#fucking moan and whine and have fucking drawing room anguish

[muiromem]

You know, it would be a LOT easier to explain to doctors where my pain is on my body

A: If the pain wasn’t in my BACK and therefore impossible for me to SEE or properly POINT TO with my short fucking arms

B: If every diagram of the human body available to me wasn’t made for TALL PEOPLE and therefore way harder guess where I should be pointing in reference to my own short fucking body

C: If the doctors examining me would just PUSH HARDER ALREADY. I literally have so much radiating pain, your fucking butterfly taps of “does it hurt here?” are NOT HELPING. You need to DIG IN THERE or I can’t TELL YOU WHAT HURTS MOST.

[casspurrjoybell-28]

The Alpha's Addiction - Chapter 12a

*Warning Adult Content*

Nightmare - Part 1 - Kao

I lay in bed awake in the early hours of the morning, Cyrus's offer from the other day replaying in my mind.

'I could... train you, if you would like.'

He had sounded so earnest.

It's such a contrast from Zacan, who confined me to his room most of the time.

I wasn't even allowed to shift since our mating ceremony.

The Blood Pack deemed it 'improper' for Omegas, especially mated ones, to indulge in our wolf's desires, claiming it would lead to disobedience and that confining us to solely our human form would keep us tame.

So the fact that Cyrus is even suggesting that I learn to fight is insane to me.

And I can't help the nagging thought 'most likely influenced by my wolf' in the back of my mind that I should have taken his offer.

I could learn to defend myself, defend Oliver.

I could finally gain some agency on my own and not only be able to rely on my smarts.

I would never let what had been done to me back at the Blood Pack ever happen again.

But the issue is Cyrus.

I can't continue to be around him.

My wolf is already antsy, whining with the need to be near it's mate.

But my wolf's needs don't align with mine.

I don't need him and I never will.

"M-Mama," I hear a pained moan from my son coming from beside me and my head whips to him in worry.

As I'm about to ask what's wrong, I realize he's sleeping.

His face is contorted in an anguished expression, eyes scrunched closed with tension.

"You're... you're killing my Mama," he chokes out, hands reaching out in the air as he claws at something that isn't there.

I reach a hand out to his shoulder, trying to shake him awake but he thrashes at my touch, crying out.

"I-I killed him. I'm bad. I'm a bad pup," he suddenly screams, eyes shooting open as he gasps, chest rising and falling in terror.

"Baby, baby."

I pull him into my arms, clutching him close to my chest.

"It's okay, Oli. Mama's here. I'm here."

He sobs in my shirt, clutching the fabric as his entire body shakes.

I bury my face into his soft curls, feeling my own eyes become watery as the despair in his sobs seeks into me.

My poor pup.

I was able to calm Oliver down by ten, meaning he missed the morning portion of school.

However, he didn't want to skip it entirely and I thought it would be a good idea for him to go and get his mind off the nightmare.

I'm still so worried for him, though.

I want to confide in Morgan but there's no way to tell him about what Oliver did without drawing suspicion.

No one knows where or what kind of situation we came from yet and I'd like to keep it that way.

But I'm still going to have to find a way to help my little boy through this.

I start the peaceful walk back to the Pack House from the school, enjoying the serene silence of nature and wind when a whistle rings out.

My eyes dart to the source, two male Alphas leaning against the outside wall of a pub that my path home approaches.

I can't say I'm not used to this.

The Alphas back at the Blood Pack were so depraved this type of thing happened to me whenever I walked outside. 

It seems no matter where you are, even in a pack that grants Omegas equality and freedom, these types of sleazebags exist.

As I near, they continue to leer at me, eyes raking over my figure.

I regret what I wore today immediately.

I usually go out of my way to choose clothing that hides my Omega-endowed curves out of habit because there's nothing I hate more than the attention of pervs like these ones but today I just threw on whatever I could find.

A plain white shirt and some beige trousers which ended up being a bit form-fitting.

Fuck Alphas.

I glare at them, not able to help making an obscene gesture in their direction.

They do not like that. 

"Bitch," one of them hisses, the other pushing himself off the wall to come toward me. 

"Don't you fucking touch me," I snap back, trying to seem fierce despite the twinge of fear in my chest.

I nervously glance around for anyone who might be able to diffuse the situation but the street is deserted. 

"You're that Omega Cyrus brought in some weeks ago, aren't you?" the other sneers, joining his friend in approaching me.

"People been saying you're his mate."

"Leroy, you're forgetting something. He's got a fucking pup."

Leroy's bushy eyebrows shoot up, a dry laugh bursting out of him.

"A pup? Well, fuck. You must've had your fun getting around wherever you were before this."

It's nothing I haven't heard before.

I cross my arms, annoyance growing in me at their audacity to harass me and waste my time like this.

"You're blocking my way. Would you please move?" I say through gritted teeth. 

When they don't I try to go around them and they shift to stop me.

"Where you rushing off to? Cyrus waiting?"

I clench my fists.

"No."

"Then entertain us for a while. How'd you get knocked up so young?" Leroy's friend asks. 

Oh, that's fucking it. 

"Fuck off, asshole. Does that micro-penis of yours get turned on by bothering Omegas in the street?"

His face darkens, lips curling threateningly over pointed canines.

"What did you just say?"

He lunges towards me but Leroy holds him back. 

"Careful, Rex. If he's with Cyrus, we don't want..."

"At least I'm not a rude whore. If Cyrus really is your mate, you're not worthy of him. You, as our fucking Luna? You think anyone in this pack would accept that? Cyrus'll get tired of you soon enough, bitch," his shouting is sure to attract attention soon, so I take my chance while Leroy is restraining him to make my escape.

I dart behind a shop, using an alleyway to find my way to the woods.

I run for as long as I can, until I'm coughing in a fit of exhaustion.

I know they're not following after me but still I run.

I hate it.

I hate how they can make me feel so weak and inferior, just like that.

How they think it's their right to berate me.

I don't even fucking know them.

Yet, my mere existence conjured up so much malice in their souls.

Who knows what would have happened if it were a more secluded area or it was night?

I should be thanking my lucky stars I got out of that unscathed. 

I should never have riled them up but I just had to say something.

It makes me so angry.

So fucking angry. 

With determination in my step, I march back to the Pack House, knowing what I have to do.

I go up flights of steps once inside to the room I know belongs to him.

The man that is my mate. 

I knock on the door once and am immediately answered.

"I want you to teach me how to fight."

[hard-to-be-the-bard]

boss bitch (Helmut Zemo x Reader) NSFW

Warnings: Smut, alcohol, AFAB Reader, orgasm denial, daddy kink, unprotected sex, choking, thigh-riding.

“Are you sure you want to be drinking all of the good stuff?” 

You glanced up at the voice, seeing Zemo leaning across the doorway, watching you with an accusatory glance towards the bottle of whiskey you were holding in one hand, having poured half a glassful already.

He moves from where he’s standing, coming closer, using the countertop to rest on this time, instead of the doorframe.

At this moment in time it’s quiet, Sam and Bucky are already asleep on the floor above, and you’re almost wondering why Zemo’s awake, but then again, he did seem to appear in rooms when you least expected him to, he was almost impressively quiet.

“May I?” He asks, gesturing towards the bottle you’re holding, and you nod, sliding it across the counter towards him.

“It’s hardly like you have to ask, it’s your stuff” You muttered. He gave a chuckle at this, which you would of missed if the room wasn’t so quiet. 

You took a sip of your drink, the burning liquid going down the back of your throat as you felt Zemo’s eyes on you. You placed it back down on the countertop and sighed.

Zemo moves again, changing from leaning on the counter to actually sitting down, on the opposite side you’re on, his eyes not leaving you once, before he speaks again.

“So what makes you feel like drinking at such an hour?” He questions.

“I could ask you the same question” You say, nodding towards his own glass, and he tilts his head in thought for a moment.

“I couldn’t sleep”  You answer before he has a chance to speak, and then you gesture towards the shelf filled with various other bottles.

“So I decided why not” You laugh to yourself. Zemo nods, and cradles his glass in his hands.

“Seems like we are both in the same predicament” He responds, lifting his glass in mock cheers, before bringing it to his lips, again, watching you as he did so. Your eyes watching the way his lips wrapped around the edge of the glass, and you turned away, clearing your throat slightly. 

When you turn back, he’s smirking almost, an amused expression on his face.

It’s almost painfully difficult to ignore the way your stomach churns when he looks at you, especially when he watches you so closely. 

Sam and Bucky would be disappointed if not upset with you if they found out that you had feelings for the man who technically broke up the avengers.

But there was something different in the way he watched you, a softer gaze to the one he gives Sam, or Bucky, he’s almost sizing them up, wondering what their next move will be, always thinking ahead.

You don’t realise Zemo has even moved until he’s sliding into the seat next to you. Your head turning sharply as his elbow brushes against yours gently.

You inhaled softly, before breathing out again. Zemo turns his head towards you

“Is something wrong?” He asks, and you shake your head, before you down the rest of your drink.

“I’m fine” You assure him, and he’s still watching you, constantly. You wished he wouldn’t, almost squirming under his gaze. 

He knows your nervous, he’d be an idiot if he couldn’t tell that much, but it was satisfying for him, watching the way you tried to pretend nothing was wrong when he was sat ever so close to you, arms brushing for a slight moment, and the way you tensed up.

You’re scolding yourself mentally, he’s practically a terrorist you tell yourself. A few glances and gentle touches won’t change that.

You feel a hand on your arm and when you turn to look at Zemo his face is close to yours. You look down at your arm, and see his hand resting on top of your wrist.

“What are you thinking liebling?” He asks.

“Nothing I-” You can’t stop looking at his mouth, and you force yourself to turn away, until the hand on your wrist moves to your chin, tilting your head back towards Zemo.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me” Zemo whispers, and you shake your head

“I’m not scared of you” He watches you for a moment, his thumb running across the underside of your lip, your eyes almost close at the contact, as you move closer towards him in your seat unconsciously.

He chuckles at that, low and soft, tilting his head to examine you further. He moves closer to you, so that his lips are level with yours, and you’re waiting for him to to move, do anything other than just watch you.

And then he kisses you. His hands moving to rest on your waist as he pulls you closer towards him, so that you’re actually on his lap, it’s an almost awkward manoeuvre from your chair to his knee, without breaking the kiss once.

All you can think about is the way his lips are moving against yours, the soft grip of his fingers digging into the flesh of your waist.

His leg moves upwards, and you almost stiffen at the sudden contact of his thigh against you, and he pulls away once again, eyes on you, waiting for you to push him away or give any sign that this isn’t what you want.

But it is, and you respond by kissing him again, your hands pressed against his chest as he kisses you back, harder this time, more desperate, pressing open mouthed kisses against you. 

Zemo moves away, his mouth now moving across your neck, as he switches between nipping and sucking on the skin. It almost draws a moan from you, yet you bite your lip before any sound can escape.

The hands on your waist shift your body forward, and he moves his leg upwards again, creating friction between the two of you, and you suck in a gasp of air.

“Shit-” You mumble into his shoulder, as he continues to move you against his thigh, and his leg almost bounced up against you, unrelenting with his pace. Continuing to grind his leg into your cunt. He watched you, pleased with the way your eyes fluttered shut, and your mouth opened and closed slightly in breathy pants for air. 

You moved to bury your head in his shoulder, but his hand stopped you.

“I want you to look at me” Zemo instructs, as his hands move from your waists, allowing you to continue your actions at your own pace, as his fingers worked quickly on removing your shirt, glancing at you for approval before he swiftly unbuttoned it, pulling it off you, and then making quick work of your bra, throwing it onto the ground below the two of you.

His hands moved to cup your breasts, a finger and thumb flicking one of your nipples to get a grasp of your reaction, to which you respond by pushing your breast further into his hand, desperate for him to keep going. His head lowered and he pressed a kiss to the top of your breast, before moving his hands again, around your waist and he quickly picked you up, and you made a noise at the sudden movement, as he placed you onto the top of the counter, pushing your legs aside to stand between them.

A hand wrapped around your throat gently as he kissed you, and you could taste the whiskey on his lips still, and his hand got tighter, as yours gripped onto the fabric of his shirt, making pleading noises into his mouth.

“God take it off” You gasped, breathless from the kiss, tugging at his shirt. Zemo raises a brow at you before complying, shrugging the fabric over his head and discarding it onto the floor along with your clothes.

His hands were quick to move down to your pants, pushing a hand under the waistband and pulling them down in a swift motion, removing your underwear at the same time, leaving you completely exposed to him.

Zemo’s fingers moved quickly, pressing up against your clit almost immediately, and circling it against it watching as you shuddered at the contact. He moved closer, so that he could kiss you while he continued to touch you, and you moaned against his mouth as he continued to circle his finger against your clit. 

His other hand moved back up to your neck at the exact time he pushed a digit into you, and your body jolted further, in an anguished attempt to make more contact with Zemo. 

“You’re so good for me” He breathed out, pressing kisses into your neck, starting to nip at the flesh again, making sure he left marks for the morning to come,  while adding another finger, and increasing his pace.

Your legs shuddered and your hand moved to grip around the one around your neck, pleas and moans leaving your mouth as you felt your orgasm building up, you felt hot and exhausted already, Zemo’s hand tightening around your throat, helping build up to the climax even more

“Fuck Zemo I-” And before you can reach the top of your climax he pulls his fingers out completely, and you whine at him almost childishly, begging for the contact to come back again.

“You don’t get to come until I’m inside you” He murmurs, pressing a kiss against your mouth as your hands reach for his fly, deprived of the skin on skin contact that you crave from him so much. 

There was a moment of silence, where you pulled off his belt, and he pushed his own trousers down to speed up the process.

He was at his limit at this point, allowing you a moment to run a hand over the tip of his cock as he let out a soft groan at the contact.

He moves closer to you to position the tip of his cock at your entrance, and you arch your back as you feel him push into you slowly. He brings a hand to pull your leg behind his back as he pushes further into you, and your wraps around his arm again, digging into the flesh, and you think to yourself that it’s definitely going to leave marks in the morning.

His hips snap forward, meeting yours and he stretches you out so well, and you can feel him filling you entirely, but god it feels so good.

And he’s fucking you hard, yet with a delicacy that you’ve never seen before, your head is lulling back slightly as a string of curses leave your mouth, you can feel him fully as he shifts back and then thrusts into you harshly again, and the hand on your thigh is squeezing hard enough to bruise you.

“Fuck daddy-” You whimper, and you don’t know where it came from, neither does Zemo, but it definitely spurs him on

“You such a good girl” He murmurs, picking up his speed, and you whimper from the pleasure coursing through your body, a hand goes to the side of the countertop and grips the edge, the glass that was near you has fallen off the side now, and shattered on the floor, but neither of you care, you’re both lost in the feeling of each other, as he continues to bury himself inside you, your toes curl at the sensation of him thrusting in all the way, and you continue to let out a stream of cries and whimpers, moaning from the way he’s fucking you.

You feel your climax building again and you know it won’t be long before you come undone. Zemo leans down to kiss you again, as a grunt of pleasure leaves his mouth, his fingers grip tighter around your thigh, and the hand on your neck loosens slightly. He thrusts harder than before and you watch his face contort as he removes the hand from your neck and begins to circle your clit, it’s too much for you and with a whimper and a cry of his name you’re climaxing over his cock, he feels your walls tighten and he with a grunt he’s reaching his peak quickly after you, spilling his seed into your cunt.

He’s breathing against your neck as you lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder. He doesn’t move, not yet, until you slide your leg down from around his waist..

He pulls back, sliding out of you with ease, and watches with some sort of satisfaction and his cum drips out of you slowly. Your arms fall down to your side slowly, and he glances towards your slumped figure.

“Come, let’s get you cleaned up”

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Touch it for Real, Part 5

Genre: Humor / Fluff / Eventual Smut

Warnings: OMG they were roommates / slice of life / slow burn / mutual pining / crude humor / cursing / virgin!baek / idiots to lovers / mention of feet

Characters: Baekhyun X You/Female Reader

Description: You teach Baekhyun how to date. (Basically the Get You Alone M/V)

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5, Part 6

Baekhyun was trembling. His hands were actually shaking so much each time he tried to type into the keyboard of his phone he hit the wrong letters and the typos rendered his message impossible for even the autocorrect to guess what he was trying to say.

“Just — ugh — just give me a regular keyboard for fuck’s sake,” he was grumbling to himself, “my hands wont stop shaking. I can’t. I can’t do this.”

He tossed the phone with force away from him and it landed face down on the carpet across the living room.

“No. I refuse,” he was staring over at the phone on the floor with a shell shocked aura about him, “just forget it. I’ve changed my mind. I can’t. I won’t!”

You’d given him a homework assignment an hour ago.

Ask a girl out on a date.

He’d been sitting on this sofa with his phone in his hands, writing, deleting, rewriting and deleting, again and again, into the text message conversation he had going with Mia.

It had been going pretty well with Mia actually. You’d been handing him the reins more and more and you both celebrated together with a single glass of wine the night he’d had his first actual phone conversation with her. Baekhyun was a lightweight and usually refused to drink more than a few sips of alcohol but he’d gone for the chilled bottle in the fridge and poured it into two glasses and handed one of them to you and lifted his own into the air. He did not wait for you to acknowledge his toast though. He just downed the contents of his glass with a wince on his face in a single go, slammed the empty glass down onto the counter roughly and stormed out of the kitchen toward his bedroom. You sipped your glass and counted it as a shared celebration.

His phone call lasted for 3 minutes and 32 seconds and he managed to tell one awkward joke that elicited audible laughter from the girl. You knew because you sat on the couch beside him with your ear pulled up as close to the phone as you could manage, trying to hear everything that happened. You’d let him know you were here to intervene if something went wrong but honestly you were sure he would do well on his own. And honestly, he was about to do well on his own, despite how awkward and very nervous his voice was.

They had gotten past the introductions at least twice when he briefly forgot what came after “hello” and simply said it a second time. She at least said it twice too and the awkward pause that came after that went on for too long when you held up the index card in your hand and pointed with your finger to the question you had written down.

“Uhh...so h-how...umm...how are — I mean, what are you up to?”

You couldn't make out her response, but whatever she said pulled an interested hum from the back of his throat and he made a quick witted remark that had her giggling in response.

You could definitely make out the sounds of her laughter and you could instantly see the change on his face when it happened. You saw the brightness form inside his eyes and he turned to look at you with a surprised expression as he lifted a finger to point at the phone he held in his hand.

His eyes were wide with something in between amazement and panic and he mouthed the words ‘she’s laughing’ at you and you nodded enthusiastically in response.

Unfortunately a few seconds after the joke he accidentally dropped the phone and it took a wild bounce, landing somewhere under the couch. He couldn’t find it for two whole minutes and when he finally found it, he made up some excuse about having to go because he smelled something burning.

He stared at the phone until the screen turned black and he didn’t move when you rubbed a soothing hand over his back.

“That went pretty good,” you offered. Baekhyun grunted and turned toward the kitchen for the celebratory toast.

Since that night, (you know the one) you’d intentionally taken on a more supportive teacher role in this project. You vowed to keep yourself involved as much as he needed and you swore you could keep your own selfishness from impeding his progress. The way you had been acting had been unfair and he was too good to you for him to deserve anything less than your very best.

You had made a promise to Baekhyun and then you made a promise to yourself to follow through on that promise. You would move Heaven and Earth to help him reach his goal because he deserved it and seeing him happy would be enough to get you through anything that came your way.

You were fine.

No really, you were completely fine.

He was moaning.

You sat on the couch beside him with your foot propped up on the coffee table as you carefully applied the second coat of polish to your toenails. You’d become quite the expert at applying polish to your nails during bumpy situations. Sitting next to the man who flailed and squirmed beside you on this sofa was commonplace and simply no big deal.

You could probably do this during an earthquake.

His moaning turned into much louder moaning and he threw himself back onto the arm of the couch dramatically and in protest of the unfairness of your assignment.

“Buuuug,” he whined through his nose, drawing it out like a little kid.

You’d just finished your pinky toe when his foot pushed up against your thigh.

Your aim was quick and you reached over and grabbed his foot by the heel as you pivoted in place.

“Be still,” you said calmly and you held his foot in place as you applied the bright red polish to his big toenail. You often did his toes to match your own because it made his toes look adorable and he wore socks everywhere he went anyway so he didn’t mind what you did to amuse yourself.

You moved quickly, dabbing carefully over each of his nails until they were all painted to match yours. You blew air over them to dry them, being thankful you’d invested in the 60 second polish.

“Buuu-hu-hu-hu-uuug,” he moaned harder, wiggling his hips into the fit he was throwing and closing his eyes to sell you on the absolute anguish he was in. “Bug, I just don't think I can do it. Can we do something else? I don't even know what to do on a date. What if she says no? Oh god, what if she says yes, I’m going to puke. Do you want to see me puke? Because I am going to puke.”

You tapped a hand lightly over the top of his finished foot and pointed to the other one and after a few moments he shifted, giving in to what you asked for right away.

But good lord, he was dramatic. The whining and the moaning intensified just when you thought you couldn't stand another volume increase he raised his voice into a shout and put actual words to his protests. Your ears were already ringing and you could feel your substantial patience — really, you were on a level with a Buddhist monk after two years living with this — beginning to shake.

“I mean, if I asked you to teach me how to swim would you chuck me into the ocean on the first day?”

You forced your focus down on his other foot, getting the polish smooth and perfect with each stroke. He had gone quiet after his question to you and you bit down on your lip as you carefully pondered the words he was saying. The last thing you wanted was to make him so uncomfortable he was unable to go about his daily life. You didn't need this project to become a source of heartache for the man.

You were not an unreasonable person. Perhaps this really had been too big of a step for him to take without having even practiced under the careful instruction of a teacher.

He’d waited in silence for you to answer for only a few seconds and when you didn’t; because you were thinking about it, dammit, he threw his whole head back and his mouth opened up and he wailed into the ceiling above his head at an even more annoying volume than you thought was possible. This was new and shocking. It was deafening. Surely the neighbors would think someone was being butchered in here.

The awful sounds were coming straight from his diaphragm. The man had power in those pipes and he was going to destroy your ear drums in order to get his way. It went on and on, changing from a moaning, groaning large-dog-with-a-bellyache sound into what you imagined it might sound like inside of an echo chamber trapped with a big sad whale, the biggest ones they made, who also happened to be on fire. He was giving you everything he had now. This was full volume and it was horrible.

“Alright!” You shouted over the wretched screaming, “Alright fine! For the love of God, Baekhyun!” You said for emphasis and the incredible relief of silence flooded and cleansed your ear drums that still vibrated from the after effects of all of that noise.

He lifted his head and closed up his mouth instantly and his eyes were wide as he cautiously watched and waited for what you would say next.

“Do you want me to teach you? Do you think you can practice with me so you learn how to do it before you have to do it for real, on your own? That’s what you mean right? You want more instruction before I throw your ass into the ocean?”

His lips were situated down into a fierce pout now and he nodded his head twice; a big ol’ up and down.

You were irked now. No amount of pathetic pouting on that face could pull you back from the edge. Even the slow careful nod of his head was just an obvious attempt at winning you over with cuteness. Well, it wouldn't work. If anyone was capable of annoying someone to death, it was this man right here and he came very close just now.

“New assignment,” you said with your finger raised and he pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth and pushed his top lip forward as he inflated his cheeks into round balloons. He sat up straighter and he waited for you to speak.

“Since I am a woman,” you began with your finger still raised and waving in his direction. His eyes glanced down at it, “you may ask me out on a date, for practice. And if I say yes, we will then—”

Your pointed finger was joined by your whole hand as you opened it up and you waved it through the air twice, a visual representation of cause and effect of such a situation. His eyeballs followed every movement you made, looking at the hand that moved instead of at you, the actual speaker.

His eyes popped up into yours when he registered the words you were saying; the requirements of his new assignment.

“...we will then — well, we will..”

Your words were sticking. He was listening very closely and he’d released the air trapped in his mouth and his lips now hung open as his eyes occasionally followed the waving of your hand in front of his face. It was silly how shifty his focus was when your hand moved in front of him.

“We...will…” he said and his face moved, mirroring the movements of your hand as he tried best to understand the new task you were trying so hard to assign to him, even repeating your words to help you get the next ones out.

“We will go on a date. A real one. A practice date. You will have to take me on a date, Baekhyun. You’ll just have to .. do your best at it.”

“A date? I’ll have to,” he said with a flinching, squinting blink of his eyes, “...do my best?”

“Yes, of course,” you said as you pointed your finger at him again, pulling a swift but deep gasp into your lungs to fight the dizziness you could feel building inside your head, “It’s an assignment. Like school. I will give you a grade on how well you do. If you fail, then it’s over and I’m a terrible teacher and clearly your problems are beyond my area of expertise.”

His polish was dry. This conversation needed to be over because you were weirdly agitated by the wide eyed, deer in the headlights expression stuck on his face.

“I’ll send you some study materials later. You better take this seriously, Byun Baekhyun. This is a real assignment from your real dating teacher.”

The entire situation made you anxious. The desire to flee was very strong. You needed a getaway and you needed it now. You felt a tremble inside that could only be attributed to just how freaked out he had been acting. It was rubbing off on you.

You wanted to make a quick escape but you were now fighting with the many bottles of nail polish scattered across the coffee table; you’d gone through so many of them as you decided on which color to use — they really were just numerous and just everywhere. You grasped at them, trying to grab huge handfuls at one time but your hands couldn't hold as many as you wanted and each attempt sent a bottle or two clattering noisily to the table below. It was really ruining the dramatically cool exit you were trying for.

After quite a bit of noise you felt the warmth of Baekhyun’s arm as he leaned against you and began to help you pick up the bottles; carefully placing each in it’s designated spot in your huge nail polish organizer.

It took a bit of effort for you to turn to look at him and when his fingertips carefully placed the final bottle in the case you clicked the lid closed and finally managed to face him.

His eyes were flighty. His face was flushed and when he met your eyes the smile on his lips was very tense. It looked like a grimace.

You had to be insane to be doing this. Willingly putting yourself into a situation like this with him, a situation that was for instructional purposes only, but a situation nonetheless. Your heart was racing inside of your chest and you briefly wondered if he could hear it with him sitting so close to you.

You swallowed it away, the nerves or the uncertainty or whatever it was that had taken hold of your hands and made them unstable and you turned to look into his face head on.

“Do you understand the assignment?”

Baekhyun filled his lungs with air and straightened his shoulders, pulling them back as his eyes closed up. You recognized the self calming behavior. When he turned to look at you he held a new determination in his eyes and he nodded his head and furrowed his eyebrows.

“I was always a good student,” he said, “I will do my best with this assignment. I’ll take it seriously, so I can learn from you well.”

You reached forward and patted the back of his hand lightly and offered a reassuring smile.

“Don't be too nervous, okay? Remember it’s for class so you should learn from it. Mistakes are natural and they help us grow. And you won’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I mean it.”

He swallowed and his lips flattened out into a thin line across his face. His head bobbed up and down and he hummed out a response that told you that yes, he did know what was expected of him for the sake of the lesson; for the sake of his future as an adult man who was entering the dating pool in search of the companionship of some lucky lady.

“Also remember, it’s just me. No pressure. Okay, Peanut? I’m here to help you. You could spill an entire cup of iced tea down my dress at dinner and I would still forgive you.”

“No pressure,” he repeated under his breath and when you were finally satisfied that he really understood, you stood, hefting your manicure supplies up with both hands and you stepped away from the living room to return them to your bathroom.

“Do I have a deadline?” He called after you and you turned back with your hand on the doorknob to your room, quietly amused by the seriousness you saw on his face. At the same time, proud of what a good student he was. He was a smart boy, he would do well in anything he was determined to do.

“Ask me out by tomorrow or else Ben might beat you to it.”

You figured a little sense of competition couldn't hurt. And yes, you were still actually speaking regularly with Ben. You were pleasantly surprised with how smart and how funny he turned out to be and he turned out to be a pretty good distraction for the evenings when you’d normally be bored and hanging around in Baekhyun’s room while he played some game on his PC and he’s toss you a remote for the screen that hung up on the wall above his head. You’d play music videos, or cooking videos from YouTube, or some drama or variety shows and he’d play his games and lean far back in his chair watching the screen when exciting things happened on screen.

A few times lately though, when you went into his room you’d find him watching some anime and you just knew he’d want to pay close attention so he could discuss it later with Mia. You’d much rather find someone to entertain you alone so you didn’t have to be ignored or shushed when you interrupted his anime with some stupid question about it, like who is that guy with the crazy eyes and why is he trying to kill everybody. Ben’s conversations were good enough to keep you occupied at least a little bit.

Back in your bedroom you got to work searching for materials for Baekhyun to study. Mostly using helpful YouTube videos with titles such as “how to ask a girl out”, “what to talk about on a first date” and a super helpful online book you found called The Gentleman’s Guide: How to be the Perfect Date. It was just a little outdated with the styles but the book was extensive and ran the gamut from hygiene to manners to confidence and conversation; it even had an entire section called The Art of Subtle Seduction and it made you just a little embarrassed to think of Baekhyun reading this part. He was an adult. He could handle this much. The Dos and Don'ts of a First Date section alone was worth the price you paid for the book.

You wrote up an email with your course materials and sent it off to the man.

Then you sat and waited alone in your bedroom until your level of boredom that in any other situation would be unremarkable, when combined with the built up anticipation inside of you, mixed into a perfect storm of swirling lunacy that was bouncing around inside of you; trying to break free and wreak havoc on something other than your chest walls.

You grabbed your cell phone, slipped by the 2 waiting text messages from Ben that you would absolutely get to later, and opened a new text message to Baekhyun.

‘peanut did you get my email ^^?’

You were sure he did. Of course he did. You wondered if there was anything he found lacking in the pages and pages of super helpful information you sent him. You wondered what he thought about it all and maybe if he needed some guidance or suggestions on how to proceed with the first step of his assignment. Did he need you to come over to his bedroom and watch the videos with him? Would that be too awkward?

Your phone vibrated.

‘yep’

He would ask for help if he needed it, you were certain. He would be fine. This wasn’t real anyway. It wasn’t like there was an actual deadline, not really. You enjoyed talking with Ben but it didn’t seem like he was close to asking you out yet. He had been a bit busy lately and you had been busy as well with work and with helping Baekhyun.

You’d seen from the notification preview on your phone that Ben’s last two messages were asking you something that would take a while to explain and you didn’t want to open them yet in case he’d been expecting you to reply quickly. You needed a bit more time to come up with an answer for the questions he had casually asked about your roommate. You’d tell Ben that Baekhyun was, yes, a guy. And no, it wasn’t awkward living with a man.

You’d get to all that later. Now, you were entirely too keyed up about a problem of your very own creation.

When.

But really...

When?

You could not relax. Because honestly it could happen at any moment. He could come barging into your room, plop his ass down unceremoniously on your bed and say “Hey Doll, hows about you and me go on a hot date this weekend, what about it? Nyeeahhh?” Like some sort of 1940s gangster. You could definitely see Baekhyun doing this accent. You were pretty sure he had a 40s gangster hat in his closet.

You’d decided that you wouldn't give him a hard time about how he asked you. You’d accept right away for the sake of his nerves, if he worked up the courage to ask you at all, then he was on the right track and he deserved an E for effort.

You still had trouble with the anticipation. Not knowing when was the hardest part to handle. You tried your very best to go about your day in as normal a way possible. Sure, you jumped every time you heard a sound, but other than that, it felt like any other day.

He spent the rest of the evening in his room and didn't even come out until you heard the doorbell ring. You peaked your head out of your bedroom door and waited for him to answer it but after a few minutes with no sight of him you stepped out. The doorbell rang a second time and you rushed from your room to answer it before the visitor gave up.

It could have been something important. This building had a doorman so it was usually someone who had a purpose ringing the bell.

The view through the camera monitor showed a run of the mill pizza delivery man, and you remembered that it was Baekhyun’s turn to make dinner tonight. He must have ordered you a pizza so he could hide in his room all night and not have to worry about walking around you in the kitchen and not asking you out on a date.

This was his way of avoiding you for the night.

You had to swallow down the flash of silly disappointment that popped up. You’d assumed correctly that he had already paid for the pizza and you received your cardboard box of loneliness with a polite smile for the weirdly cheerful delivery kid.

You gave a quick glance at the label in the front of the box to check for forbidden toppings just in case he’d forgotten who he was avoiding tonight and put something weird on it like corn and mayo or hot peppers.  

The label had four lines of ingredients listed, the first said ‘xtra cheese’ and each additional one after that said ‘xtra cheese.’ Nothing else, just ‘xtra cheese’ listed four times in succession.

What in the world?

You briefly considered a malfunction of the pizza shop’s label maker, but boy was this thing heavy. Did he sneeze while selecting toppings and accidentally hit the option four times?

You set the monster down on the counter and lifted the lid. It was steaming hot despite the trip in the car and up the elevators to your door and as soon as you opened it you noticed the odd appearance of the inside lid.

There was a message handwritten with black marker inside of the lid.

Your stomach leapt up into your throat as you recognized what this was. The message started with the word Bug.

You had to cover your mouth to get through this.

Bug,

I know this is really, really, really, really cheesy, but will you go out on a date with me this Saturday?

Knock thrice on my door for yes.

-Peanut

P.S. Did I beat Ben?

You had to hang your head to contain it. You wanted to scream. Giggles actually burst out of your mouth before you could stop them. You were highly amused. Actually reallly fucking impressed and goddammit you felt a genuine flutter of butterflies inside of your stomach. How was he this clever? He had always been very silly and good at thinking of the most ridiculous scenarios to get things done, but wow. When you lifted the lid once more to read his message again your mind spun with the logistics of that man in that bedroom sneakily ordering this thing from a real pizza shop that was probably a block from your home.

Did he call them and explain the situation? Did all of the employees gather around, chanting ‘More cheese! Give the man more cheese!’ As they loaded this pizza up with what looked to be a full inch of melted cheese on top? It compromised the edges of the crust and flowed over the cardboard below. It was absolutely ridiculous and nearly inedible too.

Did they giggle at the pet names you called each other as they selected the employee with the best handwriting to relay his message?

You were buzzing again. This time it was pride. He was brilliant at everything he put his mind to and this was clearly no exception. He would do so well in his life.

You left the kitchen and made your way toward his closed bedroom door. As you came close you heard a very soft thud; wooden door hitting wooden door frame. The movement was hardly noticeable but you could see a slow turn of the doorknob too. He probably thought he was sneaky.

You lifted your closed fist and quietly hit three times against his door and after exactly ten seconds you heard the squeak of his doorknob turning and his bedroom door opened up an inch.

You saw a single brown eyeball peeping at you through the opening.

“I’ll text you the details later,” he whispered and the door closed up again before you could respond.

The details came by text message a day later, just as he promised. It was a Thursday afternoon when your phone buzzed and you’d just put the final touches on your data entry work for the day, running it through a spell checker for mistakes as you always did. You’d expected to hear from Ben by now, he said he had something to go straighten out at the bank. He’d taken it well, finding out that your roommate was a man around your age, and he didn’t even ask too many prodding questions about him.

The message was from Baekhyun with the time he would ‘arrive’ to pick you up on Saturday and he gave you sparse details about what he actually had planned; just a quick note at the end that he would be wearing a suit. You figured this was a hint for you to dress up as well.

Was Baekhyun taking you some place fancy? Your curiosity was positively burning and Baekhyun had been acting super weird around you lately.

Whenever you’d come into a room he was already occupying he would make up some excuse why he had to leave it and vanish inside his room to carry on with his highly secretive behavior. Whenever you went into his room he would spin in his chair toward the door with what you were positive was a caught red handed look on his face. It was like you had just caught him watching porn, only you’d caught glimpses of his screen before he quickly hit a keyboard command to clear out the screen and you didn't see a single boob.

After the first time, you’d made it a point to barge into his room often, just to see the surprised look on his face; you did it all for that gasp of air, the frantic fingers of panic on the keyboard, and the trembling hand over his chest as he clutched his pearls. All you caught flashes of were just regular looking websites. Regular text and regular pictures. You saw some blues, you saw some greens. You definitely didn't see the incriminating black and yellow theme of everyone’s favorite adult website. There was nary a penetrative moan to be heard through his speakers. The entire thing brought you great joy. The man was acting so odd and honestly he was getting your hopes up for a fantastically mind blowing date on Saturday. You’d already picked out your dress, heels, and jewelry and had been having a very hard time tolerating the ever so tedious passage of time.

By the time Saturday rolled around you were a wreck of nerves; though you weren’t exactly sure why you were so anxious. It was probably his recent fretting and obsessive preparations that had rubbed off on you. You’d decided to take it easier on him today. He’d obviously been working very hard on this assignment once given the dangling carrot of a good grade to be awarded at the end and if there was one thing you knew about Baekhyun, it was how much he strived to achieve perfection in his academic performance. You’d provided the materials. He’d obviously been studying and go-time was quickly approaching.

You took your time getting ready, soaking in your bathtub to kill some of the dull waiting hours before he was due to pick you up. By the time you were scrubbed, rinsed, shaved, moisturized, plucked, preened, coiffed, and scented to your satisfaction, you had only a half an hour to slip up the straps on the fancy fitted cocktail dress and check your reflection in the full length mirror. It was fitted and had a deep plunging neckline. It accentuated the best parts of your figure and the high slit that landed over your upper thigh showed just enough skin to make you feel sexy.

With your heels you were ready to go; feeling about as pretty as you had in a long while. The silliest little fantasy swam through your head as you spun in front of the mirror and it brought just a little warmth to your cheeks as you allowed it to play out. The idea that he would find you so lovely, so irresistible, that even the iron willed man with his self control like a steel trap would lose himself in the slow blinks of your lashes and drown in the pools of your eyes for just one night.

When you lightly slapped a palm over your cheek, it was to ground yourself. This was fake. Everything that happened tonight would be the result of careful calculations and applications of behaviors modeled in text books that he had studied all week long. It was a date with Baekhyun, but it wouldn't really be an accurate representation of the Baekhyun that you know so well.

You knew he would follow a script. He would perform as a perfect gentleman and you would play along, knowing that when he brought you home you would get a gentle hug and a thanks for sharing your knowledge with him and you would close your bedroom door and he would return to his bedroom door and life as you know it would simply fall back into place as it should remain unchanged for however long it took for you to get back on your feet, perhaps get a place of your own not too far away from him; although this neighborhood was very expensive, you’d settle for one or two subways stops away if it meant you could visit your best friend often and see him living out the life he deserved with someone who was worthy of his love.

Tonight, you will enjoy. But you would not allow your emotions to betray your rational mind. You would enjoy it and then it would be over and Baekhyun would have the skill set to ask out Mia, or whoever else he set his mind on asking out.

Your quiet self assurance was interrupted by two soft knocks on your bedroom door and your hands were trembling as you grabbed your handbag that had your cell phone, a tube of lipstick for touch-ups and a few just in case items you were always taught to carry with you, you know, just in case.

You’d reached the door and swung it open with a beaming smile on your face.

Your date was here. Baekhyun was here. It was Peanut.

A smile that quickly transformed into what you were sure was a gaping opening in your face resembling some aquatic animal and you found yourself gazing upon, frankly, an expertly styled exquisitely handsome real life man, who was wearing Byun Baekhyun’s face and smile.

Despite seeing him standing before you with your own two eyes, your brain was having trouble reconciling the two; your harmless roommate and the man who stood before you wearing a crisp suit jacket that he filled out shockingly well, a fashionable collarless dress shirt that looked like it came from some fancy boutique from downtown, fitted dress slacks that you tried your best not to linger on for too long, and were his shoes Italian? You were pretty sure they were Italian. More than just the clothes, his hair was different. He’d gone and had something done to his hair! Lord, you saw slight waves and a deliberate styling by an expert hand with just a bit of his forehead visible. Oh he looked so lovely with this hair style.

You remembered to close your mouth, but only after the realization dawning on you that he hadn’t said anything to you as you silently admired how beautiful he looked standing in his fancy suit looking like at least a million bucks.

You knew...you knew he was an attractive man. You’d have plenty of glimpses of it again and again, freshly reminded of it during that photo shoot late that night. You’d even known he worked out and had had plenty of chances to ogle the muscles on his arms and chest when he just woke up and would wander out shirtless for a drink of water. You knew that the entire shape of this man was the kind of handsome that you had to make conscious decisions to ignore. You’d forced yourself to look away plenty of times in the past. Still, the Baekhyun who stood here today, the one who had his lips parted as he stared into your eyes now after what you were certain was a head to toe, slow as hell, full body appreciation of all of your preparations to get ready for tonight, this Baekhyun was, for lack of a better word, he was sexy as all hell.

For the first time since you began this project; these lessons in dating, you felt like you might actually be in some sort of trouble.

Baekhyun spoke at last and it was the softest whisper. He said your name. Not Bug, not stupid or dummy or stinky which he called you sometimes even though you knew, you fucking knew you always smelled amazing. You went out of your way to smell great. The sound of your name on his voice softened the shock in your face and you felt a smile pull at your lips.

And so you smiled at him and watched the slow but complete smile that manifested on his pretty face.  

“Hi,” he said with a blink of his bright eyes.

“Hi Baek,” you said. Your heart was racing.

He pivoted on his (Italian!) shoes and extended a bent elbow toward you and you slipped a hand around his arm.

He was doing so well. Each step you took through your shared home felt new. You had a hard time keeping from watching the side of his face and each glance you made was greeted with the light touch of his eyes as he met your eyes with his own.

Moments blurred. He ticked all the boxes, of course. He opened your door, closed it quietly behind you once you were inside. Even helped you with the seatbelt, much to the dismay of your racing heartbeat when he reached over to pull the red strap across you, careful to keep his hands well away from touching any of your actual body as he did it. The true devastation hit you when, all closed up inside the dark car in the silent moments before he started the engine and the intoxicating smell of him reached your nose.

This was a new smell. Baekhyun had gone to the salon, gone shopping for expensive new clothes, and was also wearing what had to be the best smelling cologne you had ever experienced in person.

“You smell really good,” you said without looking at him and your fingers fidgeted with the strap of your handbag to keep your mind working.

“So do you,” he said followed by an inhale that you were certain sounded just a little thready and he was steering the car through lanes and turns of a parking garage to exit the building.

His destination was the kind of fancy dream-like restaurant that you saw only in movies. The sun would be setting soon and you were led to a rooftop terrace with a view over the city and a single table set for two. You followed the pleasantly clean woman and lingering just behind you, Baekhyun silently fell behind one or two steps. A glance behind woke him up from whatever daze he’d fallen into and he closed the distance with two larger steps and a shy smile on his lips.

The waitstaff worked like ninjas. Glasses were refilled as if by magic and course after course of delicious food appeared before you as you watched the sunset over the horizon and when the light faded enough, the soft glow of twinkle lights illuminated the view around you.

The dinner was delicious and the scenery was breathtaking and that alone would have given him full marks for such a lovely evening out, but Byun Baekhyun was proving to be an overachiever as he started to talk to you. He was asking you open-ended questions, pulling conversation easily from you and you found yourself giggling and laughing as he joked in response or told you some funny anecdotes from his childhood that he knew you would love.

By the time dessert arrived you were pretty certain you were drunk despite half of the wine that remained back in your glass. Baekhyun, ever the stickler for vehicle safety had stuck to soft drinks and when he excused himself for the restrooms, you waited patiently under the glowing lights as you daydreamed about the genuine brightness you were certain you saw in his smiles. Had the twinkle in his eyes been just a reflection of this place? Everything about him tonight felt so real. You’d read through the same book he read through and you couldn’t recall him using a single recycled phrase or conversation point during dinner.

Maybe he was just that good of a student.

A noise startled you from behind and you jumped when a single red rose was laid on the table in front of you.

A rose. Baekhyun had brought you back a rose from somewhere; maybe he stole it from the elaborate flower arrangements you passed on the way in.

“Where did you get this?” You mused as you smelled his sweet offering and he shrugged and tugged at the top button of his shirt, undoing it and slipping slim fingers down to undo the second button as well. Your eyes watched the action and weirdly the fragrance from the rose smelled sweeter than the first time you smelled it.

“I just had it,” he said cryptically with another charming and blinding smile.  

“Ready to go? We have one more place to visit.”

The next place he took you was even more magical than the fancy restaurant. The parking lot was nearly empty and when he opened your door he was fussing around with a small bag in the backseat of his car.  He pulled out a pair of black ballet flats and you watched in awe as the man actually kneeled down on the pavement in front of you to carefully slip your heels off of your feet and slip on the comfortable shoes.  

While they did not look anywhere near as sexy as the heels did, you instantly understood the need for a change.

Baekhyun had brought you to an aquarium with what looked like miles and miles of indoor and outdoor paths to walk through with tunnels traveling through the biggest tanks of aquatic sea life you’d ever seen.

You were instantly hypnotized by the deep sea exhibits that seemed to take you for miles and miles below the surface of the ocean where the sea life grew weirder and the lighting grew darker and dimmer the further down you traveled. Here at depths difficult to wrap your brain around the fish and sea creatures have adapted to freezing waters and a bleak existence without any light at all. Many had their own light sources. The bioluminescent exhibits sparkled and twinkled like the stars in the sky out in the country. You saw entire universes all around you.

Baekhyun was as enraptured as you were and spent his time carefully reading each exhibit’s information card out loud as he stared with his mouth open in awe at the different creatures. There were hundreds of different species of fishes, beautiful ones and downright creepy ugly things from the very bottom of the oceans; endangered species too; the sleepy eyes of the sea turtles were your favorites and the impressions Baekhyun made of their swimming faces made you cackle with laughter. Bright lights illuminated meters of corals of all shapes, sizes, and colors, and you honestly felt like you’d entered another planet when you both walked into the jellyfish halls.

They glowed and flowed, bounced and danced, and moved like a dream. You found yourself hypnotized as you stared at the biggest tank full of them for long enough for Baekhyun to make three circles around waiting for you to follow him out of this room so he could go see the sharks.  

You knew the sharks were coming. You’d had a look at the map. And while you didn't necessarily dislike them, their huge sizes and razor sharp teeth always gave you the heebie-jeebies. The jellies were just so comfortable to look at and so relaxing.

It took some coaxing from Baekhyun, and maybe even a little tiny push at the back of your shoulders to get your feet to move and you lingered a bit long in the dark hallway that connects the two exhibits.

You just felt that maybe, the sharks could wait just a little bit longer to meet you.

He’d noticed right away and you opened up your eyes that you’d closed up for a little relaxing session when you felt the tips of his fingers running along the palm of your hand.

He gripped lightly at first, and then shifted your hand within his and he began walking forward in that dark hallway with you trailing behind him.

Baekhyun touched you sometimes. This was something that he did, on occasion. During a scary movie when you’d jumped too many times, or when you both walked through a crowded place and he didn't want you to wander off, he would occasionally hold your hand.  This wasn’t something new to you.

However your heart was beating hard in your chest and the warmth of his hand coupled with the firmness with which he held you felt so damn nice you were having trouble focusing on anything else except for your own shallow breathing and racing heartbeat — and his hand holding yours.

Sharks swam at a gentle languid pace. Clearly at ease and very well fed here in their homes, there didn't seem to be very much murder and feasting happening at all. Hammerheads, tiger sharks, something uglier than any other creature you had ever seen that came from The Midnight Zone of the deepest parts and with each creature that swam overhead, or beside you, or creeped up from somewhere behind you, Baekhyun would turn to face you and take two or three steps backwards as he pulled you through it, your hand held securely inside of his. He would smile at you that debilitating smile, and tilt his head and call you a scary cat or a big baby and you would laugh and roll your eyes and deny that you were even a little bit scared of anything at all.

All was going well. You were very well taken care of and felt very secure inside this tiny tunnel at the bottom fo the ocean and you’d noticed this time when Baekhyun had turned around to look at you with a bright smile that smile wavered just a touch and his eyes seemed to focus on something that was coming up from behind.

Your curiosity got the better of you and you turned to see what he saw.

Baekhyun moved quickly then, moving both of his hands up to reach for your face he pulled your head forward and moved his own face close to yours. You felt the warmth of his forehead lean against yours for a moment and you could not see around or behind you with his hands placed so carefully on the sides of your head like this.

You knew what it was. It had to be something huge and terrifying, maybe even something with fresh blood still on it’s teeth. A Great White. The giant monster from the movie Jaws that you had watched with him once not realizing just how scary it would be and you spent most of the film curled up under his arm wincing at the horrors you saw on the screen.

“Hey Peanut,” you said softly while looking up close into his eyes. He was so close you could feel the warmth of his breath on your face. His smell, that new smell of his smelled even better this close to his skin.

“Hey LoveBug,” he said with a gentle smile and you knew based on the use of this carefully reserved nickname for emergencies that it was exactly as you had feared. A Great White, chomping on the remains of the cutest crying baby penguin. The fluffiest one with its whole life ahead of it.

Baekhyun was safe though. Baekhyun was warm and he was here to protect you. You would be okay, you knew it.

“Is it gone yet?” You asked after what felt like the average time for a fish that size to swim away and you noticed something. It was a look, just a glance. Baekhyun’s eyes floated a bit and the warm breath you felt coming from him was delivered in quicker puffs through his parted lips.

When he licked his lips, you could not help it, your eyes caught the motion as his tongue ran over his bottom lip and left wetness behind and by the time you realized what you had done — where you had looked — you had already done it, your stubborn eyes had already looked and in your mind a vivid replay was happening. You felt too much. This was too much. This was supposed to be fake. Why did he have to smell so fucking good and why was he so aware of every tiny detail about you he knew when something would overwhelm you and ruin your mood, so he used his own body to shield you from it and protect you. You cautiously pulled your eyes back up only to find him blinking too fast and he was dropping his hands from your face as he took a step back and away from the stifling closeness.

You were dizzy. You felt it all over. Your heart was racing and the warmth you felt traveling through your body sent waves through you. You had to rub lightly over your forearms to smooth out the goosebumps and Baekhyun was no longer facing you, but was staring off into the literal depths of the cold black ocean and you took a while to recover enough to walk by him toward the exit of the aquarium and back into the darkened city streets you knew as the real world.

The walk back to the car was quiet and had an odd flavor about it. You both could feel the end coming. It had been a wonderful date. You’d spent hours, just the two of you talking and laughing and exploring literally new worlds you hadn’t before experienced. You felt a sudden but definite melancholy to see the fancy circles that made up the logo of his car.  

“Hey, you want to take a walk?” Baekhyun’s voice halted your steps and you turned back to see him standing with a hand in his pocket, fidgeting in hidden, likely with the key fob to his car, and a new sort of nervous flush on his cheeks that you hadn’t seen since he first showed up at your bedroom door looking like a dashing Prince Charming ready to sweep you off your feet.

“Sure,” you said, meaning every bit of it and secretly extremely thankful that this evening wasn’t over yet.

The walk was peaceful. It was a bit chilly tonight and you didn’t even resist when you felt the warmth of the coat jacket he placed over your shoulders. You thought you’d become used to the smell of him by now, but clearly you were incapable of ever getting used to his smell.

The streets were mostly empty now that the night had grown stale and you walked side by side passing various touristy shops that had long since closed up for the evening. Ahead you could see a small street side cafe that sold warm teas and coffees and Baekhyun was pulling out his wallet before you even had the chance to look at him with hopeful delight all over your face. He ordered two hot coffees and you danced and celebrated when he handed the first one to you.

It warmed you from the inside and you paid no mind to the smudges of lipstick all over the white lid of your cup. The hot drink made you happy and you could see your breath like a dragon in the chilly night air around you. Each puff made Baekhyun smile and when he’d taken a particularly big drink from his cup he pulled his head back and puffed out three perfectly formed rings of warm air into the color air above his head. The rings grew and then faded quickly but you were so excited to see his trick that you made him do it again and again until he was puffing and out of breath  and laughing too much for any more cool rings to form. This man was full of secrets. Absolutely full of them!

The night was winding on. You could feel the lateness in your limbs and you’d long since finished your drinks and dropped your paper cups into a street side trash can. Your feet, you found were protesting. It wasn’t that they ached or hurt or anything like that. You weren't even that tired. You were just having trouble with the idea of this ending and the night being over.

Everything had to end eventually. You didn't even pout at all when he pulled open your door. You just climbed in and sat down, fastening your own seatbelt this time with a sense of finality looming in your mind along with a wagging finger that quietly scolded you for letting your guard down during this date.

The drive back home was quiet. He didn't even turn on the radio and even though he drove with one hand, he held his other hand firm atop his thigh.

The small touches and stolen glances were over. The date was over. He had done very well. You were thoroughly swept off your feet and his grade would be an A+. You would go back to your room and go to sleep and tomorrow morning when you woke up you’d find him back to his usual antics and maybe, maybe you’d even get him to ask Mia out on a date.

You swallowed the dryness in your throat and the familiar landmarks outside your apartment building called you back home. Baekhyun pulled into the parking garage and you did not wait for him to round the hood of the car to reach your door, you simply opened it yourself and pushed through it.

Baekhyun did well. You had given him a task and he’d done it. He deserved all the praise and recognition for a job well done. He’d taken it seriously just as he said he would. This dark mood that had suddenly come over you could not show. You shouldn’t do this to him.

You cared for him too much to ruin this sweet evening.

You loved him too much. This quiet secret usually echoed around inside of your heart and you winced to hear it peaking it’s way up into your running thoughts.

The apartment was dark and you walked through it easily, knowing exactly where you could walk without bumping into anything and he didn’t turn on any lights as he walked closely behind you. He hadn’t said anything to you on the drive home, nor did he speak right now as he walked you back to your bedroom door where he had picked you up.

You turned to face him now. You pushed a smile up to your lips and his face was mostly in the darkness, barely lit with the city lights from the window.  

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Baekhyun. It was perfect. You were perfect. Seriously, you are amazing.”

You leaned before he did and you felt the staggered response from his limbs as he wrapped both of his arms around your shoulders for the hug.

“Thank you for coming with me tonight,” he whispered against your ear and when you pulled out of the hug, your small smile was not returned. You could see enough of his face to see that he did not smile at you now.

Your hand was on your door and you turned and stepped inside, thankful that you had left your small table lamp on. The room was warm and inviting and you closed the door behind you with a soft click that sounded exactly like clapperboard snapped to signal the end of a movie scene. You could almost hear a director somewhere yelling cut. Everybody clapped for the job well done. All the actors could now go home. It was over.

Your shoes were off. You’d pulled off the earrings and had taken off your necklace and the delicate tennis bracelet’s clasp was so tiny you had to try a few times to get it open so you could take it off.

When you reached up to slip the strap of your dress off your shoulders a tiny sound interrupted you. It was almost like a knocking, but it was so soft you had to listen carefully to hear if it repeated again.

It did not, but you could not shake that feeling that it had happened and out of genuine curiosity you walked across your bedroom and pulled your bedroom door open.

Someone was there; Baekhyun was there, standing in nearly the exact same position as he had been, wearing the same clothes. The only difference was the sight mess to his hair and the definite pink shade you saw on his face even in the dim lighting from the windows.

“Peanut?” You couldn’t imagine what this was. He was finished. The assignment was finished and he had done perfectly, you’d said so already...but, his eyes. You caught that same look that you’d seen on him many times before. It was a look of hard determination that propelled him forward when he dove into some new and difficult project he had to master. If you had to give it a name, you’d call it his passion. The passion he had inside of him to do things right. To be perfect.

“I said I would take it seriously,” he said in a well controlled voice and you shook your head, not understanding what he meant. Did he have some regrets about how the night went? Did he feel that he had somehow failed to live up to the requirements you’d set forth for him as his teacher?

“The date, I told you I would.” He wasn't clarifying anything with his words.

It was then that he moved.

His hands were up and Baekhyun took a step closer to where you stood confused and surprised at the threshold of your bedroom door. He reached for you with both hands and you felt the warmth of his palms on your cheeks at the same time as you felt the exhale from his parted lips against your mouth. It happened in a single moment. His lips connected with yours and you gasped in a surprised breath. Baekhyun kissed you. His lips were on yours and he held your face tightly between both of his hands as he did it. This was it. This was his goodnight kiss at your front door. This was the end of the date.

You could just make out the ultra up close view of him, his fluffed up hair, the smoothness of his forehead, his eyes closed up tight and dark eyelashes spread over his cheeks and it was all a big blur and so you closed your eyes and your heart raged noisily inside of your chest with the sudden need you felt for this to happen.

Your own lips parted and you felt the tilt of his head as his bottom lip pushed out slipping perfectly between your own and you could not stop it. You could not control the tightness with which your hands clung to the cotton of his dress shirt and pulled him toward you. You could not contain the way his tongue brushed lightly against your own and the way you reacted to it. The light moan that escaped from your throat and bounced around inside of his mouth. The light draw you felt on your lip as he pulled lightly and sucked on your lip as he did it. The final pull was him pulling away.

He ended the kiss with a step backward and a drop of his hands from your face.

He had kissed you and you most definitely had kissed him back. The labored breathing you struggled to contain did nothing for the dizziness.  

“Goodnight,” he said with a roughness on his voice; plus the blown out look in his eyes was telling you of many forbidden things that he was running from now. Things that even he knew were a very bad idea.

This had been fake. This was supposed to be a lesson.

You stood at your doorway and watched him disappear into his bedroom and after standing frozen in your doorway you had no choice but to return to the quiet glowing comfort of your own bedroom and close your door too.

Your hands were shaking and you felt the trembling all over you as you looked around at the place you called home. The place you loved more than anything in the world except for maybe that man who was likely facing a very similar struggle behind his own closed bedroom door.

The only difference was just how much you had to lose if you gave in.

You loved him. You knew it deep down inside of your soul. It had been buried for so long deep in the frozen depths of your ocean that you thought it would never surface and consume you, yet now you knew you’d been a fool.

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5, Part 6

Tag list: @j-pping  @blahblahblah-boo  @his-mochi-cheeks  @amyeonzing@littleflowercrown13  @baekinmylife  @insta1010  @nana-banana  @f4ncyvelvet@bbhbeth  @totallynerdstuff  @byunbabybaek @maijinki @bbyunz@theclawofaraven @kingkushdealer  @uhobob

[thesightstoshowyou]

request: may we please have Jesse Cromeans or asa having watched y/n for a long time, getting y/n's place ready, and fucking y/n on a fur rug in front of a fire?? maybe y/n is tied up too? something feral and dark??

Ooo, fur rug. Sexy idea, anon.

I chose Jesse for this one.

AFAB Reader (NSFW), TW noncon, blood, violence, degradation, fingering, anal, blood as lube

            Your keys rattle in the lock before the door swings open. You heave a heavy sigh as you dump your work files onto the entryway table. Your shoes are next, kicked off randomly as you trudge into your darkened home.

             You shuffle into the living room, intent on collapsing onto the couch for the rest of the night, but you tread across something soft. Something out of place. Glancing down, you find a pure white, fur rug spread out before your fire place. You frown, confused. What the hell—

             You gasp when cold steel slots under your chin. A black gloved hand slaps over your mouth, silencing your panicked shriek. Wildly, you search the mirror across the room. Your face pales when you spot your own terrified expression, and the imposing figure standing next to you wearing a chrome skull mask.

             He’s found you.

             Memories of a few months ago rise to the surface of your mind in vivid detail. He’d cornered you in an alley, threatened you, cut you, fucked you half senseless, then released you before disappearing without a trace. You’d stumbled home, reminders of what he would do to you should you call the police playing on repeat in your head.

             You hadn’t told anyone, but had he come here to kill you anyway, tie up a loose end? You tremble, a little squeaky sob bubbling up from your throat.

             ‘No screaming, or I cut out your tongue, kitten,’ comes the screeched voice from his phone.

             Kitten. He’d called you that in the alley too.

             Hastily, you nod. He removes his hand and taps your lips with the flat of the knife for emphasis. Your arms are wrenched behind your back and secured with zip ties. He shoves you to your knees and does the same to your ankles. Your clothes are cut away until you are bare and face down on the soft rug.

            He then turns his attention to the fireplace. Discreetly, you strain against the plastic digging grooves into your wrists, but you only succeed in rubbing your skin raw. Panic rises each second that passes until you’re whimpering, tears spilling into the fur beneath you.

             You jump when a fire roars to life. The masked man turns back to you, seating himself on the brick ledge before the fire and quickly typing something on his phone.

            ‘How’s that for ambiance?’ He spreads his arms, motioning to the rug and the crackling fire. You have no idea how to respond so you say nothing. He doesn’t seem concerned by your silence, instead pressing a button on the camera mounted on his shoulder. It beeps, red recording light flickering to life.

            Then, he bends down and stuffs your shredded panties in your mouth. He lifts a boot and sets it on top of your head, lightly digging the rubber sole into your cheek. You grunt, then scream around the fabric in your mouth when he drags the blade of his knife through the flesh of your ass. You writhe, but the boot on your face keeps you securely pinned in place.

            He continues to carve haphazard patterns into your ass and thighs, sharp, white hot lines of pain erupting everywhere the knife touches. Your throat is raw by the time he’s done, drool and tears pooling under the cheek smashed into the rug. Violently, you shake from head to toe, pleading around your gag.

            With a quiet clink, he sets the bloody knife on the mantel, then drags his fingers through the warm blood dripping down the backs of your thighs. You wince and hiss, then cry out when two, wet fingers prod your entrance. Leisurely, he pushes his fingers into your cunt, slowly pumping them in and out until you clench and whine.

            He curls his bloody digits, rubbing your sensitive walls in delicious circles. You clench your jaw, loath to let any sounds of pleasure escape, but soon you’re huffing and trembling, and this time it’s not from the pain. His other hand finds your clit and that’s enough to send you crashing into the abyss, a muffled moan escaping your mouth as warmth swirls in your gut.

             The boot lifts from your face and the man positions himself behind you. You hear the snap of a button and the drag of a zipper, then feel palms sliding over your bloody flesh. A glance over your shoulder finds him smearing your blood on his cock, the quiet schlick, schlick sound as he pumps his engorged flesh making you gag.

             You think you know where it’s going, but when the head of his generous cock presses against your asshole you wheeze and wiggle away. This earns you a sharp smack on your lacerated thigh for your trouble. Heart pounding, breath coming in shallow gasps, you fall still, dread settling heavily in your stomach.

             Gradually, he pushes into your ass, each inch burning more than the last. He advances slowly until his hips meet your thighs and a long exhale sounds behind the mask. Though, it seems he has reached the extent of his patience.

             Drawing back, he bucks forward, pulling an anguished scream from your throat. He sets a brutal pace, each powerful thrust jarring you to the core. Sweat beads along your brow, the heat from the fireplace only adding to your discomfort.

             He pulls out, rolls you onto your back, tosses your legs over his shoulders, and pushes back into your ass. He grips your jaw, making sure to get a good shot of your tear streaked face. You clench your eyes shut, not wanting to look at the blinking red light more than you have to.

             They snap back open when his thumb grazes your clit. He rubs slow circles, tilting his hips and thrusting deeper. A shocked moan sounds around the gag in your mouth. The man’s shoulder bob silently up in down in what could only be laughter.

             You cum when he does, pleasure exploding in your belly as warmth paints your insides. Abruptly, he slides his softening cock from your ass and you shudder at the strange, empty feeling. He drops your legs, standing and tucking himself back into his pants. He switches off the camera with a quiet ‘beep.’

             Slowly he leans down and you tense, ready for the final thrust of a knife, the killing blow. Instead, he pats your cheek, like one would an obedient dog. Retrieving his phone, he types out a quick message, one that chills you to the bone.

             ‘Thanks, kitten. See you soon.’

[bts-hyperfixation]

Hi! Can I request 22 and 47 with Taehyung? With a Dom! Tae and Sub! Reader? As the reader is the present? I really enjoy your writing and it would be amazing if you did this, but you don't have to!

I Can’t Wait To Unwrap Your love.

You bite your lip anxiously. Taehyung will be home any minute and you are sat almost entirely naked on his bed at the dorm. Earlier in the week you had bribed Jimin to give you the spare key so you could sneak in. You’d never done anything like this. Always a little shy when it came to making the first move. Knowing Taehyung loved you being just that little bit innocent as he ravaged you. But this Christmas you’d made up your mind, this year you were going to be his present, giving into ever desire and fantasy he had ever had.

Your heart races faster as you hear laughter. The front door shuts and footsteps echo throughout the halls. Each of the boys head into their respective rooms after a long day. At least you hope they do because you would be mortified if anyone but Taehyung walked through that door right now. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you kneel up as the doorknob turns. Your new outfit (or lack thereof) on full display for the next person to enter the room. Delicate red lace covered your most intimate parts as ribbons covered in snowflakes wrapped in intricate patterns around you stomach, forming a bow in the middle.

Taehyung’s eyes open wide as he sees you, slamming the door quickly behind him to make sure the others wouldn’t see you. His eyes rake down your form, taking in every inch of you. His tongue darts out to lick his lips

“Y/N, you naughty girl” he scolds, moving closer to play with ribbons wrapped just under your chest. “What if the others had seen you like this?” his gaze locks with yours. You watch as his eyes grow darker with lust, giving you a lot more confidence in your decision.

“It wouldn’t have mattered… I’m your present Taehyung, only yours.” You go into kiss him, but he turns his face, so you peck his cheek instead.

“Taehyung Jagi?” his deep tone makes a shiver run down your spine.

“Sir.” You correct yourself. He turns his face back and rewards you with the kiss you’d been searching for.

“Tell me Jagi, what’s off limits today, set your boundaries for me.” He strokes your face sweetly, if a little possessively,

“Nothing sir.” He quirks an eyebrow, clearly not expecting your openness. “I want to show you exactly how I got on the naughty list this year siirr…” you drag out the title. His face remains stonelike but you see the delight dance behind his eyes.

“Is that so? Then I guess it’s time I unwrap my present.” He pushes you back onto the mattress and crawls up until he reaches your midriff. He takes the sparkly ribbon between his teeth and pulls. The bow falls to pieces immediately. He lays soft kisses across your stomach, trailing them up wards, over your cleavage and to your chin. You paw at the hemline of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours. You whine as he pulls away, towering above you.

“Are you rushing me Jagi? Getting a little greedy?” he frowns and starts to climb off of you. “Here I thought you were supposed to be my present.” He let out an exaggerated sigh. He wanders out your eyeline, but you know better than to try to crane your neck and find him. If he wanted you to see him, you would. You hear a familiar click in the corner of his room. He has opened the toy chest. You try not to wriggle in anticipation. “If Y/N wants to make it all about her, I suppose I can oblige.” He mumbles like he is talking to himself, but you know it’s a performance for you. You mourn the loss of your pet name. All you want is to be his Jagiya, to know you are being a good girl for him.

You don’t notice as his weight shifts back on to the end of the bed. It takes the soft buzzing to bring your attention back to Taehyung. In his hand is a vibrator the two of you had yet to try. It was bought as a joke originally. Packaged as ‘the most powerful clit stim’ you had been too terrified to actually use it. You were already overly sensitive when it came to Taehyung, this seemed like it may be overkill. His free hand slides your panties to the side, dipping a finger through your slick and testing how wet you were already. He chuckles to himself before pressing the vibrator to your already dripping core, dragging it almost torturously up to meet your clit.

You let out a scream when he turns up the power. Immediately a hand covers your mouth, the finger that was slipped through your pussy is forced through your lips and you suck obediently, eager to please.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to get the others to see you like this. Is that what you want? Do you want my hyungs to see what a slut you are for me? Or do you want the little maknae to watch as I destroy this delicate little pussy?” he turns up the setting of the vibrator, daring you to make another sound. You focus on sucking the finger he gave you and try to ignore the quickly growing pressure in your stomach. Unfortunately, Taehyung notice the little squirm you can’t supress. He smiles maliciously, pressing harder. You begin to pant around the digit in your mouth. Just before you topple over the edge of your orgasm, he takes away the pressure, switching off the vibrator all together and removing his hand from your face.

It takes you a moment to recover from the denial, breathing hard and eyeing him carefully. He merely rolls the vibrator along his palm and waits for your breathing to return to normal. Once he is sure you’ve recovered enough, he turns the vibrator back on. This time the vibrations against your clit are even stronger. All of the muscles in your body tighten. He draws soothing patterns along your thigh as he shushes you, a false attempt at soothing your current anguish. Once you reach the precipice again, he takes away the stimulation. A tear rolls down your cheek at the oversensitivity of your nerves. This time instead of replacing the toy under you pants, he removes them completely. He wriggles his head between your legs, inches from your core.

“You’re doing so well for me Jagi.” His breath on your sensitive skin makes you clench. You feel so over-sensitive, but you wouldn’t dare stop him, not when he just returned your beloved title. He wraps his arms around the tops of your thighs and dives in to taste you. His tongue sooths your burning clit with soft licks. The pleasure builds again but this time it is much more manageable. His tongue finds its way to your entrance, fucking you on it. You moan a little, earning you a sharp warning tap against you leg. You bring your wrist to your lips and bite down hard to stop yourself making any noises.

One arm un-snakes from you thigh and joins Taehyung’s mouth. Two digits replace his tongue as its attention returns to your clit. This time when your orgasm peaks he drives you over the edge, playing with you until the very last wave of pleasure ceases. He removes his hand and licks it clean before finally removing his shirt. Your hands immediately shoot up to touch him, but you catch yourself halfway, thinking better of it. He chuckles and grabs your wrists, pulling you towards him and letting you play. You rub up his wash board stomach, playing with the clearly defined lines.

“Can you take more Jagi.” You nod enthusiastically you gaze not leaving his stomach. He just and grabs your cheeks forcing you to meet his eyes. “You will speak to me when spoken to Jagiya.” You swallow thickly.

“Yes sir… please use me, I am your present, do with me what you see fit.” He smirks and undoes the fly on his jeans. Your mouth waters as he pulls himself free from the confines of his dark jeans. He is quick to line his beautiful cock up with you entrance, needier for you than he had let on during your punishment. No amount of foreplay ever prepared you for his size as he stretched you out. Today he was particularly brutal, not allowing time for you to adjust before using you. You relished the burn.

Each thrust felt like it could tear you apart. Your head hit the headboard multiple times, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you griped to his shoulders for dear life. Each time he ground down on your pelvis sent shivers through your body, hitting the already sore bundle of nerves every time. You shudder with a second orgasm much quicker than you expect. His face creases as you clench around him. His pace starts to slow, and you feel him getting sloppier as his end nears. A few moments later he is cumming deep inside you. Rope after rope of hot cum lands in your cervix. He pulls out and watches as his cum starts to trickle out of you.

“How long does my present last?” he asks pulling you up into his arms.

“Forever.” You whisper sleepily as he lifts you into his ensuite. He sets you on the counter and goes about clearing you up, carefully avoiding where he knows you will be most sensitive.

“Good because I have a lot more things I want to try.” he kisses you deeply and you melt into him. “Merry Christmas Jagiya.”

“Merry Christmas TaeTae"

Masterlist

Christmas stories

[jamaisjoons]

heart haunting | myg

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 you’re in love with min yoongi. you are sure of this. so why does your past lover still haunt your memories? 〞established relationship au

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: yoongi x reader; slight seokjin x reader

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: angst (god, so much angst) ⋆ fluff ⋆ smut

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 17k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: yoongi being an absolute sweetheart, reader with lots of guilt and lowkey self-hatred, general sadness, emotional cheating? is that a thing?, swearing because it’s me, smut but this one is tame bois, blowjob, fingering (f. receiving), ass play (this is as kinky as it gets), slight dirty talk, cum swallowing, penetration, multiple orgasms, creampie

➵ 𝑎/𝑛: WHAT IS UP DEMONS!!!! a bitch is finally off her exam induced writing hiatus and we start with a SAD BANG and the first instalment of the mixtape series, this took so much out of me and i went through so many emotions but i hope you enjoy it!!!!

⇥ part of the mixtape series

⏤ unedited

It’s a late Tuesday night when you find yourself on your back on Yoongi’s desk in his recording studio, so aptly named the ‘Genius Lab’. Yoongi is hovering over you, his long dexterous fingers flitting over your waist as you squeal and cry out underneath him. Your melon flavoured ice-cream has long since been abandoned, melting away on the opposite corner of Yoongi’s desk as you gasp out under his small but lean figure. Briefly, you wonder how you’d gotten yourself into this situation. Just five minutes ago, Yoongi had been hunched over his desk, large headphones covering his small ears as his slender digits played with the buttons on his various music recording and producing paraphernalia.

“Oh my god, Yoongi stop! I’m going to pee” You squeal as Yoongi continues tickling your sides, his facial features above you twisted in a gummy smile as he laughs. You place your palms on his chest and attempt to push him away, slightly kicking your legs to try and get him away from you before you truly pee yourself.

“Not until you take back what you said” Yoongi says, his fingers moving even faster and you let out a choked gasp as he forcefully draws out more squeals of laughter from you.

“Okay! Okay! I’m sorry for saying Namjoon is a better rapper than you are, now please let me go. I can’t breathe” You shriek as you finally cave in. Yoongi’s hands still, but they stay where they are, rested just above your hip bones. You gasp in deeply for air as you try to catch your breath before sending him a tender smile. Yoongi responds with his own gummy one before he leans down and steals your breath once again, except this time with a soft kiss. He continues peppering kisses all over your face, dropping light pecks on your cheeks before repeatedly kissing your forehead.

“I love you” Yoongi whispers and you nod before you lean up and kiss him again.

“Mmmm, same” You reply and Yoongi presses a kiss just on the corner of your lips before pulling himself off of you. You sit up and begin fixing your clothing as Yoongi takes his seat back on his swivelling chair, his headphones now perched around his neck.

“So, what are you working on?” You ask curiously and Yoongi sends you a small smile before beckoning you closer. You hop off of his desk and walk over to him, Yoongi adjusting himself so you can sit on his lap. Once you’re seated and in a comfortable position, he places the headphones around your ears and clicks play. You hear the slow, mellow beat begin; bopping your head to the rhythm. It has the feel of an old school RnB track and you look at him in surprise causing him to shrug.

“I was taking a break from the new album and decided to play around with new beats… or I guess experiment with old school beats” Yoongi says and you nod, taking the headphones off.

“It’s good! Do you have the lyrics for it yet?” You ask curiously and he shrugs once again.

“Not sure, nothing I have right now matches the rhythm so I’ll probably play around with it more before adding lyrics or even showing it to Namjoon and Hoseok” Yoongi informs and you nod once again. Your eyes briefly glance at the clock, widening slightly.

“Fuck, how is it already half past midnight? You wanna come home with me? It’s been a while since you’ve been over” You ask as you begin clearing away the takeout you’d both had for dinner. Yoongi continues playing around with the various buttons on his piece of tech before humming noncommittally.

“I was going to stay and work for a bit longer. You know I’m dropping my new album soon” Yoongi replies and you let out a sigh. That was one of the only downsides dating a famous and award-winning solo rapper and producer. Yoongi loved his fans and he loved making music even more. You knew how important this was to him, making his music and being a rapper had always been his dream and you were respectful of that. But most likely he hadn’t been home in days, and it had been even longer since you slept in the same bed. You missed the feel of him next to you, his strong arms wrapped around you, your body close to his own. Besides… if Yoongi wasn’t next to you, you didn’t sleep very well. And if you were faced with another sleepless night, haunted by your dreams, you were sure you’d lose the final shred of your sanity.

“Yoongi, you haven’t been home in days. And those bags under your eyes tell me that you’ve barely slept too. You’ve got all the tracks ready and you’re just editing the final touches, you can come home with me” You try and argue but Yoongi shakes his head.

“I know! But it’s dropping in less than two weeks and it needs to be perfect” Yoongi retorts and your heart pounds nervously at the thought of another night without him by your sight.

“Yoongi, I miss you. I miss sleeping with you. Please, just come home” You reply, your voice small and Yoongi turns to you. He detects the slight nervousness in your voice and observes the skittish way you move about, your eyes not really reaching him as they dart around the room. He notes the uneasiness in your movements, the slightly wringing of your hands as your feet shuffle anxiously. Finally, it dawns on him exactly why you want him to come home and his face eases into a gentle expression.

“Alright, let’s go home” Yoongi says quietly, his voice laced with understanding and the slightest hint of anguish; and you nod, not meeting his eyes. You recognise the tone of his voice, it’s the tone he always uses when you get like this and you hate yourself for it. Hate yourself for using him like this, you hate that he knows you’re using him. Hate the way it makes him feel. Hate the way he’s so understanding about it. But you know it’s beyond your control. There’s nothing you can do when it gets like this.

“Thank you” You mutter and you can see him nod from the corner of your eyes, but the sympathy in them only serves to make you feel worse. You gather all your things as you wait for Yoongi to save his projects before shutting down his computer. Once he’s done, he grabs his jackets before ushering you out the door, one of his hands on the small of your back.

The two of you walk towards his car and you move over to the passenger side, getting in before buckling yourself up. The entire ride is silent and you don’t know whether it’s just your imagination, but the atmosphere is tense and sullen and it makes you feel all the worse for it. Before long, the two of you are back at your shared apartment. You quietly place your things where they’re supposed to go before getting ready for bed.

A short while later and after your extensive bed time routine, you find yourself nestled in Yoongi’s arms for the first time in almost a week. Your chest currently faces his t-shirt covered one. One of his arms is loosely wrapped around your waist, the other cradling your head; his fingers are loosely entwined in your hair, digits combing through the hair at the nape of your neck. You let out a little sigh and snuggle further into his shoulder, letting his clean cotton scent slowly lull you to sleep.

The soft amber light of dawn streams through the bedroom window you shared with your boyfriend. Scrunching your face, you let out a quiet moan of annoyance, not wanting to leave the comfort of your bed. As you begin shifting, you hear a deep groan next to you, the arm around your waist curling and pulling you tighter; flush into the broad and hard body of said boyfriend; namely one Kim Seokjin. You let out a whine of content, instinctively melting into his warm embrace. You slowly turned around so you could face him, a sleepy smile on your face as you took in the sight of your beautiful boyfriend.

His slightly tanned face was perfectly clear and you couldn’t help but pout at how effortlessly beautiful he truly was. You lift a hand and trace his features, brushing his contrastingly dark hair out of his eyes before trailing your finger down his adorable nose and over his plump, luscious lips. You continue tracing your fingers over his face, as soft as you could so you didn’t disturb him, stopping after your fingers traced the hardened defined length of his jaw.

These were your favourite moments.

The early, quiet mornings. When the sun kissed his face, making him glow as if he were an ethereal being. When he was something so otherworldly that you had to touch him, breathe him, feel him. Lest you believe this was all a dream and he wasn’t really in front of you. Lazy mornings like this filled you with peace; you loved being held in his strong, lean arms. But you loved it more when he was awake. When his hands softly trailed over your curves, his fingertips softly flitting across your skin as he peppered lazy, gentle kisses all over your shoulders and neck.

You looked at the clock behind him, a soft groan escaping you as you realised you had to be up. You’d been admiring your boyfriend for almost fifteen minutes. You lifted his strong arm off of you, fighting away from his grip. Eventually you won, Seokjin letting out a groan of protest at the loss of your warmth before flipping onto his stomach. You let out a quiet giggle at how adorable he was before dragging yourself into the bathroom. Another fifteen minutes later you found yourself in the kitchen, searching the cupboards for ingredients.

This would probably end badly.

You were an awful cook but Seokjin was still asleep and you were hungry. Besides, it wasn’t fair to continuously rely on your boyfriend for food, no matter how good he was at cooking and how much you loved his food. On the plus side, if it turned out good, it would be a wonderful surprise breakfast for your beloved other half. As you began prepping your ingredients, the first disaster struck in the form of you cutting your thumb while you were trying to slice the tofu. You let out a yelp, followed by a hiss at the pain, sticking the appendage into your mouth instinctively. Once the pain dulled to a numb throb, you wrapped it in a Band-Aid.

Your next disaster struck when you placed the rice in a pot. Sadly, you had forgotten to add the water to the vessel and a couple minutes later, the rice had caught on fire. You swore out loud as you began fanning the area, trying to get rid of the smoke. You quickly shoved the pot under the water, the pot sizzling and steaming in your attempts at putting out the fire before opening the window to air out the smoke.

“Jagiya? What’s happening?” You heard your boyfriend call from the doorway of your bedroom once the situation was under control. You turned around, your cheeks flushed in embarrassment at your boyfriend watching you in amusement.

“Don’t laugh! I tried making breakfast and well… it didn’t end well” You replied sheepishly. Seokjin simply shook his head before walking up to you, wrapping his arms around you and placing a tender kiss onto your forehead.

“Aish Jagiya, sit down, I’ll make breakfast” Seokjin said fondly, slowly pushing you towards a seat.

“How could I refuse my perfect boyfriend’s delicious cooking?” You tease, taking a seat at the kitchen island, your elbow on the counter, face in hand as you watched him work, admiring the view.

He was always beautiful, but even more so when he was like this. Completely relaxed, a smile on his face as he expertly navigated through the kitchen, chopping vegetables masterfully as he shook the pan, flipping its contents. Half an hour later, Seokjin took a seat beside you, two bowls of hot steaming rice in front of you accompanied by soy sauce seasoned tofu, vegetable omelette, radish kimchi and Korean coleslaw.

“This looks wonderful Seokjinnie” You said sweetly, smiling brightly at him as you started eating, blowing on the rice before putting them into your mouth followed by some omelette and kimchi. You let out a soft moan, the flavours dancing along your tongue, making your taste buds water.

“Is it good Jagiya?” Seokjin asked, smiling fondly at you. You nodded enthusiastically as you continued eating, moaning at the taste.

“Jagiya stop that, only I should be making you make those noises” Seokjin said with a pout and you stuck your tongue out at him, both of you finished with your meals.

“Your cooking is the new love of my life” You teased and Seokjin let out a mock yell of anger, mockingly standing up in rage.

“I will teach you who’s the love of your life” Seokjin said, advancing on you. You choked slightly before immediately standing up and darting out of his grasp, running around the living room.

Seokjin chased after you, the two of you running in circles, around the coffee table and over the couch and into your bedroom, where he finally caught you. His arms circled around your waist, pushing you onto the bed as he fell on top of you. His hands quickly made their way to your sides, fingers wriggling as he tickled you until you were crying with tears.

“Jinnie! Seokjin! Please stop, I-I-I can’t” You stuttered, squealing with laughter until he finally gave up, his arms on either side of your head, holding his body up.

“Who’s the love of your life?” Seokjin asked and you let out a grin, arms wrapping around his shoulders, your head raising to place a soft kiss on his lips.

“You are. Of course, it’s you. Only ever you” You said in between kisses, Seokjin smiling into your lips. He placed another chaste kiss on your lips before trailing his lips down your jaw and to your collarbone, pressing a soft kiss against the tender flesh.

“I love you. But you’re not mine anymore” Seokjin says cryptically and then he disappears.

“Seokjin!” You whimper, jolting awake. The rapid thumping of your heart is loud in the quiet of the night and your pyjamas stick to your sweat-soaked skin. Your skin is flushed and throat dry as you gasp for air, breathing heavy. You blink blearily, mind racing until the fog of the dream clears and you recognise your dark bedroom. You run a hand through your slightly dampened locks, looking over to the alarm you read ‘3:14am’ through blurry, tear-filled eyes.

Scenes from your dream flash through your head and your shoulders begin shaking; a snivel slips past your lips and you quickly cover your mouth, trying to stifle the broken sobs. You briefly glance over at Yoongi. He’s on his back, mouth slightly open and soft snores escaping him. He’s completely at peace and absolutely beautiful but you find no comfort in him because your heart breaks even more, knowing that despite Yoongi being beside you, you still dreamt about your ex-boyfriend. You curl back into the sheets, body arranged in the foetal position, the sheets pulled up close to your face as you quietly cry to yourself.

The dream had felt real. All too real. It was as if you could still feel Seokjin’s touch lingering on your skin despite him being a figment of your imagination. You close your eyes, imagining his beautiful face, soft delicate features and luscious pink lips pulled into a bright smile and another low sob escapes your mouth. You silently cry into the still night, body wracking with sobs as you allow the memories to simply wash over you.

You don’t know how long you’re crying for but suddenly you feel the bed shift and Yoongi’s arms wrap around you, his body moving closer to yours until your chest is pressed against his back. Yoongi’s arm tightens around your waist; but he doesn’t say anything, instead simply allowing you to cry while he repeatedly presses light kisses against your shoulder blade. The two of you stay in that position for a long while in complete silence. He doesn’t speak the entire time. He doesn’t need to. The both of you know exactly why you’re crying and you’re ashamed to say this occurrence is more common than not.

The dreams usually stay at bay when Yoongi is sleeping beside you. But it had been so long since you’ve had him by your side that you’d been dreaming about Seokjin more and more often. You’d hoped Yoongi’s presence beside you once again would quell the heart-breaking dreams. Sadly, you were too hopeful. Dreams of your past love still plagued your sleep. But despite it all, you’re glad he’s here. Nights without Yoongi were the worst, his presence and embrace calmed you down more than you thought possible. It was a selfish need. Putting him through this and yet you couldn’t help it, no matter how much you know it’s hurting him.

Yoongi holds you until your cries settle, anguished sobs steadying into soft sniffles every now and then. Once you’ve finally managed to stifle your cries, the weight of your feelings overcomes you; your eyes heavy with fatigue as you drift off into a hopefully dreamless sleep.

The next day, you awake feeling both emotionally drained and physically exhausted. Your eyelids feel strained and your eyes prickly, as if you’d rubbed gravel in them. You let out a small groan and sit up in your bed, trying to rub the sleep out of your eyes. You still, muscles locking when you remember exactly why you were so tired. Your eyes blur with tears once again but you shake your head, blinking the tears out of eyes as you throw the duvet off of you. Your feet hit the cold wooden floors and while you normally curse the sudden coolness, today you welcome it. It feels good to have the distraction, even if it was miniscule.

You enter the adjourning bathroom, leaning over the sink and inspecting your puffy, red eyes and slightly swollen face. The dark bags under your eyes seem worse but nothing is as bad as the complete defeat and emptiness that lingers in your eyes. You swallow thickly before bending over and turning the faucet, allowing cool water to gush out. You quickly splash your face with the ice-cold water, letting it wake you up and hopefully erase some of the swelling around your face, before you begin brushing your teeth.

When you’re finally done with your morning routine, you drag yourself out of the bathroom only to find your bed empty. Your eyebrows furrow and you meander through your bedroom and into your open plan living room, where Yoongi is already at the coffee pot, brewing himself his morning coffee. You stare at his fully dressed back with guilt, last night’s memories once again flashing across the back of your mind.

“Morning” Yoongi greets gruffly, voice still heavy with sleep. Next to him, on the hob, is a frying pan full of scrambled eggs and just as you take a seat at the kitchen island, the toaster pops up with fresh toast. You inadvertently compare Yoongi’s breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast to Seokjin’s feast from your dreaming, feeling worse when you miss your ex-boyfriend even more. You watch Yoongi plate up your breakfast before placing it in front of you. He takes a seat opposite you, sipping his coffee as he scrolls through his phone, undoubtedly checking his schedule for the day.

“Morning” You mutter back quietly, picking at the eggs on your plate. If you were being honest, you weren’t exactly hungry at the moment. But you know you need the food and so you begin scooping small morsels into your mouth, swallowing it down as if it’s the hardest task in the world.

“I have to be back at the studio today. I’ll probably be gone until late,” Yoongi says, locking his phone and looking at you with soft eyes.

“Um… that’s okay. I’m probably gonna stay and work from home” You reply, trying to avoid his eyes. The guilt burns at the back of your head and you simply cannot bring yourself to look at his understanding, completely empathetic eyes. It’s more than you deserve right now.

“That’s alright. Do… do you need me to come home early tonight?” Yoongi plainly asks and you wince slightly at how brazen he’s being. You quickly shake your head. Honestly, you would rather have him home earlier. You’d rather him stay at home while you both curl around each other, letting his presence put any thoughts of your ex-boyfriend far in the back of your mind. But the remorse and shame from putting him through everything weighs too heavily on your shoulders and you know if he returns earlier, your own guiltiness will drive you insane.

“Are you sure?” Yoongi asks and you nod, more certainly this time, “alright, if you’re sure. I have to go in a few minutes” Yoongi says as he finished the last of his coffee. You watch him get up and wander around your apartment, grabbing his keys and shoes before pulling his jacket off of the hook.

“I think that’s everything. I’m going to head off” Yoongi says, walking up to you and pressing his lips against your temple in a soft kiss. A small part of you melts into the action but the bigger part of you reaches out to grab him just as he’s about to pull away.

“Yoongi… I’m sorry about last night” You whisper quietly, voice low as your fist tightens around his shirt. Yoongi sighs from beside you, his much larger palm untangling your hand from his shirt, only to entwine his fingers with yours. He pulls your hand up to his lips and presses a soft kiss against the tips of your fingers.

“Don’t be. I love you” Yoongi says and your eyes clench at the utterly sympathetic tone, his words simply fanning your guilt.

“I… same” You respond, voice just barely audible. He presses another kiss to the top of your head before exiting your apartment, leaving you completely alone.

Some days are better than others.

On these days, Seokjin barely enters your mind. In fact, he’s so far out that you don’t even remember your first love and consequently your first heartbreak. On the good days you barely remember what it was like to be with Seokjin or how much his absence in your life leaves you completely heartbroken and empty. These are the days when you’re consumed by Yoongi. When he is all that is on your mind. With his paler skin, small lean frame, small pretty features and gummy smile. These days are filled with his deep voice, sarcastic comments sprinkled with words of affection and his tell-tale clean cotton scent. These are some of your favourite days because these are the days when you live in the present, focused more on your future with your boyfriend rather than dwelling on your past memories of lost love.

Today is one of those good days. Yoongi had released his new album a month ago and had been met with nothing but positive reviews. He had topped the charts and beaten the record for most number 1s previously set by Namjoon with the latter’s latest album ‘mono’. Yoongi was slowly riding out the records, collecting award after award for the masterpiece that was ‘Agust D 2’. However, that also meant that Yoongi was now on a break before he undoubtedly went back to producing, and thus you were able to spend more time with your boyfriend.

Hence, you and Yoongi find yourselves sitting on the grass in a small park in Seoul, overlooking a group of kids, who looked no older than nine, playing baseball under the supervision of their parents and guardians. Granted, the two of you weren’t the only onlookers. Small groups of both adults and children, all of who had decided to take advantage of the good weather, were watching the children run around chasing the ball. You and Yoongi sat just slightly to the side, having an unobstructed, front row view of the game. You watched as a little girl ran in front of the pitcher, a helmet a little too big for her situated on her head.

“Gods, as much as I’m enjoying the show, this is giving me flashbacks to phys. ed. in high school” You groaned, shuddering slightly at the memory. Yoongi laughed from beside you as he snacked on some dried squid. You watched the girl swing her bat, the both of your joining the cheers of the onlookers when she hit the ball.

“It couldn’t have been that bad” Yoongi says and you turn to him, snorting in response. You grabbed the box of Pepero from his side before shoving a chocolate covered biscuit stick into your mouth.

“No, it wasn’t bad. It was god awful. They once tried to make me play basketball and you know what happened? Within two minutes I’d somehow managed to sprain my fingers and couldn’t write properly for the next week” You retort, Yoongi chuckling at you.

“I can imagine you doing that. I wasn’t all that into phys. ed. either but if there was one sport I loved playing it was basketball. In fact, I was on the team, I played shooting guard” Yoongi says proudly and you stare at him in mock surprise.

“Really? I had no idea. It’s not like your stage name Suga comes from that position or anything” You reply back sarcastically, Yoongi lets out a little pout before poking your side causing you to yelp in surprise.

“There’s no need for unnecessary sarcasm” Yoongi replies and you gape at him before letting out a bemused cackle.

“This coming from the king of sarcastic comments? Real rich babe” You snicker causing Yoongi to shrug, an easy smile on his face as he watched the children run around as they continued their baseball game.

“Why does it seem like you want to go join them?” You ask, tilting your head to the side, a small smile on your face at the easiness in your boyfriend’s posture.

“I don’t” Yoongi says suddenly, a small blush on his face as he ducks his head. Your eyes widen slightly in disbelief before you let out a little guffaw. He did want to join the children. You suddenly paused, an image of an older Yoongi popping in your head, surrounded by two children, who looked like a suspicious blend of the two of you, playing basketball. You quickly shook your head, a light blush dusting your cheeks.

“Oh, but you do! I can’t tell Yoongles. You wanna go play baseball with the little kids. That’s so cute” You gush and Yoongi very easily hears the slight teasing inclination to your voice. He lets out a little huff, cocking his head to the side, small lips pulling into a pout.

“Don’t call me Yoongles” Yoongi huffs making you giggle at his childlike actions. You shift closer towards him, until your sides are almost touching. Resting your head on his shoulder, you look up at him with a small smile before pressing a soft kiss to his lower jaw. Yoongi’s shoulders relax slightly, his hand automatically wrapping around your waist.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute” Yoongi mumbles before leaning over, taking your lips between his. You smile into his kiss, your lips moving slowly, softly over each other’s in a gentle kiss.

“Ew!” Comes a random high-pitched voice and you laugh into the kiss before pulling away.

“Stupid cockblocking kids” Yoongi grumbles under his breath with a small tut. You raise your eyebrow in amusement at your boyfriend, wondering how he shifts from pouty child to ornery old man in the space of two seconds.

“We are in public and there are kids are around us babe” You reply, Yoongi tutting once again.

Suddenly, Yoongi rocks back until he’s completely laying on the picnic blanket. He pulls you down with him, a startled yelp escaping you. You look up at him from your position, your head is laying in the crook between his shoulder and arm, Yoongi’s chest directly in your line of sight. He’s got one arm wrapped around your shoulder loosely, the other cushioning his head. You bite your lip as Yoongi closes his eyes, drawing your body closer to him.

“Well if we can’t kiss, then we may as well take a nap yes?” Yoongi suggests and you glance around nervously.

“Yoongi, what if someone tries to rob us?” You ask and Yoongi sighs.

“We only have our phones, unless they want to steal snacks. In which case they can go for it. But we can put our phones between our bodies,” Yoongi says, slipping both his and your phones between the two of you, “happy?” Yoongi asks and you nod with a sigh.

“I can’t believe you want to take a nap, it’s like 4pm” You tut making Yoongi scoff.

“There is no specific time to nap you know. You can take a nap whenever you want. There’s no law to stop you” Yoongi replies smartly, causing you to huff.

“I don’t know why I even bother. Alright old man, let’s nap” You tease, snuggling in closer to him. Yoongi’s hand moves towards your lower back and all of a sudden, he pinches, causing you to jerk away.

“Ow! What was that for?” You hiss in indignation. Yoongi cracks one eye open, eyebrow raising in a fashion that denotes ‘are you really asking that?’.

“If I wasn’t so sleepy, I’d take us both home and show you exactly who you’re calling old. But, I’ll settle for showing you later tonight” Yoongi says, voice gruff. Your face heats up immediately, your face burying into his chest to hide your embarrassment.

“God, I hate you sometimes” You reply, voice muffled by his chest, but there’s no real venom in your tone, only fond exasperation, causing Yoongi to reply with a noncommittal hum.

You realise that’s the last response you’re going to get from your boyfriend. You move your head slightly, allowing yourself to look up at his face from your position on his shoulder. His eyes are closed, small eyelashes resting on his cheeks. His lips are slightly pouty and while small, look incredibly delicate and soft; you have the sudden urge to lean over and kiss him. Instead, you shift again, laying your head more onto his chest as you try to get comfortable, moulding yourself into his side.

Closing your eyes, you absentmindedly doodle on his chest, the light breeze wafting against you every now and then as his calming scent of clean cotton fills your sense. You close your eyes with a smile, relishing in the calmness of the atmosphere, even with the sounds of children playing, people wandering about and dogs barking.

Everything is good.

These are the days you love the most. The good days. The better days. When you are at peace, with the boyfriend you love so much napping by your side. With the stillness of the breeze and the feel of the warm sunshine on your skin. When thoughts of your ex-boyfriend are so far out of your mind, you don’t even remember that he had broken your heart or that you were scarred very deeply by the loss of your first love.

“Yoongi, oh my gosh, how much further?” You whine childishly, a small pout on your face as you stare at the back of your boyfriend’s figure.

“It’s just a little further” Yoongi huffs, more than likely getting tired of your whining. You scrunch your nose and stick your tongue out to the back of his head. Another few minutes later, you and Yoongi arrive at an almost secluded pier.

The sun is low in the day but still bright enough, highlighting the beautiful blue hues of the ocean, the sun rays causing the water to sparkle with every small wave. You look around, spotting people looking almost as small as ants further down the beach. There’re only a few people around the pier, most sitting in solitude either looking out at the sea or with fishing rods. Your eyes narrow slightly, the place looks somewhat familiar to you, but you aren’t entirely sure why. You shrug it off, most beaches look the same and that was probably where you were getting your déjà vu from.

“I like to come fishing here. It’s more secluded, people leave you alone and I don’t need to worry about fans coming up to me because the only people who come here are older men that want to fish in peace” Yoongi explains and you nod, placing your stuff down at one end of the large pier. Yoongi begins pulling out his fishing rod and starts setting up as you help him.

You breathe in deeply, smiling softly at the sea salted breeze. It’s a refreshing get away and as the sun warms your skin, you let out a wide smile. It’s been so long since you’ve been to the beach that you’d forgotten just how much you’d loved it. You watch Yoongi set himself up before sitting down at the pier. You look over the wooden boards, eyes lighting up with excitement as you spot small movements under the clear water. You turn back to your boyfriend who looks more than ready to fish. He’s dressed in a long sleeve black t-shirt with matching black jeans and a cute beige woven sun hat resting upon his head. He’s wearing nothing that looks like beach wear and a small part of you wonders how he’s not overheating.

“Gods you’re such an old man” You jeer taking in the adorable, excited look on his face as he throws his line into the water. Yoongi’s head snaps towards you, slightly tilted up so he can see you tower above him. His eyes are slightly scrunched, avoiding the bright sunlight and you have to fight the urge to gush over how adorably cute he looks.

“Stop calling me old! You’re like two years younger than me” Yoongi grunts out before returning to fishing. You let out a tinkling laugh, before shrugging and taking a seat beside him, legs dangling over the edge.

“Maybe, but I’m not the one who acts like a grumpy old grandpa” You tease, Yoongi nudging you slightly with your shoulder in response, causing you to let out another giggle.

You playfully dangle your legs over the side, more than happy to simply take in the sights while Yoongi fishes, the two of you sitting in easy silence, speaking every now and then. That was the beauty of Yoongi. You didn’t have to always speak when on dates; the both of you were more than happy to just sit in silence and enjoy each other’s presence. There was no awkward small talk or forced conversations. You more than enjoyed days like this, just sitting under the sun and basking in each other’s presence.

You spot a seagull flying overhead and tilt your head, following the bird with an easy smile. You watch as it flies off, disappearing somewhere behind you. Just as you’re about to turn back to Yoongi however, you spot a flash of a familiar figure from the corner of your eye. Your blood freezes, eyes wide and heart thumping. You quickly turn around, and catch the back of his wide shoulders and narrow back before he vanishes into thin air. You take in a shaky breath of air, eyes drooping slightly. Your heart quickens and your palms become sweaty and all of a sudden you can remember exactly why this place feels familiar.

You’ve been here.

More specifically, you used to come here with Seokjin. You’re at the secluded pier in Daecheon Beach, which consequently was also Seokjin’s favourite fishing spot. Suddenly, he’s all you can think about. You turn back, facing the water once again as you try to shake the thought of him out of your mind. You shuffle slightly away from Yoongi, your body trembling as the force of your feelings return. Your fists clench, nails pressing into your palms as you try and bring yourself back under control. You cannot do this. Not now, not when you and Yoongi were enjoying yourselves.

Yoongi.

You turn to him, watching the way he sits relaxed as he continues to fish. The silence between the two of you that had once been calming and even appreciated was now tainted. Because now, without Yoongi’s voice to distract you, you can feel yourself slowly receding into your memory. Now everything feels different. And you hate yourself for it, but you can’t help but compare Yoongi to Seokjin. It’s not fair. You know it’s not.

But now all you can think about is how Seokjin used to bring you here, and how you’d sit side by side as he’d crack jokes or make awful puns that resulted in his squeaky windshield wiper laugh and consequently your own laugh from how happy and infectious his laugh was. Suddenly, all you can think about is how different Yoongi and Seokjin are. Yoongi, with his small build and pretty gummy smile compared to Seokjin’s tall, wide shouldered build and toothy smile. Yoongi, who likes to sit in silence and fish, enjoying each other’s presence compared to Seokjin who hated the silence and preferred filling it up with his trademark dad jokes. And it’s not fair. It’s not fair that you have an amazing, next to perfect boyfriend and yet all you can do is think about the boyfriend who is no longer yours. Who could never be yours again.

“____? You okay?” Yoongi asks and you snap your head towards him. Yoongi frowns at you, taking in your quivering lip and glazed over eyes.

“I’m fine” You reply, but your voice is quiet and croaky. Yoongi’s eyes narrow, wondering just what could have happened in the space of a few minutes while he was more focused on fishing. He can’t think of a single reason for you to have been set off. Well, he can. But as far as he’s aware, there’s no reason for you to have been set off. Nothing here could possibly have reminded you of him.

“Are you sure?” Yoongi asks wearily and you nod quickly, once again trying to shake thoughts of Seokjin out of your mind.

“Alright- oh! Oh, I caught something. Do you want to help reel it in?” Yoongi asks and you nod once again, hoping it will take your mind off of things. But as he moves to let you grab the rod, you hesitate.

Suddenly, you remember the way you and Seokjin would reel in any fish caught together. You remember the way he’d call you ‘Jagi’ and whine if you lost the fish or the way he’d get excited and kiss you every time you successfully caught something. You don’t mean to compare them, but you simply can’t help it because the situation is all too familiar to you. You don’t say anything, you don’t even bring up Seokjin’s name. But Yoongi senses the shift in your mood; he can feel it in the way you hesitate. He knows.

You can see it in the way his eyes drop and his gaze shifts, the blank expression of stoicism once again on his face. But his eyes. His eyes betray him and once again you can see the inkling of torment in his eyes, masked by the look of recognition and sympathy. Once again, the guilt washes over you and you hate yourself. Hate yourself for being unable to move on, hate yourself for putting Yoongi through this, hate yourself for needing him and loving him despite your heart and mind aching for someone else.

“Something’s wrong. Tell me” Yoongi says, voice plain and nonchalant but his eyes continue to betray him. Your throat feels dry, almost as if you’d stood in the Sahara desert with your mouth wide open, allowing the hot sun rays to completely dry out your throat. You swallow thickly and look away. Yoongi waits for you to answer, and a part of you wants to sit in silence and refuse to answer him. Because admitting it out loud means that he knows, knows without any shadow of a doubt, that while you were beside him, you were thinking of someone else. That you were emotionally betraying him. But Yoongi waits, he sits in stoic silence and simply waits for you to say something and you know you have no choice but to say the words out loud.

“I- We used to come here together. Me and him. This was his favourite fishing spot” You finally say, voice quiet and full of anguish because you know that your words are going to hurt him and you can’t bear the thought of hurting Yoongi; sweet innocent Yoongi who never asked for this. Who knows that despite how much you love him, you yearn for someone else, someone you can’t have. The same Yoongi who has shown you nothing but love and understand. And you hate yourself even more. Hate how you hurt him, break his heart over and over again and yet need him, for he’s the last bit of solace you have in this world.

You watch Yoongi grit his teeth, his jaw clenching as he stares off into the distant ocean. His rod is placed beside him, the fish he had caught long since gone. You bite your lip, willing him to say something, anything. But he simply sits there, fist clenched with grit teeth, jaw twitching every now and then and you can’t help but want to reach out and hold him, try and placate him somehow. But you don’t have the right. You know you don’t. Any other time, yes. But not right now, not when you’re hurting him like this. A couple moments pass and then he relaxes, breathing out heavily.

“Do you want to leave?” Yoongi asks and once again you hesitate. Yes. Of course, you want to leave. This place, when you had first entered, had been fun and light and you’d enjoyed every single moment with Yoongi. But now, now it was tainted and you hated yourself and your brain for ruining this day. Today was supposed to be fun. You and Yoongi were supposed to sit and enjoy a few hours of fishing before eating the picnic the two of you had packed. But now everything is tainted, painted red with your memories of Seokjin and you want to leave.

But that’s exactly why you hesitate. You can see how hurt Yoongi is. You can see the slight defeat in his body language. See the slight slump of his shoulder. You wonder what’s going through that enigmatic mind of his. Whether he’s wondering if you’ll ever be rid of the ghost of your ex-boyfriend, wondering if you’ll ever be able to simply just be with him. These are the reasons you hesitate because you know you can’t keep doing this. You know you can’t keep betraying him like this. You can’t keep the past from haunting your future.

“Uh- no. No. let’s stay. I want to stay. That was all in the past. You’re the one I’m with now. You’re the one I want to be here with” You reply, swallowing thickly. Yoongi’s face lightens up slightly, his body perking up as he looks at you in perplexity. You hate that. Hate his sudden disbelief and surprise. As if choosing him over Seokjin was completely new to him, completely surprising and unthinkable. You hate that you did that to him.

“Are you sure?” Yoongi asks, voice quiet, as if expecting you to change your mind.

“I’m sure. I want to be here. With you. Just you” You reply and Yoongi nods, a small smile on his face. You scooch closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder as he continues to fish.

The two of you sit like that for what feels like hours. Realistically it’s only been an hour, maybe less. But the tension is thick and it only aides in making the time pass by slowly. The two of you sit in silence once again. Every now and then you open your mouth to say something, but you don’t know what to say. There’s nothing really you can say. You want to apologise but really, what do the words means when your actions speak much louder. There’s so much at the tip of your tongue but it’s all meaningless because you know what you’ve done, you know how you’ve made him feel. And suddenly, nothing is enough. There aren’t enough words in any language to make things better. It’s getting later in the day, the time passing slowly as the silence mocks the two of you and soon the sun will begin setting. You finally bring up the courage to touch Yoongi on the shoulder, pushing his rod to the side.

“The sun’s going to set soon, do you wanna watch it with me?” You ask nervously. Your eyes are slightly downcast and you pull your lip between your teeth, worrying it. You can feel Yoongi’s calculating gaze on you and briefly wonder whether he’s going to reject it. Reject you. You wouldn’t fault him if he does.

He doesn’t.

Yoongi puts down his rod, placing it beside him before nodding. You scooch closer towards him, practically pressing your side against him as you once again rest your head on his shoulder. Yoongi turns his head and kisses your temple before pulling your hand into his, entwining your finger’s together. He places your hand in his lap before leaning his head on top of yours. The two of you sit in silence once again, Yoongi absentmindedly playing with your fingers. This time, the silence isn’t as tense, but back to being easy and companionable.

Briefly, you think you see the same figure walk past again but this time, you ignore it. This time, you curl further into Yoongi’s embrace, turning your head and placing a light kiss on his neck. The time, you choose to enjoy the sunset with Yoongi. Choose to enjoy the way he feels against your body, the way he smells, the way he plays with your small fingers with his larger, slender ones. This time, you choose Yoongi.

Today, you think, is a wonderful day. Lately, Yoongi has been busy, he’s an award-winning solo rapper and music producer after all. One of the best producers in his company. Hence despite his latest album just being released two months ago, he’s already busy helping other artists in the company produce their albums. As a result, his work load has almost tripled and it means you haven’t been able to spend as much time with your boyfriend. But today, is one of his very few day offs. Consequently, today is also a day you both go out on a date.

Yoongi has managed to rent out a small music shop in an even smaller street just on the outskirts of Seoul. He’s currently sat beside you, expert fingers dancing across the keys of the piano. You’re leaning against the polished wood of the instrument, watching the way he loses himself in the sound and rhythm of the song. It’s a song you know well, one full of emotion. He doesn’t need to rap the lyrics, you know the song, ‘First Love’, like the back of your hand. But the way he plays, the deep sounds of the piano and hauntingly chilling and less upbeat without the extra background instruments and music.

Somehow, you fall in love with him all over again. The way he closes his eyes and plays, the way his body is relaxed, the way he loves music. It all resonates deep within your heart and just as Yoongi loses himself in his music, you lose yourself in Yoongi. You love him. You more in love with him than you’ve ever been before. You know this, know it as well as you know the back of your hand.

You continue staring at him, just watching the way he plays. For the briefest moment, you remember a similar memory, locked far away in your head. A memory of Seokjin playing the guitar for you, the way he’d strum the strings and sing in that beautiful voice of his. But just as quickly as the memory enters your mind, it fades away. You’re too lost in Yoongi, too fixated on the man you’re currently in love with. In fact, you barely even register the memory as painful, instead remembering it with fondness before once again focusing on the piano player in front of you.

The two of you spend another hour or so in the record shop, letting Yoongi attempt to teach you how to play. It doesn’t work very well, you’ve never been good with instruments and that wouldn’t change in one single day. You do applaud Yoongi’s patience with you throughout the entire day however. Sadly, Yoongi has to go back to the studio and with a long kiss, the two of you part.

You practically skip the entire way home; your smile so wide people probably assume you’re a bit crazy. But you don’t care. You love Yoongi. You’re in love with Min Yoongi and you’d willingly shout it to the world at this point. A small, very minuscule part of you feels guilty. Guilty that you’re forgetting Seokjin and moving on. But the larger part of you doesn’t care. The larger part of you is ready to move on because that very same part is madly, head over heels in love with Yoongi.

However, it all comes crashing down the minute you enter your apartment.

Some days are good.

Some days are worse.

Today simply happens to be the worst of the worst.

Because for some reason Seokjin is standing in front of you. It’s impossible, you know it is. But there he is, looking as handsome as he did the day he disappeared from your life once and for all. Your eyes are impossibly wide, gaze trailing over him with disbelief. It’s impossible. You’re going crazy. Perhaps this is all because you feel guilty, but there he is. Your keys drop to the floor and your body quivers; you can feel yourself on the cusp of breaking down, large tears threatening to spill.

“H-how? What are you doing here? How, how are you here? You can’t be here” You stammer out, but he just looks at you from his position by the living room window, sending you a furtive glance.

“You know exactly how I’m here” Seokjin says cryptically and his voice sounds foreign to you, it’s his but it’s not. It’s been so long since you’ve heard it.

“I don’t… I don’t understand” You reply and Seokjin shrugs, a small secretive smile on his face. He glances at the keys on the floor and you quickly bend over, picking them up.

“You never changed the locks, did you? Not that you really needed to. I’m the one that left after all. Disappeared from your life in a flash” Seokjin chuckles, his tone is completely brazen and it’s like you’re reliving it all over again. The way he was in your life one minute and then gone the next.

“I thought you’d have moved out. The place looks nice, different but nice I guess” He comments as he looks around and you want to go up to him, touch him. But you can’t, and you know exactly why you can’t. So instead, you stand frozen in the entry of your doorway, gaping at him with tear filled eyes.

“I almost did” you confess, “move out that is. But there are too many memories here, both good and bad” You breathe out. This was the same apartment you and Seokjin had moved into back when the two of you had started university. The two of you had always talked about moving out once you graduated. Alas, that had never happened. You were still here. In the same small apartment from when you and Seokjin were still together. It was almost like a symbol, just how you were stuck in this apartment, your heart and mind were stuck in the past, lost between Seokjin and Yoongi.

“Yeah. I know. Do you love him? You know, the new guy” Seokjin asks, his head cocking to the side slightly.

“I do. A lot” You reply tersely and Seokjin laughs, you heart griping at the familiar squeaky laugh. But it’s not the same. It’s somewhat distorted. You remember it. But not very well. It’s been so long.

“More than you loved me?” Seokjin asks, eyes sparkling with mirth, a small smirk on his face. You hate him. Hate him for driving you this crazy.

“No” it’s a simple answer, you don’t even need to hesitate or think it through, “I could never love someone the way I loved you. But I do love him. Different to the way I loved you, but just as much” You follow up, voice shaky. Seokjin laughs once again and before he levels his gaze at you, a dark smirk on his face.

“Do you fuck him in our bed?” He asks and a shiver runs up your spine. You close your eyes and shake your head.

“I got rid of the bed. I… I couldn’t keep it any longer” You reply, unsure why you did. This is just your mind taunting you. Your guilt manifesting as your deepest, darkest fears. You feel like you’re forgetting him. You don’t want to.

“Hmm. I wouldn’t blame you if you did. You moved on, what? A year and a half after I left? And now you’re slowly forgetting me” Seokjin says simply, his tone slightly accusatory.

“No! No. I could never forget you” You reply earnestly, arguing more with yourself than anything but Seokjin shakes his head.

“You forgot me today. And that day when you went fishing. You’re slowly getting over me. Slowly forgetting me. What happens then? Will I cease to exist in your memory? Will you ever remember me? Or will I become a faceless person in your past?” Seokjin asks, head cocked to the side and his words cause your heart to ache, your bones to tremor and the tears to finally spill.

“I’ll remember. I’ll always remember. I could never forget. I remember the smell of your cologne. I remember the way you used to sing in the shower and the way you’d bring me breakfast in the morning. I remember your birthday and your brother’s favourite song. I remember the way you’d hold me at night and the sound of your breathing the nights I’d lay awake next to you, watching you sleep. I remember. I remember everything. I remember you. More than I want to. I could never forget you but I can’t keep loving you. I can’t keep living in the past. So please… just let me move on” You cry, voice trembling. Seokjin approaches you slowly and you shake your head, letting the tears roll down your cheeks.

“I need you to leave. Please just leave. I can’t do this anymore. You can’t be here” You gasp out, breath in staggered shudders as you slowly find it harder and harder to breathe. He’s so close now. Close enough to touch. Close enough to reach out to. But you don’t. Instead, he just walks past you before disappearing. As soon as he vanishes you let out a small wail, dropping to your knees before sobbing, crying out for everything you loved and lost. You cry for the unfairness of it all. You cry for Yoongi, who doesn’t deserve any of this. You cry for Seokjin because you miss him, more and more each day. But most importantly, you cry for yourself; because no matter what you know his memory will always haunt you. You cry because you know no matter what, you’ll always love him.

It’s been almost two weeks since the debacle that you were now calling The Incident™. You haven’t told Yoongi anything, you absolutely refuse to. Things were slowly getting better and you didn’t want the slight setback to ruin anything. You and Yoongi were doing good and he was much happier now. He no longer looked at you sadly every now and then, he no longer gave you the knowing look. Which was exactly why instead of speaking to him about The Incident™ you hide it for him, instead bottling up all your emotions.

So, you pretend everything is fine. Pretend that everything is good and that you’ve been coping better. You pretend that your emotions aren’t eating you alive inside. You pretend that you don’t miss Seokjin and pretend that there aren’t times when you wish Yoongi was Seokjin. You pretend that you don’t sometimes imagine Seokjin holding you at night instead of Yoongi or that it isn’t Yoongi you’re sleeping next to but Seokjin. You pretend and pretend and pretend. It’s awful and you know it is. Which is why you pretend that your guilt isn’t slowly consuming you from the inside out. It’s a vicious cycle.

Of course, there are good days and bad days. But lately, it seems like it’s all bad. There are brief moments you forget about Seokjin and don’t have to pretend. But those moments are few and far between. Lately all you can think about is Seokjin and your emotions are slowly killing you, breaking you apart. Some days it’s easier because Yoongi is working and you can go days without seeing him and you can live in your memories of Seokjin. Others, Yoongi is beside you and you have to pretend.

Today is another day you’re pretending.

Today is one of the few days Yoongi has off and as a result, the two of you find yourself nestled in bed, your laptop between the two of you as you sit and watch films on Netflix. Your head is currently laying on Yoongi’s chest, his hand rested on your back as it slowly traces up and down your body. You squirm against him, the movement of his fingers only serving to turn you on.

It’s been just over a good two weeks since you slept with Yoongi. Your body was craving sex at this point, but with how much you’d been pretending lately, you didn’t want to take any chances and so you’d shied away from Yoongi’s advances. Thankfully, for one week, you had been on your period. But now you had no excuses other than not wanting to. Which was a lie. You wanted sex. Your body craved it. But again, you didn’t want to take any chances.

But as Yoongi’s hand move up and down your back, your eyes flutter shut and you breathe in deeply, heat pooling in your belly. Your resolve is slowly vanishing with each passing second. Yoongi’s hand dips into the waistband of your panties, large palm resting on your ass. The cold of his hand against the heat of your ass has you throwing all caution to the wind. You shift from your position on his chest, stretching over and drawing his lips in for a kiss.

Yoongi quickly sits up, pulling you closer to him by your neck as he licks your lips, deepening the kiss. You moan into his mouth, your tongues lashing against each other. Yoongi’s hands slip into your hair from the nape of your neck, fingers clutching your locks and tugging you deeper into the kiss. You gasp slightly at the pain before Yoongi breaks the kiss. He tugs at your hair once again, this time pulling your head back and exposing your neck. He runs his nose along the flesh, pressing bruising kisses along the column of your throat.

Yoongi pulls away from his mission to litter the supple skin of your neck with hickeys, his hands moving to the hem of your t-shirt before pulling it off and leaving you in nothing but your panties. Similarly, you reach over and pull his t-shirt off of him, revealing pale smooth skin. You push Yoongi over, crawling on top of him so that you’re straddling his body. His hands move to your hips, fingers digging into the skin as you trail your lips down his neck and to his nipples. Your tongue slides out to swirl around his dark hardened bud, drawing out a small whine from your boyfriend.

Soon you reach the waistband of his boxers, kissing the band before slowly peeling them off of his skin, leaving him completely naked. You lick your lips at the sight, his cock standing completely erect, twitching every now and then. Small black hairs are neatly trimmed and his balls are round and so full. You reach over, a small hand wrapping around the slight curve of his shaft. You’d forgotten how long and veiny he was, with a pretty mushroom cockhead. You slowly pump him up and down, in slight awe of how hard he is.

Yoongi moves so that he’s kneeling, hands tangling into your hair as you stay bent over on all fours. You kiss the tip of his erect cock, slowly opening your mouth to suck at the tip of his dick. Your lips wrap around his head, slowly suckling the tip into your mouth as precum drips out and coats your tongue in the slightly salty substance. Yoongi lets out a little moan, thrusting into your mouth slightly as he urges you to take him deeper into your mouth. You willingly swallow more of him, tongue swirling around the engorged head, groaning at the taste of his precum.

You began bobbing your head, taking more and more of his hard length into your mouth. Yoongi began thrusting his hips gradually, forcing more and more of his cock into your mouth until you took in his whole shaft, your nose pressed against his pelvic bone. He watched with rapt fascination as you stared at him through half lidded eyes, his fists tightening around your head and pulling your head down harder, your tongue circling around the bell of his penis before licking the underside. Yoongi let out a small whine at the action and you smile from under him, enjoying the pleasure you wrought on his body. Yoongi thrusts harder into your mouth, losing himself in the feel of your lips wrapped tightly around his shaft, letting out a small groan whenever you flick your tongue against his slit, licking the precum.

“Fuck it’s been so long since I’ve had your mouth on me sweetheart. Do you like this? Do you like the way I taste?” Yoongi asks and you nod from under him. Yoongi was salty, slightly bitter and deliciously thick. A combination that drove you wild. You loved to taste him, loved when he came in your mouth so you could swallow him down. He tastes different to Seokjin, who was sharper and sweeter. You metaphorically bite your tongue, hating that even now you were still thinking about Seokjin.

You try to focus more on sucking Yoongi’s cock, licking at the underside before swirling around his cock as you bob up and down. You’re slowly coating his cock in your saliva, the mixture of your spit and his precum turning him into a sticky mess. While you continue sucking Yoongi off, his hand moves down your back to the flesh globes of your ass, hands brushing against your soft skin before trailing to your dripping panty covered slit. He pushes your underwear to the side before tracing a finger up and down your wet folds, making your eyes roll back into your skull at the sudden simulation.

Yoongi smirks from above you, slowly sliding a digit into your wet, slick heat until it is knuckle deep. You mewl around his dick, shaking your ass slightly as you silently beg for more, the vibrations around his cock driving him wilder and causing him to increase the speed of his thrusting hips as he begins fucking your mouth. Yoongi slips another finger into your honeyed hole, pumping both his digits in and out, twisting and curling them. You let out a chorus of mewls as he brushes against that soft spot inside your pussy, cunt pulsing around his fingers as you continue gushing your arousal around his hand.

Your teeth graze against the base of his shaft, his cockhead nestled down your throat as you try not to gag and choke. Tingles of pleasure run along your spine and down to your toes as Yoongi continues his ministrations. You move one of your hands to his balls, palming and squeezing the sensitive organs. Yoongi snarls at the action, snapping his hip and forcing himself further down your throat. You struggle to swallow around him, instead gagging and coating his dick in another layer of spit. Yoongi pulls out one of his fingers from your cunt, moving it up to your asshole before tracing the puckered rim. You gasp against his dick as he slowly pushes the slick covered digit into your ass, hips squirming at the somewhat foreign feeling.

You stiffen as he slowly thrusts one finger into your ass, the other buried deep into your pussy, wiggling slowly against your sweet spot. You slump slightly against Yoongi, making him increase the pace of his fingers and the speed of his thrusts. You suck at him harder, bucking and trashing your hips against his fingers as you feel the coil in your abdomen heat up and clench. You’re almost at the cusp of your orgasm, dangling just of the edge. You feel Yoongi’s balls tighten in the palm of your hand, rolling and massaging them in your hands as you try to make him cum quicker, your own end nearing.

"Oh, oh fuck, I'm cumming" Yoongi groans, gritting his teeth as he continued pumping his fingers into you. Suddenly, he removes his finger from your pussy, instead pushing it into your ass, stretching out the tight passage. You whimper at the slight stinging of the stretch, arching your back as you’re suddenly pushed over the edge. Your pussy clamps almost painfully around nothing, clenching and unclenching as you gush, moaning and mewling against his throbbing cock while you cum. The feeling of your wet mouth and vibration of your groans pushes Yoongi off of the edge; he thrusts his hip as hard as he can, forcing himself down your thrust before cumming. You feel his cum shoot down the back of your throat, swallowing the warm liquid eagerly and making sure you don’t waste a single drop.

“Fuck. I love you” Yoongi muttered, pulling you off of his dick before kissing you, tasting himself.

You kiss him back fervently, your fingers burying into his thick locks as you tug him closer. Yoongi flips the two of you over before pushing you down onto the bed. He pulls your underwear down your hips and off of your legs before brushing his hands up your long limbs, until they were resting on your thighs. He slowly moves his palms until his fingers are spread over the soft inner flesh of your thighs before slowly spreading you open. He watches the way your dripping petals slowly open up for him, moaning as he stares at your soaked cunt. Yoongi slowly leans over, pressing a kiss against your clit. You whine, shaking your head before pulling him up until he’s hovering over you.

“I need you in me” You breathe out. One of Yoongi’s hands moves to cup your pussy, thumb brushing against your clit. You shudder under him, throwing your head to the side as he bends over, kissing your neck.

“I want to eat you out” Yoongi whines and you shake your head, fingers digging into his shoulders.

“I need you in me. Please” You practically beg. Yoongi groans at the neediness in your voice before nodding. He shifts above you, moving so his hands cage you between both his arms. His hips move slightly and you buck when the tip of his cock brushes against your pulsing cunt. You lean up, drawing him in for a kiss as he slowly slides his cock into your waiting pussy. You moan as he slowly enters you, his girth stretching your pussy out. Yoongi breaks off your kiss with a hiss, burying his face into the crook of your neck at the feel of your cunt walls clamping around his cockhead. He continues pushing more and more into you, your thighs spreading, knees bending as you accept more and more of him into you.

Finally, when he’s completely embedded deep into your pussy, his cockhead kissing your cervix, he stills. You look up at him through hazy, half lidded eyes, completely lost in the way he opens you up. Yoongi stills for a couple moments, allowing you to get used to his size before pulling out and thrusting in once again, this time in one smooth glide. You let out a choked-out moan, your legs kicking until they were wrapped around his waist, using his hips as leverage to push into his slow but hard thrusts.

Yoongi moved his head from your neck, trailing his lips across your collarbone as he pressed soft kisses against your delicate skin. He adjusted his angle, thrusting in once again, head brushing against your g-spot. You stilled, your body heating up as you felt inexplicable pleasure. Your nerve endings caught on fire, as if being constantly shocked every time Yoongi thrust into you. Yoongi moaned from above you when he felt your pussy gush around him, your cunt spasming against his cock. You let out a small whine when Yoongi thrusts harder into you, impaling you over and over again with harsh thrusts. The intensity of his cock plunging into you has your body shuddering and quivering. You feel every vein and ridge of his dick dragging against your pussy walls as he penetrates you, your velvety cunt gripping him tightly.

“Fuck… I’m cumming” You mewl, slowly losing yourself in all the pleasure. Yoongi grins against your skin, biting your collarbone before lapping at the skin. He trails kisses down to the valley of your breasts, pressing a kiss against your sternum before taking a nipple into his mouth, suckling harshly. Suddenly, Yoongi bites your nipple and your back arches in pleasure, your hips and body writhing on his dick with reckless abandon as your nerves prickle with hot waves of euphoria. One of Yoongi’s hands moves to play with your clit, thumb rolling against the hardened bundle of nerves. Your feel your womb tighten as your orgasm nears, the intensity of his ministrations searing along every fibre of your being as you’re set afire with pleasure.

“Fuck, please. Can’t, please” You babble, unable to form coherent thoughts as you’re drowned in the pleasure wrought on your body. You faintly acknowledge Yoongi grinning against your breast, the hand that’s not preoccupied with playing with your clit entwining with yours as you hold hands. You can feel him pour out all his love into each and every action as he drives into you over and over again, impaling you roughly on his cock.

“You’re so beautiful. I love you” Yoongi whispers, but you don’t hear it. You’re too lost in the haze of pleasure, pussy rippling. All of a sudden you cum, the slowly building coil unravelling all at once into fiery white-hot pleasure. Yoongi grunts at the feel of your cunt clamping down tightly; he pushes your hips down into the bed, pounding violently into you, fucking you into the bed. He hammers into your cunt one final time, burrowing as deep into your core as he could get before letting out a piercing groan, his body shaking in overwhelming lust and euphoria as he emptied himself into your pussy, spurt after spurt of his cum pouring into your wet heat as he came.

“Seokjin!” You scream, your pussy gushing against Yoongi’s cock. All of a sudden Yoongi freezes above you. But you don’t care, you’re still riding the aftershocks of your orgasm, too consumed by rapture to notice Yoongi’s sudden stillness. You slowly come down from your high, body shuddering and gasping for air. You slowly come to, registering Yoongi’s frozen form but still hard dick inside you. You whine slightly, bucking as you try to remove him from your sensitised pussy, but Yoongi is unresponsive.

“Yoongi?” You ask, looking at him in perplexity. He’s staring down at you, a mixture of shock, anger but most importantly distress.

“Yoongi, what’s wrong?”You repeat, but suddenly he’s getting off of you, staring at you in both betrayal and repulsion.

“It’s Yoongi” He says, voice quiet.

“I know it’s you, why are you suddenly bringing this up?” You question, but with the way he’s currently standing, completely naked and fists clenched, a small inkling of doubt and worry crawls under your skin. What did you do? Suddenly, Yoongi starts chuckling, shaking his head as he laughs in incredulity.

“You don’t even know. You don’t even realise. You said his name. You screamed Seokjin’s name instead of mine” Yoongi says, face immediately turning stony as he levels his gaze at you. You stare at him, blood running cold. No. There’s no way. You wouldn’t. Because if you had, that would make you the biggest dick on this planet.

“I- I no. No, I didn’t. I couldn’t have” You try stuttering out but Yoongi simply shakes his head, turning away.

“But you did. I heard it. Is this what it’s come to? You’re thinking of him now?” Yoongi suddenly bursts out.

“No! Yoongi, no I wasn’t! I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t hurt you like that” You say desperately, trying to crawl over and reach out to him. Yoongi scoffs and pulls away and your heart breaks just a little more at his obvious rejection.

Yoongi wouldn’t make this up. And there was a very, very small chance that you could have said Seokjin’s name. Especially with how much you’ve been pretending lately. You don’t want to admit that out loud. You can already see how heartbroken and anguished Yoongi is. You’d could never admit that yes, sometimes you wished he was Seokjin. That sometimes you’d pretend it was Seokjin beside you and not him. You couldn’t do that. You couldn’t break Yoongi’s heart like that. Not anymore than you clearly already have.

“But you have. You didn’t want to hurt me and yet you already have. Is this how it’s always going to be? It’s been two and a half years since Seokjin. We met a year after him. Started dating a year and a half after him We’ve been together almost a year. So why are we still on this? Why do we always come back here? Is this how it’s always going to be? Am I always going to be your second choice? Because I can’t do it. I won’t do it,” Yoongi finally says, defeat lacing his voice.

“No! Yoongi I’m sorry! Please I’m sorry” You desperately call out to him but Yoongi simply scoffs.

“That’s all I get! Apologies. You keep saying sorry and things are okay for a little while but then we come back here. To this same place. We always come back here because you just can’t seem to let go of him. I love you but I don’t think I can do this anymore” Yoongi says and suddenly it feels like your entire world is crashing down. He can’t mean he’s breaking up with you? You love Yoongi. You’re in love with Yoongi.

“I- Yoongi no. I-“ You try to express the depths of your feelings for him, but the words just won’t come out. Your mouth is completely dry, as if cotton coats your throat and like you’d swallowed a mouthful of ash. The words are at the tip of your tongue and yet no matter what you do, you just can’t seem to utter them.

“Even now. I see that you’re trying to tell me you love me, but you can’t say the words, can you?” Yoongi asks in complete frustration and your face crumples in despair because he’s right. You both know he is.

“You know you’ve never told me you love me? You just smile, or say same. But you’ve never once said those words to me. Not a single time. And I know. I know it’s because the last person you said it to was him. It’s like you think that saying it to me, will completely remove it from him. That you’ll have nothing of him left. But I can’t do this anymore. I love you and I can’t be him. I’m not him” Yoongi exclaims and his words only causes guilt to wash over you. He doesn’t know you’ve been pretending he was Seokjin and yet it’s like he knows.

You’d once thought that you’d wish Yoongi would take out his frustration. Wish he’d yelled at you instead of being sympathetic. Wished that the two of you would somehow manage to talk it now. But now that it’s happening you hate it. You’d rather he be more understanding. Because he’s right. And his words hurt like a dull knife digging directly into your heart. Yoongi isn’t Seokjin. He could never be Seokjin. They were both night and day and yet in some aspects, just like dawn and dusk, they blend. Seokjin was playful and bright like the summer whereas Yoongi was calm and contemplative, like the winter. Your comparison of them wasn’t fair to either man. They were different human beings, different stories, different personalities. You used to love Seokjin. You would for the rest of your life. But it’s Yoongi that you’re in love with now and you want, want so desperately to express the notion to him. But you can’t.

“You know why I can’t say it. I do. I feel everything I felt for him and so much more towards you. But I can’t… I can’t say the words and you know why. So please, just for now, let it be enough. Can’t it be enough?” You ask, but it’s a futile effort and completely in vain. You can see the exhaustion in Yoongi’s figure. You can see that he’s at breaking point. And yet, you want to try and salvage this relationship. You want to hold on to Yoongi.

“I’m trying to be understanding _____. I really am. But after today… I need some time” Yoongi finally utters as he begins getting dressed. You can’t bring yourself to do anything but watch him. There are so many things you want to say but all you have are actions. And despite the notion that actions speak a thousand words, sometimes actions just aren’t enough. Sometimes you need words. Sometimes you need words of ‘I love you’ and words of affirmation. Because just actions aren’t enough.

They’re not. Not anymore at least. You know that. Yoongi knows that. And he wants to walk away but he sees you, sees the love you have for him in your eyes, in your actions. The way you kiss him and hold him at night. He sees it all. But after tonight, he’s left wondering whether you see him or if you see him. Wonders whether it’s all been a lie. Deep down, he knows. He knows you see him and not anyone else. And you may not be able to say the words but you feel it. But after tonight, feelings just aren’t enough and he needs the words. He needs you to tell him it’s him that you love, and it’s him that you want to be with. But with each passing minute, he knows you aren’t going to say it. No matter how much he hopes.

Time runs out when he’s finally dressed. He lets out a shaky sigh and runs a finger through his hair, pushing the locks out of his eyes. He closes his eyes and draws in every bit of strength and courage he can before turning back to look at you. There’s desperation in your eyes. You want him to stay, but he needs time. Yoongi slowly approaches you, and you perk up, a small inkling of hope in your eyes that maybe it’s okay. That maybe the two of you will somehow get through it.

“I love you. I’m sorry” Yoongi mutters, pressing a soft kiss against your temple. And then he walks away. And every bit of hope you have is gone. And then you’re left completely alone. In the dark of your room.

It’s been two weeks since Yoongi walked out of your apartment. Two whole weeks since you’ve seen your boyfriend. You’ve tried calling and texting him, but he’s ignoring you. Hell, you even tried turning up to his studio, but each time, he wasn’t in. You have no idea where you stand with Yoongi. Whether the two of you have broken up, whether the two of you are still together. You’re completely in the dark. A small part of you wonders if it’s for the best. That’s the same part that still misses and yearns for Seokjin. But the bigger part of you, the one that wants to move on. The one that is in love with Yoongi, wants to make up with him. Wants to kiss him and hold him and be with him forever.

You’ve had two whole weeks to contemplate your feelings. Two whole weeks to sort out exactly what you feel for both Seokjin and Yoongi. Granted, you spent the first few days crying in bed. But the more days that passed, the more you realised, you weren’t crying because of Seokjin. You were crying because you had lost Yoongi. Yoongi with his pretty features, odd sarcastic sense of humour and sleepy tendencies. The same Yoongi who appeared gruff and cold at first, but the more you got to know, the more turned out to be a soft and caring person. And for the first time in years, you’ve come up with a decision. You’ve decided to move on. Seokjin may have been your past, but Yoongi was your future and you’re so in love with him that you can’t imagine your life without him.

You know you have to make it up to him somehow. You need to prove that you love him and most importantly you need to say the words. You have no idea how to go about it however, especially with how much he’s avoiding you. You know Yoongi. He wants his space, but he also wants you to prove he means something to you. You lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling as you contemplate exactly how you’re going to make it up to him. Suddenly, an idea pops into you head. Yours and Yoongi’s first anniversary is coming up in less than a week. And you have just the idea of how to apologise and win him back.

You scramble out of bed, almost falling when your legs entangle with the covers. You reach over to your phone, messaging the two people you know will be able to help you sort out your predicament, help you plan your apology and make sure that Yoongi actually turns up rather than just avoiding you.

A couple days later, you find yourself in the lamb skewer shop in which you had first met Min Yoongi an entire year and a half ago. Luckily, the restaurant owner had a sweet spot for you from back when you worked here during university and had allowed you to rent out the entire place in order to apologise to Yoongi. You quickly ran around the shop, ensuring everything was perfectly in place and ready to welcome Yoongi. The old man who cooked at the restaurant had left the lamb skewers, rice and a couple other side dishes on the table, ready for the two of you to dine. Checking the time, you began smoothing out your dress and hair; nervously twiddling as you awaited Namjoon and Hoseok’s arrival with Yoongi.

You didn’t have to wait long. A couple moments later, the restaurant door opened and in walked Namjoon and Hoseok, followed by Yoongi. You quickly stood up straight, biting your lip nervously as you set eyes on Yoongi for the first time in almost three weeks. His hair has changed, you notice. Previously dark and natural, it’s now the lightest shade of bleached platinum blonde, falling freely into his eyes. It suits him. He looks radiant. He’s dressed in his usual black skinny jeans and black hoodie but and even though he’s dressed casually and you’ve dolled yourself up, he still somehow manages to look better than you do.

“Wha-What is going on?” Yoongi asks as he spots you. His eyes rove over your figure, the empty restaurant with only one table set up before landing on your face. You smile nervously at him, sending him a hopeful glance.

“We’re gonna go, leave you two to talk this out. Enjoy” Namjoon says with a reassuring smile before grabbing Hoseok and leaving the two of you alone.

“____ what’s going on?” Yoongi asks, still stood in the doorway. He looks around unassured and you feel your heart drop at his uncertainty of being with you. However, you steel yourself and smile at him, trying to suppress your nerves.

“Happy first anniversary!” You say nervously, your feet shifting every now and then.

“Do you think this makes up for everything?” Yoongi asks, his eyes narrowing. You shake your head quickly, gulping hesitantly.

“No. Of course not. I just… give me five minutes to explain?” You plead. Yoongi hesitates before nodding; he walks up to the table you’ve had set up before taking a seat. You quickly take the seat opposite him before you began serving him. Yoongi stares at the plate before turning to you, looking at you expectantly. You sigh, knowing he’s not going to start eating until you say your peace. You bite your lip nervously and take a deep breath before looking directly into his eyes.

“I’m sorry” You begin and Yoongi scoffs, opening his mouth to respond but you shake your head, “no please. Just let me speak?” You quickly cut him off. Yoongi huffs but nods, gesturing for you to continue.

“I’m sorry. I know those words basically mean nothing to you anymore but I need you to know that I am sorry. For everything I’ve put you through this past year. I have no excuses for what I did to you, for what I put you through but I am sorry. I know, I know it’s been two and a half years since him, but you have to understand that I was with him for six years. From high school all the way to the end of university. He’s not a simple part of my past that I can just erase and forget. I loved him and for the longest time, he was my entire world. I was sure we’d grow old and get married together. I’m not going to lie. There were times when I wished he was here, when I’d contemplate the what ifs. What if he was still here. What if he was in your place. What if… he was you. And that wasn’t fair to you. You’re not Seokjin. You’re your own person and I shouldn’t have compared the two of you. You’re right. It has been two and a half years… and he’s not coming back. No matter how much time passes. And it’s not fair to keep living in the past” You begin. Yoongi watches you, his expression stoic, eyes shielded from you, giving nothing away of his feelings.

“I’m sorry for the way I made you feel, that you were second best or that you had to compete with him. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I shouldn’t have made you feel like that. And you’re not. You’re not my second choice. You changed my entire world Yoongi. When we met, in this restaurant, a year and a half ago. I was a complete mess. I was still heartbroken and lost and drowning in my own memories. But you pulled me out. You made everything so much better. I didn’t think I could ever feel the way I felt for him again. But I did. I fell for you harder than I thought was possible. I had no idea that meeting you would change my life but it did” You continue, your voice cracking and eyes welling up with tears.

“Losing you for two weeks showed me that I can’t keep living in the past. I can’t… I can’t keep thinking about the what ifs or wondering about what my life would be like with Seokjin. Not when it means losing you. I can’t keep comparing you to him and I definitely can’t be imagining you as him. You were right. I felt guilty. I felt guilty about moving on and that was why I couldn’t say the words. I did feel like, if I said it, I would lose the very last piece of him that I had left and I wasn’t ready. But I’m ready now. I’m ready to move on, with you. I want to be with you Yoongi. Only you. For the rest of my life, if you’ll have me?” You finally finish, hope in your voice. Yoongi lets out a little sigh. He rubs the back of his neck nervously before looking at you hesitantly.

“I love you ____. But, I don’t know if I can do this. I need to know that you want to be with me. How do I know this isn’t the same as before? That you apologise now and everything is fine for a few weeks before you’re thinking about him again? I can’t keep fighting you for someone who isn’t here. I feel like I’ve had every piece of you, the good, the bad. But I don’t feel like I’ve had the best, because it feels like those pieces are reserved for him. It feels like there are times when you see me but then other times I’m sharing you with his memory. When you wake up in the middle of the night crying out for him and I have to hold you and piece you back together. I can’t keep doing that because it hurts. It hurts knowing you’re not fully mine. That you’re not fully committed to me I want to believe you. I love you and I want to be with you… but I’m not sure anymore” Yoongi finally responds and you shake your head. The tears threaten to seep from your eyes and you reach out for his hand, gripping it tightly within your own.

“It’s different this time. It’s different because I’m letting him go. I love you. I am so irrevocably and uncontrollably in love with you, Min Yoongi. I know I’ve never said it before but I am now. Because I do. I love you. I love you so much. Please. I love you so much” You cry, the tears now falling freely as you sob the words out over and over again. You feel Yoongi remove his hand from yours and you lose the last bit of hope you had, wondering if perhaps it was too late. If the damage was too deep and scarring to recover from.

But then, he places his hand on your cheek and you release another sob. You melt into his hand, nuzzling into the palm before opening your eyes. Yoongi’s own eyes are slightly watery, but you know him well enough to know that he won’t let them fall. You let out a shaky breath before smiling at him, his eyes soft and filled with love, just like you remember them. Yoongi stands up, pulling you to your feet before leaning across the table and kissing you. His soft lips press into yours, moulding against your own lips. The two of you kiss for what feels like forever, your heart soaring as the both of you pour out all the love you have for each other.

Eventually, the two of you break apart. You let out a hiccupping laugh, foreheads pressed against each other’s. Yoongi’s thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away the tears before placing another delicate kiss against your lips. You grin at him, the two of you taking a seat at the table again. The food has long since gone cold, but you don’t care. You feel giddy, staring at Yoongi with a semi-wobbly smile.

“That’s the first time you told me you love me” Yoongi says, failing to suppress a smile and your heart pounds at his trademark gummy smile.

“I love you. I’ll say it as much as you want me to. I love you. I love you. I love you” You repeat over and over, loving the way pink dusts Yoongi’s cheeks as he blushes. He lets out a little laugh, unable to control himself and you giggle at the childlike exuberance he displays.

“I love you too. I love you so much” Yoongi utters, bringing your hand between his and entwining your fingers together before pulling them up to his lips, pressing soft kisses into the pads of your fingertips.

The two of you begin tucking into the lamb skewers, Yoongi groaning at the taste before praising them for being the best thing he’s ever tasted. You shake your head, laughing at him as you pile some more onto his plate. Somehow you both fall into an easy conversation, Yoongi talking about his latest project. You simply watch and listen as he goes on and on, loving the slight sparkle in his eye. You love when he gets like this, love how passionate he is about music. He’s currently talking about Hoseok’s soon to come out album and the different tracks he’s helped produce on it. You sit back and take him in, feeling yourself fall in love with him all over again.

“Happy first anniversary” You suddenly say, breaking his train of thought. Yoongi stills for a minute, perplexity written all over him before his face softens. He smiles widely at you, bright pink gums on display.

“Happy first-anniversary, ____” Yoongi replies. And it does. Feel like a happy anniversary. Because for the first time in years, Seokjin is nowhere in your mind. You’re completely focused on the man in front of you, the love of your life.

“Hi. It’s been a while. Three years on this day to be exact. I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know how to face you, or have enough courage to come here. I miss you. I still miss you. Every day. More and more each day. I think I’ll miss you forever. I’m not going to lie. The day you left… the day you disappeared. I felt like a piece of me died. I loved you. For six years, I loved you. You said forever and I believed you. You promised you’d be here always. You were my everything. There are days when I smell someone wearing that stupid cologne you used to wear that I hated, or when your favourite cooking channel comes on and I miss you even more. I sometimes walk passed your gym and find myself just staring in, wondering if I’ll by chance see you working out there. Silly I know. You’d probably laugh at me if you could” You chuckle, taking in a deep breath as you think about what you want to say next.

“I’ll love you forever. I know I will but I think I have to let you go now. I think that’s what you’d want me to do. If you were still here and saw me the past few years, you’d probably yell at me in the way you used to and be like ‘yah! Life is for the living’ or something stupid like that and then you’d crack a stupid dad joke. I miss those stupid jokes. But yeah, I think you’d want me to move on. And I have. I’ve found someone else. His name is Min Yoongi, he’s a rapper and producer. I have a feeling that the two of you would have loved each other and would have gotten along really well. He’s a few months younger than you but I swear he’s grumpy old man. He loves fishing, just like you did. He actually took me to your favourite fishing spot one day. I missed you a lot that day. I swore I saw you then, but it’s probably my mind playing trick on me. I think if you were still around and you met Yoongi, he’d try to teach you the piano and you’d try to teach him the guitar. He doesn’t like working out though, but he does love basketball. You weren’t very good at basketball, even though you were so tall. Your shoulders and limbs were too long, you had no idea what to do with them. I’m just rambling now, sorry” You continue, tears rolling down your cheeks, a wistful smile on your face as you mindlessly play with the bouquet of blue flowers in your hand.

“I brought you your favourite flowers. The smeraldo ones you loved so much. Usually, people give white lilies but I looked up the meaning for these. ‘The sincerity that could not be delivered’, I think that’s very apt, don’t you? I’m sorry it’s taken so long for me to come here, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t come here knowing I still wasn’t over you because I know that’s the last thing you’d have wanted. But I’m happy now. And in love with Min Yoongi. So desperately in love with him. Which is why I’m letting you go. It’s not fair that Yoongi has to compete with your ghost. I’ll never forget you. You were my first love. I love you. I always will. But I’m no longer in love with you” You sob out, furiously wiping the tears at your eyes.

You kneel over, crying softly as you place the bouquet of flowers down by Seokjin’s grave. You let out a little sob, reaching a hand out and brushing it against his name carved into the marble headstone before tracing the letters that spell out ‘beloved fiancé’. You pull your hand away, clenching it into a fist before covering your face with your hands, sobbing your entire heart out. You sit there for another five minutes; crying out every one of your feelings as you mourn the loss of you past lover. A few more moments pass and your sobs settle down into little sniffles. You wipe your face furiously before picking yourself up and off the ground. Taking in a few calming breaths, you steel yourself before looking down at his grave again.

“Until we meet again. Goodbye Seokjin” You finally utter, saying your final farewell. Then you turn around and walk away. You slowly stroll to the entrance of the cemetery, Yoongi standing by the gates, waiting for you. Yoongi smiles at you sadly but you shake your head. You hurriedly walk over to him, taking his hand into yours before smiling brightly at him.

“I love you” You smile, leaning on your tip toes before pressing a kiss on Yoongi’s cheek. Yoongi’s grip on your hand tightens, squeezing as he offers you comfort.

“I love you too,” Yoongi says, smiling back at you. Your eyes are lighter now, brighter. There’re no dark shadows hiding in them, or that small inkling of melancholy that used to be hidden deep within them. Yoongi squeezes your hand again. Finally, it feels like he has you all to himself.

Because for one, you’re looking at him and only him. And there are no ghosts of your ex-boyfriend haunting you.

a/n: not going to lie, i sobbed like a little bitch writing the final scene

Mixtape Series | Masterlist

[mrs-hollandstan]

Vampire!Mob!Tom saving reader from a enemy of his who was attacking her and feeding from her? Tommy snaps the man's neck but when he goes to her, she's leaning on a wall but fall before he could reach her, totally out of strenght because the man drained almost all of her blood and her pulse is extremely weak. I'm a fucking whore for your angsts

Look.... I'm the worst person to ask for angst because I always change it to something good cause I can't.

[[MORE]]

You could barely make out Tom bursting through the door and the minor scuffle breaking out between your mobster and his rival. You fight to stand, walking on wobbly legs to get out into the hall Tom came from and you were drug down. All your bites seep blood, most of yours gone now that Jones has had his way with you. But Tom is still stronger, having fought off the bloodlust for lengthy periods of time. So in a matter of seconds, your captor's neck provides a chilling, yet satisfying snap that renders him dead and Tom is rushing to your side.

He catches you just before you collapse to the floor, lowering you down with him,

"Baby... what did he do to you?" You cling to him, pained moans leaving your lips as you near fainting, your body ready to give into relief. He holds you, hearing your heartbeat slow,

"Don't darling... don't close your eyes." He commands, giving your face a few gentle, shocking slaps to keep you awake. You groan, letting him lift you,

"Tom-"

"Yeah, I've got you babes, just hold on." He reassures. Your arms drape around his neck, your body unable to keep hold of him. You reach up shakily after a moment, setting your hand on his shoulder. He stops in the hallway, pulling your body back in his arms to look at you, your lashes fluttering as you blink lethargicly,

"Hold on love, lemme get you help."

"No!" You croak out. He stops once more, drawing back,

"I won't let you die Y/N." He says sternly, eyebrows furrowing. You shake your head, reaching up to stroke his cheek,

"Tom..." you try again, his eyes sparkling in fear and you know it's because he's scared of losing you, "change me." You almost whine. He stares down at you, eyes flickering between your own before he shakes his head. He opens his mouth but you start again,

"Please... I'm scared Tom. I know I'm gonna die, you won't even make it out of the building... please just change me so I can stay with you." You gasp out, tears forming in your eyes. Tom's face holds sadness and anguish and he hates bringing you into this life, but he can't take it back now. After another moment, he nods, sitting you against the wall before crouching before you. He takes hold of your hand, watching you sleepily nod before he leans in, fangs sinking into the skin of your wrist.

There's a surge of energy that pulses through you with the action, your body igniting into the worst burning ever, flooded with Tom's venom. When you can gain the strength to do so, your back arches from the wall behind you, a scream coming from your lips at the agonizing burn. Tom draws back, having drained the rest of your blood and exchanging it for rapidly colonizing venom. He stands, hurrying into the room you'd been drained in and returning with a mason jar of your blood,

"Wow, what a way to come full circle." He mutters, unscrewing the lid and holding it out,

"Sip, don't gulp." He commands, watching you drink your own blood for a moment before you lean back, licking across your lips and new fangs, your eyes twinkling from their normal color to a dark crimson as your body converts itself. He sighs, cocking his head as you look up at him before you dive in, lips pressed against his as you both tumble into the wall behind him. He gives a tug of your hair like he would if you were human, a little more harsh this time though, letting you whimper,

"You're much stronger now. You have to be careful now." He warns, watching you nod before he releases you, licking his lips of the remnants of blood from yours. He reaches up to stroke your cheek,

"At least now you'll shut up about me changing you." You smile, turning into his palm,

"That's alright, I'll find something else to bug you about." You reassure. He rolls his eyes,

"For the next thousand years. But... I wouldn't do it with anyone else." He purrs, watching your lashes flutter,

"I could never get over that beautiful face baby." He tells you. Gently now, you lean in, kissing him,

"I love you." You tell him. He smiles,

"I love you too. Always." He replies, letting you snuggle into him for a moment before he enforces you to get up and gather your blood to get the hell out of the building you were held in.

[foulsouls]

18+ Spring time heat: Pesci

Hearing the thunderous footsteps currently coming your way would've been terrifying if you hadn't already known the monstrous men barreling towards you were hungry for sex rather than blood.

You were left a mess on the hastily built nest by Risotto and Formaggio, the warm gooey cum seeping from your core a reminder of the absolute debauchery that had befallen you mere minutes beforehand. You propped yourself up on your elbows in time to see a nervous and downright feral Pesci burst through the door and hastily scan the room before his eyes fall on your disheveled form. He hesitates for a second before he surges forward and scoops you up into his big strong arms and whisks you out the same door he entered, rapidly running in the other direction of your teammates.

You barely have time squeak out his name before you're flying through the compound, a blur of half rotten walls and musty cloth nests pass you by and you hold onto Pesci for dear life. Not that Pesci would ever drop you considering the near vice-like grip he has on you, you're pressed firmly against his bare chest which you've only just realized but Pesci is nearly completely naked. He's frantically searching for a safe spot to deposit you and when he feels far enough from the anguished howls of his teammates you feel the muscles in the arms that encircle you gradually relax. His heart is thundering in his chest and for the first time you realize you've been holding your breath.

When you finally allow some fresh air into your lungs you find that your own heart has been trying to beat out of your chest as well. Pesci barely broke a sweat as he raced through your hideout but now that he's relaxed and realized he's holding your naked body against him his sweet, nervous nature crawls back to the surface. He apologizes profusely as he gently but awkwardly places you dead center of what you assume to be his little nest. Once placed down you look around a little doe eyed, you've never been in the personal quarters of your werewolf squad so you can't help but be a little curious. You've always been kept in the nicest part of the hideout, the part that only kinda stinks like mildew and sawdust. You were the only female in la squadra so you always bore the brunt of the groups spring time needs, however, since this year had been so unusually busy for you all there was no time to set up proper breeding schedules. Everyone is supposed to take turns but since your capo had left these things to the wayside you've found yourself in a bit of a clusterfuck. There's just no way you could all do it at the same time, they would murder each other before they could even get their clothes off.

You glance around at the moldy walls and sigh a little, it really is a bit of a dump. You're brought back to the present by a needy whine, Pesci has dropped to his knees only a few inches away and his eyes are absolutely glued to your lower half. You realize you've been sitting with your legs wide open, unintentionally teasing the poor man in front of you and you shift to close your legs a little. Pesci is sniffing the air hungrily, whining and shifting his weight nervously, you know he wants to jump on you and bury himself inside your delicious wet heat but he's always been shy about it. You hold out your hand like you would to an unfamiliar dog, letting him sniff it gingerly before pushing it forward to press against his cheek. He sighs and leans into your touch, his tail wagging cautiously behind him. He eyes you with concern when you pull your hand back, his whine is so cute as he inches forward trying to chase your touch.

"Pesci" you coo to him, his ears prick up instantly and he meets your gaze unwavering, his attention trained on you like a spotlight. You open your legs again but this time more slowly, deliberately trying to draw his attention to your sex. His eyes glaze over with lust and a low groan leaves his mouth as he eyes your pussy like its the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. You trail a finger down your wet folds and blush a little at the slick noise that comes from your own body. You squirm at the way Pesci licks his lips, imagining what that hot wet muscle would feel like against your clit. You bite your lip and almost keen at the thought, you'd never dream of bossing the other men in your squad around but you feel a little emboldened by the whiny green haired man whose currently having a staring contest with your cunt.

You lift your hand from your slickness and gesture for Pesci to come closer. He inches forward and you place a hand on his shoulder to stop him right as you feel his hot breath above your sopping center. His tail wagging wildly and his eyes unfocused, like he's in a trance, you could say just about anything to him at the moment but the words that leave your lips are a simple command, "Use your mouth first".

Pesci doesn't even need any more incentive, he latches onto your clit like a starved animal and begins sucking in earnest. Your body is wracked with waves of pleasure as he runs his lovely warm tongue up and down your wet folds, taking time to alternate between sucking your clit and licking up all the slick that drips from your pussy. He moans and rolls his eyes like you're the first meal he's had in weeks and you can't help the needy mewls that leave your mouth.

Watching him suckle on your sex so hungrily and rut into the nest below you has you feeling the telltale warmth in your lower half, signaling your oncoming orgasm building to a fever pitch. Tugging at his tuft of leafy green hair you try to pry him off your clit before you tip over the edge.

His mouth leaves you with a wet pop and he's already starting to whimper before you press a finger gently against his wet lips to shush him. He looks at you for some explanation as to why you just interrupted his meal when he notices the way you're trying to catch your breath. Understanding crosses his face and he quickly drops his face to nuzzle into your soft belly.

"Aa-h sorry y/n, you just tasted so good I couldn't stop myself...u-uhm are you ok?" He stutters to your belly button, it's cute, just a minute ago he was eating you out like a champ and now he's all shy and flustered? You huff a little laugh and ruffle his locks before lifting his chin so you're looking into his eyes.

"Don't you want to breed me? I can't cum until you're inside me yanno?" You purr and you see his eyes light up.

"O-oh!" he stutters, lifting his head from your stomach to look at you properly.

You gently guide him up until he's on top of you, looking down at your form so easily engulfed by his own. You stare up into his eyes and give him a lustful smile as your hand reaches for his member. His hips jerk wildly as you wrap your hand around him and you feel his cock pulse, hot and thick in your small hand. He moans lowly and you feel the hot coil of arousal settle in your belly again before giving him a few quick pumps to elicit more enticing noises from him.

You realize you're teasing him a little too much when you feel a flood of precum spill onto your navel and you blush a little at your boldness. You can get away with alot when it came to Pesci you muse to yourself, he's the only one who would let you take the lead like this.

You smile to yourself as you guide the leaky tip of his cock to your aching sex, slowly rubbing the head up and down your slick folds, mewling at the obscene wet noises your pussy makes. Pesci is all tensed up, trying his best not to ram his member into you like the good boy he is. The others would have barely spared you a thought before pummeling you with their cock.

You coo at him, telling him how much you want him inside you and how much you want his cum. He keens at your words and his cock twitches with anticipation, you coo at him some more, wanting more sweet noises to fall from his adorable mouth.

"Oh Pesci, go slowly ok? I want to feel ever- AAahhn!!" You're cut off as he sinks in halfway, His cock is thick and the stretch stings a little but soon the sting ebbs away and pleasure replaces it. You feel his member slowly bury itself deeper and deeper inside you and you can't help the long breathless moan that leaves your lips. Pesci goes slowly like you asked and you can tell its killing him, once buried to the hilt you feel some of the tension leave his body but he's still rigid. His eyes are screwed shut and his brow is sweaty as he desperately tries to hold his hips in place, it’s so adorable, he’s just like an obedient little puppy the way he follows your instructions without even arguing. 

You roll your hips and relish in the deliciously animalistic noises Pesci makes, his own hips stutter violently as you tease him by wrapping your legs around him. He opens one eye to peer at you and nearly yelps at the devilish grin on your face, a smile like the one you’re wearing can only mean the poor man is in for one hell of a teasing session but you're in a more submissive mood than your expression lets on. 

You give him a chaste kiss and nod to him, signaling the all clear to start fucking you but before you even have time to blink Pesci yanks your legs off his hips and presses them to your shoulders, lightning fast as all your teammates usually are at this time of the year. You barely have time to adjust to this new position before Pesci’s hips begin violently slamming into your own, your head swims with the newfound sensations this position brings you.

You claw at his back as Pesci drives himself as deeply into your core as he can, you feel his growl rumble through his chest as he loses himself to the heat of your slick centre engulfing him. The ground practically shakes from the force of Pesci's thrusts and you're left wondering if you'll even be able to walk after this, you don't get to dwell on that thought though as you feel the knot of his cock begin to catch on your inner walls.

Somehow Pesci rams his cock into you with even more force as his orgasm approaches and you find your ability to speak coherently is lost as jumbled words and moans fall from your lips. You're desperately trying to hold on to your lucidity as you feel powerful waves of pleasure slam into your body, your sex practically a vice on the now mostly swollen knot inside you.

Pesci buries his face into your neck and latches onto your shoulder with his sharp canines as the euphoria of his own orgasm crashes over him, painting your insides white with his cum.

You both lay there trying to catch your breath, Pesci still has yet to release his jaws from your shoulder. When you start to wriggle underneath him he finally realizes that he's basically crushing you into the floor amd moves to release you from his grip.

Your legs flop down unceremoniously and you pant like you've just run a marathon, eyes still hazy and unfocused from your incredible climax. Pesci stares down at you like you're a goddess, a very sweaty and cum filled goddess. When the reality of what he'd just done finally dawns on him you swear you can see the steam radiating off his beet red face.

You giggle and and reach your arms up to him, mewling and shifting a little as his knot rubs your overly sensitive insides. Pesci gently lowers himself back down, careful not to disturb your still connected lower halves too much as he wraps you in a sweaty hug.

You sigh into his neck as you nuzzle back into his embrace, yawning a little and closing your eyes, basking in the post-coital bliss.

Of course you know this won't last, as soon as his swelling goes down and you are released from his knot you're going to be scooped up and whisked off for some more feral fucking from yet another one of your teammates. But you don't pay that much mind right now, at the moment you're content to just cuddle your adorable Pesci as his tail gently thumps the ground behind him.

[littledemondani]

everything changes | duncan shepherd x fem!reader | part two

warnings: College Fuckboy!Duncan, semi-public smut, drinking, clubbing, reader being an all-around savage bitch, unprotected sex, unhealthy coping mechanisms. 

words: 2.2K

summary: You and your friends go clubbing to celebrate the start of the new semester, but what happens when Duncan ends up going to the same club as you?

a/n: Hey babes! This is the second part of my College Fuckboy!Duncan headcanons. This is also my first time writing smut. Also, big thank you to @wroteclassicaly for helping me with ideas for this. :D I really hope you all enjoy this, and I love y’all <3

part one

Thank you @ms-mead for this lovely moodboard <3 ily!

“Uhh, my name is Y/N actually.” You chuckled, trying desperately to keep your rage anxiety at bay. A million thoughts raced through your head at once that you didn’t even hear a thing Annette was saying to you. She excused herself and left to go do god knows what (you didn’t care, you just wanted to get the fuck out of there).

You got your phone from your clutch and send for an Uber. The last thing you want is to be stuck with Duncan for longer than you need to be. He hasn’t said a word to you. Nor has he so much as looked at you. Adding more fuel to the pent up rage you’re feeling. You decided to go outside and wait, knowing if you stay inside with him that you’re just going to lose your shit in front of everyone.

Once you reach the doorway you look behind you at Duncan one last time. He didn’t follow you, his utter shock keeping him from moving. His heart was thumping wildly in his chest as if at any moment it would burst out of him. He knew he had fucked up, severely fucked up. Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to follow you out and explain everything. 

He lifted his gaze from the floor to the doorway, locking in on your eyes. The look of betrayal and anguish on your face shattered him more than he’d like to admit. But as quickly as your eyes met, he turned away and walked off to go greet some acquaintances of his mother.

You felt your heart sink but knew what had to be done. This was it for you. No more putting up with Duncan and his bullshit. You opened the door and walked out of Duncan’s life, for good.

-

Summer vacation has come and gone - the beginning was spent crying over Duncan. For two weeks you waited for a call or text from him, heart jumping each time your phone rang. But nothing ever came. 

You can’t say you were surprised, especially not after the way he acted at the party. “Duncan Shepherd doesn’t chase after girls” had been a rumor you heard one day while waiting for class to start. It was true though: he didn’t chase after girls - they chased after him.

‘Not me,’ you thought to yourself. You were done with trying to figure Duncan out, done with crying yourself to sleep, done with wondering what the fuck you did wrong (which was nothing, of course). So you sought out to rid Duncan of your mind, and it worked.

The late summer nights were filled with drinking until you couldn’t feel anymore, getting lost in the embrace of another person, and waking up with a pounding headache that lasted all day. 

Maybe it wasn’t the healthiest way - but it got the job done. You soon forgot all about Duncan Shepherd and his fuckboy ways. Until it was time to head back to D.C. for a new semester. Then the memory of that handsome face asshole hit you like a ton of bricks.

Now here you are, back in D.C., and getting ready to go out to a club with your roommates to celebrate the end of your first week back. Anxiety flooded your veins at the thought of Duncan possibly being there with his frat brothers. But with the help of your roomies, and about 5 shots of tequila, that fear dissipated.

You were wearing a short form-fitting black dress, black Louboutin heels (yes..the ones Duncan got you), and a dainty necklace. After straightening your hair you put on your makeup. You looked over yourself one last time in the mirror, making sure every hair was in place and your makeup was perfect.

-

The club was filled with a bunch of sweaty college students, some drunk, some high, some both. You were on your 4th vodka cranberry, the drink making you feel fuzzy and carefree.

Your roommate invited her boyfriend and his friends, one of them being a guy you had taken some interest in as the night progressed. He was tall, but not too tall, with short brown hair, lean muscle, and pretty green eyes. 

Maybe it was your carefree attitude since leaving Duncan or your inebriated state of mind (let’s go with that one) that had you pulling whatshisname to some semi-secluded area near the restrooms. He was just looking too good and had been whispering dirty things in your ear as you danced with him, causing arousal to pool in your panties.

You pulled him in for a kiss, full of need with your tongues fighting for dominance. He walked you until your back hit the wall, running his hands down over your ass - squeezing - then stopping at the back of your thighs. Your hand snaking down to palm at his semi-hard cock, eliciting a small groan from him. 

“Jump,” he orders, lifting you with ease. You wrap your legs around his waist, bringing him in for another kiss.

“You’re not afraid of someone seeing us?” he asks while unzipping his pants and pulling out his cock.

“Just shut up and fuck me already.” 

Without hesitation, he pulls your lacy thong to the side and slowly eases himself into your tight, wet cunt. You let out a breathy moan, his girth stretching you deliciously. 

He rocked into you until he bottomed out completely, allowing you a moment to adjust to him. You grabbed the nape of his hair and tugged harshly, “I said, fuck me already.” a hint of venom laced in your voice.

You didn’t want him to be nice to you, you wanted him to use you. To fuck you like you meant nothing to him because he meant nothing to you. He was just a distraction, another person in your fucked up way of coping with the loss of Duncan.

He chuckled, “If that’s what you want-” he snapped his hips into you with brutal force, “then that’s what you’ll get.”

The pace he set was harsh and unrelenting. You loved every second of it, the way the head of his cock hit your most sensitive spot, the way your back was being pushed into the hard tile wall, the way your legs burned from clinging to him like your life depended on it, his bruising grip on your ass.

Your head was thrown back against the wall, hips snapping to meet his harsh thrusts, eyes closed in total bliss. You could feel the pressure building in the pit of your stomach, that familiar warmth spreading throughout your body.

You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around his neck, finally opening your eyes - when you saw him. Standing by the doorway of the men’s room, and watching you like a hawk, was Duncan Shepherd. You let out a loud, broken whine that came out more like a moan. 

“What the fuck?!” your train of thought actually leaving your mouth. This can’t be happening. You closed your eyes, thinking if you open them he’ll be gone, he’s just a figment of your drunk imagination. 

You open your eyes again, but no, he’s still standing there. Looking every bit the same as the last time you saw him. His hair perfectly styled, wearing his signature black leather jacket, dark jeans, and a black shirt. You let out another broken moan, pussy involuntarily clenching at the sight of him.

“Mmm, you gonna cum for me, doll? Cum all over my cock?” you ignored whatshisname, the only thing mattering to you at this moment was Duncan standing not very far from you, still watching you.

If he’s just going to stand there and watch, then you were definitely going to give him a show. You finally lock eyes with him, seeing the look of hurt (?) deep in his eyes...even better. 

You grab onto the back of whatshisname's hair, using it as leverage to help you bounce harder on his length. You moaned extra loud, wanting Duncan to hear you rather than just see you.

Each buck of your hips, every moan leaving your pretty mouth, was a knife twist in Duncan’s stomach. He couldn’t believe what the fuck was happening. How had he not noticed you before he went into the restroom? And are those the heels he bought you? 

It takes everything inside of him not to walk over to you and punch that guy in the face. But what would that do? Make you hate him even more than you already do? He knew there was nothing he could say or do at this moment, and it fucking killed him. 

It killed him to see you with another guy, much less fucking another guy - having someone else draw out those sexy moans and whimpers he loved hearing. Having another guy feel the way your cunt clenches and flutters when you're about to cum, it was all too much for him. 

Yet he couldn’t look away.

The way Duncan’s eyes bore into yours, like daggers, sent a fresh wave of arousal through you. This entire ordeal was something you found to be... exhilarating. You weren’t one to actively seek revenge - but this sure did feel fucking good, and you were getting off on it.

You weren’t going to last long, your orgasm fastly approaching. You turned your head slightly so your lips were near whatshisname’s ear, eyes never leaving Duncan’s, and whispering, “I’m g-gonna cum. I want you to cum inside me.” It was like your words flipped a switch in him, sending him into a frenzy.

His already bruising grip on your ass became even harder, thrusting up into you with such force you knew you wouldn’t be able to sit, much less walk after. Your moans turned into screams and legs shaking around him as your violent orgasm ripped through you.

A few more thrusts and his cum painted your walls. You stayed connected to each other for a bit, both trying to regulate your breathing. He moved to set you down, making sure you were okay to stand. You adjusted your thong and dress - looking up to find that Duncan had left from where he had been standing.

A tiny pang of disappointment (?) hit you. You had hoped that maybe Duncan would still be there, that you’d be able to rub it in his face even more that you were doing fine without him. Your thoughts were interrupted by whatshisname taking your hand in his and pulling you back towards your friends.

-

Several drinks later you found yourself back on the dancefloor with whatshisname. Your hips swaying to the beat of the song and his hands roaming all over your body. You turned around to have your back against his chest, your ass rolling against him.

And - for the second time that night, you caught sight of Duncan Shepherd. He was sitting in the VIP section of the club (of course) laughing with his frat brothers and some girls. One of them practically sitting in his lap.

Bitch.

Duncan was trying to have a good time. Trying to force the image of you fucking another guy to the back of his mind. Tried to let the girl practically throwing herself at him distract him from the clusterfuck of emotions running through him. Tried to drown his thoughts in alcohol in hopes that they would stop screaming at him. 

“Hey Dunc, isn’t that Y/N?” one of his frat brothers called out, pointing you out on the dancefloor. He turned his gaze to where his friend was looking, seeing you dancing seductively with your date. Without thinking he stood up and marched his way over to you. Ignoring the others telling him to stop and it was a bad idea. 

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do once he got to you. Wasn’t sure what he should say, or if he should say anything at all. He contemplated turning back but decided against it. He needed you to know how he felt, how he truly felt.

No more hiding.

Once he got to where you were, he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you off the dancefloor. With the anger evident on his face you couldn’t help but start laughing. Was he actually serious? After everything, he put you through, and now he’s the one who’s angry? It was hilarious to you - even in your drunken state of mind.

Your laughter only made Duncan angrier. Pushing you up against a wall and trapping you by placing both hands on the side of your head. “You think this is funny, Y/N?” his voice seething. Nostrils flaring from how pissed off he was. 

You couldn’t help but think he was still fucking hot, even when he was mad. You also couldn’t help the arousal it sent through your body. Or the shiver it sent down your spine.

“Yeah, I do actually. Now if you don’t mind-” you move so you could leave, but Duncan pushed you back into the wall. “I’m not done talking to you. I don’t know what you see in that guy. He can’t fuck you like I can, make you cum like I can. He probably didn’t even make you cum at all.” he taunts while playing with a strand of your hair.

If you weren’t pissed off before - you were fucking pissed now. “He did make me cum. I can feel it between my thighs, wanna see?” you say with a smile. Duncan’s face dropped, which didn’t go unnoticed by you. “Didn’t think so, now get the fuck out of my way, Duncan.” you give him the nastiest glare you can muster up and push him off of you, walking back towards your date and your friends.

And Duncan stood there, head hanging low. Cursing himself for talking to you the way he did, for letting his anger get in the way of what he was really trying to do. But there was nothing he could do about it now. No way for him to come back from that. At least not right at that moment. 

For the last time - Duncan Shepherd lets you walk away from him.

-

Tags: @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @fckinsupreme @lovelylangdonx @wroteclassicaly @svjourn @hecohansen31 @ms-mead @your-daddy-langdon @delgrey

[guesswho-mp3]

~•Ride•~

AU: outlaw!ateez | Pairing: character x reader | Warning: ahhhhhhhh we all going to hell, smut, bondage, dom/sub tones, dirty talk, language, unprotected sex (wrap that willy before you get silly), a sprinkle of knife play, slight choking, degradation if you squint, mind-rotting fluff shawty give me whip-whiplash | Rating: 18++++ | Word Count: 1.2k of pure filth

I imagined wonderland era mullet!san and like I surprised myself with this one I had to stop multiple times to take breaks because it was just too much and I even made myself blush ahhhh

Also the oc!reader for San’s storyline is a gunslinger named Armistice Adams, I’m still working on her introduction but I just wanted to release this already.

also uhhh please don’t read this in my voice ok enjoy :)

The gunslinger peered down at her crimson lover, hair mussed and already fucked out from their heavy petting, lips shining with gloss and begging to be bitten. She could hear him, serpentine tongue slithering into her ear and soft whispers of eat me, you know you want to invaded the recesses of her mind. His black jacket was already unbuttoned, chest heaving and abs tensing with every scrape of her nails against his skin.

“I liked seeing you tied up earlier.” He traced one of his prized knives up the threads that held her shirt together, teasingly weaving it among the strings and pulling it loose, cotton shroud coming undone. “When you were completely at my mercy and just begging to be fucked with those wide eyes of yours.”

“Oh you mean when I had to play damsel to lure out our prey? I dare say Mr. Chisholm I quite enjoyed it too, but right now it seems like you're cutting me loose,” she giggled, squeezing her things together that were wrapped around his slim waist. He just gave her a wolfish grin as he slipped the covering off her shoulders, fingertips ghosting down her shoulder.

“We made off with the score because the bastard couldn’t help himself but be drawn to our helpless little temptress. Don’t worry pretty, you’ll be bound again soon enough,” he simpered, sprinkling tiny pecks along the valley of her breasts, bodies leisurely undulating against each other like the tides.

The blade, not yet done, traveled south and cut through the fabric of her lacy bloomers like butter as she gasped. San used the tip of the knife to pull back the trim and he let out a groan at the sight of her glistening cunt; slick with want and waiting to be satiated. “Oh, look at you,” he pushed the cheek of the knife directly to her sex, “already so wet, you’re practically dripping.” He collected her honey before pulling away, hips lifting up to desperately chase after the little sting of rapture. Her apparent desperation made him chuckle as his tongue darted out to lap at the heady essence, moaning when he tasted heaven. Brown sugar whiskey and peaches.

“Taste yourself.” He brought the knife up to her mouth but she swiped it out of his hand, sending it to embed itself in the wall as she surged forward, shoving her wet muscle into his mouth. San’s dulcet murmurs were swallowed as she sucked up her nectar from his tongue, grinding her core against the rough material of his pants. He fumbled with his belt, shucking it off before binding the gunslinger’s hands behind her back; the scratchy leather nipping into her wrists with the most painful pleasure.

He teased the tip of his member against her engorged clit, drawing throaty moans as the woman nibbled on the freckles that adorned San’s neck; biting down hard when he slipped in. “So tight,” he hissed, voice trailing off in a breathy whine as he shallowly thrusted up inside her. “And you’re so big,” she purred back, nipping his jaw.

He planted a kiss before he pushed her up. “Ride me.” The order was hushed but firm, and the change of position nudged his cock even deeper inside her, sweet little mewls leaving her parted petal lips. Even as he started moving, impatience setting in and fingers digging into the flesh of her hips as he increased his pace, she remained still. Using all of her weight and pushing on his knees she pinned his lower half to the bed, interrupting his building melody to slowly rock back and forth, languid sensual bass in her movements.

“Come on, you can do better than that,” he goaded, the anguished way in which he bucked his hips betraying his haughty front.

The hidden plea fell on deaf ears as she smiled coyly, “I am the one on top, sir. And by the way you’re keening under me like a bitch in heat makes me wonder if I’m the one that should be called Snake Charmer.”

He grabbed her chin, command prickling off of him with the jest that pierced his ego. “I wanted to see what would happen if I let you take the reins. But it seems to me like you’re asking for a punishment. Is that what you want?” He taunted, taking the bait that trickled so delectable set on the trap.

“I want you to fuck me, claim me, tell everyone here in this godforsaken desert I’m yours,” she sneered through pouted lips, not hesitating to make know her ravenous desires.

She was suddenly flipped onto her stomach, a hand wrapped around her neck, the other around her chained wrists she was plastered to San’s chest. “Such a filthy slut asking to be used when she’s tied up. Show them you’re mine sweetness, say my name,” he growled in her ear, setting a bruising tempo as he pounded into her. Her mouth was open in a silent cry, too focused on the way his thick pulsing cock was hitting every sweet spot inside of her. “Say.my.name,” he gritted, punctuating each word with a brutal thrust that knocked the wind out of her lungs and tightened the coil around her tingling core.

The hand around her wrists snaked to her front messy circles being rubbed on her stinging bundle of nerves as white hot pleasure shot up her veins, wanton cries of San San San reverberating off the walls of the hotel. Feeling her velvety walls contracting on his length sent tremors throughout San’s body both of them murmuring love confessions and filthy praises as he quickly pulled out. He rutted against her in short staccato until he released on her back, pearly streaks of adour painting her backside.

Her trembling form was gently laid down on the sheets, the belt disappearing as a tender touch stroked her wrists. “You did so well,” he cooed, the saccharine utterances causing her heart to thrum pleasantly against the gilded cage of her chest. San got up from the bed to completely disrobe, changing into a fresh pair of cotton pants; and his lover watched, blearily eyed on the bed as he soaked a towel in the porcelain basin in the corner of the room and wrung it out.

“Mmh, it’s sensitive,” she slurred, jerking away from the icy chill of the cloth that ran along her core.

“Shh sh, I know,” he sultrily soothed, caressing her belly with his warm palm when he turned her over. ”I have to clean you up though, we made quite a mess.” Giggles bubbled from his throat, drunk in admiration and peach kisses. He dragged a clean pair of bloomers up her legs, pecking her soft and aching thighs as he ascended.

Flopping next to her on the bed, San hooked a leg over her hip and smooshed his lips to her cheek delivering little smacks without ever daring to part. The gunslinger hummed and caressed her fingers down his spine, the both of them clinging to each other, exchanging syrupy I love you’s until they both transcended the cusp of consciousness.

:’)

[saturnjae]

maybe ~ l.j.n

word count: 2.1k

💌 requested:

‘Hello :)) i would like to request a Jeno smut scenario (if it's okay with u ) !! Where Jeno and reader are roommates and y/n accidentally walks in on Jeno masturbating, Y/n gets all flustered because it's her first time seing a d shdjcnxjwkds it's fine if u don't make this i'm just hoping, Hope u have a great day !!’

> i kinda wrote this jeno smut to cheer myself up,it might be shitty idk. please enjoy, i really liked this request as well.

includes: masturbation, fingering, protected sex, first time, i attempted to make it a little soft,,,

:::

it was a friday night and like most college students you were going out to blow off some steam. you didn’t go out every week, but you decided to go since your friend had invited you. it took you forever to pick out an outfit and get your makeup done to a standard you were satisfied with, but eventually you got there and admittedly, you looked hot!

you walked out, through the living room on your way to the front door.

“looking good, y/n.” said your roommate, jeno, sitting on the sofa. all of your other roommates were out, but him of course. though he was pretty popular on campus, he wasn’t the type to party or even go out much; he got attention for his good looks and talents, you weren’t sure why he never took a chance with one of the girls among the crowds throwing themselves at him.

“thank you!” you said flipping you hair. though you didn’t like to admit it, you had a big crush on jeno, like any other girl, so his compliment had butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “you should come out sometime, too.”

“not my thing,” he laughed, switching the tv channel. with that, the brief conversation ended and you were out the door. however, just as you were about to enter the elevator, you got a message from your friend.

~~~

[jihyun]: so sorry y/n, but something came up with my boyfriend… i can’t go :’(

~~~

you couldn’t believe her. she no doubt had ditched you to hook up with her boyfriend, which wasn’t at all a surprise. on the other hand, you had never had never hooked up with anyone, maybe that’s why you didn’t understand her obsession over it.

a huff of frustration left you as you stomped back to your apartment and opened the door, but you were greeted by a deep grumbling sound.

“y/n,” it echoed the apartment, though you had a difficult time making it out, you were sure it was your name. and then it happened again, to your innocent ears, the strain put into the word sounded like something close to anguish, desperate even. like a cry for help! was jeno perhaps hurt, calling for you to help him?

hesitantly, you approached his room, your hand stalled at the door handle, but when you heard his cry for help, this time a little clearer, you knew you couldn’t let him suffer any longer; you opened the door carefully, but when you walked in, you realised he was far from pain.

jeno’s perfectly toned form was sprawled out on his bed, a light sheen, from sweat, bounced off of his milky skin. his bangs were matted down onto his forehead, brushing just above the tops of his eyes, which were screwed shut, drawing your attention to the open mouth. of course you couldn’t forget the main attraction: the painfully red cock his fist was vehemently pumping - the fact your innocent eyes had never seen one increased the scene’s shock value - you had a perfect view of this all as you stood there frozen.

his eyes cracked open slightly, he could make out the shape of your legs. surely, he was just imagining this, but it looked so real. he followed them up to the hem of that sinfully short, black dress you had left in, your name left his mouth again. he eyed the way the dress perfectly framed your curves, how he wanted to rip it right off of you. he was so close to cumming, but then his eyes ventured further up and were met by you beady eyes, wide with shock, and at the speed of light he threw a blanket over himself, snapping out of his lusty daze.

“shit, i thought you left!” he yelled out, a crimson tint spread over his face and chest as you stared at each other; after what seemed like forever, you snapped out of it.

“sorry!” you squeaked and turned away, before jeno had the chance to explain himself. he asked you to wait, but you ignored, speeding up your steps.

“i’m sorry, y/n.” he chased after you. halfway to your room, a strong hand gripped onto your wrist and turned you around.

“i’m fine! i think i’m fine? first time seeing a dick, should be fine though.” you blurted out, trying to control your breathing. the image of what you’d just seen played over in your mind.

you trained your eyes on the floor, but when you dared to look up your eyes were met with jeno’s chest, his body up this close was a sight to behold; he was such a potato couch, you forgot the only time he went out was to go to the gym. your eyes trailed up to meet his eyes, they burned with an emotion you weren’t quite familiar with: lust?

“i didn’t want you to find out like this but,” he gulped, taking a pause to build the courage to tell you his next word, “i like you.” the words you had dreamed of hearing from him, too afraid to tell him yourself. though the circumstances were a little different to you imagined, it still made you melt. unable to respond verbally, in that moment, you decided to pull him into a kiss.

you moved your lips against his, hoping to convey just how much you liked him back. he moaned into you bringing his hands to your hip and guiding you, until your back was against a wall, trapping you. one of his hands came up to your face and he lightly caressed your cheek with his thumb, deepening the kiss slightly. his tongue swiped along your lower lip and you immediately provided it access. the feeling of the hot, wet muscle on yours had you moaning out to him, jeno could feel himself throbbing under the blanket wrapped around his waist, but wasn’t sure how far he could take it.

“i want you so bad,” he muttered, peppering kisses on your jaw, “can i have you, y/n?” he pulled you closer and you felt his erection poke at you hip.

“i haven’t done it before, so be careful.” you looked up at him, the pure, timidity in your gaze drove him wild. he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, letting the blanket fall, and brought you back to his bedroom.

he set you down, ghosting his way behind you. his hot breath fanned against the nape of your neck, as he leaned forward to lay kisses on it. slowly, he undid your zip and slid the dress down your body, letting it fall to the floor. he turned you around, caressing your hips as he gawked at your body. thankfully you had worn a nice set, since your dress was pretty tight fitting.

“so fucking beautiful,” jeno groaned, the skimpy, black lace sat just right on your body. then, his lips crashed against yours as he backed you up to the foot of his bed and fell onto it, without parting from him. his hand snakes up your body to massage your breast causing you to moan out loudly, you felt a fire ignite in your core. unconsciously, you bucked up into him and pulled away, a trail of spit still connected you.

his chest heaved as he sat up. the dim light from his lamp illuminated his lean physique, you couldn’t help but trail a hand from his chest, stuttering at the his belly button.

“can i touch it?” he took your wrist pushed it down to his base, telling you to go ahead. you had never seen a dick this close before, it was fascinating. you brushed over the soft, dark hair, the sensation of your faint touches gave him goosebumps. your hand slid down his thick shaft and it twitched slightly, startling you. jeno chucked at your dramatic reactions, but when you brushed your thumb curiously over his tip, his breath hitched.

he pushed his hips forward slightly. you wrapped your hand around the hot member, like you had seen him doing before, and slid it down all the way to his base. his whole body shuddered and his brows furrowed. you repeated the action and a grunt rumbled from him; you couldn’t help but giggle, speeding up your movements.

“shit, you’re gonna make me cum.” his hand ceased yours from moving and pinned it back on the bed. “i’ve wanted this for so long.” his whispered, removing your bralette and putting his chest against yours. he straddled your thigh and peppered kisses against your collarbone, while his hand slithered down to your heat.

“wet already,” he groaned tracing his fingers over the moist patch on your panties. he pressed down, eliciting a moan out of you, then he started to rub at it. the lazy circle he made on your nub, in conjunction with the friction the fabric caused, had you gripping at his shoulder. he pushed aside the soaked fabric and pushed in a finger, the feeling of your tightness around it made him anticipate how it would feel around his cock, drawing a moan from him.

after he felt you were ready, he put in a second digit; the slight stretch had your nails digging into his bicep. he thrust them in and and out of you steadily, soon speeding them up. when he curled them up, they hit something that had your back arching.

“jeno!” you mewled, you felt him smirk on your skin and he drove it back into the same spot. a knot began to tightened in your core. he scissored his fingers before doing it again. your breathing picked up, you could barely take it; you were almost there, but then it all stopped. a whined fell from you as you bucked your hips, in search for more.

“i want you to cum around me, babe.” he reassured you, looking into your eyes, his brown orbs overflowed with affection. he reached into his bedside table for a condom and rolled it onto himself. “are you ready?” his thumb made circles on your hips as he positioned his tip at your entrance.

“i need you jeno.” you pleaded and he proceeded to carefully push himself into you, his fingers were nothing compared to the stretch of his cock. you had never had the pleasure of taking another one, but you could tell jeno was big. your hands found purchase on his back and clawed at it. after what seemed like a lifetime, he had fully submerged himself into your searing heat, feeling it pulsate around him, needy for the orgasm he had previously deprived you of.

“please, move.” you begged once adjusted to him; quickly, he obliged with delicate and purposeful thrusts: he didn’t want to hurt you, he wanted to make you feel good.

“so tight,” he droned, burying his head into the crook of your neck. curses and the most beautiful moans came from him, he didn’t hold them back and it encouraged you not to as well. his pace picked up, you felt yourself building up again. he took one of the hands you were clutching onto him with and laced his fingers between yours.

“fuck, i’m close” he pushed deeper into you, he could tell by the way your walls were suffocatingly constricting, you were very close.

“me too, jeno, please!” he began to jerk into you faster. the pleasure was unbelievable. both of your moans grew in volume, releases ever so close. you’re sure his hand went numb from how hard you were gripping onto it and then, it happened.

the crash was more laborious than the build, your whole body went weak as your release took over. each nerve in body lit up as you shook under jeno. your vision went white and your ears were buzzing, you could barely hear the guttural moans coming from jeno, due to the feeling of your convulsing walls, over your near screams.

jeno’s thrusts grew sloppy, he chanted out your name between grunts; as he came, his mouth hung open and his whole body tensed. when he drew himself out of you, an empty feeling consumed you. longingly, you watched him clean himself up and fetch you a shirt to cover yourself with.

“are you okay? did i hurt you?” he asked concerned.

“i’m okay, thank you!” you pulled him up to you and snuggled up close to him. “i didn’t say it before, but i like you too.” you smiled into his broad chest. just as you were about to fall into a deep slumber you felt him lay a soft kiss on your forehead; you drifted off, maybe understanding jihyun’s obsession, now you had a boyfriend...

:::

again, i hope you enjoyed! i have a break from school, i’ll try and burn through requests, so i can open them again.

[detroitbydark]

Gurl, just give us some good Haz smut

Title: For Old Time’s Sake

Pairing: Vampire!Haz/Reader

Word Count: 1500+

Warnings: Vampires, Blood drinking, Oral sex on a female character. NSFW

“Just one drink for old times sake?”

That question should have sent up so many red flags in itself but Harrison had shown up at your shop, skin so pale it looked as if he had been chiseled from alabaster, cheeks sunken and eyes dead. Well, dead for a vampire.

It hadn’t taken too much more than the soft question and haggard appearance to have you locking up your small shop, pulling the curtains to cover any outsiders view of the shelves of crystals, jars of herbs and spices, and tiny brown bottles full of oils. You double bolted the door before turning to find him leaning tiredly against the door frame that lead to the small upstairs apartment.

“Goddess above…” you muttered darkly as he swayed on his feet. His eyes trailed to meet yours.

“Little witch…” he whispered the old term of endearment that had your heart stuttering.

“Shut up Haz.” You mutter sliding under his arm and helping him up the stairs.

You help him to your bed and sit him down on the downy comforter as you cross your arms in front of him.

“I’ll help you this one time but I need you to tell me what happened.” The Harrison you’d known would never let himself willing get in such a condition as you saw before you.

He takes hold of your arm with preternatural speed and yanks you into his lap thinking you’d let him get away with the trespass. One arm bands weakly around your waist while the other brings your wrist to his mouth.

“Haz! No!” You bark pulling your arm free before he can sink his teeth into your soft skin. He whines plaintively.

“Spill it Vampire or I swear I will rescind my invitation.” You threaten even though you both know it’s a lie.

He looks up at you for a second, still firmly in his lap.

“There’s a new Van Helsing whelp I’ve had to contend with.”

A pointed look from you has him continuing. “Thomas has cut me off from my hunting grounds. He’s burned my home to the ground.” You can hear the anguish in his voice and you do feel for him. You’d loved him once, you likely still did if you were willing to admit it.

A vampires home was sacred, to destroy it, an act of war. His cool thumb strokes along the pulse point of your wrist and your eyes flutter shut.

“Little witch, you want to let me drink.” He says softly. Your laughter rings out like bells in the quiet room. His looks is confused.

“You forget you can’t compel me to do your bidding? Has it been that long?”

A low frustrated growl rises up in his chest as you squirm out of his lap and toward the head of your small bed.

“You also forget, you don’t get to feed from anywhere someone may notice. If there’s a Van Helsing after your hide I don’t need to draw any more attention to myself.” His sunken eyes seem to brighten at what your saying and you suddenly are nervous about what you’ve offered.

A silence comes over the room as he turns onto the bed, kicking his boots off as he goes. His icy fingers reach your ankle, grip lightly, cautiously. Sitting back on his heels he watches you swallow hard as you nod for him to continue.

The cool digits slide over you calf, pushing up your skirt as it goes. When you glimpse his ocean blues again there is a focused, predatory gleam to them.

Over your bent knees his fingers continue their ascent, his other hand joining in, rucking your skirt up until it’s falling back against the tops of your thighs at your hips. He nudges your knees apart. You can see him scenting the air, watch as his fangs descend in his mouth. Memories of encounters before flash in your minds eye and you feel a sudden pulse of arousal. You know he knows and your cheeks flush pink.

“I won’t take anymore than you’ll give.” He says quietly, slowly bending forward and placing thin, cool lips to the inside of your knee. The breath whooshes from your lungs as his mouth continues to walk up your inner thigh, his hands on your knees keeping your legs spread for him.

“No venom.” You warn, hating the breathless sound of your voice.

“You didn’t want it back than.” He murmurs. “Even I’m not hopeful enough to think you’d changed your mind.”

His tongue soothes over an area like he’s tracing an X across the spot he favors most. He could turn his head and his nose would brush over your damp panties, there no way he can avoid the effect he still has on you.

“Still have a scar, love.” His voice is weak but appreciative as he kisses the old scarred flesh above your femoral artery.

“Get on with it.” You beg quietly. Harrison nuzzles against the marks before opening his mouth around them, the tips of his fangs tickling, feather light against your skin. You drag in a ragged breath as you feel the razor sharp edges of them slip into your skin. Your back arches as the intense sensation of his bite over takes you. Pain and pleasure mix together in a dance you remember so intimately. You can feel the warm wash of blood pulse into into his mouth with each beat of your heart. The contrast of hot blood and cold lips making you whimper and squirm under his touch. You feel his mouth sealing over the bite and hear the long wet pulls he takes. He grows stronger as you feel the first twinge of dizziness hit. One pale hand grips your knee tightly while his other arm rests across your hips holding you still.

“Haz…” you barely recognize the soft moan as your own but you certainly recognize the deep chuckle it elicits from your guest. It could be five minutes. It could be five hours for all you can tell. Your nerve endings hum as he pulls your nourishing life force into his greedy mouth. Finally he pulls back, lapping at the quickly closing holes, kissing them once more before rocking back on his heels and taking in your shallow breathing and flushed appearance.

He looks better already. His cheeks fuller, the pink hue of stolen life brightening his complexion from its previous stone like appearance. His eyes are bright and wild as they course over you. Your blood stains his lips a rosy hue.

“I used to end this differently.” He notes playfully, his fingers trailing over your soaked panties. Your thighs quiver as his thumb brushes over your clit. “I could pay you back for the drink maybe?”

You bit your lip hard as his fingers toy with you through the fabric.

“What do you say little witch? Once more, for old times sake?”

You whine out a sound that Harrison happily takes for a yes as he leans back in. His hands wrap around the waist band at your hips and you raise up so he can slide the fabric down your legs. Once it’s out of his way he wastes no time letting his tongue run along your folds, tasting the essence of you along your warm flesh. He hums happily as he uses two fingers to part you, letting one slip into your gripping center.

“Fuck, Love, so tight for me.” He growls lowly pulling his finger from you and licking your slick from it. Before you can complain about his lack of focus his mouth is on you. His tongue laps at your wetness, you can feel him drawing intricate patterns with the tip of it along your folds as you whine quietly for him. He works methodically as if he’s remembered every step in taking you apart. His lips latch onto you clit and he sucks lightly, your hands fall to his head, tangle in his blond locks, desperate to keep him in place. Two fingers slide inside you as as he begins working you in tandem, his mouth and hand pumping and sucking in a way that has you trembling and bucking into his touch. You feel a white hot flame burning inside you, growing brighter as his fangs graze your sex, until all you are is a creature of sensation. It is all too much until suddenly your body can handle no more and your spiraling, falling apart as he works you through it, dragging it out until you're over stimulated and begging him to stop.

He crawls up up your body as you lay limply under him, trembling with aftershocks.

His now warm lips capture yours. You can taste your juices and blood on his tongue and you whimper.

“My little witch.” He whispers softly, stroking a hand along your cheek. “Why did I ever let you get away?”

You don’t have the energy to do anything but nestle closer to him. A familiar hardness presses against the apex of your thighs, he’s hard and waiting, still fully clothed.

You give him a lust drunk smile as you weakly reach down and cup his length through his trousers. “For old times sake?” You ask sweetly.

[juju-on-that-yeet]

Hollow

Prompt: Whumptober Day 14, Tear-stained

Summary: Yandereplier goes on a revenge-driven rampage against the people responsible for Dark's death, but it doesn't truly make him feel any better. Direct sequel to "The Business End."

Warnings: Death, gore, blood, violence

Tagging: @peribloke (ask to be tagged!)

Read on AO3 (Full Whumptober Series)

Enjoy!

~

The moment the bullet goes through Darkiplier’s skull, something snaps inside of Yandereplier.

All he knows is red, all he knows is killing. All he feels is blood pouring over him and the resistance of bone and muscle against his katana. He hears screaming, more gunshots, his own blood, still inside him, rushing past his ears. He doesn’t need to think about avoiding bullets or knives or fists, he just does. His feet dance over the deep maroon concrete floor, his katana cleaves off limbs, decapitates heads, splits open ribcages. He thinks of nothing but words in a loop. Kill. Kill. Kill. Make them pay. Make them bleed. Kill. Kill. Kill.

The gang boss, for all his talk, goes down so easy. He bleeds just like the rest of them. His henchmen are less than nothing. Yandere’s katana rips through their paper skin, shatters their glass bones. There’s so many of them, but it’s not a challenge, it only makes it more fun. Yandere, for all his rage, is a creative soul even now. A severed head can be a bludgeon. A rope of intestine can be a garrote. A rib, pointy-end first, can be a dagger. There’s endless possibilities.

Alas, there are not endless victims, and before long only Katashi is left, cowering across the room away from Yandere. His gun is out of bullets, his hourglass is nearly out of sand. Yandere approaches him, staggering under the weight of adrenaline, fury, and liters of blood in his clothes.

“G-Get away from me!!” Katashi screams. His voice is too deep to ever be shrill, but it’s as close as it can get.

“I’ve wanted to kill you since the moment we meant,” Yandere tells him, voice high-pitched and over-dripping sweetness to match his unhinged grin. “You insulted me to my face, acted like I was stupid and worthless. Yami told me I couldn’t hurt you, I had to hold my tongue so he could work with your boss. And look how that turned out.” His face breaks into anguish for a moment, but the look leaves him as he shakes his head with a sigh. “But I’ll thank you, because you decided to bring me here so I would have a reason to pay back every word you ever said about me.”

“Wh-What the hell are you?” Katashi gasps, scrabbling futilely against the wall as Yandere comes closer. “S-Some kind of onryō??”

Yandere laughs out loud at that, throwing his head back and cackling. He wipes away a tear, not minding that it smears the blood on his face.

“If I was an onryō I wouldn’t kill you. I’d let you live, but I’d curse you, haunt you, make sure you lose everyone you love and live a long life of suffering.” Yandere stares at Katashi as he nods eagerly at the chance to be spared. Yandere sneers, and when he speaks, his voice is oozing disgust. “Yowamushi,” he growls, “You have no honor. The days you’ve already lived are more than you deserve.” He raises his katana as Katashi freezes and goes pale. “Life is wasted on you.”

Katashi dies like the rest of them; squealing like a pig, swallowing his own blood as it pours out of his throat.

Yandere turns away from him, then, turns away from the piles of gore that used to be men and looks to where Dark still lies. His feet carry him there without him trying, slow and heavy. He stares down at Dark. He’s slumped over on his side, still handcuffed, hair obscuring his face. There’s a puddle of darkening blood surrounding him. Brain matter lies in a bridge from the huge, messy bullet hole to the floor, like a lumpy, pinkish-gray slug.

Everything rushes into Yandere at once. Fear. Despair. Anguish. Disbelief. Horror. Revulsion.

He turns away, vomits onto the blood-soaked floor, and screams, long and loud, until it morphs into a wail.

Gore never bothered him before now. Blood never bothered him. Even brain didn’t; he saw plenty of it tonight as he massacred the gang. But this is Dark, this is his love, his only, his senpai, the man he was created for, the reason he breathes, the reason he lives. His reason for living is dead. Dark is dead. Dark is dead. Dark is dead.

“It’s not gonna – it’s not forever!” Yandere screams at himself. “He’s not g-gone forever, he’ll, he’ll–” He whirls around to look at Dark again, staggers a step backwards. “Fuck! He’ll come back! He has to, you have to, Yami, you have to!! Fuck!!”

Yandere knows, deep down, that he will. He knows that Dark will come back. The fans will bring him back. That stupid worthless disgusting gang boss is only a stupid worthless disgusting human, and he has no power over Dark.

But Yandere remembers his and Dark’s first Valentine’s Day, remembers how it was ruined because Mark and the fans killed Dark without even trying. It took Dark a month to come back and Yandere almost hadn’t survived it. He remembers the madness, the loneliness, the terror, the despair and hopelessness lingering beneath the anguish. He never wanted to go through that again. He never wanted to go suffer that hell again. But it’s happening now, it’s here, and once again, Yandere couldn’t stop it.

He screams again through the tears, this time with unspent rage. He was there! He was right there, just across the room from Dark, and he couldn’t stop this. He couldn’t break out of the hold of the people restraining him, he couldn’t stop the gang boss from firing his gun into Dark’s head. He let Dark die. This is his fault. It’s his fault.

“I’m sorry,” Yandere sobs, falling to his knees and only barely feeling the dull pain of his knees hitting the concrete. “I’m sorry Yami, I failed you, I love you, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” He crawls to Dark, uses his katana to cut the handcuffs away from Dark’s wrists, and lies over him, weeping into his back.

Dark is cold, but he always is; he never had any warmth left in his borrowed body. His pulse is still, but it always is; Dark’s heart hasn’t beat once for as long as Yandere’s known him. But it’s different this time, the coldness and stillness are wrong, they’re terrible and quiet. Dark’s aura is practically nonexistent, merely a gray film around his body. There’s no sound of him breathing, no sound of him speaking or shifting on the ground. There’s no sound at all but Yandere’s weeping, no movement but his own chest heaving with sobs. He can hardly breathe, hardly think of anything but his grief. He feels like his heart might snap, break apart from the wails shaking it around his chest. His whole torso aches, burns with sobs. He can’t see any longer; the tears film over his vision and obscure everything around him.

The world does not exist. The world is only Dark’s lifeless body and Yandere holding onto him, moaning, wailing, screaming.

Yandere doesn’t know how long he stays like that, lying on Dark and bawling over him. He doesn’t care to know. It doesn’t matter. But eventually, a new sound enters the room: A pair of footsteps. Then, a low, impressed whistle. Finally, a voice, deep and familiar.

“You sure did a number on these guys, Yanny!” exclaims Wilford, “Just the right amount of mess, too. Just gratuitous enough.” His walking feet approach Yandere. “Oh, it’s alright, kiddo. You know Darky; he’ll bounce back in no time.”

“He didn’t after “A Date with Markiplier,”” Yandere snaps, and part of him feels bad for it, because that event hurt Wilford nearly as much. Yandere doesn’t look up, doesn’t know if Wilford’s expression changes, but fortunately his tone of voice doesn’t.

“Good point,” he admits, “But that was unusual. That was not the first time Dark’s kicked the bucket, believe you me.” Yandere flinches as Wilford’s hand touches his quivering shoulder. “I don’t think Dark would be too happy with us if he woke up on the floor of an old, dirty warehouse, do you?”

“No…” Yandere whimpers.

“Then come on, then! I’ll take us home.” Wilford lifts his hand from Yandere’s shoulder. “Let’s go to the clinic; the scar won’t be as bad if Doc can fix it up!”

Yandere doesn’t react. Wilford snaps his fingers and poofs them to the clinic’s waiting room anyway.

“Hey Doc!” Wilford barks into the clinic.

“I heard you come in,” Dr. Iplier calls back, “What did you do this time?”

“Why do you always blame me for everything?” Wilford whines.

Yandere can imagine the dramatic expression on Wilford’s face if he tries, but he’s still crying too much to look up and see for himself. His tears are more silent now, more exhausted, aching, hollow. He still can’t stop. The tears still fall as hard as they’ve been falling all night. He can hear clearly Dr. Iplier’s approaching footsteps across the clinic tile.

“Because it’s always–” Dr. Iplier stops short with a gasp. “Oh, shit, what the hell happened!?”

It must be quite the sight; Yandere, weeping and drenched in blood, slumped over Dark’s corpse as Wilford looks on.

“I don’t know precisely,” Wilford admits, “I missed all the action, I’m afraid.”

“They killed him,” Yandere sobs, “They killed him, they killed him, I couldn’t stop them, they killed him–”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Dr. Iplier murmurs. There’s a pause as he considers the situation. “Hey, Wilford?”

“Hmm?” Wilford answers, distracted. He’s probably twirling his moustache and staring into space.

“Listen to me, Wilford,” Dr. Iplier says, solemn, “You have to stay with Yandere, alright? I have to patch Dark up, you know he’ll be mad at me if he wakes up with a worse scar than there should be. But Yandere can’t be alone right now.” Yandere feels his presence draw closer, and then his hand is in Yandere’s hair, petting gently. “Are you injured, hon?”

“He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead,” Yandere repeats, droning. It’s all his brain can come up with.

“C’mon, kiddo, let’s go,” Wilford says, voice gentler than before, “Doc’s got a job to do, and you could probably use a nap.”

Yandere doesn’t budge. Wilford grabs Yandere’s shoulders and tries to pull him, but Yandere hangs on, beginning to cry harder again.

“I’m not leaving!” he screams savagely, clinging to Dark, “I’m not leaving him! You can’t make me!!”

Wilford sighs, put-upon but maybe a bit sad, too, and grabs Yandere again, using one strong yank to wrench him off Dark and into his arms. Yandere wails, struggling fiercely.

“Let me go, let me go!” he screeches, “I need him, I need him, don’t make me leave him!! Put me down! Kutabare!”

“Rude,” Wilford huffs, struggling to keep Yandere in his hold. “Doc, can you sedate him or something?”

“I’ll only put him under if I can monitor him while he’s out,” Dr. Iplier answers, “And I can’t do that if I’m fixing Dark’s head.”

Fortunately for them and less so for Yandere, Yandere is too exhausted to effectively fight against Wilford’s hold much longer. His muscles scream from the exertion of his earlier massacre, his chest hurts from sobbing, his throat is raw from screaming. The fight leaves him slowly, agonizingly, and soon enough, he slumps in Wilford’s arms.

“Kutabare, kutabare,” Yandere whimpers.

“Hey,” Dr. Iplier murmurs, walking to Yandere and cupping his face in his hands. Now that Yandere’s tears have slowed to a trickle, he can see Dr. Iplier before him, see the tears sparkling in his eyes to see his son so distraught. “I know you’re upset, sweetheart,” Dr. Iplier tells him, “Believe me, I know. Dark will come back, he’ll wake up in a week, probably less. I know you’re hurting so bad right now, but it’ll be okay, I promise.” He thumbs tears off Yandere’s cheeks. “I’m gonna fix up Dark so he doesn’t scar too bad when he wakes up, and you can see him when I’m done. In the meantime, for once Wilford’s right: You need a nap.” Yandere’s lips quirk; it’s almost a smile. Dr. Iplier smiles in return. “Can you stay with Wilford for me while I help Dark?”

Yandere knows he doesn’t have much choice. He’s too tired to offer up any protest. His eyes want to close.

“Okay,” he mumbles, sniffling.

“There’s my baby,” Dr. Iplier whispers tenderly, kissing Yandere’s forehead before releasing him. “Wilford, take care of him, I mean it.”

“I will,” Wilford says, serious but a little offended, as he sweeps Yandere into a bridal-style hold.

Yandere falls asleep in Wilford’s arms before they even leave the clinic, tears still sticky on his cheeks. He won’t remember his dreams, but Wilford will tell him that he cried in his sleep, adding fresh tears atop the old.

[cchellacat]

Bucky/Darcy angst. "I'm not sorry you're in love with me." Smutty if you want with a bitter sweet ending.

Smut 18+

Bucky/Darcy

“I’m in love with you. There I said it.”

Darcy froze, her hand holding the knife in mid air beforeshe slammed it down on the counter and turned to the man standing in thekitchen doorway.

“What do you mean you’re in love with me?”  She demanded, her voice was unnaturally highat this sudden declaration.  

Bucky brought one hand up to rub the back of him neckuneasily, before stepping in the room properly.

“Just what it sounds like. I woke up one morning and there you were, carving my heart out with aspoon and eating it for breakfast.”

Darcy glared, this could not be happening right now.  Three years. Three years she had waited for him to notice her and now, a week beforeshe’d been due to walk down the isle is when he pulls this on her?  She takes a breath and tries to calm herracing heart.  

“I don’t know how to respond to that.”  It’s true, she has no frigging idea what she’smeant to say or do right now.  They werefriends.  Had been friends since Stevehad dragged him back here, barley functioning as a human being after what Hydrahad done.  She’d taken a liking to him immediately,had poured herself into helping him any way she could, her grandmothers’ storiesof the Howling Commando who had carried her from a concentration camp, toodeeply ingrained in her mind to do anything less then help this man who hadmade her life possible.

His posture was bowed, he looked like he’d wished he’d saidnothing.  Part of her wished he hadn’t.  

“It is what it is. Sorry.”

He walks back toward the door, hair hanging in his face.  Head bent in defeat?  Sorrow? Remorse?  A collection of allthree?  Darcy doesn’t know but in thatmoment she couldn’t let him go either.

“No.”  Her voice islaced with anger as it carries strongly through the space between then, it’smore than a statement, it’s a challenge.  He stops mid stride, the lines of him pulling together, as though hersimple word in response had given him strength or hope.  Tension spills through the room, both of themon edge and daring the other to look away.

Bucky locked eyes with her, twin blue gazes sparking coldfire and heated feeling.

“No what?  Don’t loveyou?  It’s a little late, tried giving itup, but you’re stuck in all the spaces now, you’re like superglue, you’veplugging up all the missing bits and made me whole, can’t carve you out doll.”

Darcy almost took a step back from the vehemence in histone.  This wasn’t her fault, she hadn’tset out to make him love her, certainly not in the way he was implying.  

She had waited for two years for something, anything tohappen between them and when it hadn’t happened as she hoped, she had done thesmart thing, she’d moved on, found someone else.  And fine, maybe the guy she was meant to be marryingwasn’t the one she’s in love with, but he was a good man, kind and sweet and herespected her.  

Which is why she’d ended it the week before.  Given him the ring back and asked him to moveout.  How could she marry him when theman she really wanted lived just down the hall?  When the man she really wanted was his bestfriend.   She should feel guilty, she thinks absently,that all she wants it to have Bucky fuck her right now, burn his presence intoher soul so thoroughly that the two of them are linked to the otherforever.   She should feel ashamed that she aches for himand another man suffered because she couldn’t move on.  Unfortunately, none of that mattered to herwith the way Bucky was looking at her.  Shewas caught between fury and longing.  It wasas unpleasant an emotional state as it sounded.

“Not no to loving you, youidiot. It was no, don’t be sorry. I’m not.”

As she spoke the words, she knew she meant them.  Each syllable loaded with need and anguish.  Even if it tipped her world upside down andbroke someone else’s heart, she wasn’t going to take them back.  Darcy’s voice didn’t waver, her posturechanged, shoulders back, defying him to contradict her.  She wasn’t going to let him run from this,not now he’d said it.

Bucky’s face wrinkled in confusion at her words.  What was she saying?

“You’re not what?”  Heasks, wanting, needing her to say what he thinks she’s saying.

“I’m not sorry you’re in love with me.”

He sucks in a breath then, she’s looking at him like she’swaiting for something.  Like she’s notsure this is happening and all he wants is to take her in his arms.

“Why?”  He asksinstead, drawing closer to her, only a few feet between them now.  His eyes pick up everything this close, the faintlaugh lines around her eyes, the thickness of sooty lashes framing eyes so big andblue he thinks he could drown in them.  Hereyes have always drawn him in.  They’reso expressive, everything she thinks on display for the world t see, open andhonest.  She doesn’t hide who she is, shecan’t.  The truth is he knew why.  He’d always known.  He just needed her to say it, out loud.  Because he needed to hear her, needed herpermission to do this, cross every line he swore he wouldn’t.  

“Are you really that dense? Jesus Christ Bucky, I’m…  oh for fuckssake.  You own me, you massive dick bag. I’ve been in love with you for years. Do you have any idea what it’s been like watching you go throughrelationship after relationship and every damn time, it’s my door you turn upat when it’s all over, and now you fucking tell me that you love me?  I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.  Damn it.”

She tries hard to keep her voice steady and fails at thelast.  Tears welling up and spilling downflushed cheeks.

“Hey, don’t you cry doll. I’m sorry, I’m an idiot.”  

“Why now, Bucky?  Whatchanged?  I don’t understand.”

He was standing right in front of her, he brought both handsup to cup her face, his thumbs trying to smooth away the tears.  He didn’t know how to explain it to her, howto tell her how much time he’d spent trying to figure out what the right thingto do was.  How could he say the thingshe should when he knew it would only hurt her more?

“I’m no good for you, Doll. But I want you so bad it’s killing me. I want you, I want us.  Shit, I’vewanted you for so long I don’t know any other way to be anymore.”

She gripped his wrists in her hands, nails digging into hisflesh, refusing to let go.  

“I don’t give a fuck what you think is good for me.  You are what I want.  I don’t know how to stop wanting you…  loving you. That is never going to change forme.”

“But-“

“No.  No buts. Noexcuses.  You came in here and you madeit real.  You don’t get to do that andwalk away.”

“It’s gonna break his heart.”

He’s right, she knows he’s right and it hurts.  But loving him, needing him, her body cravinghis touch, it hurts so much more that she’s willing to face the consequences ofthe fall out if he’s standing by her side.

“It already did, he just doesn’t know why.”

She reaches for his cheek, wiping away the tears that havegathered at the corner of his eye.

“Bucky…  please…”

He’s not sure what brings down the last of his resistance,or even if it had been there at all.  Butthe way she pleads so pretty, the way he knows she wants him just as much as hewants her.  He gives in.

There’s nothing romantic about it, nothing soft.  Clothes are shed quickly, mouths searchingand biting, kisses exchanged.  He liftsher onto the kitchen table, pulling her panties down, his fingers delving intoher slick folds.  She whines and bucksher hips, chanting his name between begging and cursing.  All he can see and feel and smell is her,intoxicating him.  

She doesn’t hold back, her hands wander, touching, stroking,all the things she’s imagined and more as she reels from the feeling of his hotskin, pressing against her.  She findshis cock, hard and thick, grasps him firmly in her hand and strokes him,finding the right grip, the right pressure by listening to the way his breathcatches.  Pre-cum slides under herfingers, making the drag of her skin against his easier.  She welcomes him between her legs, her feetdigging into the back of his thighs, pulling him closer till he bats her handsaway and uses his own to guide himself to her entrance.

When he pushes into her, she shudders, biting down the needto cry out.  He feels so good, makingslow shallow thrusts that ease her open as he grips her ass, metal fingers,leaving prints in her pale skin.  She knowsit will bruise but she doesn’t care. 

Whenhe’s finally sheathed himself in her he stops and kisses her slowly, tonguetracing her lips, demanding entrance.  Herhead spins and she gasps as he presses into her, angling her hips so he slidesdeeper and his tongue licks into her mouth, both of then moaning in unison.  Then it’s like a damn breaking, he takes herhard, his cock driving into her over and over as he hold her steady, kissing apath down her neck and mumbling praise into her skin. 

Darcy clutches him, holding on tightly to hisshoulders, her pussy already rippling around him, she feels the orgasm ripthrough her, his name shouted out as he fucks her through it.  Every inch of her skin tingles and sparks asshe cums.  Tears spring up at the cornersof her eyes as he thrusts, her heart beating wildly in her chest, his namecolouring the air around them.  

“Darcy, Doll,  fuck,baby, I love you, I love you…”  hewhispers the words into her ear, their bodies flush as he pulls her evencloser, drives even deeper.  Her legslock around him and she tells him she loves him too.  The cool slide of his metal hand as he reachesbetween them, finding her clit and pressing small circles over it has herpanting and begging again even as she feels the world recede and the coil ofpleasure ignites in her core once again, but it feels like to much even as ittightens and pulls.

“Bucky… please…  I can’t…”

“Cum for me one more time Doll, cum for me sweetheart, needto feel you do that again… please cum for me baby doll..  Cum with me…”

The way he pleads hasher sobbing into his shoulder even as she feels herself fall apart, the mostintense orgasm sweeping out and up and through her, walls contracting like avice around him as she lets go with a cry of his name, half whispered I love yousbreathed out from kiss swollen lips.

When he cums she feels his whole body tense above hers andthen he shouts her name, hips stuttering as he thrust erratically, warmth pouringinto her as she feels him twitch inside her before he buries himself deep, his backarching, their bodies so close they might have been one person.  It feels like heaven.  No him and her, or you and I, just them,together at last.  

Darcy presses kissing along his jaw as he pants, his armswound tightly around her, as though he may never let her go.  

“I’m never leaving you.” He tells her quietly, his lips brushing softly at hers, the kiss apromise.

“I don’t want you too.”

He nods, kissing her again as they try to catch theirbreath.

It was going to be messy, telling everyone they weretogether, but it would be worth it.  Butfirst, just for a little while, they could stay here, in her apartment and letthe world forget them for just a little while.

@the-ss-horniest-book-club

[foxofthedesert]

Arrow FF | DinahSiren

My take on Laurel/Dinah post-Star City Slayer.  Does not follow canon because, let's face it, canon is shit.  Arrow writers/producers, especially Uncle Guggie and his crew of Green Arrow and Black Canary legacy manglers, the middle finger I'm holding up right now is for you.  Fuck you all.  Oliver Queen and Dinah Laurel Lance both deserved better.  Yes, I am bitter.  Sue me.

Click here to read/comment on this hot mess on AO3.

Dinah wakes with a startled gasp from a dreamless sleep.  Instantly popping up to a seated position from where she’d been laying on her back, she frantically surveys the inky darkness of her bedroom. Instincts firmly in the driver’s seat, her heart hammers a frenzied staccato rhythm against her sternum.  Upon finding no visible sources of danger in the immediate vicinity, she strains her ears to listen for further evidence of whatever something or someone had quite literally gone bump in the night.  Again when no signs of an intruder are evident, her panic-fueled hyper-awareness dissolves into pure frustration.  For the first time since the incident, she had been sleeping soundly without a trace of the pestering nightmares that play behind her eyes every time she succumbs to exhaustion.

Probably that damn alley cat again.  Growling irritably, she flops back down against her plush mattress, determined to salvage the night if at all possible.  Tomorrow morning, she will deal with the pesky stray that has been poking around her place the past few months.  Shouldn’t be too much trouble to set up a trap and then call the pound to deport the striped, four-legged annoyance from her premises.  

Thanking God for finally deciding to cut her a break, it doesn’t take long – perhaps a minute or two – before her eyelids begin to grow delightfully heavy again.  A weary smile stretching her lips, she wiggles happily against the mattress and digs her head into her pillow in anticipation of some long overdue rest.  She is just about under for the second time when she hears it again.

*Thump*

Her previous frustration returns with a gusto, and being already primed from the previous interruption rapidly accelerates into anger as she throws the covers aside and slides out of bed.  Operating on autopilot, she snatches her gun out of her nightstand and then pads barefoot through her room as quietly as possible so as to not scare the damn cat away before she can at least get off a shot.  She will gladly navigate the radioactive professional fallout of discharging her weapon in the middle of the night against a harmless, mangy furball if it means that she doesn’t have to do this again tomorrow.

Upon reaching the door, she toes on her slippers and steadies her gait. Her pulse thrums in her veins, overeager as she is to have a go at the malicious, runty little mongrel that keeps rooting through her trash and leaving bloated dead mice at her door.  But just as she grasps the door handle, she hears another sound that stops her cold – a distinctly human sound that emanates from just outside her front door.  

Alone in the dark, her throat tightens painfully as she is suddenly transported to another time and place, a warped repository of one man’s psychotic obsession with Oliver Queen in which she almost met an ignoble death.  All of its own accord, her free hand idly comes up to brush against the ugly scar marking where Stanley Dover gave her a grisly alternative grin.  Heart thudding manically in her chest, she brings her gun up to chest level at the door as she slowly and resolutely takes the final steps toward the thin threshold separating her from what may very well be her doom.  

Terrified though she may be, Dinah is equally stubborn and unwilling to let fear dictate her actions.

Once close enough to grasp the door handle, she risks peering through the curtains for a glimpse at the potential perp.  All she can make out through the glass and low light of the alleyway are abstract shadows and the vague shape of her neighbor’s lamp blazing through their unobstructed window.  Another thump just as she replaces the curtains scares her so badly she wrenches backward as her fingers tighten around the grip of her gun and her finger settles unsteadily over the trigger.  Steeling herself for an invasion, she braces against a second attempt on her life in as many months.  

All at once, time slows down to a torturous crawl.  Her pulse rings in her ears, deafening and maddening and distracting as sweat beads at her temples and dampens her palms.  The world narrows into a pinprick field of view, reduced down to the six feet between her and whatever boogeyman might be lurking just outside her home.  Nothing happens for the longest time.  Everything is silent save for the cacophonous drumming of her heartbeat against her rib cage and the slight metallic rattle of the gun in her tremulous hand.  The moment is so unbearably fraught with danger and laden with sickly fear that she feels like she is about to crawl out of her skin.

And then, when she least expects it, she hears something that makes her blood run cold for a completely different reason than before.

“Please, no!  Don’t.  Not her...please, no!”

The slurred, delirious, plaintive pleas are uttered loudly enough that Dinah can hear them distinctly.  Instantly her terror subsides only to be replaced with a coil of dread that turns her stomach sour.  

As a cop who has been involved in her fair share of fatal shoot outs and witnessed the aftermath of senseless tragedy, she recognizes the sound of a human heart breaking.  She relaxes, if only somewhat marginally.  If anything whoever is currently outside her door more resembles a wounded animal uttering pathetic death whines than an ax murderer on the prowl or a thief surveying a mark or a miscreant hoodlum skulking about for some innocent soul to terrorize.  

Still, she can’t help but conjure up scenarios as to what she may encounter just outside.  Once when she was a beat cop, she was the unlucky first responder to a fatal domestic rampage and had to forcibly drag a mother half-mad with grief from the bodies of her young daughter and the mentally unstable partner that killed the girl and herself right in front of the poor woman.  If anything like that awaits her tonight, she would really rather stay inside.  Introducing herself to a reality which might shatter what’s left of her already fractured psyche does not seem like a wise course of action at present.

A heartbeat later, she hears the noise that woke her again followed by a strangled cry, neither of which she can ignore if wants to retain any semblance of her pride.  Cowering behind her front door may be the smart choice, but is not one she would ordinarily make.  Dinah has always been a fighter, has always confronted her demons head on rather than let them dictate her actions.  It’s the only way she knows how to cope, and she’s not about to go changing now just because some psychopath almost halfway cut her head off.

Screwing up her courage, she quickly throws the door open and immediately swings right toward the street the alleyway empties into.  Expecting to be greeted by some gruesome scene out of a horror movie, she is instead surprised to find nothing but the empty alleyway between her building and the neighboring complex.    Her brows furrow until deeply ridged as she peers down the length of the alley toward the street, gun aimed as she assesses her situation as trained by the US Government.  Poorly lit by the handful of ancient outdoor lights bolted in to the building’s exterior, she can’t make out every detail, but she can certainly see enough to recognize there is no evidence of anyone or anything having been in the vicinity.  The absence of such evidence naturally leads her to question her sanity.

Had she imagined it all?  Was she really still so spooked by what Stanley Dover did to her that she is overreacting to the most minuscule of stimuli?  Or could it be that she is still caught in the grips of some bizarre, hyper-realistic dream?  To find out, she pinches her hand as hard as she can and winces upon learning that she is indeed awake.  

Seeing as she is not imagining things and that she had most definitely heard an unarguably human voice, she settles in against the door frame with her gun steadied and aimed in the direction of the alley inlet. After drawing in a steadying breath, she waits.  

Just when she is about to give up and turn back inside, a tormented moan from behind reassures her that she is not going crazy after all while also startling her so badly she literally jumps.  Startled out of her wits, Dinah whirls around with her gun raised only to discover the lanky form of a woman sprawled on the ground less than five feet away.  Like a disoriented boot straight out of high school, she had forgotten to clear her nine o’clock – an unforgivable mistake that could so easily have gotten her killed.  

Berating herself for the uncharacteristic misstep, Dinah steps toward the inert form to investigate.  With her back pressed against the brick siding and her head turned so that Dinah cannot see it, it is impossible to make a positive identification, not that she requires one to know who this is.  The black boots, dark jeans, black leather jacket, mile long legs and curtain of golden hair are a dead giveaway.  

Dinah gasps as recognition dawns.  “Laurel?”  

Receiving no response from her breathy query, she carefully shuffles over and gingerly crouches next to the currently comatose District Attorney of Star City.  A quick tuck of honey blonde hair behind an ear sporting a plethora of piercings confirms that her nocturnal visitor is none other than Laurel Lance in the flesh.  

Of all the people to find in such at state at this hour, Laurel would have been the last on Dinah’s list.  

Whatever mysterious reason behind her presence, Dinah has only ever seen the woman as rumpled and anguished in the days following Quentin Lance’s death.  A pang of sympathy stirs her heart like it always does when she thinks of Laurel’s numerous losses.  

What Dinah knows of Laurel’s past is stocked by a gallery of ghosts stretching all the way back to before she was forming permanent memories, from her mother who died when she was still a baby to her Oliver whose premature demise was the impetus for her having uprooted from her Star City in a futile bid to obtain a fresh start.  Each death left behind a brand new section of scar tissue that accumulated until eventually engulfing the entirety of her heart.  Not long after, Black Siren was born.  

Having experienced the bitter draught of loss herself, Dinah has often wondered how the woman did not go completely bonkers after burying in the span of thirty-two years a total of three parents, an unborn baby sister, two foster siblings before she graduated high school, four close college buddies in a single day, a surrogate father, and the love of her life and then on top of all that was turned into a metahuman by a freakish explosion only to be captured and experimented on for number of years before a homicidal maniac finally set her free.  Had Dinah been subjected to half of those traumas, she thinks she might have been damaged enough to lose the will to live and soon thereafter swallowed a bottle full of sleeping pills or the barrel of the closest firearm she could get her hands on.  

Not Laurel, though, she thinks as she slowly and lightly smooths her fingers through the soft hair at Laurel’s temple.  She is unbreakable.  Indomitable.  A warrior.  A survivor through and through.  A headstrong, feisty, relentless boss bitch who would fight her way through hell just to spit in the devil’s face.

That thought turns Dinah’s expression into one of tender fondness as a smile curls her lips.  Quietly she studies features so fine and elegant and lovely that were carved as if solely to grace the covers of fashion magazines.  Caught up in her languid perusal, she soon finds herself slipping from the adrenaline rush of a life or death situation straight into the waiting arms of a helpless and hopeless crush that has developed over the past few months.  

Had someone told her a year ago that she would feel this way about Laurel or that she would be slowly introduced to a different side of the prickly blonde that was kind, considerate, sweet, hilarious, and devastatingly charming, she would have laughed that fool to scorn. And yet over the past several weeks she has discovered all of the above to be true.  And more.  

Since returning from DC, Laurel has almost daily visited Dinah bearing gifts of lunch, or coffee from their favorite joint between the station and courthouse, or dinner and a corny movie they would watch while eating on the couch like old friends.  At first Laurel’s persistence was beyond annoying, but as the days rolled into a weeks Dinah began to look forward to her frequent drop-ins.  The incrementally unguarded version of Laurel she has become acquainted with over this period is every bit as complicated as could have predicted.  She is entertaining but moody; her sarcasm is as boundless as her productive energy; she has a thirst for knowledge that is only rivaled by her passion for martial arts; she is a rabid fan of the Seattle Seahawks who yells at players, coaches, and referees and throws popcorn at the TV while they watch games together; she has an attention to detail that impresses the hell out of Dinah when it isn’t being used against her; and most importantly she is the unique brand of friend Dinah never knew she so desperately needed.  

This new dynamic they were building, peculiar as it seems considering their messy history, has been one of the few bright spots of Dinah’s short convalescence and subsequent readjustment to life after a highly traumatic injury.  Whether at work slaving over reports or lounging at home being a total potato, Laurel turning up unannounced is always the highlight of her day.  None of her other friends ever made her feel as appreciated and understood as Laurel does or ever made her laugh until her belly ached like Laurel does when she launches into one of her comical – and lengthy – diatribes about Super Bowl XL being rigged in favor of the hated Pittsburgh Steelers. Not even Vinny, as much as she loved him and painful though it is to admit, could warm her up from the inside out like Laurel’s honey-smooth voice does when it wraps so melodically around her name.

Honestly, that last realization was like a slap her in the face that woke her up to how rapidly evolving their relationship was.  In less than six weeks, they have gone from respectful acquaintances to friends to something...more.  And scary as the breakneck tempo of that progression is, Dinah has been sorely tempted of late to throw caution to the wind in an effort to define just what that something more is.  The sole impediment to taking that plunge is her own fear of what might happen if either or both of them screw it up.    

Still idly toying with silken strands of golden hair, Dinah is too wrapped up in her own musings to notice that Laurel is beginning to stir.  A prolonged groan at last alerts her to the change, and she breaks out of her own thoughts just time to watch Laurel’s face scrunch up in complaint over her awkward position.

“God. What the hell…?” Laurel slurs as her eyes begin to flutter open. They immediately widen when she realizes what happened.  “Shit.  I fell asleep.”

Dinah cocks her head in amusement.  “That you did.  Not in the most comfortable spot, either.”

Laurel has the grace to blush at the heavy subtext applied to Dinah’s comment.  They are both aware she has a perfectly luxurious bed back at her apartment she could have crawled into instead of passing out on the cold, hard asphalt.  

“I can explain...”

“Not here,” Dinah interrupts, then pushes off her haunches to stand. Once upright, she offers Laurel her hand.  “Come on.  Let’s go inside.  There’s no sense in you staying out here the rest of the night and it’s too late for you to go home.”

Taking the hand, Laurel allows Dinah to help her to her feet.  “If you’re sure,” she replies, brushing loose gravel off the seat of her extremely tight jeans, an action that draws Dinah’s gaze southward to a shapely rump her hands suddenly and inexplicably itch to explore.  “I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

Hastily averting her eyes from Laurel’s ass lest she get caught letching, Dinah crosses her arms over her chest and funnels her embarrassment into faux irritation.  “Probably should have thought about that before falling asleep outside my door.  You were having a nightmare or something.  Your thrashing against the side of the house woke me up.”

Laurel winces apologetically.  “Sorry.”

Swiftly deflating in the face of Laurel’s chagrin, Dinah shrugs neutrally. “It’s fine.  No big deal.”  The falsehood slips free so easily it causes her to wonder when it became acceptable behavior for her to lie to make Laurel feel better.  Probably about the same time you developed this silly little crush. Frustration mounting at her inability to curtail these surging feelings, she turns wordlessly to the door then starts back inside.  When she senses Laurel hesitate to follow, she pauses in the doorway and sighs dramatically.  “Oh, for God’s sake, woman.  Don’t be difficult. It’s too cold and late for me to deal with your stubborn ass. Just come in already before I actually get upset.”  When Laurel obeys, duly chastised, Dinah leads her into the living room where she plops down onto her couch before patting the cushion next to her. “Sit.”  

This time Laurel does at Dinah says without argument.  “I’m really am sorry I woke you,” she tells Dinah a bit later once they are both settled in and getting warmed up under a couple of fluffy throw blankets, Dinah beneath her well-worn red one while Laurel wraps herself in the one sporting the Seahawks logo that she brought over for their recently ritualistic Sunday afternoon football watching.  Wearing a guilty expression, her shoulders draw in tight. “I didn’t mean to.  Or to fall asleep like that.  Guess I was more tired than I thought.”

“Never mind that,” Dinah replies with a wave of the hand she’d left uncovered.  “I’m more interested what you’re doing here in the first place.  In the middle of the night.  Halfway across town from your apartment.”

The blush Laurel answers with betrays how humiliated she is at being caught in such a state.  Dinah is a bit perturbed at the thought that zips through her brain right then that Laurel has the perhaps the most adorable blush she’s ever seen and ought to wear it more often.  It is followed by a brief internal freak out seeing as now is so not the time for her crush to once again take charge of her brain.

Sadly, having noticed her staring, Laurel then begins to worry her bottom lip, causing Dinah’s eyes to instinctively flick downward. Mesmerized by the motion, she marvels at how full and pretty and symmetrical Laurel’s lips are, and wonders for a split second whether they feel and taste as soft and delicious as they appear. Unbidden, Dinah’s heart rate begins to accelerate as her chest and neck rapidly start to flush.  

A second later, the biological basis behind her strong reaction becomes glaringly apparent: that this is no simple crush.  Oh, God. Oh, God.  Stop it right now.  I’m not ready for this.  Hell, I’m not even sure this is real or if it’s just me assigning false meaning to how grateful I am to have her in my life.  I mean, I haven’t felt that way for a woman since college.  And this is not just any woman.  This is Laurel Fucking Lance!!!

And yet as it ever is when Laurel’s beauty bewitches her, the proof is all too evident.  From her throbbing pulse to the pool of warmth spreading from her chest into her lower belly, it is becoming increasingly clear that the experimental phase she went through like many other a normal university aged female may not have been a phase after all.  

Since Alanna Chambler, she has indulged a few minor crushes, but that’s all she thought they were.  Innocent crushes.  Simple admiration for the human aesthetic that any sane individual would objectively appreciate, of which Laurel is a preeminent example.  

Could it be possible that she was wrong to assume that’s all it was? That there was something deeper at play behind her noticing how stupidly pretty some girls like Laurel are?  Something she refused to acknowledge way back when because the fallout from her breakup with Alanna was an unmitigated disaster that may have scared her straight, so to speak?  The possibility is intriguing.  And terrifying.

So as not to scare the hell out of Laurel, or make a scene that will mortify her for weeks, Dinah quickly clears her throat and schools her features.    

“That’s fair, I guess,” says Laurel after a tense moment of them staring at one another with muddled degrees of curiosity, apprehension, and awkwardness.  “I won’t bore you with a sob story as to the reasons, but I don’t sleep much normally, and since I heard what happened to you even less.”  Pausing a beat, her eyes take on a liquid quality that causes a tight lump to form in Dinah’s throat. “I wasn’t here when you needed me.  Instead, I was across the country at a stupid conference I could have easily ducked out of if I really wanted.  While I was listening to some decrepit old hag prattle endlessly about how arcane certain statute of limitations rules are, you were bleeding out in a psychopath’s basement.  Had it not been for Curtis, you would be dead.  And that...haunts me.”  A shaky breath later, she adds, “I should have been here and I wasn’t and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for that.”

How long has she been holding this in?  And why hasn’t she told me until now when she’s had plenty of opportunity?  Dinah wonders, and for unknown reasons is suddenly compelled to reaches out for Laurel’s trembling hand.  She experiences a foreign but intense relief when her gesture is not immediately spurned.  

“Oh, Laurel...”

“I know it’s bizarre and inexplicable and idiotic to blame myself for something totally out of my control,” Laurel interrupts, clearly frustrated with herself for a variety of reasons Dinah can probably guess at with a modest degree of accuracy.  “Lately I find myself being idiotic about a lot of shit and taking way too much interest in things I shouldn’t.  Like, I can’t stop mother-henning Felicity over her pregnancy.  And I’ve been irrationally obsessing over what happened to you, and that is just not like me.  I don’t know why I’m so...”  

Trailing off with an anxious sigh, she runs a shaky hand through her long blonde tresses.  “Look, I don’t really understand what the hell is going on myself.  As for why I’m here tonight?  I just...the thought of you being back home after what that fucking piece of shit did to you was hard enough when Ollie was arranging an around the clock protection detail.  Now that the detail is off, I should be relieved.  But I’m not.  I tossed and turned all night last night. Same thing tonight.  I couldn’t stop running ridiculous scenarios my head.  Like what if that sicko bastard somehow managed to get out? I mean, he did it once, albeit with Oliver’s help.  Stands to reason he could do it again if the circumstances were right. Slabside security leaves a lot to be desired, you know, so that is not out of the realm of feasibility.  I...”  she sighs, scrubs a hand wearily over her face, and seems to crumple inwards as if the pressure she has been laboring under lately has finally exceeding her limit.  “Believe me, I wish I had an acceptable answer for you beyond me being totally irrational.  I just don’t.”

Stunned by that outpouring, and more than a little touched, Dinah stares at an increasingly uncomfortable Laurel, who fidgets with every passing second as she was scrutinized.  A moment later she groans in dismay. “God.  You think I’ve gone nuts, don’t you?”

That snaps Dinah out of her stupor.  Brow crinkling, she shakes her head fervently.  “No.  Not at all.  Just...I’m surprised is all.  I mean, given our history I wasn’t expecting you to ever care about my well-being as anything more than an occasional co-conspirator in one of Felicity’s schemes, let alone become friends like we have recently.  Forgive me if I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around you caring so much that you are actually losing sleep over me.”

Though Laurel does chuckle a bit at the mention of their shared tendency to enable Felicity’s fiercely adventurous spirit, the lighthearted moment passes all too quickly as a second rosy blush colors her cheeks.  Averting her gaze to study the backs of her hands, she shrugs, unsuccessfully attempting nonchalance.  

“Believe it or not, this isn’t the first time I’ve lost sleep over you. When we first met, you were the only person who didn’t look at me like everybody else on this Earth did, as if I was a tool to be used or some twisted, sickening cosmic joke being played upon them because of the face I wear and the body I inhabit.  In your eyes, I was only ever just me because you had never met her, and I really liked how that felt even if you didn’t like me very much.  Also, you gave as good as you got, which was a nice change of pace from your comrades, who always held back when they fought me, though I’m sure they’d insist otherwise.  And maybe it’s just my imagination running wild, but I’ve always felt there has was a strangely exciting spark between us.  Maybe that’s why, quite against my will, I found myself respecting you.”  Worrying her hands together, she smiles ruefully.  “I used to lie awake for hours replaying our interactions on a loop in my head, you know?  For lack of a better term I was...” she flails her arms a little here, “fascinated with you.  Still am.  Although I can see how you wouldn’t know any of that considering my stunted ability to express myself with my words instead of my fists.”

Ignoring for a moment how she had no idea Laurel felt this way, and how special knowing she does makes her feel, Dinah nudges Laurel’s shoulder with hers, sporting a playful smirk.  “Which you’re getting better at, by the way.  I was really proud of you for not decking Rene yesterday when he implied you were secretly pleased about what happened to me.  That I lost my Canary Cry.  I know you wanted to.”

To be frank, Dinah did, too.  Rene was perfectly aware the subject was a sore one for her.  Literally and figuratively.  Her throat still aches like a bitch from all the repair work doctors had to do to shore up Curtis’s emergency field cauterization.  Learning that the damage to her vocal chords will likely prevent her from every being able to use her meta ability was the pouring of proverbial salt upon the still gaping wound.  There have been so many times she’s saved lives or prevented catastrophe with her Cry.  It’s become part of who she is.  That she’ll never get to experience it again has left her with an ever-present ache she can’t help but compare to having lost a limb.  

What’s worse, she’ll never be able to sing again, either, at least not at full tilt for more than a few seconds.  Even at moderate volumes, it will likely be uncomfortable and unsustainable, not to mention that she might never be able to pitch correctly again.  Although she doesn’t have the greatest voice in the world, some of her fondest memories of her childhood involve her mother singing her to sleep, and they are so precious to her that she has fantasized often about doing the same for her own children.  Now, if by some miracle she finds love again and marries, she might never get to realize that dream.  Those compounding losses are so unfair, so frustrating, so enraging, and so very depressing that even minor dwelling upon them eventually leads to tears.

Rene should have known better than to use them as a weapon against Laurel. Not only does he know how deeply she disapproves of his continually shitty attitude toward the reforming Black Siren but he should at minimum respect her enough to never indulge his issues with Laurel at her expense.  Sometimes his tactless cruelty leads her to wonder why she still calls him a friend when for Dinah’s sake Laurel is nearly always more cordial to him than he is to her – at least at first. Those two can’t be in a room for more than five minutes without their acerbic sniping turning into clenched fists and flared nostrils.

Laurel frowns deeply at the reminder of that unpleasant encounter.  “Wasn’t easy.  I can’t believe he had the gall to suggest I gave a shit about me being the only one who can do that now.  Maybe a year ago, that would mean something to me.  But now?  If I could, I would give my ability to you.  You deserve it so much more than I do after all I’ve done.  In retrospect I can see that it’s brought me nothing but grief and regret.”

The haunted quality of Laurel’s eyes tells Dinah she is regressing into the vast vault of horrible memories that are stored inside that brilliant mind.  Memories of all the lives, innocent and otherwise, she took using her Cry.  Of the years she refuses to elaborate upon in which she was regularly experimented upon in a government facility solely because she was one of the most powerful metahumans alive on an Earth that openly persecuted them.  Of the day she got that ability, doubtless experiencing something unimaginable.  

Sometimes when Dinah thinks about how she screamed in anguish as Sonus shot Vinny right in front of her, she inadvertently draws parallels to how Laurel received her gift. None of the scenarios she has conjured up offer any comfort to a conscience riddled by guilt over her having refused to sympathize with her fellow metahuman when they first met.  Who knows, maybe if she’d tried, Laurel might have responded to her overtures seeing as they have common ground upon which to stand.  Unlikely as that outcome would have been, she still should have tried. They have the exact same ability – granted Laurel’s is far stronger and her control of it significantly more advanced; how the hell does she do that thing where she blows a kiss and emits a sonic wave strong enough to knock a grown man on his ass? – which means that their origin point has to be eerily similar. If nothing else that alone would have provided the basis to form a tentative rapport.  

But Dinah hadn’t extended the proverbial olive branch, nary even a twig at that, leaving her to wonder what happened to transform Laurel into the infamous Black Siren.  Had she lost someone she loved dearly on that fateful day as well?  Was she involved in an accident that subjected her to unbearable pain?  Or was something far worse occuring, something so horrific as to produce the sort of shrill banshee wail Black Siren became famous for?

The latter possibility never fails to send a shiver of revulsion down Dinah’s spine.  If...that….did happen to Laurel as she was being bombarded by dark matter, she isn’t sure she wants to ever hear about it.  The mere ambient suggestion of Laurel enduring something so vile is sufficient to make her sick at her stomach, never mind being regaled with the visceral details. Thankfully Laurel seems equally as determined to not talk about that day, which is an arrangement Dinah is more than happy to keep for the foreseeable future.

Whatever went down to give Laurel her ability, there is no arguing that it is the sole factor to which her presence on Earth-1 can be attributed. It was for her meta ability alone that Zolomon rescued her, recruited her into his employ, and then transported her here to facilitate his evil schemes, and as rocky as the road has been between then and now for Laurel, Dinah cannot say she’s sorry that any of it happened. The very idea of not having Laurel in her life just seems so...wrong.           

“Not always, it hasn’t,” she replies, unfurling from her blanket so she can take Laurel’s hand.  The gesture produces the intended effect of drawing Laurel away from the self-imposed hell that is her memories.  Smiling gently, she adds, “I get why you might feel that way, but try and remember that if nothing else, it’s the reason you’re not still locked up in that hellhole Zoom sprung you from on your Earth.  And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here. With me.”

“You are?” Laurel asks, looking slightly awed at Dinah’s optimistic perspective.

“I am.  Doubly so actually.”  As she responds, Dinah reassuringly rubs her thumb along the back of Laurel’s hand.  “You may have scared the hell out of me, but I’m really glad you’re here tonight, too.”

Something happens to Laurel’s face then that Dinah has only ever heard about from Felicity.  Blinking against the tears gathering, her lips curl up slightly and then pause a split second before spreading further into a soft smile that teases her incredible dimples, causes her eyes to shine and makes her entire being glow as if she is illuminated by an internal light that is unveiled at just enough wattage to convey how touched she is.  What makes it even better – or worse depending upon the perspective – is that Laurel’s expression is screaming at Dinah that she would like very much to throw caution to the wind, lean in and close the short distance between their bodies until they are breathing each other’s air, and then plunge straight off the deep end to consummate the budding attraction that has been building between them until the tension has grown unbearable.

Not for the first time of late, Dinah feels a very familiar tug at her heartstrings.  There aren’t any other smiles in the world that can do to her what Laurel’s does.  And like this, with so much raw emotion behind it?  Ordinarily it is difficult for her to deny Laurel anything when confronted by one of those gorgeous smiles, but this is just taking it too far.  There’s isn’t much she wouldn’t do right now if Laurel asked, even risk their fragile friendship to find out if those lips of hers taste as yummy as they look.  

Amazing as this feeling is, she is not all prepared to give in.  Not yet anyway, ‘cause once she does, she knows it’s all over.  There won’t be any going back for her as she is not the type to cautiously wade in to a relationship, preferring instead to dive headfirst into the deep end, and she gets the same impression from Laurel.    

Clearing her throat breaks the moment, and Dinah is a little sad and quite a bit relieved to see Laurel’s demeanor abruptly shift back into safer waters.  “And hey,” she says, hoping to assuage the tint of hurt in Laurel’s eyes, “since we’re being honest with each other, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to admit I was a little bit scared when I crawled into bed knowing I didn’t have the crutch of a protection detail camped outside my place.  First time that’s happened since I was stupid ten year old who thought she was the bravest girl in the world only to discover she wasn’t by a long shot after she watched Nightmare on Elm Street before bed.”

Laurel’s nose crinkles at the last part of the confession.  “Oof. If that is the same thing as it was on my Earth, not a wise decision.”

Dinah chuckles wryly, in full agreement.  “It certainly was not. Thankfully my Dad was a total softy for his little girl.  He was so wrapped around my finger he stayed with me every night after until the fear abated.”

“Well,” Laurel nibbles her lip quickly, her expression going soft again, “I don’t know many sane people who would describe me as a softy, and you are far from a little girl.  But there is perhaps a tiny chance that I may be slightly wrapped around your finger as well.  Meaning if you want or need, I would be willing to, uh...you know.”  She gestures lamely, blushing yet again.  

Overwhelmed, Dinah’s eyes shimmer with gratitude at being privileged with a glimpse of the real Laurel.  She figured out a while ago that Black Siren is merely a coat of armor Laurel wrapped herself in to protect her from a world she became convinced – and understandably so – was out to get her.  Every now and then, when she’s relaxed and in good spirits, the Laurel that once existed before being repeatedly traumatized and abused until transforming into a writhing black ball of hatred makes an appearance.  Every time that happens, Dinah finds herself thinking the same thing she is right now, that she would like to spend a lot more time with this woman.  A whole lot more.  Because this is someone Dinah can feel unashamed about caring for.  Someone she would not object being openly attracted to.  Someone she might, if she was willing to peer closely enough into her wonderfully traitorous heart, already be falling for.

“Are you offering to stay the night to keep me safe, Ms. Lance?” she asks, hoping the answer is yes.

“I...I, uh, guess so.”  Laurel’s initial spluttering is so cute, Dinah has to refrain from squealing like a pathetic, love-struck teenage. Sadly Laurel recovers her composure quickly.  “I mean, yes, Captain Drake.  I am.”

Rather than fold like a cheap card, Dinah decides to attempt subtlety. “Hmm.”  Eyes narrowed, she taps her chin contemplatively.  “Well, you’re right that I’m not a little girl anymore.  But...” she draws out the vowel to really sell it that is totally not a hairsbreadth away from begging Laurel to stay over and cuddle up behind her and hold her tight all night long, “I would be lying if I said I would mind the company.”

Looking cautiously hopeful, Laurel quirks her head over to one side as she is so apt to do.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, then.  I’ll stay.”

“Great!” Figuring it is way too soon for her to give in to the surprisingly powerful urge to invite Laurel into her bed, even if it is for innocent purposes, Dinah switches gears.  “So...when I found you outside, you appeared to be having a bad dream.  Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”  The answer is expected.  However, when Dinah starts to argue the case for sharing being healthy, Laurel shakes her head and physically draws herself up straighter as if gathering her courage. “But you know what?  Maybe I should.  If for no other reason than to honor the spirit of honesty we have going here.”

“Who knows, it might help,” Dinah says, hoping to encourage Laurel to trust her with whatever had caused her so much distress.  “And I promise I won’t judge.”

As if preparing for battle, Laurel takes a deep bolstering breath and then exhales slowly before returning her focus to Dinah.  “So, I’d just ask that you be patient with me.  Okay?  ‘Cause I’ve never told anyone this before.”  

Dinah quickly her extends her agreement, not daring to do otherwise in her interest to learn more about this endlessly fascinating woman. Especially something that no one else knows.  As unexpected as all of this is tonight, what is happening right now is of an importance that Dinah truly appreciates.  Felicity has been the only person Laurel confided in up to this point.  Being included in that exceedingly tight circle is a privilege she is not about to pass up.  

“I was dreaming about someone.  Someone important to me.  Someone I lost back in Central City.  I’m sure you figured out a long time ago that I lived there back on my Earth due to me being a meta.”  Dinah nods in the affirmative, recalling that her mental dossier on this Laurel Lance includes a stint residing in Dinah’s old hometown and that it was there she received her meta powers.  “What you don’t know, nor does anyone else still living to my knowledge, is that while I was there I was not as...unattached...as I have led those who have inquired to believe.”  She grimaces.  “Quentin once quizzed me about my life back there, and for the most part I was honest.  Not about this, though.  This I kept to myself because it hurts too much to even think about most days.”  

Swallowing thickly, Laurel briefly averts her gaze and when she turns it back up, there are tears born of tumultuous, raw emotion in her eyes.  “I told him once that I never really held a real job before.  And that was true in a sense.  I don’t really consider what I did in Central City a real job.” She smiles ruefully, her gaze turning wistful almost.  “I actually used to be the staff singer at this little jazz club in the Lower West side.  Place called Reno’s.  Ever go there?”

“Yes,” Dinah replies, her voice rough with surprise and a bit of her own emotional response.  

Reno’s was her and Vinny’s favorite bar back when they were embedded deep cover with Sonus’ organization.  They’d go there every Friday night to decompress after an excruciating week of living a lie in the most hostile work environment imaginable.  

Jazz has always been Dinah’s go-to coping mechanism for stress, and Reno’s was the hottest spot in which to bask in the smoothest tones and most sultry melodies the genre had to offer.  Their musicians were the best in the city, all self-taught virtuosos, and their singers skillful and soulful enough to rival Ella or Billie at their pinnacle.  For Laurel to have been regularly employed there speaks to how talented she is.  As far as Dinah is aware, the Reno’s here never had a staff singer during her tenure with the CCPD.

“Ours never had a staff singer, though,” she adds.  “Reno liked to keep things fresh.  He had a stable of singers that rotated through on a monthly basis.”

“It was the same back on my Earth,” Laurel says, fondness dripping through her tone.  “When I first started there, I had auditioned like everyone else and expected to be part of the rotation.  Which I was for the first couple of months.  My gigs started selling out by the third.  Reno liked to say my voice and presence were good enough to get me on any stage but my dimples were what conquered hearts and made fans empty their wallets.  ‘I’m tellin’ ya, girl, those things coulda made Paris turn away from Helen,’ he’d croon as he counted the cash in the till with a gleam in his eye.”  On queue those very dimples peek out through an intensifying smile, proving old Reno’s point.  

Those things really ought to be illegal, Dinah thinks.  Or reserved for me alone.  The possessive nature of that thought makes her flush with as equal measures of shame and excitement.

“Anyway,” Laurel goes on, unaware of Dinah’s internal conflict, “I only say that because that’s where I met her.”

Dinah’s brows disappear into her hairline.  “Her?”

“Does it really surprise you to discover I’m bisexual?” Laurel asks, lips teasing to one side.  “A, This is 2019.  B, I’m a Lance, so it’s basically codified in my DNA.  And C, I’ve been flirting with you pretty much non stop since the moment we met.”

Dinah splutters a moment at that, her mind rewinding manically and then playing through all of their early interactions.  In retrospect, it is easy to see that Laurel was, indeed, flirtatious virtually every time they interacted.  It was only after Vinny’s death that they turned vicious, and even then she thinks their unusual attraction probably exacerbated the meteoric descent toward outright hatred. Thin line and all that.

“When you put it that way, I guess it shouldn’t,” she says after recovering from the initial shock of Laurel so open admitting to her flirting.

“To be fair, I suppose I should give you the benefit of the doubt since your Laurel was not brave enough to admit she was every bit as bi as her sister.  Before her death, she may have still been hung up on Ollie but she was also nursing quite the crush on Felicity.”  At Dinah’s dumbfounded expression, Laurel chuckles.  “It’s true, by the way.  I read her journals and shit – you know, to study up before officially replacing her at a professional capacity.  Quentin gave them to me to boost my chances of a successful transition. Apparently bisexuality runs in the family.  Shocker.  An uncle on my Dad’s side swung both ways as does my Mom, who dated a lady in grad school right before she met my dad.  If your Laurel’s information is reliable, which I assume it is what with her having been such a veritable bastion of virtue and honesty, we share that background.”

“Wow.” Flabbergasted, that is all Dinah says for several seconds before the reference to Sara catches up with her.  “Speaking of Sara, does she know about any of this?  I imagine she’d be really interested to learn something about her sister she might not have known about.”

Settling back against the cushions, Laurel crosses her legs and hums affirmatively.  “I told her last time she visited.  I think it helped us bond to know I was more like her than her Laurel, who hid from her sexuality instead of embracing it.  Not that I’m casting stones here.  She had her reasons for remaining in the closet, one of which was our distinct preference for men.  Turns out our taste in women is very...specific.”  

Laurel pronounces that last word very deliberately and stares at Dinah pointedly as if to elaborate on precisely what type of woman she finds attractive.  She doesn’t want to think too long or hard about the ramifications if that statement is true.  If she does, she might connect the nebulous dots to form a somewhat disturbing picture, one that might reveal if she’d met Earth-1 Laurel while she was still alive they would have gravitated toward one another the same way she has with this one and might even have eventually lead to a romantic entanglement that would have resulted in radical changes to the way their lives unfolded.  That right there is a can of worms Dinah would prefer stayed permanently sealed lest she lose her damn mind.  

“Actually, I’m the same.  I think.  Maybe,” she answers Laurel after recovering from the brief mental trip Laurel’s innuendo took her on.  She scratches the back of her head, a mite nervous all of the sudden.  “I’m not really sure.  I’ve always been strongly attracted to men, but I did date a girl in college.  I just...” she sighs, “when it ended, I wrote it off as an experiment because the breakup was bitter and ugly and I never wanted to go through that again.  Now, I’m starting to rethink that assessment as a bit premature.”

Laurel sits up straight, at full attention.  “Oh, really?  That is quite intriguing!”  For a moment she looks like she wants to launch into an in-depth interrogation only to think better of it at the last second.  “But as much as I’d love to pursue this line of conversation further, we’re getting dangerously off topic.”

Dinah sighs in relief and takes the proffered out.  Things were getting way too serious way too fast for her liking.  Ready as she is to admit she is attracted to Laurel, she is not ready to act on it.  Yet.

“Agreed. By all means, please continue...”

After smoothing her hands down her jeans, Laurel launches back into her tale.  “As I was saying, I met her at Reno’s.  She was a fairly regular customer, but she didn’t catch one of my gigs until I was on staff because her work schedule didn’t line up.  That night, she approached me after the show and introduced herself.  Asked me on a date right then and there.  I couldn’t say no.  I was instantly smitten.  Being around her felt so right, as if a long lost part of me finally slid into place.  That, and she was...” Laurel draws in a breath, eyes sliding shut, “a force of nature, magnetic, witty, driven, intense, drop dead gorgeous, and so full of life and light that she illuminated everyone who came into contact with.  Like a star that burned impossibly bright and drowned out all the others with her brilliance.  We went on a date that very weekend.  And another three days later.  Pretty soon we were seeing each other every other day.”  

Pausing, her expression grows dreamy, whimsical almost, as if the memories have transported her to a time and place she might actually have been happy.  A time before her life was shattered all over again, leaving her destitute and bitter, a woman spiraling out of control on her way to the bottom where Black Siren was eagerly waiting with arms wide open.

“God, Dinah.  I fell in love so fast that I didn’t even realize until I was already neck deep.  She made me forget how broken I was.  Made me want to live again.  Made me want things I had given up on, like getting married and having babies and buying a house in the suburbs and adopting a dog and the whole nine yards.  I hadn’t wanted any of those things since Ollie died.  Sometimes I think I may have even loved her more than I did him, which was scary as hell but a relief at the same time because she understood me like no one else ever has. She not only practiced a saintly level of patience with me but she embraced me for who I was and never once asked me to be somebody I wasn’t.  No one other than my father ever loved me so wholly and selflessly.  So how could have said anything but yes when she asked me to marry her a year later?  It was a no brainer, really.  Best choice I ever made.  And the worst.”

Dinah feels awful for the surge of irrational jealousy that overtakes her at hearing some other woman besides her was the first to make Laurel feel that way.  Hating herself for even entertaining such a notion, she quickly masters herself and focuses on the information being given to her, just like she was taught to while training to become a detective.  From how Laurel’s brief description practically gushed with praise, she can tell this woman was special.

“She sounds amazing,” Dinah says, trying her best to be a supportive friend.

Laurel’s wistful smile signals her confirmation.  “She was.  Every single day, she made me laugh and smile and never once made me feel like I was defective or like I didn’t deserve her.  She showered me with so much love I honestly felt like I was about to drown sometimes. And when I got panicky about that and would take off for a few days to sort through my baggage, she would always be waiting for me back home when I came to my senses.  She was kind and passionate and strong, and while we were together, she wasn’t just my lover and my best friend and my emotional rock.  She was my everything.”

Lips beginning to quiver, a solitary tear slips down Laurel’s cheek as she ducks her head and tries to rein in her emotions that are clearly getting away from her.

“What happened to her?”  Dinah coaxes gently, sensing a tragedy at the end of the story yet needing to know, even if she feels guilty about it putting Laurel through such an emotional ringer just to satisfy her fully invested curiosity.

When Laurel starts up the tale again, her tone is detached, as if she’s had to separate herself from the memory in order to recall it without breaking down.  Dinah feels like a heel for having cause it, and yet at the same time listens with rapt attention.

“The night the particle accelerator at S.T.A.R. Labs exploded, I got home early from work.  That night was our anniversary, so Reno let me duck out right after my set ‘cause I wanted to surprise her and, like virtually everybody else that met her, he had a huge soft spot with her name written all over it.  On the way home, I picked up dinner from our favorite place and stopped to pick up candles and roses and chocolates at this kitschy little shop that catered to couples in the mood for romance.  I was setting up the table when I got the call.” Catching Dinah’s gaze, Laurel smiles with a dark wryness that intensifies her guilt.  “Just my luck, as I was being told my fiancee was shot to death on the job, I got hit with a wave of dark matter that turned my manic screaming into a superpower.”

“Jesus, Laurel.  That’s awful.  I’m so sorry.”  

There isn’t much more Dinah can think to say about a horrible tale that frankly has her on the verge of crying herself.  So they had both lost someone that night.  Dinah a lover and Laurel a fiancee.  With so little time to process this revelation, she can’t figure out which of them had it worse.  

At first blush, it would seem logical to believe Laurel was better off having not witnessed her fiancee’s death.  Dinah is not so sure that line of logic holds water, though, when she would not even be tempted to trade places.  As bad as it was to watch Vinny die, twice, at least she was with him; at least they were able to say their silent goodbyes through eye contact that communicated the undying devotion for one another that resided within their hearts; at least she had the closure of being with him in his final seconds, offering what strength she could as her love for him poured out in waves of tears and mewling sobs.  

Laurel came home just like she did every other day, excited to share an anniversary with the woman she loved only to receive a phone call no one wants to get.  She never got to say goodbye, never got to say I love you one last time, and had to hear from someone else how the person she was prepared to commit the rest of her life to died doing her job.  Many may see that as preferable to being there when it happened, but not Dinah.  To her, Laurel’s was by far the worse fate.

Just as she is about to brave inquiring how it happened, something else occurs to her about the way Laurel worded a particular phrase.  Like a search dog having picked up a scent, she follows the trail with blind determination.  

Arms crossing defensively over her chest, she tilts away from Laurel and spears the blonde with a sharp glare.  “Wait a sec.  She was killed on the job?  What exactly did she do?”

Confused, Laurel’s brows furrow.  “Uh...she was an undercover cop with the CCPD.”

Dinah nearly launches out of her seat at that shocking tidbit of info.  There weren’t a lot of women working undercover with the CCPD during that time and most of them she knew personally.   “Are you serious? What was her name?”  Looking conflicted and pained, Laurel refuses to answer, which piques Dinah’s curiosity.  Other than the obvious, she gets the feeling there is something about this woman’s identity causing Laurel to cling so doggedly to secrecy.  The only reason she can think of is that Laurel wishes to spare her feelings.  But why? The answer resonates so suddenly and heavily through her bones that she gasps aloud.  “Laurel, did you know me?  I mean, the Earth-2 version of me?”  Still no answer.  “Laurel?”

Stubbornly shaking her head, Laurel launches off the couch, arms wrapping around herself as she begins to pace.  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.  I know I said I’d tell you, but I can’t do this anymore.  It’s too painful.  Losing her almost killed me.”

I know how that feels, Dinah thinks.  And just then something truly terrible then occurs to her that radically turns the conversation away from another even more startling revelation that might well have altered her entire perception of Laurel Lance had it been allowed to surface.  It doesn’t, though, because Dinah loses her grip on that thread as a surge of fury courses through her veins.  

“Why did you lie to me?” she demands, thoughts spiraling back to not-so-distant past, to a visit from Laurel at her office at CCPD that contained an apology that served as the catalyst for their current, far more healthy relationship.

Frowning deepening into a scowl, Laurel stops pacing and glowers at her. “Excuse me?”

“You said once that you could only imagine how I felt when you killed Vinny.”  Dinah stands now, accusation as present in her tone as it is her posture.  “If what you just told me is true, then you know exactly how I felt.  Were you just playing me back then to gain my sympathy?”

The unexpected course change punctuated by that harsh accusation sends Laurel reeling back a step.  “What?  No!  I meant what I said. What happened to me was not the same as what I did to you.”

“I fail to see how,” Dinah shoots back obstinately, her anger having usurped all other concerns.  Like an unforgivably stupid sap, she had fallen for the line and let Laurel into her life and into her heart on false pretenses. 

Under attack, Laurel digs in her heels.  Those intense green eyes flash with indignation.  “Well, you should.  My fiancee was killed by a heartless monster.”

“And Vinny wasn’t?”  Dinah almost apologizes the second the barb leaves her mouth.  Almost.  She probably would have if the petty part of her was not fully in control and currently enjoying watching Laurel blanch as if stricken.

“Okay, wow.  That hurt, even if I deserved it,” Laurel replies in little more than a whisper.  Her posture radiates unadulterated hurt. “But I swear to you, Dinah, my apology was genuine.  I did not want to kill him.”

That is the last thing Dinah wants to hear right now.  Not when she is incensed by the sting of betrayal.  And to think she had almost convinced herself she was over Vinny’s death.  The worst part is she doesn’t know who to be more angry with right now for the deception, Laurel or herself.  Unwilling to accept any blame for one of the most traumatic moments of her life, only one target remains at which she can direct her ire.

“Then why did you?  Huh?!” she asks, aggressively stepping into Laurel’s personal space.  Way in the dark recesses of her mind, she knows this conversation has been a long time coming and their mutual avoidance of it is what led to this disastrous breakdown of what was otherwise a very pleasant – and enlightening – conversation.  Too bad she doesn’t care about that right now.  All that matters in the moment is getting answers to questions that have been eating away at her for far too long.  

“Why, Laurel?” she presses.  “You say you didn’t want to.  You say you’re sorry.  If that’s true, give me an actual answer that isn’t some lame bullshit excuse to cover your sorry ass.”  No reply.  “Answer me, dammit!  You owe me that much!” Frustratingly, Laurel continues to remain mute, which essentially pushes Dinah over the edge.  Laughing bitterly, her entire frame vibrating with barely restrained rage, she clenches her hands into fists at her sides.  “God, you’re such a lying cowa -”

“I didn’t have a choice!  Okay?  I didn’t!”  Laurel’s explosive interruption shocks Dinah into stunned silence.  Taut as a rope pulled between two diesel trucks, she listens to the explanation that follows. “When Cayden told me not to make him doubt my loyalty that night, it wasn’t an idle threat.  He could have killed me on the spot with little to no warning.  He had that power over me and we both knew it.  So I did what I always do.  I chose myself.  I chose to live.  I’m not proud of it, but there it is.”  

Pausing, visibly distraught, Laurel wraps her arms around herself as if in a desperate bid to keep from falling apart.  She has never looked more vulnerable, more fragile, more unsure of herself and frightened of Dinah and close to utterly unraveling.  The sight affects Dinah more than she would have liked, and she soon finds her anger uncoiling as Laurel grows increasingly emotional.

“I didn’t want to kill Vinny, Dinah.  I liked him.  Respected him, even,” Laurel goes on, expression matching her tone, both begging for Dinah to understand and to not hate her.  Loathe as she is to admit it, Dinah is convinced that she is being honest.  “He was the only person in that rag tag group of miscreants and degenerates that treated me like a human being with value.  I guess it’s because he was the only one of us with a halfway functioning conscience.” Curling in on herself, Laurel takes a shuddering breath.  “Just a second ago you were about to call me a coward.  Well, you’re right. I am.  I am worthless coward and a horrible person who will always choose herself and nothing I do or say will ever change that.”

Silence descends over them in the wake of an admission that rings to Dinah as patently false.  Laurel has proven so many times over the past six months that she is anything but a coward incapable of meaningful change.  Her most vocal detractors grudgingly admit she is a fair if not aggressive District Attorney, she has not once hurt an innocent during her extracurricular excursions to seek justice for her slain father, and she has even made friends who would be very upset with Dinah right now for causing her so much distress.  Hell, Dinah is one of those friends, or thought she was anyway before tonight cast shade upon that assumption.  If she was Laurel’s friend would she been so quick to accuse Laurel of such an underhanded tactic as using Vinny’s death to manipulate her?

Shame cascades in waves through Dinah’s chest, drowning out every last stronghold of animosity bitterly clinging to the surface of her heart.  It wouldn’t take a detective to figure out how badly she just hurt Laurel, what with Laurel wearing her pain the same way a relentlessly browbeaten prisoner might heavy shackles. Unfortunately, Dinah’s pride gets in the way of her issuing the apology dangling off the tip of her tongue.  With neither willing to speak, the silence that stretches on until they have both wallowed in miserable, awkward discomfort for so long that it doesn’t appear there is any salvaging what was once such a promising conversation.  

Laurel is the one to break the stalemate when she sighs in defeat. Shoulders slumping, she glances toward the door then says, “I should go.  Before I do, I have to tell you again how sorry I am.  I am so sorry, Dinah.  So very fucking sorry.  There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t wish I was as brave as you.  That I would have done the right thing.  If I had, Vinny would still be here, you’d be happy, and Cayden would have killed me, meaning at long last my miserable existence would be over.  I know that means nothing to you right now, but I hope some day it might.  I’ll let myself out.”

Still stunted beyond the ability to respond, Dinah can only watch as Laurel rushes out the door and disappears into the night.  Once the ability to function returns some minutes later, she shuffles over to the couch on shaky limbs, collapses heavily onto the welcoming cushions, and sits there numbly until the tears finally arrive.  Besieged by so many emotions she cannot hope to begin sorting them out, she cries and cries until it feels like she has permanently exhausted the ability of her tear ducts to function.  

Emotionally spent, she lays there wrapped up in her blanket and stares blankly at the wall, willing the oblivion of sleep to abduct her away from the sight seared into her imagination of the deceptively delicate flower that is Laurel Lance blooming right before her eyes only to immediately wilt under an onslaught of insensitive recrimination Dinah can scarcely believe came from her.  Like a switch was flipped when her brain made that connection to Vinny, she had launched into attack mode and proceeded to mindlessly obliterate the remarkable progress she and Laurel had made tonight.  For a while there she had felt so encouraged over the direction they were heading that she allowed herself to be swept away on wings of hope.  What a fool she’d been!  Now, only barren emptiness remains where once there was a verdant field lush with promise, and she has no one but herself to blame for the dramatic and pervasive wasting.  

With no tears left to cry and nowhere to hide from her guilt and shame, Dinah remains motionless upon couch until long after the sun has once again arisen in the East.  Those hours are some of the most lonely and wretched of her life.