#got longer than i intended but oh well lmao

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

I never talk about Commander Pirkko so y’know what. I think I’ll talk about Pirkko for once. She needs it she deserves it.

While the Commander has always been known for her bravery on the battlefield, only those that have fought alongside her know just how intense that loyalty gets. She never gives up, never backs down, never leaves a soldier behind-- no matter how impossible the odds. She’ll charge into an army of Risen all on her own if she has to, slicing through the horrors with a brutal ferocity that even gives her own comrades chills. Every time they see it, they thank whatever forces of nature they believe in that this monster is on their side.

But, while that recklessness usually has few consequences due to an unusually rapid healing rate and high tolerance for toxic substances, she certainly isn’t immortal. It doesn’t always end quite as well as she intends.

The result is that despite her drastically increased healing speed... Pirkko has sustained a fair number of injuries over the years, some more obvious than others. The most visible is the loss of one eye; Pact veterans still tell tales of the encounter, in which she still insisted on fighting on even after sustaining the wound. Pirkko refused to retreat until she was certain all of her remaining soldiers had made it back safely, no matter the cost to herself.

Her lost eye was replaced with an experimental mechanical implant, but it does mean she has significantly reduced peripheral vision on her left side and has to perform regular maintenance on the hardware to keep it in working order. She also keeps in contact with a medical engineer from the Pact, who helps with any adjustments she can’t do on her own. Occasionally she experiences phantom pains from it as well, particularly when there are environmental pressure fluctuations. Most aren’t really aware of that, though; she doesn’t talk about it, and they don’t ask.

EMPs and ley energy tend to interfere with it too, resulting in a wide array of malfunctions. In more extreme circumstances it may cease operations entirely.

Not everything about it is awful though; there are some unique features to the device, including enhanced focusing abilities, night vision, and an optional UI that displays useful information such as temperature and energy readings, status checks for her equipment, and remote interfacing technology. Some of it was the handiwork of her asura friend, and some of it was her own idea.

Pirkko’s other equipment has a particular source as well; her main armor was actually fashioned from repurposed Molten Alliance machinery mixed with her own personal tweaks, and includes their signature fire magic channeled through custom conduits to fuel her holosmith weapons. It’s a volatile mix, but extremely potent in a pinch-- and with her careful calibrations, it’s kept fairly under control. So long as she doesn’t let the holoforge overheat, that is...

Likewise, her rifle is exactly what it looks like, too. She took Scarlet’s Kiss from the Breachmaker after defeating its owner, but not for the reasons one would expect. Pirkko was all too aware of what was happening to her ex-nemesis, and took her weapon to finish what Scarlet had started. Maybe the crazed sylvari wouldn’t live to see her draconic tormentor fall with her own two eyes, but Pirkko would make sure her weapon helped bring it to an end. That goal, at least, was something the two engineers had in common.

Eventually a certain rather unexpected reunion would result in Scarlet learning what had become of her beloved boomstick, but by then... Circumstances between them were just a little bit different. And, in the end, she’d agree that it suited the Commander well.

... But that’s a story for another day.

[dynmghts]

TRANSMISSION FROM @osoreruna : "why didn't you say something before? why didn't you tell me? tell SOMEONE?" EMOTIONAL STARTERS , ACCEPTING .

feeling interrogated is one thing. katsuki has been on the receiving end of that before, where people try to delve in to find the heart of the reason, determined to mine out the truth even if they have to take a sledgehammer to it / that, he could handle. he didn't spend a lot of time caring about extras trying to get something out of him, because he didn't care about them.

but nothing prepares him for the feeling of interrogation from his idol, his mentor, one of the few people he holds in high regards ; nothing prepares him for all might asking that question of why.

the young bakugou's teeth grit together. his brows furrow, gaze avoiding all might's while his hands clench into tight fists. some of the choice words he has in mind never make it past his throat, while others await on the tip of his tongue, waiting for the moment he cracks ... [ because while the hurricane spirals and lashes against the world, a boy resides in the eye, sheltered and protected and isolated all the same. ] ... and can't contain his thoughts anymore.

why didn't you say something before, the question echoes, and katsuki finally snaps back ; ❛ why the fuck would i ?! ❜ his shoulders ache with their rigidity, palms hurting at his nails embedding into calloused skin. his hands shake. with his fringe in the way, it's hard to see anything beyond the curled up and vicious snarl he wears - but he makes himself smaller, almost, hunching over with his arms closing around him. [ stains of hot salt water sting his cheeks, but he refuses to lift his gaze and face his idol. ]

katsuki's fingers curl with tension, no longer digging into palms ... but they are rigid instead, tendons and muscles struggling to maintain their position as the ache snakes its way up his arms. ❛ i don't treat my issues like they're some story people are entitled to hear ! all they'll do at the end of it is pity me, anyway, and i don't need that. hell, i don't fucking want that ! ❜

a sharp breath follows, and katsuki reaches to grab at his other arm. his heart hammers against his ribcage. its furious and erratic beat gnashes at bone with an intense protest, his lungs filling up with a billowing and thick smoke that smothers oxygen, even as he tries to control his breathing. the inner tempest roars and presses violently against his larynx. he wanted so, so badly to not lose himself in front of all might like this / he was fighting it with every fibre of his being.

[ but as he steadies his breath enough to talk, he knows : it was a fight he couldn't win. not this time. ]

❛ this is my shit to deal with, and i - i have it handled. ❜ his aching hand reaches to wipe away at the string of salt water down his face, grimacing at its texture. ❛ don't treat me like i haven't. ❜

[justwinginglife]

Just For A Summer

Yall this was not supposed to be NSFW but kinda got that way on accident. I’m horny, what of it? LMAO. It is also significantly longer than I had planned and that's because I got lost in Soshiro La-La-Land and couldn't stop writing.

At first, you thought maybe Japan was just a small country. It was an island nation after all. But then you'd started to wonder if maybe something as dramatic as destiny could've brought you constantly colliding with a certain Soshiro Hoshina.

You were on your first vacation in years -a little treat to yourself before you had to return to your real life, your real job, your real responsibilities- and you noticed that the most delicious distraction you could ever have hoped for just happened to keep crossing paths with you on this now-delightful vacation of yours.

"And so we meet again, mysterious lady." He starts walking up to you with a smirk on his face and you return his smirk.

"It appears we do. Did you end up going with the chocolate croissant or the almond croissant?"

He throws his head back and laughs at your astute memory. "A couple days ago, at the bakery? Chocolate. Love me some chocolate."

"So tell me- are you stalking me?" You joke, though honestly unbothered by if he is or not, your sense of logic skewed by your attraction to him.

"Oh baby, if I was pursuing you, I'd do a whole lot better than this."

"Alright, I'm gonna need your name now if I'm going to just keep seeing you everywhere." You tease.

He bows dramatically. "Soshiro Hoshina, at your service."

You give him your best overexaggerated curtsy and introduce yourself as well, earning a grin from him.

"M'lady, what a pleasure it is to finally make your acquaintance." He takes one of your hands and makes a show of pressing a firm kiss to it, his eyes never leaving yours.

It was his idea to have brunch together but you had been just about to propose the idea yourself if he hadn't. You had chalked up the last several meetings with him as coincidence, but you weren't about to let him slip through your fingers again, not this time. Not when he smiled the way he did, not when he laughed the way he did.

It had to mean something, had to be some sign from the universe, that you'd run into him at the aquarium, reached for the same book at the bookstore, almost crashed bikes together in the park, and finally had breakfast right across from him at his favorite cafe the other day. So now you planned on running with this chance that fate had given you.

So there you were, having brunch with a handsome man for the first time in your life. Teasing him about his choice in food. Laughing at his jokes. Soaking in the sound of him laughing at your jokes. Splitting dessert.

In just a few hours, you knew enough about him to know you never wanted to stop knowing him. He wouldn't tell you what he did for work but he told you everything else. You- a complete stranger. He must've thought that you probably wouldn't see him again after this and that there was no harm in spilling every little detail about him. Or maybe he just liked you that much. You intended to find out if he did. You certainly liked him.

You exchange numbers with him as brunch ends, telling him to text you when he needs you, and then you start to walk away. You don't even make it a few steps when your phone beeps in your hand. You look down at it, puzzled.

I need you now.

You turn around and see that the goofiest grin is spread wide across his face.

"Hey. I've got the craziest idea. Spend 24 hours with me."

He's bold, you'll give him that. You literally just officially met a couple hours ago. He could be a serial killer for all you know, you could be a serial killer for all he knows. But something about the gleam in his eyes and the curve of his lips is so tempting. You want to spend more than 24 hours with him. You want to get lost in him. You agree to his preposterous idea in no time at all, thinking to yourself if he is a serial killer you might have to rethink your stance on them.

"Ahh, so you're crazy too, I see. I like that." He says after realizing you're actually serious about his proposal.

He holds a hand out to you. "Shall we go then, m'lady?" His eyebrows wiggle at you playfully.

That elicits a bubbly laugh from you. "After you, m'lord."

He takes your hand and walks you down the street, pointing to places that you need to try during your stay here, and places to avoid, claiming that you're too classy a lady to be seen near them. He barely knows you, he doesn't know if you're classy or not. But you love that he sees you that way. In fact, you're starting to love anything he says.

You listen to him talk to locals, as they offer to buy him dinner and thank him for his service. You're starting to wonder what it is he actually does for work, but you know he's been avoiding it so you don't ask. You just like that everyone around here seems to know him and seems to love him, it further solidifies his good character in your mind.

You wonder if three months will be enough to satisfy your need to know him. You wonder if he'll even let you spend the whole summer with him or if you're just some random interest he picked up today and will drop tomorrow. He did only ask for 24 hours after all.

After spending a whole, wonderful day together, you finally part ways with him at your hotel. You're just walking up to the door when your phone beeps.

I need you again.

You laugh as you turn around to face him not even 60 seconds from when you'd said goodbye to him. "Just can't get enough of me, huh?"

He grins devilishly. "Never. And I seem to remember requesting 24 hours from you... I don't think it's been a full 24 yet."

You blush. "Do you... want to come in?"

His teasing eyes and playful grin suddenly disappear, replaced by a darker, hungrier look. "Oh absolutely."

Your heart hammers in your chest but you attempt to ignore it as you lead him to your hotel room. You never touch the mini bar whenever you go to hotels because they're so expensive, but this time you feel like you're in need of a drink, so you grab one for you and one for him. You're already throwing all sense of logic and ration out the window anyway, spending a full 24 hours with a complete stranger, you think you can allow yourself a drink or two.

After three drinks and lots of heavy flirting, he finally makes a move.

"Took you long enough," You murmur against the heat of his lips.

"Apologies, I'll do better next time." He laughs and then pulls you onto his lap, kissing you deeper.

His tongue snakes its way into your mouth, hungrily claiming everything in its path. You moan into him and the sound involuntarily makes him clench his hands around your hips tighter.

Then you start to feel the roughness of his erection against your mound, his desire made evident even through layers of clothing. You roll your hips forward and engage it with friction. The sensation makes him hiss as he anchors himself on the crook of your neck, breathing heavily.

He pulses underneath you and the delicious movement in between your legs is enough to get you desperate to rip down your dripping panties. It's like he knows what you're thinking because he lifts you up with one arm and with the other he yanks down your pants, hooking your underwear as well, in one smooth motion. Then he settles you on top of him again.

"I'm a gentleman, I don't make my women undress themselves." He growls against your neck, sucking at it before tearing off your shirt and unclipping your bra.

"I'm going to make you forget you ever had other women." You shove him down on the bed and though he's surprised, he's clearly pleased.

Then you sink between his knees and start to lick a trail up and down his length, teasing his tip with a nip here and there. You start gently sucking an inch at a time until finally you're choking back his full erection. You pull away suddenly and he has to bite back a whine at the absence of your mouth.

He watches you intensely, trying to figure out your next move, then he groans against his fist when he sees you dragging your hand roughly along your moist folds, coating it in your own slick. Then you pump his cock up and down in your wet hand, rubbing your thumb aggressively across his swollen end. His precum oozes down your palm and you lick it off when you pull away yet again.

He thinks he might just yank you onto his dick at this point if you keep teasing him. But you're desperate for him too. You start to straddle him and he bites his lip in anticipation. Then you begin grinding your cunt against the length of his cock, not allowing him inside you just yet, but not letting him forget how wet you are.

"Are ya gonna do everything to my dick except fuck it? Goddamn." He grumbles, though flushed and breathing heavy.

"Saved the best for last, baby."

Then you give him what he wants. You plunge his cock into your depths and a moan rumbles low in his throat as your walls clench around him. He grabs hold of your hips and jerks you up and down, almost choking at the sight of your bouncing breasts as you continue to ride him. A hand leaves your hip and cups one of them, giving it a good squeeze. His thumb drags back and forth across your peaked nipple, causing you to soak his cock further.

"You're so fucking perfect, I can't take it anymore." He yanks you closer to him and starts slamming his hips upwards, thrusting into you with a speed and intensity that gets you screaming his name.

You're not one to hook up casually. You're not one to throw yourself away for one person. You have a good job, a good life- a life that's waiting for you to come back to it, just across the sea. But you're starting to forget all sense of who you were before this man came and ruined your life- ruined you. You need him to ruin you. You need him to bury himself deep inside you and cream every inch of your quivering cunt. You want to milk him dry and leave him shuddering beneath you.

And you do. Over and over again.

It's the best high of your life, orgasming against his muscled chest as he floods you with his seed. And then again in the shower when you try to clean yourself up. And then again on the couch when you try to watch TV together. And then eventually it's 5 in the morning and you're still fucking on the floor like you're both touch starved.

He pants on top of your back, kissing at your shoulder as he finishes fucking you from behind this time. Your knees dig into the floor as his cum spurts out in erratic bursts, sloshing against the cum that's still inside you from the last several times. "Fuuuck. How many times does that make now? You're going to drive me crazy."

"Oh I'm going to, huh? I'd say you're already there considering half of the times we went at it were your idea."

He pulls out and collapses on the ground beside you, his breaths heaving in his chest. "Don't say that like you aren't just as horny as I am, who was the one fucking my face with their pussy when I thought I'd try and take a nap?"

You roll over to him, giggling as you snuggle against his side.

He wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer as he kisses the top of your head. "I say we just pass out here on the floor. Get some Z's finally."

You poke his nose disapprovingly. "That's gonna break your back and I wanted to be the one to break it. Get on the bed with me and cuddle me to sleep."

He mumbles his agreement and the two of you pull your aching bodies off the floor, not even bothering to wash up this time. You know you'll just get horny if you shower together. Again.

You lazily wipe a towel in between your legs and then sink into bed next to him. It takes you a moment to fall asleep because he knocks out almost immediately and you've never seen him sleep before so you're intrigued. You watch as his lips part to let out slow, rhythmic breaths. You're tempted to kiss him again but the sound of his gentle breathing lulls you to sleep. And it's the best sleep you've ever had.

The next morning you find he's not in bed with you and you're significantly more hurt than you expected but the stinging subsides quickly when you see him sneaking back into the room with a platter full of food.

"Trying not to wake me?" You ask, stretching as you yawn.

"Trying to surprise you but you kind of ruined that." He shoots back with a teasing grin.

The two of you bond some more over breakfast, as you spoon feed him and he cleans leftover food off your face with his tongue.

He eventually has to leave for work but he promises he'll visit you again, saying he had too much fun not to come back.

The rest of the summer is the same- the two of you steal whatever time you can from each other, lost in your own world, forgetting that anyone else even exists.

You told him about your job, about your family, about your whole life, and he listened to every second with increasing interest, even getting annoyed on your behalf when you'd run through your list of ex's with him and what happened with each one. He'd eventually given in and told you what he did for work too, and you kept mock saluting him the rest of the day. After the fifth time calling him Vice Captain, he'd pinned you to the bed, growling "It's Soshiro" to which you giggled.

You'd also shown him your gigantic list of every tourist spot you'd ever wanted to visit in Japan, reassuring him that it was fine if he didn't have time to take you to all of them but he took you everywhere you wanted and more- showing you a few secret spots he'd found himself.

Once, he took you for a boat ride and when you'd almost drowned, he dove in fully clothed to save you. He teased you afterwards about your inability to swim, but you noticed he always had a careful eye on you and one hand around your waist after that and it made you smile.

You even met his brother, completely on accident. You're sure he didn't intend on introducing a summer fling to his family but it happened all the same. And when he bit his lip as you eyed his brother, you were tempted to tease him about the jealousy. But you didn't. You savored the feeling of him not wanting to share you with anyone else. Even for just a moment, even if it was delusional, you were his alone and you enjoyed it.

But then everything you'd been avoiding for three months came crashing down on you suddenly when you realized you only had a couple days left in Japan. If he remembered that your time was coming to an end, he didn't let on because he acted the same as he always did. You thought maybe he'd plead for you to stay, or even just joke around and try to convince you that the food here was better anyway. But he didn't and the longer this went on, the more you realized you must've misjudged how he felt about you. You were just a summer fling after all and you couldn't make yourself mean more to him than you actually did.

Eventually the dreaded day comes and he's nowhere to be found. He won't answer your calls or your texts. It's like he never even existed in the first place. Like he was some figment of your imagination, a little slice of heaven you'd made up in your mind.

Your lungs are thick with shock, every breath coming out panicked and heavy. Part of you demanded to know where he was. You needed to see him. To tell him how you felt. To say thank you for a wonderful summer. To just say goodbye at the very least. But part of you had accepted this fate. What right did you have to his heart? It'd only been three months after all. You'd promised him nothing and he'd promised you nothing. The sum of your three months was just that- nothing.

And now that you were in the cab, riding away from the hotel where you'd spent many wonderful nights in his wonderful arms, the weight of that nothing was hitting you hard.

You arrive at the airport, stumbling as you drag your lifeless body out of the car. The airport doors open for you and you step through in a daze. You don't even remember getting on the plane but suddenly you look down and your seatbelt is fastened, ready for the flight home. Home. You don't even remember what home feels like anymore.

A flight attendant comes up to you to tell you to turn your phone off. You slide your thumb up to the power button and then your phone beeps. Tears burst from your eyes as you see the messages that are flooding the screen.

You said to text when I need you.

I need you.

Come back to me.

And then suddenly you're yanking your seatbelt off, your bag flying behind you as you bolt out of the plane. Everyone stares at you as you sprint through the airport like a madwoman. You ignore them and you ignore the burning in your lungs as they try to catch up with the beating of your heart.

And then suddenly there he is, standing in the doorway of the airport, arms spread wide for you, smiling through his tears.

You run into his arms and finally, you remember what home feels like.

[sunboki]

⎯ THE DEVIL'S PLAYTHING a Christopher Bahng fiction

💣 : Christopher Bahng x fem. reader

TROPE. bodyguard au, demon au, friends to lovers, eventual smut, minors DNI

WORD COUNT. 6.6k words

WARNINGS. chan & han are demons(NO POLY), mentions of lucifer/the devil, eventual smut, descriptive violence, smoking, fighting, cursing, blood, wounds, drinking, reader gets drunk/passes out

PLAYLIST

AUG'S NOTES. this started as a random blurb while in the bathroom(tmi i know) but i just HAD to make a longer adaptation!! as usual, if you enjoy the fic please feel free to leave feedback & a reblog!ised ya’ll bodyguard chan would be back.. your wish is my command~

SYNOPSIS. A petty robbery leads to deep debt for Chan, a white-eyed demon occupying Hell. So eventually, he finds himself faced with no choice but to go job hunting. The best offer available? A bodyguard gig in the human realm. Oh, and the worst part? Jisung’s here too.

or alternatively :

When Chan had to leave Hell to "babysit" (a.k.a. protect) you in the human realm, he wasn’t expecting for things to turn out the way they did — in more ways than one.

SMUT WARNING. usage of the nickname “bunny” and “good girl”, somewhat hinted size kink, praise, dumbification, barely dubcon (reader gives consent ; nonverbal), creampie, chan cums inside (use protection ya’ll), monsterfucking! basically lmao

There’s an infinite list of reasons why humans shouldn’t associate with demons. But was it really all that important? Maybe the humans wanted it.

Or, maybe the demons did too.

Maybe, the demons didn’t have a choice.

What a funny thought.

Although, for Christopher Bahng, a demon himself, it was reality.

So the real question stood. Is it the humans that shouldn’t associate with demons, or the other way around?

The thought occurred to Chan at some point, but his head, ringing with the sound of silver coins clattering on glass surfaces, drowned out every ounce of sensibility. Blood, flesh, he was a demon. And right now, he had hell to pay as Lucifer’s underling. No pun intended.

Demons were an ideal choice for bodyguards, too obsessed with their own greed to pay any mind to the consequences, dogs to somebody else’s beckon, minds trained like hunting dogs.

Taking care of the dirty work, for a price.

A price that Chan needed, desperately. Because one thing demons, including himself, love doing is tormenting.

That is until he’s the victim of the tormenting, and all of a sudden the experience doesn’t feel too welcoming.

Raiding his home was an understatement considering they had utterly demolished every inch, not leaving a single fragment remaining in one piece. Granted, he didn’t cry about it. Instead, he lived up to his name, his title.

..Let’s just say he doubted the red stains would ever leave that shirt of his, metallic scent strong enough to make your nose burn.

Unfortunately, Lucifer wasn’t the greatest at forgiving, and he determined rather quickly this was only the start of his problems regardless of how sweetly the demon lord threatened explained he would dissolve Chan into ash if he ever got tired of him.

Alas, two weeks later, he gets a call.

Combing a frustrated hand through raven-colored locks, he holds the phone up to his ear, repeatedly snapping his fingers. The girl kneeled between his legs raises up begrudgingly, wiping her mouth and disappearing into his bathroom.

Well there goes a good blowjob.

Yet, finally, a job was proposed.

Multiple, according to the drone of a fumbling assistant. Jobs comprised of one he’d primarily work and occasional hitman gigs on the side.

Catch? The job was located in the human realm. Not impossible, but not as easy as sleuthing in Hell, where common folk were demons and not big-eyed, nosy, mind-your-damn-business-mortals.

The job in question? Babysitting. Specifically for Lucifer's right-hand man, otherwise known as the Devil’s Plaything. And, despite not being a demon, served Lucifer as if he was one. How cute.

Or as the trauma-induced auditor phrased it, “guarding” some girl.

“Guarding” was something he was mildly familiar with, but never a human. Never in the human realm. So when the suggestion was offered, Chan’s first instinct was to reject—remind Hell’s moderator that he wasn’t just a regular, but a demon of impressive status. A white-eyed demon, who, in fact, ranged most powerful of its kind.

His first instinct was also to punch the man working at the register of this putrid smelling burger joint right in the face, maybe frame his head as a part of a collection while he’s at it. Demons are creative like that.

Because being in this situation, nonetheless currently walking around in the human realm he swore to never step foot in has his stomach jarring.

“Chan, look at this! It’s called K-E-T-C-H-U-P, what a funny name!”

Oh. Yeah. The walking headache, Han Jisung. Forgot he’s here too.

Digging through his pockets for spare change, all he could find was a few meager pennie’s as the obnoxious noise of his demon-companion scarfing down a double cheeseburger had Chan’ jaw progressively tightening.

“Um, sir, that’s not enough to pay for-“ Without hesitation, Chan lifted his upper lip with his index, revealing the sharply pointed canines underneath and effectively silencing the apron-clad employee, frantically printing his receipt without another word.

Yes, apparently there are perks of being a hell-spawn.

Although, the burger still tasted like shit. What a shame.

Heading to the location wasn’t all too difficult, being that it was rather easy locating such an enormous property surrounded by tall, black hinged gates. The passcode… was another story.

Lucifer was likely laughing his ass off watching them try figuring this out.

“Okay, It’s probably like 666 or something- JESUS— you guys scare me sometimes.” Clutching a hand to his erratic heart with panic, a pacing Jisung nearly toppled over as his soon-to-be Boss suddenly appeared out of nowhere, gates slowly opening behind him.

He may not be a Demon, but by how nonchalantly he appeared from thin air, he seemed to gain some attributes over the years.

It didn’t take long for either of them to figure out why the title “Devil’s Plaything” was attached, because the more he toured them around this palace of a house, the more he told of his reasons for hiring them in the first place. Well, more like why Lucifer sent them here.

Easily speaking, his and Jisung’s role would be to protect you at all costs, considering your father’s current predicament (a.k.a coming under investigation for the bodies discovered in Hanuel Park). Not to mention the countless assassins sent on a daily basis, scouring the property for entryways.

Although he’s not surprised by their hesitance. This man, Yoon L/N, was the closest resemblance to the Devil on Earth.

He was terrifying, and coming from a demon, that said a lot.

Chan has to watch his tongue, because he’s not guarding another one of hell’s representatives, a creature of unprecedented rudeness and hatred, he’s guarding a human.

Someone who falls in love and cries, someone who can’t get away with murder when they’re annoyed and go uncharged.

Humans are pitiful. They’re emotional and too trusting and—

You step down the stairs.

They’re pretty and soft and really, really fucking pretty.

The sound of your father clearing his throat rips him from his trance, your trance.

He can practically sense Jisung choking on his laughter.

“Y/n, these are your bodyguards. Bahng, Han, this is Y/n,” He gestures, and Chan notes the gleaming watch on his wrist.

Best guess that thing’s averaging $70,000. Not to mention that this entire house, though naked to the human eye, is laced in traps.

Whether it’s the more hollow wooden plank on the floor that triggers some alarm or the multitude of switches under your kitchen’s island, the security system is certainly intact, and for good reason.

However, you couldn't have made Yoon L/n’s actions look more hypocritical, appearing so opposingly sweet.

“Nice to meet you,” You hold out a hand.

He doesn’t miss the half-smile you give him.

Shit. Don’t look at him like that.

Introducing themselves, you momentarily slip past, and in your stead, your father beckons either of them to the side.

“I’ll only say this once,” Yoon smiles, but it’s a leery smile, one that causes his gums to gradually show, like it’d belong to a murderer, a serial killer of some kind.

Fitting.

“Get her into danger, hurt her, or disobey my orders under any circumstances and I kill you, understood?”

And even though at the snap of a finger Chan could have this man drop dead, he believed him, both simultaneously nodding their heads without complaint.

Meeting eyes with Jisung, a common denominator sits heavy between them, most likely the first thing they’ve whole-heartedly agreed on this entire time.

This is gonna be one hell of a job.

.. .

District 9’s nightclubs are always a bust. If you’re looking for a drink without it being laced you might as well give up, and the only thing that keeps a person from getting swept away in the expansive sea of high heels, go-go boots, and awkward teenagers that miraculously managed to get past the bouncer is a lone, blinking red sign that reads “OUT”.

The first time you ever came here you never thought you’d be so relieved to open a squealing door.

Leaning against the side of the brick building sits the girl responsible for an entourage of drunk-calls and random texts of her location when she sneaks out.

Her moth-eaten sneakers are pulled up to her chest, bleached hair messily arranged into a spiky up-do while she aimlessly scrolls on her phone. Although you know she’s noticed you by now.

“I feel like..” She sighs, black mascara smudged beneath her waterline. “I should’ve taken that Vodka shot.”

You wrinkle your nose, dropping down on her left.

It’s fairly easy conversing with Ha-joon, a girl who didn’t require a reaction or a response, who didn’t talk much but had a whole pocketful of opinions. And you listened.

She swivels her head ever so slightly toward you.

“Do you think drinking a laced shot will make my life more interesting?” Her remark scarily nonchalant, you chuckle, snatching the joint from between her thumb and index and tossing it against the neighboring business’ wall in front of you.

Unfazed, she rises to her feet, pulling a Marlboro pack from her back pocket, palm cupping the lighter’s flickering flame.

“If you count fentanyl as a good time, then sure,” Lifting your chin to cock a sarcastic brow, she rolls her eyes before abruptly snapping her fingers, remembering. The sound ricochets off trash bags stashed at the furthest end of this deserted alleyway.

“You said your Mafia-daddy hired new bodyguards?”

Ah, you forgot you mentioned that.

Don’t mind the “Mafia-daddy” part.

Nodding, there’s a beat of stillness before she lightly nudges your calf with her shoe, Ha-joon’s sign for you to list some sort of detailed description for her to piece together.

This happens every time you meet somebody new. Her little guessing game before the first impression, apparently.

And so you do, spilling information to the best of your capabilities from the fifteen seconds you met them. Their hair, height, eyes (you recall Han’s especially, huge and hypnotizing like black-holes), clothing, and all the details your jumbled brain can pour out to your overly eager, easily bored best friend.

“So this Chan guy..”

One clever glance and you’re already predicting her next words.

“Does he have a big nose?” Smirk growing the darker your cheeks redden, you pathetically groan, burying your face in your hands.

Of course she’s cornered you, because you can’t deny your yes of an answer without evidently lying and digging further into your self-made rabbit hole.

Leave it to Ha-joon to secretly slip the raunchiest sentence you'll hear all night.

Smugness gradually dissipating, the barely-blonde shuffles back down, phone screen displaying countless messages you don't ask about.

Like earlier, Ha-joon doesn’t talk much, but she has a lot to say. Additionally, if she doesn’t bring it up herself, don’t mention it.

Years by her side taught you that.

“They’re only gonna get you in trouble, I have a feeling,” She murmurs prior to taking a long drag of her cigarette, lipstick shade perfectly contrasting with the soaring puff of smoke sifting from her mouth and nose upon exhaling.

She’s always been on the rougher side. Spontaneously rough, the type that would impulsively send you a text she’s going backpacking tomorrow despite an exam scheduled, the type that would continuously run away on a whim.

In essence, everyone on campus has some sort of crush on her (apart from yourself, obviously), whether it comes down to her rumbling persona or how much of a hard-core lesbian she is, you’re not sure.

You click your tongue, glaring at her flippantly.

“And that’s not doing you any better.” Musing in regards to her bad habits, she laughs lowly, low-rise jeans bagging down by her ankles while bending closer.

Your hands brace in anticipation, coughing when she blows a heavy smoke plume right in your face.

You choke a giggle, shoving her senselessly giggling frame.

“The only thing I’m letting do me is that waitress in there,” Painted nails pointing to the entrance while making utterly obscene gestures, you dramatically gag.

Well, until she spins on her heel, fetching a plastic bag holding two bottles of Cass beer from behind a metal trash can.

You tilt your head, the girl wordlessly cracking one open with her teeth and the other using the junction of her shoulder.

‘A Ha-joon thing’, you think as she hands you a glass, chilled exterior sending an unwelcoming wave of shivers throughout your body.

Your initial response is to decline, but her index to your lips shushes your reasons.

“I know you don’t drink often, but just a few sips just this once, please?” Batting invisible puppy-dog eyes, you sigh, gulping down a haphazard swig.

Last time you had genuinely gotten drunk was back in junior year of high school, all the kids swarmed in a rando’s basement, acting appropriately irresponsible for your age.

You recall your fat crush on Hwang Hyunjin (before realizing he was actually in a relationship) being the main component in getting so drunk that you blacked out, though you’re sure the highly unflattering pictures Ha-joon took would jog your memory.

Yet just a few sips was an understatement, something you should’ve known. Because conversation turns into more conversation, funny conversation, deep conversation while your wrist unconsciously lifts to your mouth till your friend transforms into nothing but a blurry figure illuminated by the moon.

And you wonder, as you feel yourself tilt further and further toward the cement below, if Ha-joon will snap unflattering pictures of this moment too, of stupid decisions leading to stupid consequences.

Most likely.

.. .

"Mmm." You mumble, face stuffed into his sleeve as Chan carries you from the alleyway, ushering a loopy Ha-joon into a taxi with a short bow.

Clad in his work attire primarily made up of black elements, he carefully places you in the back seat of the SUV and pulls off his dark coat to wrap around your body, ensuring you're fully swaddled to secure as much warmth as possible from the biting cold.

"We're going home, so hang on just a bit longer for me." The man assures, patting your head lightly before sliding into the driver's seat and pressing his foot to the gas.

Han, who was sitting in the back beside you while Chan drove, took experimental peeks at the pink-hue decorating your cheeks (evidence that you'd be drunk) to your puffy lips pursed in a pout.

He internally squeals, fiddling with his phone in his pocket, unveiled demon tail practically wagging with glee.

"Hyung, can I? Pleasee Hyung- just one photo she looks so cute–“

“No." The older of them responds sternly, one hand clutching the steering wheel.

As much as he normally wouldn’t care, this was his- their first actual order in fulfilling their duties, and Chan wasn’t willing to pay the price of fucking up Yoon’s guidelines.

His companion huffs, deflating by your side as he directs a childish frown at Chan in the mirror, only met with an equally stern gaze reading "no nonsense".

Chan had always been one to take his job seriously, not that Han didn't, he just liked having a little bit of fun jumping from side to side across those permanent marker drawn lines.

In actuality, if it weren't for his friend, Han would've never gotten the job in the first place.

Stark glowing of your houses’ lights lining the driveway ripped away his thought process, quickly intervening when your door opened.

"I can carry her," He claims, arms crossed while the older bodyguard simply cocks a brow, an action that shouldn't have Jisung shying away like he was.

There's an immense staring contest until Chan releases a hefty sigh, gesturing for Jisung to go ahead.

"If you drop her, I kill you, then myself."

This earns a giggle while Han unbuckles your seatbelt, softly cooing with you lying in his arms.

You're cute, very cute in fact.

Very off limits, in fact, he reminds himself, grip tightening the creepier he pictures your father—and it’s the adorable scrunch of your nose in discomfort that reminds him of his strength, immediately relaxing his hold.

Like Chan said, any wrong moves and they're both off the radar in seconds. Business.

The entirety of it all was a bit hilarious considering how things were when you'd first been introduced to the two, not appearing to be the type to get drunk like this, to get drunk at all in a secluded area next to some nightclub.

Chan wasn’t wrong when he said it’s always a surprise with clients.

Well, he was referring to his hitman job then, but it's still applicable in this situation, right?

…Right?

Forget it.

Slowly, oh so slowly your eyes peel open, instantly noticing the familiar smell and interior that definitely wasn't where you'd been five minutes ago with Ha-joon.

Ah. There he is.

Chan.

Peering over where you're tucked in bed, dressed in pajamas.

Hold on, pajamas?

Scrambling up and simultaneously wincing from the throbbing headache settling a dull ring in your ears, you send him an incredulous stare, face incessantly warming the longer you think about it.

Hangovers provide another of the many reasons why you don’t drink anymore, because this hellish predicament led to a single hellish explanation you certainly didn’t want to face.

"You... My clothes.." Stumbling over how to phrase it, you suppress a scowl watching the ghost of a grin make its way on his lips. Maybe you're imagining it.

One of his veiny hands reaches up to cover his eyes, leaving you to instead infatuate upon plush lips moving when he speaks.

"My job description, along with the papers you read and signed before I was hired gave me consent, but whatever I see is strictly confidential between you and I."

Gathering your sanity, you scoff, humiliation and embarrassment flooding your system at an alarming rate.

Flopping back onto the bed, you slam a pillow over your face, muttering a "strictly confidential my ass" that he had to have heard from the low laugh uttered in reply.

He stalks over, fingertip tapping the water you hadn’t noticed sitting atop your nightstand.

Cautiously stealing a glimpse out from your pillow to see where he distanced himself across the room, you finish the cup in a swift motion, wiping your mouth with the back of your sleeve.

“You huma- You aren’t good with your alcohol, are you?” He starts, quite entertained witnessing your annoyed gaze, one which very noticeably doesn’t stay focused on his eyes.

Sucking your teeth, you slouch, mirroring his crossed arms.

You’re fine with playing feisty, and by the awfully attractive way he’s cocking his head, he’s also willing to join this biting game.

“And what makes you think that?”

“Because I’m never passed out and in need of someone to call for me when I go drinking.”

At this you practically hiss, grasping any futile chance to retaliate to no avail.

Opposed to his teasing nature, he drags a stool to your bedside, insisting you drink more.

Even more opposing, a gentle hand presses to your forehead, checking that you haven't contracted a fever.

To say your heartbeat pounded didn’t credit the surprise to its full extent, and thank whatever God above the experience only lasted a few more seconds, giving you plenty of time to freshen your haywire sensibility and brush your teeth before any more soul-sucking Chan run-ins continued.

You should’ve known better than to think he’d truly leave you be though, said soul-sucking bodyguard currently propped against the bathroom’s door frame.

“How did you get into this anyway? Y’know, bodyguard stuff..” You begin to ask, voice muffled from the toothbrush deterring any fully audible sentence.

He cocks an eyebrow.

“I have my ways.”

“Your ways?”

Within split seconds he’s right next to you, making rather intentional eye contact through the mirror.

You inhale sharply.

“Look, sweetness, my job as your bodyguard is to keep you safe,” He pokes his tongue into his cheek. “And if I tell you, I can’t guarantee that.”

There are three things you realized in that moment.

One, Chan is so, so close.

Two, he has an unfairly gorgeous face.

And three, your mouth is smeared with toothpaste.

Great.

You’d like to admit the first night of meeting these new bodyguards, more specifically Chan, went as normal and as non-Ha-joon-influenced as possible, but this effect on you causing your bloodstream to erupt in a hormonal frenzy of attraction told you the story had just begun.

.. .

"Jisung. Hold. Still! Keep moving and this wand is going in your eyeball."

Three weeks in and one thing after another has lead you closer and closer with either of them, whether it's convincing Jisung to go on ice cream runs (where Chan always ends up tagging along) or attempting to remain focused while they help you study (more like trying not to laugh at Jisung and averting your eyes off of Chan’s biceps in that muscle-shirt of his), the three of you are practically conjoined at the hip, and not on bodyguard standards.

"Okay okay! I was itchy. Can you move the piece of hair by my eyebrow?" He whines, grasping an apologetic squeeze on your waist while you focus in his lap.

You’re currently brushing mascara through his unfairly long lashes, but if anyone saw this without knowing the situation, chaos would likely unfold.

Although for you and Jisung, it's your average Friday night spent watching the weekly scary movie he’d decided on, Insidious. One he’d been commenting on for the past thirty minutes or so about how the “representation of demon’s was wrong” while you absentmindedly agreed, looping your index around the strand before abruptly stopping.

Residing slightly above his temple lay a scar, a decently sized scar at that.

Strangely enough, it's circular, like some type of horn or something had been there at some point. Maybe a biking incident?

"Ji?”

The boy's eyes drift up to you.

"What's this scar?"

Below you, he freezes, frantically thinking up the best excuse.

Lots of options, not a lot of time to decide.

"Ah.. that? When I was younger, I developed a weird kind of bump there, 'had it removed." And thankfully, you grunt a response, resorting back to applying his makeup.

Truth be told, those scars (another you hadn't seen yet) were his old horns, forced to be removed in order to initially land this job.

It still sends shivers down his spine thinking about when they had first been cut off, the recovery process resembling something out of nightmares.

Trust, the headaches were awful.

Chan, on the other hand, could keep his, considering he had the ability to conceal them on command. For Jisung, an inferior red-eyed demon with a few years beneath him and in such desperate need for income, chose the painful way through. As for his tail, that was luckily simple to hide (much to his pleasure).

Nevertheless, you could confidently say that your test-subject could easily land a modeling career after your makeover, and by the way he kept staring at the mirror, he seemed equally as enamored as you.

Well, that’s before a jumpscare leaps upon the screen and either of you shoot up, your clumsy companion whacking himself in the face with the mirror.

Staving your giggles, you try soothing the boy; you really do, but the uncannily gory scene that decorates the screen has you cringing back, and when you look at Jisung, expecting to find him cowering, your blood runs cold.

His lips are parted, but the only thing your horrified eyes are drawn to are the hooked canines peeking there. Not to mention his eyes.

Ghastly crimson, glowing.

Except when you breathe in an unsteady gasp, his head snaps to you, sudden facade appearing unaltered, like you hadn't seen something borderline terrifying.

Softly pulling your face close to him despite the screaming instinct to flee, he observes your bewildered expression, brows taut with concern.

“Y/n?”

Sweet tone contradicting, you immediately double backward toward your bedroom door, awkwardly honing the “I’m going to bed” excuse in hopes that suffices for the night.

Frenziedly closing the door, you determine rather quickly you don’t plan to go to sleep. Not that you think you could, but because this discovery isn’t normal.

None of this is normal.

How they found your location back at the alley despite Ha-joon never contacting anyone, how you “coincidentally” walked in on Chan “washing” his hands despite the water running red. Oh and you can’t forget about the rag left behind, putrid stench characteristic to a specific substance.

Blood.

You weren’t stupid. No father disappears the majority of the year on so-called “business trips” only to come back with new cuts and scratches he makes a sorry effort denying, and no daughter of his has literal bodyguards (yet you’re not sure they’re even official bodyguards thanks to your suspicions) glued to her side 24/7.

He does something dangerous, you know without doubt. But according to this hunch of yours, your father may not be the only one tied up in illegal madness.

.. .

Slipping into the car unknown to them was far easier than you anticipated.

You didn't plan on sneaking in in the first place, sure, but upon overhearing their hushed conversation regarding some type of “target”, you assumed whatever topic they were discussing may answer a select few of your billions of burning questions.

So, crouched in the floorboard of the backseat, you try muting your breathing, noting the clutter of metal sounding from your left, whatever responsible assumed to be shoved in the trunk.

Weapons. No mistaking it.

Your discovery is short-lived however, and you flatten yourself the best you can as Han twists around in his seat to grab something, already thirty minutes into your nearly secret mission.

Shit.

His shocked scream tells you enough.

Chan is fuming.

"Jisung, you told me she was asleep. So care to explain why the fuck she's in the back of the car?"

Han frantically flails. "For the record I told you she was lying down–”

"I. Don't. Care! She's not supposed to be here and all that matters right now is that she's at home and in bed, understood?"

As Jisung's lips pull into a tight line and Chan cranks the gear shift into drive, you glance around, a sudden–though risky–idea coming to mind.

"Hey, I could always tag along?"

"No!" They both shout in unison, heads jerking back to face you as if you suggested driving off a cliff.

That sounded much better in your head anyway.

Well there goes that.

Or so you thought.

Because unfortunately for them, wherever needed them needed them urgently, and through many clearly vocalized “she is staying in the car”’s, you weren’t driven home after all.

Fluorescent green lights cast an eerie glow across the perimeter, the location gnawing at your gut. An equestrian center by exterior, though there’s something else.

Wrong. You can’t explain it, but this place is wrong.

Discreetly unloading the guns, you skin crawls observing Chan messily stuff bullets into the magazine of a M240, the mere size of the thing setting your nerves ablaze. And as rightful asking questions seems, you can’t.

That feeling from earlier glues your mouth shut, like if you spoke too loudly, someone, something, would find you.

Thick foliage lay highlighted by your headlights, paving depth into sequential darkness.

You squint, zoning in on a small expanse of branches ajar. An ideal hiding spot.

Wait.

Bright flashes of iron spur your legs into motion, the switchblade cleaning slicing your wrist while mid-duck.

It forks into the car’s interior where the trunk had been opened, your cry of pain muffled by Jisung who basically throws himself inside a stall with you, the stomping of horse’s hooves muting your ragged breathing.

Firing belonging to none other than the machine gun Chan had been wielding pierces the air outside as either of you stay pressed to the stable wall, the pad of footsteps drawing nearer, causing your eyes to squeeze shut.

This is it. You’re going to die.

Much to your relief, it’s Chan, tactical holsters slightly torn, sweat beading his forehead.

The two share a look, remaining silent before delivering an eventual, affirming nod.

Short-lived.

An additional attacker sifts from the shadows, facial expression ushering no other logic than to kill.

Manic eyes, estranged eyes.

The older bodyguard spins, successfully blocking the first hit. Supplies are scattered everywhere, horses beginning to shift uncomfortably.

The perpetrator is faster, smaller, and lands a decent punch into his abdomen. However, the attack is futile, and just before he can stake his knife into Chan’s leg does the bigger man utilize his own weapon, ammunition positively bludgeoning every square inch of the assailant in baited seconds.

You understand why machine guns are strictly used for long range now.

Immediately, soft numbness floods your senses due to Han’s hands covering your eyes and ears, and you sit there for a while, blocked from the grotesque view of impalpable violence being enacted right before you.

You’d forgotten you were huddled together on the other side of the wall, too horrifically immersed.

It's strange. So much is strange.

These two men that you've grown effortlessly close to, grown effortlessly friends with, murder. Defensively in this case, yes, but they hadn’t brought those guns by chance, they brought them by intention.

Not just a twisted hobby like dissecting animals or something along those lines, but murder.

You’re sure they have their reasons, but it's difficult even imagining it. People who are extremely gentle when with you, responsible for such doings.

Talk about a duality.

The faint clatter of gun shells rattling against the marble flooring earns a subtle flinch, Jisung's hands cupping closer to your skin.

Then you smell it, what he'd warned you of no matter the cleanliness of the job.

A metallic, burning scent of blood, causing your nose to burn and your throat to grow increasingly dry.

Your stomach churns.

"You don't forget that smell" Chan had said before leaving the vehicle, and you knew what he was referring to now.

Putrid reek of rot and gunpowder beckon your lungs into fight or flight, but you remain still, ignoring the sharp sting of your wrist, bubbling blood dripping down your arm and onto the floor below, right atop your shoe.

Faint falling of bullet shells put an end to the fighting, then you’re blindly directed out the door without so much as a glance behind you. For your own good, you assume.

Hell, you’re not certain they’ll be much left of the bodies after Chan’s wrath.

As for right now, your top priority is your wrist. Swollen, skin tainted a grueling red shade.

Speeding home, you find yourself blurily recalling events, though all the little details simply swirl into strange shapes.

Shock is what it’s called. That state of monotonous wandering, occurrence too unfamiliar to take in, senses turning off. A coping mechanism of some sort.

Blearily you see the two men, talking, stepping out of the room, grabbing medical supplies. Like you’re in a time warp, dreaming. No pain, hurt.

On the other hand, your bodyguards were frantic, spewing curses and scouring the household for proper first aid materials.

Meanwhile, Chan was finally wrapping your wound in the bandages Jisung spotted, blinking madly in hopes his fogging headspace eased up.

Demons and wounds were not a good combination. Especially not human wounds.

Uncontrollable urges instructed him to tear you apart right this minute, do something, anything to quench that inexplicably demanding thirst.

Vulnerable, easy prey. His thoughts chanted, forcing him to step out of the room for a moment to where Jisung perched, close-pin fastened on his nose to block the mouth-watering smell.

“I’m losing my fucking mind,” He heaves, carding stressed fingers through matted hair.

“What, a little blood getting to a white-eyed demon?” His companion muses, hastily dodging Chan’s swinging fist. Immune to his threats.

It’s obvious to Jisung that’s only half of the story, but he’ll wait for his superior to admit it himself.

“It’s not just the blood,” He inhales deeply, gratefully accepting the water Han offered. “It’s her.”

Go figure.

To be honest, Jisung wasn’t good at pretending.

Well, in terms of lying he was a natural (a given, after all), but pretending he hadn’t caught onto his friend’s enormous attraction to you was technically impossible.

Quite surprising though, to think such an arrogant demon would’ve ended up like this.

Susceptible, willing. For a human.

Who would’ve thought.

.. .

It’s nothing short of a roller coaster regaining your stable consciousness. Chest wracking, world spinning. You’re situated in bed, injury carefully wrapped(though you can’t recall by who).

The doorknob rattles, and in walks Chan, except, you don’t feel happy, relieved.

Scared. You feel extremely scared.

“What- What are you?” Waver revealing your anxiousness, you curse the subtle tremble.

He smiles.

“Aren’t you a perceptive little one,” His voice dips lower, and as he edges closer, you find yourself pressing further into the pillow behind your head.

“I’m sure you’ve had your suspicions, so I’ll make it easy for you.” He lifts his curls, two perfectly placed horns residing there.

“We’re demons. He and I are different species, but both demons.”

Demons.

Demons.

Instantaneously, a tidal wave or realization crashes salty water into your lungs, expertly piecing your observations together. Red eyes, horn-like scars.

How had you not caught on earlier?

Momentarily, you meet his eyes. Still brown, although you wonder how deep of a red they’d stain, glaze over stunning vermillion or dusky cinnamon tones.

“Species?”

He hums.

“Red-eyed are the best at persuasion, that’s Jisung. I’m a white-eyed demon.”

So neither crimson nor cinnamon, you decide. Perhaps pale, opal color.

“White-eyed demons are usually Satan’s lap dogs, but what lots of people don’t know,” You crane forward to hear his next words, and he leans in as well. “Is that we’re also the most desired species, the most lustful.”

Lustful.

The words don’t truly sink in, and by the time they do, it’s impossible to rip the mischievous look from his eyes.

"What’s that supposed to mean.." You grumble, avoid his darkening stare.

A subtle tap on your thigh has your attention immediately shfiting, your entire body instinctively jolting.

"You want me to show you?" He begins with a laugh, a low, husky laugh that has your stomach tying knots. Not the usual, squeaky laugh, but one that's different, very different. "But if you say yes, I’m sure no one else can satisfy you the way I can."

Your expression pinches with annoyance, a bit offed by his sudden cockiness.

Granted, he looks heaven-sent despite being a demon, and you doubt he'd be any different in bed, but c'mon now, you have a right to be suspicious.

"And how're you so sure of that?" Leaning back on your arms where he sits in front of you, you fixate on the way kinky locks perfectly line the crown of his head, one particularly messy strand tipping over to linger above chocolate pools for eyes.

"Sweetness, Jisung are I are carved out of sin, there's not a particle in our body not built to fuck."

God. Hearing "fuck" come out of his mouth shouldn't have been that attractive. Chan had always been well-mannered, well-spoken, so to hear him say something vulgar for the first time, nonetheless "fuck", effected you more than you'd like to admit.

Slowly, oh so slowly he crawls on the bed, kind tip of his head betraying sinful intent.

“You want this?” He whispers, and your arms immediately wrap around his neck, tugging him into your lips fervently, needily, with a short nod of approval between sighs and stifled groans.

Your wrist aches, but from how heated this kiss is becoming, that matter is the least of your problems.

He feels like fire, tastes like it, nectarine on your tongue.

You waste nimble time undressing, suppressing a high-pitched mewl the longer he sucks deep purple love bites into your neck and down your collarbones, likely to be bruised tomorrow.

He’s careful, learning your body, your sounds. Touch light as a feather, not enough.

He’s big, that’s a given. Head red and angry with thick beads of precum apparent, you can’t possibly think straight, his name the only sensible word falling off your swollen lips.

Chan Chan Chan.

Brows knitting as his fat head bumps your entrance, you murmur pleas, practically delusional on his pleasure, his love.

Most desired, you understand what he meant by that.

“Feel good? Yeah? That's a good girl."

You can feel your entire body keen at the praise, utterly blissful from how amazing he was making you feel.

The stretch of his fat cock has your common-sense threading dangerously thin, head falling back, fingernails raking his back. Delirious.

When he actually started moving? Yeah, you’re convinced you paid a visit to cloud nine, fucked-out brain recognizing only the squelch of your bodies connecting and the squeaky, absolutely desperate sounds he’s pulling from your throat.

Not to mention his voice, accent thickening tremendously the longer he ruined your drooling cunt.

His, his, his.

"Shit- you feel fuckin' divine," He kissed the sweaty skin of your calf hiked over his shoulder, ankle held by a strong hand while the other occupied your hip, squeezing and kneading with each heavy thrust.

Chan wasn't lying about being carved out of sin, fucking like an absolute animal to the point tears began welling in your eyes, overstimulated and euphoric beyond belief as your hands shakily reach upward.

Obediently, he lowers himself, letting you hold his face for some sense of security while feeling so vulnerable.

You pathetically search his eyes, head thrown back after one particular roll of his hips that earns a rumbling moan from the man.

Each time he bottoms out it feels like you're losing it, rubbing that gummy spot that makes your heels dig into his shoulders and your moans transform into high-pitched cries, shuddering.

"Channie- Oh fuck Channie- I can't It's too much-"

Practically gasping for air to ease the buzzing fuzziness blinding you, you cherish the equally mind-numbing kiss he soothes, pressure in your lower tummy building and building at a flying pace.

"Yes you can, bunny. 'Need to cum? C'mon, cum for me, 'atta girl." He tuts, slowing himself down with each squeeze of your cunt signaling your approaching release.

Torturous.

Nothing like this, never in all his life had he felt something like this. So delicate and fragile as you look up at him, glossy dolly eyes far too tempting.

At this point it was an obligation to stuff your pussy full.

Rolling your puffy nub in tight circles, your thighs twitch, gripping the pillow behind your head like a vice as the sharp knot in your stomach finally snaps and a near pornographic sound rips from your throat, back arching off the bed.

The sight of you has his eyes nearly rolling back, so ruined and angel-like. You're a white rose in a field of wilting grasses. Bloomed in his ill-fated fingertips.

His pants stifle, big hands holding the back of your thighs spread for him. His pace stutters, and with a gritted whine of your name he slams his hips, painting your aching cunt white.

The last thing he anticipated visiting the human realm was to find himself in this situation.

And whether he liked to admit it or not, if the Devil had your father wrapped around his finger, you had him tied up without a chance of escape.

So while you both scrambled to clean up your evidence and not fall over your own feet hearing Jisung clumsily drop a clattering frying pan in the kitchen, he thinks, if only for a second, he’d be okay with it.

Being yours, that is.

FIC TAGLIST. @y-ur--i @atinism @darknova2319 @producedbyhanjisung @knightoftime21 @leonswifesstuff

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[galactic-rhea]

how do you think anakin (or your anakin) would take clovis? i found those episodes to be really ooc😭

Oh boy, I knew this day would come,,,the day in which someone asked me about these awful episodes, thanks user @songspirits now this conversation won't have to wait any longer NKLJnjfdf

To quote a friend of mine that only watched the movies when I told her the summary of the Clovis arc: "I think Anakin would've asked padme to held her wig instead while she personally goes to fight that guy, the anakin i know at least"

Jokes aside, I'll have to break this down on a few points because there's just,,,a lot going on in these episodes (to be clear I don't intend to change anyone's mind in the matter, since i already know many ppl believe these episodes to be good for anakin's ehh,,,going-evil characterization). This will get long.

So first of all: The very first episode where Clovis shows up is just alright, could've been done much better but seriously I don't have many issues with it.

The problem arises with the new ones in season 6. The why I feel Anakin is out character in these episodes is because his very, very well known and yet somehow missinterpreted flaw is that he reacts with extreme violence, especially when scared, scared not for himself but for someone he cares about.

So him reacting badly and going directly for a bloody fistfight against Clovis wasn't the problem of the episodes. It was how he treated Padmé. Like, literally telling her he would leave her in jail if she kept mentioning Clovis, lmao. Also the "You have no say on this" yadayada. I think the writer for these episodes was probably taking their confrontation at Mustafar as a reference point, which...No, that shouldn't have been the case bc in Mustafar that guy literally turned evil (literally!) and he had lost touch with reality. And also the stakes were higher. And also his anger was completely different there.

But, at the same time, if I play the devil's advocate, I can see some...eh, explanations there. For example he had recently lost Ahsoka and one of his men, the War was on the third year, and Padmé was decidely working with someone that already almost got her killed once, and she wasn't listening to him. They didn't even actually discussed the situation very well. And when Anakin says that "as your husband, I ask-" he turns around and is completelly unable to look at her in the eyes, so it could very well be that not even himself believed that, he was mostly throwing onto the table every single card he had. And one could argue that there's no way he didn't hear/notice/sense/ whatever that Padmé wasn't okay with that kiss.

But even then, the writers were clearly going for your very average possesive-sexist-angry-jealous- boyfriend, which isn't Anakin's problem, like I said, his problem is how deeply scared he is of Padmé being hurt. So Anakin's main concern shouldn't be that he's being cheated on, but that Padmé could be hurt, and they kinda touched on that but they failed at portraying that well, and I think it's because:

a) This episode shows us an extremelly common trope in shows with many episodes and many one-time-plots: The classic add-another-person-so-main-character-gets-jealous-. And almost always this type of episode gets us very ooc characterizations, no matter the show, because this society usually can't see any other reaction that isn't angry-possesive-violent jealousy. He also treats Padmé quite badly even before she decides to keep working with him, which is a no-no for me.

b) The shows forgets that Anakin does, actually, has a lot of faith and trust in Padmé's abilities. Yes, he worries, a lot, but he still is very confident on her being a more than capable person. He doesn't want to keep her in a cage or something, part of the reason he's so in love with her is because of how capable and intelligent she is. In ROTS is different because he quite literally had a prophetic vision that proved to be true before, and there's very little to do in this case, it had nothing to do with abilities or someone else. Also, if AOTC tells me anything, is that they're fairly talktative aka they communicate fairly well. Even in previous episodes we see that Padmé is great at communicating and discussing (look at how she reassured Ahsoka when Ahsoka was worried about her. Or that little bit where she's concerned about a party.); in this episode there was none of that until after Anakin almost kills a guy.

c) I think they simply, and flatly, just wanted to show Anakin being dangerous and darker and have Padmé concerned and all of that. And what better way to show a man becoming evil than being a jealous boyfriend. Isn't like Anakin has already murdered a lot of people, amirite. This is a bit of a problem with the simplification of a character. If they're bad or becoming evil, they also surely must be hyper jealous and possesive, there's no other way.

TO SUMMARIZE: I don't think Anakin was handled well, at all. Because the episodes were rellying on a very basic trope, which needed them to break the characters to fit the cookie cutter. However I can see some attempt at deepness there. It's like if it was the characters pretending to be more cartoonized version of themselves, if you know what I mean.

HOWEVER,,,,that said, the biggest sin for me isn't Anakin being OOC...IS HOW PADMÉ WAS TREATED.

They seriously had to put her into a sexual harassament plot, only for it all to be about how Anakin is evil (tm), and not have her respond at all? They really had her to put up with a creepy rapey dude just because.....What is even the narrative trying to tell us at all, that Anakin was actually was actually right, but overreacted? The plot is so contrived, Lmao.

She was the one that got harassed and yet she had no say on it, she's extremelly passive in the whole arc (which we all already know isn't Padmé's personality, even Anakin tends to follow the narrative in more passive way than she does). Then they also had to have her on the trope of "If a woman is going to be a spy, then she must use all her goods and being a femme fatale", and then they didn't even made her fatale. They could AT LEAST give us a moment of her reflecting about having been lowkey assaulted? No? Huh,okay.

Also, Padmé is actually very good at, let's say, handling Anakin. Or more like, reassuring him/discussing stuff with him, and I say this because of bits of the novels I have seen. She's more self-assured and confident, and experienced with social stuff, she's definitely not naive, and can stand her ground fairly easily, and she knew what type of guy was Clovis, so yeah, it's just...she was badly written here, she lost almost all of her agency. I'm not saying it was her fault or anything, or that it was her responsability to calm down her clown of a husband, but it goes against what we know Padmé is like.

Also apparently throwing himself onto the void was Clovis' apology for...almost getting her killed several times, kissing her without consent, being a creep and also using her as hostage. You know, so he's more of a deep character, I guess.

The good points for this arc though, are:

° Ol' Sheev doing what Sheev does best, and actually having some interesting stuff going on, they should've focused on that.

° They (miraculously) remembered a bit of Anakin's and Padmé's actual personalities, and when she told him to back off and that she needed a time, he accepted her desires to leave her alone and looked like a sad wet cat, like Anakin tends to look like. Also thank god they had Padmé's behaviour being nothing like the one of what you would expect from a victim of abusive relationships (Anakin was making his ooc scene and she just looked like 'bitch,what the hell has gotten into you', she had the audience's response, which is 'anakin? what?', which at least tells us this isn't Anakin's normal behaviour at all, i guess?)

° Obi-Wan and Anakin talking a little bit. Also Anakin's room had a poster of the Boonta's Eve race, he also had a little ship-toy, showing us that Luke really takes after his father, lol.

°...Idk what else to highlight from these episodes 😭😂 Did I already say Sheev's scheming? Uhhhh,well, uhh, idk, Padmé taking Clovis to the opera in an attempt to get info from him is kinda ...Ironic.

[dinosaursatemymom]

Ramblings about Harusono's works and like friendships and intimacy because I can

I put this under a cut cause it got so much longer than I intended😭

So like I seen some people point out the like weird almost pre romance vibes between sasaki and Hirano. Like I was thinking maybe this just comes from Harusono not being very good at writing friendship and the desire to be closer and admiration without making it seem romantic😭. Because like Butai ni Sake it's about theatre and coming out of your shell and friendship and it's cute and great but then there's like THIS

(these are just some examples there's more though)

AND IT'S LIKE WEIRD cause like it FEELS romantic but it's NOT. It's not meant to be romantic. Butai ni Sake is not a bl and it's not a romance. So then WHY IS IT SO DAMN ROMANTIC?? I feel like this comes from in part due to Harusono's artstyle which is flowery and pretty and light and soft and makes everything a little bit more romantic and the way she draws characters looking at each other with just like pure LOVE in their eyes and even though it's platonic or is not meant to be romantic, it just FEELS so just intimate and romantic.

And it's like this beautiful intimacy of the friendships, Maki and all of Asahi's middle school friends trying to get into the same high school as him because they miss him even though he went ghost, and Asahi and Imari wanting to act together forever and in the future choosing to make a theatre troupe, and Botan just KNOWING all of her friends so so well, the entire theatre club traveling to give Asahi a ride to school so he would be comfortable, Tsumugi and Imari being childhood friends and knowing each other so well that even when Tsumugi says he hates Imari he still wants him around (they need to be studied I swear), Asahi's middle school friends going to see him in the play and being so happy he's doing well despite his changes. These are all just beautiful moments of friendship but like when Harusono writes and draws it, it FEELS more intimate than friendship. It's like these are moments of friendship but the way they are portrayed is just woah.

Anyway back to sasahira lmao😭😭 the whole like thing in the stairwell from the light novel, it IS romantic framing and it's weird cause this is a friendship and they recently met and it shouldn't be as intimate as it feels but it is. ALSO it reminds me of the first chapter in Adachi to Shimamura. Also I feel like we don't talk enough about how like Kagi and Sasaki are kinda similar but also very different but like not that much, but Sasaki isn't Kagi and Hirano isn't Miyano which is exactly why their relationship isn't romantic because they're THEM. (does that even make sense lmao 😭)

BUT LIKE ALSO she does know how to write friendships without them seeming romantic or weirdly intimate because we see that in Butai ni Sake and Sasaki to Miyano, the friendships between Miyano and Tashiro Shirahama and Kuresawa, Botan and Asahi, Ogasawara and Sasaki, Hanzawa and everyone😭, the art club director and Asahi.

And it's now it's like really weird because we have these friendships that don't seem strangely Intimate or romantic and it's like, so maybe that is intentional? And it's like WHY THOUGH?? Or maybe it's not intentional and it's just a result of misinterpretation? I'M LOSING IT OH MY GOSH😭

Okay that's it for now thanks for sticking around to read it if you made it this far, I would love to hear otter people's thoughts☺️

[luaspersona]

All Night│knj (m)

pairing ↠ namjoon x reader (f. reader) genre ↠ college!au; brother’s best friend!au; strangers to lovers; smut; one-shot summary ↠ when your brother bails on you, you have to find another way to entertain yourself for the night and Kim Namjoon just so happens to be a great company. rating ↠ +18 warnings ↠ alcohol consumption; flirting; sexual tension; the reader and Namjoon are shameless; explicit smut: consent king!Namjoon, a bit of thigh riding, nipple play, fingering, oral (f. and brief m. receiving), spit kink, dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, marking, light choking, begging, protected sex, multiple orgasms, cumshot, cum eating word count ↠ 12k (yeah, well. what can i say 💀) estimated reading time ↠ 30 minutes notes ↠ ok, so. i know i said i would upload this yesterday, but i got caught up with work and wasn't able to edit it one last time like i intended, and i hope it's ok that i'm dropping it now instead 🥺 note² ↠ also, this took so much longer than it should have, and it’s huge 😭 i’m so sorry y’all, but i swear it’s pure filth, the smut is just ridiculously long bc i don’t have any ounce of self control lmao 🫣 note³ ↠ ok, i'll let you get to it, now 🥰 crossposted ↠ read on ao3

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As the good sister you are, you hate Jimin most of the time.

The sparse moments in which you feel love for your brother are the only downside of going long enough without seeing him, because you start to forget why Jimin studying on the other side of the country is actually crucial for your relationship. Recently, for example, you've been missing him, and that's not something you can just let happen.

So, when your boss sent you to Seoul to attend a handful of meetings during the week, you took the opportunity to meet up with your brother for the first time since he got into college and make new oh-so-sweet memories with Jimin so you can go on with not missing him for another semester or so.

The club he chose is far from the hotel your company paid for, but it's been a minute since you last toured Seoul's alluring night, so you decide to walk. You spot the large mono. neon sign Jimin described around thirty minutes later, and you quickly step out of the chilly night into the club's cozy interior.

You fish for your phone inside your purse, messaging a simple im here to your brother before finding your way to the bar. You hop onto one of the empty stools, smoothing the fabric of your pants and adjusting your cute top that is slightly hiked up from your walking.

You order a beer to start the night, and with its bitterness coating your tongue, you turn around to take in the environment. You have to admit Jimin was right about this place. Although really crowded, it feels comfortable; the dim lightning casting a cozy veil over the bodies pressed together on the dance floor, the playlist good and loud enough to soothe any thoughts that might threaten a good night out.

[10:31] baby j 😗: on my way

Upon reading his response, you can't contain the large smile that betrays your anxiety. It finally hits you how long it has been since you last saw your brother. You don't even know what color his hair is now, how he's enjoying his first semester, if he found another apartment, if he got that job he told you about last month.

Aren't you supposed to know these things? God, you're a terrible older sister.

“Hey! What's up, noona?” A deep voice calls beside you, startling you a bit.

You turn, catching sight of a tall man greeting the bartender before he slides onto the stool next to yours.

After you take a quick look at him, you find yourself blinking back a couple times, simply unable to divert your attention: you've never seen such a fine man in your life.

As he leans over the counter, his broad torso is evident even through his shirt, large shoulders making him seem way too big for that stool. And his thighs?! Those thick — thick — thighs. You could die a happy woman between them, almost drooling when he spreads his legs to make himself comfortable.

“I'll just have the usual!” He orders, prompting a nod in response.

You know you're ogling, but fuck if this man isn't just perfect.

He pushes his hair back, long fingers tangling in his black locks in an failed attempt to clear the strands off his eyes, but in a successful endeavor to make you suck in a breath. Your attention falls to his lips — plump rosy lips that shine once he wets them with the tip of his tongue.

You tilt up, finding his dark almond-shaped eyes — piercing back directly at you.

You tense a little under his scrutiny, but you don't turn away, holding his gaze as you sip your beer.

“You know it's rude to stare, right?” He teases, making you smile immediately. 

Thing is: you are a Park, so flirting was like second nature to you. There's no scenario in which you dismiss this perfect lead he just gave you.

Besides, Jimin tends to be late, right? Yeah, he said he was on his way, sure, but who knows if he won't go to his place to freshen up before coming to meet you or something — what could be so bad about entertaining this beautiful man by your side?

“Oh, I'm sorry. You’re gorgeous, so it’s easy to get distracted.” He snickers, not expecting your response but definitely enjoying it. “But it's ok, I’ll let you stare back so we're even. Here, let me make it easier for you.”

You wiggle your body so you're facing him, closing your eyes playfully.

But he keeps his eyes locked in your face, as he's already regarded you before making his way to the bar. He noticed you when you approached the stool. He noticed the way your pants hug your legs just well enough for him to be able to delineate your figure. He noticed how really fucking cute your top is, loving how it bares the skin of your neck for him to picture how nice it would be to taint the soft flesh. 

You are hot, and Namjoon is a practical man, so he was already trying to read you, maybe wait a bit to see if you came with someone, if your body language was inviting or reclusive.

What eventually pushed him to come over was the way your face lit up when you smiled at your phone and he found himself grinning in response.

So now, even with your eyes shut, and your body closer for him to shamelessly gawk at, it's your smile that he's focused on.

“So?” You open your eyes again.

He cocks his head, regarding you.

“I like your earrings.” He taunts, and you scoff in feigned offense.

“That's your review?”

The bartender shows up again, placing a bottle of soju and a single glass in front of the man, who pours a dose for himself before drinking it.

He looks at you, all pretty and pouty, and grins before he's leaning in.

“I think I’d like to paint you, princess.” When did his voice become so husky? “Is that something you'd be interested in?”

This close, he catches the goosebumps that crawl up your arms, but your reply is unaffected.

“Well, how good of a painter are you, baby?” 

You can feel his hot breath fanning your jaw.

“I'd say I'm really good, but it really depends on you.”

“What about me.”

He shifts back to his prior position, a smirk on his face.

“If you behave.”

“And if I don't?” He drags his tongue over his lip.

“Then that’s even better.”

“Then I'm definitely interested, baby.”

He shoots you a shit-eating grin. God, are those fucking dimples?

“Well, what is your review?”

“Uhm, I like your lips. Almost want to know what they taste like.”

“Almost?”

“Of course! Need to know if you're a good boy first.” You say, matter-of-factly, tilting your head to finish your beer.

His eyes follow your body when you reach for another glass over the counter. “I also think a bottle of soju seems like a lot for one person.”

Damn, you are hot.

“Well, I'm a big guy.” He says, but pours it in your cup nonetheless.

“I can surely see that.” You huff, making him laugh.

“I'm Namjoon, by the way.”

You introduce yourself, taking the hand he extends to you.

The feeling of his large palm enveloping yours take your mind to other places. Places where that same hand is running up your legs, reaching for your zipper and slipping inside your—

“You're here alone?”

Before you can respond, your phone vibrates over at the counter, and you reach for it, checking a new message in your brother's chat.

“Gimme a sec.”

[10:47] baby j 😗: im rly rly sorry, sth came up, wont be able to make it tn

[10:47] you: You alright?

[10:48] baby j 😗: yeah

[10:48] you: Then why cant you come?

[10:49] baby j 😗: …

[10:49] baby j 😗: i met up w this really cute guy from my class and i wanna fuck him

[10:50] you: You bailing on me to fuck???

[10:51] baby j 😗: im so so sorry 🥺

[10:51] you: No you aint 😡

[10:52] baby j 😗: my bad lol

[10:53] baby j 😗: gtg tho, see u tmrw

“You ok?” Namjoon asks, as soon as you finish your glass of soju after sending Jimin a bunch of angry face emojis.

You realize you're frowning, and immediately ease the scowl on your face.

“Yeah. My brother just stood me up.”

“Shit. I'm sorry.”

“It's ok.”

Namjoon is quiet for a second.

“So you're leaving?”

You honestly thought Jimin would take longer to piss you off this time, but when you meet Namjoon's uncertain eyes, you can't really feel too bad about yourself right now. You smile mischievously. 

“Giving up already? Oh baby, I thought you could hold up.” You pout.

“I would never even think of leaving you unsatisfied.” The grin returns to his face, where it belongs. “Besides, who would I share my soju with?”

You pretend to search around the club.

“There are plenty of people here.”

“I'm sure of it, but there’s this beautiful girl who’s talking big to me and looks awfully uncomfortable in her clothes and I happen to be a very good boy who just wants to help her out of them.”

“Didn’t think of you as the romantic type.”

“What can I say, I’m as sweet as they come.”

“Then what do you say I help you finish this bottle before you give me a hand, sweet boy?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Just one thing, though.” He turns to you, attentive. “Sweet isn’t really my thing. I like it rough.” You wink.

“Damn, princess.” He chuckles. “I like you.”

Namjoon prided himself on being a good flirt. He liked to take his sweet time with his partners, teasing and instigating in such a way that any fleeting touch would ignite the skin.

But you? You were humbling him.

Barely two cups into the bottle, he decided to take you to dance. He assumed that having his hands on your thighs, gripping your hips, and his lips brushing gently over your neck would help to shut that witty mouth of yours, but as you keep grinding your ass on his cock he finds himself guiding you closer, spellbound by the way your body frames his.

Namjoon's thoughts are clouded by your hips, the feeling of your skin beneath his fingertips turning him the fuck on, making him feel like a horny teenager.

A thin layer of sweat covers your bodies, the loud music a mere excuse for you two to keep pressing into each other.

Namjoon can hear your shaky breaths as you turn a bit on his hold, lips nearing his ear as you nib lightly at the flesh — which, paired with the way your fingers grab his hair, is enough to prompt a quiet moan out of his plumpy lips, one that you wouldn’t have listen weren’t you so close to him.

He should be ashamed of how fast he’s giving in, but he honestly doesn’t give a fuck. He just wants more. So he lets you do as you please — even if just for now.

Namjoon leisurely rolls his pelvis on your ass, large palms coming up to circle your waist and it’s his turn to listen to the pretty whine you give him. Namjoon closes his eyes, trying to focus.

“Wanna kiss you so bad, babe. Can I kiss you?”

You nod immediately and Namjoon wastes no time in grabbing your hand in his and quickly guiding you out of the dance floor, cutting through the sea of bodies with clear purpose.

You two make your way to a hall near what you assume is the backdoor of the club, poorly illuminated but also a bit more quiet.

Namjoon gently pushes you towards the wall, your back meeting its cold surface. The way he stares at you resembles nothing the sweet eyes you met at the bar — now dark with lust, nothing short of intimidating.

And you would be lying if you said that didn’t spur a heat below your belly.

“Are we allowed to be back here?” A coy smile crosses Namjoon’s face.

“That’s what you're thinking right now?”

“What should I be thinking, sweet boy?”

A huffed laugh passes his lips, and Namjoon steps closer. One of his arms comes to rest near your face.

“In a good ass excuse for the show you pulled back there.” His low register sends a shiver down your spine.

On second thought? Maybe you shouldn’t have teased him that much, but— ah, who are you kidding?

“Thing is, babe, I’m not sorry.”

Namjoon shakes his head, taking a step closer.

With his body so near, you’re suddenly hyper aware of everything. You close your eyes when his breathing ghosts over your skin, feeling goosebumps trail over your arms.

You wait for his next action. You wait for a touch or a reprimand, but it never comes.

Wait.

He didn’t… leave you, did he?

You’re mortified for a second, but as if sensing your distress Namjoon brings his fingertips to graze over your sides. The sudden touch startles you a bit.

When his hands reach your upper arm, you hear him let out a sharp, frustrated breath, prompting you to open your eyes.

“You are fucking beautiful.”

You want to reciprocate his praise, but the words seem lost in your throat. This close you feel drunk on his beauty, dazed by his full, sinful lips and intoxicated by his heat as your bodies orbit each other.

Are you imagining him?

Namjoon’s hand continues to travel up your body, stopping at your jaw.

The pad of his thumb traces your chin, reaching your bottom lip and slowly pulling it off of your anxious bite, soothing the flesh in a tender movement.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks again, tone serious.

You smile.

“At this point, you better.”

And so he does, plumpy lips touching yours with surprising tenderness while his hands rest on your neck. You are taken aback by his softness, not reacting for a second before pulling him closer to bathe in his warmth.

The kiss unwinds all the tension off of you, replacing it with lust. The docility of his actions makes them hypnotic, your mind disoriented with his skin grazing yours — but you’ve never been a patient woman.

You slide your hands through his chest, trailing his defined torso before grabbing his shirt in your fists. You break the kiss and he lifts an eyebrow in question.

“Thought I told you sweet isn’t really my thing, big boy.”

Namjoon chuckles. “So impatient.”

This time Namjoon smashes your lips together, kissing you with hunger.

He presses you further against the wall and you stumble with his eagerness, a satisfied hum leaving your throat.

His hands explore your body, going through your neck, your shoulders, your hips and then your ass, grabbing a handful and giving it a hard squeeze.

He opens your mouth with his, and you tilt your head to deepen the kiss. His breath is ragged when he slips his tongue inside, and you two take barely a second to match each other's rhythm.

You suck the soju's sweetness off his tongue, and he drinks the bitter memory of your beer. Forget the alcohol — he's the one inebriating your thoughts.

You feel every inch of his body, pressed flush against his broad torso as his waist smoothly drags over yours, making it almost impossible for you to keep your whiny sounds down your throat.

You make no effort, on the other hand, to resist the urge to bite his pillowy flesh, nibbing with maybe more force than you should, but grinning in satisfaction when you earn a sweet groan in response.

You entangle your arms around his neck, pulling your bodies closer in a desperate attempt to get more of him, and he seems just as insatiable, slithering his arms behind your back to press your fronts.

Namjoon breaks the kiss, but he gives you no time to complain before you feel his mouth on your neck, sucking and biting between licks over the sweaty skin.

Your hands find purchase on his hair, grabbing his locks with force as arousal gushes out of you.

Namjoon's determined to mark all over your neck. After he sucks a hickey on the spot between your ear and your jaw, you just fucking know he's sporting the smuggest smile at the way his actions shove the prettiest of yelps out of you.

He levels his face with yours, but avoids your lips when you try to resume the kiss. 

“You’re awfully quiet, baby girl” he points out when you frown “have nothing smart to say?”

“How about fuck you?”

“I plan on it, don’t worry.” A cocky grin takes his lips. “And although you look gorgeous trying to be in control, I wanna hear you. I wanna hear how good I’m making you feel, baby.”

He doesn’t really give you an option when he slots his leg between yours, large thigh pressing up your core and pushing an audible whimper out of you. The sound makes Namjoon grab a handful of your ass and use it to grind you along his thigh — his fucking thigh.

You grab the back of his head, pulling him to you as you smother his lips with yours, but this time Namjoon eats all your moans, feasting on the sounds you so obediently grant him.

You’re bathing in each other’s heat and with a particularly delicious roll of your hips, your core brushes on his growing bulge. You suck in a breath, parting with the kiss to learn how to breathe again.

“Look at you” his tone is laced with lust “riding my thigh like a good girl.”

Fuck, you're so damn horny, and you've barely done anything. The fuck is up with you? It scares you how you know you'd promptly fold if Namjoon asked you too, just to have that cock drilling inside you.

So you just hum weakly, apparently forgetting how to fucking speak.

“What was it again? That you called me before?” he asks, returning to slide your clothed core over his strong legs again, loving the way you look getting off on his thigh “Oh, right. What happened with all the filth you were saying before, sweet girl?”

You swallow. This man is fucking challenging you. You have to get your shit together.

“Namjoon—” you moan his name out “I’m… I’m so fucking wet right now.”

“Yeah?” His Adam's apple bobs in his throat.

“Yeah, Namjoon, my panties are fucking soaked.”

“Shit. That’s it, wanna hear you losing it.”

Namjoon wants you so bad. He can feel the warmth of your core rubbing against him, and he can only imagine the growing stain in your panties, the desire of licking you clean the only thing in his mind. He wants to know how you look when you cum, and he just knows it'll be the prettiest fucking thing.

“I can feel how hard you are for me.” Your shaky voice makes him growl.

“Yeah, sweet girl?” That’s his new favorite pet name, the only thing he wants leaving his mouth.

You close your lips on his neck, moaning against his skin when you lick up his throat, a salty taste coating your tongue.

“I haven’t even—” you falter, intensifying your movements to touch his covered cock with each raise of your hips “I haven't even touched you yet, big boy. If I lose control, you sure you can keep it?”

You suck a purple stain on his pulse point, nibbing at it softly and rolling your eyes back over the grunts he pours on your ears.

Your hand slides between your bodies, fingers ghosting over his cock. Namjoon chuckles darkly.

“You're such a tease.”

“And what you gonna do about it, big boy?” You murmur on his skin.

Before Namjoon can answer, though, a high giggle echoes through the corridor.

You both turn, startled by the sound.

A couple stumble its way into the corner, in a messy make out session that delays their realization that they aren't alone. 

“Do you live close?” You ask Namjoon, breathe steadying when the two of you understand the couple doesn’t really mind the audience.

“Yeah.” He says, non-committal.

“Can we maybe go to your place?” You suggest, unsure if he's comfortable with it.

Namjoon turns his attention back to you, and his lips curve up into the most gentle smile you've ever seen.

“If you want to.”

You nod, mirroring his smile.

Namjoon adjusts himself in his pants, trying to be as comfortable as one can be with a painfully hard cock in tight fitting slacks.

You take the cue to soothe your own clothing and Namjoon can't help when his cute smile turns into a full on smirk upon seeing the evidence of his hands on your crumpled outfit.

He takes your hand in his when you both are relatively presentable, and once again leads you through the club, this time aiming for the exit.

Turns out, Namjoon isn't a good boy at all.

The whole ride to his apartment his hand was planted on your thigh, caressing softly without ever breaching your inner thigh or skirting higher — it was as innocent as it possibly could be.

Yet you were squirming and fidgeting the whole trip as his voice, enveloped in the most vulgar desire, whispered the most filthy promises on your ear, shooting arousal all the way down to your now sticking panties.

Promises of making you cum on his tongue, of fucking you senseless with your face on his mattress — of painting you with his cum tonight.

By the time the car finally stopped at his place, you felt your knuckles sore from clutching the fabric of your pants.

Not that he was unaffected. Namjoon could dirty talk you all he wanted, it didn't change the fact that you saw the way his cock twitched and how he was restlessly shifting in his seat whenever you played into his little scenarios.

Although, in hindsight, saying you wanted to be stuffed full of him wasn't the best idea, because the quiet groan he spilled in your ear did nothing to placate your own aching pussy.

The warmth of his palm is familiar at this point as he takes your hand to climb the flights of stairs to his place. Namjoon quietly fishes for his keys and, before opening the door, he looks at you, smiling softly and making you smile too.

When you both are inside his apartment, you wet your lips, anticipating his kiss. But Namjoon misses the action, too preoccupied with taking off his shoes and jacket and politely asking for you to do the same at the entrance.

His long legs stride towards the kitchen, and you almost assume he’s nervous when he fumbles with his cabinets, picking up two glasses.

You frown and, slowly following after him, you hop up on the stool by the counter, across from him. 

“Namjoon.”

“Yeah.” He fills the cups with water, placing them between you two and finally returning your gaze.

“Do you still wanna fuck?”

Namjoon huffs out a laugh. “Yes. I definitely still wanna fuck you.” His eyebrows knit together. “Why? Don’t you?”

“I do. But I kinda expected you to have, you know, thrown me against the wall or something by now.”

“I might still do that. Just wanna talk for a bit, make sure you’re sober and all.” He explains, reaching for his cup, and you mimic his motion, soothing the dryness of your throat. 

“Well” you ponder “I honestly feel a bit tipsy, but I’m conscious.”

“Do you want some time to be sure?”

“Nah, I’m sure.” He nods. “Are you drunk?”

“Not really.” Namjoon presses his lips into a tight line, before saying: “I also wanna know your limits.”

“My limits?”

“Yeah, I wanna know what you don’t like.”

“Oh” you huff out a laugh, dumbfounded “that’s nice. You seriously ask that to everyone you hook up with?”

“I like to.”

“Okay, uhm…” you sip your water. “I’m not really into degradation and, although I said I like it rough, I would appreciate it if you didn’t hit me or anything.” He nods, waiting for you to continue. “I also don’t feel comfortable with ass stuff. Oh, and do you have condoms?”

“Yes.”

“Then I think that’s it. Maybe just don’t try anything freaky before telling me?”

“Sure, no problem.”

“What about you?” He cocks his head to the side, considering you for a second.

“There isn't much I'm not willing to do, honestly, so really? Just don’t want you to lie or fake stuff. I want you to tell me if I’m doing something wrong.”

“I can do that.”

Namjoon rounds the counter, stopping in front of you before helping you stand.

“Up.” He commands, head tilting in the direction of the counter, and you jump to sit on it.

“There’s only one problem.” You say, guiding him between your legs.

“What?”

“I’m soaking wet right now.”

“That can’t be comfortable.” He traces soft circles on your thighs.

“It isn’t. And it’s your fault, big boy.” You pout.

Namjoon sucks his lower lip between his teeth, dark lust cloaking his eyes.

He gets closer, hands coming to your ass and squeezing it.

“But I’ve barely done anything.”

“I’m painfully aware of that.” You whine, seeking more contact.

“Are you normally that impatient, baby?”

“Do you normally take this damn long to fuck someone?”

He chuckles.

“You sure you can take it if I’m rough with you, princess?”

“You sure you can be rough with me, sweet boy? Cause you’ve been all talk and no—”

He smashes his mouth against yours before you could finish.

Namjoon’s lips seem like velvet on yours — despite the pressure, despite the thirst with which he drinks you up. He moves his lips in a way that almost feels like too much, like you won’t be able to take it, but the taste of lust coats your mouth so deeply that you’re intoxicated.

His hands memorize your body, grabbing your neck to tilt your head to the side before you open your mouth to meet his hot tongue, flicking it with yours.

You explore his mouth, happy to swallow all of his breathy groans as Namjoon tightens his grip on your ass, pulling you to drag on his bulge and grunting at the feeling, your body gasoline to his fire.

He can barely concentrate on the kiss, and you’re not much better, the initial eagerness developing into a sloppy make out session — fuck technic, how can one focus when Namjoon’s cock is so deliciously rubbing against you?

He starts to kiss down your jaw, wet lips tracing your sensitive flesh, taking your neck as his canvas.

You couldn't be more thankful for not having any more meetings to attend until being back to Busan, because you definitely don't own enough makeup to hide the purple marks he leaves behind. 

He cups your boob, squeezing it in a way that has you parting your lips in a whimper.

“Fuck princess, you’re so responsive.”

His palm slithers beneath your shirt, caressing the soft flesh of your stomach before he tugs your top off.

“Take this off for me, baby.” He commands, voice low in your ear as he brushes the thin lace of your bra.

And you obey, unclasping it and letting it fall somewhere near your top.

You're not ashamed or timid in the slightest when you lean back on the counter to let him take in as much as he wants from you, a tiny smirk crossing your lips. Your confidence makes Namjoon crazy, but you can't help it. You feel so hot under his gaze, you could let this man do anything to you.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous. Like, honestly, what the fuck.” You giggle.

“Come back here then, sweet boy.”

He kisses down your body, from your neck to your collarbone before he finally reaches your tits.

He closes his mouth around you, swirling his tongue around your nipple as his thumb finds your other breast, flicking over your hard nub and eliciting a loud cry out of your pretty lips. Namjoon seriously feels like he could drown in your sweet sounds.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging a handful and making him groan, vibration reverberating all through your chest.

A string of saliva attaches his lips to your tits as he peppers down kisses between the valley of your chest to regard your other boob, latching onto your nipple and taking his hand to smear the wetness he left behind.

The tip of his tongue licks your nipple, and you buck into his hips.

“Fuck, Namjoon, I… I love your mouth.” You pant.

“Love your tits.”

And he certainly makes you feel so.

Your head falls back when his hand cups your pussy over your pants. The elongated moan you grace him with makes him pull your waistband, quickly undoing your buttons.

You suck in a breath when his hand slips inside your panties, and the groan that leaves his throat is borderline painful as he finally feels you — his fingertips slightly spreading your folds as your slick coats him. 

“Damn, baby, you’re dripping.” He says, breaking the pattern of kisses on your tits to look at your face.

“I fucking told you.”

“Is all this for me?”

“Yeah, ba—” your words turn into a whine when his middle finger presses down your clit.

He chuckles, and you clench around nothing.

Namjoon feels like he's dreaming, seeing your head tilted back, your eyes closed shut as you squirm on his finger.

He pushes one digit inside your aching pussy, and you sob. Your wetness paired with the warmth of your walls pushes a moan out of his mouth, electricity going straight to his dick and coaxing him to push another finger inside — his mind spiraling as he imagines how your pussy will feel like around his cock.

“Good girl, soaking my fingers.”

Namjoon’s attention is locked on your face, gauging your reactions carefully.

“Shit, baby, that's it” you shudder when his fingertips find your g-spot, and he starts to hit it restlessly, your walls sucking him in.

You feel your breath scaping your lungs. Although Namjoon’s hand is somewhat restrained by your pants — which he didn’t mind taking off — the stretch of his fingers inside of you is maddening.

He's slowly working you up, heat coursing through your body and all the way to your scalp, the obscene sounds dripping from you only spurring you on.

You start to struggle to support yourself, feeling weaker by the minute, so you grab his upper arms, in an attempt to steady yourself. When you open your eyes, you’re met with deep, dark lust.

“I want to eat you out.” He says, and you feel like you’re going to pass out.

“Fucking god.”

“Would you like that, baby?”

“Yes, baby, fuck” you moan.

“Tell me you want it.”

Can't he tell by the way your chest is rising and falling at an almost concerning speed?

“I wanna feel that pretty mouth of yours in my pussy, Namjoon.”

He groans before his hand leaves your cunt and helps you down the counter.

You two stumble your way to his bedroom. Namjoon's arms hug you tightly against him as your hands pull his hair in a messy kiss, the only concern in your minds is to remain linked.

Namjoon tosses you carelessly over his mattress, drawing a gasp out of you.

The sight of you on his sheets, bare chest glistening with his saliva, pants poorly undone and shifting as you try to relive the emptiness he left behind makes Namjoon grope himself through his clothes, swallowing strained grunts.

You smirk at his distress, bringing your hands to your boobs and pushing them together to shove that grunt out of his throat. 

“You look so pretty like this, spread out for me.”

“I bet you’ll find me prettier with your cock inside of me.”

“You keep saying these things…” he closes his eyes, sighing heavily at the image you cast in his head. “I think I need to teach you some manners, dirty girl.”

“I’m counting you’ll at least try.” You smirk and Namjoon chuckles.

In a smooth motion, he takes his shirt off, exposing his broad, sculpted chest. Smug takes his face at the way you shamelessly gawk at him, and he kneels at the floor, hands harshly yanking you to the edge of the bed by your pants, before he finally slides them down your legs.

Namjoon straight out moans when he notices the large pool of arousal staining your panties.

“Damn, baby” his voice is barely audible and you squirm, shutting your legs to try and provide some friction. “You want to be fucked this bad?” His hands come up your thighs to part them, gaze transfixed in your core, layered by the thinnest lace of underwear.

“I want to be fucked this bad by— by you, shit.” You stutter as Namjoon lips meet your legs, biting and licking the soft flesh.

He trails kisses along your thighs, closing the distance to your cunt, but instead of touching you where you need him to, his lips simply hover over you. You let out a low curse when he continues his path to your other thigh, licking and sucking roughly.

“Namjoon, please.”

“Please what, princess? Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you.”

“I want your lips.“

“They’re right here.”

“I just told you.” You whine.

“Fucking tell me again if you really want it.”

“Please, eat me out, baby.” Your voice is pathetically high, but you couldn't care less.

“Since you asked so nicely” the look of his dimples between your thighs is the most beautiful obscene thing you've ever been graced with.

Namjoon shoves your panties to the side, and the way he curses your name out has you forgetting how to breathe.

“The prettiest fucking pussy, so fucking wet for me” he groans “I bet I could slip right in.” And you’re sure he’s right, feeling your lust dripping down your ass.

Namjoon seems to like the way you squirm under him, because instead of fulfilling his promises, he blows a cold puff of air over your folds and the way you shudder has his dick twitching. 

“Namjoon, for fuck’s sake.” He chuckles. “I'll fight you, I swear to god.”

He brings his finger to glide up your entrance, effectively shutting you up.

Namjoon teases you, pulling your folds apart before spreading your slick around them, leaving you all nice and sloppy for him. His eyes flick up to the way your chest rises and falls above him, then his gaze returns to your drenched cunt.

How are you supposed to survive the night if he keeps looking at you like that? Like you are sin incorporated? 

He finally brings his face to you, licking a long stripe along your pussy and collecting all your juices on his way up to your clit, where he swirls his tongue before sucking, hard.

You can’t help the loud cry that exits your throat, nor how it elongates when Namjoon hums in pleasure.

“You taste so fucking good.”

One of your hands flies to his hair, twisting and pulling carelessly, while the other gathers his sheets in your fists.

You jolt your hips up to meet his face as he continues to lap at your cunt and when he drags the tip of his hot tongue to part your folds and pushes it inside your walls, Namjoon has to pin you down to prevent you from lifting off the bed.

“So fucking good, baby” you moan, fumbling with his hair.

“Yeah?” His deep voice against your heat makes your head fall back.

Namjoon feel his control dissolving pretty fucking fast as he takes in all that you can give him, arousal gushing out of you for him to feast.

His tongue explores your cunt and he softly takes your clit in between his teeth. You feel a sharp pressure growing in your stomach and you grind on his face seeking more of it.

“Shit! Do that again, please” you yelp, and he promptly nibbles down at your clit.

Namjoon starts to focus on your now swollen nub, while he slides his hand down, and before you can process his intentions, you feel the delicious push of two of his fingers inside of your cunt.

The sound you let out has Namjoon’s mind blanking. You arch your back, squeezing your eyes shut as goosebumps crawl up your arms.

Namjoon lifts your legs to rest them on his shoulders, allowing himself to go deeper into you and he speeds up his movements, his fingers scissoring you open for him. Namjoon eats you up like his life depends on it, sucking the soul out of your body.

Sinful squelching and slurping noises fill his room, and he wants those sounds imprinted to his brain, your pussy loudly dripping for him.

In a sudden movement, he curves his fingers, hitting your sweet spot. Your breath tries to keep up with your racing heart while the knot in your belly threatens to snap.

You let go of his sheets, hand coming up your chest, cupping your boob just slightly before pinching your hard nipples, the sensitivity making you squirm, Namjoon's groan between your legs just spurring you on, the sight of you unraveling above him the most erotic thing he's ever seen — and to know he's the one making you shiver like that makes his cock painfully hard.

You rest your hand beside your head, trying to steady yourself somehow and failing miserably.

Your mind is empty, his tongue washing away any lingering thoughts or worries you’ve ever had, as if you know nothing but the feeling of his lips wrapping around your folds and the maddening drag of his fingers inside of you. 

When your legs start to shake and your walls clench around his digits, Namjoon slightly parts his lips from you, but without pausing his fingers — if anything, he starts to pump them faster.

"You gonna cum?"

You nod.

Your lower lip will definitely be bruised tomorrow.

"Words, baby girl."

"Yes! Yes, I’m close" you cry.

"Look at me." He demands, and you do as he says.

You support yourself on your elbows, meeting his firm gaze on you.

The sight of Namjoon between your thighs, chin glistening as your arousal drips from his mouth, and the fact that he still hasn’t stopped fingering you, make your whole body quiver, your stomach contracting hard, and you have to gather all your self control to not cum just from his looks.

Fuck, you wish you could take a picture.

"Want you to look at me when you come." You clench around his fingers. "Can you do that for me, princess?"

"Yeah" you are like… twenty percent sure you can.

Namjoon grins to himself in triumph. You’re already already this fucked out and he’s barely begun with you.

His mouth returns to your core. Honestly? Namjoon's knees are surely bruised from the hard floor, scraping whenever he moves further against you. But he couldn’t give less of a fuck as his tongue worships you in earnest, your name falling from his lips like prayer while his fingers stretch you so fucking good, pushing you to the edge of your orgasm.

"Jesus, Namjoon, that’s it" you feel silly, struggling to keep your eyes open.

"Cum for me baby. Cum on my face." He commands, register so low you barely hear him.

The feral look he directs you alongside his words make your orgasm hit you in a strong wave, your body lifting from the mattress and shaking vigorously. Namjoon’s hand spreads over your stomach to try and pin you down as he keeps his tongue lapping at you, drinking up all your essence and helping you ride out your high.

He groans at the way your browns shoot up your forehead, mouth silently parting as your head falls back.

You’re so fucking gorgeous when you cum.

You push his head away from you when your legs start to tremble from oversensitivity, searching for air.

Namjoon puts your panties back in place, the soaked clothing sticking to your eaten out pussy and making him hum, satisfied.

"That’s it, baby, you did so well for me."

"Fuck" you whisper, running your fingers through your hair. The shockwaves of your orgasm are still making you shiver when you pant, "what the fuck was that?"

Namjoon chuckles, slowly lifting himself from his bruised knees.

His stare on you falters when he darts his tongue out to collect your cum from around his mouth, eyes fluttering shut.

He climbs up the bed, careful not to crush you as he brings his lips to yours. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and he swallows the quiet whine you make before pulling away.

Namjoon takes his wet fingers and wraps around his mouth, sucking his fingers clean with his eyes closed.

When he looks at you again, something unreadable crosses his gaze before he gulps. "Can I spit in your mouth, pretty girl?"

Your reaction betrays your answer, thighs immediately pressing together as a new wave of arousal shoots through you at his request.

But Namjoon still waits until you say: "Fuck yeah, you can."

His smile is ridiculously innocent for the matter at hand.

"Then open up for me, princess."

And you do, parting your lips and sticking your tongue out as he grabs your jaw, hovering above you.

You close your eyes as a small globe of spit hits your tongue, and you swallow proudly, a content hum ripping from your throat. 

"Good girl, shit, that’s so hot."

He leans in to resume the kiss, making himself more comfortable between your legs. His clothed cock drags against your inner thigh.

Why is he still wearing pants?

"Namjoon" you call, between kisses.

"Uhm."

You take your hands to his torso, tracing freely and loving the way his skin shivers under your fingertips. From his broad shoulders to his firm abdomen, you explore his golden, sweaty skin above you, until you slide one of your hands down. Your palm touches his member, stroking it just slightly as you bathe in the broken moan he graces you with.

"Let me suck you off." You offer, feeling how hard — and thick, mind you — he is under your hand.

"Can you handle more?" His tone is teasing, but his look is genuine. 

You’re silent for a moment. What does he mean by that? Would he just… stop if you said no?

God, why is that so hot?

"Yeah, sweet boy. Wanna take care of you too."

The problem is that there’s no way Namjoon’s gonna last if you suck him off. He can barely control himself now, after tasting you and drawing all those sweet sounds out of you. His dick is already twitching under your half assed strokes, the slight discomfort from his pre cum staining his clothes a clear sign he needs to be inside you. He wants to make you cum again, but around his cock this time.

So he chuckles.

"Can you take it if I fuck you now?" You bite your lip, nodding. "Yeah? Tell me you want my cock, baby girl."

"I want you cock, Joonie." You spill, lips nearing his ear. "I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t walk tomorrow."

Maybe not your brightest idea, but at this point you don't give a shit. Namjoon is the only thought on your mind and if you came that hard just from his fingers, you can’t wait to see what his dick will feel like.

"Fuck, I love your filthy mouth." He groans. "Sure you don’t need some time?"

"Nah… maybe leave the riding for later, though?" A coy smile crosses your face.

"Sure" he smiles back.

Namjoon kneels back on the bed, wincing a bit when his sore knee touches the crumpled sheets. Ignoring it, he reaches for his wallet in his back pocket, taking a foil packet out of it.

He stands up, tossing the wallet aside before reaching for his belt.

"Let me" you ask, lifting yourself and sitting on your heels.

You take your hands to his thigh, caressing it before going to his belt, which you undo, eyes not daring to look away from his.

You bite your lip when your hands open his zipper, and you reach around him to grasp his pants, pulling them down slowly as he looks at you with nothing but lust, eyes tilting down to your bare chest.

"You honestly have the most amazing thighs."

He frowns in amusement. "Thanks?"

Usually you’re a big fan of reciprocity, and you might have considered taking your sweet fucking time with him, just like he did with you, if Namjoon hadn’t just give you one of the best orgasms of your life and if you didn’t feel arousal pooling again on your already soaked panties. So, instead, you just pull down his pants along with his briefs, his cock springing free.

Namjoon hisses at the feeling of the fabric dragging against his shaft, and you have to suck in a breath when you look at his thick member. It must be painful how hard he is at this point, dick angry and throbbing.

"Big boy indeed." You blurt out, making Namjoon laugh as he kicks his pants down his legs.

"Losing your confidence, princess?" Honestly? Namjoon has no business having such a pretty cock and being this hot. You feel like he should be illegal.

You curl your palm around his dick and give it a tentative pump. A long moan falls from his lips from finally receiving some attention.

"Namjoon?"

"Yeah."

"Can I at least taste you?" Are you fucking pleading?

He gulps.

"Please?" You pout.

He bites his lip — how could he ever say no to you looking up at him like that, the cutest pout on your lips, while you beg him to let you give him head? He'd give you anything.

"Shit, yes, you can."

You smile.

That's it. Namjoon's sure he's imagining you. Is he dreaming?

You inch closer, giving his tip an experimental lick and tasting his salty pre cum, riveting at the sweet sounds he lays out for you.

You spit on his shaft before you lick your way down him, smearing your spit all over his length, before giving his crown a light suck, prompting Namjoon to buck his hips into your mouth, and you welcome him.

You moan, feeling his weight on your tongue. He twitches between your lips when you hollow your cheeks.

You start to take him further, his tip grazing the back of your mouth while you pump what you can’t fit inside.

"Fuck, princess, you look so pretty sucking my cock." He groans, head tilting back for a second and squeezing his eyes shut.

When you start to bob your head faster, though, Namjoon gathers all his self control and pushes you away, and you release him with a small pop.

You pout, and his jaw tenses "why would you stop me then?"

"I wanna fuck you." He pumps his dick a few times, hand slipping easier with your saliva now coating him. "All I’ve been thinking about."

Namjoon rips the foil packet open with his teeth, securing the condom around himself.

You make a move to lay back on his mattress, but Namjoon shakes his head.

"Nah, baby, that’s not how I want you."

He slithers his arm around your torso, harshly turning you over. He yanks you by your waist, pulling your ass up to him. His hand runs down your spine, pressing your face on his sheets.

Namjoon positions himself behind you. His palm comes up to caress your ass before giving it a hard squeeze.

Namjoon parts your cheeks, and he brings his fingers to your folds, spreading them apart to stare at your pussy. He grunts upon noticing your cunt is already a mess for him again even if he’s just licked you clean.

"You got wet again from sucking my dick, princess?"

"You felt so good in my mouth."

Your words fuel him, and Namjoon doesn’t think twice before he inches closer and licks your folds, the tip of his tongue collecting your licking lust as he hums in pleasure.

"Sweetest fucking pussy" your eyes roll back.

Namjoon pulls away to admire the view. There are you, all pliant, waiting for his next action with your face pressed down his bed, your ass on display, pussy dripping in anticipation.

He never felt this fucking hard.

"God, you’re gorgeous. So beautiful for me like this."

He grips his cock, aligning himself with your entrance, but instead of just sinking it inside you, Namjoon drags his crown up and down your folds like he has all the fucking time in the world. Your spit mixing with your gushing arousal.

You groan — you wanna fight him.

"Namjoon" his name drips like sin from your lips.

"Uhm." He hums, distracted.

"Just fuck me already."

He smirks. 

"Now that’s no way of asking something, is it?" You groan. "Don't you wanna be a good girl for me?"

"Baby, please, can you fuck me? My pussy is so fucking wet right now." You whine, wiggling your ass, creating some, but not nearly enough, friction. "Please..."

Namjoon fucking loves your dirty mouth. "Good girl."

He slowly presses himself between your folds, shoving a loud moan from your throat.

You shudder from the intrusion, his tip deliciously splitting you up as it slides in your cunt.

"Shit, baby, you’re way too tight." He grunts. "Relax for me, princess."

Namjoon leans over you, his torso framing your back. He lays sweet kisses on your shoulders, and his hand on your hips starts to softly trace your skin, raising until he’s grabbing one of your boobs. He squeezes it, pitching your hard nipples.

His gentle touches make you melt, allowing for Namjoon to drag his cock further inside of you, finding little resistance as his thick cock stretches you up.

Your cunt engulf him so tightly that Namjoon feels his mind spiraling, and when his hips meet your ass, you both let out a shaky breath.

"Shit, I feel so fucking full."

He chuckles.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Yeah, fuck. Gimme a sec."

You roll your hips slightly to try and get used to his size, but he’s filling you up so good that the tiniest of movements makes his shaft drag against your walls, a quiet yelp falling from your lips.

"Ok." You gulp. "You can move."

Namjoon licks his lips and smirks, hands tightening on your hips.

"Hold tight, baby."

He slowly pushes himself out of you, but doesn’t give you time to feel empty as he immediately comes slamming back inside. You gasp, body jerking forward.

Your pussy welcomes him with each thrust, swallowing him with the most wet sounds you’ve ever heard, and you start to push your ass back to try and take him further between your tight walls.

His cock moves in a merciless pace, and you feel like you forgot how to breathe.

How the fuck does he know how to move his hips like that?

You’re exhilarated, mouth open but not a single sound coming out. Overwhelmed by his soft moans above you, by the way he stuffs your pussy full of him, by the way you can feel your legs wet with your arousal gushing from your core.

You try to get your shit together, prompting your ass back to meet his thrusts, and when you finally find his rhythm — but not without the help of his firm hands dragging you against him — the slapping sounds become so vulgar that you sob.

"That’s it, baby, that’s what you wanted, right?" He mumbles, voice barely coherent as his throbbing cock relentlessly drills your pussy. "To be fucked so hard, to be so stuffed you aren’t able to speak, hum?"

You hum, feeling like you’ll scream if you open your mouth.

Namjoon doesn’t like it, though. He hates the way you’re suppressing your pleasing from him.

"I thought I told you I wanna hear you losing it, baby. Where’s your filthy mouth?"

"So… you… so good, Namjoon… fuck" you stutter.

"You like it?"

"Yeah, shit, go harder."

His eyes flutter shut for a second.

"Anything you want, princess."

Namjoon shifts his legs, trying different angles to make you unable to hold your pretty sounds in. He attempts a couple of ways before he sets his left foot on the mattress, and when he resumes his thrusting a loud scream rips from your throat.

"That’s it, Namjoon, god, there. Please, do it again." You plea, voice pathetically high as you clench around him.

Your moaning is fuel to him, and he starts to fuck you as hard as he can, loving how you’re spiraling under him, tortured sounds finally reaching his ears.

"You feel so good, baby." You say and Namjoon growls.

Just as blissful as the sensation of his cock deep inside of your tight walls, is knowing that he’s making you feel on the fucking moon too. So, he seeks the same spot over and over again, his purpose clear.

You roll your hips, grinding on his cock.

God, it's such a shame you're not into degradation. All Namjoon wants it's to call you his slut.

"Shit, princess, you’re so greedy, fucking yourself with my cock."

You push your ass back again, but this time you feel his balls slapping against your clit and you both falter as lightning courses through your bodies, making you constrict your pussy around him.

"Do that again, baby girl." He commands, and you fucking obey.

You clench around his cock again, and Namjoon goes feral.

His strokes are hard, but so fucking precise that the way he’s railing your pussy makes you feel like you’re losing your grip on reality. 

Shit, this is too fucking good, and Namjoon feels dizzy. If he wasn’t drunk before he certainly feels like it now, thoroughly enjoying the way you’re completely unraveling under him.

"You’re squeezing me so good, so fucking tight for me." He groans out.

His fingers dig into your flesh in a way that you’re sure it’ll definitely bruise — but you want it too. You want him to mark you all over with the evidence of how good he’s fucking you, of how good he’s making you feel.

Your mind is clouded. Your knuckles sore from how hard you’re clutching the sheets.

Namjoon’s so fucking satisfied, pride exuding from his body as he looks down at you on his bed, being fucked senseless as he drills his cock in and out of you, loud slapping and squelching sounds making it even more obscene.

"You take me so well, shit, such a good girl." Namjoon groans, hypnotized by the way your body rocks with the force of his thrust.

You could die a happy woman just from the way he praises you. His words making your stomach twists in what you’re sure will be another mesmerizing orgasm. 

"I could fuck you all night, baby, and I just know you’d take it."

"Yeah, Namjoon— I, I would." You yelp. "I will."

He has the audacity to chuckle. 

"I’ll hold you up on that offer later."

You’re already so close again. God, you don’t wanna come like this, you don’t wanna come so soon.

"Namjoon?" You call and he hums in response. "I wanna ride you."

Did he win the lottery or something? He feels like he doesn’t deserve it. God, he missed like, three essay deadlines this semester, he definitely doesn’t deserve it. 

"Fuck, yeah, baby, you can ride me."

He slips out of you, and wastes no time crawling to sit at the headboard.

Namjoon reaches out to hold you, helping you straddle him with your wobbly legs. He laughs when you take a deep breath, goosebumps all over your skin.

"You sure you can ride me, though?"

"Shut up" you hiss, trying to concentrate before you wrap your hand around his length and lift over him to align him with your entrance.

A shaky cry falls from your lips as you gradually sink in his dick. The stretch is completely different and his fat cock splits you open so deliciously that you somehow feel even fullen than before.

"Fuck, I love this position." He reads your thoughts.

You just nod, unable to think as you find purchase on his shoulders. When you’re finally fully seated, you feel like Namjoon's cock is touching your soul.

"Fuck, Namjoon, you’re huge."

His face is all scrunched up, brows knit together in pleasure, and you’re almost angry at how beautiful this man is. The nerve.

"God, this pussy so fucking tight."

You take a deep breath, and swiftly roll your hips over him. Namjoon’s head thumb back and you feel so fucking powerful when his hands grab your ass, trying to guide you over him to reproduce the feeling. So you grind on him again, making his cock reach spots you didn’t even know you had.

After rolling a bit more on his lap, you muster all the strength you can and lean back, planting your palms on his thighs — have you mentioned how fucking beautiful his thighs is? — before slowly raising yourself.

The second time you drag your pussy down his length is even more delicious, and it makes you feel so good that you feel like this is wrong in some way.

Ok, who are you kidding?

You’re both pure sin at this point. There’s no turning back from the obscenities you two said tonight.

So yeah, fuck it.

You try to focus as you slowly start to move your hips up and down, regretting all the times your friends tried to convince you to exercise and you didn’t, because you can’t seem to find a pace.

But Namjoon, so very attentive to your needs, grabs your hips, helping you establish a sluggish pace — but a pace nonetheless.

You gradually start to feel more comfortable, more capable, and Namjoon’s grip on your waist is now more for his own sake than yours when your movements speed up.

Soon enough, you’re riding him in earnest, in a hard rhythm that makes you meet his pelvis each time, his thighs quiver under your weight in the most gorgeous way as you send Namjoon to the places he not long ago made you visit. 

A proud grin settles on your face, watching him grunt with each stroke. 

"You're so good for me, baby, letting me fuck you like a good boy" you echo his words, almost teasing, but your shaky tone betrays you.

"You fuck me so good, princess."

Shit, you feel lightheaded.

Namjoon bites his lip, eyes transfixed on your bouncing tits. He takes your boobs in his palms, caressing and grasping them softly, your sounds music to his ears.

Your gaze falls to his neck, not nearly enough marked by you, so you dive to his throat, tongue licking up to his ear before you start to kiss and suck harshly at his pulse points, making him moan loudly into your ear.

"You’re so sweet and big for me" you say, clenching around him and you feel his dick twitching inside.

"Shit, baby, do it again." He asks, and you promptly close your walls around him again.

Namjoon’s not sure how long he’ll last with you on top of him like this, riding the soul out of his body while your lips worship his neck. But he needs you to come first — or rather, again, but this time around his throbbing cock.

Thankfully you’re not far. Your lower belly is contracting, nearing your high, and you’re so gone that you could tell Namjoon you love him at this point, you don’t even care — and you don’t think he does either.

"You’re so good for me, my pretty girl."

His? Shit, can you have that on paper?

"All yours, baby."

You yelp when Namjoon’s thumb finds your clit and starts rubbing you. The pad of his fingers spreads your wetness over your bundle of nerves, your heart ramming against your ribcage.

"Baby, I’m… I’m close." You're fucking panting, that's what you are.

"Thank god." He breaths. "Can I take over, princess?"

You nod, and Namjoon circles his strong arm around your waist, turning you without slipping his dick off of you.

When he suits himself above you, you immediately wrap your legs around his torso, and Namjoon starts to fuck you like he’s made for it. Fuck, why does he feel like he is, though?

His thrusts are relentless, but he uses his last working braincell to aim his cock against the spots he’s learned that make you cry louder — which you do.

Your hands grip at his hair, tugging hard as your head falls back.

You have to gather all the focus you possibly can to open your mouth, your voice barely a whisper.

"Choke me, baby."

Namjoon gulps.

"What."

"Please, choke me."

"Shit, princess." Is this what dying feels like?

Namjoon closes his hand around your neck, fingers pressing down your pulse points as he feels your erratic heartbeat slightly soothing under his fingertips. Why is this so hot?

Your every sensation is heightened. His cock heavenly railing you, his hot breath fanning against your sweaty skin, the loud sounds that fall both from where your bodies meet and from his mouth.

It takes barely a minute before white spots blur your vision. The tight not in your stomach snaps so fucking hard a scream leaves your parted lips.

Namjoon wants to know how to immortalize the way your face scrunches up when you come — would you let him do it again just so he can take a picture?

The force of your orgasm makes your pussy clench hard around his cock, and you milk him and your body quivers violently. When your back arches from the bed, his bed, he swears you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

His thrusts become shallow, and you’re still rocking with the afterwaves of your orgasm, fighting through the overstimulation when Namjoon feels his own high approaching, so he quickly pulls himself out of your cunt.

He rips the condom off of his cock, tossing it wherever for him to mind later, and starts to pump himself above you. And what a fucking sight to behold.

"Come for me, baby, you’ve been so good, I want you to come all over me."

And like the good boy he is, Namjoon immediately does.

His hot white cum paints your belly just like he promised, a guttural groan leaving his throat as he empties himself over your stomach until he’s thoroughly spent.

You look down, wetting your lips before you bring your finger to your belly. You collect his cum with a flicker of your finger, and take your hands to wrap your mouth around, tasting his salty orgasm with a satiated hum.

Namjoon shudders. In that second, he wants nothing more than to come again just to see you eat his cum out of yourself once more.

"You’re a fucking menace, you know that?"

You smile innocently, and he falls beside you on his sheets.

Namjoon’s breath is uneven, and he brings his hands to push his hair out of his face.

You turn to him, a large grin on your lips. Namjoon’s eyes find yours.

"What?" His lips curve upwards.

"Fuck, sweet boy, I think I’m in love."

You two start giggling, you shake your shoulders in pure mirth while his laugh reverberates all through his body — you both find those sounds just as attractive as the obscenes ones you were eliciting just now.

It takes some time before your shared amusement softly becomes small snickers. 

"Still with the sweet thing?"

"You’re the best I’ve ever had, baby, you’re definitely my sweet boy." He takes his lips in his teeth, shaking his head. 

"I’m the best, huh?"

"Hell, yeah, I’m fucking giggling, Namjoon. Really, what the fuck."

"You’re the best pussy I’ve ever had. I honestly couldn’t be happier your brother bailed on you."

"Shut up." You playfully shove his shoulder, chuckling.

"Seriously, though, introduce me to him, I need to thank him."

"Don't ruin it." You joke.

You both fall into a comfortable silence, collecting your breaths.

"Wait, be right back."

Namjoon lazily gets on his feet, grabbing the used condom from the floor and heading to his bathroom, closing the door.

He returns a couple minutes after, a towel in his hand as he crawls back to bed and starts to gently clean your stomach, reaching your pussy and easing the mess he’s made of you.

"Thanks."

"Don’t mention it." You try to get out of bed, but your shaky legs make you stumble as you get up.

Namjoon quickly helps you steady yourself, a proud smile curving his lips.

"Can I use your bathroom?"

"Sure."

"Uhm… also, do you mind if I stay the night?" You ask, glancing at the clock on his bedside table, noting it’s way past one in the morning.

"Princess, I expect you too." Namjoon smirks. "We’re not nearly done."

Namjoon somehow can look even better in the morning.

You wake up feeling his serene heartbeat beneath your ear, his arms enveloping you and your legs entangled.

You’ve been just peacefully staring at him for around ten minutes now.

At first it was because you feel like you’ve been hit by a bus, sore to the bones. But then, it was because he’s just so damn beautiful you couldn’t help it.

He takes a deep breath, stretching his limbs as he wakes up, yawning loudly. You inch closer and give him a quick peck on his cheek, before resting your chin on his chest.

"Good morning, pretty girl" he smiles, opening his eyes and tugging you closer.

"Morning, sweet boy."

"How long you’ve been awake?"

"Not sure. Ten minutes?"

"Wow, and you’ve just been staring at me? That's so creepy." You roll your eyes, and he chuckles.

Neither of you speaks for another couple of minutes, bathing in the calmness of the morning.

"You ok?" He asks.

"Yeah. Really sore, though."

"Well, you asked for it."

"I did, didn’t I?" You grin. "And you gave it to me like the good boy you are." You tease, kissing his lips.

He reciprocates the touch, but neither of you takes it further.

So. Fucking. Tired.

"I see I wasn’t able to teach you how to behave."

"I’m a lost cause, but I appreciate the effort." He huffs out a laugh, closing his eyes.

"What time is it?"

You turn on his hold to face his clock. "Almost ten."

"Hum."

Namjoon doesn’t make any move to get up, and you start to look over his room. For some reason, you didn’t pay it the slightest attention the night before.

"You in college?" You ask, when you notice tons of books piled on the floor near his dresser.

"Yeah, in my last year."

"Uhm, so pretty boy is also intelligent." He snickers.

"My good looks can be deceiving."

"I was deceived indeed. You have such a dirty mouth, I was baffled." He shoves you away from his grip, groaning.

"You're one to say, the filthiest girl I’ve ever met."

"The filthiest? You flatter me." You laugh, as he playfully pushes you to the other side of the bed. "Oh c’mon, you liked it."

He smiles. "Yeah, I did."

He’s so tender you almost feel shy.

"What do you study?"

"Literature."

"It suits you." You say, scanning his face.

"Thanks, I really like it. But what about you? Aren’t you in college?"

"I graduated last year."

"What you do?"

"Architecture."

"That’s nice."

"Yeah. I’m on a work trip, actually."

"You’re not from here?"

"No, I live in Busan."

"Oh. My roommate is from Busan."

"You have a roommate?" You ask, mortified, but Namjoon chuckles.

"Don’t worry, he was out. He didn’t hear the way you were screaming last night." You shake your head, a smile on your face. Namjoon breathes deeply before lifting to a sitting position on the bed. "Want some breakfast?"

"Yeah, I’d like that. Let me just use the bathroom real quick."

"Ok. Do you like toast? That’s basically the only thing I can make."

"Finally!"

"What?" He frowns.

"Finally you have a flaw, oh my god, I was losing hope" you say dramatically, raising your arms.

"Can't have you falling in love now, can I?" He jokes and you laugh.

Namjoon gets out of bed and you follow, heading for the bathroom and closing the door behind you.

He smiles to himself, shaking his head.

He makes his way to his kitchen, finding his roommate already there, eating his breakfast.

"Morning." He announces himself, and Jimin turns to him.

"Hey, man" he smiles mischievously, cocking his head in the direction of your clothes lying on the floor "how was the party last night?"

Namjoon's brief concern for forgetting to gather the clothes you took off in the kitchen quickly dissolves into a smirk.

"The party? Oh, I kept it in my room."

"All night?"

"All fucking night." They both chuckle. "She’s in the bathroom, so please be civil when she comes here."

Namjoon goes to his cabinets, grabbing some bread to prepare you something to eat.

"Sure, man."

"What about you? You arriving now?"

"I came home around six, I think, so I just crashed. Woke up half an hour ago."

"And how was it with that guy?"

"It was mid. But hey, it was worth the shot. Even if he has no fucking game he's still hot as fuck."

"Sorry to hear that." Jimin shrugs. 

"And what about this girl, huh?"

"Man, this girl…" Namjoon trails off, shaking his head "so fucking hot, I felt like I was dreaming."

"Really? You seeing her again then?"

"Don’t think so, she’s not from here."

"That’s too bad."

"Yeah, it’s whatever. By the way, do you wanna hang out later? There’s this music festival going on and I have no one to go with."

"Don't know, I’m probably going out with my sister today, she flew from Busan to see me."

"Oh nice. Maybe you could introduce us."

"Yeah, if she’s down maybe we can all go together to this festival." Namjoon nods.

He leans on the counter, facing Jimin, and smiles once he sees you coming from the hall.

"Hey, pretty girl."

Jimin turns back when Namjoon acknowledges you.

"Oh, hey sis!" Jimin greets automatically — before freezing completely.

Both yours and Namjoon’s eyes widen in terror.

"Chim?!"

"Wait— she’s your sister!?"

"Jimin’s your roommate from Busan?"

You stand still in the hallway, watching mortified as your brother's face contorts in a grimace, realization hitting him before he shoots his friend a deadly glare.

"God, Namjoon, you fucked my sister?!"

"I didn’t know it was your sister!"

"Man, you’re fucking gross!"

"The fuck’s that supposed to mean?!" You ask, indignant.

"My sister’s not hot!"

"Jimin?!"

"Can’t agree with you on that one, man, sorry." Namjoon argues.

"Those are my sister’s clothes, man?" He continues, ignoring what his friend said for his mental health’s sake, before he turns to you. "And you’re wearing his clothes? What the fuck?!"

"Jimin, stop being a child."

"You came to Seoul to fuck my roommate?!"

"You’re the one who stood me up last night. To fuck, may I remind you."

"Thanks for that, by the way." Namjoon interjects, winking at you, and a small smile crosses your lips before Jimin groans, exasperated.

"Seriously, man?! And what the hell happened to your neck, did he fucking punch you?"

"God, no! I just cho—"

"Shut up! God, I can’t fucking look at your two right now, unbelievable." He says, getting up in a hussle before striding to his room, cursing under his breath.

You and Namjoon are left alone in the kitchen, silence filling the room.

You gauge his expressions, realizing he’s doing the same.

"Thank fuck he wasn’t here last night." Namjoon says after a while, and you can’t contain the laugh that escapes past your lips.

"You really had to thank him, though?" Namjoon bites his lips. 

"I'd feel bad if I didn't. Mom taught me to be grateful." He bites his lip. "Do you still want that toast?"

You smile. "Sure, sweet boy."

note ↠ sooooo, what do you think? i really hope you guys enjoyed it as much as i did! it took some time for me to finally be satisfied with it, and i have like, ten versions lost somewhere in my google docs lmao links ↠ navigation | masterlist | join my permanent taglist

[kanmom51]

Run BTS Mini field day - Part 2

Part 2 of part 2...

Cr./to the creators of media used in this post.

So, where were we?

Oh, yes, slippery soccer.

Let the games begin.

On the right we have the blue team - JM, RM, Hobi and Suga.

On the left we have the red team - Tae, Jin and JK.

Now let's just have at it, cause hectic is too calm of a word to call what went on there, lol.

There's no way I can describe everything that went on there, and I don't intend to. I will also not share who won this round.

Like I said GO WATCH IT. It's definitely worth it.

What I will do is share some moments with you all. Cute moments. Funny moments. Lovely moments.

So, let's get it.

I guess there will be no forgetting that name for JM in the near future, lol.

I think, although this isn't by order of things happening in the episode, that I will start with Jin and his cahoonas.

Cause why not?

If only for the comic effect...

JK's reaction. 🤣 🤣

After all, this is serious business we're talking about.

JM was finding it hard to stay up on his feet, lol.

And there's more.

I did tell you we had butt slapping, didn't I?

Well I also gave you the first installment of it in my post a couple of days ago.

But there was more butt.

Hey, no complaining. I didn't say it was all tuppy tuppy handsy handsy.

Ok ok, if you insist, here's some handsy stuff too.

We got the hug.

JM wanted that hug so bad.

For scoring a goal that is.

Now, this was hilarious.

Jin, being hit in the balls, got a penalty kick, which Hobi kind of stopped, only to hit JM right in the head and wham, straight into the goal.

But yeah, he finally got to get his hug. With a member of the opponent team...

And we got it from a different angle than in the promo.

Just look at that smile.

Found it kind of funny that none of them had a word to say about JM hugging a member of the opposite team. All RM had to comment was to the legitimacy of him even getting a hug. 🤣

JM and JK are still relatively kinda clean at this point (well, JM has some soapy pants, but yet to be soaked).

And then the chaos begins.

The game is surprisingly close. And the red team have a tactic they try to put in place which involves JK holding on to JM and RM so Jin can score the goal,

a tactic to be utilized by JM a little later and it somehow ends up like this:

That growl JK...

(Disclosure: The JM climbing on JK bit, was in the promos, but not in the actual episode (we knew as much, didn't we?) and it was inserted into this edit by the clip's creator.)

And Tae, is that him enjoying them rolling in the soap, adding more lubrication or him trying to cool them down? Just one more life mystery. Lmao.

But also, there was clearly editing going on there. We have been fooled once again folks. BH editors depriving us of some evidently (I mean look at what's going on there) good Jikook content.

One thing I ask myself about whatever it was that was going on there, and that is: what the hell did it have to do, if at all, with playing soccer? 🤣 

Game ended, and one hug, evidently, was clearly not enough.

And breaking it down.

After the games ended, the winners were announced, Jin got a gold medal as well announcing he got 1st place with Astronaut at M countdown,

and the hectic couple, a.k.a. Jikook, took over the final MCing.

Bonus: A little bit of cutie Koo.

and a little bit of cutie Jiminie.

This is what they had to say at the end:

I can't help but wonder how the flowers ended up with JM.

Bridal bouquet?

And just for fun, I love ending my posts with a little reminder from this episode, something to carry us for a little while longer, you know, till 2025. 😭 😭

[multishipperofgaydeadwizards]

oKaY listen! Jegulus is my OTP and I LOVE me some Bartylus too, but REGULUS & PANDORA 🥹🥹🥹

My babies!!!

Just that they understand each other in a way nobody else can and and and AHHH

1. Okay first of all: SHIP NAMES

Their most common one is Regdora which - kinda boring? Like it’s not bad, but when we have names like STARCHASER or NOBLEFLOWER or FLOWERPOT for other ships that just won’t do. Therefore my suggestion:

Stargazer

Because Star - Regulus (no explanation needed) and like gazer as kind of a synonym for seer?? Alternatively I have Starseer or Waterbox (Water for Reggie like in Moonwater + Pandoras Box yk), but Stargazer just sounds so Stargazer.

2. I OBVIOUSLY love them as an „Arranged Marriage I don’t want AT ALL (why are there butterflies in my stomache??) trope“, BUT also as the „we are queer best friends and jealous of each others partners, but idk why” trope!!

Also how many AMAZING Dynamics they have??

- Grumpy x Sunshine

- I hate everyone, but you and you love everyone, but you love me the most

- Soulmates

- Best Friends to Lovers

- ENEMIES TO LOVERS (Arranged marriage trope)

3. The DENIAL the both of them would have (especially when they are both seers) like:

„I saw a prophecy that showed me and Reggie in a Cottage with a child that could be related to us - MUST BE BECAUSE HES THE GODFATHER“

„Had a Dream abt Panda standing in front of me in a wedding gown - GOOD TO KNOW IM GONNA BE HER BEST MAN“

DO YOU GET WHAT I MEAN??🥹

or the Arranged Marriage Trope??

„Dream Abt making out against a door with Regulus - HOW WEIRD”

“Wow Pandora looks like a goddess in that dress, her glare makes me feel fuzzy and I want to smooth the frown on her forehead with my fingers while she looks up at me - IVE GOTTA REALLY LIKE THAT DRESS TO THINK LIKE THAT”

4. Once they ACTUALLY start dating they would literally be inseparable. They would cuddle and kiss and talk 24/7! Even their me-time they both need turns into us-time and is just as effective. They would start to panic if they don’t see each other for more than a DAY. Also their dates would be sooo cute!! No matter whether it would be the cozy queer cafe around the corner or the flashy pureblood dance balls. They would have such a comfy aura and nobody would mind their pda cause they would be so comfortable with each other.

Sometimes they would just spend a day in absolute silence but a COZY COMFY DOMESTIC ONE yk???

Also the “I hate physical touch except for when it’s you” trope!!

5. Just then going to a pride parade together with matching outfits in like their 30s, already married and a bi flag on Reggie’s cheeks and a Pan one on Dora’s and they would be so PROUD.

Or just the courting process in the arranged marriage trope PEAK!!

6. They are love. They are soulmates. They are Stargazer (or Waterbox still unsure bout that one)

This got WAY longer than I originally intended but oh well :)

REGDORA!!! FAIRYSEEKER!!! MY LOVES <33333

you don't understand how much I adore them. I love love love them. they're my everything's <3 my hunnies <3 my sweet little babies <3

okay so, 1. I actually don't mind the name regdora, but yes, it's blant and ugly compared to everything else. personally, I know them as fairyseeker, which is what you can find them under on my blog lmao. stargazer is a GORGEOUS ship name... though I think of regularly every time I hear it lmao

i LOVE the name waterbox. idk why I just adore it

2. yesssssssss!!! istg they have the best troupes (next to bartylily). them as arranged marriage partners sounds so fun. imagine they're just kids when they first meet, and they're told they're supposed to get married when they grow up to combine the rosiers/lestranges

at first, they don't mind (they're tiny and have no idea what being married even means). they start hogwarts, and both realise that they're into their same gender people (once again, i bring up my mtf dora + ftm reg). so both spend a lot of time just convinced they aren't into each other. reg is a lesbian after all, and pandora is gay... then they come out as trans and both are like: oh-

3. grumpy x sunshine is so them omfg

them bith as seers???? Christ. them being so fucking blind is just so fitting. they never even consider that they might like each other

them as oblivious little fuckers so true. they are in deep denial fr. regulus is foaming out the mouth at how pandora is, but it's completely platonic

4. HSEIBSIEBSOENSO YESS OMFG

All they need is each other. they're always together, getting one of them alone is impossible. you can try, and you will fail

that trope is SO them. it's insane

5. they would definitely love their time at a pride parade. they're having the time of their lives and they've been happier

6. I love it when asks go this long. it just sucks because I usually can't add anything on because you guys are just so correct already 😮‍💨

thank you for sharing your brain with me. I appreciate it a lot <3

[frozenjokes]

Mumbomaid (she is writing fanfic) <- could refer to me or mumbo equally

snippet wip below (mumbo uses they/them unless I forget then it’s he/they lmao. Grian is an ‘it’ like god intended)

***

Mumbo had never seen a human before, but this one didn’t look particularly dangerous. Well. They’d keep an eye on it.

Mumbo hissed for good measure, then kept digging through the human’s tools. There was all sorts of great stuff in its dumb, impossible to open bag; shiny sharp things and funny lures (cute!) and what must have been human food (tasted weird, why did they wrap their food in shiny gross stuff?) and bottled water (weird) and there was this awesome floaty thing that Mumbo got a little distracted playing with and other boring stuff like nets and weights and stakes Mumbo had seen thousands of times. But that didn’t mean they weren’t going to take all of this stuff back home with them.

The human was vocally quite unhappy when Mumbo started to take its stuff into the water, scrambling closer to the shore line as Mumbo got farther away. It had been near silent up until this point, but now Mumbo was very aware that humans were some of the noisiest, most annoying animals on the planet. They didn’t pay it much mind, fighting to keep the bag under the water as it seemed determined to float no matter what they did, but the human never stopped yelling, wading in until the water was up to its chest. Mumbo was shocked, turning around and seeing that. Did it even realize how much danger it was in?

Mumbo just couldn’t help himself; letting the bag go meant some of the stuff inside would float out, but he could always just collect it later. He swiveled around and the human finally realized it was in danger, flailing uselessly as it bumbled through the water, but it didn’t get anywhere before Mumbo cut off its escape, his tail curling around its back to keep it from swimming further out.

They swiveled around, the human finally realizing it was in danger at the same moment, but there was nothing it could hope to do before Mumbo blocked its escape, splashing and panicking be damned.

It stilled as Mumbo’s tail touched its back, keeping it gently in place before it tried to swim further out. Its dark eyes were wide and afraid and its breathing was fast and uneven, though it never stopped babbling, only quieter now, as if trying to convince Mumbo it was a good human, that it would stop yelling and being noisy and dumb and would make a very bad meal. Reasonable, all things considered. Mumbo was very much thinking about eating it. It would probably be so loud though, all screaming and panicking and making them feel bad; there was a reason Mumbo didn’t eat much land prey.

They took a moment to look instead, to really take it in. The human was more haggard looking than Mumbo had imagined them to be, with scraggly hair on its head and face as well as its clothes being stained and battered. It also looked a lot less like them than they had expected given how much mers compared the species. Humans were so small and round! Its shoulders were wide and it was so fleshy and pink! Nothing like Mumbo’s own grayer, rougher skin at all. It didn’t even have fins? Land animals didn’t typically, but with all the comparisons being thrown around, Mumbo had expected something! They had similar arms maybe, but only in shape, and honestly, Mumbo’s digits were far longer. And the hair- it wasn’t stiff! It flopped right down when it was wet- what was even the point! With a couple of whistles and clicks, Mumbo attempted to tell the human it should consider having sharper, stiffer hair, because as things were, it clearly had zero natural defenses, but it didn’t seem to understand. Oh well. As much as Mumbo kind of wanted to taste it, they were pretty sure they’d already ruined its day enough. Might as well just let this one go. Maybe now it would know better than to wade into large bodies of water.

(It did not.)

[diabolikpersonals]

aaaaand ruki cl endings!

euphoria end:

In the church, Karl Heinz explains that this was all a test, and when Ruki asks “ok can you please stop the test now” Karl Heinz is like lmao no. show me that you can surpass me first. It might be impossible for Ruki because he’s a former human, but Karl Heinz says he approves of Ruki in a certain way, and he just needs Ruki to show that he’s capable of seeing his plan through…….or else, Karl Heinz will take Eve back.

Ruki tells Karl Heinz he owes him a debt of gratitude but he won’t be doing that. He can’t give up Yui OR turn his blade against Karl Heinz. Karl Heinz is like “awww, that’s cute, but check this out” and there’s this terrible magic sound and blood splatters across the screen and Ruki’s like “GUAAAGAGHHH” and I’m thinking “oh no did I actually get the bad end???” and Karl Heinz is like “pick up your sword, pussy” (he doesnt say that last part)

Ruki stands up, all covered in blood, and says that he probably isn’t the right person for Yui. He messed up Karl Heinz’s plans too. But he still doesn’t wanna let her go ;-; um, but he still doesn’t want to fight Karl Heinz, so Karl Heinz is like “die like a dog then” and blasts him. He tells Yui he’ll let Ruki live if she comes with him. He wrecks Ruki’s shit a third time and I imagine he is a blood stain on the floor at this point.

Yui’s about to say she’ll go with Karl Heinz, but Ruki stands up (?! what a trooper) and hugs her. He wants to stay with her to the very end ;-; He thanks her for choosing him, and Yui says there’s nothing to thank her for, she just fell in love with him, simple as that. They kiss and it tastes like Ruki’s blood.

………but again, if you’ve seen some other endings, you know where this is going, right? Kissing in the church is actually the key to leaving this place, so the whole world disappears into whiteness. They wake up in that room in Eden and all of Ruki’s injuries are gone. Karl Heinz is like lol congratulations!! Since Ruki and Yui chose each other in the face of death, they’ve proven their love is real. He’s like “Well, I really thought it would be one of my sons, but the future is full of surprises. peace!” and he disappears..,, giving me no time to strangle him

Anyway we go back to our regular lives. Kino is still a mystery. I imagine Shin acts awkward every time he sees Ruki from now on. We see a nice, familiar scene of the Mukamis being rowdy at dinnertime. Yuma suggests rukiyui should just get married already. Ruki absolutely intends to do that, so kou’s like “whoaaaaa okay this is getting steamy, let’s leave” lmao. When they’re alone, Ruki tells Yui he no longer has any doubts or hesitations about loving her. Before this, he thought he could just keep running away, but now he feels like he can stand his ground and face people like Karl Heinz, and defend the fact that he loves her.

labyrinth end:

Ruki kept Yui to himself even though he didn’t have the qualities to become Adam, and that’s basically betraying Karl Heinz. He’d rather run away with her than face this fact. Karl Heinz lets him run and he’s like “fine, run forever. you can stay here till you make a new choice.”

While they’re running, Yui wakes up in the church again. She’s right back where she started, and Reiji, Kou, Laito, and Ayato are there too. oh my god did I just get timelooped???? tell me I got timelooped

Yui basically plays the general prologue again and chooses the Orange house in hopes of meeting Ruki. He’s there, but he doesn’t remember her anymore!! we totally got timelooped!!! fuck!!!!

Back in Eden, Karl Heinz is talking to himself and he says he’ll rewind this story as many times as it takes for Ruki to figure his shit out. But we gotta do this quick, because the soul can only handle so many repetitions before it breaks down.

Ruki (memoryless) stabs Yuma in the heart and kills him, then the shock gives him his memory back and he freaks out. Yui wakes up in the church AGAIN. The church bells ring AGAIN. She STARTS OVER.

And so it repeats over and over. Sometimes they make progress, sometimes Ruki kills his brothers, sometimes Yui dies. Ruki starts having dreams about past iterations; nightmares where he stabs Yuma’s heart and cuts Kou and Azusa to pieces. His hands feel like they’ve really done it. She tells him it’s all a bad dream and hugs him, but he says “This time you’ll be killed. I don’t know how, but I can see it.” Then he’ll take his sword and kill himself too.

Yui screams no, it’s just a bad dream!! And she hopes she wakes up soon ;-;;;;;

[fcknstar]

,, the daily call "

- harryosborn x reader x peterparker

a.n : jokes on me i forgot to post ehhh, im gonna write for other characters, so probably a lil break from harry, but he will come back for sure. i actually didnt know how to title this because i actually imagined this shit out lmao.

warnings : none?

**lowercase intended**

walking through the busy streets of new york, you made sure not to spill the coffee you got harry on yourself or others. harry was currently on call with you asking about your whereabouts.

" ehh, i think im about 5 minutes away? but you know, may take longer. gosh will people ever just move? " your last sentence made harry laugh. harry loved your nasty and sarcastic comments you made that could be aimed to literally anyone.

" alright, just be safe okay? i dont want to get called knowing you got hurt or something. ill be waiting in the office. " harry sighed, not wanting anything happening to you knowing how clumsy you are.

" i wont- uff " as you rounded the corner, you bumped your face flat onto a chest. you were balancing your phone in between your head and shoulders, and due to the impact your phone dropped.

as you were about to pick it up and apologize to the unknown person, you saw a spiderweb sling across you and landed on your phone, flying towards someone. looking up, you saw peter.

" peter? " you breathed, opening your hand for him to place the your phone back into your hand. you were glad that you managed to save the coffee, knowing how devastated you would be if you didnt hold it tight enough.

" thats me! oh, uh. harry? scary guy isnt he? i wish you luck " winking towards you, both of you clearly knowing who harry is to peter ; his best friend. placing the phone back onto your hand, he watched you talk to harry. peter has always been your best friend. well both harry and peter. peter lasted with you longer as harry left early to boarding school, leaving you and peter alone. having you to himself, peter realized that he felt more than just platonic love. after spilling a secret about him being spiderman, he felt closer to you than ever. he would always stop by your apartment to get himself cleaned up.

watching you work on his injuries made him feel loved. how you would gently touch his skin, check whether he felt okay, whether it hurts. how you would nag for hours about being safe, how you dearly cared about him. that was when he started feeling tingly, it took him a few days to adjust to it. he tried to not make it obvious, completely unaware about how you felt about peter. but to his luck you felt the same way. you both were more than friends with benefits but not labeled as together yet.

" sorry harry, i gotta go. yes ill see you there, bye " your hand that held the coffee merely escaped peters grasp when he tried to grab it, teasingly thinking it was for him. you and harry had a habit of calling each other and making sure if one another is safe, of course it all stopped after he left. now that hes back, he expected the same. i mean he did get calls from you every morning, but youd never hung up on him, ever. so if saying that it hurt harry by abit was an understatement. harry liked you a lot. since young. he tried forgetting about you but pictures of you both flooded his phone and mind. seeing you smile in pictures pasted around his dorm room warmed him. it felt as it you were still there with him, not that you were dead, but he cut off connections with his friends in new york, which included you.

harry loved every hug you gave him, he enjoyed the little moments you gave him that he couldnt have in boarding school. of course there were girls in school who tried to be close to him, but he didnt budge.

hanging up, you shook your head. " no, thats for the sir up there " pointing towards the tall building to your right. peter leaned forward, pressing a kiss onto your lips. pulling away, showing how late you were, laughing. peters lips followed after you, indicating how 'needy' he was.

sighing, you pressed a kiss, feeling a smile appear on peters features, making you smile too.

" alright, alright lover boy, i have to go " you slapped his cheeks teasingly, making peter chuckle.

when you got to harrys office, you saw him playing with his bouncy ball that you got him as a replacement when he lost his.

" harry, sorry for hanging up, i had some things going- " you havent finished your sentence when harry stopped you.

" its whatever. " you could tell harry was mad. walking towards him with his coffee, you swung it softly infront of him hoping hed accept it.

not being able to resist you, he gave in. " thank you. " he smiled when the taste of his favorite coffee hit his tongue.

what you didnt know was that he saw every bit of the little interaction you had with peter. including the spiderweb stunt.

[piosplayhouse]

oh my god. I'm sorry for sending all these asks lmao you never have to read or post them I just gotta. I connected my su she thoughts to the interaction in svsss that made me think them initially, so this is about Ming Fan, and not Su She. When Shen yuan is outside of the book, like us, it's fine to look at the cannon fodder characters and to know they are cannon fodder. characters are not people, they can't be mistreated like people, etc. but when he's IN the story, he stops (relatively gradually) interacting with the characters As characters and starts interacting with them as people. Not roles in a narrative, but complex, and with potentiality. (It takes him longer to do it with Lbh but that's something else). Characters, when viewed from the outside, by us, are cogs in a machine that we can project on and play with, but they are cogs and they are fixed. When viewed from the inside, they become moving, living creatures, with an unknown future, agentivity, etc. What Bothers Me Then, about Su She, and was highlighted by Shen Qingqiu having empathy for Ming Fan, is that often times, characters from within the narrative look at him (su she) like they're outside of it. They Know he's cannon fodder. They Know he can be punished without consequences, They Know he's never gonna be good for anything else and never had anything good to say. And they're right, and the story will reward them for knowing. This isn't about Su She or Ming Fan being complex or being more than just evil. (Ming Fan gets to veer of course precisely because that gaze on him changes, which I suppose might be the point of svsss). Su She can be garbage fire if the story requires it. He can be trash man. It's fine. It's about other characters within the same story treating him like they're the readers or the author, and Knowing that he's nothing but bad, or cannon fodder. You can know what's going on in your story, but your characters should not know what's going on in the real world (unless you're being subversive). There, I got it. Now I'm gonna leave your ask box alone, thank you for your patience lmaoo

I AM SO SORRY I DIDNT PUBLISH THIS EARLIER AHH ITS SO GOOD

Do not dare be ashamed of putting this in my askbox the meta girlies are gonna love this one i swear

Personally I think you brought up a lot of good points and really made me think about something I've never considered before. Imo where Ming Fan is positioned as canon fodder from a narrative standpoint, Su She takes on that role less out of necessity and more as a side effect of Wei Wuxian's idrc perspective on life-- wwx doesn't see Su She as canon fodder because he doesn't see him at all, he's neutral in wwx's story because he's non-existent in his memory. Where Ming Fan is static in that he's a trope, Su She is static in that he's sort of one of the classmates you had in high school that you might just barely be able to remember if you heard his name at a class reunion or something. Where your thoughts come in is how this intersects with fandom I think-- because there's all that blank space there, fans fill in the gaps with what they think Su She should be, which defaults more often than not to a character egregious enough to be justifiably disregarded by the main character. Obviously not saying Su She is intended to be good, but I do feel like there is like . An unconscious protagonism atmosphere that makes people eager to assign side characters tropey antagonistic or protagonistic roles in the main character's life that does permeate a lot of mdzs fandom. So full circle back to scum villain and Ming Fan becoming the school bully(tm) and only that of binghe's life! Hahaha this is so fun

Thank you for your thoughts as always wise anon 🥰♥️ everyone feel free to leave your comments as well but remember to be extra nice because I already fucked up posting this like a month after it was sent so we have to make it up to anon!!!!!!

[sixtysixproblems]

i gotta know more about Force Ghost Fives AU/Sithbusters, the title alone is calling my name

(future rory edit: this ramble answer was longer than intended but oh well!)

ok ok ok ok so basically (shoves chemistry homework off table) fives is a ghost (wow, shocker), but the only one who can see/talk to him is Fox. this poses several problems right out of the gate as you've likely guessed lmao.

aside from the obvious ones, Fox is uh. somewhat resistant bc at first he's like "what sort of obnoxious guilt-induced hallucination is this" and fives, not having the whole picture and also you know, recently got killed by this guy, is not super inclined to work with him. so a lot of the first couple chapters is fives a) trying to come to terms with "what the fuck im a ghost", b) trying to find some sort of work around to this where he gets to commit treason from beyond the veil just without working with That Guy.

also, ponds is also a ghost! because i'm incapable of being normal about him! however i have actual plot reasons because:

a) i needed someone for fives to talk to who wasn't fox for like, basic writing purposes

b) common sense and someone with a vested interest in fives actually talking to fox that goes beyond just trying to save the world

c) someone to explain some of the force ghost basics so i dont have to devote a ton of chapters JUST to Fives fucking around an finding out, though there will be plenty of that.

fives still has to fuck around and find out at points because, unlike ponds, he's force sensitive in this AU and as a result has more powers/abilities (for lack of a better word) than ponds does. so fairly quickly ponds goes from "yeah that's how so and so works" to "what the fuck how are you doing that" lmao. ponds may have a similar situation with boba that fives has with fox, in that boba is the only living person he can talk to/interact with. something something boba & fox are both brothers to ponds/fives and both technically responsible for ponds/fives's deaths, but weren't ultimately the people pulling the strings in the situation :/

this seems like a work around to Fives for a while, but they'll eventually hit a dead end bc a feral teenager with little to no contact with the clones (outside of two dead ones) has significantly less knowledge and resources than, you know, the marshall commander of the coruscant guard. also boba refuses to interact with jedi or anyone ponds knew (particularly his batch & rex), i cant imagine why, which complicates things.

characters that'll also probably show up/have some important roles: ahsoka, rex for obvious reasons, anakin for obvious reasons, mayyybe Qui Gon?, and possibly yoda because yoda is yoda and canonically has more knowledge about ghost fuckery than the other jedi at this point.

i think fives will eventually sort out how to talk to some other people, though likely not as easily/well as with fox, but probably only after him and fox have already started working together. a very likely candidate for this is ahsoka and/or cody, since i'm strongly considering having Cody be force sensitive to an extent as well in this. Bly's also a possibility, tho much less likely, because i think i also hint at him being at least a little forced touched as well (there's a scene in my head where he gets told about everything and fives & ponds being ghosts and goes "yeah that checks out" lmao). Anakin also probably gets haunted because he's the chosen one and etc.

I know Fox lives, though uhhh that was debated for a while. to my knowledge it's gonna be a fairly clean fix-it-fic without any other casualties, since i do want it to have plenty of chaos/humor sprinkled throughout, though that could change and a side character or smth could be sacrificed. i really want to end this with an unrealistic happy ending in regard to at least Fives (ponds would probably be too much of a stretch narrative and plot/world wise, RIP), but trying to come up with some way to bring him back to life might be too conveluted/break stws canon too much... :/ we'll see. plus i know the bittersweet option is probably better writing but...man, i like my happy endings and i like fives living, damnit! lmfao. soooo we'll see what ends up happening.

[reasonablerodents]

prompts: angst Oscar Wilde green carnation hanahaki AU for because he's still deep in the closet :">

and having an embarrassing crush on [your pick]

OKAY SO. As you know, I���m completely insane about Oscar Wilde and the second I saw this prompt I SCREAMED. So perfect for me and I am so glad I got to write this!!!

Anyway, 750 words later, it’s here! Only 7.5x the number I originally planned on making all of these lmao. Duty calls. (The duty is angst and Oscar Wilde)

I think this can be read romantically or platonically, as it’s mostly just focused on Hotch and his feelings. And boy does that man have lots of repressed feelings.

The Love That Dare Not Speak Its Name

Aaron Hotchner + Spencer Reid, Hanahaki, Repression

CW: Illness (coughing/retching, no actual emeto), Internalised Homophobia

* * * * * * * * * * *

When he coughs up the first bud, he’s not sure what it is. Well, he knows it’s a flower, obviously, but it could mean anything, since he can’t see the petals yet.

It’s fine, though. There’s nothing wrong with him if he doesn’t think about it.

The next few he coughs into a sink in Connecticut. The buds have opened now, and he can clearly see the jagged edges of carnations. He’s used to seeing carnations that are pink, red, or white, but these are different from any cheap grocery store bouquet. They’re a pale green, darkening slightly in the middle of the flower. They’d be beautiful if they hadn’t just come from inside of him.

He thinks that it might be something to do with the divorce- jealousy, perhaps, the green-eyed monster? He doesn’t know why that would be, though, as he doesn’t feel jealous of Haley. It’s not like she’s been cheating, she just wants to leave. He can’t blame her.

It must be because of something else.

It might be because of that.

He hopes it’s not because of that.

Hotch knows that Reid would instantly know what green carnations mean, but that would involve telling him. He can’t say that he particularly wants to show that kind of weakness in front of one of his team members, so he won’t. And besides, if it turns out it’s because he might be- no, it’s not because of that. He can’t be. He’s been married for too long for it to be that.

Hotch isn’t going to be married for much longer, though. And one of the reasons is their nonexistent sex life.

He’s definitely not going to ask Reid about it. He doesn’t even want to look it up, because if the meaning is confirmed, that means he’s got to confront it. Hotch had always preferred to ignore any uncomfortable truths. It had never done him much good, but it was certainly easier.

As soon as they get out of that cell with Hardwick, Hotch finds himself excusing himself to the bathroom as his chest burns. This time, he locks himself in a stall whilst he coughs and chokes. There are far more carnations than before; their green petals fill the toilet bowl like some kind of modern art piece, delicate and disgusting.

He must have been in there for far longer than he’d thought, because there’s a knock on the stall door.

“Hotch? Are you alright?”

He doesn’t want Reid to see him like this. They’ve already been through enough today. He’s about to reply, tell him that he’s fine, but then he starts coughing so violently he gags.

Another knock, this time louder, more urgent. “Hotch, what’s going on? Please, just let me in.

“No,” Hotch manages to choke out, just before he starts retching, eyes streaming with tears. More flowers, so pretty as they fall from his lips. Like petals thrown at a wedding.

“I’ll crawl under the gap if I have to,” Reid says, and that’s the thing that makes Hotch finally unlock the door, throwing an arm behind him as he coughs up another stream of carnations.

“Is it food poisoning? I wasn’t sure about the hotel restaurant, we should have- oh.”

He squats down beside Hotch, studying the contents of the toilet bowl. “Green carnations.”

“I know they are, Reid.” He doesn’t intend to sound as angry as he does, but everything hurts and he’s crying and Reid’s going to tell him what they symbolise and he doesn’t want to know.

Although, he’s pretty sure he knows already, even if he doesn’t want to think about it too much.

“You understand, don’t you? What they mean?”

Hotch coughs. “I expect you’re going to- going to tell me either way.”

Reid doesn’t notice the ire in his tone, or if he does, it doesn’t seem to bother him. “They mean different things in different cultures- but there’s only one meaning I think would be applicable here.”

“Stop it,” Hotch groans, but his throat is so sore it doesn’t even sound like words any more.

“In 1892, at the premiere of Lady Windermere’s Fan, Oscar Wilde told his friends to wear green carnations. It was a symbol to be able to identify each other- not just as his friends, although I’m sure saying ‘Friend of Wilde’ would have been similar to saying ‘Friend of Dorothy’ later on.”

“Stop it.”

It’s a little louder this time, but Reid’s too far into his explanation to notice.

“It was an idea adopted from Paris. It was a secret code for gay men, Hotch.”

Another flower floats down into the toilet bowl.

[vaguely-concerned]

A post-Inquisition comic about Hawke coming home, because my heart has been aching since 2014 and I needed some catharsis at long last haha. I drew most of this over Christmas but I never intended it to become a longer thing as I was doing the first page, which is why Hawke's outfit changes completely after that. Huge plus of drawing with a ballpoint pen: forces you into an anti-perfectionist YOLO whatever-happens-happens mindstate, since once you've put the mark down on the page you just have to live with it. Huge drawback of drawing with a ballpoint pen: once you've put the mark down on the page you just have to live with it. Ah well, c'est la vie

Transcript of the dialogue under the cut/some corrections, because some of it got lost along the way to digital or fell victim to my terrible handwriting, and in some places I changed my mind about the wording but as previously mentioned: ballpoint pen and all that entails lmao

Merrill: Varric said you tried to stay behind in the Fade.

Hawke: Yeah, well, there’s some BIG potential in the housing market in there. Could’ve made a killing. Alas, it was not to be. 

Merrill: Hawke, I — I don’t think you understand what you mean to us. Or… or if you do, I don’t understand how you could still think — how you could act as if…

Hawke: …As if?

Merrill: As if you don’t MATTER!

Merrill: We would follow you anywhere, if only you’d let us. You have to know that.

Hawke: Yes, I know. I think that might be part of the problem. Maybe you guys should upgrade your standards for who to follow from ‘the first and best person in the group with any sense of direction’. 

Merrill: To guide those who are lost is an act of hellathen — a noble struggle. There is no shame in it. 

Hawke: There is when what you’re most likely to lead them to is grim and painful doom. I seem to have an unfortunate trend on my hands. If one is to be regarded as misfortune and two starts to look like carelessness, I shudder to think what I’ve been up to. 

Merrill: Is that why you sent us away?

Hawke: I never — 

Merrill: Hawke, you are wonderfully clever in so many ways, but please don’t act as if I do not know you. 

Hawke: It… was my responsibility. 

Merrill: Was it?

Hawke: My fault, certainly. 

Merrill: We were there when you found Corypheus too, you know. And we couldn’t stop it either. Does that make it our guilt as well?

Hawke: It’s not the same.

Merrill: Isn’t it? Do you think Bethany’s to blame as well, through blood alone?

Hawke: HAH! No, I don’t. And it’s very unkind of you to call me out on it, by the way. Rude. 

Merrill: I do know you pretty well by now.

Hawke: You do. 

Hawke: It wasn’t about that, anyway. Not really. It was good old-fashioned run-of-the-mill cowardice. 

Merrill: I don’t believe that.

Hawke: It was. It had already been on my mind, but as that demon spoke I could no longer pretend… I couldn’t ignore anymore that… 

Merrill: …Hawke?

Hawke: …that I would rather die than have to see another one of you — to have to bury one more — to fail you all yet ag—... I can’t…I can’t. 

Merrill: Oh, Hawke. I’m so sorry. 

Hawke: I can’t lead anyone anywhere, Merrill. I’m lost too. 

Merrill: I know. I know. We all are. But —

Merrill: But you gave us the gift of not having to walk that path alone. When there was no other shelter in this world, you gave us a home. Please, lethallin, let us give the same to you. You don’t have to lead to anywhere. Just allow us to walk beside you. It pains me to think of you all alone. 

You know, I, um — I still have that ball of twine Varric gave me. We could share it, if you want. 

Hawke: That’d be great, Merrill. Thank you. 

Merrill: I missed you so much. All of you. 

Hawke: Even Fenris?

Merrill: Even Fenris. And his scowl. 

Hawke: …I missed you too. Ah! That reminds me — I’ve got something for you! A gift.

Merrill: Oh, you didn’t have to — 

Hawke: Take it as an apology for all the Wintersend presents I missed while I was away. 

Merrill: A feather? Ma serannas, lethallin, it’s lovely! I’ve never seen one like this, what kind of bird is it from? Hm. It’s so big… This is going to sound so silly, but if I didn’t know any better I would have almost though it was from a griff — 

…a griff…

…a…???!! :D

Hawke: Don’t worry, I’ll explain everything. Well. What tiny part of everything I actually understood, anyway. …I’m sorry, Merrill. I’m back now, I promise. And you would have made a much better Keeper than you give yourself credit for. Let’s go home. 

Merrill: Oh, yes, let’s! Varric let everyone know, so Aveline should be waiting outside the city, and Isabela said she’d pick up Fenris once her ship is ready again, and — and please tell me about the griffons, lethallin, I am dying to know!

(please imagine Hawke doing a frighteningly good 'no shit there I was' Varric impression and then explaining whatever the fuck went down at Weisshaupt here, THE END)

Also some clarifications: Hawke did not kill Anders, he just feels extremely bad about and responsible for everything at all times (he asked Anders to leave and sided with the mages), and Hawke has been travelling with (Circle) Bethany the whole time since Weisshaupt, so that's why Merrill doesn't mention her. She Is Okay, Baby Sister Safe and Accounted For, please do not worry.