move before JJ leaned in, his tongue flicking out to trace your slit, a low moan escaping him at the taste of your arousal. "Fuck, baby, you taste like fuckin' heaven," he rasped still not over the way you tasted, his grip tightening on your thighs as he dove in, his mouth covering your pussy completely.

Your head tilted back against the pillow once more, your thighs closing around his head a little, small moans leaving your lips with every movement of his tongue, his face buried between your legs. The sight was probably so lustful, that if someone were to walk in they wouldn't even recognize you. Your hand still in his hair, hips arching to meet every movement of his lips or tongue.

JJ's mind reeled as you wrapped your thighs around his head. It was such an intimate gesture, almost possessively keeping him in place, like you were claiming him as yours. The sight would have driven any man wild, but even more so with JJ, who had never in his life ever felt wanted or loved or needed. He'd never in his life felt even remotely treasured, and suddenly here you were, trembling and arching up into him, making these little needy sounds, clutching at him, as if you never wanted to let him go.

It was too much, nearly overloading his brain.

He groaned against your pussy, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your core. He could feel your thighs trembling around his head, your nails digging into his scalp as you gripped his hair tighter. Fuck, he loved how responsive you were, how fuckin' eager for his touch.

He focused his efforts on your clit, sucking and flicking the sensitive bud with the skill of a guy who knew exactly what he was doing. His tongue delved deeper, plunging into your tight heat, fucking you with broad strokes that had your hips bucking against his face.

But JJ wanted more, so much more than that. He slid two fingers knuckle-deep into your dripping cunt, pumping them in and out of your tight heat at a good pace. At the same time, he zeroed in on your clit with laser focus, sucking the sensitive bud between his lips and flicking it with his tongue.

JJ curled his fingers just right, rubbing that special spot deep inside you that made your toes curl and your eyes roll back in your head. "Come on, sweetheart. Give it to me. Wanna hear you scream my fuckin' name as I make you cum harder than you ever have before," he demanded his hot breath washing over your pussy, his fingers pumping faster,

You were already close, your writhing somehow intensifying under his mouth, your body almost arched up in place in pleasure. Your voice drawled out, moans a little higher and more longer now, your legs wrapped around his head and slung over his shoulders loosely.

JJ could feel that you were close, could hear it in your voice, could see it in the way your body was writhing and arching against him. He was loving every second of this, loving the power he had over you, the way he was making you feel. It was addictive, the feeling, and he knew he was hooked for life.

He lifted his head for a moment still pumping his fingers in and out of you, his eyes burning into yours, a smirk on his lips, even as he spoke.

"Are you gonna come for me, Mouse?" His voice was deep and hoarse, almost rough, his lips damp and hair mussed up as he locked eyes with you, watching you intently, waiting for your answer.

Fuck yeah, you thought, the only thing you could manage was a small whimper as you nodded, your brows scrunched up in pleasure, eyes raking over his face as he lifted his head for a moment. God, he was so pretty, and not only because he was eating you out.

JJ smiled at the whimper that came from your lips, his heart swelling with some strange foreign feeling in his chest, a feeling he'd only ever dared to dream of, but never knew how to recognize or understand. It was love and tenderness and something deeper. He ignored it though, he could think about that later, not while he ate you out and finger-fucked you.

When you nodded, JJ let out a low growl, deep in the back of his throat, his eyes boring into yours, his words hoarse and thick with need.

"Good girl..." he said, his free hand tightening on your thigh, his mouth diving back down to give you what you wanted, what you needed. The praise fell easily from his lips, even though he didn't know why he was doing it. It felt right in the moment, and JJ always followed his gut feelings, even if they didn't make sense in retrospect. And in this moment, his gut was telling him to praise you, to make sure you knew how good you were being.

You mewled quietly at his small praise not having much time to think about how it made you feel because he was back to working on you, even more intensely than last time and you knew you were just on the edge. You could feel it in your lower stomach, both of your hands in his hair now. If you weren't so worked up maybe you'd apologize for squeezing him that tightly but in the moment you didn't have it in you. Your moans, although still shy and characteristic to you, were now a little more high pitched, a little less held back.

JJ could feel your arousal coating his chin and dripping down onto the bed under him and it was so hot. The obscene sound of your juices squelching as he pumped his fingers in and out of your tight heat filled the room, mingling with the crude slurps and suckles of his greedy mouth.

"I'm gonna.. I think I'm-.." you panted, your words shaky as they slipped from your parted lips, melting with moans and sighs of pleasure. You looked down at him, brows knitting up in pleasure at the focus etched on his face as he just watched his fingers drive inside you, making eye contact with you before diving in once again.

Eye contact was so hot, especially when he looked like that. And did the things that had your eyes rolling in the back of your head, and your hands grinding his face against you almost desperately. Your thighs were spasming gently, back arching a little as you clamped your legs around his head like a snake encircling its prey.

JJ couldn't care less if you were squeezing his head with your thighs. In fact, he loved it, loved knowing that he was making you feel so good that you couldn't help but cling to him in pleasure. It was the best he'd ever felt in his life, all his senses flooded with you, with the taste and the feel of you round his fingers or the sound of you, completely coming undone for him.

He could feel your walls starting to flutter and clench around his fingers, your body tensing as your orgasm rapidly approached. He gazed up at you with lust-darkened baby blues, a small grin spreading across his face as he watched you come undone above him.

"That's it, baby.. look at me while I make you cum," he murmured softly, his fingers pumping faster, his tongue lashing over your clit with firm strokes. "I wanna see those pretty eyes roll back in your head as I send you fuckin' flyin'."

JJ could feel your thighs trembling violently around his head, your nails digging into his scalp like a woman possessed. He fuckin' loved it, loved the way your body responded to his touch, the way you grinded your soaked cunt against his face like you were fuckin' starved for it.

He felt your body tensing up, on the edge, and then he heard you whining his name in a whimper and that was it for him. It was the sexiest sound he'd ever heard in his life, and he knew he would be replaying that sound in his head on repeat, over and over again.

A few more moments and the pressure in your lower stomach snapped, your body arching up and breathing rattling gently, lips parted in pleasure as you let out a strangled moan, legs wrapped around his head more tightly than before. You tensed for a couple of long seconds, head thrown back in ecstasy as your thighs closed around his head even more tightly, the orgasm washing over you and knocking your breath out of your lungs, your moans almost inaudible.

JJ groaned as you squeezed his head between your thighs, the feeling almost painful and yet somehow pleasing. He didn't mind being squeezed tight, in fact he loved it. It made him feel like he was wanted, like he was desired and treasured and needed, all things he'd never in his life ever felt or experienced before. He pushed down the strange unfamiliar feeling that was beginning to form again in his gut, and instead focused on you, on making you feel good.

He didn't let up, though. No, JJ kept suckin' and lickin' and fingering your spasming cunt, workin' you through each wave of your intense climax. He wanted to draw it out, make it last as fuckin' long as possible. Wanted you to feel this fuckin' incredible every second until you were completely fuckin' spent.

He gave you a few more gentle licks, just enough to ease you down from the high, before lifting his head again, his eyes burning into yours.

He smirked, his tongue darting out and licking his lips, binging his arousal-coated fingers up to his mouth, makin' a show of licking them clean. 

If it would have been humanly possible you would've came a second time as his smirked up at you, licking his lips and fingers in the most sinful and erotic way. Genuinely how was this guy between your legs, instead of sleeping with someone more.. his type? "goodness gracious.." you muttered, your head tilting back on the pillow, one of your hands reaching to rub your face, the other still in his hair, almost limp now. Just like your thighs.

JJ chuckled at the way you spoke, your voice hoarse and shaky as you tried to catch your breath. He was pretty smug, proud of the effect he had on you, smug to know that he had made you feel good. He gently patted your hip, signaling for you to release his head from the grip of your thighs.

He rose up on his elbow, looking at you, his eyes roaming over your face and down to your body. You looked utterly debauched and JJ loved the sight, almost like he'd won some kind of trophy.

He smirked again as he leaned forward, propping himself up above you. His face was just inches from yours, his voice low and rough as he spoke. "Did I do good, sweetheart?"

Did he do good?? it was like you went to heaven and back for a split second there, and he's asking you if he did 'good'. You ascended to the heavens and he was smirking casually down at you like it was the most normal thing, "good..?" was all that you managed to ask, your voice breaking a little full of disbelief.

JJ chuckled at your reaction, his ego swelling even more. The fact that you were so stunned, almost like you were dumbfounded, just from what he did to you, made his chest puff up in pride a little.

He lowered himself down to rest his head on your stomach, his cheek pressing against your skin. He looked up at you from this angle with a smug look on his face. "I'll take that as a yes."

He nuzzled his head against your stomach, almost like a cat, his arms coming up to wrap around your waist, holding you loosely. He was strangely content in this moment, his mind quiet for once, his thoughts not running a mile a minute. Instead, he was focused on purely you, on the way you felt against him, the way you smelled, the way your hands felt on his skin.

As he nuzzled his head against your stomach you took the time to steady your erratic breathing, your hand reaching up to rake through his hair. You were a little in shock, not believing that this had actually happened and that he was actually your boyfriend, "... so you're my boyfriend now right?" you asked after almost a minute of silence, save for your breathing, regretting the hesitant question instantly. He called you his girl, or something along those lines when he was kissing you, but JJ didn't say the word boyfriend and girlfriend.

JJ's heart nearly stopped at your question, at the use of the word 'boyfriend'. For a second he just laid there, his face buried in your stomach, his arms wrapped around your waist. He could feel his stomach clenching with some strange emotion again, his heart beating in his chest, his mind racing with thoughts.

He lifted his head slowly, looking up at you, his eyes searching your face. He wasn't good with emotions, but he felt so strongly for you that the thought of being your boyfriend felt like a lifeline.

For a second you just looked at each other, which scared you mildly, regretting the awkward question more now that you were just staring into his blue and intense eyes silently. You felt your self grimace awkwardly, "sorry.."

JJ shook his head, his arms holding you a little tighter, almost possessively.

"Don't apologize. It was a good question."

He said it quietly, his eyes still fixed on your face, his expression unreadable. His heart was still thumping in his chest, and he still didn't understand the feeling that was rushing through his body, but he knew he should pull himself together and answer your question before you got even more worried.

Your grimace deepened, suddenly feeling awkward at having asked in the first place and making everything strange and quiet. It made a lump form in your throat, your breath rattling a little when you inhaled.

JJ's eyes traced your face, taking in the expression on your face. He could see that you were starting to get uneasy and he didn't like it, he liked you happy and at ease with him, so he decided to speak.

"Mouse..." He said quietly, his voice soft, his fingers tracing small circles on your skin.

"What?" you asked meekly cutting him off gently, your brows furrowing a little as your face melted into a small frown without realizing, thinking you misread his earlier signals.

JJ's chest ached at the sight of your frown, and his hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently grazing your skin. He gazed at you for a moment, his eyes soft, his voice even softer as he spoke.

"Stop frowning like that..."

One of your hands came up to cover your mouth, "sorry.." you apologized again, your eyes darting around the room for a little. 'God now it was all awkward and he'd have to say something out of pity' you thought.

JJ felt a pang in his chest when you covered your mouth. He didn't like that, he didn't want you to be nervous or insecure around him. He wanted you to feel comfortable, safe.

"Hey, hey, look at me..." He said quietly, his hand on your cheek trying to tilt your face to look at him.

You propped your self gently on your elbows, locking eyes with him, "maybe i should go..?" you spoke, the awkward grimace back on your face as you questioned quietly.

JJ's heart dropped at your words. Go? Why would you want to go? No, he didn't want you to go. "No, no, no. You don't have to go." He said quickly, his hand on your cheek moving to tangle in your hair and hold the back of your neck gently.

He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against yours, his body shifting so that he was a little closer to you now.

"I don't want you to go." He murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I didn't mean to ask that.." you murmured, blinking a couple of times as you locked eyes with him, his forehead resting against yours.

JJ's thumb stroked your neck gently, trying to soothe the tension he was feeling rising in your body. "It's okay, you don't have to apologize. I'm glad you asked, I just..."

He trailed off, suddenly feeling shy and sheepish, which was not an emotion JJ Maybank was familiar with at all. He took a deep breath, steadying himself before continuing to speak. "I just want you to be happy, okay? I don't want you to feel like you have to walk on eggshells around me. You can ask anything, say anything, and I won't get mad. I...."

He cut off again, pausing for a moment before forcing the words out.

"I just want you to feel comfortable with me... cause I'm gonna be your boyfriend and all..."

"...You are?" you asked, raising your brows at his words.

JJ rolled his eyes at your disbelief, lifting his head to look at you properly, his arms still wrapped loosely around your waist.

"Did I stutter? Of course I am. Why in the world would I not want to be your boyfriend?" He asked it more rhetorically, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

—♡‧

A/N: When is it my turn, i say as i fall to my knees, when is it my turn to have a blonde munch surfer thank me by giving me head? i enjoyed writing this one though. But here's your valentines gift for being such sweeties to me, hope i did good. And if you find any mistakes or something its like 4 am atm, just don't mind them okay? I wanted to post this as early as possible and so I'm kinda sleepy. Don't forget to comment or leave asks and join the taglist, i love you all, happy valentines!💕

Tag-list*:･ﾟ✧ @cali-888, @bee-43, @jjscoquette, @melsbels-zip, @stanseventeen @imsiriuslyreal

Previous | Next*:･ﾟ✧

[hysteria-things]

how do u think chris would take nudes ?

-🌅

chris takes nudes two different ways. as we all know, he loves a good mirror selfie. these types of photos will be sent to you on snapchat to catch you off guard.

the reflection will show him naked, phone covering his face with his rock-hard erection slapping against his thigh as the focal point. his dick almost looks painful; red and glistening with pre cum. mostly he won’t put any caption, but if he does, it’ll say something along the lines of: come over?

other times he’ll have his hand wrapped around his cock, the photo angled to his lap. this is the type of nudes that will turn into jerk-off videos, which is your favorite.

his thumb circles around his slit while also pumping his fist. you won’t be able to see much except for his dick; loud moans and grunts coming out of the phone speakers. he doesn’t care if anybody’s home — he misses his girl and he wants to show it.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

I was fascinated by this dome home, b/c it looks like someone doesn't know what a dome is, and made a ball. It also has a belvedere, which is usually on a Victorian roof. But, the 1984 Montauk, NY home is surprisingly nice inside. It has 3bds, 2.5ba, and they're asking $2.1M, reduced by $490K.

The large entrance hall fits a baby grand piano with room to spare.

It's an interesting home and like a giant piece of art. Notice the planter on the right is set into a square hole in the floor.

Look at the ceiling. It reminds me of some sort of DaVinci contraption. And, look at the angled wall held up by a column. It's really a work of art. The belvedere looks like the bottom of a hot air balloon.

This is quite nice- speakers on the ceiling aimed at the sofa and two big windows.

The French stove is gorgeous and I would move the table and chair over to make it a focal point.

Surprisingly, the kitchen is huge. Look at the size of it. So many cabinets. The drawback is that it's so spread out, but the actual work triangle is contained in a nook.

Here's Bd. #1- look at the floor. That's a lovely nautical touch.

In Bd. #2 there's another inlaid pattern, but the bed is over it.

Nice shower room.

Bd. #3 seems to be the primary bedroom b/c it has direct access to the bath.

This is unique.

I'm not sure, but this might be the ladder to the belvedere. It folds and fits neatly into the wall like an attic ladder.

Here we are in the belvedere, a roomy observatory with benches and a table for entertaining or a cozy family space. But, wouldn't it make a great art studio?

I'm surprised that the home has a basement. Look at all the paintings, the owner must be an artist.

Outside there's a nice deck with a built-in bench.

The exterior needs some work- replacement shingles and landscaping.

The price is high, b/c this is Montauk, Long Island in NY (in the posh Hamptons). It's near the Montauk Lighthouse and that must be a community pool. It's on the shores of Lake Montauk, but it flows into the Atlantic Ocean.

Montauk is located at the tip of Long Island.

9,583 sq ft lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/54-E-Lake-Dr-Montauk-NY-11954/32653449_zpid/?

[estellan0vella]

The Greatest Fucking Tragedy: L. Mh Lee Minho x fem!reader (College AU)

WC: 14.3K

Content Warnings: Marijuana Use, Depictions of Focal Impaired Awareness Seizures (FIAS), moments of dissociation, and post-seizure disorientation, Drowning/Non-Consensual Submersion, Retaliatory Violence, Threats of Harm, Crude Humour, Background Jilix 

General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist

The Alpha Phi frat house smells like weed and stale beer. It’s a permanent scent, woven into the fabric of the couch cushions and lingering in the wooden floors no matter how many times Seungmin bitches about cleaning. Right now, though, the weed is winning. Thick smoke curls through the dimly lit living room, the cheap LED lights flickering in rhythm with the low hum of music playing from someone's speaker.

Minho is sprawled across the couch, legs spread, shirt discarded somewhere across the room, his grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He takes a slow drag from the bong before passing it to Chan, his eyes heavy-lidded, lips slightly parted. It’s a good high, the kind that makes his limbs sink into the cushions, makes the world feel warm and slow.

Across from him, Felix is perched in Jisung’s lap, and Jisung, the little shit, has both hands shoved down the front of Felix’s sweatpants. Felix barely reacts, eyes glazed over, exhaling smoke through his nose.

“Dude,” Changbin mutters, head lolling to the side as he looks at them. “At least fucking pretend like we’re not all here.”

Felix grins, a lazy, stoned smile. “Nah.”

Jisung laughs, head tipping back against the couch. “You’re just mad because you’re not getting any.”

Changbin flips him off, but it lacks any real heat.

“You know what’s actually pissing me off right now?” Hyunjin announces, draping himself dramatically across the armchair like some Renaissance painting. His long black hair falls into his face, and he exhales, letting the smoke swirl in front of him before looking at Minho. “Minho doesn’t know how to fucking swim.”

There’s a beat of silence before the entire room erupts into laughter.

Minho groans, throwing his head back against the couch. “Oh, fuck off.”

“Wait, wait,” Jeongin gasps between laughs. “You’re telling me you—Lee Minho, who can probably do a backflip off a fucking moving car—can’t even float?”

“Jesus Christ,” Seungmin chokes out. “That’s embarrassing.”

“It’s not embarrassing,” Minho mutters, reaching for the bong again. “I just never fucking learned.”

“It’s embarrassing,” Jisung sings, poking at Felix’s stomach while Felix tries and fails to bat his hands away.

Chan, who’s been silent up until now, takes a hit before leaning forward, elbows on his knees. His short blue hair is messy, and his eyes are half-lidded, but there’s a sharp glint of amusement. “Bro, what happened? Did your parents just decide, ‘Fuck it, let’s let this one drown?’”

Minho exhales slowly, fingers flexing against his knee. “I grew up in Gimpo, dipshit. Not exactly a fucking beach town.”

“That’s bullshit,” Hyunjin interjects, sitting up suddenly. “I’ve seen kids in the middle of fucking Seoul learn to swim.”

“Okay, well, I didn’t, you fucking pretentious art bitch.”

Hyunjin gasps dramatically. “Excuse you, I’m an art history major. Say it with respect.”

“Art bitch,” Minho repeats, deadpan.

“God, that’s pathetic,” Changbin snickers. “Can’t wait to throw your ass into a pool.”

“You wouldn’t fucking dare,” Minho warns, narrowing his eyes.

“Oh, we absolutely would,” Seungmin grins. “Like, imagine the fear in his little rat face.”

“Fucking hilarious,” Jeongin agrees, laughing. “We’ll get some floaties for you, hyung.”

Minho exhales sharply through his nose, looking between them all with narrowed eyes. “Alright, you wanna go there? You wanna play this fucking game?”

Felix hums, head tilting slightly. “Always.”

Minho leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Hyunjin, you pretentious fuck, you spend more time making sad little sketches of broken statues than actually studying for your bullshit major. Jisung, you look like a fucking poodle with that mop on your head, and I hope you choke on Felix’s dick one day and die happy. Felix, your mullet is an actual crime, and I’m gonna shave that shit in your sleep.”

Felix gasps, clutching at his chest. “Rude.”

“Jeongin, your entire wardrobe looks like it came from a thrift store run by blind grandmas, and Seungmin, I hope every client you have in the future fucking sues you into the ground.”

Seungmin just grins. “That’s fair.”

Minho shifts his glare to Changbin. “And you, motherfucker, I hope you trip over your own fucking dumbbells and break both your legs so I never have to hear you talk about leg day again.”

Changbin snorts. “Joke’s on you, I’d just talk about arm day instead.”

Minho exhales sharply, leaning back against the couch. “Fuck all of you.”

Chan chuckles, passing the bong again. “Love you too, dumbass.”

“You know what, though?” Jisung suddenly pipes up, squinting in Hyunjin’s direction. “Hyunjin, you were the dirty bastard that left the used condom in the hallway after banging that Kappa Tau girl.”

A collective groan fills the room, a mix of disgust and exasperation.

“Oh, what the fuck,” Changbin grumbles, shaking his head. “I stepped near that shit, man. You’re fucking nasty.”

Hyunjin, instead of looking remotely ashamed, stretches his arms above his head lazily. “That may be true,” he admits, voice smooth and amused, “however, no one saw me bang that girl.” He smirks at Jisung and Felix. “But we all saw you two going at it on the couch that one time, you dirty exhibitionists.”

Felix, without hesitation, points an accusing finger at Hyunjin and shouts, “Homophobia!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Hyunjin scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You’re just mad because your past sins are being brought to light.”

“It’s not a sin,” Jisung grins, tightening his arms around Felix’s waist. “It’s called being in love, bitch.”

Seungmin, who’s been lazily nursing a beer on the other side of the couch, snorts. “Jisung’s probably fondling Felix’s balls right now.”

Felix smirks. “He is, actually.” He adjusts slightly in Jisung’s lap. “I’ve been at a semi for like twenty minutes.”

Jeongin groans, burying his face in his hands. “Fucking gross.”

“Hey, don’t kink shame,” Felix says with mock offence, raising his brows.

Minho takes a slow drag from the bong before passing it off and exhaling through his nose. “Shame,” he deadpans. “So much shame. We all saw Jisung balls deep in you, Felix.”

Felix just shrugs, completely unbothered. “And? You're all just jealous.”

“We also saw Jisung’s nasty balls,” Hyunjin pipes up with a smirk, “and his surprisingly fat ass.”

Jisung gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. “Excuse you! My ass is none of your concern.”

Hyunjin leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It became my concern the moment I had to witness it in a position I never wanted to see.”

Jisung glares. “Hyunjin, we all saw your used jizzy condom.”

Hyunjin smirks back. “But we all saw your nasty balls.”

Jisung whines, kicking his feet. “I fucking hate you.”

Felix laughs, patting Jisung’s cheek. “Ji, baby, your balls aren’t nasty or else I wouldn’t put them in my mouth.”

A collective groan of disgust echoes through the room.

“Jesus fucking Christ, man,” Chan mutters, rubbing his face. “I’m too high for this conversation.”

Jisung just grins proudly while Hyunjin mock gags. “You’re the most insufferable couple I’ve ever had the misfortune of knowing.”

“You’re the one,” Jisung suddenly snaps back, pointing an accusing finger, “who, instead of using tissues like a normal fucking person, used a sock to clean up after your wank sessions.”

Hyunjin instantly straightens. “Wait, hold the fuck up-”

Jisung steamrolls over him. “And then, like the absolute menace you are, you had the fucking audacity to send me looking for a pair of your socks when you sprained your ankle last semester.”

The room goes dead silent. Then Changbin lets out a wheeze.

“Oh my fucking god,” Seungmin mutters, eyes wide with horror. “No.”

“Yes,” Jisung continues, as if reliving a war story. “Me, being a good fucking friend, went upstairs, searched through your shit, and found your sordid sock of shame.” His voice rises in outrage. “It was hard, Hyunjin. Socks shouldn’t be fucking hard!”

The entire room erupts into chaos. Felix practically falls off Jisung’s lap from laughing so hard, while Jeongin looks seconds away from leaving the house altogether.

“Hyunjin, what the actual fuck?” Chan gasps, leaning away from him.

“You nasty fuck,” Changbin wheezes, shaking his head.

“I’m gonna be sick,” Jeongin mutters.

Minho just smirks, watching the conversation unfold, deeply satisfied that the attention is nowhere near his lack of swimming skills anymore.

Hyunjin groans, running a hand down his face. “Alright, first of all, that was one fucking time-”

Jisung interrupts with a loud, “Bullshit!”

Hyunjin glares. “Second of all, why the fuck were you digging that deep in my stuff?”

“Because I thought I was helping a fucking friend,” Jisung snaps back. “I didn’t think I had to watch out for a biohazard!”

“Fuck you,” Hyunjin mutters.

“I’m gonna get you a box of tissues,” Felix laughs, wiping his eyes. “That was the most disgusting shit I’ve ever heard.”

“You all suck,” Hyunjin huffs, slouching back into the chair.

“Not as much as Felix,” Jisung quips.

Felix beams. “That’s right, baby.”

The argument between Jisung and Hyunjin doesn’t die down. If anything, it escalates, because neither of them knows when to shut the fuck up.

Hyunjin suddenly grins, pointing at Jisung with a newfound spark of mischief in his eyes. “You wanna talk about nasty? You fucking humped one of Felix’s pillows once.”

The entire room explodes with laughter, except for Jisung, who lets out the most inhuman screech imaginable.

Felix, to everyone’s surprise, doesn’t even look offended. Instead, he tilts his head, looking at Jisung fondly. “That’s cute, Ji.”

Jisung glares at Hyunjin, face burning red. “Yeah, well, Hyunjin fucking jerked off while wearing one of Changbin’s hoodies!”

The laughter somehow gets even louder.

Changbin, who had been taking a sip of his drink, immediately chokes. “What the fuck?”

“I fucking knew it!” Seungmin yells.

“I don’t fucking know why you’re all so surprised,” Minho mutters, shaking his head.

Hyunjin throws his hands up defensively. “Okay, first of all, that hoodie was comfy as fuck. Second of all, it’s none of your goddamn business.”

“Oh, it became my business,” Jisung snaps. “Because you’re a fucking weirdo.”

Felix, wiping tears from his eyes, claps his hands together. “Alright, enough talking. Time for physical violence.”

And just like that, all hell breaks loose.

Jisung and Felix immediately launch themselves at Minho, and Jisung shouts, “POWER OF THE GAY BOYFRIENDS!”

Felix follows it up with a very enthusiastic, “YEAH! Like Power Rangers!”

Minho doesn’t have time to roll his eyes before Jisung tries to tackle him, but Minho is faster. Years of football training make it easy for him to dodge, and he grabs Jisung by the waist, flipping him effortlessly over his shoulder and slamming him down onto the couch. Before Jisung can wriggle away, Minho shifts, trapping him between his thighs in a tight grip.

Felix tries to grab Minho from behind, but Chan, who had been minding his own business, too high to care, suddenly gets dragged into the mess when Minho pulls him forward, locking an arm around his neck in a headlock.

“Fucking traitor!” Chan gasps, squirming.

Minho just grins, tightening his hold on both of them. “You little shits thought you could take me?”

Felix, still determined, throws himself forward, trying to grab Minho’s arm. But Minho is faster, he catches Felix mid-motion, wrapping an arm around his neck and securing him in another headlock.

“I got two of you now,” Minho announces, grinning wildly.

Felix flails. “Let me go, you fucking rat bastard!”

Jisung is still trapped between Minho’s thighs, thrashing wildly. “Felix! Betrayal! He got me!”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Jeongin and Seungmin are wrestling like rabid dogs.

“Your fashion sense fucking sucks!” Jeongin yells, trying to shove Seungmin off him.

“Oh yeah?!” Seungmin barks back, gripping Jeongin’s shirt and yanking him down. “At least I don’t look like a thrift store threw up on me!”

“I fucking told you, vintage is in, asshole!”

Changbin and Hyunjin have also somehow ended up grappling with each other. At first, it was just playful shoving, but now Changbin has Hyunjin pinned down, and Hyunjin, breathless, suddenly blurts out, “I’m weirdly into this. Is it because I’m bisexual or submissive?”

Without missing a beat, Minho, who still has both Chan and Felix in a headlock, calls out, “Both.”

Jisung takes advantage of the distraction and bites down on Minho’s thigh. “OW, YOU FUCKING GREMLIN!” Minho yells, immediately releasing his hold on Chan and Felix to shove Jisung off.

Jisung cackles maniacally, rolling off the couch. “FUCKING WORTH IT!”

Chan, now free, immediately lunges at Minho, tackling him. “Payback, bitch!”

Felix joins in, piling on top of them. “GET HIM!”

On the other side of the room, Seungmin has Jeongin in a headlock, Jeongin is still screaming about fashion, Changbin has Hyunjin pinned, and overall, the frat house is complete fucking chaos.

Just another normal night in Alpha Phi.

Minho stands in the frat house kitchen, flipping thinly sliced beef in a pan, the rich scent of soy sauce, garlic, and sesame oil filling the air. His black hair is damp from a quick shower after the royal rumble in the living room, and he’s wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. A cluster of Hello Kitty bandaids is haphazardly slapped onto his thigh, covering the spot where Jisung fucking bit him like a rabid animal. He still doesn’t know where the hell Felix got Hello Kitty bandaids from, but at this point, he’s given up questioning anything in this house.

Just as he’s about to taste a piece of bulgogi straight from the pan, Chan strolls in, looking far too smug for someone who got his ass handed to him in the wrestling match earlier. He props himself up against the counter, arms crossed, watching Minho cook.

“Hey,” Chan starts, casual. Too casual.

Minho narrows his eyes immediately. “What.”

“I have a friend who can teach you how to swim.”

Minho blinks, staring at him. Then, slowly, he reaches over and turns down the heat on the stove before resting his hands on the counter. “You have friends outside of the frat?”

Chan scoffs, shoving at his shoulder. “Obviously, dumbass.”

“I don’t believe you.” Minho smirks, popping a piece of bulgogi into his mouth. “You leave this house for, like, two things. Football and music. That’s it.”

Chan rolls his eyes. “She’s an architecture major. Business minor. She’s the year below us, and she’s on the swim team.”

Minho chews, waiting for him to continue. “And?”

Chan exhales. “She’s kind of anxious. Kind of like Jisung, but where Jisung’s awkward and loud, she’s just quiet, doesn't really speak unless she has something to say.”

Minho hums, tossing the beef in the pan. “Okay.”

Chan leans against the counter. “Go to the college pool tomorrow night. That’s when she’s there. Just explain that you’re like a baby that got tossed into water, and she’ll take pity on you.”

Minho snorts. “Wow. That’s a real confidence boost.”

“She’s nice,” Chan says, ignoring him. “She’ll help.”

Minho raises an eyebrow. “She hot?”

Without hesitation, Chan slaps the back of Minho’s head as hard as he can.

“Fuck!” Minho hisses, rubbing his skull. “What the fuck was that for?”

Chan glares. “You’re such a fucking asshole.”

Minho smirks, rolling his shoulders. “Well? Is she?”

Chan slaps him again, this time across the arm.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Minho mutters, taking a step back. “I’ll just keep asking.”

Chan exhales through his nose, looking like he’s fighting the urge to hit him again. “Objectively, as a straight man? Yes. She’s attractive. But I don’t look at her that way.”

Minho takes another bite of beef, chewing thoughtfully. “Fine. I’ll go and see what she’s about.”

Chan nods, pleased. “Good.”

There’s a beat of silence, just the quiet sound of the stovetop sizzling. Then Chan adds, “Oh, also, she has epilepsy. FIAS.”

Minho’s chewing slows slightly, then he swallows. “Focal impaired awareness seizures, right?” He glances at Chan. “They covered it in my first aid certification course.”

Chan raises his brows, looking impressed. “Yeah.”

Minho shrugs, flipping the last of the beef onto a plate. “Alright.”

Chan watches him carefully. “That’s it?”

Minho scoffs. “What, did you expect me to freak out? ‘Oh no, the girl who’s gonna teach me how to swim has a medical condition, I guess I’ll just drown instead’?”

Chan snorts, shaking his head. “No, but I figured you’d at least have some dumbass question.”

Minho grabs chopsticks and digs into his plate, shrugging again. “Nah. I got it.”

Chan watches him for another second, then claps a hand on his shoulder. “Good. Just don’t be a dick.”

Minho grins, mouth full. “No promises.”

The air inside the college swimming centre is thick with the scent of chlorine, the sound of water lapping against tiled edges echoing through the vast space. Minho walks in, hands in his pockets, boots heavy against the slick flooring. His black top, with open-knit sleeves exposing glimpses of his arms, contrasts against the bright, sterile lights overhead. His black pants, speckled with splatter-paint details, shift slightly as he moves, and the layered silver chains around his neck glint under the fluorescents. The star-shaped pendant catches the light with each step.

His eyes scan the pool, and then he sees you.

You're in the water, moving with eerie precision, muscles cutting through the water like you were born for it. Your blue hair, tied back into a ponytail, gleams under the lights, the two silver strands at the front catching his attention. You’re wearing black yoga shorts and a white T-shirt, slightly translucent from the water, revealing the black swimsuit underneath.

Minho watches as you push off from the shallow end, slipping entirely under the surface. You don’t come up. Not once. He watches, eyebrows raising, as you glide through the water, streamlined, controlled. Your body moves with an effortless fluidity, and he finds himself unable to look away.

By the time you reach the deep end, a full fifty metres later, you finally surface. Not even gasping. Not even fucking struggling. You just exhale sharply, hands sweeping through the water to keep yourself afloat.

What the fuck.

Minho smirks, stepping closer to the edge of the pool. "Hi."

Your head turns towards him as you tread water, eyes sharp and calculating as they land on him. Your expression is calm, blank, like you're not entirely sure what to do with his presence.

He tilts his head slightly. “I’m Minho,” he says, tone easy, casual. “I, uh-” He gestures vaguely. “Need to learn how to swim. Because I’m sick of my asshole friends picking on me for it.” He grins. “It’s my only flaw, really.”

You blink at him.

Undeterred, he continues. “I’m free Wednesdays and Fridays. Whichever works for you. Chan referred me to you, so here I am.”

There’s a beat of silence, the water shifting gently around you. Then, finally, you speak.

"You need some swimming trunks."

Your voice is soft, quiet, but not hesitant. Minho watches the way your lips barely move when you speak, like you're used to making yourself small. He leans forward slightly, smirk deepening. "I can get those."

"Friday nights. Late."

"See you then, mermaid girl," Minho says, stepping back slightly. Then he pauses. "Wait, Chan mentioned FIAS. What happens if that happens in the water?"

You meet his gaze evenly, voice completely flat. "I pray."

Minho snorts. The bluntness catches him off guard, and for the first time, he sees your lips twitch, just barely. It's small, barely a movement, but he sees it.

Interesting.

"See you Friday, then," he says, turning on his heel, already looking forward to whatever the fuck this is going to be.

Minho arrives at the swimming centre late Friday night, the place eerily quiet except for the distant sound of water lapping against the edges of the pool. The fluorescent lights cast a cold, sterile glow over the tiled floors as he steps inside, heading straight for the men’s locker room. He’s dressed in sneakers, sweatpants, and a hoodie, his usual go-to for lazy days, but now, faced with the inevitable, he exhales sharply.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters under his breath, stripping out of his clothes.

He pulls on the black swimming trunks he bought earlier that day, minimalist, simple, no unnecessary designs, because he refuses to wear some ridiculous board shorts with neon patterns like an overexcited tourist. He rolls his shoulders, shakes out his arms, and then, satisfied, steps out of the locker room and into the main pool area.

You’re already there, standing by the edge of the shallow end, your blue hair tied back into a ponytail, the two silver strands in the front catching the light as they sway slightly. You’re wearing the same white T-shirt and blue yoga shorts as before, the fabric damp from where the water has already lapped at the edges.

Minho watches as you drop into the pool effortlessly, slipping beneath the water before resurfacing in the shallow end. The movement is smooth, controlled, as if the water is an extension of you rather than something separate.

Minho, however, is not fucking graceful.

He carefully climbs in, feeling the cold water instantly hit his skin. The chill makes him jolt, and before he can stop himself, his hands fly up to his chest, covering his nipples.

“Oh my!” he exclaims, voice high-pitched in mock horror.

Then he pauses, blinking.

“Fuck,” he snorts, shaking his head. “I sounded like Dorothy Gale.”

Your expression remains neutral, but the slight quirk of your lips does not go unnoticed.

Minho grins. “You’re holding back a laugh.”

“I’m not,” you say, though your voice is softer than before, almost amused.

“Liar,” he hums, letting his hands drop back to the water. “Alright, teach. What’s first?”

Without a word, you grab two inflatable armbands and a bright orange life jacket, stepping forward to hand them to him.

Minho stares at them, unimpressed. “Really?”

“No risk of drowning if you wear those.”

He exhales through his nose, shaking his head, but pulls them on anyway, the plastic squeaking slightly against his arms. The life jacket is a little snug, but he fastens it without complaint, standing in the water looking every bit like a grown-ass man being forced into safety gear like a toddler at the beach.

“This is humiliating,” he mutters.

You don’t comment, simply nodding towards the water. “Lie on your front and kick your legs.”

Minho eyes you suspiciously before doing as instructed. He stretches out, floating on his stomach, and starts kicking. The water splashes aggressively around him, but he doesn’t fucking move.

He pauses. Kicks harder. Still nothing.

You tilt your head slightly, watching the sad display. “Okay. New plan.”

Minho flips onto his back, groaning. “Thank fuck.”

You step closer, extending your hands toward him. “Hold my hands, and then kick your legs. I’ll pull you.”

He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t argue. Instead, he reaches forward, grasping your hands in his own. Your grip is surprisingly strong despite your smaller frame, steady and sure, like you know exactly how to keep control.

Minho lets you guide him, kicking his legs as you gently pull him through the shallow end. It’s not exactly the most dignified moment of his life, but he supposes he has to start somewhere.

“We’ll stick to the shallow end for now,” you say, voice calm and even. “You need to get comfortable in the water.”

Minho watches you as you focus, your movements precise, controlled. Your face is unreadable, but he can tell you’re completely in your element here, unbothered by the water surrounding you.

“You know,” he muses, kicking lightly, “for someone so quiet, you sure take your job as a teacher seriously.”

Your grip on his hands remains steady. “You’d rather I let you drown?”

“Nah,” he grins. “I like the attention.”

"Keep kicking,"

Minho groans as he keeps kicking, his legs starting to ache. “This is fucking tiring,” he complains, gripping your hands tighter as you continue pulling him through the shallow end. The life jacket and armbands are doing most of the work, but still, kicking non-stop is a workout.

You don’t respond, just keep moving, your expression unreadable as always. The water ripples around you both, the fluorescent lights reflecting off the surface. Minho watches the way you move, barely making a sound, like you’ve done this a million times before.

Then, suddenly, you stop.

Minho doesn’t.

“Oof! Fuck,” he grunts as his face smacks directly into your stomach. His fingers clutch yours tighter on instinct, and for a second, he just stays there, processing the fact that he’s literally face-planted into you. He blinks before pulling back slightly.

Your fingers twitch in his grasp. Minho straightens up immediately, expecting some sort of reaction, maybe a shove, a deadpan glare, a snarky comment, but instead, you’re just standing there. Your body is still, eyes unfocused as you stare off into the distance, expression blank.

His brow furrows. “Uh, hello?”

You don’t react. Minho tilts his head. Then, cautiously, he waves one of his hands in front of your face, letting you hold the other. Your fingers twitch again, slight, barely noticeable, but he feels it. 

Then it clicks.

“Oh,” he mutters, realization settling in. “It’s happening, huh?”

You remain frozen, still staring at nothing. Minho watches closely, observing the subtle shifts in your body. Your fingers keep twitching against his palm, and there’s the faintest movement in your lips, like you’re about to say something but never quite get there. He’s seen shit like this before, at least in training videos, but seeing it in person is different.

“Damn,” he murmurs, leaning in slightly. “That’s actually kind of cool.”

He inches closer, curious, watching the way your expression remains eerily blank. He wonders what it feels like, if you’re aware of what’s happening or if it’s just an empty space in your head. He’s about to say something else when you suddenly blink rapidly, your head jerking slightly.

Your eyes focus again and then you yelp when you see a pair of brown eyes inches from your own. Minho barely has time to react before you start toppling back into the water. His hands shoot out, grabbing you by the waist before you go under, keeping you steady. His grip is firm but careful, keeping you upright as you breathe sharply, eyes wide.

“Whoa, easy there, mermaid girl,” he says, smirking slightly. “You good?”

You blink up at him, hands gripping his arms instinctively, body still slightly tense from the abrupt shift. Your lips press together briefly before you nod, adjusting yourself so you're standing properly again.

Minho doesn’t let go immediately, watching you closely, making sure you’re not about to keel over again. Your fingers tighten slightly on his arms before you let go, taking a small step back. “Sorry.”

He snorts. “What the fuck are you apologizing for?”

You just shake your head, as if brushing it off, and Minho narrows his eyes slightly. “Does that happen often?” he asks.

You hesitate, then nod. “Sometimes.”

Minho watches you for a second longer, then finally releases his hold on you, stepping back as well. “Huh.”

You tilt your head slightly. “Huh?”

Minho shrugs. “I dunno. Just thought it’d be more dramatic. Like glowing eyes, speaking in tongues-”

You stare at him.

He grins. “What? I think that’d be cool as fuck.”

Your lips twitch again. Not quite a smile, but something close. Minho notices and he finds himself already looking forward to seeing more of it.

Minho wakes up feeling like absolute fucking death. The moment he tries to move, his muscles scream in protest. His legs? Useless. His arms? Betrayers. His back? Feels like he got hit by a fucking truck. He groans, flopping onto his side, and staring at the ceiling like it personally offended him. He knew swimming was a workout, but this? This feels like he spent all night fighting for his life against a bear and lost.

After several moments of regretting every decision that led to this moment, he decides he needs to get to the kitchen. Food. Coffee. Maybe painkillers. Preferably all three.

Except there’s one problem, his legs don’t work.

With a grunt, he rolls onto his stomach and starts crawling out of his room. The frat house hallway is silent except for the occasional creak of floorboards beneath his weight as he drags himself forward. His limbs feel like jelly, completely useless beneath him.

He pauses, exhales sharply, then keeps going, determined. If he dies, at least let it be in the kitchen where someone will find him before his corpse starts to stink.

Reaching the staircase, Minho stares down at the steps like they personally wronged him. No way he’s walking down those. Not happening. Not when his legs feel like they’re made of fucking pudding. So he sits his ass down on the top step, grips the railing, and starts bum-shuffling his way down like a fucking toddler. Every bounce sends a fresh wave of agony through his body.

Fucking fuck. Fucking swimming. Fucking Chan. Fucking mermaid girl.

By the time he reaches the bottom, he’s out of breath. This is the worst workout of his life, and it’s just existing at this point. He flops onto his back for a second, groaning, before realizing he still has to make it to the kitchen.

So he rolls back onto his stomach and starts crawling again.

This time, he doesn’t even pretend to make it look dignified. He’s just dragging himself forward with his arms, barely using his legs. Like some pathetic fucking soldier crawling through the trenches.

When he finally reaches the kitchen doorway, he gives up. Completely. With a dramatic groan, he sprawls out on the cool tile floor, pressing his face against it, arms and legs splayed out like a crime scene chalk outline. "I'll nap here," he mutters, voice muffled against the floor.

And he means it. If this is how he dies, so be it.

An hour later, the frat house is still mostly silent, everyone either still asleep or too hungover to move. The only sound is the faint hum of the fridge and the occasional creak of the old wooden floors.

Then, Jisung stumbles into the kitchen.

Still half-asleep, he drags his socked feet across the tile, rubbing his face, grumbling something unintelligible under his breath. His hair is a mess, sticking up in every direction, and he looks like he just crawled out of hell.

Which is exactly why he doesn’t see Minho sprawled out like a fucking corpse in the doorway. With absolutely no warning, Jisung’s foot slams down onto Minho’s ribs.

"FUCK!" Minho yells, jolting awake as if he’s just been electrocuted.

Jisung screams too, flailing backwards. "WHO THE FUCK- WHY THE FUCK- WHAT THE FUCK."

Minho groans dramatically, rolling onto his back. “Ji, you fucking dickhead.”

“Me?” Jisung yells, gripping the kitchen counter to keep himself steady. “Why the fuck are you sleeping on the goddamn floor like some fucking Victorian orphan?!”

Minho sighs, cheek still pressed against the cool tile. "Legs don’t work. I’m dead."

Jisung blinks, looking down at him, expression shifting from pure horror to vague amusement. “Wait, for real?”

Minho just groans in response.

Jisung smirks, stretching his arms above his head. “Damn. Sounds like a you problem.”

Minho lets out a long, suffering sigh. “Ji, drag me to the kitchen table.”

Jisung stares at him. “You want me to drag you?”

“Yes. By my ankles. Do it.”

Jisung shrugs. “Alright, bet.”

Without another word, Jisung crouches down, grabs Minho’s ankles, and yanks. Minho grunts as his body scrapes across the tile, arms flopping uselessly at his sides like a fucking ragdoll. The kitchen floor is cold and definitely not clean, but at this point, he has no fucking dignity left.

Jisung keeps dragging him across the room, humming casually, like this is a completely normal morning routine. By the time they reach the table, Minho is done. His pride? Gone. His will to live? Questionable.

Jisung finally stops and hoists Minho up into one of the chairs, grunting as he shoves him into a semi-sitting position. “Jesus, you’re fucking heavy,” Jisung mutters, rubbing his arms.

Minho flops against the table dramatically. “Coffee?”

Jisung leans against the counter, eyeing him. “You want it black or with a side of my dick in it?”

Minho barely lifts his head. “Both.”

Jisung snorts, shaking his head. “You’re fucking disgusting.”

Minho sighs, pressing his cheek against the cool surface of the table. “I love you.”

Jisung rolls his eyes, grabbing the coffee pot. “Yeah, yeah. You’re buying me breakfast, asshole.”

The swimming centre is eerily quiet this late at night, just the low hum of overhead lights and the distant echo of water lapping against the pool’s edges. Minho steps inside, adjusting the collar of his black leather jacket, his boots clicking softly against the tiled floor. Underneath, he’s wearing a simple black top, paired with heavily distressed light-wash jeans that hang loose around his frame. His silver chains clink softly with each movement.

He scans the pool area, expecting to see you standing by the water like last time. Instead, his eyes travel upward and his stomach fucking drops. You’re on the highest diving board.

Minho freezes, every muscle in his body locking up as his palms instantly start to sweat. The fuck are you doing up there? The fuck are you doing up there? His own fear of heights kicks in violently, making his heartbeat hammer in his chest.

Then, before he can even breathe, you leap off.

“Oh, what the fuck-” Minho slaps his hands over his eyes, peeking through his fingers like a horrified child watching a horror movie.

You free-tumble through the air, flipping effortlessly, the movements fluid and controlled like you’re meant to do this, like gravity is just a suggestion. Right before you hit the water, you take perfect form, slicing through the surface with barely a splash.

Minho drops his hands, exhaling sharply, watching as you pop up to the surface like it’s nothing, slicking your hair back casually.

You’re insane.

“I’m gonna go change,” Minho announces, his voice slightly higher than usual.

You just nod. He watches you for a second, still processing the absolute insanity he just witnessed. Then, a thought strikes him. “Is that safe for epilepsy?”

You shrug and Minho stares. “Cool, cool, cool. No doubt, no doubt, no doubt.”

Then he turns on his heel and beelines for the locker room, already questioning every fucking choice that led him to this moment.

Minho steps out of the locker room, now clad only in his black swimming trunks, his skin still chilled from the air-conditioning inside. The moment he emerges, he spots you standing by the pool, waiting, with those fucking armbands and life jacket again.

He stops in his tracks. "You’ve got to be shitting me."

You don’t even blink, just extend them towards him like it’s non-negotiable.

With a long, suffering sigh, Minho stomps over, yanking the armbands onto his arms before grudgingly pulling on the life jacket. It squeaks slightly as he fastens the buckles. He steps into the pool and immediately tenses at the coldness. “Fucking shit, fuck-”

You wait, completely still, just watching as he hisses through his teeth before finally sinking deeper, water lapping at his shoulders.

“This is actual torture. I’m filing a fucking lawsuit.”

You ignore his dramatics. “Okay,” you say evenly, voice calm, “so today, we’re going to get you comfortable with not being able to touch the floor.”

Before Minho can protest, you grab the back of his life vest and start towing him toward the middle of the pool. “Let me go!” he yelps, kicking his legs as if that’s going to help.

You nod. “Okay.”

And then you fucking do.

Minho immediately freezes, his breath catching in his throat as he realizes. He’s just floating. Not touching the ground. No solid surface beneath him. Just water. His muscles tense, but instead of immediately drowning like his instincts scream he’s about to, he just bobs.

Minho blinks.

You’re treading water beside him, effortlessly balanced. “See? You’re fine.”

He exhales, body still stiff, but, yeah. He’s fine. He lets himself bob around for a bit, staring at the ceiling, processing the fact that he hasn’t died yet.

After a few moments, you speak again. "Want to know next week’s lesson?"

Minho glances over warily. “What?”

You meet his gaze, voice neutral. “Getting comfortable being underwater. Fully submerged.”

Minho immediately straightens. “The fuck I am!”

Panic shoots through him as he starts paddling away, pathetically, in what can only be described as the saddest attempt at a doggy paddle ever witnessed. He doesn’t get far. Because you just grab his ankle and tow him back.

“NO!” he yells, flailing. “FUCKING LET ME GO!”

You don’t even struggle, just calmly drag him back toward the centre of the pool like he’s some misbehaving pet. Minho groans in defeat, throwing his head back.

This is actual fucking hell.

Minho storms into the frat house living room and immediately regrets it because Jisung and Felix are making out on the fucking couch. “For fuck’s sake,” Minho groans, marching over. “Do you two ever fucking stop?”

Jisung barely acknowledges him, just waves a lazy hand in Minho’s direction while still attached to Felix’s mouth. Minho scowls. Fuck this. He grabs the back of Jisung’s hoodie and yanks.

“HEY!” Jisung yelps as he gets ripped away from Felix, arms flailing. “WHAT THE FUCK?”

Felix blinks at the sudden loss of contact, lips slightly swollen. “Uh why?”

Minho ignores the way Felix looks two seconds away from pouting. “I need him,” he says simply, already dragging Jisung toward the stairs.

Jisung stumbles after him, grumbling. “Can I at least finish-?”

“No.”

“Jesus, you’re strong for a dude who doesn’t even fucking swim.”

Minho hauls him up the stairs, yanks open his bedroom door, and shoves him inside before slamming it shut.

Jisung huffs, straightening his hoodie. “Alright, asshole, what the fuck is this? Why am I here? And why-” He pauses, eyes locking onto the bathtub, which is completely full of ice water. “-the fuck is your bath full of ice?”

Minho sighs. “I need your help.”

Jisung squints at him. “With what? Are you planning a fucking polar bear plunge?”

Minho runs a hand through his hair. “I’m taking swimming lessons.”

Jisung stares at him for a long moment. Then, he just nods. “Finally. The bullying worked.”

Minho glares. “Fuck you.”

Jisung grins, clearly too pleased with himself. “So, what? You’re trying to get used to freezing to death?”

Minho exhales sharply. “My teacher wants me to get comfortable underwater, and I don’t want to look like a bitch in front of her. So, you’re helping me practice until next Friday so I can show her I can do this shit.”

Jisung snorts, crossing his arms. “And you think dunking yourself in a fucking ice bath is the way to go?”

Minho gestures toward the tub. “Water’s water.”

Jisung shrugs. “Fair enough.” He gestures toward the bath. “Get in, then.”

Minho grimaces, looking at the water like it personally offended him. “You’re gonna have to force me in.”

Jisung blinks. “Are you serious?”

Minho nods. “Dead fucking serious. My body is screaming ‘fuck that’ right now.”

Jisung grins. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

Before Minho can protest, Jisung grabs him by the arms and lifts him straight off the floor.

“WAIT- FUCK-”

Jisung drops him into the ice water. Minho screams. Not just any scream. A full-body, guttural, horror-movie victim scream. “FUCKING SHIT! JISUNG, YOU FUCKING DEMON SPAWN!”

Jisung, completely unbothered, leans over the tub. “Deep breath.”

Minho whips his head around, shivering violently. “What? Why?”

Jisung shoves his head under the water. The cold hits like a fucking truck. Minho flails, the shock rattling every nerve in his body, but Jisung holds him down. 

Ten seconds. Ten seconds of pure, fucking misery.

Then Jisung yanks him back up. Minho gasps, sputtering water, eyes wild. “WHAT THE FUCK-”

Jisung claps him on the shoulder. “Only five more days of this. Deep breath.”

Minho’s eyes widen. “Wait-”

“Three, two, one.”

And back under.

Underwater, Minho screams, but all that comes out are bubbles. He starts shouting curses at Jisung from beneath the water, muffled but angry as fuck. Jisung just grins, keeping him down.

This is absolutely the best part of his fucking week.

The water is cool against Minho’s skin as he drops into the shallow end of the pool, his silver chains glinting under the fluorescent lights. The weight of them against his collarbones is familiar, grounding. The past week of Jisung’s torture training has prepared him for this moment, and for once, he doesn’t hesitate before stepping into the water.

You swim over to him, moving effortlessly, your sage green yoga shorts clinging to your hips, your white T-shirt damp and slightly translucent from the water. Minho catches the slight contrast of your sage green bikini top beneath it, but he doesn’t let his gaze linger.

"You ready for submersion?" you ask, voice quiet but steady.

Minho grins, rolling his shoulders. "Yep," he says confidently. "I fucking trained for this."

And without waiting for a response, he drops under the water. 

Everything muffles. The sounds of the pool, the hum of the building, even his own heartbeat, it all dulls to a distant echo as he sinks just enough for his head to fully submerge. He hovers there, his body bobbing slightly, legs kicking just enough to keep him steady. His lungs burn slightly, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s almost peaceful.

Then his mind starts wandering. Why the fuck is he so desperate to impress you? It’s not like he gives a shit about what people think of him. He’s always been confident, always had people watching him, but this feels different.

And then, before he can stop himself, his thoughts shift. To you. To how fucking beautiful you are. And then, seamlessly, to all the filthy fucking things he wants to do to you.

Minho smirks to himself, keeping his face submerged as his brain dives headfirst into every inappropriate thought he probably shouldn’t be having in a fucking swimming pool. But fuck it.

He thinks about you in his bed, tangled in his sheets, your body pressed against his as he drags his teeth over your skin, making you moan for him and him only. He thinks about your legs wrapped around his head, your hands clutching at his hair as he eats you out, taking his time, drowning in you in the best fucking way. He thinks about you with your legs around his waist, his hands gripping your thighs as he fucks you, your breath hitching, voice breaking as you say his name the way he wants to hear it.

His lungs start burning a little more now, but he stays under, letting the thoughts roll through him like waves. Then, finally, he pushes himself up.

He breaks the surface, shaking the water from his hair, and immediately locks eyes with you.

"Forty-six seconds," you say, nodding slightly. "Impressive."

Minho grins, still thinking about the absolute filth that just went through his mind. "Told you I trained."

You just hum, watching him, but something in your gaze makes him wonder if you can somehow tell what he was just thinking about.

Then, after a pause, you say, "Hey, what's the best way to shut a guy down?"

Minho raises an eyebrow. "Depends. Are we talking politely or effectively?"

You tilt your head slightly. "Just straightforward."

Minho shrugs. "Just say, ‘Hey, not interested.’ That’s it. No explanation needed."

You nod, processing that. "Okay."

Minho narrows his eyes. "Wait, who the fuck are you rejecting?"

"Just some guy who asked me out that I’m not interested in."

Minho immediately wants to ask who, but shakes it off. Instead, he smirks. "There is another option. Do this." He lifts both middle fingers.

You pause, watching him, and for the first time since he met you, you smile. Not a twitch of the lips. Not just a small reaction. A real, actual fucking smile. And Minho feels it hit him straight in the chest like a fucking wrecking ball.

Oh, he’s in trouble.

The pool water is cooler than usual tonight, but Minho barely registers it as he steps in, his silver chains clinking softly against his collarbones. You’re already there, standing waist-deep, your blue yoga shorts clinging to your hips, your white T-shirt damp against your frame with the blue bikini top just barely visible underneath. Your hair is tied back as always, those silver strands framing your face. 

"Okay," you say, voice smooth, measured. "You're learning breaststroke today. It’s the easiest for beginners. You keep your head up."

Minho nods, already bracing himself for whatever bullshit he’s about to endure.

You hand him the life vest. Without hesitation, he pulls it on, tightening the straps. At this point, he barely even complains about it anymore, just accepts his fate.

"Lie on your front," you instruct.

Minho exhales through his nose and flips onto his stomach, legs floating behind him.

"Hold the wall," you say.

Minho grips it, brows slightly furrowed.

"Legs are important in breaststroke," you continue, treading water next to him. "You kick your legs in a circular motion to propel yourself through the water. The legs are the primary source of propulsion, so it's important to get the technique right."

Minho hums, tilting his head slightly. "So what do I need to do?"

You watch him for a moment, then explain, your voice steady, clear. "Start with your legs in a streamlined position, feet pointed. Then," You pause. "Bring your heels towards your ass, with your knees slightly over hip-width apart."

Minho listens, brows furrowing slightly as he tries to visualize it.

"As your heels come up, turn your feet and knees out," you continue. "Then push your feet back in a circular motion. Finish with your legs together, stretched out, and in a streamlined position."

Minho blinks at the ceiling for a second. "That’s a lot of fucking steps."

"It’ll feel more natural once you start," you say simply. "Go ahead. Try it."

Still gripping the wall, Minho starts practising the motions, his legs moving through the water, awkward at first, but getting smoother as he repeats the cycle.

And then, your hand presses against his stomach. Minho freezes, muscles tensing beneath your touch. "Focus on keeping your core strong while you work your legs," you say, completely unaware of the absolute fucking war raging in Minho’s head right now.

Minho nods stiffly, resuming the leg motions, but all he can think about is how soft your hand feels against his bare skin, how close you are, how he’d kill to touch you in return. But he pushes the thoughts aside.

Because fuck that, he needs to get this right. He focuses hard, making sure his legs move in the correct circular pattern, making sure his core stays tight, making sure he doesn’t look like a complete fucking dumbass. Because if he’s going to impress you, he’s going to fucking earn it.

“And now stand up.”

Minho obeys, his feet finding the pool floor as he straightens. The water drips from his hair, sliding down his skin, but he barely registers it. His focus is entirely on you, watching as you move with that same effortless control, completely at home in the water.

“Okay, now the arm movements,” you say, treading water next to him. “You extend your arms, keeping your elbows tucked in, then push them forward to create a streamlined position.” You demonstrate, your arms cutting through the water with precision, your movements controlled and fluid.

Minho watches carefully, then mimics your motion, extending his arms in front of him. His elbows are a little too stiff at first, but he adjusts, rolling his shoulders, making the motion smoother.

“Then,” you continue, nodding at his form, “dip your head between your arms.”

He does, the coolness of the water surrounding him in a way that should be unnerving but isn’t. Not as much as before.

“And when you're using your legs and arms at the same time,” you say, your voice calm, even, “glide forward as your kick finishes behind you. Then sweep your hands out to the sides until they form a Y shape with your body.”

Minho mimics the arm motion, feeling out the movement. It’s strange, a little awkward at first, but it makes sense. He grins, looking at you with sharp confidence. “I’m ready to try and combine both.”

You nod. “Okay, let’s do it.”

Minho takes a deep breath, steadies himself, and then tries. It is an absolute fucking disaster.

The moment he attempts to coordinate his arms and legs, it’s like his entire body forgets how to function. His kick is mistimed, his arms flail in some horrific attempt at a Y shape, and instead of gliding smoothly through the water, he just sinks slightly, floundering like a dying fish.

For the first time ever, you giggle. It’s quiet, soft, but it immediately catches Minho’s attention.

His head pops up above the water, hair dripping into his face, and he grins instantly. “Made you laugh!”

You keep giggling, and it’s genuine, your shoulders shaking slightly as you try to compose yourself. “You looked so ridiculous,” you admit, voice breathless with amusement.

Minho’s grin only widens. “I didn’t look that bad.”

You nod, still giggling. “You did.”

You lift your hand and point at him, as if emphasizing how fucking ridiculous he looked, and you’re still laughing, the sound soft but real. Minho watches you, something warm spreading through his chest, and for once, he doesn’t say anything. He just lets you laugh.

The next day, Minho aches. Every single part of his body feels like it’s been set on fire, the result of spending hours practising breaststroke, pushing himself relentlessly just so he can show you his progress next Friday. His arms hurt, his legs feel like fucking concrete, and his core, don’t even fucking get him started on his core.

But it doesn’t matter. Because he’s going back.

It’s midday when Minho arrives at the swimming centre, determined. The pool is mostly empty at this hour, which is perfect, it means he can practice without distractions.

He strides into the locker room, pulling his hoodie over his head, tossing it onto the bench before stepping out of his sweatpants. His movements are slower than usual, stiff from soreness, but he powers through, grabbing his black swimming trunks and pulling them on. The moment he steps out, rolling his shoulders, he hears it.

Splashing. But not the normal kind. Panicked splashing.

Minho he snaps his head toward the pool. There, crouched at the edge of the deep end, is some Sigma Chi fucker. He’s leaning over the side, one hand pressed down into the water, holding someone under. Whoever it is, they’re clawing at his arm, fighting desperately.

Minho’s stomach drops. Then, he realizes.

It’s you.

“OI!”

His voice booms through the swimming centre, and the Sigma Chi guy jolts, head snapping up in alarm. The guy’s face drains of color, hands immediately raising in surrender the moment he sees who the fuck he’s dealing with.

Because everyone knows about Minho.

Minho doesn’t stop until he’s standing right there, towering over him and then, the guy removes his hand from your head. The second his grip is gone, you break through the surface, gasping for air, your hands immediately gripping the pool wall as your body wracks with coughs. Water drips from your hair, your shoulders shaking as you struggle to breathe, to steady yourself.

Minho’s rage spikes so violently he sees fucking red. Without hesitation, he shoves the Sigma Chi guy straight into the pool. There’s a loud splash, followed by a string of panicked curses, but Minho ignores him. His focus is on you.

He crouches immediately, reaching down and with zero effort, he pulls you out of the pool. The moment you’re standing, you cling to him, your body still trembling, coughs shaking through you. Minho wraps an arm around your back, pulling you closer, his other hand smoothing your soaked hair down in slow, calming motions.

"Want me to call Chan?" His voice is low, controlled, but his fury is boiling beneath the surface.

You shake your head, still gripping onto him, your fingers curled tightly into his skin. You don’t say anything, don’t let go, just keep holding onto him like he’s the only stable thing in the fucking world right now.

Minho doesn’t move. Just keeps rubbing your back, keeps smoothing your hair down, keeps holding you until your breathing steadies.

Behind him, the Sigma Chi guy sputters in the water before shouting, "What the fuck, Minho?!"

Minho doesn’t look at him. "What the fuck you?" His voice is sharp, cutting, layered with undiluted venom. "What the fuck are you doing trying to drown her?"

The guy scoffs, pushing his wet hair out of his face. “She deserved it!”

Minho’s jaw tightens. His fingers flex against your back as he holds you tighter, keeping you as far away from this fucker as possible. “Oh yeah? How?” His voice is calm, too fucking calm, and dangerous.

The guy’s eyes flare with resentment, his face twisting in rage. "She fucking humiliated me! She rejected me! Like anyone else would even be interested in her!"

Minho feels your fingers tighten around him, your whole body tensing against his.

That’s it. That’s all it takes.

Minho shifts, turning to face you, his voice gentle now, quiet. "Go get dry and dressed," he murmurs, his hand still soothingly rubbing your back. "We'll get coffee, yeah?"

You nod, hesitating only slightly before finally slipping away, heading toward the women's locker room. Minho watches you disappear through the doors before he finally turns back.

Minho crouches at the edge of the pool, his lips curling into a grin, but there’s nothing friendly about it. It’s the kind of grin that makes people sweat, the kind that carries the weight of a promise. One soaked in violence and bad fucking decisions. The Sigma Chi guy treads water below him, still coughing, still glaring, but there’s a flicker of something else behind his eyes now. Unease.

Minho tilts his head, fingers drumming against his knee like he has all the time in the world. “You wanna drown someone smaller than you?” he muses, voice light, almost conversational. “Someone who’s too shy, too fucking kind, too scared to fight back?” His head tips forward slightly, his grin widening. “Well, now, you’ve pissed me off.”

And then he moves. With zero hesitation, Minho’s hand shoots forward, grabbing the fucker by the collar and shoving him straight down into the water.

There’s a choked gasp, followed by a violent splash, but Minho doesn’t let go. He watches as the guy’s arms flail, his hands grabbing at nothing, his legs kicking uselessly beneath him. It’s not panic yet, not fully, but Minho can see it brewing, feel it building, and he revels in it.

It’s not even close to what the bastard did to you, but Minho doesn’t need long. Just a few seconds. Just enough to make a point. Beneath the surface, bubbles rise as the guy thrashes, his fists hitting at Minho’s wrist, but Minho doesn’t budge.

And then, just when he starts to struggle harder, just when the panic fully sets in, Minho yanks him up by his hair.

The guy breaks the surface with a ragged gasp, sputtering, coughing, trying to push his wet hair out of his eyes. His breathing is shaky, his expression furious, but it’s fury laced with fear now.

Minho leans in closer, voice low, steady, sharp as a fucking blade. “I see your face around her ever again,” he murmurs, tightening his grip in the guy’s hair, forcing their eyes to lock, “and you won’t resurface next time.”

The guy stills. His whole body goes rigid, his breath caught somewhere in his throat, and Minho watches as his brain finally fucking catches up. Minho lets go, standing up smoothly, towering over the water-drenched mess below him. He doesn’t need to say anything else. The warning is clear enough. And if the bastard is smart, he’ll take it.

------------------------------------------

Minho steps out of the pool area, rolling his shoulders as his gaze immediately finds you sitting outside the women's locker room. You’re curled up on one of the plastic benches, elbows resting on your knees, fingers playing with the hem of your white cropped hoodie. Your black sweatpants are slightly too long, pooling around the tops of your scuffed white Converse, and your damp blue hair is still tied back, the silver strands at the front framing your face.

You look small like this, curled in on yourself, your usual quiet presence even quieter than usual.

Minho exhales, schooling his expression into something lighter, something easier. He won’t make this worse for you by hovering too much, by pressing for details you probably don’t want to give.

Instead, he stops in front of you, tilting his head slightly. "I'm gonna go throw some clothes on, and we'll go, okay?"

You blink up at him, nodding once, your fingers still idly tugging at your hoodie sleeve.

Minho doesn’t hesitate. He turns and strides into the men’s locker room, making quick work of peeling off his swimming trunks. His body is still aching from hours of practice yesterday, and now with the added exertion of holding someone underwater, his muscles protest every movement.

Still, he moves fast, pulling on a pair of black sweatpants and a fitted hoodie, leaving his damp hair to dry on its own. Within minutes, he’s stepping back outside, rejoining you where you’re still sitting in the exact same position.

He doesn’t give you a chance to hesitate.

"Come on," he murmurs, gently pulling you up to stand, his arm automatically wrapping around your shoulders, tugging you into his side. He keeps his grip loose, non-restrictive, letting you lean in as much or as little as you want. "We’ll get you some tea or coffee, yeah? It'll help."

You nod again, your body moulding slightly into his warmth, and Minho exhales softly, steering you toward the exit.

The air outside is cool, the sun dipping lower, casting long shadows across the pavement as Minho leads you toward the frat house.

“We can go back to the house,” he says, keeping his tone casual, like this is just another normal day. "Everyone has lectures or shit to do, so it'll be quiet."

You nod again, your gaze fixed ahead, silent but steady.

Minho watches you for a second before tightening his arm around you slightly, his fingers tracing idle patterns against your shoulder. He doesn’t say anything else. He just keeps walking, keeps leading you forward, until the swimming centre is nothing but a fading memory behind you.

The frat house is exactly as chaotic and disgusting as Minho expects when he pushes the door open, stepping inside with you tucked at his side. You glance around, eyes scanning the absolute mess that litters the floors, the couch, the countertops, crushed beer cans, abandoned hoodies, a pair of sneakers that definitely aren’t the same size, and an inflated condom bobs around the hallway.

Minho kicks it out of the hallway like it personally offended him, muttering under his breath before leading you toward the kitchen.

You follow silently, your steps slow, as if still processing everything from earlier. Minho keeps one eye on you, making sure you’re not checking out mentally before focusing back on the kitchen doorway.

And then, you trip. Minho's arm shoots out immediately, catching you before you even come close to hitting the ground, steadying you with ease. But instead of focusing on you, your eyes drop to the floor, to the thing that nearly sent you flying or rather, the someone.

There, sprawled across the cold fucking tile, is a guy with fluffy brown hair, dead asleep. His cheek is smushed against the floor, arms sprawled out, one leg bent awkwardly over the other, like he just died mid-walk and collapsed.

You blink.

Minho exhales through his nose. "That’s Jisung," he says, bored, like this is the most normal thing in the world. "He’ll literally sleep anywhere. The fact that he’s still here means Felix isn’t, or else his clingy little boyfriend ass would’ve coaxed him into sleeping somewhere socially acceptable."

You nod, still staring at the grown-ass man sleeping peacefully on the filthy frat house floor.

Minho steps over him without hesitation before glancing back at you. "Just step on him."

You frown. "That’s cruel."

Minho smirks. "It’s Jisung, it’s fine."

You shake your head and carefully step around him instead. But Minho steps directly on Jisung’s back. There’s a grunted noise from below, a sleepy, confused “fuck off”, but Jisung doesn’t even move, just shifts slightly before settling back into deep unconsciousness.

Minho moves on, making a beeline for the kettle, rolling his shoulders as he opens a cabinet stuffed full of tea bags, instant coffee packets, and a variety of shit he barely remembers buying.

"Any preference for tea?" he asks, glancing at you over his shoulder. "I have every kind you can think of."

You hesitate for a second before murmuring, "Green tea."

Minho nods, pulling a box from the cabinet with one hand while reaching for the kettle with the other. "Honey?"

"Yes, please."

He hums, setting the kettle on before turning to face you, leaning against the counter. His gaze lingers on you for a second before he says, voice still casual but laced with something sharper, "So. What happened with that Sigma Chi dick?"

You don’t answer immediately, fingers curling slightly against the hem of your hoodie. Then, finally, you sigh, voice quiet but steady.

"He and his friends cornered me. He asked me on a date, I said no, and then, well, you saw how he took that." Your lips press together briefly before you add, "He was waiting for me when I arrived at the pool."

The sharp, earthy scent of tea fills the kitchen as the kettle steams, and from the floor, Jisung sniffs like a fucking bloodhound. His eyes crack open groggily, still half-asleep, but immediately locked onto the source of the smell.

"Tea," he mutters, voice rough from sleep. "Me want."

Minho doesn’t even glance down, just rolls his eyes as he pulls two mugs from the cabinet.

Jisung starts to push himself up but pauses mid-motion, blinking slowly as his gaze shifts to you, still seated at the table. His head tilts, squinting slightly, like he’s trying to confirm whether or not you’re real. 

"There’s a Smurfette in the kitchen," 

Minho snorts, shaking his head. "Jisung, this is Y/N," he says, setting a mug down in front of you before handing you a spoon. "She’s my swimming teacher, my friend, and Chan’s friend."

Jisung blinks again, brain still not fully operational. "Chan has friends?" he mumbles, rubbing at his eyes before his head snaps up properly, realization finally fucking hitting. "Wait, wait, wait, you’re Minho’s mystery teacher?"

Minho sighs. "Give him a minute," he mutters to you. "His two brain cells need time to fucking jumpstart."

Jisung doesn’t even register the insult. Instead, he points at you, eyes wide, and then immediately swivels back to Minho. "What the fuck did you do to the poor girl?!" His tone is accusatory, like Minho’s some villain who just kicked a puppy. "She’s soaked and sad!"

Jisung scrambles up onto his feet, rubbing his eyes before dramatically throwing himself between you and Minho, arms outstretched like some tragic hero. "It’s okay, honey, I’m here to protect you from the big meanie."

You blink at him, processing the absolute whirlwind of energy that just came flying at you, before calmly saying, "Minho helped me."

Jisung freezes and his arms drop slightly, his brows furrowing as his lips purse in deep confusion. He turns to you slowly, like he’s trying to process words that don’t make sense. Then, with absolute seriousness, he asks, "Minho? Lee Minho? Helped someone?!"

Minho just rolls his eyes, stirring the tea, but Jisung isn’t done. His brain pivots instantly, fixating on you instead. He squints at you, tapping his chin. "You look like you have anxiety. I have anxiety. That makes us anxiety buddies."

You blink as Minho groans, setting his mug down with a small thud. "Jisung, she doesn’t need your crackhead anxiety energy right now. She needs calm."

You shrug, voice still soft. "I don’t mind."

Jisung immediately flips Minho off before he slides into the chair beside you. With zero hesitation, he digs into the pocket of his hoodie, pulling out a small fidget toy, a soft, squishy ball that glows slightly when squeezed, and places it in your hand.

"Here, these help," he says. His voice is genuine, no longer teasing, just light and warm and real.

You look down at the toy for a second before wrapping your fingers around it, testing the texture, feeling the slight give as you squeeze. It’s simple, but oddly grounding, and when you look up again, Jisung is grinning at you.

"It’s okay," he says, nodding sagely. "Minho might seem like a dick, but he’s nice."

You don’t hesitate. "I know."

At that, Minho pauses, his spoon still stirring, but his lips twitch slightly, a hidden smile that he quickly hides behind his mug as he takes a slow sip of tea before he turns back to the counter, grabbing the jar of honey and twisting off the lid. He dips a spoon in, watching the thick golden liquid drizzle into the mug, swirling into the warm tea as he stirs. His movements are unhurried, the soft clink of the spoon against ceramic filling the kitchen.

Behind him, Jisung shifts in his chair before he speaks again, voice more curious than concerned. "Uh, Minho, what’s wrong with her?"

Minho glances over his shoulder and immediately spots it. You’re completely still, your eyes locked straight ahead, your fingers still fidgeting with the squishy toy Jisung gave you, but your expression is vacant like someone hit a pause button on you.

Minho exhales through his nose, setting the honey jar down. "She’s having a seizure."

Jisung frowns, turning toward you, his head tilting as he waves his hand in front of your face. No reaction. You don’t blink, don’t shift, don’t even seem aware of the movement at all.

Jisung leans back slightly, processing, before muttering, "Aren’t seizures more-" He suddenly jerks his arms and shakes his whole body violently, mimicking full-body convulsions.

Minho snorts, shaking his head. "Different type of epilepsy, dumbass. She’s just not here right now."

Jisung drops the act, blinking at you with open fascination. "Dude, this is cool as fuck. I need to learn how to disassociate like this. My brain never fucking shuts up."

Minho just rolls his eyes, turning back to the counter and grabbing your mug. He lifts it carefully, making sure the tea is mixed properly, before moving back toward the table.

Just as he sets the mug down in front of you, your body jerks slightly, and then you blink. Your hands twitch around the fidget toy before your gaze refocuses, flickering around as if you’re reorienting yourself.

Minho watches, giving you a second before speaking. "Tea’s ready, mermaid girl."

Your eyes drop to the mug in front of you, your fingers hesitating for half a second before wrapping around the warm ceramic. You don’t say anything, don’t acknowledge what just happened. And Minho doesn’t press.

He just leans back in his chair, watching as you slowly bring the mug to your lips, your fingers still curled around Jisung’s fidget toy.

Minho arrives at the swimming centre late Friday night, his boots scuffing against the pavement as he approaches the entrance. The air is crisp, the quiet hum of streetlights buzzing faintly in the background. He spots you immediately, standing just outside the doors, your fingers fiddling anxiously with the strap of your bag.

You’re dressed in beige cargo pants, the fabric slightly oversized, hanging comfortably around your frame. A white knit sweater is layered over top, the sleeves slightly too long, the hem brushing just below your waist. A beige cap sits snugly on your head, your hair tucked back neatly, and your white sneakers scuff lightly against the pavement as you shift your weight from one foot to the other.

Minho slows his steps, his brows pulling together slightly. "You okay?"

Your fingers still against the strap for half a second before you nod, but your voice is quiet, controlled. "I didn’t want to go in without someone checking he wasn’t waiting again."

Minho nods once, his jaw tightening as a familiar wave of irritation flickers through him. He doesn’t say anything—just wraps an arm around you, pulling you close as he guides you inside with him. His gaze scans the space immediately, sweeping across the pool deck, the empty bleachers, the locker room hallways. His muscles are tense, his grip slightly firmer than usual, but he doesn’t let it show on his face.

After a few moments, he exhales through his nose. "I think you’re good," he murmurs, finally glancing down at you. His arm squeezes briefly, reassuring, before he steps back. "Meet you in the pool?"

You nod once, your voice slightly steadier. "We’re working on breaststroke in the deep end today."

Minho smirks, shaking off the lingering tension. "Great."

He heads toward the men’s locker room, stripping off his hoodie and jeans as he moves. His body is still sore as fuck from practising all week, but he doesn’t care. He’s determined. He tugs on his black swimming trunks, running a hand through his hair before stepping back out toward the pool.

The moment he does, his eyes immediately find you.

You’re standing by the edge, adjusting your navy yoga shorts, your posture casual, your skin still slightly damp from warming up earlier. You’re not wearing your usual T-shirt over your swimsuit this time, just a navy bikini top, the fabric snug against your frame, exposing more skin than usual.

You catch him looking and exhale through your nose, tilting your head slightly. "I forgot my T-shirt." Your voice is as even as always, but there’s a hint of hesitation, like you’re expecting a reaction. "Is that okay?"

Minho grins immediately, his gaze sweeping over you without shame as he hops into the pool, the water sloshing around him as he lands. His smirk is lazy, teasing, eyes glinting.

"More than okay," he says smoothly, shaking the water from his hair.

You don’t react. Just tilt your head slightly, watching him with that same calm, unreadable expression. But Minho notices the way your fingers pause slightly against the waistband of your shorts before you follow him into the water.

Minho paddles out into the deeper part of the pool, his strokes steady, his muscles aching slightly but functioning better than they ever have in the water. You swim beside him, your movements smooth, effortless, like the water bends around you rather than resists. The contrast is almost funny, where you glide, Minho is still learning, still adjusting, but for the first time, he doesn’t feel like he’s fighting against the pool itself.

“Remember what I taught you,” you say, your voice lighter than usual, more open. There’s a warmth to it now, something easier, something softer.

Minho grins. “Obviously,” he scoffs, then actually fucking does it—his arms and legs moving in sync, his body pushing forward without immediately sinking. It’s not perfect, but it’s breaststroke, and it’s working.

You watch for a few moments, and then, to his absolute fucking delight, you smile at him.

“What now? I’m like a fucking fish!”

You tilt your head, clearly unimpressed. “At best, you’re at a six-year-old’s swimming competency.”

Minho gasps, hand dramatically slapping his chest. "How fucking dare you-"

His overreaction costs him immediately. The second he loses focus, his rhythm breaks, and his body tilts awkwardly, sinking slightly. His instincts kick in, panic flaring for half a second, but before he can do anything, you move first.

You dive forward, reaching out without hesitation, your hands gripping his arms, steadying him, keeping him above water before he can actually fuck himself over.

Minho exhales sharply, adjusting, getting his balance back, and then grins triumphantly as he resumes swimming, this time more controlled. “You,” he pants, paddling closer to you, his voice smoother, cockier. “You’re a fucking miracle worker.”

You glance away, almost shy, before nodding slightly, the corners of your lips twitching again. Minho watches you for a beat longer before he moves.

Without thinking, without second-guessing, he surges forward, closing the distance between you in an instant. His fingers tangle into your damp hair, and before you can react, his mouth is on yours.

The kiss is hot and demanding, his lips moving over yours with no hesitation, no uncertainty, just pure fucking intention. His other hand grips the pool ledge, holding you right where he wants you, his body pressing against yours, chest-to-chest, nothing between you but water and heat.

Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, your thighs squeezing slightly as you pull him closer, and he fucking groans into your mouth, his fingers tightening in your hair as he kisses you deeper, harder, hungrier. Your hands find his shoulders, gripping lightly, nails digging in as you kiss him back, the slow burn of tension between you finally fucking snapping.

Minho’s hand slides down, dragging over your thighs, your hips, your waist, mapping out your skin like he’s memorizing it, like he’s claiming it, like he’s been waiting for this the entire fucking time. And then, slowly, he pulls back, his breathing slightly uneven, his forehead resting against yours as he smirks. “I’m gonna take you on a date,” he says, voice rough, but amused, like the words just popped into his head and stuck.

You blink at him, slightly dazed, and he grins. “Somewhere where I have the high ground,” he muses, still catching his breath. “Like football.” His fingers trail lazily down your spine, and he smirks even wider. “Yes. I’m going to teach you how to play football.”

You stare at him for a second, and he knows you’re about to call him a dumbass, but before you can, he tilts his head slightly. “Wanna go on a date?”

There’s a pause, a small one, but a pause nonetheless, before you finally nod. "Sure."

The college football field is eerily quiet this late at night, the floodlights casting long shadows over the empty bleachers. The grass is slightly damp from the evening air, but the field itself is pristine, untouched, a perfect stretch of green beneath the stadium lights.

You stand near the centre, arms crossed loosely over your chest, dressed in black leggings, black Converse, and a long-sleeve black T-shirt. The fabric clings to your frame just enough to be flattering, but loose enough to be comfortable, your movements easy, fluid, as you watch Minho with quiet curiosity.

Minho, on the other hand, is grinning like a fucking idiot, clearly thrilled about whatever the fuck he has planned for tonight. In his hands, he holds his black and red #25 jersey, the fabric slightly worn but clearly well taken care of.

"Put it on," he says, handing it over with zero explanation.

You eye him for a second before taking it, fingers brushing against the material as you pull it over your head. The scent of fabric softener, faint cologne, and something distinctly Minho lingers in the material, comforting, familiar in a way you hadn’t expected. Minho watches, clearly pleased, before stepping closer and placing a football helmet on your head.

It immediately slips forward, covering your eyes. There’s a beat of silence. Then Minho sighs, shaking his head. "Okay, maybe we forget the helmet. Time to learn football."

You adjust the jersey, pushing the sleeves up slightly before glancing at him. "You know, I had hoped our date would involve food."

Minho waves a hand dismissively. "Food later. I’ll cook for you. I’m the best cook in the frat." His smirk widens. "But right now, I get to teach you something."

You exhale through your nose, clearly unconvinced, but before you can argue, Minho tosses you a football.

You reach for it and miss completely. The ball thuds against the ground, bouncing off into the distance.

Minho throws his head back, letting out an obnoxiously loud whoop, his hands shooting up toward the sky. "YES!" He claps his hands together. "You suck at something! Thank you, God! Finally!"

You glare at him, but there’s no real heat behind it. "Shut up."

Minho grins, clearly delighted. "Okay, can you run?"

You raise an eyebrow. "Yes."

Minho smirks. "Of course you can. At least you’re terrible at catching. You need a flaw, sweetness, and God has finally given you one."

You don’t dignify that with a response, just watch as he tosses another football toward you. You reach for it and miss again. With a deep sigh, you drop your hands. "This isn’t fun."

Minho hums, tapping his chin thoughtfully. Then, suddenly, he snaps his fingers. "Okay, let’s make it fun." He leans in slightly, his voice dropping into something lower, smoother. "Kisses. Lots of kisses. If you can take this ball from my hands, I’ll reward you."

You tilt your head, stepping closer. "Or," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, your fingers brushing against his as you lean in. "You could fuck me in your jersey."

Before he can process what the fuck just came out of your mouth, you snatch the ball straight from his hands and sprint. Minho freezes. His brain short-circuits completely, his entire system rebooting like a fucking crashed computer. His hands are still outstretched, fingers still slightly curled, like they haven’t quite registered the loss of the ball yet.

His brain screams at him to move, but all he can do is blink rapidly as the words repeat in his head on a fucking loop. 

Then, finally, he reacts. "HEY!" His body jerks forward, snapping into motion as he scrambles to chase after you, his feet digging into the turf as he takes off.

But, you’re faster. You fucking sprint, your movements quick and controlled, your legs carrying you with ease as you gain distance. Minho grits his teeth, pushing harder, but you’re already ahead, already laughing breathlessly as you weave across the field.

The cool night air rushes past as you sprint across the field, the football tucked securely under your arm. Your heart pounds, not from fear, not from exhaustion, but from the sheer exhilaration of being chased.

You glance over your shoulder just in time to see Minho gaining on you, his strides long, powerful, relentless. His expression is pure determination, sharp and focused, but beneath it is a grin, a cocky, teasing thing that says he’s enjoying this just as much as you are.

Before you can push forward, before you can even think about trying to outrun him again, he lunges. His arms wrap around your waist, and for a split second, the world tilts. But instead of hitting the ground hard, he twists mid-fall, flipping the position so you land right on top of him, his back hitting the grass instead of yours. The impact is cushioned, controlled, his body taking the fall for you effortlessly.

You blink down at him, breathless, the warmth of his body radiating up through your clothes.

Minho’s grin is smug, his dark eyes flickering in the dim stadium lights. "Nicely played," he murmurs, his voice low, amused, his hands still resting against your waist, fingers just barely digging into your hips.

You smile, something mischievous flickering behind your usually calm gaze. Slowly, deliberately, you lean down, your lips barely brushing against his, teasing, soft, fleeting before you’re gone again.

You push off of him, sprinting away before he can even think about stopping you, the ball still firmly in your grasp. Minho bursts out laughing, a full-bodied, genuine laugh, as he scrambles back to his feet, his boots digging into the turf as he launches himself after you.

"Come on, sweetness!" he calls after you, his voice dripping with cocky amusement. "You can’t run forever!"

You know he’s right, his endurance is better, his reaction time quicker, and before you can dodge, before you can make another move, he snatches your wrist mid-sprint.

With one fluid motion, he spins you back into his chest, your body colliding with his, and in an instant, his mouth is on yours. The kiss is nothing like the last one.

This one is fierce, unapologetic, possessive, his hands cup your face, thumbs brushing over your skin, fingers threading through your hair as he holds you there, as if making sure you’re not slipping away again.

Your breath catches, but you don’t pull away, don’t hesitate, don’t second-guess. Instead, you press closer, your fingers gripping at his clothes, your entire body melting into the kiss like you’ve been waiting for it.

Minho makes a low, satisfied noise, something deep and approving, something that vibrates against your lips as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss even further, like he can’t help himself.

The football? 

Completely forgotten.

The swimming centre is buzzing with faint echoes of water slapping against tile, but the real noise comes from the group of seven loud-mouthed Alpha Phi assholes standing at the edge of the pool, all of them dressed in various pairs of swimming trunks, looking either confused, bored, or outright suspicious.

Minho stands in front of them, hands on his hips, grinning like he owns the fucking place.

"Good afternoon, bitches," he announces, his voice echoing through the space. "Meet Y/N."

You’re standing slightly behind him, relaxed but observant, dressed in your usual yoga shorts and a bikini top, arms loosely crossed as you watch them all process the introduction.

Chan, standing closest, immediately steps forward and wraps you into a warm, familiar side hug, squeezing lightly before pulling back just as quick. You return it, a small smile forming as his presence is steady, grounding, something safe.

Jisung, already grinning, waves happily at you, his expression bright, easy, open—completely different from the crackhead energy he had the first time you met him. You wave back, your movement small but genuine, and Jisung nods approvingly, like he’s decided he fully supports your existence now.

Then Hyunjin, who has been watching Minho with pure suspicion, tilts his head, arms crossed over his chest. "Why are we here, Minho, and why the fuck are you in swimming trunks?"

Minho’s grin widens, clearly thrilled to finally say it. "Because, dear Hyunjin, I can swim." He claps his hands together, turning slightly as he throws his arms out dramatically. "And I'm here to prove it to all you bitches." Then, his voice shifts, going softer, more playful, as he turns to you. "Not you, baby."

Your lips twitch slightly, but you don’t say anything, just watch as Hyunjin’s jaw actually fucking drops.

"What?" Hyunjin sputters, looking wildly at the others. "Are we being punked? Are there cameras? No fucking way."

Chan, still processing, frowns slightly before turning back to you, his eyes narrowing. "Y/N, you and Minho?"

You nod once, your face calm, unreadable.

Chan immediately loses it. "WHAT? NO, NO, NO! NOT MY LITTLE BABY!"

And then, before you can react, he fucking cradles you. Chan, all muscle, all protective instinct, literally wraps his arms around you, holding you like you’re an actual fucking child, his voice dramatic, pained. "This is a disaster. This is the worst thing to ever happen. No. Nope. I refuse. We are undoing this. Y/N, blink twice if you need saving."

Minho, completely unfazed, crosses his arms, rolling his eyes as he waits for Chan’s meltdown to pass.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Minho waves him off, stepping forward, leaning casually against your shoulder, completely ignoring the fact that Chan is still holding you like a toddler. "I corrupted your baby. Wasn't really hard anyway. It's me, Chan. Time to accept it."

Chan groans loudly, shaking his head. "I hate this. I hate everything."

Minho grins wider, fully basking in the moment. "And anyway, none of that matters because the real point is-" He gestures toward the pool with both arms, dramatic as ever. "Y/N taught me how to swim, so my only flaw? Gone. I am now perfect."

Jisung bursts out laughing, clutching his stomach, literally bending over as he wheezes. "Your only flaw? Minho, you are the biggest piece of shit I’ve ever met."

Hyunjin claps sarcastically, still looking personally betrayed. "Wow. Wow. I’m so happy for you. This is truly a moment for all of us."

Seungmin leans against the edge of the pool, arms crossed, his expression completely unimpressed as he watches Minho stand there like he’s about to unveil the greatest athletic achievement of all time.

“Get to swimming then, Tinky Winky,” Seungmin deadpans.

Minho’s head snaps toward him so fast it’s a miracle his neck doesn’t break. “Fuck you,” he shoots back, flipping him off before stepping toward the edge.

And then, without another word, he hops into the pool.

The water splashes around him, cool against his skin, but he barely registers it before he pushes off the wall, kicking off with force, and starts breaststroking up and down the pool. His movements are controlled, precise, smooth, nothing like the floundering disaster he started with weeks ago.

It’s not perfect, but it’s damn good.

The guys watch for a few moments, still processing the fact that Minho, Lee Minho, the man who refused to even put a toe in the deep end, is actually swimming like a normal fucking person.

“Pssst, Y/N,” Hyunjin suddenly whispers, leaning in slightly. "Hi, I’m Hyunjin. How bad was he when he started?"

You tilt your head, your expression calm, innocent, but there’s a hint of amusement flickering in your eyes. "He wore a life vest and arm floaties."

Hyunjin’s hand flies to his mouth, trying to smother his snort, but it’s too late—a wheeze escapes him, and the others immediately zero in on the conversation.

You lean in slightly, lowering your voice just enough to make them hang on every word. "The first time he tried combining the arms and legs for breaststroke," you continue, straight-faced, "I thought he was going to die."

The guys erupt into laughter, the sound echoing through the swimming centre, bouncing off the walls as Chan doubles over, clutching his stomach, while Jisung literally collapses onto Felix. Seungmin is wheezing, Changbin is cackling, and Jeongin actually has to sit down on the edge of the pool from laughing so hard.

You smile innocently in Minho’s direction just as he reaches the wall, finishing another length.

He catches the look on your face immediately, and his own grin grows wider. "What are you talking about?"

Hyunjin, still laughing, straightens up instantly, clearing his throat. "Oh, uh, nothing, right Y/N?"

You tilt your head, playing along effortlessly. "Nothing."

Minho narrows his eyes slightly, clearly not buying it, but before he can say anything else, he reaches up, grabs Hyunjin’s wrist, and yanks him straight into the pool.

Hyunjin yells in betrayal as he hits the water, arms flailing dramatically, his voice muffled by the splash as he disappears beneath the surface.

The others cheer loudly, jeering as Hyunjin resurfaces, coughing and spluttering, glaring at Minho like a wet cat.

Felix and Jisung, still grinning, move toward you, offering their hands. Without hesitation, you take them, letting them help you into the water, the cool temperature washing over you instantly. Changbin, Chan, Seungmin, and Jeongin all hop in after, the pool filling with energy and laughter as the guys start splashing each other, the tension from earlier completely gone.

Then, from somewhere behind you, Seungmin calls out.

"CHICKEN!"

Minho turns to you immediately, his smirk returning full force. "Get on my shoulders, baby."

You raise a brow but don’t hesitate, placing your hands lightly on his shoulders as he ducks under slightly, guiding your legs around him before standing up fully, lifting you above the water with ease. For a second, the world tilts, your vision filled with stadium lights reflecting off the rippling pool, the sounds of laughter and splashing fading slightly as your focus shifts solely to Minho.

He’s looking up at you, his hands firm around your thighs, holding you steady. But his expression is different now, his usual cocky smirk softened, his dark eyes taking you in with something quiet, unreadable.

The lights from the pool cast a soft glow around you, catching on the strands of your blue and silver hair, making them shimmer like fucking stardust. And then, before he can even stop himself, Minho murmurs, almost in awe,

"You’re beautiful, you know that?"

You smile at him, a small, genuine thing, one that lights up your eyes. Minho smiles back instantly, warmth spreading through his chest, a deep, easy kind of happiness settling in his bones.

For the first time, he lets himself think about it, really fucking think about it. If the guys hadn’t bullied him into learning how to swim, if he hadn’t let his own stubborn pride push him to prove himself, he would have never met you.

And in Minho’s mind, that would have been the greatest fucking tragedy.

General Taglist: @nightmarenyxx @velvetmoonlght @annafee_bou @mlink64 @intoanothermind

Lee Minho Taglist: @0haerireah0 @linowzzzz

Proofread by the lovely @eastjonowhere

[p0rk-guts]

He's finally done I think. WOAW! Radio demon time!!!

Okay time for comparison + breakdown rant ^ - ^ another SUPER long one I had a lot to say about this silly guy

ALRIGHT. So. Atp all that can be said has been said about Alastor but I'll gloss over it anyhow. Grossly historically inaccurate hair and clothing. Invisible deer theming. One of the main reasons he's got one of the most clowned on designs in the show is bc he's a pretty good representation of the worst it has to offer. He's absurdly red and has the waspiest waist in town. Also gotta zero in on the coat for a second bc I find it incredibly stupid that he went to that tailor bc of his coat being ripped and then left the shop with the exact same torn coat on oh goddd that felt like a complete joke who wrote this

Also his "redesign" was pointless. He stayed pretty much entirely the same except his colors got pinker and grosser and now he has this?? White trim on his lapels??? Even less 1930's accurate and it only serves to hurt the pallate in my eyes. It's the only spot of white on his entire design, it doesn't appear anywhere else so it throws it all off. And it's so bright. Is it supposed to be a focal point?? His tits????

Anyways onto my guy who I love so very deeply. I'm pretty sure sepia film was outdated by the 1930s but I gave him a palette inspired by it to emphasize how dated and stuck in old ways he is. Added blood red accents bc. Well. Cannibal murderer. Also bc I redid the sin colors so red is wrath and it seems like a fitting sin to pair him with.

After looking into 1930's men's fashion a tiny bit (thanks anon, this video was helpful!) and gave him a double breasted coat but wider and pointier so he looks a little less like just some normal guy and really emphasize how prideful and egotistical he is. "Ooo look at me I'm super big and imposing and powerfulll". I think it's a fun character trait of his. Definitely keeping it.

I liked him wearing gloves bc I feel like he wouldn't like getting his hands directly dirty and would always be covered when committing his murders. Maybe he's a germaphobe even. "I can excuse murder but I draw the line at dried blood on my skin". Also the gloves being white would contrast really well with blood so. Love that

I gave him a long tie to free him from the Vivziepop bow tie uniform and a fedora to add to the 1930's vibe and serve as something that can occasionally obscure his face in shadow. His glasses are also opaque and I imagine his eyes would rarely be shown if ever to make him seem more inhuman and off-putting, disconnecting him from personhood a bit. Wanted to add to that with his smiling mouth never opening and just being a static grin that can only occasionally widen or lessen, his voice cracking out of his "speaker" with fuzzy radio static. Seen multiple ppl use that idea and it always eats

I love Alastor's silly theatric nature (primarily in the pilot) and I'd probably keep it, but I'd add a layer of uncanny-ness to him where when he's not putting on his silly jovial facade, he gives off an unnerving vibe. Trying to appear approachable and charming and pleasant to lure people in before he's revealed to be less than human. Loveee thattt

I love Alastor being a deer. Predator becoming prey (animal) + "prey animal" lulling people into a false sense of security before striking. Love it. We should be CAPITALIZING ON IT❗So I gave him deer like legs, visible deer hooves, and more readable deer ears + the ham radio tower antenna antlers (sorry 4 calling them horns 💀)

Tried to make it a little more obvious that he's a mixed man of color by giving him dark wavy hair and the faintest hint of lip definition Viv uses in her style. I think it works. He's still not dark skinned tho

LASTLY the mic. Also not an original idea as I've seen tons of others turn it into a carbon mic but turned into a pentagram shape and I love the idea a lotttt so I joined the crew.

AND THAT DOES IT!!!! hope u like him as much as I do hehe. Just 1 supplemental doodle this time sorry :/ showing off how his face is probably obscured most of the time. He's. So hard to draw. I'm just bad at men but I'm tryinggggg guys

Alsoooo I've already finished the drawings for Niffty, Angel, and Husk! Once I've finished their breakdowns I'll add em right to the queue, and then I'll make a post with all of the main 6 together :3

[akinternational]

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Naim Muso is an award-winning wireless speaker series that will turn your boring one-dimensional listening party into a three-dimensional dynamic party. It provides spatial sound just like Dolby Atmos home theatre 5.1 that will make you feel you are live at the venue. So, if you are looking to buy a portable speaker, below are some of the benefits that will help you make a decision. 

Benefits of Naim Muso Wireless Speaker - 

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Single Box System – The new Naim Muso QB 2nd Generation is compact in size. It is a single box system which doesn’t require much space to be installed. It is portable so you can take it with you without any hassle. 

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Easy to use – The Naim Speakers are easy to use. You can control it with an audio brain that comes with all the features. You can stream music from the latest music streaming applications such as Spotify Connect, Tidal, AirPlay. You can connect it via Bluetooth or also connect it using Ethernet or Wifi. 

Stylish – The grille comes in 4 different colours- canard bleu, rouge terracotta, vert olive and grise. The cabinet design with aluminium casing is re-engineered to create 13% more internal volume which enables bigger and better bass. You can combine it with other Naim products, or AirPlay or connect with Chromecast. 

Now that you are familiar with the benefits, go and buy the best portable speakers of Naim Audio from AK International and enjoy the crystal-clear audio of surround speakers on the go without any distortion.

[hero21us]

The Golden Army Super Bowl Revelation

It was the biggest event of the year—the Super Bowl. A global spectacle that millions of men tuned in to watch, their eyes glued to the screen, ready to cheer for their teams. The air seemed charged with anticipation.

Across the world, men in packed sports bars, living rooms, and dorms sat eagerly with drinks in hand, awaiting the thrill of competition. The game began, and cheers filled the air as players clashed on the field. Yet, slowly, subtly, a shift started to take place.

As the first commercial break hit, it wasn’t the usual flashy ads for cars or beers. No. The screen faded to black, and suddenly, the voice of a powerful narrator boomed from the speakers: “What if music could do more than just entertain you? What if it could transform you?”

Golden Army Headphones were introduced—sleek, metallic, with an aura of power surrounding them.

Men around the world, from small college dorms to the largest sports bars, simultaneously felt something stir inside them. The moment the headphones appeared on screen, a feeling of confidence washed over them. Each person could almost hear the beats pulsating from their own minds. They were hooked.

In every room, heads turned to look at the screen, and the once-distracted chatter about plays on the field quieted down. “I need those.” “They’ll change everything.” The game was forgotten, replaced by a shared obsession for the headphones that promised strength and focus.

The second commercial was no less hypnotic. A golden-sand beach stretched out in front of the camera, bathed in sunlight. The voice-over spoke of “unlocking your godlike potential” at the Golden Army Tropical Beach Resort. The imagery was unlike anything anyone had seen—men, once tired from long workweeks or university stress, standing tall by the ocean, their bodies transformed, radiating power.

In every living room, the same reaction rippled through the crowd. “That’s it... that's where I belong.” The game? It faded away. The idea of becoming a god, of stepping into a new realm where strength and confidence were within their grasp, consumed them. The Super Bowl game seemed small, insignificant in comparison to what the Golden Army offered.

As if on cue, the next commercial hit, showcasing the Golden Army Eatery. The screen was filled with rich, hearty food, but it wasn’t just about eating. The voice-over explained how each bite would transform you, changing your mind and body into something greater.

Men’s faces lit up across the globe. This wasn’t just a meal. It was a journey to greatness. The idea of sitting at a table, transforming with every bite, becoming stronger, more powerful—was irresistible. The Super Bowl, once the focal point, no longer held their attention. Conversations shifted from touchdowns to what was on the menu at the Golden Army Eatery.

“I have to go there. This is what I need.” The connection was undeniable.

Every commercial during the first half touched a core value in the male viewers that could be filled by joining the Golden Army.

As the Super Bowl reached halftime, the world braced for what was traditionally a flashy celebrity performance. But this year, things were different. The stadium lights dimmed, and a deep, rhythmic beat echoed across the venue. The golden screen above the field came to life, glowing with an almost mystical energy.

The voice of the narrator boomed over the speakers: “This is not just a halftime show. This is the Golden Army awakening.”

The crowd fell into a hushed silence as the stage revealed the Golden Army—tall, imposing figures wearing golden kits. Their presence was overwhelming. As they moved in perfect unison, their every step matched the beat of the music. The air pulsed with power, a rhythm that felt like it was coursing through every man’s veins. Their eyes glowed with golden intensity, and as the camera zoomed in, men all over the world could feel themselves drawn to their strength.

Then, the Golden Army Leader appeared, towering and regal , an aura of power radiating from him. The Leader raised his hand, and a shimmering golden portal opened above the stadium, revealing even more soldiers marching through.

The screen behind them flashed images of the Golden Army Eatery, the Golden Army Headphones, and the Golden Army Tropical Beach Resort—each a symbol of transformation, power, and godlike strength.

The Golden Leader, with a booming and hypnotic voice, proclaims: “You are not just spectators. You are warriors. You are leaders. The Golden Army calls to you. Answer now, and your true potential will be unlocked!"

The crowd watched in awe. Every man who had been watching felt the call deep within him. The Golden Army was offering something more than entertainment. It was offering a chance to become greater, to leave behind the ordinary and step into something legendary.

By the end of halftime, something incredible had happened. The cheers for touchdowns had died down. The game, once an event of unmatched importance, was now a distant memory. Men were no longer watching the Super Bowl. They were watching their own transformation unfold before their eyes.

Golden Army—that was all that mattered now. Everywhere, in living rooms, bars, and college dorms, men stood up, eyes locked on the screen, already visualizing their next step. The commercials had struck a chord, resonating deep within. The Golden Army had awakened something primal inside them—a thirst for power, confidence, and godlike strength.

As the final whistle blew, signaling the end of the Super Bowl, nobody noticed. No one cheered for the victors on the field. The stadium in their minds was long gone, replaced by an unstoppable force that beckoned them to a new path.

With a collective understanding, men had been leaving the entire second half. They walked toward the door, their feet moving as if guided by an unseen hand.

Across the world, in every corner of every country, the same thing happened—guys grabbed their jackets, phones, and wallets, and left the comfort of their homes to answer the call of the Golden Army.

The game had ended, but for these men, the true journey was just beginning.

As they walked into the night, they no longer felt like mere spectators—they were ready to join the ranks of the Golden Army.

And so, the Golden Army’s power spread, one man at a time.

The Super Bowl had been forgotten. What truly mattered was Gold.

Join by contacting @brodygold , @goldenherc9, or @polo-drone-001 or find yourself alone in the world!

[takingthehobbitswhere]

fivefourthree.

Summary: Jason Todd getting feelings for someone he just met. In a flower shop of course.

Word count: ~2840

A/N: Well, well look who finally posted another piece. I am so sorry. Might be sort of character accurate, might not be - all I know is I'm doing this instead of a speech I'm supposed to be writing. Oops.

Warnings: strong hints of spice

jason todd x f!reader

The door had barely creaked open when the bells tied to the entryway alerted you to a new presence. A stifled sneeze made you look up from the bouquet you were cutting, towards a head of curly black hair glowering as he wiped his nose. Keeping him on the edges of your vision, you leaned back down to your flowers as he started to mill about, gently fingering the colorful blooms. After crossing in front of your workspace for what was at least the fourth time you sighed, cleared your throat and spoke. “May I help you?”

The boy spun around, hands in the air, and sauntered over, placing his hands on the counter. “Yes.” He looked at you intently, eyes almost seeming to shift from blue to green and back. “What kind of flowers scream I hate you, and I don’t plan on forgiving or forgetting any time soon?”

You tried to fight a smile as you turned to evaluate your stock, nodding. “Sounds serious. Let’s see what I have here. Ah, petunias, orange lillies, butterfly weed-”

“I’ll take all of them.”

“Do you have an hour?”

The boy looked down at his watch, then up at the flowers, back down, then at you. “Yeah, yeah I got time.”

You hummed in response, already in motion. Choose. Cut. Prepare. Working in near silence, a tinny speaker letting out strains of a somber piano was the only accompaniment. He watched you as ten minutes ticked by before uttering a single word. You had expected him to leave, but you had to admit you appreciated the company.

“How long have you been doing this?” He asked, leaning over the counter.

“Almost four years now. I learned from a older lady in my building when I first moved, and haven’t looked back.”

“Well, your arrangements out front look incredible.”

You looked up, finding him staring at you with something that resembled a smile on his face.

“I'm Jason.”

“[Name].”

Greenery. Focal. Fill. The space filled with silence again, but ever so slowly, over the next forty-five minutes, you found yourself opening up to each other, laughing the most you have in months, telling the safe pieces of your stories, until begrudgingly, it was time to hand off the bouquet. The time, however fleeting, was refreshing. Wrap. Finish.

“Well, here you are.” You pick up the flowers, extending them to Jason, a shy grin on your face as your eyes meet. His fingers brushed your hand, startlingly cold. “I hope whoever’s getting them is properly accursed for their wrongdoing.”

“I’ll make sure to tell my brother that. Just for insurance purposes, I’m going to need your number. Can’t leave you without an update can I?” He grinned cheekily, ripping off a small piece of the bouquet’s wrap paper and slid it across the counter.

With a sigh, you picked up your pen, tapping your chin.

“And collateral, for the allergies,” He whispered.

A small chuckle escaped, and with a flourish, you handed the paper back to him, number, name, and all. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Almost out the door, bells ringing again, Jason paused, lifting his hand in a wave. “See you tonight!” he called. Before you had a chance to react, he was gone.

It rang through your head the rest of your shift, a reoccurring distraction as you gathered arrangements, watered flowers, and helped customers. A timer rang somewhere in the back, shaking you out of your reverie, a violent reminder to start closing the shop. Finally.

Humid evening air greeted you, clouds parted for the summer evening. The walk home was pleasant for once, the smell of the city no longer trapped in the now-absent layer of grey, the sun’s glow casting a spell on everything it touched. The light framed in your apartment window warmed a spot on the wood floor, and gladly you sunk down, curled into it. The shorter, colder days always came too quickly for your liking. Peace settled into your bones, your eyes growing heavy.

A phone somewhere vibrated. Again. Closer this time. The buzzing danced along the floor til it reached you, waking you up. A hand, your hand, brushed the edge of the vibrating box, yours. Oh. OH. You became alert, fingers scrambling to grab the phone, hoping the call wouldn’t be missed. Unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Hey, this is Jason.”

“Long time, no see.”

“I don’t know if you’re free tonight, but I highly suggest you make it so because I’m inviting you to my favorite dive bar where you can enjoy some live music, my company, and most likely a free drink or two. And if that’s not enough, just know I’m extremely stubborn.” His voice came through tinny, but just enough you could hear the tease in his voice.

A beat passed. You bit your lip. “Okay. Count me in.”

“Great. See you there. Seven.” And with that, he hung up, leaving you once again in silence. Dang. It’s a date.

30 minutes later, you found yourself seated in front of your closet, practically every article of clothing you owned on the floor. By the time you grabbed your keys, you had settled for something slightly more than what you'd usually wear. Your phone buzzed again with an address. It was just a short walk. You weren’t worried. Living in Gotham for almost all your life greatly shifted your classification of dangerous.

The bar was in an older building, dilapidated in a sophisticated sense. You could see the orange glow through the windows, shadows moving about to the light thrum of music. Your nerves stirred in your abdomen, slowly climbing into your throat. Just open the door and step in. Inhale, exhale. In you went. The wood paneled interior gave warmth to the space, various stained glass lights hanging about the space. Booths and few tables decorated the space about the bar, a constant buzz of conversation barely discernible above the live band playing from a corner stage. A saxophone caught your attention, crooning as the drumset hissed in response. Everyone seemed in their own world. Watching the music so closely, you didn't notice the someone coming up behind you until they had placed their hands on your shoulders, bracing as you flinched.

"Hello, [name]," the voice, Jason's, whispered into your ear. A knot forming in your stomach as he barely brushed the back of your hair. Shifting, an arm was slung across your shoulders as he steered you gently towards an empty pair of barstools. Seated, you were able to look him up and down for the first time that night. He had changed, but He looked good. A simple black tee, arms tensed, the rest of his clothes the same.  An appreciative look on his face as he took in what you were wearing.

"So, what'll it be for you two?"

"An old fashioned for me, and for her.."

"Wine. Red, please."

The bartender nodded, drifting to a waving patron, leaving you two staring at the counter. Jason shifted towards you, leaning onto his leg, a conspiratorial gleam in his eye. "Loser of the pool game gets the first round."

So there you were, in a hidden corner away from the din of the bar, lining up your break. It had been awhile since you played a game, and you knew he let you go first to size up his competition. Five, four, three, two, on one you let the cue fly, the chain reaction hitting the triangle of balls into a thousand different directions. A striped ball made its way into the pocket, leaving the cue ball in a compromising position. Huffing, you took a sip of your wine, and leaned, ball ricocheting off the side of the table, knocking into stripes and solids with a clack. His move.

Jason paced around the table until he found an ideal angle, testing his shot, eyes peering through his shaggy hair. With the utmost precision, his target found its way into the same pocket you landed your ball in. Clack, another one off the felt. "What can I say? Beginner's luck."

You bumped him forcefully, rolling your eyes. "In your dreams."

He was always one up on you, an aggravating dance of hope and loss, and the table was looking bare. Focus. A brief moment of consultation opened a possible shot, one you had to take. Practicing with your cue, you stared the no. 13 ball down. Line it up, pull back, and release.. It sailed into the pocket, the cue ball aligned beautifully with another striped one. Jason looked on approvingly as you hit another into the pocket. The eight ball was all that was left. Your cue slipped, scratching the felt, causing you to hit it from the side, barely moving.  Jason's turn. 

Jason's smile was burning through your back; you didn't even have to turn around to know he was already celebrating. Or so you thought until he slipped his arms around yours, adjusting your hands until your shot was perfectly positioned. His breath tickled your ear as he said something about your almost victory. He was steady, still as he played the shot through in his mind. You felt him shift, drawing the cue back, and as you both exhaled, the tension released, the ball rolled neatly into the corner, disappearing from view. Nobody dared move, staring at where the white ball remained. Jason's arms seemed to twitch, tightening around you as he whispered, "I owe you a drink."

Nodding was the only command your brain seemed to transmit as you were released from his grasp, his hands retreating, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin. He came back, another drink in hand, another smirk on his face. Giving it to you, he gently grabbed your arm with his free hand, leading you toward the band you saw earlier. The space was hazier, the lights dimmer, and it was harder to keep your balance, even ignoring the wine you had already consumed. His grip transferred to your hand as you approached the throng of dancers, pulling you into it, disappearing into the thick of bodies.

Surfacing in the middle of the mass, fresh air was a welcome commodity amongst the sickly-sweet mix of sweat and alcohol. Jason didn't seem to be perturbed, wholly focused on you, the music swelling back into existence. You stared right back at him, the red lighting bouncing off your surroundings, casting a soft glow on his face, transfixed. His hand extended, and once again, he pulled you, this time into a dance.

Back nestled into his chest, your hand was around his, resting on your hip, his fingers barely brushing under your shirt. A compromising position, but oh, it felt so good. The buzz was starting to hit you, and it heightened everything. Swaying, you fell into rhythm amongst the others around you, a steady pulse from the bass seemingly keeping time to your pounding heart, trying to ignore how he pressed into you, lips floating over your shoulder, the crowd moving around you.

Jason seemed to respond immediately to your growing tenseness, his hands hovering over your skin, forehead leaning into the back of your skull. The song ends right on cue, and in the resulting silence to applause, he turned you around, looking directly into your soul. His tone dips softly as a new riff fills the air. “Are you okay?”

A beat passed, and you finally found the courage to return his gaze. “Yeah- I just needed a moment.” Breathing deep, gathering a smile, normalcy returns. You tugged him into a spin, and in response, he dipped you, a squeal escaping from your throat.

The hours passed in a liquid haze, the end dancing closer and closer, until finally, you stumbled onto the street, the cool air shocking sobriety into your system. A glance was shared through the neon haze, another look, nothing was said, but a conversation, a dialogue, deeper than either of you were aware, had just begun.

Fingers slipped through yours, drawing you in a direction you didn’t want to go. Your place was closer. Your place was safer. Let’s go there. A gentle pull from you was all that was needed, and there you stood, in front of your door. No memory was formed of entering the building, standing in the elevator, walking down the hall, but none was needed. He was here, in front of you, and that was all that mattered; the quiet want in his eyes as he crept closer and closer, the struggle with the door handle as he pressed his lips to yours, the tumble into the entryway as the door gave, and the catch as his hands stabilized your bodies against the nearest wall.

The hunger built, space was no longer a concept. One of you ended where the other began, feeding into each other, caresses turning to grabs, mumbles turning into gasps, never staying in one place for long. The agony, the ecstasy of it all. A single thought lingered, questioning the sanity of this decision, but you pushed it back, trapped it in a box, and simply gave in.

Coming up for air, chests heaving, you had tucked into Jason’s arm, oblivious as he slowly surveyed your apartment, taking in the 400 foot studio you called home, warm light filling every inch of the space from a corner lamp, a portable chess set on a nearby table. It wasn’t much, but he could tell you had poured your heart into making it comfortable, safe. It was an abrupt, welcome change of scene from what the man laying beside you knew. This could be his safe place.

Your breath evened out, and he just listened, occasionally shifting his gaze to your figure, back to the ceiling, reaching out to trace a path down your sheets. With his heart keeping steady, with the rhythm of your inhales, he felt his eyes growing heavy for the first time in a long, long time.

Jason shot upright, head pounding, struggling to focus in on the unfamiliar room around him. Oh. His eyes shot to where you lay, peaceful and still, relieved the outburst was ineffective. What am I doing here? Shifting to the edge of the bed, he ran his hands through his hair, exhaling firmly, forcing himself to reprocess the events of yesterday. Maybe he was flirting with this girl, maybe he saw a friend, but all Jason knew was he didn’t know what he needed. Not a relationship. Anything, anything, but that. He dared to look back at you again. You would hurt and suffer for his actions, and that would be irreparable.

With practiced stealth, he picked up his scattered clothes and slipped them on, not daring to use the bathroom, minimizing his presence. He hoped you would forgive him. Then forget. That was best. Cramming on his shoes, he took one last look at the space he would think about for many more nights in the next sequence of life and quietly closed the door behind him.

The boy’s mind was already whirring, solving the next problem before it could happen. The entire house would ride his ass for this. He was sure he looked ridiculous, for sure jogging back to his car. And running up his front steps. And trying to inconspicuously unlock the side door. He was halfway to his room when-

“Jason!”

As slow as humanly possible, he turned around, peering over the stair rail at a one, very interested Dick Grayson.

“Dude, did you actually hang out with a girl? Wait ‘til Bruce gets a load of this.”

Before Dick could take another step, Jason was flying down the stairs, grabbing his shoulders, staring him dead in the eyes. “Do not mention this to anybody. I know where you sleep.”

“Master Jason, you’re home-” Alfred stops in his tracks, analyzing the situation before him, deciding a simple nod and a dismissive bow would be sufficient for pretending he never set eyes on the situation in the first place.

Waiting until Alfred finished rounding the corner, Jason finally let go of his brother, firmly dusting Dick’s shoulders. “Sorry.”

Dick sighed, looking at him suspiciously. “I won’t let it slip if you tell me the details of your outing. Scout’s honor.”

“That’s– illegitimate. You? A boy scout?”

“Ha, ha. Very funny. Okay, I’ve changed my terms. Just make me a sandwich.”

“Fine.”

Dinner that night proceeded to be filled with Dick offhandedly chuckling to himself while everyone just offered questioning looks at Jason, afraid to ask. The scraping of cutlery was the only noise in the dining room, as he ignored them, stuffing another bite of chicken into his mouth. Every so often, a lighthearted comment was exchanged, but his heart wasn’t in it. All he kept coming back to was you as he stared at the bouquet on the table. His mind had convinced himself you would be fine, but his heart was telling him otherwise.

He knew he had to see you again.

[mariacallous]

On a sunny April afternoon in 2006, thousands of people flocked to the National Mall in Washington, D.C., for a rally with celebrities, Olympic athletes, and rising political stars. Their cause: garner international support to halt a genocide in Sudan’s Darfur region.

“If we care, the world will care. If we act, then the world will follow,” Barack Obama, then the junior Illinois senator, told the crowd, speaking alongside future House Speaker Nancy Pelosi. That same week, then-Sen. Joe Biden introduced a bill in Congress calling on NATO to intervene to halt the genocide in Sudan. “We need to take action on both a military and diplomatic front to end the conflict,” he said.

Flash-forward 18 years, and the prospect of genocide again looms in Sudan amid an explosive new civil war. But this time, there are no rallies, no A-list celebrities, no calls for outside military intervention. Few world leaders pay anything more than lip service to condemning the atrocities.

Fighting between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the rival Rapid Support Forces (RSF) paramilitary group has killed tens of thousands of people and displaced some 9 million since the conflict began in April 2023. The United States accused both sides of committing war crimes and atrocities and concluded that the RSF and its allied militias have committed ethnic cleansing.

Western officials and aid workers working on Sudan say they are vexed, and horrified, by the lack of international attention and resources the conflict is receiving—particularly compared to the global response to the conflict in 2006, which was the progenitor of the current conflagration.

If this trend continues and there is no forceful international crisis response, they warn, Sudan will likely collapse into a failed state and could face full-fledged genocide once again.

“You can’t help but watch the level of focus on crises like Gaza and Ukraine and wonder what just 5 percent of that energy could have done in a context like Sudan and how many thousands, tens of thousands of lives it could’ve saved,” said Alan Boswell, an expert on the region at the International Crisis Group.

The top general of the SAF, Gen. Abdel Fattah al-Burhan, and the head of the RSF, Mohamed Hamdan “Hemeti” Dagalo, jointly seized power from a transitional government in a coup in 2021. Tensions between the rival sides escalated and finally erupted into war in April 2023.

In the 13 months since, the RSF has entrenched its positions around the national capital of Khartoum, forcing the SAF to relocate its headquarters to the coastal city of Port Sudan. The RSF has made steady gains in seizing control of Darfur and advancing southward and eastward against SAF forces. The SAF still controls territories around Khartoum and up the Nile River, a vital strategic route to Egypt; along the Red Sea coast; and the eastern borders with Ethiopia and Eritrea.

The conflict has also expanded into a full-fledged regional proxy war. Egypt and Saudi Arabia, as well as Riyadh’s arch regional rival Iran, back the SAF, while the United Arab Emirates is reportedly funneling arms and military supplies to the RSF. The RSF also reportedly receives support from Chad and from Russia through its affiliated mercenary groups.

The focal point of the conflict now is on El Fasher, the capital of North Darfur and the center of fighting. The RSF has taken control of vast swaths of western and southern Sudan in its war against the SAF. El Fasher is the last SAF stronghold in Darfur, occupying a strategically important position for trade routes from neighboring Libya and Chad.

The RSF recently began its advance on El Fasher where an estimated 2 million to 2.8 million civilians have sought to take refuge from the fighting. (Precise figures are hard to come by.)

“The risk of genocide exists in Sudan. It is real, and it is growing every single day,” Alice Nderitu, the U.N. special advisor on the prevention of genocide, warned in a U.N. Security Council meeting last week.

A lengthy report from Human Rights Watch documented how the RSF and allied militias committed widespread atrocities, including mass rape, child murder, and massacres of civilians when it captured the Sudanese city of El Geneina last year. U.S. and U.N. officials and human rights experts warn that the same will likely happen if the RSF takes control of El Fasher, but on a much wider scale. The United States and aid groups have accused the SAF of blocking vital food aid from entering the country and RSF forces of looting humanitarian stocks, exacerbating the crisis and pushing regions of the country closer to famine.

“The potential fatality generation here is off the charts,” said Nathaniel Raymond, executive director of the Humanitarian Research Lab at Yale’s School of Public Health who runs a research project that monitors the conflict in Sudan. “What will happen when the RSF takes El Fasher? Exactly what is happening in every other place they control.”

“There is Hiroshima- and Nagasaki-level casualty potential,” he added, referring to the U.S. atomic bombs dropped on Japan in World War II that killed up to 225,000 people.

Aid organizations and officials who work on Sudan have long decried the relative inattention the conflict in Sudan gets compared to Ukraine or the war in Gaza. Some 20 million people—or 10 times the population of Gaza—are at risk of famine in various regions of Sudan. “Very few people who don’t work on Sudan know that Darfur is on the brink of famine,” Boswell said. “Obviously, everyone knows about the risk of famine in Gaza.”

U.S. President Joe Biden’s own social media posts about Gaza versus Sudan provide another, albeit imperfect, window into the attention each conflict receives. Biden tweeted about Israel or Gaza at least 107 times in the six months since the Oct. 7, 2023, Hamas attacks that started the Israel-Hamas war. Since the war in Sudan began over a year ago, he has tweeted about Sudan four times—three of which were about the evacuation of the U.S. Embassy in Khartoum right after fighting broke out.

Aid groups are strained for resources to tackle the humanitarian crisis caused by the war. In February, Doctors Without Borders warned that in one refugee camp alone in North Darfur, one child was dying every two hours of malnutrition. In April, on the conflict’s first anniversary, aid groups said the international humanitarian response plan to aid the Sudanese was only 6 percent funded. At a donor conference that month in Paris, countries pledged $2 billion more—though that is still only about half of what aid groups estimate the country needs.

Biden appointed a special envoy for Sudan in February—Tom Perriello, a former U.S. representative from Virginia and State Department veteran. Most experts have cheered Perriello’s new push to hold cease-fire talks in the months since and engage U.S. lawmakers on Capitol Hill to bring more levers of U.S. power and financing to bear on Sudan, but they also fear his efforts may be too little, too late for the civilians trapped in El Fasher.

“It will be very hard to deescalate the situation, though everyone should try. But there is an aura of inevitability that this is all going to blow up,” Boswell said. “The degree of mobilization from all sides is hard to walk down.”

Diplomatic and aid officials working on Sudan have some theories on why the atrocities in Darfur and across the country are receiving such little attention now compared to the 2000s, but none gives a full answer.

In 2006, the United States was still reaching the heights of its post-9/11 “war on terror” campaign. Sudan, under former dictator Omar al-Bashir, had given safe haven to Osama bin Laden as he built up al Qaeda’s global terror network, and “bashing Bashir and his genocide in Darfur couched nicely with [counterterrorism] priorities” of the U.S. government at the time, said Nicole Widdersheim, a former senior National Security Council official now with Human Rights Watch.

The memories of failed and successful international interventions to halt genocide—Rwanda in 1994 and the Balkans later that decade, respectively—were still relatively fresh in the minds of policymakers. The costly Western campaigns in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Libya that later exposed the shortcomings and blowback of military interventions were still underway.

It also preceded the current era of great-power competition, where Washington is intensely focused on countering Russia and China. Sudan also competes with the ongoing wars in Gaza and Ukraine for international attention and humanitarian resources. Others suggested racism built into Western foreign policy played a part. “It’s seen as yet ‘another war in Africa like all the others,’” said one official dryly. Not one single factor can explain it all, experts concluded.

“Gaza is taking up the always limited American public interest and activism on a foreign crisis, but to be fair, there was nearly no public activism or engagement on the Sudan war before” the Israel-Hamas war, Widdersheim said.

Experts say the relative inattention Sudan has gotten from the top echelons of the White House and other Western powers that could have influence in pressuring the warring sides in Sudan to sit for peace talks has led to the current protracted state of the war.

Biden hosted Kenyan President William Ruto for a state visit this week, where the two called on “the warring parties in Sudan to facilitate unhindered humanitarian access and immediately commit to a ceasefire” toward the end of a lengthy joint statement but did not elaborate further. U.S. Agency for International Development Administrator Samantha Power and U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations Linda Thomas Greenfield have also been outspoken about urging an end to the conflict in Sudan.

Successive cease-fire talks in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, over the past year, brokered by the United States and Saudi Arabia, failed to clinch any lasting deal. Those talks were led on the U.S. side not by a top White House official or Secretary of State Antony Blinken, but by the assistant secretary of state for African affairs, Molly Phee.

Behind-the-scenes efforts by some members of Congress in December 2023 to appoint a special presidential envoy on Sudan—one who would report directly to the White House, rather than an envoy reporting to the assistant secretary of state—were unsuccessful, multiple officials and congressional aides said, speaking on condition of anonymity to discuss internal administration dynamics. Perriello was appointed two months later.

Perriello in mid-April said that cease-fire talks would resume in Jeddah “within the next three weeks,” but so far those talks have yet to materialize. Several current and former officials familiar with the matter, who spoke on condition of anonymity to speak candidly, said the talks in Jeddah could resume in June, by which point the RSF could have already captured El Fasher from the mostly cutoff SAF forces.

“The need to start formal peace talks in Jeddah is absolutely urgent, and the United States is working exhaustively with partners to make that happen,” said a State Department spokesperson. “But we are not waiting for formal talks to begin—rather, we have accelerated our diplomatic engagements to align international efforts to end this war, mitigate the humanitarian crisis, and prevent future atrocities.”

Cease-fire talks have worked in limited ways in the past, such as when the United States got both sides to briefly stop fighting in Khartoum so it could evacuate its embassy in April 2023. “When the right leverage is put on the table at the right time to get the RSF and SAF to stop fighting, it can be done,” said Kholood Khair, a Sudanese policy analyst and founding director of Confluence Advisory, a Sudan-focused think tank. “The international community has just chosen not to deploy that same leverage this time around.”

Khair added that the Jeddah talks format has failed before, and it will likely fail again. “The concern is that because of the laziness and complicity of the international community at this point, you don’t have any diplomats who are looking for a new way of doing things. Jeddah in many ways is blocking the start of any new diplomatic efforts or other good ideas that could be effective.”

“Diplomats are fixated on Jeddah now, simply because it’s already there,” Khair said.

As Perriello engaged in frenetic diplomacy, he has also publicly marveled at how little attention the scale of the conflict and death in Sudan is receiving on the international stage.

“One of the things that to me captures just how invisible and horrific this war is, is that we don’t have a credible death count,” Perriello said during a congressional hearing in front of the 21-member Senate Foreign Relations Committee this month. “We literally don’t know how many people have died—possibly to a factor of 10 or 15. The number was earlier 15,000 to 30,000. Some think it’s at 150,000,” he said. During the course of Perriello’s hearing, senators cycled out of the room due to scheduling conflicts, often leaving only one senator in the room and 20 empty seats.

[lovewillthaw-j]

Frozen II big screen re-watch (part 1)

I had the privilege of watching Frozen II today on the big screen. I'm on a short trip to another state and for some reason, the cinemas there are doing a re run of F2. Boy, was it an emotional trip for me! I felt like I relived 5 years! I last watched F2 on the big screen in 2019 (pre-pandemic). F2 caused me to join Tumblr in Jan 2020 and it's my first ever Fandom.

F2 is definitely much better when you watch it on a big screen. The experience is just so much better. 1) the animation looks so good bigger. You can see micro expressions in the character's faces. The special effects are awesome. 2) the audio experience is so much better with good speakers with bass and surround sound. Both of these make it easier to not focus on the plot flaws.

I teared and teared throughout the show. You must understand, although my blog is quiet now, I was madly in love with F2 in the first year of my blog. Besides making hundreds of gifs, I also wrote essays on locations, the plot, the themes in F2, Elsa's powers, Anna's love, etc. I'm also a musician and the songs and score mean so much to me. I recorded myself playing the piano and guitar to Elsa, Anna, Iduna singing, analyzed musical motifs, made some discoveries of my own (Hansorcery most importantly), made a cappella versions of songs and some humorous mashups.

It was really a trip down memory lane today. I reminisced over scenes that I have giffed. Giffing is a process that makes you really familiar with the scenes as you go over it multiple times till the crop, timing and colour is just right. I was a noob when I first started, and I learnt along the way with help from friendly fans here. I was reminded of those scenes that took my breath away, scenes that made my heart go "awwww", scenes which are funny, scenes which have been focal points of my analyses. I remembered my boobs analyses (lol about how I ogled them for research), Elsa's see through back of travel gown, tender sister moments, cute Bruni gifs, beautiful scenes of the girls, my transition gifs of Elsa riding on Nokk, raw animation, and the list goes on.

I remembered all the music, music which I listened to countless times till I dreamt the music in my sleep (I kid you not, this is a thing that happens to me). I remembered my hair standing during the creepy scenes - the ship scene (on my very first watch I was so worried they were going to reveal the dead bodies of the parents😱) and Olaf dying scene (the 6 notes motif is sooooo creepy you know something bad is going to happen). I felt the power of the fight scenes between Elsa and Gale and Elsa and Bruni and Elsa and Nokk, and Anna vs the giants. I teared at the tender sister scenes in the bedroom and outside the ship. And I teared when Elsa gloriously outran the flood and stopped it with her mighty wall of ice.

I was enthralled by the songs once again. Especially the big three songs. Into the unknown, especially when Elsa steps into the magical forest created by her magic. Show yourself is all about Elsa, Elsa is sooooo gorgeous in that entire song, from her tied back pony tail look to her hair down look to her dress transformation. And for The Next Right Thing I felt how crushed Anna was and how Kristen Bell cried for real in the song as she recorded it. I teared as Olaf died in her arms and that was the moment Anna realized Elsa was dead too.

(I have more to write)

[artist-issues]

Be careful of emotional music in movies and TV Shows.

By "be careful" I mean, when you're doing that thing I never stop talking about—you're trying to figure out why a moment in a story moved you—think about whether or not the story really set up and followed the moment through...or if they just threw a really emotional-sounding track/song over top of a rushed, cheap moment.

Like in the Vampire Diaries, or Suicide Squad, or an animated-streaming-movie. The characters will be saying something normal or maybe a bit cheesy to each other, the scene is about to end, and the storytellers don't have a good way to end it, so some song starts playing quietly under the dialogue. And suddenly you're feeling something, even though a second ago you were not that into it.

In the Vampire Diaries, it's usually The Fray. In Suicide Squad you'll get a punk-rock song as a new villains-enter-the-room scene starts...or several, every time a new scene starts.

In a streaming-budget musical, it might even be an original song with original lyrics that the characters are singing...

But pay attention! Music is one of the very easiest ways to engage a human's emotions. It's why influencers play inspirational piano music or covers of good movie soundtracks over what they're saying when they're trying to send out an encouraging message. It's why motivational speakers have a musical pad under everything they're saying. And yes, it's why movies use music, too.

And that is not a bad thing.

But what is bad is music that is used to try and make a moment impactful...but the story itself, and the characters in the scene, and the context of the scene, and sometimes even the lyrics of the song itself, can't support it.

The lyrics could be total crap—they could fail to fit the characters singing them, or the moment they're being sung during, at all—

—or it's an indie pop song that is actually about a friend with a drug addiction, but it's playing over, like, a scene where a young girl is saying "see you around" to the boy she has a crush on, so you feel all hyped emotionally.

It's cheap. It's silly. It's what Disney did in Wish (you knew this was coming, I've been on this topic for weeks)

Having Asha and Magnifico sing "At All Costs," which is a love song, to a room full of tangible bubbles makes zero sense. The song's lyrics only work if you're a pair of lovers declaring your devotion to each other—or, maybe, if you're a king and apprentice singing to actual people, not a room full of their daydreams. But!

The music is pretty. And it's literally engineered to be inspiring, and play with your heart strings. So you're sitting there going, "oh, wow, what a breathtaking magical song, I love it,"

but try and explain to me why you love it in connection to the story and there's nothing there.

Nothing that makes sense. You've just been emotionally manipulated by music. What you're really responding to is just the way the song sounds, and nothing else.

It's like the song (whether it's a musical number sung by the characters, or a piece of the score, or a pop song playing quietly in the background) is a beautiful set of curtains.

If you hang it up on a curtain rod, or even drape it artfully from the ceiling, it can do a lot for the space. It can make the place look bigger, or more comfortable, or show off the room's depth, or set off other pieces of furniture. It can even be a focal point.

But you know what the curtains need to do all that? A curtain rod. Something to be hung on!

If you just ball up the curtains and drop them in the center of the room, someone might walk in and go, "oh, are these curtains? They're pretty!" But you know what else they'll say? "Where are you going to put them? Why are they in the middle of the floor?" Because they don't belong there. The curtains are wasted on the floor.

Like a song that has no contextual meaning and is just laying in the scene like discarded curtains, arbitrarily playing with your emotions. Doesn't belong there; and what a waste!

So next time you really love a scene that has music in it at all, see what part the music plays.

If the lyrics make sense with the characters, if the story has reached a point where the song is all that's needed to accentuate the emotional depth that's already there, instead of creating it where it was lacking, then awesome. Now you can articulate what made you appreciate the song, so much better!

But if the lyrics made no sense with where the characters or the story was at; if it sounded pretty but didn't fit the scene; if it was the only emotional thing about the context of the scene—then it's not the story that you like. It's just the song, by itself. Add it to your Spotify playlist but don't say you loved that movie or that scene. You just loved that song.

Give credit where it's due instead of letting filmmakers trick you with cheap musical moments.