#half sour pickles

[usnatarchives]

Office of War Information WW2 poster, NARA ID 515098.

#National (Patriotic) PICKLE Day! By Miriam Kleiman, Public Affairs, half-sour fan

Fun fact about the National Archives and PICKLES! Our DC Building stands on the site of DC’s Center Market---and pickle stand! 

Department of Agriculture, undated, NARA ID 5928150.

Feds plead: “MAKE MORE SOURS AND DILLS!

Q: WHY did the federal government urge patriotic Americans to eat sour dill pickles during World War I?

A: Americans were asked to sacrifice staple items for the war effort, and sugar was the first to be rationed. Pickle manufacturers and American consumers alike were urged to switch from sweet pickles to sour and dill ones.

Sour pickles are PATRIOTIC!

FDA WWI record 1917, NARA ID 20762196

Letter from Food Administration to Onalaska (WI) Pickle and Canning Co. 6/22/1918, NARA ID 20762197.

FDA World War I poster, NARA ID 512543.

Interested in more federal records about food?  Check out our wonderful online exhibit, “What’s Cooking Uncle Sam,” to learn: 

What’s “Exploding ketchup”?

Why were some government volunteers called the “Poison Squad”?

How can donuts improve morale?

What was Queen Elizabeth’s recipe for scones?

[henclair]

i need everyone to understand how much i am enamored with my homemade vinegar less half sour refrigerator pickles. they are my beloveds.

my first batch on the left was too salty cuz the recipe is for a bigger jar and the salt/garlic to other seasonings ratio was wrong. my second batch on the right is still pickling; i put about 2/3 of the salt and 2/3 of the garlic the recipe calls for and they’re so good i want to cry

[jar0fhoney]

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 (NSFW) - PART 4 - PART 5 (NSFW)

Your family did fine. You were more comfortable than some, but not so comfortable that you could sit idle. The crops had started to bud, and the shop was filled with all manner of pickled vegetables, fresh eggs, and flowers. You counted the coppers and silvers in the little lock box under the counter. Business was the same as usual, but your brow still furrowed.

Mother was getting tired. The decades of tilling, sowing, reaping, and harvesting had started to toll on her. Especially after your father left. The bastard. Your mother labored at home with an aching back and bad knees. Before long the crops would flourish and need tending. It was more than enough work for two, unfathomable for just you alone.

Jeering came from outside the shop. A band of orc hunters with their catches. They were a threatening bunch. Hard and strong. One orc could have the strength of two men. In the great cities they faced more discrimination, but out here someone either hunted for their meat, or payed other people to do the hunting for them. And the orcs… they were masterful at what they did. And so they were welcomed.

The rusted hinges of your shop door creaked. “Did you miss me?”

Any desire to feign positivity drained from your person. You didn’t even try to hide the sour look on your face. Milo was a repugnant leech that had been stalking your family for years. He had tried courting each one of your elder sisters, losing them each time to men better than him. And now you were the last sister on the list. Unmarried. And running out of time. The latter fact he was quite aware of.

”How is Celina?” You never liked how he called your mother by her first name. It was too familiar. You don’t bother to look up from your coin counting. “My Mother’s wellbeing is none of your concern.” Milo sauntered up to the counter, “y/n-“

You slammed your fist, sending a few coins into the air. “When will you get the idea that my family wants nothing to do with you?” You still couldn’t look him in the eye. He sighed, picking up one of the coppers from the floor, “You would rather your mother toil in the field? You would rather surrender yourself to the life of a shopkeep? It’s a waste.”

You had no answer for him. Because he was right to question your choices. Yes you truly enjoyed running the family shop, but you couldn’t possibly keep this up for long without your mother. She deserved peace and rest. But he was just… a nuisance at best. Frightening at worst. His family owned half the town, and how easy it would be for them to blacklist you and your mother from ever doing business in their marketplace again.

”Anyways…” He dropped the coin down onto your counter with a clank, “Winter will come. And will you be prepared? If your mother cannot help you work the fields…”

”Are you trying to give me an ultimatum?” You had pushed the idea of next winter out of your head the second the ice started to melt. But he was right, what would you do? He didn’t entertain your question with a response. No… it wasn’t an ultimatum. It was a threat. A threat that when winter came you would get what was coming to you. He made his way out the door, the rusty hinges screeching. “You should really fix that.” He gave a nasty grin and let the door slam behind him.

You pushed all the thoughts of worry from your head. It was something you had grown skilled at doing. Gods be damned if you let him spoil such a lovely morning. You threw the windows of the shop open, arranging bouquets from your flower garden for the street to see.

At night when you and your mother pray over dinner, you beg anyone listening for an eternal spring.

~

Two weeks pass uneventfully. You sell many bouquets of flowers to well-to-do ladies, and your mother’s special pickled red onions fly off the shelves as usual. In the early morning you sit counting your coins, listening to the soft bustling of the market just beginning to wake up.

”You know you can pickle these eggs right?”

You keep your eyes trained on the coins, trying not to lose count. There is a long pause, but you can tell the man hasn’t walked away, “We don’t sell any here.”

“You should.” You raise your head to cock an eyebrow at him. You try to stifle a gasp from your chest. An orc man with olive green skin is leaned slightly through the window of your shop. You had never had an orc approach your little shop. They always had bigger and better things to sell and buy.

”We don’t sell those here.” A more rational person would have thought twice before talking back to an orc hunter. But you were tired of men questioning you. A young lady entered the shop, eyeing the orc man still leaning on your window sill. The door squealed unpleasantly, cutting through the tension like a knife. “Fine,” The orc smirked and shrugged, exiting your window.

~

The next day, there was a basket waiting for you on your shop’s doorstep. You groan. This wouldn’t be the first time Milo left gifts for you to find. You take a peek into the bracket and… what was this? Spices? Salt? Garlic cloves? Underneath the goods were two silver coins.

You yelped at the sound of fingers rapping against the window pane. You reeled around expecting Milo. But… it was the orc man. The orc man from the day before. He pointed at the little latch holding the window closed. You were sure he could punch his way right through the window if he really wanted in. “I don’t want any trouble!” You yelled at him through the window.

Another smirk crept onto his face, “I bring no trouble with me, Miss. I just thought you might like a chance to make some more coin.”

What this lecherous orc seriously propositioning you for pay? Before he could say another thing, you hurled an egg at him. You hoped it would have just broken against the window to frighten him off. But to your horror it crashed through the glass, making a direct impact with his face. “Fuck!” You heard him fall on his ass in the street.

You rushed to the window. The orc was splayed out on the cobblestones, his forehead bleeding from the broken glass. He lay motionless, and you started to panic. Oh Gods. Oh Gods no. You just assaulted an orc. A big strong orc man who kills things for his living. Not even Milo or his family’s status could protect you from the wrath of an angry orc. You threw open the screeching rusted front door. Oh gods he was huge. He knew where you worked. He could follow you home. What if he brought his fellow huntsmen with him? What if they hurt your mother as well?

You couldn’t stop any of the thoughts racing through your head. You were worried about making it through winter… now you might not even make it through the summer. You bit down on your fist, trying to keep composure.

”Got a hell of an arm…” The orc grunted, pulling you out of your trance. He sat himself up, bringing his fingers to the drops of blood running down his temple. “Ha!” He guffawed and made his way to stand up.

”Please… please.” You weren’t sure if you were praying to a high power or pleading to him. His eyes met yours but there was no rage, or fury. There was a look of annoyance, maybe a bit of mild amusement. Rubbing his hand over the back of his neck he said, “Miss. I only meant… you should make pickled eggs. There are a lot of orc boys out here far from the motherland. They would pay a premium for a taste of home.”

You were nearly speechless, “I- I don’t know how orcs prefer their pickled eggs-

“That basket has everything you need.”

“Oh… okay. Very well. Sir.” Your voice wavered and he could see how clearly frightened you were.

The orc groaned, wiping more blood off his face. “Sorry about this. See you around.” You hoped that wasn’t a threat, but with that he jogged his way down the street.

Blasted pickled eggs.

[2chopsticks2eyes]

Well Shit

2chopsticks2eyes - Masterlist

Pairing: Lee Minho/Lee Know x Fem Reader

Themes: Smut, Angst, Fluff

Word Count: ~30k | AO3

Warnings: Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Alcohol, Cussing, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Alternate Universe, Vaginal Sex, Protected Sex, Unprotected Sex, Friends With Benefits

Summary: Your ex is a cheating bastard who had been your only experience with sex (which he was absolute shit at). Getting back into the dating game was not what you expected, so your older brother's annoying best friend, Minho, decided to offer to show you the ropes on what it's like to have actual good sex.

Author's Note: This work was inspired by a request from @kyungpenguin33. This took longer than I expected because life hit me like a truck for a while. But hopefully, nothing slows me down for the next fic I have in store!

__________________________________________

“He didn’t even fucking deserve you anyway! You’re too good for a guy that constantly smells like pickles and dick cheese.” Your best friend Tiffany blatantly carped as she sprawled out on your bed while mindlessly scrolling away on her phone.

You had just recently broken up with your boyfriend of three years and for some goddamned reason, Tiffany had to bring up the topic constantly. Apparently, once you get to college, boys decide they want the next, new thing. You just wished he would have ended things with you before he started fucking half of the ‘sorostitutes’ that were willing to open their legs for him.

You felt like a jug of milk. What was once a refreshing, healthy relationship, started to slowly become sour and curdled. You thought you two were in love, hence the long-lasting relationship, but you guess he saw the expiration date before you did.

It had been about a month since you ended things with him, yet here Tiffany was, rambling on and on about how she always knew your relationship ‘was doomed to fail’ and ‘emotionally toxic’. You couldn’t help but wonder, if she ‘always’ knew that, why did she never say anything to you about it? Why did she constantly fawn over him? Why did she feel the need to whine about how she was ‘so jealous of you for snatching him’?

Now, you loved Tiffany, you did. She was always there for you when no one else was. Even if she mostly acted as if you were a child and considered herself your influencer. You learned to look over it because, whatever she did, she did it out of love, right?

That’s what led you to invite her over to your house, well, more like your family’s house because who the fuck can afford to live alone on campus as a broke college student these days? 

Anyway, you were currently laying down on your stomach on the plush carpet of your floor with oodles of papers and textbooks spread around you while Tiffany, still on your bed, continued to berate you with nonsensical chatter.

“I knew he was a bad apple from the start, but I didn’t say anything because I wanted to be a good friend and be supportive of you. And now what? This is where it got you.” 

You rolled your eyes and slumped your head down into your hands. “I get it, Tiff. I should have seen this coming. But I’ve moved on now…” You were… partially telling the truth. “...and so should you. I’m glad you care about me, but I don’t even want to think about that douchebag ever again.”

She lowered her phone and raised an eyebrow at you that silently screamed ‘uh-huh suuuure’, then she sighed deeply and returned to her mindless scrolling with a ‘higher-than-thou’ look on her face.

“Tiff, didn’t you come here to study with me? We have finals in two weeks and a paper due in economics tomorrow.” You said while assessing her lax composure. 

“Oh, I’ve already gotten that taken care of. You really need to stay on top of that kind of stuff, ya know? Or else the next three years of your undergrad is going to be a disasteeeer~! Not to mention veterinary school after that!” 

You scoffed and returned your attention to the mounds of work around you. Here we go again with the whole ‘I’m more mature than you’ act. It’s true that you really needed to pick up the slack, but you also knew that Tiffany was only at a marginally passing grade. She always half-assed her work.

The sound of a phone buzzing pulled your attention and you looked up to see Tiffany putting her phone up to her ear. “Heeey baby! What’s up?” You internally cringed from her zero to sixty babygirl voice. “Right now? Yeah! Totally free!..... Uh-huh….. Of cooourse….. Kay kay! Be there in a jiff! Love ya babe! B-byyyeeee.” You wanted to gag but quickly composed yourself when she returned her focus to you, sitting up from the bed as she spoke. “Jay’s wanting to go out tonight so I’mma bouce!”

You wanted to say ‘why did you tell him you were free if you were obviously here for me?’ But you decided to just let it go. You weakly nodded your head. “Kay, have fun.” 

“Oh you know I will.” She said in a suggestive tone. She basically skipped away but stopped with her hand on your bedroom door handle. She turned back to you with a brazen smile. “Like, I know we’ve only been dating for, like, a week, but my god that man is way better in bed than my last boyfriend was.” She spoke quietly as if someone would hear her gossiping in this completely empty house.

“Who, David?” You engaged ruefully, not quite sure which poor soul you friend was preying on this time.

“No, silly! It’s Mark! David was the one I dated before Chad and Chad was the one before Mark.” She giggled bubbly.

You chuckled. “Man, you really know how to pick ‘em, huh?”

She rolled her eyes and looked at you pitifully. “I can’t help it that I have standards that these guys can’t live up to!” She released the doorknob momentarily and began to look quizzical. “Now that I think about it, maybe I could hook you up with Jackson! He was one of the better ones!” She declared jovially while pulling out her phone again. “Plus, someone needs to show you what a good fuck is like now that your previous old scrotum has moved on…” She rambled as she searched through her phone.

You sprung up from the floor like lightning and rushed over to her. “Nononono, Tiff. No matchmaking, please. Especially not with your sloppy seconds!” You pleaded while holding her arm pathetically.

“Too late, love! Already sent your number to him! You’ll thank me later, trust me.” She winked at you and gave you a peck on the cheek. “Love ya lots! Lemme know what he says!” When she turned to the door and opened it, both of you were startled out of your skin to see a man with sandy blonde hair holding his hand up as if he was about to knock on the aforementioned bedroom door that was now wide open.

Lee Minho.

Why this motherfucking bane of your existence was here, knocking on your door, you didn’t know. But your focus was shifted by the bubbly giggle of your best friend. “Oh my god, Minho! I didn’t know you were here! Why didn’t you come and say hi to me??” Her exuberant voice rang loudly.

Your best friend was a serial flirt and everyone knew this, but it still pained you to watch it unfold firsthand anyway. Especially to the man she knew to be a close family friend.

“Uhhh, actually I came here to see your friend.” He awkwardly stated before he turned to you with a big, annoyingly cocky smirk. “Hey there, kitten.”

You just grumbled and pushed past him and grabbed Tiffany’s arm to see her out. 

As you two retreated, Tiffany hollered over her shoulder to him. “I hope we’ll cross paths on campus later! Bye, Minho!” You heard Minho reply with a faint ‘bye’ as you ushered her out with a quick hug goodbye.

Now, here's the thing you need to know about Minho, you don’t hate the guy, you just find his existence to be extremely annoying.

Lee Minho was your two-year-older brother’s best friend since you were in middle school. For as long as you could remember, Minho was a constant visitor at your house. He was always treated like family by your parents and that had never changed over the years. However, when your brother decided to study abroad and Minho wanted to stay at home and go to the nearby community college, you figured he would slowly drift away.

Nope. Why would you think such a thing? You already knew it was his life goal to be a pain in the ass.

That motherfucker would come to your place weekly, almost even several times a week, just to hang out with your family. For some reason, you were the only one who found it weird because your parent’s welcomed him with open arms like he was a part of the family. Even going as far as giving him the key code to the house! It wasn’t like he had a bad relationship with his parents or anything, he had a wonderful family! Which just made it more annoying when he would come around.

You couldn’t really figure out just why he got under your skin so much, he just did.

Which is why, when you shut the front door behind you and turned back inside to see a smug grin stretched across his unreasonably handsome face, you felt the urge to just go ahead and punch the pretty off of it. “Mom and Dad are out of town right now. You’ll have to come back next week to annoy me.” You said scathingly as you marched back to your room.

You could already feel yourself tense up when he turned to follow you. “Well, what’s the fun in that if I can just annoy you now? Just ‘cause your big bro’s gone doesn’t mean you can get rid of me that easy.” You dropped back down to the floor where your circle of stress resided and he plopped down onto your bed, immediately making himself comfortable on it as if it were his own damned cotton duvet he was sprawled across.

You snapped your head at him. “Do you have any particular reason to be here other than to drive me up the fucking wall with your shit?” You gave your deadliest glare, but that just seemed to amuse him further.

“No, that’s about it. Gotta keep you on your toes, ya know? Plus I would never be opposed to… what was it you said? ‘Driving you up the wall’? Sounds like a really fun challenge to me.” His smile was evil and you hated that it made him look even more attractive.

You scoffed in disbelief and returned to your notes. “Great. I feel honored to have warranted your undivided attention.” Your voice was dripping with sarcasm. “Well, if you have nothing better to do, at least keep it zipped up while I study for my finals.” 

“Oh? You sure you don’t want me to zip it down instead? You might find something even harder than those finals there, kitten.” You shot daggers at him with your eyes but his suggestive smile remained all the same. This motherfucker… did he really just say that?

This was a norm between the two of you. He would teasingly make lewd or flirtatious comments to you and you would always tell him to kindly fuck off. You never truly had any malice to your words and he knew this. So, the playful banter continued.

“OR I might find myself with an outrageous hospital bill after I shove your testicles so far up into your ass that you choke on them.” Your voice was saccharine sweet as you openly threatened him. It was as if you were a well-behaved waitress that would spit in his pudding spitefully.

He didn’t miss a beat. “Sorry, babe. I’m not into the whole cock and ball torture kink. Maybe we can explore what you like instead?”

You hoped he didn’t notice the red tint to your ears as you muttered expletives under your breath. “What I’d like is for you to shut the hell up and let me STUDY.” You obviously sounded absolutely done with his playful banter and he finally relented.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fine. Fine. I’ll leave you be this time, kitten.” He stood up from the bed and crouched down in front of you, flicking the edge of the textbook you were scanning over. “But if you ever need help with any of this, let me know.”

You just hummed your response, opening your laptop in front of you and refusing to make eye contact as he reluctantly slunk away from you and out of your house.

When you heard the front door shut, your head dropped from your shoulders to hang in front of you as you groaned. Why, just why, did you both end up wanting to be veterinarians? He constantly made fun of you, saying, “oh, it’s so cute how you want to follow in my footsteps!” or “you chose this major to be closer to ME, didn’t you?” 

UGH.

And that stupid smug face of his he made when you had finally declared your major was on a constant loop in your brain. He only called you that stupid nickname because you had rescued a cold and starving kitten on the side of the road when you were in high school and he named you that because that’s what made you find your dream of becoming a vet.

You were IN LOVE with your little Boots. Not to be mistaken for footwear, you named your kitten Boots because she was entirely black except for her four white paws. She was your number one emotional support after your breakup and you had no clue what you would do without her.

As if on cue, Boots casually walked into your room, licking her chops (most likely just finishing demolishing her food bowl like the little piggy she was), and nonchalantly plopped down right on the entirety of your keyboard as if it was her own personal heating pad.

“Boo-baby! I’m working!” You made no move to do anything about it because when cats demand your attention, it’s a crime not to comply. She just stared back at you with an adorable slow blink and your hand moved on its own to start petting her.

Her purring instantly started easing your mind and a fond smile bloomed on your face involuntarily. Slowly, her soft fur and soothing sounds washed away your worries. You felt the stress of school turn into confidence that you knew what you were doing and a reminder that your grades have been awesome. You felt that the annoyance of the people in your life, your ex, Tiffany, Minho, well… they didn’t really matter in terms of you living your own life.

This is your emotional support. Your precious Boots.

Without any words spoken or her even knowing what was going on, she knew when you were suffering. And she always made it her job to help you. That’s why it hurt your soul to meet people who say they hate cats because they are ‘evil’ or ‘assholes’.

Okay, yeah, they definitely can be assholes, but they aren’t inherently evil! They just have unique… personalities. It takes time and love to earn their trust, but when you do, the bond is like a special gift that is only reserved for you.

It was at that moment when you were lost in your thoughts that your phone buzzed. When you unlocked your phone, you saw a text from a random number.

Unknown Number:

Hey, is this Tiffany’s friend?

You:

Yeah, who’s asking?

Unknown Number:

Hey, this is Jackson

We met a couple of times a while back

Tiffany’s ex, remember?

You:

Yeah I remember

Look, I’m sorry if Tiffany told u something weird

I know she had good intentions but…

Please just ignore her lol

Sorry if she made u feel uncomfortable 😅

Jackson:

Nah, I’m not uncomfortable at all 🙂

Actually, I was kind of looking forward to talking to u

You:

Really?

Why tho?

Jackson:

I dunno 😅

I know we only met a couple of times

But I remember u were pretty cool

Really cute too 😉

You blushed a bit and found yourself kind of nervous. It felt like it had been ages since you were single and you just kind of forgot how to interact with guys that were interested in you… but you were kind of excited that someone was into you. Even if you felt like an utter twat trying to think of a response.

You:

Really?

Ur not so bad urself 😅

Jackson:

Oh yeah?

I know me and Tiff used to date and all but…

I was kinda excited to hear that u were available

You didn’t know if you wanted to thank Tiffany or strangle her.

Jackson:

I was wondering…

U have any plans for tomorrow night?

Okay. Keep it cool. Don’t be weird.

You:

I have class until 6

But after that I’m free

Jackson:

Nice, u wanna go to Sideways with me?

I hear they’re giving people one free shot tomorrow

You weren’t a huge fan of the local bar, too many college students and not enough dancing, you were more into the nightclubs where you could just dance to your heart’s content while blending into the crowd. Plus, who takes a girl to a bar for a first date? But you weren’t about to tell him that, so you figured one night wouldn’t hurt.

You:

That sounds like fun

Count me in

Jackson:

Awesome! It’s a date, then! 😉

I’ll pick u up at 8?

You:

Sounds good!

See u tomorrow! 😊

Jackson:

Bet, see u then

You screamed internally and looked at Boots. “Holy shit, Boo-Boo… What the fuck am I doing?” She just stared at you blankly, deciding she was bored with you now as she stood to stretch dramatically before she hopped up on your bed to make herself comfortable there instead.

You tried not to spiral into anxiety but this would be the first date you had been on after your breakup. You had no clue how to act or dress or not seem like a meager airhead that spends her Saturdays watching anime and cuddling her cat in bed wearing nothing but her panties and an oversized graphic t-shirt.

…Yeah you desperately needed assistance. You just prayed that Tiffany would be available to help.

________________________________________

“Not this… ew, no… oh GOD definitely not!” You just sat at your small vanity while Tiffany was raking through your closet to find you something to wear.

Classes were a lot less stressful that day than you had imagined and Tiffany was more than eager to help you get ready that night. You were thankful that you had a good amount of time to get ready because Tiffany was being super picky. Like, she looked like a fucking hound dog sniffing out anything that seemed even remotely designer.

“Do you have ANYTHING sexy in here?! I feel like I’m browsing through the clearance section at GAP!”

“Hey!” You knew she was kind of right, but she didn’t need to point it out so blatantly!

“What? It’s true!”

You huffed. Your ex never really took you out on fancy dates so you never really had the need for anything other than everyday clothes.

“Well excuse me for not dressing like fucking Kim Kardashian at the Met Gala!” She just crossed her arms and raised a brow in a ‘come at me, bitch’ kind of way. You sighed in defeat. “If I have anything remotely suitable, it’s probably buried in the back…”

You turned around to your mirror to continue with your hair and makeup, which was a whole other challenge in itself. You were already basically finished but you decided to be meticulous because, why not? Your new first date since high school should take at least a little effort, right?

“Well it’s not anything near perfect, but this will have to do.” You turned back to your friend laying out one of your black, tighter-fit dresses. “Where are your heels?”

You stood up and walked over to assess the dress. You hoped you could still fit in it, it had been forever since you wore it. “I can’t wear heels, remember? I would legitimately break an ankle if I stepped on anything that wasn’t even a tiny bit of flat ground. And even that is not guaranteed to keep me upright. Heels on me are just a hospital bill waiting to happen.”

She looked crestfallen. “Oh right, I forgot you’re clumsy as fuck. Those weak ankles will be the death of you, I swear” You giggled, knowing she was completely accurate in that statement. She hummed as she assessed your limited amount of shoes. “I suppose these strappy Mary Janes would look cute. Not necessarily the sexiest, but they will suffice.”

You had already stripped and were about to put the dress on when she stopped you. 

“You’re not going to wear that underwear, are you?” You looked down at your plain, black cotton bra and panties and shrugged. 

“Yeah, why not? Black works pretty well, no?”

She rolled her eyes. “You don’t have anything sexier?”

“Why? It’s not like I’m guaranteed to fuck him on the first date.” You stated as you grabbed the dress.

She grabbed it back from you with an incredulous face. “Are you serious?” She put the dress back down on the bed and grabbed you by the shoulders, donning her typical expression of looking down at you as if you were a child. “Honey. Now I know you haven’t dated in a while, but when a man takes you for a night out at a bar, he’s wanting to do the nasty, bump uglies, go home for ramen, Netflix and chill, beat that puss–”

“Alright! I get it! I get it!” You interrupted before she could plant any more images in your head. And really? For a first date? At this point, you really did feel out of the loop. You had only had sex with one guy, were you ready to go that far with a guy you barely knew?

“Well… I’m just gonna play it by ear… if he doesn’t like my underwear, he can go milk his monster by himself.” 

She sighed and stepped back, rubbing her temples. “Fine, but if that happens, don’t come whining to me and asking for more hookups.”

You didn’t even want this hookup in the first place! You had to internally hold yourself back from throwing a bitch fit and just forced yourself to calmly reply with– “Okay, Tiff. I won’t.”

She looked smug for some reason and you slid your way into the tight dress. “Ew! How is there already so much cat hair on it?!” She whined, trying to pat the hair off your ass.

“I have a cat, Tiff. Cats shed. You know this.” She looked annoyed and retrieved the lint roller from your nightstand.

When she finished rolling all the hair off you and you put on your shoes, she had you spin to assess you. She sighed. “Well, you’re no Audrey Hepburn, but at least you’re giving the right vibes.”

It was at that moment you both heard the front door open. Your parents were still on their anniversary trip so there was only one person it could be…

“Minho! We’re in here!” You quickly shushed your best friend, but the damage was already done. The door to your bedroom opened and Tiffany immediately walked over to grab him by the arm. “Ohmygod, perfect timing!” She was wrapped around his arm like a monkey and he looked slightly awkward until he looked at you. “Look at my masterpiece! I mean, probably not a masterpiece, per se. Especially with the limited resources I had to work with, but isn’t she great?!”

He was frozen next to her as he looked at you. “Y-yeah…” He seemed to snap out of it and he returned with his usual cockbox smirk. “What’s got you all dolled up, gorgeous?”

“None of your goddamned busine–”

“She’s got a hot date tonight! Like super hot.” Tiffany cut your scathing remark off.

Minho’s smile slightly faded and you rolled your eyes. “Okay, let’s not get carried away, Tiff. He’s a good-looking guy you decided to force upon me, that’s all.”

“Oh don’t give me that, bitch. I know you’ve already thought about fucking him ten ways to Sunday and back!” I mean with all the talk of fucking the man, how could you not imagine it?

You figured spit boxing was no use and, as if fate was on your side, Jackson texted you to tell you he was here. You huffed at the pair and grabbed your clutch purse. “Whatever, I have to leave anyway. Just lock up when you decide to leave…” You marched past the two and straight for the door before you felt a hand grab your wrist.

“Hey…” You raised a brow at Minho who had broken free from Tiffany’s iron grasp. “Be careful, okay? You have my number so call me if you need anything, yeah?”

You felt goosebumps and brushed off his hand. Was this Lee Minho being serious for once? What was the world coming to? “Yeah. Okay, whatever.”

And with that, you walked out the door, leaving Tiffany in your house alone with Minho. For some reason that just didn’t sit right with you. Why though?

________________________________________

The date was going… not as well as you expected…

The car ride was nice, he made pleasant conversation and he was super flirty. But when you guys got to the bar, Jackson ran into some of his guy friends and ended up getting absolutely wasted. However, he did keep you close to his side the whole time. Maybe a bit… too close? 

He had his hand around your waist the entire time, keeping you pulled close to him, and he paraded you to his friends like you were a fucking strumpet and they quickly seemed to take a liking to you as well. He had then decided to take you out back because he and his friends wanted to smoke.

“You want one, gorgeous?” Jackson offered you a cigarette and you declined.

“No thanks, I don’t smoke.” You decided not to mention that you thought smoking was absolutely repulsive and gave you the urge to blow chunks. However, you remained vigilant in your composure.

“Oh c’mon, you don’t wanna try?” His buddy said across from you, absolutely sloshed.

“I’m good, thanks.” You couldn’t hide the disgust in your voice and there was a lull in their conversation.

One of the taller, beefier friends of Jackson spoke up. “That’s a real pretty girl you got there, Jax.” He tilted his head to address you. “You got any friends, darlin’?” 

Before you could answer, most likely to tell him to kindly fuck off, another man spoke up. “Or maybe Jackson wouldn’t mind sharing.” You immediately felt chills wrack your body. You didn’t know these men… you didn’t know what they were capable of…

They all laughed and you looked at them with disgust. You turned to Jackson and spoke quietly in his ear. “Can we talk?”

He looked at you with a lopsided grin and pulled you back inside, winking to his friends as he closed the door behind him. He led you to a quiet hallway next to what looked like the bar’s stockroom. You felt his hands move to your hips as he pressed you up against the wall. His hands roamed up and down your sides, making your skin crawl, as he looked down at you with hunger. “Kay, baby. Let’s talk.” 

Without any further indication, he started hungrily kissing you. You didn’t want to not reciprocate, but the man was all tongue and it kind of made you sick to your stomach, especially with the taste of cheap beer and smoke lacing his spit. You gently pushed his chest, but he refused to back away. You moved your head to the side to escape his mouth, but he just continued to kiss down your neck.

“Jackson! I really just wanted to talk!” You tried to reason while he continued.

“We are talking, baby…” He growled against your skin.

You had lost your patience when he started groping your ass. At this point, you found yourself pushing him, hard. “Get the fuck off me, Jackson! I want to go home!”

He froze in place, and when he stood back up straight to look down at you, he looked pissed. “What the fuck, bitch? You come out drinking with me, cling to me all night with this sexy little black dress, and then get pissed from a little kissing?!” He looked really pissed off and you wondered why in the world would your best friend hook you up with this guy. “You’re just a fucking cunt tease. Find your own ride home.” 

And with that, he stormed back into the throes of the bar. You were speechless.

‘Find your own ride’?! It was already past midnight! Public transit had already finished their routes for the night, your parents were out of town, and you couldn’t afford an Uber! There was only one other option and you really really didn’t want to have to resort to it.

You angrily stormed out of the bar and pulled out your cell phone. Here goes nothing…

The dial tone only rang once before you heard the receiver. “Hello?”

You took a deep breath to calm yourself before you responded. “It literally pains me to say it, but I need your help…”

________________________________________

You stepped into the sleek, white KIA sedan and buckled up, refusing to look at the driver. You could feel his stare on you, but you really didn’t want to have to explain this whole embarrassing experience to him.

“I don’t even get a hello? So cold.” The teasing lilt in his voice made your blood boil, but he was doing you a favor, so you felt the need to indulge him.

You turned your head and donned a sickly sweet smile. “Hello, Minho.” Your smile instantly dropped when you looked straight forward again, waiting for him to get the fuck on with it.

“Oh, what lovely company you are! You should call me more often to come pick you up at 1 o’clock in the morning!” He said as he began to drive away from the front of the bar.

He had a point. This was actually a really big favor he was doing for you and you were being a raging bitch about it. You grumbled in frustration that you were forced to be grateful to this man. It was silent for a moment before you forced yourself to say something. “I’m sorry, Minho…”

You watched as he side-eyed you. “For?” He seemed to be genuinely at a loss for what you were talking about.

You felt the stress from the situation cause your inhibitions to falter. “I’m sorry for being an ass to you instead of thanking you for your help. I’m sorry that I was naive and thought that I would be able to go on dates like a normal person so soon after ending my three-year relationship. And I’m sorry to myself for being an idiot and letting that douchebag and his friends treat me like a whore and then let him kiss and touch me even though I didn’t want it!” Your voice became more and more upset the more you rambled on.

Minho full-on looked at you now. “He touched you?! Without your consent?!” He was visibly pissed and you couldn’t fathom why. “Who the fuck is this guy? Tell me his name. Does he go to our college? I swear, I’ll go full Bruce Lee on his ass.”

“Calm down, Nancy Drew. It’s over and done with. I’m never going to see that twat-waffle ever again…” His death grip on the steering wheel slowly relaxed, as well as the tension that was rising in the air.

It was silent for a moment and then you suddenly heard chuckling coming from the man beside you. “What?” You were about positive you were about to get miffed at him again.

“Did you really just say ‘twat-waffle’?” He asked while laughing.

You wanted to respond with something more defensive, but you couldn’t help but find his amusement contagious. “What? That’s what he is!” You involuntarily giggled through your words. “Seriously though, if that’s what guys are like nowadays, I might as well say goodbye to my sex life because there’s no way I’m dating that kind of trash! Not to mention that most men are incapable of making a girl climax anyway so that makes it even harder to find someone to date!” Shit… maybe you had one drink too many…

“Hey! Not all guys are like that!” He looked at you in mock offense. “In my book, if a guy can’t get a girl to cum, he doesn’t deserve to either.”

Your giggles turned into full-bellied laughter. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with my brother’s best friend! Don’t tell me you’re going to join Tiffany in gossiping about my ex too!”

His smile vanished. “Why? That asshole doesn’t deserve a single breath of air let alone a whole conversation about him. He deserves to be left forgotten and the world will be better off because of it.” Minho had lost all humor at the mention of him and he spoke to you dead-serious. “You deserve to be with guys better than him. Better sex than him too from what it sounds like.”

You scoffed. “Yeah well, unfortunately, he has the only dick I’ve ever known. I don’t even have anything to compare him to, the bastard.”

He finally pulled up in front of your house and cut the engine. “You could compare him to me. Someone who actually knows what he’s doing.”

You started cracking up, but your laughter slowly faded when you realized he wasn’t laughing along with you. Wait, was he serious? Surely not… Your face morphed into one of perplexity. “You’re joking, right?”

“Do I look like I’m laughing?” He raised an eyebrow and looked as if he was challenging you. “Personally, I think you need to explore your likes and dislikes with someone who’s willing to be your guinea pig. We already know each other well, meaning I like to believe you trust me more than a random hookup. So, the way I see it, it makes sense that I would be better fit to show you what it’s supposed to be like before you go chasing guys that would probably end up like that, quote-unquote, ‘twat-waffle’.” 

He said while using his hands to motion his quotations, immediately opening the driver-side door and stepping out of the car before you even had time to process his words.

You had short-circuted and you were frozen in your seat as if you were glued to it. Hundreds of images, ones that you never thought in a thousand years would have crossed your mind, began flitting through your brain. You quickly came to your senses and ran after him as he began unlocking the door to your house.

“If this is just one of your stupid tricks, it’s not a very funny one, Minho. It’s actually really fucking shitty to joke about.” You declared, furious and defensive as the two of you stepped inside. 

He huffed and turned around to face you in the entryway. He looked slightly annoyed. “Like I said, not a joke. If you don’t want to and you think I’m crazy for even offering, then you can go back to dating douchebags who fuck like jack-rabbits just to leave you unsatisfied and I can go back to enjoying the fun task of annoying the hell out of you. No harm done.” He smirked as he walked off with a shrug to head toward the kitchen.

What the actual fuck was he thinking? How did he even come to this conclusion? No, why did he even want to fuck you in the first place? “You’re right, I do think your crazy–” He turned back to you, now holding a fresh glass of water, with a complacent expression plastered on his face. “...but…” You took a second to look at him. Really look at him. 

It had always pissed you off that he looked like a fucking Greek god with absolutely zero effort. He was cocky and proud and knew just what to say to get what he wanted. He was one of those people that, when you complimented him, would just agree with you and praise himself. He might have been the least humble person you had ever known.

Still… He wasn’t precisely rude about it, he just had an insane level of self-confidence. You supposed he deserved to be proud. His face was naturally beautiful, but you knew he at least put in some effort. Before your brother left, he and Minho would hit the gym constantly. And, by looking at the chiseled-looking man in front of you, he never stopped. From his teen years to manhood, age definitely treated him nicely.

Okay, if you were being honest with yourself, you may or may not have pictured what might be under all that linen. He is a gorgeous man, after all. And as you stood there staring each other down, your eyes drifted to his lips. It had been so long since you had been touched…

You found yourself licking your lips and he reciprocated the action. 

Minho suddenly walked up to you until he was inches from your face, looking down at you with an intense expression. The tension in the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife. You bit your lip as you searched his eyes, looking for any sign of this being a sick prank. There was none.

“But?” He questioned with a smirk and a raised brow, imploring you to continue your statement.

What is he doing to me? I must be going crazy… Shit shit shit…

“...but…” You sighed, dejected. “You have to promise not to tell anyone…” You couldn’t look him in the eyes as you said the words that seemed to escape on their own. You were even shocked with yourself for even entertaining the idea.

His face morphed into several different expressions simultaneously. Shock, hunger, eagerness, and anticipation colored his eyes, but he donned a collected appearance. “You’re not drunk, are you?” He asked tentatively.

You looked at him in the eyes again with a scowl. You might have a bit of a loosened tongue, but you knew for a fact that you were nowhere near drunk. “If I were drunk, I would have vomited on you for even asking.”

With your scathing remark, he returned to his normal irksome demeanor. He smirked and bent his knees a bit to be at eye level with you. “Is that so? Then maybe I should just go home? Since it is sooo beneath you to see what I can do… how good I can make you feel…” He whispered so close to your face that you could feel his breath against your lips.

He brushed past you and headed toward the front door. You cursed yourself for what you were about to do, but the discussion was already leaving you needy as hell. “Wait.” You said with irritation coloring your voice, refusing to turn around to face him. You heard his footsteps halt and you closed your eyes with a short, exasperated sigh. Still unable to face him, your voice was firm. “Prove to me what you can do and I might be willing to use you…”

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was wearing an infuriating, triumphant smile.

He said no words, but you heard quiet footsteps grow near. As you waited in anticipation, you felt a shiver run down your spine when he gently swept your hair back off the side of your neck. You felt his breath against your ear before you heard his words. “My pleasure, kitten…”

First, you felt a single chaste and moist kiss be placed at the base of your jaw and you let out a shaky breath that you hadn’t realized you had been holding. Your fists were clenched so hard you could feel your nails digging into your skin.

Next, you felt the feather-light touch of his hands start to creep from your sides, down to grasp your hips. His now firm grasp pulled your ass back to be flush against him and he continued his slow torture of gliding his moist lips up and down your neck, your hairs standing on end with the ghosting breath against your heated skin. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” You hadn’t realized that your breathing had become heavier, but you heard his whispered words against your neck loud and clear. You didn’t trust your voice, so you just responded with an aggressive nod.

You felt his teeth as he smiled against you and his thumbs started rubbing circles into your hipbones. You were feeling the dizzying effects of his touch and smell and your mind was racing with thoughts of what he was planning on doing to you. As he started kissing your neck with a bit more purpose, a sudden thought popped into your head. “N-no marks…”

He hummed against your skin and you felt his tongue dip into your clavicle. “Of course…” His mouth started kissing, licking, sucking, and nipping just fervently enough not to leave marks and your breathing picked up as his hands started to wander. When he was sure that you weren’t going anywhere, his hands started gliding up your stomach to just below your breasts.

He teased you, acting as if he were about to make a move to cup them, but his hands started gliding back down. You found yourself desperately wanting him to touch you as his hands smoothed down the fronts of your thighs until his fingertips reached the skin at the hem of your dress. Your heart was thumping when he groped your thighs and his thumbs circled around just the inside of your thighs over your dress.

His ministrations were painfully slow, from his continuous devouring of your neck to the teasing of his hands. He denied you further touch again as he moved his hands, still playing at the edge of your dress, around to lightly grope your ass.

You were about to snap and you couldn’t take the teasing anymore. You spun around in his arms, obviously taking him off guard, and you didn’t allow yourself to think as you wrapped your arms around his neck and stole his lips with your own. Holy shit… you were kissing Minho…

At first, he seemed to be shocked by your boldness, but soon he began to kiss you back with equal amounts of fervor. His lips were soft and plump and his tongue danced along with yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world. You arched your body into him and he wrapped his arms around you, hands still tracing patterns down your lower back.

When he pulled you closer to him by your ass, you moaned into his mouth. You knew your panties were drenched and you were almost embarrassed at how quickly he managed to get you basically dripping for him. How could such a pestilent man affect you so intensely?

However, when he pushed you up against the wall and pressed himself against you, you could feel he was equally as affected. You hadn’t realized you were shaking in his hold until you moved your trembling hands up to tangle in his blonde locks. “Shit, Minho…”

You whimpered into his mouth and he shushed you. “Shhh, let me take care of you, kitten.” He sealed his lips to yours again and you felt his hands grope your ass once more before gliding one of them down to the hem of your dress again. Only this time, when he moved to the inside of your thigh, he dipped his hand underneath your dress to tease the edge of your panties.

“Oh fuck…” He chuckled at your falsetto, whispered words and he returned to attacking your neck as his fingers moved over to rub circles over your thin underwear.

Your head was thrown back in ecstasy as he pleasured you in slow motion. You had no clue why being this frustrated from his teasing would turn you on so much. You tried to grind down on his hand, but he still only lightly pleasured you.

“M-Min… please. Oh god!” He pinched your clit over the material and chuckled when you jumped.

“Tsk tsk tsk, so impatient.” He sighed against your neck before standing straight and looking down at you. “You can’t rush perfection, kitten. I’m going to take my time ruining you…” He pressed his lips against yours and you pulled him back by his hair.

“Well then take your time in my bedroom and not out here in the fucking hallway. I don’t want Boots watching.”

The smile that grew on his face as he laughed at your statement made your head feel fuzzy. Then, before you knew it, you were in the air, quickly wrapping your arms and legs around the man as he carried you to the bedroom, your dress hitching up to your hips at the action. He shut the door behind him with his foot and he gingerly sat down on the bed with you still stradding him. “Do you want me to strip or do you want to do it for me?” He raised a brow (those damned sexy eyebrows) in question and licked his lips with a lopsided grin as he pulled you as close as humanly possible.

Gosh, this man was infuriatingly sexy. “Aren’t you supposed to show me what I want, mister expert?” You quipped as you rested your arms on his shoulders.

He flashed his teeth and leaned back slightly, stripping only his t-shirt off before returning his hands to rub up and down your bare thighs. Your ogling eyes were beyond obvious and he gently grabbed one of your hands. He moved your hand to glide from his bulging pecs down to his chiseled abs.

He released you and allowed you to keep mapping his skin out with your hands. You wanted to lick him all over and trace every vein and crevice on his body. You found the courage to latch your own lips to his neck now and he hummed contentedly. You found yourself involuntarily grinding against the bulge in his sweatpants and he groaned.

His hands that had returned to your ass moved up to the back of your neck and one of them found the zipper on the back of your dress. You were shivering with excitement as you felt your back being exposed slowly to the chilled air and his hands felt like they were on fire as they caressed your bare skin.

However, instead of stripping you completely, his hands moved back to your thighs to creep up under your dress again, halting your movements. Your anticipation had stopped your mouth against him and you began panting into the crook of his neck. 

When he reached your panty line, his fingers deftly dipped underneath your underwear this time and you moaned into his skin when his fingers dragged through your folds. “So wet already…” He whispered in your ear before grazing his teeth over the shell of it. He quickly flicked the pad of his thumb over your clit and you hugged him close with a gasp. “Can I taste you, sweet thing?”

You could almost cum from those words alone. Your ex refused to eat you out because he thought the idea of it was disgusting. This made you extremely self-conscious of having him, or anyone else for that matter, see you naked for too long. However, Minho had you wound up so tight that the coil in your stomach was bound to snap at any moment and you really wanted to take him up on his offer.

You pulled back and looked back into his eyes which were black with desire. “Y-you… you want to do that?” The disbelief in your voice was apparent and you moaned when he shallowly dipped his finger inside you.

“Fuck, more than anything…” He bit his lip and you held onto his shoulders as he pumped his finger in and out of you.

Sooner than you would have liked, he pulled his finger out and your breath shook when you saw him lick his finger clean.

“Shit…” He said with eyes closed in bliss. When he opened them again, they were filled with pure, carnal desire. In the blink of an eye, he had you on your back with your dress shucked off and thrown into the dark abyss that was your room.

It was dark, only the moon shining through your window illuminating the god-like man above you, so you weren’t too terribly self-conscious. But with the way Minho sat there on his knees between your legs, staring down at you, it had you squirming a bit. Shit, maybe I SHOULD have worn sexier lingerie.

“God, you’re so fucking gorgeous…” His hands roamed over your thighs and drifted around to undo the latch of your bra. It quickly joined your dress and you cried out when his mouth was like a magnet to your nipples. I guess he doesn’t care about the underwear…

You couldn’t control your hips as you rutted up into him, desperate for stimulation as your nipples were being abused. You had to admit, the man did wonders with his mouth, and the thought of that tongue between your legs had you whimpering.

Without removing his mouth from your nipples, you felt his fingers loop under your underwear. He finally relented his attack to free you of your underwear and your whole body went stiff as he lowered his face between your legs.

He must have noticed because he immediately halted and looked up at you. “Is this okay? Do you want me to stop?” You were pleasantly surprised that he was so concerned about your comfort.

“No no, it’s okay! It’s just… he never… I’ve never had anyone…” You were too embarrassed to say it out loud, but he seemed to understand.

“Man, he’s more of a piece of shit than I thought…” You gasped when he kissed your inner thigh. “Just lay back and enjoy kitten. I’ll show you how it’s done.” And without further ado, he moved to hover over your entrance.

You shivered and your eyes closed in anticipation when you felt him blow his hot breath over your sensitive folds. And when you finally felt him… OH… MY… GOD…

You were incredibly grateful your parents weren’t currently home because the moan you belted out was absolutely filthy. Your hands instantly flew to his hair and he had to hold on to your legs to keep you from crushing him between your thighs.

It was everything you wanted and more and you were feeling delirious from it. He had started by sliding his tongue through your folds from base to your clit and then he closed his puckered lips around the sensitive bead and sucked while circling his tongue around it. You were almost sobbing it felt so good. When you felt him insert a finger and find your G-spot, you went insane.

“HOLYFUCKINGSHITRIGHTTHERERIGHTTHEREOHMYGODYES… Please don’t stop! Fuck please… Fuckyesyesyes! Don’t stop! Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplea– AHH!” You unexpectedly came with furious power and you could feel yourself soaking his face violently.

In the moment, you felt like you were in heaven, but when he popped up from in between your legs with his stupid ass smirk and your release dripping from his chin, you were mortified. 

“Oh my god, Minho, shit I’m so sorry! Shit. Fuck! …That’s so fucking embarrassing…” You buried your face in your hands, so mortified you wanted to cry, and he immediately grabbed your wrists, pulling them away to show his befuddled expression.

“Embarrassing? I thought that was the fucking sexiest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do!” He looked at you like you were crazy, but your face was still bright red. Apparently, he could even notice that in the moonlight because he then guided one of your hands to the crotch of his sweatpants to feel his erection. You gasped at the heat you could feel all the way through the thick material. He leaned down and growled in your ear. “Does this feel like I thought it was embarrassing?”

You pressed your palm against him and he groaned in your ear. You were desperate to feel him inside you and you were suddenly bold enough to slowly dip your hand into his pants to palm him over his boxers.

“Fuck… do you have condoms.” He said as his head dropped to your shoulder.

“Y-yeah… top drawer.” You said motioning to your nightstand. 

He hopped up and made quick work of removing his sweatpants and boxers. Holy shit. Either your exes dick was super small or Minho’s dick was super big because the difference was catastrophic. When he knelt between your legs again, condom in hand, he must have gauged your expression. “Everything okay?” You could hear the humor leaking through his restrained voice.

Your blood was indubitably boiling. It’s just not fucking fair to be so fucking perfect. Just more grounds for him to be cocky as hell. You cleared your throat and looked to the side. You had to say something because, honestly, you were genuinely uneasy about it. “It’s just…” You side-eyed his beautiful dick again. “...I haven’t… I don’t…” You sighed in frustration, not knowing how to say it.

He began patiently stroking it. “The suspense is killing me, kitten.” He smiled sarcastically and you stared daggers up at him.

You huffed and looked away again, eyes involuntarily snapping to his dick again for a half second. “Like… how do you know it will fit? I mean your’s is like way…” You peered up at his face which was trying desperately to not erupt in laughter. You sat up and shoved him. “I’m serious, asshole! That thing is terrifying!”

He had exploded and your push caused him to collapse on the bed in hysterics. He was holding his stomach in pain from how much he was laughing and you glared at him.

“Fine! If it’s such a joke to you, then whatever! Now, if you’ll excuse me–” You attempted to get off the bed, but in the blink of an eye, you were on your back again.

“Now now, let’s not throw a temper tantrum, little thing.” You shivered as he licked up the column of your neck. “Not only can I make it fit, I’ll make you beg for it.” He kissed your cheek before grinning down at you mischievously.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Prove it.” This one challenging statement had him instantly devouring your mouth as his hands eagerly roamed your body. You tasted a hint of yourself on his lips and you couldn’t explain why that turned you on so much. He had you heated up again in no time, and when you felt two of his fingers slowly enter you, you moaned with his lower lip between your teeth.

He started pumping his digits in and out of you with blinding speed and it was almost too much for you. Involuntary ‘ah, ah, ah’s fell out of your mouth when he moved his mouth to your nipples and your eyes clenched shut when you felt a third finger join the others. He slowed his pace so he wouldn’t hurt you, but when you felt him insert a fourth finger, he knew exactly what to do to distract you from any discomfort.

He dug up into your g-spot again while his thumb circled your clit and you were shouting out expletives again. You were whining and thrashing and he sat back on his knees just to watch you fall apart. You felt another orgasm wrack your entire being, but your body screamed more, more, more. “Minho, fuck! Minho! Minho!”

“What is it, kitten? What do you want?” He gave you an evil sneer as he moved in inches from your face. You glared at him before you basically punched him with your lips.

“Fuck me right this instant, goddamnit!” You shouted with your head thrown back when you released him, gasping for air.

He pulled back again and laughed. “As you wish, your highness…” Your whole body slumped into the bed when he removed his fingers and you were panting from the intensity of the situation.

“Wait–” You snatched the condom from him, leaving him with a dumbfounded expression. “I wanna do it…” You ripped open the package and threw the wrapper into the void, tentatively taking his unbelievable cock in your hand and looking up at his expression as you slowly stroked him.

He looked like he could cum any second from finally having some stimulation after holding back for so long. Before you knew it, you gave him a little kitten lick on the tip, collecting a load of precum, and watched as he visibly shivered. “Fuck, kitten…” He sounded almost like he was in pain. Watching his throat bob as he dry-swallowed gave you a longing you couldn’t explain.

You decided enough was enough and you rolled the condom down his length before laying back and spreading your legs.

He bit his lip and his black eyes were devouring you, but he stopped himself as he hovered above you. “Jokes aside, tell me if I’m hurting you at all, okay?”

You felt your heart thump violently and you sensed an uncomfortable swirling in your stomach. Why was he being so nice to you? You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Okay…” He smiled sweetly for once. “Now, for fuck’s sake, can you please just fuck me?” 

He cackled at your impatient remark and you gasped when you felt the heat of his tip poke at your entrance and he dragged it up and down your folds. You dug your fingers into his shoulders as he hovered over you, watching you to assess your expressions, and he slowly sank into you. You furrowed your eyebrows in slight discomfort, but the delicious feeling of his hot tumescence dragging against your walls had you seeing stars.

You whimpered as he slowly entered and you were glad to see that he wasn’t completely unaffected. His brows were furrowed as well and when he went as far as your pussy would allow, he dropped his forehead to your shoulder, keeping himself still as he breathed heavily. “Shit…” He mumbled.

“Yeah… shit…” You agreed as your fingers tangled themselves in his sandy hair. How did you get in such a situation to have Lee Minho buried deep into your sopping cunt? You both lay there trying to control your breathing while he remained motionless inside you. After the discomfort lessened and your desire grew, you started to squirm. “Minho… move…”

He began slowly grinding into you for what seemed like ages. And when you desperately rutted up into him, he wasted no time in receiving the hidden message. Immediately, he slowly pulled back and you felt him start to languidly place wet kisses across your collarbone. You cried out in ecstasy when you felt him expertly rock back into you.

His pace slowly started to increase and his kisses became more hungry as time passed. You pulled him up by his hair and made him lock lips with you, hoping that would stifle your moans.

It didn’t.

You were whimpering into the kiss and his hips moved in a way that hit all the right places. He released your lips so he could grab one of your legs and hold it in the crook of his elbow. He then proceeded to snap his hips into you as if his life depended on it.

“FUCK! Fuckfuckfuckfuck!” You cried out.

“Tell me how good it feels, kitten.” He said between breaths, eyes searching your own.

“Shit sofuckinggood– ah! Fuck! So good Minho!” You were just about sobbing now and you couldn’t find it in yourself to give two fucks about the undoubtedly cocksure smile that painted his face.

“Damn kitten, you’re so fucking tight. That asshole has no fucking clue what he lost. Fuck!” He sped up his thrusts and you were clawing at his chest, unable to handle the raw pleasure he was bringing you.

This was the most incredible feeling you had ever had and your reactions were like you weren’t even yourself anymore. One particular thrust had you screaming. “MINHOFUCKSHIT! DontstoppleaseMinhodontstop!!!”

“Fuck, I would never…” He huffed and he seemed close as well with the way his rhythm stuttered and his thrusts became more powerful.

You came while screaming his name and he came while burying his face in the crook of your neck with an animalistic growl. He rode both of you through your orgasms and then gingerly pulled out so he wouldn’t hurt you.

“Wait here.” Was all he said before he stood, tied the condom, and walked across the hall to the bathroom. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to. He returned with a washcloth and began cleaning you. Okay, he has definitely proved himself.

When he finished, he collapsed next to you on the bed with heavy lids, turning his head to look at you. You returned his gaze and sighed. “I guess I have a new guinea pig…”

________________________________________

Your economics class had just ended and you and Tiffany decided to grab some coffee and hang out in the campus courtyard before she went to her next course. Thankfully, you were free for the rest of the afternoon and you were desperate to get home and take a hot bath, maybe watch some porn, and take a well-deserved nap. “Honestly, I’m pretty sure something was really wrong with him. Like, he could not hold a conversation for shit.”

You laughed at your friend’s ramblings about her latest breakup. “Wait, so this one was Jay, right? The one you went out with after my place last week?” 

“Yyyep, that’s the one. Like I said before, the sex was amazing, but I need to date someone with an actual functioning brain.” She huffed and slurped down some of her drink that looked like a cupcake version of a coffee. “Like, how hard is it to find someone who’s able to fuck me like a whore but talk to me like an adult?! Those men are, like, nowhere to be found!” An image of Minho slamming his cock into you flitted through your mind, but you quickly snapped out of it.

You just continued to laugh because you knew Tiffany dropped guys left and right all the time for the smallest things. “There’s no such thing as a perfect man, Tiff. Might as well accept the truth.”

She grumbled and began to tie her hair up. You took a sip of your iced americano and arched your brow when your friend’s eyes lit up and she instantly took her hair back down and combed her fingers through it. She waved her hand in the air to someone behind you. “Minho! Over here!”

Oh no…

You whipped your head around and, sure enough, the man was walking toward you two with that same annoying-ass grin. After that night almost a week ago, you sent Minho home with an awkward (and slightly sexually charged) goodbye when you decided to take a shower. Since then, the only communication you had with him was a simple exchange of texts the following day:

Minho😈:

How r u feeling today?

Sore? 😏

Kitten😼:

Why? 

R u wanting me to leave u a Yelp review?

*Lee Minho: too cocky for his own good*

Minho😈:

Oh? So that WASN’T the best sex of ur life?

Could have fooled me 

I counted and… 🤔

Do u want to know how many times u screamed my name?

Kitten😼:

Ur fucking crazy

I have to go get ready

Later, psychopath 🖕

Minho😈:

Can’t wait 😉

…That had been the last form of communication you had had with the man and you definitely felt like you needed to have a serious conversation with him. But you were NOT prepared to see him NOW!

You quickly spun back around and scrambled to pick up your phone to make it seem like you were doing something else other than having an internal panic attack. “It’s about time I caught you on campus! I was starting to think you were avoiding me!” You couldn’t help but glance at your friend when she flirtatiously held his forearm when he reached the concrete ledge of the garden the two of you were sitting on in the courtyard.

“No, not at all. I’m actually glad I ran into you guys.” You refused to look up at him although you could feel his eyes burning holes into you.

“Oh is that so? Well then join us!” She tugged on his arms and you closed your eyes, praying that he wouldn’t accept.

“Sure, I’ve got some time.” Your eyes immediately snapped open and you watched as Tiffany pulled him down to sit on the other side of her. You scowled up at him when he leaned forward so he could talk to you around her. “Hey there, kitten. You seemed to be super interested in your home screen there.”

Tiffany giggled and you looked down to see that you hadn’t even unlocked your phone in your attempt to look busy. You could feel the blood rush to your ears but you just shoved your phone in your bag and fixed your vision on the bustling students roaming the courtyard. “So what if I am?” You tried to deflect the conversation. “Why are you here anyway? Where is your normal posse of goons? The ones I actually like?” And by goons, you mean the infamous Chris, Changbin, Hyunjin, Jisung, and Felix. There were Seungmin and Jeongin as well, but they decided to pursue the same path as your brother, but you still missed them…

“Oh, they’re nearby. I told them to meet me out here when they were finished getting their coffee.” Of course they would happen to be here at the exact same time as you. 

“Then why aren’t you with them? Did you get lost?” You said as you finally turned to look at him with a sarcastic leer.

Fuck him for looking so incredibly gorgeous for no goddamned reason.

“Nah. I saw you guys out here and I thought it would be fun to come annoy you.” He winked and your face twisted into a disbelieving scoff.

“Okaaaay, I think I’m going to head to class early, babe. I see you two bicker too much anyway.” Tiffany stood up and said to you with a giggle, clearly trying to escape the awkward tension. “Oh! And Minho…” She opened her backpack and ripped a scrap of paper off of her notebook, scribbling something on it and handing it to him. “We never really exchanged numbers even after knowing each other for so long! So I thought I’d finally give you mine.” She bit her glossed lips with a flirtatious smile that annoyed you for some unknown reason. “Call me any time.”

And with that, she strutted off to class. The man looked surprised but slipped the paper into his jeans pocket nonetheless. He smirked at you and you realized you had a disgusted look on your face. “Are you seriously wanting to bag my best friend now? You’re disgusting.” 

Your gut churned as you looked away and you froze when you heard him scoot closer to you. “Why? You jealous, kitten?” You could hear the smile in his voice and you scoffed, head turning in the opposite direction from him before turning back.

When you looked at him, he was a lot closer than expected and your breath hitched for a moment before you regained your composure. “And what, exactly, would I have to be jealous of?” You tried to sound firm, but you could feel a hitch in your breath in between words.

You could have imagined it, but you watched as his smile faltered just slightly before returning to its teasing appearance. “I dunno, you tell me. Afraid of someone playing with your pet?”

You had to turn away because looking at him was just too intense. You scowled at the concrete, an uncomfortable retching feeling building in your stomach from the topic. “You can fuck whoever you want, Minho. It’s not like I actually own you…” You puffed out a half chuckle at the idea. You looked at him again and his smile, although still stretched across his face, was lacking in vibrance and color. “I’m just your friend’s naive little sibling that happens to have a pussy. You said it yourself, you offered yourself up to just be a guinea pig because I’m inexperienced. Nothing more.”

Why did it make you slightly queasy to say that? It was the truth.

Now his smile had vanished entirely. “Hey now, that’s not true and you kno–”

“Baby girl!!!” Minho was interrupted by a man running at you full sprint behind Minho and a smile automatically stretched across your face. You immediately stood up and opened your arms as he crashed into you with a crushing hug, picking you up and spinning you around with glee as the two of you giggled.

“Oh my god, Jisungie! It’s been so fucking long since I’ve seen you!” You giggled in his arms. “I know my brother isn’t home these days, but, sheesh man, you know you can still call or text, right?”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, girly.” He made a pouty face as he set you back on your feet and held you by your shoulders. “But I figured Min had been keeping you up to date.” He stated as said man stood up next to you with a grumble.

Jisung was a part of your brother’s group of friends even though he was your own age. However, Minho and Jisung hit it off the most and they undoubtedly had the closest bond within the friend group. This being said, the two ended up being roommates once Jisung graduated high school, and, unless Minho was loitering at your house, the two were attached at the hip.

Unlike Minho, you and Jisung always got along swimmingly. Actually, you loved everyone in your brother’s group except for Minho, which is why it was kind of a comical irony that you and Minho had ended up in your current situation. They all also knew your particular distaste for Minho…

As if reading your mind, the rest of the group soon followed Jisung as you could see them walking towards the three of you. Felix’s arrival was much like Jisung’s as he wrapped you in a huge hug and kissed you on the cheek.

“Where the hell have you been, princess??” Changbin said as he came and ruffled your hair with the annoying title most of them had taken to calling you.

“Buried in my studies, that’s where. As soon as I started here, I instantly regretted cramming most of my credits into freshman year.” You chuckled.

All three of the boys that were also in their freshman year, Jisung, Felix, and Hyunjin, groaned in agreement. “Tell me about it! I even signed up for the bare minimum and I feel like my life is crumbling. I don’t know how you do it!” Hyunjin whined.

“But it’ll be worth it. I did the same in my freshman year and, now that I’m in my senior year, I don’t feel like I’m killing myself just to graduate with my bachelor's.” Chris said from where he had his arm flung over Minho’s shoulder as the younger man wore an artificial disgusted guise from the action.

“You really do need to take it easy sometimes though, love. You’ll burn yourself out.” Felix said with a concerned smile as he played with your hair. Jisung had wrapped his arms around your waist from the other side of you and rested his head on your shoulder and you giggled at the two boys’ affection.

“I know, I know. I just want to make sure I can make it into Veterinary school after graduation.”

“Which reminds me. WE were having a discussion so will you guys–” 

“You two?! Talking?! Without tearing each other apart?!” Hyunjin dramatically interrupted Minho as the group looked back and forth between you and him with befuddlement in their eyes.

“Yes.” Minho said through clenched teeth with a scowl at the man who instantly recoiled. The feisty older blonde quickly pried Jisung off of you and eyed the younger’s amused expression. “Now kindly fuck off, all of you vultures.” Minho continued as he grabbed your backpack from the ledge and wrapped his warm fingers around your wrist and briskly dragged you away.

“Bye, princess! I’ll text you and we can all meet up sometime!” Chris bellowed at your retreating form.

“Sounds good!” You waved at the five smiling men with your free hand and they all waved back.

Minho led you out of the courtyard and through a couple of buildings, finally leading you to a semi-demolished parking garage that was notorious for being unoccupied. When the two of you walked in, you saw his car parked in probably the only spot that wasn’t in ruins.

“Have you gone completely brain-dead? Why are you parked in this dilapidated lot? You know they have much closer parking with way less risk of being squashed by rubble?”

He just shrugged as he opened the passenger door for you to get in and simply replied. “Free parking. And I don’t mind walking.”

When he finally hopped in the driver’s seat and started driving you eyed him. “Where the fuck do you think you’re taking me?”

“You don’t have class, right? I thought I’d take you to mine. Make you some dinner as thanks.”

To his? As in his apartment?! “Thanks for what? For letting you fuck me? I’m pretty sure there was a mutual benefit there, Min.”

He puffed out a half-chuckle. “No, you pervert. It’s a thanks for trusting and listening to me the other night by giving me a call to pick you up when you needed me.”

For some reason, you felt your cheeks heat up and you scoffed. “Trust might be an overstatement, but that was just because I didn’t have any other choice.” He shot you a crooked grin at your snide comment.

“Well then, I suppose this is me thanking you for using me for yet another reason.” He winked at you and you turned your head to look out your window with a scowl and crossed arms when you felt your face turn bright red.

When you entered his apartment, it wasn’t quite what you imagined. For some reason, you expected to see posters of half-naked women on the walls and trash everywhere. But, as far as you could see, the place was actually clean and decorated very nicely with spotless surfaces and the only thing that you could see that you had expected were the various game consoles by the TV. The typical fuckboy energy was noticeably absent. 

There were two separate rooms on the left side of the large living room and a sizable bathroom close to the entryway. The kitchen was on the far wall with some pretty flowing curtains hanging from the windows surrounding it. The living area was directly left of the entryway in front of the kitchen with a large sectional couch and a cozy armchair.

His place was… really nice.

As he shut the door behind him and took off his shoes next to your own, he assessed your face as you looked around. “What do you think?” He almost sounded… hopeful?

You contemplated your response. “It’s… a lot more mature than I had expected…” You couldn’t look at his face as you verbalized the semi-compliment, instead running your fingers over the soft leather of the couch and taking in the concentrated scent of pure Minho.

Why was that so appealing to you?

He chuckled behind you and you whipped around when you heard he was much closer than you had anticipated. “Well… thanks? I guess?” You cursed yourself when your eyes flitted down to his plump lips. And, judging by the shit-eating smile on his face, he knew.

However, instead of acting on it, he just walked around you into his open-floor-planned kitchen. “What do you want to eat, kitten? Canned tuna? Maybe with some warm milk?” He teased.

“Har, har. You’re a comedic genius, asshole.” He just cackled at his own lame excuse for a joke. “I dunno, what do you have?”

He pressed his palms on the countertop of the island and leaned forward, your eyes lingering a bit too long on the prominent veins of his forearms. “I was thinking kimchi fried rice, does that sound good?”

You basically moaned. “Oh god, my favorite.”

He flashed you a crooked smile. “I know.” And with that he simply turned around and got to work, leaving you caught off guard and a tiny bit flustered.

________________________________________

“That was probably the best kimchi fried rice I’ve had in my entire life.” You groaned from where you sat at the island counter, holding your stomach from how much you ate. “I feel like I’m about to explode, though.”

He briefly lifted a brow at you over his shoulder from the kitchen sink where he quickly washed the dishes. “Was that a compliment I just heard?”

You flipped him off and he guffawed. “Don’t flatter yourself, it was merely an observation.”

He wiped his hands off and moved to stand on the other side of the island from you. “Do you want some wine?”

You glanced at your phone for the time and saw it was already almost six. You thought for a moment and assessed the cute, pleading pout he donned. You rolled your eyes. “Fine, it’d better not be shitty box wine though.” You eyed him speculatively.

He looked disgusted. “Gross. I’m not a Neanderthal, kitten.” He pulled out two wine glasses and sat them on the counter. “Red or white?”

You just stood and walked over to the living room to judge the comfort of his couch. “Don’t care, surprise me.”

As you plopped down, you could instantly feel yourself being absorbed by the plush cushions and you groaned. You closed your eyes for one moment and listened to the pouring of the wine and the clinking of the glasses before he stood in front of you, setting the bottle on the coffee table and handing you a rich red wine. You claimed the glass, swirled it a bit, and sniffed before taking a sip.

The bitterness was perfectly complemented by the sweet and fruity undertone, an obvious decadent fermentation. This surely had to be an expensive red. “Holy shit, Min. What is this, Merlot? Pinot Noir?” You tried to look at the bottle from where the couch was swallowing you, but the label was facing away from you.

“Cabernet actually. You like it?” He inquired as he sipped his own serving.

“It’s probably the best red I’ve ever had.” You savored another large swig.

He narrowed his eyes with a mischievous smile. “The best food and the best booze? I’d say I’m a pretty good host.”

There he goes with the self-appreciation again. You rolled your eyes and continued to drink enthusiastically. “I would hardly consider this booze, Meanhoe. But don’t worry, you still have time to screw it up somehow.” A sudden thought crossed your mind. “By the way, where’s Ji? He should’ve been here by now.”

He just chuckled and refilled your empty glass, which you accepted eagerly. “I told him to stay at Chan and Changbin’s place tonight.”

You arched a brow at him. “You told him to? And why is that?” You were inexplicably anxious as you guzzled your drink a bit. Shit, you were going to develop an alcohol dependency from being around this man.

A grin slowly grew on his face once he took a sip and sat his glass down. “I told him that I was having a pretty girl over tonight.” He was slightly leaning toward you, now biting his lip to tame his smile.

You were drinking more out of bashfulness now. You knew your face was flushed, but you tried to maintain your composure all the same. “How presumptuous of you. Is that the only reason you invited me over? Am I just here so you can bag me and send me on my way?” Your stomach churned painfully at the thought. It’s your fault anyway by agreeing to this mess.

His face fell and his eyes widened in panic. “What? N-no, I–”

“Because if that’s the case, I think I should just leave now.” You chugged the rest of your glass and set it down on the coffee table. 

He gently kept you seated by placing a hand on your bicep. You could feel his heat searing through your shirt. “Kitten, no! Listen! I’m sorry I said that. I really just wanted to make you dinner.” You eyed him hesitantly. “We haven’t talked much since that night and I mostly just wanted to get the chance to talk to you alone…”

In your rush to get up, you hadn’t realized how close the two of your bodies had become. You were lost in his pleading eyes as you mumbled. “Then talk…” You tried to sound begrudged, but your voice came off more wistful than you had intended.

His thumb stroked your bicep from where he continued to hold onto it and he sighed. “I know that the other night just kind of happened out of nowhere.” You bit your lip and blushed, memories of the night flooding your vision and making his grip on you seem more intense than it actually was. He sighed and released your arm, allowing your vision to clear a bit. “I wanted to apologize for what happened… I know you’ve always hated me and I didn’t mean to take advanta–”

“What? I don’t hate you.” You blinked at him, bewildered. Yeah, you were always annoyed by him and were irritated by his constant overwhelming presence and teasing. But you wouldn’t say you hated the man.

He looked at you perplexed. “But I thought–”

You cut him off again by placing a delicate hand on his thigh and raising a brow. “Minho, just because I have a general distaste for your antics doesn’t mean I hate you.” He gazed into your weary eyes for a moment and then looked down at where your hand was resting on his bare thigh where his shorts had risen from sitting down.

You were suddenly all too aware of how you had involuntarily leaned toward him, and you pulled your hand back as if you had just placed it on hot coals. You cleared your throat and sat straight again. “So… you don’t hate me?” His wry grin made your blood boil. Damn girl! When did you become so thirsty?

You scoffed and tried desperately to look anywhere but at him. “Don’t get a big head Minho, you still are the most infuriating person I have ever met.” You pushed his shoulder and he cackled. Your lame attempt to hold back a smile was futile as you leaned back and let the couch envelop you once more. You lifted your chin to indicate the wine bottle on the table. “Do you have any more?”

________________________________________

You had tears in your eyes as you cackled hysterically when Minho was telling you of the time he and Jisung had been forced to make out at one of their parties during a truth or dare game. He explained that the rest of the group was even more bashful than they were when it was all said and done.

“When we dared your brother and Felix to do the same, even though Felix didn’t mind, your brother had to drink the nastiest assortment of cocktails just to get out of doing it. We teased him for months and Felix, to this day, threatens him with smooches.”

You had fallen over on his shoulder and clutched your stomach as it ached from the laughter. He couldn’t control his own chuckle as he sat down his half-empty wine glass next to yours and the two bone-dry wine bottles on the table. Needless to say, you were pretty tipsy.

“What do you mean by make out though? Are we talking just swapping a bit of spit? Or were you full-on licking each other’s tonsils?” You felt a lightbulb blink on in your head and you shot to sit up. “Ooh ooh! Show me how you kissed him!” You puckered your lips and leaned toward him, still unable to contain your giggles. He looked startled momentarily and he leaned back to look between your eyes and awaiting lips before you saw the makings of a smile grow on him.

“Oh, it would be my pleasure, kitten.” You watched the signature evil smirk on his lips and your breath hitched when his palm cupped your rosy cheek. Like a tiger, he pounced on you, making you lightheaded as he immediately intruded your mouth with his tongue.

He was relentless and you were struggling to keep up with his expert tongue as it roamed your mouth and he bit at your lips. His free hand wrapped itself around your waist and held you close as his lips pressed against you aggressively.

When he finally pulled back his hands and released your lips, you found yourself subconsciously reaching for him again. He looked almost as caught off guard with the kiss as you were. Your eyes were glazed over in a wild drunkenness on Minho that affected you way more than the wine had. His face abruptly turned serious when your hands wrapped around his shoulders and tangled in his hair to prevent him from retreating.

He searched your eyes and you found yourself feeling hot all over when he wiped away a stray tear that had escaped from your laughter just moments before the tension rose in the air. Before you knew it, you were surging forward and capturing his lips with yours once again.

He hummed in a surprised tone and returned his hands to your waist as you devoured him. Before long, you swung a leg over to straddle him and pulled yourself flush to him when the ache between your thighs became too strong.

He smiled against your lips but pushed you back by your shoulders. You glowered at him with a huff as he chuckled at your cute pout. “Kitten, I told you this isn’t why I brought you here. Not to mention the fact that we’ve been drinking.”

Your arms that were still wrapped around him still tried to pull him infinitesimally closer and you basically growled like a cock-hungry animal in heat when he resisted. “I get that you’re trying to be polite, Minho, but I legitimately want the opposite of that right now.” His push wavered and you got close enough to whisper against his lips. “I want you to be disrespectful, Minho. I want you to be absolutely filthy.”

You briefly passed your tongue over his pouty upper lip and you could tell that his resolve was close to ruin. His closed eyes and the low rumble in his throat proved as much.

When he still refused to falter, you glared at him with a fire that could burn through his soul. Time to bring down the hammer. “Please, Minho. You aren’t likely to have me so shamelessly groveling for dick again.” You challenged and his eyes opened with a new darkness to them.

You slightly heard him curse under his breath and you were abruptly flipped over onto your back with the man between your legs, your hair splayed out against the velvety soft leather of the couch. “You’re going to wish you hadn’t requested me to be so rude to you, kitten.” He growled as he lewdly surveyed your body with his hands.

“Try me.” You dared him once again, already breathless.

He licked his lips and bit at his lower one as his eyes skimmed the bare skin from your ankles to your shorts. His hands roved over your legs slowly and the ache became even more prominent. You huffed in frustration.

“Minho! Get on with it!”

He looked down at you with an expression you had never seen before and you shivered when he grabbed your arms with blinding force and pinned them above your head. He whispered against your lips with malice. “You want me to be disrespectful?” You pondered, but could only dumbly nod your head as a certain vibration racked your body, the sensation making you an airhead fuckdummy. “Then shut the fuck up, kitten. Or you won’t get anything tonight.”

You were speechless. You had no clue how frightening Minho was when he wanted to be and you knew that you had probably drenched your panties all the way to your shorts with how aroused you were getting. His grip on your wrists had you arching up into him and his bulge against your crotch had you panting.

He sneered and abruptly smoothed his tongue up the column of your neck all the way until he sucked your ear lobe into his mouth and nibbled on it. You whimpered and spread your legs further to urge him to press closer.

To your dismay, he pulled his pelvis away from yours as if he knew exactly how much it would drive you mad. You groaned in frustration and glared up at the man smirking triumphantly above you when he wouldn’t release his grip on your wrists. “Fucking Lee Minho! You’d better do something soon or I’m just going to go home and take care of it myself!”

He moved a hand but refused to release yours as he held both of your wrists with the strength of the one that continued to pin your arms. “Is that so?” With his freed hand, he slowly traveled the back of his index finger in a feather-light touch down the center of your forehead. “Because I don’t think…” His finger slowly cascaded down the arch of your nose and over the crest of your lips to continue its way down your neck, cleavage, and abdomen. “...that you can touch yourself the way I can…” Well, shit.

His eyes that had been following the trajectory of his finger suddenly snapped back up to your face as he traveled his way down to the crotch of your shorts, sneaking up inside them from the leg hole and breaching your panties to just barely graze your throbbing entrance. Your brows furrowed and your voicebox had a mind of its own when it ripped out a desperate whine and a small “please”.

His eyes were dripping with lust and you watched as his tongue swiped over his delicious plump lips. “Fuck, that word sounds so pretty coming from your mouth… Say it again for me, beautiful?”

The fog of red mist that blurred your vision and rationality slightly died down enough for you to remember to act annoyed with him. You just glared up at his dark irises in defiance.

He smiled wickedly, knowing precisely what you were playing at. “Wanting to be a brat, are we?” His fingers, which were still playing with the edge of the crotch of your panties, retreated from your shorts entirely and you could have sworn you felt a frustrated scream rise in your throat.

“Wait!” You whined and his hand paused on your inner thigh. You closed your eyes and resigned yourself to becoming a vulnerable bitch-baby tonight, too heated for any alternative. When you opened your eyes, you made sure they looked like hot embers that would burn through his self-restraint and, if the defenseless expression on his face had anything to say about it, you had succeeded. And to hopefully drive your efforts home, you sensually whispered. “Minho… Please.”

The last word came out in a broken whine and you inwardly congratulated yourself when you heard his breath hitch just the tiniest bit.

You weren’t quite sure of the chain of events, but in the blink of an eye, you were thrown over his shoulder and carded away to somewhere else in the apartment. He moved so fast that before you could say anything, you were being thrown down onto a plush mattress and had hands fumbling with the button of your shorts.

When you lifted your hips so he could yank off all obstacles between him and your bare body, you sat up to quickly undo his own jeans. It felt like you couldn’t get them off fast enough, hands shaking with anticipation. When both of you were finally stripped bare, he had you pinned down again with one of his hands and his other hand was already exploring your wet folds.

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” He groaned against your lips and you could only whimper in response as he slid two fingers inside you and immediately curled them to find your sweet spot again. “You want me to be disrespectful?” He questioned with a smile that pressed up against your panting mouth. When you nodded, he released your hands and crawled in between your legs. “Then I’m not stopping until you beg for my cock.”

The fingers inside you immediately got to work and he sucked on your clit with a force that blinded you. “HOLY FFF–” You couldn’t even finish the word as it got stuck in your throat from the overwhelming velocity he was working with to bring you to your first orgasm. Your hand involuntarily slapping and gripping the sheets with force.

Your jaw was slack and your whole body tense with all of the sensations you felt all at once. Your fingers slowly tangled in his soft blonde hair and you couldn’t even breathe when you reached your starry peak. When your orgasm settled and you finally exhaled with a loud, drawn-out grunt, you realized he wasn’t stopping nor slowing down. If anything, he seemed to be working even harder, flicking your pearl with his tongue even firmer, and thrusting his fingers even faster.

Now, instead of being unable to breathe, you were almost hyperventilating with the oversensitivity of it all. You could definitely finish your words now as you clutched the sheets with white knuckles. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck Minho! Minho! OhgodMinho!” His name was a mantra on your tongue and you could almost see the smirk in his dark eyes as he looked up at you.

You were in too much bliss to care at the moment and after your next orgasm crashed over you, you came down from it with a sob. When he still refused to relent, you were in a purgatory of whether it felt like the greatest pleasure you had ever felt or the most painful oversensitivity you could think of.

However, after those first and second orgasms, the next ones seemed to have a snowball effect. The next one happened even sooner after the other and the next one was even faster than the last. This continued until your whole body was in a constant state of tremors. You could barely even recognize your own voice through your sobs as you begged. “P-p-please M-Min–” You exclaimed before a gasp of much-needed air. “Please! I-I need y-you!!”

He smiled up at you and relented, crawling back up to hover over you as he pressed the fingers that were covered in your juices to your awaiting lips. You sucked them in immediately, eyes hooded as you watched his lustful gaze. You suddenly felt him pulling your jaw down with those fingers to open your mouth for him and, once you had opened all the way with his fingers on your tongue, He stuck his own tongue as far into your mouth as he could possibly reach and he licked up the roof of your mouth.

The feeling of the wet muscle against your gums made you want to plead for him to do more god-awful things to you.

You whimpered as your free hand floated between the two of you to grasp his leaking cock. His mouth froze on yours and you felt the vibrations from his moan reviberate into your own mouth. As he released your jaw and moved away from your mouth, you began giving him lazy pumps to coax him to do more. “I need you, Minho. Please…” He froze in place, as if trying to regain his composure, but he failed miserably.

He seemed to be just as desperate as you because he was off you and pulling out a condom from his bedside drawer in a flash of dewy beauty. Your eyes hazily roved over his body as he tore open the condom. You couldn’t deny it, he was most undoubtedly the most beautiful creature you had ever laid eyes on and it pissed you off to admit it.

When he had finally rolled the rubber over his length, you were startled when he roughly flipped you over on your stomach and lifted your hips in the air, slowly sinking into you as the stretch caused both of you to moan in tandem. He had one of his hands digging his fingers into your waist and the other tangling into the hair at your nape, both of them using you as leverage to begin forcefully thrusting inside you with a vengeance.

Your face, which was firmly pressed into the silky smooth sheets, was scrunched up in pleasure and oversensitivity that was arguably even more delectable than before. You had no clue why it felt so good to be manhandled, but you soon realized that this was yet another one of the unknown pleasures that Minho had introduced you to. You were bound and determined to discover even more with him.

You felt like you were melting into the earth as he pounded into you and you felt yet another overpowering pressure threaten to explode in your core. Every thrust pushed out a tiny yelp from your lips and you felt Minho move both of his hands to your breasts and bend down next to your ear. “You have one more for me, kitten. I know you do.” With that, he tweaked your nipples and you cried out loud enough you were sure you shook the foundations of the building. “That’s it, good girl. Cum for me.”

You were shaking profusely through your orgasm and he pumped into you with blinding force until he, too, came unraveled from the pleasure he found in you.

The air was mingled with your combined panting and the steam rising from yours and his skin. When you felt him pull out of you, it was all you could do to not pass out then and there. Your head was in a haze and you just laid there, limbs limp, for an unspecified amount of time. You could vaguely hear some shuffling from somewhere inside his apartment. Some running water, a door opening, and closing, then your field of vision was obstructed by the man standing in front of you in just a pair of boxer shorts.

Holy shit, he’s so goddamned gorgeous.

He set down a glass of water on the nightstand and started wiping your spunk and sweat off of you with a damp cloth. “M-Min, I can–”

“Shhh.” He quieted you, but you were adamant. He had made it painfully clear that none of this was serious, so there was no point in staying longer.

You reluctantly lifted yourself off of the bed and slunk away from his unidentifiable expression as he stood watching you, towel in hand. “I’m going to have to leave anyway so I’ll just save you the trouble. I’ll shower at home.” You really didn’t want to have to make the trip back to your place, but when you looked at the time, it was already almost time for the last nearby transit to stop for the night. “Oh shit, I have to go, I’ll miss the bus!” 

You rushed to collect your clothes scattered about the room and you watched out of the corner of your eye as the man aggressively threw the towel in his laundry bin. “If you are gonna leave, at least let me take you home.”

You grimaced at the sharpness of his voice. “What’s the big deal?” To the naked eye, he seemed blasé, but you could tell he was secretly aggravated by the way he pursed his lips and crossed his arms.

He swiftly ran his hand through his hair, still mussed from your eager fingers earlier. It seemed as if he was deep in thought, looking at nothing off to the side until he neutralized his face, looking back at you. “Nothing at all.” He shrugged, feigning indifference. “I would just rather you not head back home so late by yourself.”

You sighed in defeat, the stress of the day beginning to weigh on you. “Fine.” You grumbled and turned to head towards the front door. “Let’s go.”

“Right now?” He asked as he hobbled after you while trying to put on his pants at the same time.

“Yes, Minho. Right now. I’ve sobered up and it’s making me super tired and I have class early in the morning.” Again, he was silent as he threw on the rest of his clothes and led you out of his apartment.

The car was eerily silent the entire way back to your house and when you got out of the car, his only farewell was a solemn “G’night.” Before slowly driving away.

Much to your dismay, the whole encounter made the night a sleepless one and you knew the next day would be a complete nightmare.

________________________________________

Your head drooped as you struggled to keep your eyes open in the back of class. Several times throughout the day, you had found yourself nodding off in every single one of your lectures. Not to mention the weather was absolutely horrid with the muggy April rain and thunder that threatened to lull you to sleep every other minute. By the end of your last class, you were finally confronted about it.

When you had eventually fallen completely asleep on your desk, you had awoken to a loud thud of a foot hitting the leg of your desk. Your head whipped up at the speed of light and saw your professor standing over you with an arched brow and a disapproving frown. “Really? Now? I would have expected this of some of the other students, but you?”

She shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger. You quickly stood up and collected your things. “Oh my god, professor I’m SO sorry! I had a hard time sleeping last night and–”

“I don’t care about the reason, just don’t let it happen again.” And with that, she left you without another word, bulldozing over the words that were lingering on your lips. 

You marched out of the classroom, unbelievably irritable and aggravated. It’s not your fault you were up all night! Your mind refused to let you sleep! If anyone is to blame, it’s Lee fucking Minho. Why did he have to act like such a pouty prick last night? Just because you saved him the effort of cleaning you even though you were going to immediately shower when you arrived back home?!

You were silently fuming as you made your way through the building and, on your way to the exit, the man of the goddamned hour showed up. Speak of the fucking devil! He was next to an open classroom door that students were filing out of while he leaned up against the wall talking to a classmate.

She was a small, cute, petite blonde and you don’t know why, but just the sight of the duo disgusted you. She giggled and placed a delicate hand on his bicep and you wanted to barf. You knew he was free to see and talk to whoever, but how was it fair that he was wide awake and acting as if he didn’t just get laid the night before while you were utterly miserable?

You had to walk right by him to get out of the building and you were feeling pretty petty anyway, so you used the students passing nearby to your advantage as you fell into step with them. When you neared the couple, his back was to you and you ‘accidentally’, and rather aggressively, shouldered past him and continued on your merry fucking way.

You hadn’t even made it more than a few meters before you heard your name being called and the pattering of fast-paced footsteps nearing you. You decided to just continue walking as if you didn’t hear him and you finally felt the man grab your arm and swing you around to face him. A scowl was already reared and ready to go on your face when he turned you around and it just deepened when you saw his stupid beautiful face with his stupid cocked eyebrow.

“To what do I owe this delightful company you bring on such a gloomy day?” What a complete shift from his icy attitude last night… You couldn’t disguise the absolute disgust that lingered on your face as the petite blonde who Minho had been talking to just moments before decided to slide her slim fingers down Minho’s strong forearm as she passed.

“See you tomorrow night, Minho.” She purred in a sultry tone and a lustful gaze as she walked away backward for a few steps before finally turning and strutting down the hall.

You turned back to Minho with the nastiest grimace you could muster and he looked at you even more smug than before. “Better watch out, kitten. Your jealousy is showing.” He chuckled as he whispered the words close in your ear. The entirety of your hair follicles stood on end and you willed away your goosebumps as you stepped away from him.

“Stop spewing your shit. What do you want with me, Min?” Your question was clipped and you didn’t wait for a response before you started walking towards the exit once again.

He quickly caught up to you and walked in front of you backward, facing you as if it were the easiest thing in the world to match your pace despite the direction he walked. His grin was still dopey and stupidly attractive. “Someone’s got her panties in a twist! Didn’t like my friend back there?” You could see the taunting in his eyes and you just wanted to wipe that stupid smirk from his face.

“I couldn’t care less about your friend.” You failed to hold back the venom from your voice as you spoke and his smile grew. You huffed. “Unlike you, I don’t spend all my free time fucking my friends.” Again, the words were dripping with malice.

His smile faltered. “And who ever said I was fucking around?” His voice had become slightly agitated and you tried to appear unfazed by it.

You shrugged and looked straightforward, just to realize the two of you had come to a complete stop in the abandoned hallway. “You seem to take that sort of stuff pretty lightly, considering all things, and it doesn’t take a genius to see the effect you have on people.” You didn’t even have the chance to gauge his reaction before you were pulled to the side by your forearm.

The next thing you knew, You were being pushed against the door of a small, dark room off to the side. Is this a fucking janitorial closet?

“For your information–” You couldn’t see his face too clearly, but his voice almost sounded like a snarl. Threatening even. “I don’t take that shit lightly. I barely even know that girl outside my classroom.”

“But she said–”

“For christ’s sake, there’s a party tomorrow night! It’s Chris’ last one before he graduates and he wanted me to be there.”

You blanched. “Oh…” You kind of felt hurt that you didn’t know about it, but these were technicallty your brother’s friends. They had no obligation to babysit his little sister while he was away.

You were ever grateful to the pitch darkness of the room so Minho wouldn’t see the sheer disappointment on your face, but his eyes must have adjusted to the light because you suddenly felt the feathering of his fingertips over your cheek. “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, kitten.”

You willed back the angry tears and slapped his hand away. “There’s no misunderstanding, Min. We’re fuck buddies. It’s none of my business what you do and don’t do with other people.” It was silent for a beat before you continued. “And I don’t need to know what our–” You huffed and pursed your lips, whipping your head to the side so you didn’t have to face him. “...what your friends are up to.”

He was quick to place his hands on your arms and step closer. “Kitten! They’re your friends too–!”

You wanted to punch something and you cut him off with a raised voice. “And speaking of late night shenanigans–!” You pressed your finger to his chest. “You.” Your eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness and you watched as he backed up with wide, befuddled eyes from your aggressive shift in demeanor. “I was up all fucking night because you decided to keep me all wound up from everything that happened last night!”

You could faintly see him trying to hold back an amused smile and stifle a laugh. You almost growled at him as you grabbed his retreating form by the shoulders and turned him around so you were the one pressing him against the door now. “It’s not fucking funny! I got chewed out by my professor because I fell asleep in class!”

He made no attempt to hide his amused smirk and he laughed at your pissed scowl. He leaned down to face level with you and narrowed his smug eyes. “Oh? Did I leave you wanting more?” You scoffed in disbelief at his audacity. “Because I would have happily taken care of it for you if you had stayed with me.”

You were burning from the inside out and you couldn’t tell if it was from the rage or the tension that permeated the small room.

He straightened back up and sighed. “You only have yourself to blame, kitten.” He tried to free himself from your grasp, but you refused to release him. Instead, your body moved on its own as you crashed your lips to his.

You could feel the bewildered tension in his body only for a millisecond before he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you against him, his tongue eagerly falling in sync with your own. You pulled back only slightly to hiss against his lips. “Fuck that. This is your fault and you’re going to fix it.” 

With that, you began quickly unclasping his belt and popping the button open on his jeans. “Woah! Kitten, we’re at school!” Although his words said otherwise, his actions made no move to stop you.

“Exactly. And you’re the one who felt the need to hide us away in this godforsaken closet, so we’re going to make good use of it.” You refused to look him in the eye as you sank down to your knees and mouthed at his slowly hardening dick over his boxer briefs.

The shudder of his breath was music to your ears and you hummed against him when he smoothed his hands over the top of your head. “Fuck, kitten…” He groaned. “I thought I was supposed to take care of you.” You felt the soft thud of his head leaning back against the door.

You pulled your mouth away so you could free his erection from its breaches. “Yeah, and I would rather be ‘taken care of’ with a hard dick rather than one so flaccid you’d think you just walked in on your naked grandma.” You eagerly sucked down his length and the weight of his cock on your tongue made you press your thighs together.

His voice was strained as he grunted his approval. “Trust me, kitten. You’re able to make me hard as a rock in no time at all, even without needing to do all this.” With that, he grabbed your hair and pulled your mouth off him. He bent down and angled your head up to look straight at him. “Now get up off that disgusting floor and I’ll make you cum so hard that you’ll feel it through next week.” The huskiness of his voice had you swimming in your panties and, after he tucked himself back in his pants, you quickly obliged as you let him drag you outside and to his car.

________________________________________

“Shitfuckshit more, Minho!” You were almost sobbing from the damned tease and the firm patterns he was applying to your clit in the car as he rushed back to his apartment. You were basically dry-humping his hand as he continued to torment you over the thin fabric of your leggings and you could almost cry in relief when he finally parked in the lot of his building.

You couldn’t get inside the door quick enough before you were on him like a pack of wolves, devouring every inch you could get your claws on. He was quick to respond as he returned your ravenous kiss and stuck his hand under the waistband of your leggings and underwear. His finger ran along your folds and you gasped at the delectable touch. “Shit… you’re so fucking wet…” He groaned against your mouth and you felt yourself being led backward so he could press you up against the wall.

He pulled away from your mouth to look at you as he slid two fingers into you and pressed his palm firmly against your clit. You threw your head back against the wall, jaw slack, as you held his strong forearm in a vice grip and ground down on his hand. All the while feeling the muscles move under the skin of his arm. He obviously enjoyed your reaction as he bit his lip to hold back a cheeky grin. You tried to restrain your noises, but a choked sob breached your lips when he latched his lips onto your neck.

His fingers were slowly thrusting in and out of you and it was heaven but hell at the same time. You couldn’t control the buckling of your knees and felt his other hand tighten around your waist.

When he was sure you wouldn’t fall, he retreated his hand from inside you and he laughed at your affronted face, completely offended that he would rob you of such pleasure. However, this was quickly rectified once he sunk down to his knees and stripped off your undergarments. You were breathing heavily as he looked up at you with blackened eyes that bore into your soul.

Wordlessly, he took one of your bare legs and draped it over his shoulder, pressing his moist lips to your inner thigh soon after. Your breath shuddered when his other hand ran its fingers through your inner labia once again and your gasp was evident when he gently kissed your clit. Still staring into your hooded eyes, he slowly inserted three fingers and you mewled at the stretch.

When his lips and tongue clasped around your clit, you were done for. Instead of thrusting his fingers, he was now digging and pressing rapidly against your g-spot as your orgasm washed over you. You whined and mewled as he led you through your high and you had absolutely drenched his face and your legs.

You grabbed at his shirt to pull him up and he chuckled as you pulled him by the collar to his bedroom.

You found yourself aggressively pushing him down on the bed and fumbling at his belt and jeans to rid him of them. When you finally shed both of y’all’s clothing completely, leaving no separation between your bodies, you instantly climbed up him to straddle him.

He quickly grabbed your hips as you lifted your hips to position him at your core. “Woah, wait! L-let me get a condom!” He shuffled to remove you from his lap, but you refused to move. Instead, you dropped yourself to place your sopping pussy up against the length of his flattened dick, not penetrating, just teasing as you slid your heat up and down him.

It looked as if the action knocked all of the breath out of him and the grip he had on your flexing thighs was enough to make you shudder from the delicious pain. He had his head thrown back against the plush bedding and had his eyes scrunched up as if he was using every ounce of his willpower to not just fuck you raw. But that was what you needed from him.

Still grinding on his twitching cock, you leaned forward to run your tongue along his collarbone. “Have you ever fucked anyone raw, Min?” You giggled as his head shot up and his eyes bulged out of his head.

“W-what?! No!” You bit your lip and closed your eyes momentarily, appreciating the drag of his tip against your throbbing clit.

When you opened your eyes again, he looked almost like he was in pain. “Well… I assume you’re clean… and I know I’m clean… and on birth control… and I’m used to not needing…” You looked away blushing and his dick twitched beneath you.

“Holy mother of god…” He slightly sat up and grabbed your face to smash your lips together, using his tongue to explore the entirety of your mouth before pulling back to search your eyes. “Are you absolutely sure, kitten?” He sounded distraught and your vision was hazed over with lust as you continued to grind on him.

“Of course, you might be a piece of shit, but I trust you…” You briefly moved your smirking mouth to nibble at his ear and whispered sensually into it. “I like the feeling of being filled up. The feeling of cum hitting my walls and spilling out slowly is my number one weakness.” He whispered dozens of expletives in response and squeezed you infinitesimally closer by your ass.

“Just a fair warning…” He growled against your neck as he lifted your hips. “I’m not sure how long I’ll last if I go in raw…” You giggled and reached in between your flush chests to grab his painfully hard erection to position him at your entrance and his breath shuddered as he rested his head against your shoulder.

Both of you emitted loud, pornographic moans as you sank down on him and you relished in the thought of your ass being bruised in the shape of his fingerprints. You had to wait and adjust to his size once more and you didn’t think you would ever be able to get over how amazing he felt. You were trembling, he was sweating, and both of you had moved to lazily entangle tongues.

When you made a move to start grinding, he gripped your hips again. “J-just a little bit longer… you have no idea how amazing you feel.” You don’t know why, but you felt a fluttering in your stomach and, in fear of what it might mean, you willed it away. Instead, you replaced it with mischievousness. 

You began a slow journey with your tongue dragging down his jaw, neck, and clavicle just to find your destination on his strong pec. You lazily kissed and sucked all around it and when you closed your mouth around his nipple, you squeezed your pussy tight around him just before you felt a jolt beneath you.

“Fuck!” He grunted and his fingers dug into your hips further, producing a pain that you would have never realized would be a turn-on. You could feel his glare burn into you where you were latched onto his pec and you hummed against him, repeating the action as you flicked your tongue. “Motherfu–”

He cut off his swear short when you felt yourself being lifted off of him and thrown onto your back in the soft bedding. You gasped and he growled as he sunk back inside you, this time not relenting as he crushed your cervix.

“You’re a fucking brat.” He snarled against where his mouth was devouring your neck. “You asked for this, kitten…” He left the skin of your neck chilled with his saliva as he pulled back and poised himself up on his knees. You were thrumming with need as you watched him grab your ankles and throw your legs over his shoulders, hefting your hips up with his strong arms and nailing you directly in your sweet spot.

The breath was knocked clear out of you.

Your eyebrows scrunched, your jaw slackened, and your whole body went taut with the overwhelming feeling of just him. He was all you could feel, see, smell, taste, and hear as he continued to relentlessly pound into you. Minho. Minho. Minho!

He folded you in half when he kneeled down to lick your lips open and you let him in willingly. It wasn’t long before your lips forgot to move against his as you released small “ah– ah– ah” ‘s with every thrust, all the while he was lapping up the saliva that pooled at the edges of your mouth. He barely had to even graze his thumb over your clit before you came with a cry of his name on your lips.

You were still riding your high when you ran a hand through his sweaty hair. You could see the restraint in his features. “Cum in me Minho, please.” His head dropped down to your breast with a moan and a few breathless expletives before you felt him empty himself inside you, a feral grunt seeping out of his clenched teeth that had bitten down on the swell of your breast.

You gasped at the delicious feeling and threw your head back, baring your neck to him and prompting him to glide his tongue up the length of it.

Once he pumped out every last drop and his tongue had finished properly tasting the entirety of your neck, he flopped over on his side next to you. The air almost seemed to be laden with steam and arousal and all of your exhaustion from the night before, that day, and the mind blowing sex came crashing down on you like a tsunami.

The last dregs of your consciousness were consumed with Minho cleaning you, changing you, and hydrating you before you passed out beneath the sheets that smelt like the concentrated scent of just Minho…

________________________________________

Hannie🐹:

Hey beautiful

Princess👑:

Well hello Jisungie

To what do I owe this rare attempt of social interaction?

Hannie🐹:

Oh shush, u haven’t tried to reach out either!

Princess👑:

True, but the question still stands

Hannie🐹:

Ur coming to Chan’s party tonight right?

You tried to bury the sting that the question presented, but it still hit a sore spot to know that even that one random chick Minho was talking to knew before you did. You gulped back the lump in your throat.

Princess👑:

I didn’t think I was invited

Hannie🐹:

What? Why wouldn’t u be?

Princess👑:

Well the fact that I had to hear about it from someone else was a big indicator

You cringed after you sent the message, realizing the salt that was poured all over that sentence.

Hannie🐹:

What?!?!

Princess👑:

It really is fine Hannie

No one expects you guys to include me just because I’m ur friend’s little sister

When he didn’t respond, you assumed he had just dropped the issue, deciding that you weren’t worth the trouble. However, as you were walking out of your last class of the day, your phone lit up in your hand with the caller ID indicating that your conversation was far from over.

“Hannie?” You raised the phone to your ear as you walked down the campus sidewalk.

“Pardon my manners, princess, but you’re a goddamned idiot if you think you’re only ‘his little sister’ to us.” You balked at his words. “For starters, you are our friend just as much as he is.” You felt your steps slow with each word from his mouth. “Secondly, the only reason you didn’t hear about it sooner is because Hwang Hyunjin is a complete pabo. He was in charge of telling you, like, a century ago and apparently he forgot to tell not only you, but a whole bunch of other people.”

Was that really true? Or was he just trying to make excuses?

“Either way, Chan definitely wants you there and I know for a fact that I want you there.”

“Ji, really, it’s fi–”

“Please?” You could practically already see the cute pout on his face and you habitually smiled.

After a long sigh and some deliberation, you caved. “Okay, fine. Send me the time and address.”

The next what felt like a whole thirty seconds was filled with the adorable sound of Jisung’s triumphant self-appreciation as he sent you the information. You couldn’t hold back the giggles of endearment for the man and the call ended with a smile on your face.

“Ooooh, who was that? If the smile on your face is anything to go by, its a boooy~” You heard your best friend’s chipper voice ring from where she sauntered up beside you, scaring you half to death.

You jumped and held your hand to your heart as she giggled at you. “My god, Tiff! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” She grabbed your hand that was pressed to your chest and swung your intertwined hands as she walked with you to the bus stop.

“Sooo, who was it?”

“Just Jisung.” You shrugged as the two of you sat on the bench to wait.

“Oh my gosh!” Tiffany gasped and clutched your arm, earning a raised brow from you. “Did he tell you about Chan’s party?! Are you going?!”

OF FUCKING COURSE she knew before you. You had to take a deep breath to maintain your composure and not blow the fuck up. “Yeah, are you?”

“Um, of course?!” She said as if you were crazy to even ask. “Do you think Minho will be there?”

Her question threw you for a loop and your mind was immediately brought back to earlier that morning when you snuck out of his apartment before he woke up. You definitely didn’t want to deal with the awkwardness of being kicked out so you went ahead and took it upon yourself to initiate the task.

You sucked your teeth in and stood up, watching as the bus slowly approached. “Yeah, I think so. Why?”

She flashed you a mischievous grin and swiftly turned to take a seat in the back. When you joined her, she swiveled in her seat to face you. “I want you to help me hook up with him.”

You felt like you had just been punched in the gut. “WHAT?!” You startled at your own raised voice and shyly bowed your head in apology to the few surrounding onlookers. You looked back to your friend and you really hoped your face didn’t betray your panic.

Why, of all people, did she want to start pursuing your Minho? No. No, he’s not yours. He’s just a friend. Was he even considered a friend? Shit, the lines were blurring.

“What? I totally know he’s into me and I might have a better shot tonight if you talk me up.” Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice your inner turmoil.

Wait.

What did she say?

“How do you know he’s into you?”

She rolled her eyes with a cheeky smile. “He saved my number, love. He texted me today and asked if we were going to the party. A guy doesn’t save a girl’s number unless he’s for sure into them. Especially if the girl has been very obviously flirting with them and is not just a buddy-buddy relationship.”

You felt like you had just been bitch slapped and you sensed an indescribable feeling rise in your throat, prompting you to force yourself to swallow it back. Why was he texting your best friend? “H-how do you know he’s not already taken?” You knew he wasn’t, but you couldn’t stomach the thought of him being with your best friend.

“Again, he saved my number.” She actually seemed somewhat annoyed now. “What’s the big deal? Are you going to help me or not?”

Your throat was completely dry and you felt the heat pumping through your veins. “You can have so many guys, Tiff. Why Minho, exactly?” You grimaced as she crossed her arms and glared at you.

“Oh my fucking god. What is your DEAL? Is it just because you hate the man?! Get over yourself, sweetheart. He’s a grown man and I’m a grown woman and there is clearly a mutual attraction so I’m not going to let your pettiness get in the way of my fun. If it really bothers you, then forget I asked. I can win him over by myself anyway.” She sneered as she turned her attention to the window and thus ended the conversation.

You felt tears prick at your eyes and you didn’t quite know where you were, but you pressed the button to be let out of the bus anyway. Why? Just why did it have to be her to steal him? No, not steal… He’s not yours…

He’s NOT yours…

When you stepped out, you took a large gulp of fresh air and willed the tears away. You refused to let her demean you. You refused to let her ruin your fun tonight. You refused to let her win. The fucking bitch needs to be knocked down a few notches and learn that she can’t just earn everything by spreading her legs. Well, that is if Minho didn’t take her bait…

________________________________________

Tiff💞:

Hey babe

Can we just forget about earlier?

I’ll see you tonight kay?

😘

Not even an apology or anything. What a bitch. You probably looked like you had murder on your mind as you looked down at your phone and back up at Chan’s frat house. You took a deep breath to will the fury from your soul and smoothed your hands over your clothes, only slightly self-conscious of the dainty material you had recently purchased. 

For no particular reason whatsoever, you had recently decided to go shopping for a few outfits of the, um… more mature variety. Not to impress anyone in particular… Definitely not to gain the attention of a certain someone… You just wanted to broaden your wardrobe. That’s it. No other reason…

You still wore your regular combat boots because there was no overcoming your ability to break your ankles in heels, but the rest of the outfit was definitely new to you. (Plus, the black boots kind of looked cute with the rest of the outfit.)

Your sheer black tights were silky smooth up your legs to be met with a short (almost too short) high-waisted solid black mini skirt. The real kicker was your top. It was a jet-black eyelash-lace corset/cami top that rose well above your navel and you were almost too chicken to wear it due to it looking practically like lingerie. But the issues with Tiffany and Minho made you uncharacteristically bold that night. You decided to wear a form-fitting leather jacket (also black of course), but it still left most of your top visible.

You, once again, willed your breathing to steady as you walked up the steps and opened the front door.

The party was in full swing as you warily made your way through the party goers. It was almost impossible to focus due to the crowd, the noise, the heavy air, and the dim lighting (minus the flashing and colored lights that lit up most of the open area of dancers).

Is this the norm for college parties?

You didn’t even know where you were going, you just knew there was one person you were subconsciously searching fo–

…Minho…

You halted in your tracks and you watched in horror as you saw that your best friend had found the man first.

Bile rose in your throat as you watched Minho hand her a drink with a smile and she clung onto his arm like a fucking leach. Hyunjin and Changbin were with them, but Tiffany only seemed interested in running her hands over Minho’s muscular arm and talking in his ear, entirely too close to him with her filthy lips.

You were sure you were gonna be sick.

You saw Minho’s eye wander about the room as Tiffany took a breath long enough to take a drink, and you panicked when his gaze snapped to yours. Before you could even acknowledge either of your’s reactions, you beelined it to the kitchen with all the alcohol that you had passed earlier and shoved your way through the crowd to hastily find the room and make your drink. A strong drink.

You had just finished stirring it when you felt a gentle hand on your elbow. You whipped your head around to be faced with the bane of your existence. He was so damned beautiful you wanted to just punch him square in the face. The top half of the buttons on his black button-up were undone to show off the low neckline of his white undershirt, causing your eyes to want to wander down to his perfectly defined chest that was adorned with a single silver pendulum necklace and a beaded choker that would look feminine on anyone but him. His blonde hair was styled back out of his face and it accentuated his beautiful, dark round eyes.

“Hey! I’ve been looking for you–” Before he could finish his sentence, he must have noticed your ensemble due to the fact that his eyes were bugged out and were blatantly gazing down at your clothes. “Oh fuck…” He whispered so low you almost didn’t catch it. When he cleared his throat and came back to the land of the living, his cheeks were pink when he said, “You look so fucking gorgeous…” Your exhale was shaky and you could almost get drunk off of his handsome grin alone. You hated it.

It took you a moment to rip your eyes from him, but when you did, you decided it was necessary for you to chug your drink for dear life.

“Woah, woah! The night’s only started!” When he made a move to still your cup, you pulled it away from him with a glower.

“For me maybe, but who knows how long you and ‘little miss man eater’ over there have been exchanging verbal foreplay.” Minho’s eyes widened comically and turned back to look at Tiffany who was glaring daggers at you both.

“I’m sorry, verbal what???” He asked incredulously as he turned back to you. You heard me dickwad. However, instead of voicing your thoughts, you just huffed out a disbelieving half-chuckle and turned back to refill your drink.

This definitely needs to be twice as strong.

“Oh my god, don’t tell me…” You rolled your eyes, already knowing where this was headed. “Kitten, are you jealous?” You turned back around to be met with a shit-eating grin and you were about two seconds away from kicking him where the sun doesn’t shine until you suddenly found the other five men you were here for huddled by a wall talking amongst themselves away from your so-called bestie.

You just clicked your tongue and rolled your eyes, walking away without a word and marching over to the group.

Jisung saw you first, a huge smile lighting up the entire room until it was instantly erased with an expression that looked like he suddenly shat out a brick. At first, you were concerned, that was until the other four followed his gaze and had the same series of reactions. It was only when you got closer that you saw all of them ogling your outfit and you found yourself wanting to shrink into yourself at the attention.

“H-Hey guys!” You said with a wary smile as you stopped in front of the semi-circle they made at your arrival. It was only from your words that their trances were broken and they all looked back up to your face with blushing faces before not-so-subtly avoiding your eyes. You felt embarrassment wash over you like a bucket of ice and you wrapped your arms around yourself as you averted your eyes down to make yourself look small. “I… I’m sorry… did I overdo the outfit? I haven’t really ever been to one of these parties. Heh…”

You nervously chuckled and rubbed the cold sweat off the back of your neck with one hand while the other was still firmly wrapped around your torso. “No!” You heard multiple panicked voices say in tandem before the sound of clearing throats.

Felix, the angel, smiled sweetly at you and stepped forward to wrap you in a hug. “Of course not, sweetie. You look beautiful.” He stepped back as the rest agreed and Jisung stole the next hug.

“More like a fucking goddess!” You felt your feet lift off the ground as he squeezed your waist and your cheeks flooded with heat when he pressed his soft lips to your cheek before retreating.

After the rest greeted you similarly, Chris stepped to the side to reveal a tray of shots on the small table behind him. “Now that the whole group is finally here, we can finally start the real fun!” You’re part of their group? Everyone grabbed one of the seven shot glasses before Chris handed yours directly to you with a whisper in your ear. “Don’t take anything from anyone unless they’re one of the six of us, yeah?” The hot breath you felt against you made you shiver, but you nodded regardless.

“Yah! Get out of her ear, perv!” Minho shouted from behind him as he held his own shot. Chris stepped back to look at him with raised brows, but you intervened first.

“Oh calm down, Minho. We’re all adults here.” Changing your threatening tone to a lighter one, you raised your glass. “To Chris’ last year! We’ll miss you Channie!” And you, in the slightly petty and tipsy mood, planted a kiss right on Chris’ cheek, startling the blushing man in the process. Tension set aside, everyone raised their glasses to dink ‘em and sink ‘em. Minho only downing his after he was finished glowering at your smug face.

You caught up with them for a little bit, but with every passing minute, you felt the drinks start to hit you. And, as per usual, when you drank, you got very… touchy-feely. Your first victim was Felix, but that was because the man was always ready for cuddles. After that, you had stolen Jisung from Minho, who was possessed with about the same amount of drunken clinginess, the latter having Jisung previously wrapped around him as the elder had his own arm thrown over his shoulder. However, Jisung was happy to switch to wrapping his arms around your semi-bare waist instead when you beckoned him.

It was just as Changbin was giving a very detailed speech to Hyunjin about the importance of cardio when you glanced over at Minho. Your eyes widened when you took in the absolutely livid expression he had directed at Jisung and Felix before a wry smile grew on your lips.

A plan formed in your head. A wicked, evil little plan to give Minho a taste of his own medicine. However, before you could execute it, the she-devil showed up and found purchase around Minho’s arm again.

“There you are! I thought you said you’d be right back!” She said with what was supposed to be a cute pout, but all you saw was the manipulative sneer hidden in her eyes as she glanced at you. Minho looked at her with wide eyes and then back at you with what looked like anxiety.

“Wha– I– Um…” As he was babbling in his loss for words, you pulled away from the boys surrounding you and turned around to face them with a dubious grin that didn’t reach your eyes.

With your back facing Minho, you downed your drink and rid yourself of your jacket, letting the refreshing air conditioning soothe your previously confined arms. When you placed your empty cup and jacket on the small table behind them, you extended your hands out to the men. “C’mon, who’s going to show a girl a good time tonight and dance with me?”

You eyed Chris who was already gulping down his own drink, the man staring at all the bare skin you had on display all the while, and setting his empty cup next to your own. You smiled up at him as he took one of your hands and you watched Jisung’s eyes flick over to Minho before grabbing your other one. Your smile brightened further and you hugged them both by the neck giddily before dragging them over to the makeshift dancefloor.

You could feel several pairs of eyes watch as the three of you retreated and you couldn’t help but feel somewhat smug with the thought of Minho and Tiffany being a couple of them.

You felt the alcohol wash away your anger and jealousy and let the upbeat music pump through your veins as you danced between the two men. At first, it was very PG, but the density of the crowd thickened and soon enough Chris was up against your backside while Jisung was against the front. The more hyped you got from the heavy air, loud beats, and strong drinks, the more bold your dancing became.

You had one arm thrown around Jisung’s neck and the other thrown around the back of Chris’ head from behind as you began grinding against the pair. They must have been equally as plastered because their roaming hands were definitely encouraging you. Jisung’s hands roved over your waist and abdomen as Chris’ paved their way up and down your hips and thighs.

All of you were sticky with sweat and the feeling of Chris’ breath on your neck and Jisung’s lustful eyes watching your body move was making you even hotter. Even though you were super insecure at the beginning of the night, you now felt bold and sexy and wanted. You felt a sliver of pride that you were still able to make men covet you even if… others didn’t.

After a while, you felt that same hot breath from behind you talk into your ear again. “I’m gonna tap out for a bit gorgeous.” Chris said before he kissed your cheek and weaved his way through grinding bodies to head back over to the group.

You returned your eyes to your remaining dance partner who met your gaze with hooded lids. You allowed yourself to be pulled flush against him, but you turned so your back was up against him now as you grinded and rolled against his firm body. Your whole mind was clouded and all you knew was how good the body against you felt.

With the man out of your line of vision, you closed your eyes and let yourself be consumed in the moment. Your hands reached back and threaded through his silky hair and you felt the fingers that trailed down your hips tickle the spot where your outer thighs met your skirt.

You gasped when you felt his hard cock push into your lower back and he squeezed you tighter when you rolled back into it. Gosh, Minho, you feel so good.

But why did Minho’s fingers feel longer when you went to grab them?

Your internal question was already forgotten when you felt his warm lips touch down on the soft curve of your neck and the next thing you knew, you were dragging him to the nearest secluded area to taste those lips that you always seemed to crave now. The lips that made you cum a hundred different ways by now.

Turns out the nearest secluded spot was a door that led out to a small side patio that was somehow completely deserted. Without much thought, you whipped back around with blurry vision as you pressed your lips to his. Well… tried to at least. It took a couple tries to hit your target, but when they did, you groaned and instantly tangled tongues with him. But…

Why does this seem so foreign? Does it just feel different because you were drunk? And had Minho been wearing a t-shirt this whole time?

When you allowed your hands to roam up under his shirt, the lustful groan the man emitted had your eyes flying open. That is definitely NOT Minho’s voice.

“Ji-Jisung?” He fluttered his eyes open when you sprang off of him, stumbling back like a fucking hooch monkey, and he gave you a confused blink.

“Wha– Huh? What’s wrong, princess?” He stumbled a bit as he picked himself off the wall you had pressed him against and you covered your mouth in mortification. You could only widen your watery eyes and shake your head in disbelief as you watched him look more and more concerned. It wasn’t until he grabbed your face to wipe your tears that you realized you started crying. “Oh my god, are you okay? Did I hurt you?!”

He sat you down on a patio chair to squat in front of you and rubbed soothing circles on your knee as you buried your face in your hands. “Nononononono!” Your turmoil was muffled behind your hands and you started sobbing as you looked back up at Jisung. “I-I’m s-so sorry J-Ji–” 

He was frantically searching your eyes and he ran his palms up and down your arms. “What in the world for?” Confusion was tattooed across his face and you felt even more ashamed that you would have to explain.

“I…” You tried to gulp down breaths to explain between sobs and slurred speech. “I d-din’know it was you who…” Another round of tears cascaded as you saw a distraught realization wash over him. You felt awful for using your friend so horrendously. You couldn’t believe how selfish you were just because you didn’t want to share…

Minho…

Minho must have gone home with Tiffany. Why wouldn’t he, right? She was beautiful and sexy and you were a completely sloshed jackass. He probably never wanted to see you ever again after one night with that dick-whipped cunt of a woman.

You felt your whole body start shaking as another round of sobs wracked your body and Jisung quickly wrapped you in his arms. “Shh shh, it’s okay. You haven’t done anything wrong, sweetie. It’ll be okay…” His calm and reassuring voice made you squeeze onto your friend for dear life.

“I-I’m s-so s–” He just continued his gentle hushing to get you to calm down and he helped you focus on your breathing. Tears still flowing down your face but sobs having died down, you sat back to look at him. “Ji…”

“Shhh, it’s okay. We’re both drunk, it happens.” He tried to give you a reassuring smile, but it didn’t do anything to make you feel like you weren’t an absolute piece of shit.

“Ji, I…” Your words had zero filter as they supplied a watery– “I-I think ’m in love w'Minho.”

His eyes widened. You expected him to freak out. To call you a whore or spit on you. What you didn’t see coming was the slow smile that crept across his cute cheeks. “Minho-hyung?” You nodded with a sniff and he instantly wrapped you in a hug again. His voice was muffled against your hair a bit, but he replied tenderly. “I can think of no person more deserving of your love than him.”

What on god’s green earth did he mean by that?

He sighed and pulled back again, wiping away more tears. “Have you thought about telling him that?” The question had your mind reeling and you felt sick of just the thought of it.

Wait. Maybe it’s not the idea that made you sick. Maybe it was…

In the blink of an eye, you threw yourself off the chair and leaned over the railing, immediately hurling your guts all over the manicured lawn below. As the snot, tears, and vomit evacuated your body, you felt Jisung’s cool hands pull your hair out of the way and rub soothing circles on your back. This man is just too good for this world…

You felt like you spent years over that railing, somehow more still coming out, until you heard the door to the house open and close. “What happened?” Was that Minho’s voice? Why is he still here?

You lifted your head to look back at him, not even considering the fact that you probably (most definitely) looked like a trainwreck on steroids. “W-why’re you he–” You couldn’t even finish the sentence before you were ralphing again.

“Evidently, she’d mistaken me for you, do you have that water I asked for?”

“Yeah.” When did he even ask Minho to come out here?

“Here, kitten. Drink this.” He held up a bottle of water next to you and you eagerly grabbed it. “Don’t chug.” He said holding it out of reach before he gave it to you. “You’ll make yourself even more sick.” You sat down again and slowly nursed on the water as your eyes stayed glued to the piece of artwork that was Lee Minho.

You watched his beautiful lips move as he faced Jisung, but you didn’t hear any of the words that were exchanged. All you could hear was the thrumming of blood through your veins in your ears and the bass of the music from inside. Also when you heard the beautiful melody of Minho’s laugh… MY. GOD. The man was just too perfect…

Your vision slowly faded as you stared at his pretty eyes and you just wished you could dive into the two black pools of his irises. The darkness that was slowly encompassing your vision was thwarted when you felt yourself being buckled into the back of an Uber by Minho as he slid in next to you and gave the driver his address.

Before you could think about what you were about to say, you chuckled. “Y’mean Tiff in’t ‘lready spread-eagle on yer bed?”

You expected him to get annoyed, but he just side-eyed you with an amused smirk. “You’ve got it pretty bad, huh?”

“Well excuse me for having experience with a man who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants for other college girls.” Well, that was surprisingly well-enunciated… However, before you could pat yourself on the back for that small victory, you were having a hard time keeping your eyes open and you raised your hand to take a drink, only to find your hand bottleless. Who the fuck drank all my water?

The look he gave you was melancholy and he gently pat your knee before responding. “Don’t worry, kitten. Tiffany isn’t at my place. And I doubt your parents would be thrilled to be woken up so late by hearing you stumble in the house at two in the morning. Hence my reasoning for us staying at my place. Is that alright?”

You didn’t even register your dumb nod as you zoned out on his beautiful face. His features were so breathtaking that your hand moved unbidden and you found yourself tracing the sharp contours with your shaky fingers. He didn’t move a muscle as your fingers ghosted over his nose, eyelids, jaw, and then finally the plump outline of his lips.

“Y-yer so b’tiful Min…” His eyes burned with a familiar fire and he gently lowered your hand when the car pulled up to his place.

________________________________________

Minho😈:

Where did u go?

Kitten?

R u at least safe?

Please talk to me

I called ur parents and they said ur alright

I’m sorry if I hurt u in any way

I would never intentionally do anything to harm u

U mean so much to me…

Just… let me know when ur ready to talk…

You scanned the texts that had been flooding in all day after you snuck out of his place without a word at the crack of dawn. Made easier due to the fact that he was courteous enough to sleep on the couch due to your inebriated state. You remembered everything. Everything. Including your agonizing realization of your feelings for the man. 

Your phone clattered to the ground when you chucked it and turned over in your bed to bury your face in your pillow. Luckily, you didn’t ever really get hangovers, but that didn’t mean you weren’t entitled to a day to wallow in self-pity. So this is where you’ve been all day, the night quickly approaching as you squeezed your pillow tighter.

You weren’t worthy of his attention. You were just a convenient pussy. Tiffany is way more experienced and probably showed him some of that expertise last night. If your last boyfriend couldn’t even be satisfied with you, who else would? You were a shit friend who used Jisung, one of your best friends, as a tool. You were worse than nothing. You were a disease.

You felt yourself drowning in a sinkhole of your thoughts before a knock at your bedroom door pulled you out of it. You kept your face buried as the door opened and heard your mom’s sweet voice. “Honey?”

You just responded with a non-commital grunt.

“Minho called again…” Silence. “Honey, I know you two were never on the best of terms, but he’s trying so so hard to mend that since your brother left. I don’t know what happened between you two, but I just know he sounded genuinely upset.” You felt the tears well up in your eyes and kept your head firmly planted in ur pillow, slowly suffocating yourself.

You felt a dip next to you in the bed and the gentle hand of your mother rubbing your back. 

She was silent for a moment before she sighed. “I never told you this, just because he asked me not to, but I think it might be necessary now…” That caught your attention just enough to twist your head to look at her loving smile. “When you and your boyfriend broke up, Minho called me every single day for a week to check and see if you were alright. He was the one who bought your favorite snacks every day, not your dad.”

You furrowed your brows and sat up next to her. “W-why didn’t he want you to tell me?”

She gave you a soft smile and patted your knee before she stood up. “That’s something you’re going to have to ask him yourself.” She turned back to you when she reached the door. “Your father and I are going to an office party tonight and won’t be back until late. Really late.” She raised her brow, hinting at a suggestion. “Call us if you need anything. I love you, sweetie.”

“Love you too, Mom…” You mumbled as she left the room.

When the door shut behind her, you pulled your knees to your chest and buried your face in your hands. How could this happen? You’ve disliked this man ever since high school, it just doesn’t make any sense to start falling in love now. I mean, his dick is magic, sure. But you’ve been craving to just see him any time of day just to simply be around him! He’s probably sick of your mixed signals and mood swings.

It had taken you by surprise when you woke up an hour later to the sound of the doorbell, not even realizing you had fallen asleep in the first place. Your parents had probably already left when you were sleeping, so you scrambled up out of your bed and went to answer the door.

When you opened the door, your heart stopped. No other man on the planet could sport a bare face, discheveled hair, and sweatpants and still look like a fucking god like Minho did. You had only started to realize just how gorgeous he was when he hit his senior year of high school. It had pissed you off at the time, but now… well, actually no, it still pissed you off. It just wasn’t fair to have such power over you with that piercing gaze and ability to make hearts stop at the sight of him.

“Minho…” You whispered as your eyes widened. He stood in the doorway and scratched the back of his head.

“Sorry, I… I didn’t want to let myself in because… because I didn’t know if you wanted to see me or not…” I always want to see you. You cursed your own thoughts for being so weak for the man. Without a word, you stepped to the side to let him in. “I’m sorry for showing up unannounced, kitten. But I just had to make sure you were alright.” He mumbled as he looked down to step out of his shoes. “Or upset with me…”

Boots unexpectedly ran up to Minho with a cute little meow as she rubbed her face and beautiful black fur against his legs with quiet purring. You both smiled down at the adorable feline and Minho bent down to scoop her up in his arms, knowing how much she loved to be held (unlike other cats) by people she trusted. You felt a fluttering in your chest just watching him hold her. Knowing that, just like your precious boots, you had also come to care for the man. 

You raised your hand to pet Boots, but your eyes were fixed on Minho’s. “I’m not upset with you Minho… If you want someone else, it’s not my place to get in between that.” You turned to head back to your room, but as you approached your bedroom door, a gentle hand loosely wrapped itself around your wrist and stopped you in your tracks.

You warily turned around and Minho’s expression was a mixture of anger and hurt. “If you think, even for a second, that I prefer her over you, you’re more stupid than I thought.” He said the words with a lethal calm that made shivers run down your spine. Your face was incredulous, but he ignored it. “The idea that I would prefer anyone over you is almost an insult.” You allowed him to pull your body closer to his as he now had his hands wrapped around your waist. “I think of you every morning when I wake up and every night when I go to sleep. I’ve been hating myself ever since we started this whole arrangement because I feel like I’m just taking advantage of you, which was not my intent at all. But I didn’t want to stop it either because I don’t want to… I don’t want to lose what we have… I don’t want to lose you…”

You closed your eyes from the burning you felt pricking at your tear ducts and involuntarily leaned into his touch when the backs of his fingers gently brushed over the flushed skin of your cheek.

“You’re so, so beautiful, kitten. Inside and out.” It was unlike Minho to get so sentimental, but he seemed to feel the need to speak his piece. Even if it caused a dusting of pink blooming on his ears and cheeks. However, your blush felt like it rivaled his as it radiated all throughout your body.

Your hands, which had been curled up against his chest, started fidgeting as you looked down at them. You didn’t know if you should ask him or not, but you decided you needed to know. “Minho… why… why did you call my mom to check up on me after my breakup?”

He stiffened momentarily, but quickly recovered. You looked back up at his face and it was turned to the side, completely crimson. “I…” His lips formed a tight line and then relaxed as he turned back to look at you. “I couldn’t stand the thought of what that prick did to you. I wanted to go beat the living shit out of him, crush his nuts, curb stomp him, anything, but I realized that you would most likely prefer comfort over violence. But I knew that one of the last people you would want to see would be me, so I tried to help from the sidelines.”

Your lip wobbled slightly and you pressed yourself a bit closer to him. You were mad that you couldn’t even disagree with him because, at that point in time, you would’ve dreaded the idea of this man, usually void of sentimentality, coming to attempt to comfort you.

The only real comfort you had was Tiffany and, looking back on it, she was pretty shit at it. Now that you’ve realized what a bitch she was, you could recount several occasions where she was just a toxic friend. And you were blind to the situation in favor of seeing the truth.

“So…” You were almost too afraid to ask the question you didn’t know you wanted an answer to or not. His hand that had been stroking your cheek moved to lift your chin up to look at him. His eyes portrayed patience and attentiveness to your words. “Did… did anything happen between you and Tiff?”

The corners of his lips turned down as he furrowed his brow, but it soon morphed into an expression that screamed ‘really?’. He sighed. “Like I said, I only prefer you. I have not and will not ever see her or want her that way.” His eyes flickered from your eyes to the floor in anxiousness and added with an adorably shy mumble. “I don’t want anyone but you.”

Relief washed over you like a tidal wave and your body moved on its own when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and ran your fingers through his sandy hair, pressing your lips to his with a tenderness that you had not shared with him before now. You could feel relief flooding him as well as he relaxed under your touch, as if kissing you released all tension in his body.

This kiss wasn’t like the hungry and ravenous ones you two had always shared. This one felt as if you could melt into each other and become one. It was slow, sensual, and filled with all the love you could possibly portray. As you paused the kiss and pressed foreheads together, you closed your eyes as if to pretend you weren’t about to say the words just begging to leap off your tongue.

“Minho… you still annoy the shit out of me, but…” He offered a wry smile against your lips and you opened your eyes and disconnected foreheads to watch him raise his brow with a smirk. You bit back your smile and hid your face in his neck. “...I think I might be in love with you?” You said it like it was a question, almost too quiet to hear, as if you weren’t quite sure if you should’ve said it.

He was silent and you were apprehensive to raise your head. But, when you finally looked at him, you proceeded to witness the most beautiful smile you had ever seen appear on his face. You tried to suppress your suddenly bashful smile, but he only squeezed you tighter. He bit his lip to do the same with his own grin, but he morphed his look to something more mischievous. “Are you sure you don’t just like me for my incredible skills in providing mind blowing orgasms?”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a light smack on his pec. “Ah yes, you’re right! How have I been so blind? I’m only in love with your dick.” He just chuckled at your words dripping with sarcasm and stole a kiss, slow and controlled before he murmured against your lips.

“I love you too, kitten. I have for quite a while now.” Your eyes widened and you could have sworn you saw a bit of fear in his eyes before he was biting his lip again, a smile hidden just beneath the surface.

“W-wha–? How long?!” You pulled back slightly to see his full face and he giggled bashfully. Lee Minho being bashful? He was always so confident and controlled that you almost wanted to capture this moment on camera.

“Well… honestly, it’s been ever since you started dating that douchebag. I didn’t really know why I started to be such an obnoxious dick to you, but I later realized it was just because I was jealous.” He pulled you close once again and tentatively kissed your jaw.

Your heart was racing at the thought of him being in love with you even if you were with another man, yet not interfering directly. But now you finally had him, and you were determined to keep it that way. You squeezed yourself infinitesimally closer to him and kissed his lips slowly before saying, “Well, now I’m yours.” Your lips drifted to whisper in his ear. “Let’s make up for lost time.”

You made your point very clear when you grazed your lips and teeth down the side of his neck while pushing your pelvis into his. “Fuck…” He let out a low groan and slid his hands down to the lower cleft of your ass and gave your cheeks a light squeeze. He captured your lips with a sudden ferocity that made you tremble. Once he led you backwards into your room and pressed your body against the door as he closed it, your passion increased tenfold.

He ground his thigh against the apex of your glistening cunt, your panties dragging along your clit, and the pressure had you gasping against his tongue. Your hips couldn’t help but to roll against him and you could feel the effect of your efforts when he pressed his groin into your hip. You whined in pleasure when he lifted one of your legs and wrapped it around his hip, pushing even closer to you and making it easier to drag the length of your sopping crotch down him.

His other hand, which had still been kneading your ass, moved around to slip up under your shirt to feel the skin of your waist and lower back. You emitted a gasp and then a moan when you felt his warm fingers crawl up under your bra and fondle your erect nipple. You bit your lip to hold back an embarrassing noise you felt crawling to the surface when his lips latched onto your collarbone and started leaving sweet kisses up the length of your neck.

Your fingertips ran up under his shirt to caress his abs and pecs and he took it upon himself to take his shirt off, quickly ridding you of yours shortly after, lips barely leaving each other as you stripped each other completely bare and you pushed him down on the bed to straddle him.

“Shit kitten… you’re unreal…” He stared up at you as if you had hung the moon and he rubbed his hands up and down your thighs gently, as if you were a fragile porcelain doll. You leaned down and began marking up his beautiful chest, but he cupped your cheeks and brought your lips up to his own, placing his hands on your thighs once more. “Can I taste you baby? Make you feel good?” With each word, his hands drifted up to your dripping pussy until his fingers were teasing your entrance.

When he finally plunged a single digit in up to the first knuckle, you found yourself choking on a gasp and nodding frantically. He moved with a speed that made you dizzy when he flipped you onto your back and knelt between your legs.

He stared at your cunt with a hunger that made you shy, but you held back the urge to close your legs in self consciousness. When he looked back up at you and hovered his mouth over where you were aching for him most, he made eye contact as he licked a fat strip up the entirety of your crotch, making sure not to neglect your clit as he sucked it into his mouth and swirled his tongue around the swollen bud.

You threw your head back and moaned like a brainless whore as your hands gravitated to his beautiful blonde mane. However, your head wasn’t down long as you were determined to watch this adonis of a man feast on you. And when he inserted a finger inside you, you were done for. He held your hips down with bruising strength as you writhed beneath him and added a second finger.

You were reduced to a whimpering mess as the man fucked you with his fingers slowly, wanting to gradually build your pleasure. “Minho!” You whined in both gratitude and frustration. He smiled as he briefly pulled his mouth away.

“You gonna melt on my mouth, kitten?” You were beyond words and could only nod your head to communicate. “Say it again…” He breathed against you, making you tingle from the hot air coming from between his lips.

You immediately knew what he meant and your heart swelled. “I love you, Minho.” You gasped and rolled your eyes back as he instantly crooked his finger up into your g-spot and returned his mouth to you. Only this time, his tongue joined as he quickly thrusted his fingers in you with precision. “Fuck I love you so much! Shit!” You screamed his name as you did, indeed, melt on his mouth.

He lapped up your orgasm as if he was famished for you and his mouth slowly sucked and nipped its way up your body to latch onto your neglected nipples. You whined, just wanting him to be inside you already as you wrapped your legs around him and hung on him like a koala, pressing your body to his as you suspended yourself in the air under his crouched position.

He chuckled and pressed you into the mattress again, his warm chest and pelvis pressing against you. You rutted into him until you couldn’t take it anymore and pushed him over until his back was pressed up against the headboard and straddled him once more. “Please fuck me, Minho. I need you to fill me up…” You whispered against his lips as one of your hands tangled in his hair and the other was frantically stroking his dick. To make your point, You knelt down to hover over his cock and let a string of saliva drip from your mouth down onto his throbbing head right before taking him in your mouth.

His thighs tensed under your palms and you closed your eyes in bliss as you listened to the beautiful sounds he was making because of your efforts. You swallowed down more of him and you felt a shaky hand push you back by your shoulder. “Shit, you’re too good at that…” He heaved and roughly grabbed your hips to bring you flush to him, slightly lifting you so he could impale you on his cock.

You clung onto him as you sunk down and squinted your watery eyes to get used to that familiar, delicious stretch. The breath was stolen from you and you felt like you could cum without even moving, your emotional mindset making it all the more intense.

It wasn’t long before you needed more and you gradually started bouncing on him, burying your face in his neck and latching onto his neck with your mouth to muffle your cries of pleasure. He guided your hips with his strong hands and you could tell he was holding himself back from just bending you over and annihilating your pussy into the mattress, but all you felt were his sweet kisses across your neck and shoulder and whispered words of how much he loves you and how beautiful you were.

You weren’t sure how long you two were going at it, lost in the sensation that was just purely Lee Minho, until you ground into him harder and cupped his cheeks with your hands. You tried portraying every ounce of your love for him with that one kiss and slowly picked up your hips, only to drop down on his cock with dizzying speed and force. His mouth went slack against yours and you watched as his eyebrows turned inwards in bliss.

You continued the action a few more times, fusing your body to his, until he took matters into his own hands. Before you knew it, you were on your back with the man thrusting into you with a force that made you scream out his name. 

His mouth, hands, and tongue were all over you and your nails dug into his back with the ever-increasing intensity of his thrusts. “M-Minho! ‘M’so close…” You whimpered and he growled into your shoulder.

“Cum on me, kitten. Soak me.”

A few more thrusts and you were done for. You cried out your ecstasy and he followed soon after, riding you through your orgasms.

He was still sheathed inside you when he plopped down on your body to catch his breath. You carded your fingers through his sweat-damp hair from where his face was pressed against your chest and you watched as his breaths gradually slowed.

When he was properly relaxed again, his cock soft inside you, he brought his face up to yours to litter kisses all over your skin, pulling a giggle from you. His smile was blinding when he pulled back to look down at you and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“So, does this mean I can properly call you my girlfriend now? Or do you fall in love with all of your FWBs?” You smacked his arm and he giggled as he laced his fingers in yours with the hand you had just used to abuse him.

You rolled your eyes at him. “Ah, yes. You mean all of the many friends I fuck?” He smirked in response and you just sighed and relaxed into his touch. “No, there’s only room for one annoying asshole in my heart. So I suppose I can accept your proposition…” His smile was both equally parts amused and bashful as he squeezed his arms around you and buried his face in your neck to take in a deep breath of your scent.

“It’s about goddamn time…” He said after another long squeeze and you couldn’t control your sudden urge to smack his cute ass. You squealed out a giggle when he startled and quickly pinned your hands above your head. His eyes were mischievous right before he bent down to bite you on your shoulder, causing you to moan and his cock to jump inside you. His mouth drifted up your neck until he was whispering in your ear. “I hope that was worth it, because now you’re never getting out of this bed tonight.”

And he wasn’t bluffing if the awkward (but not unwelcome) limp in your step the next day had anything to say about it.

________________________________________

“You’re shitting us. You two?” Hyunjin looked positively floored the next day you and Minho had the group all together and told them the two of you were dating.

“How the fuck did this happen? I thought you hated Minho!” Changbin, equal disbelief in his tone. Minho scowled at him and Changbin held up his hands in a hasty defense.

You had vehemently apologized to Jisung the next time you saw him and told him you’d never forgive yourself for what happened. He just laughed it off and said he was happy for you, but you couldn’t help but notice a touch of sadness in his smile while the rest of the group freaked out. However, Chris seemed a bit sheepish himself as well.

You tried to focus on the smiling face of Felix instead. “Don’t get me wrong, he still properly annoys the everliving fuck out of me, but I guess he passes for a tolerable enough boyfriend.” You smiled teasingly at him and he scoffed at you with a suppressed smile.

“So what does the big bro think about this?”

You smiled wide and confident at Chris’ inquiry and casually answered. “We’re avoiding telling him like the plague.” 

Minho spoke up at this. “So I swear, if any of you motherfuckers breathe a word before we say so, you will end up having a very short lifespan.” The group chuckled nervously and you whacked his shoulder while he had the audacity to act all innocent like he hadn’t said anything wrong.

“Why do you gotta be such a pain in the ass, Min?” You casually repremanded him with little to no bite behind the question, instead chuckling at him.

“Well I guess their dynamic hasn’t changed at least.” Hyunjin scoffed.

Suddenly, the group’s attention drifted to something behind where you and Minho were standing and you turned around to see Tiffany strutting straight up to Minho, acting as if you, or any of the rest of the guys for that matter, didn’t exist. “Hey, Minho! I was wondering if you want to grab lunch with me? I have a coupon for that sandwich place down the road and I thought I could use the company.” She ran her hand down his arm and circled his fingers around his wrist.

What a brazen bitch.

He pulled his hand from her grasp and immediately wrapped his arm around your waist with an annoyed expression directed at her. “Uh, no thanks. I was gonna go get lunch with the guys and my new girlfriend, so I think I’ll pass.” You heard Changbin and Hyunjin snickering behind you and you couldn’t contain your smug smile as you watched the rage morph on her face when she eyed where you and Minho connected.

She scoffed and looked at you like you were a pathetic worm, making you slightly curl in on yourself. The way she could make people feel like trash was one of her best capabilities. “Are you kidding me?! You were really so fucking hungry for dick that you felt the need to prove something to me by taking him? That’s just sad, sweetheart.”

Minho took a step toward her, not actually planning on doing anything violent, only to intimidate her just enough to have the enirety of campus feel the need to give him a wide berth. You held him back anyway and she just scoffed at him.

She slightly leaned around to look at you past his towering form and sneered at you. “Fine, have it your way. I already got to fuck your last boy toy anyway, I don’t need this one too.” Your heart dropped and she gave a wicked smile before turning and, right as she started leaving, you heard a voice speak up from the group of boys behind you.

“Oh just go choke on another cock why don’t you, deep-dished bitch.” She whipped her head around with fury in her eyes before hastily stomping away. You and Minho looked back incredulously at Jisung and he just shrugged. You don’t think you had ever heard anything so malicious from his mouth and a wide smile broke out on your face before hugging him. He gave you a warm hug back and smoothed his hand up and down your spine. “No one talks to my soulmate’s girl that way.”

You smiled up at him and squeezed him once more before returning to Minho, wrapping yourself around him and trying to ignore the fact that your best friend had fucked your ex without you knowing. However, knowing how much the men around you cared about you, you couldn’t bring yourself to give a flying fuck.

Minho leaned over to quickly press a kiss to your head and squeeze you. “Do you…” You vehemently cut him off with a kiss pressed to his lips as you shook your head. He smiled down at you and then began guiding you. “C’mon, Changbin’s gonna pass out if we don’t feed him soon.”

“Yah!” Changbin yelled and Minho cackled right before his phone went off in his pocket.

To both of your surprises, it was your older brother and as soon as Minho answered, you were sure the whole campus could hear the screaming from his end of the receiver. “WHAT THE FUCK MINHO?! MY SISTER?! YOU’RE FUCKING MY BABY SISTER?! YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD, DUDE!”

The two of you looked at each other in terror and you looked over to see Tiffany with her phone out and an evil grin on her face moments before strutting away. That bitch used my brother against me?!?! You turned back to the rest of the guys that had their eyes fixed on the two of you and their horrified looks confirmed your suspicions that they had, in fact, heard your brother’s bellowing.

Well shit.

________________________________________

If you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading! Please like, follow, and share! Thanks baby stays! 😘

2chopsticks2eyes - Masterlist

ALSO: For those who I think would appreciate this: @lyramundana @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna  @channieandhisgoonsquad @guiltycoco-recs @cb97percent @charmercharm3r @sweetracha 

[silverzoomies]

135 for Peter- I can’t- it genuinely sounds like something he would say🗣️

Peter Maximoff/Reader drabble: ⚡"I'll be honest: I get off on the thought of you."⚡ warnings: use of "truth serum," dirty confessions. also, i don't usually post unedited writing. apologies if this isn't up to par with my usual, polished work !!

Spending a venturous night sneaking around with your bestie, you followed behind him on your toes. Stealthily moving through the X-Men’s base of operations, you found yourself snooping in Beast’s lab. Your teammates all slept upstairs in the mansion. Which gave your mischievous pal all the time in the world to unleash hell. Peter had a bad case of sticky hands that night. He smuggled a few gadgets from Hank’s lab tables.

While he gave into his klepto compulsions, you busied yourself with a mini-fridge labeled "Samples. DO NOT TOUCH!"

You were a good little nugget. You knew you shouldn’t be so nosy. But part of you wanted to take the risk, just to impress your trouble-maker friend. Giggling quietly, you pulled the fridge open.

“Duuuude! Check this shit out!” You whispered.

Your curious eyes scanned the army of glass vials lined up neatly inside. Cool air fanned your face as you leaned in. Squinting, you read off the labels one by one, mumbling their names under your breath. Peter appeared by your side in a speedy blur. He peered over your shoulder. On impulse, he hastily snagged a vial or two without a second thought.

“Oh, dude, sick! Are these his nerd potions?” Peter snickered.

“I think so! Metamor-...Metamorphose Elixir? What the…” You tried to keep your laughs at a low volume, “Angel’s Essence. X-Celeration. Honeysuckle…” You scoffed as you picked through the fridge, “I don’t even know what half of these mean. What’d you get?” 

Absentmindedly, Peter paced the room. He moved backwards with effortless grace, reading the vials in his hands. The stolen gadgets stuffed in his jacket pockets made sharp noises as they rustled together.

“Uhhhh…Super Sonic Boom…pppffbbbttt…what even is that?? I told you, Hanky boy’s, like, nerd supreme.” Peter rolled his eyes affectionately, before reading off the next one, “And I got…OHHHHHOHOHO!” He raised his voice a little too much, and you quickly shushed him, “Sorry! Sorry! Just…check it out! Truth Serum!”

You skittered up to Peter, snatching the vial from his hand, “You really think it works??”

Peter wiggled his silver brows. His lips stretched in a cat-like grin. Totally aloof and super chill.

“Only one way to find out, ah?”

You popped the cork off the vial, giving the sample a sniff test. Neon liquid bubbled inside. It reeked strongly of pickle juice. The scent made you reluctant to try it first. But after an impromptu game of rock, paper, scissors - of which you ultimately lost - you braced yourself and took the tiniest swig.

“C’mon! That was nothing! Don’t be chicken shit!” Peter teased, tossing the other vial in his hand into the air, catching it before it fell to the floor.

You smacked your lips and hollowed your cheeks, feeling your eyes overflow with tears; all in immediate reaction to the serum’s sour flavor. Several seconds became a minute, as you stood there in silence. Over eager and irritable, Peter huffed. He rapidly tapped his foot. Before breaking the silence with a restless exclamation of-

“Well!? Did it work ‘er not?!”

You chuckled, gesturing with the vial.

“I hate it when you do that.”

Peter’s expression fell. He slumped his broad shoulders, catching the other vial just in time after tossing it again.

“Huh? When I do what?” He asked, giving you a defeated, puppy dog look.

“That. When you act so impatient? I can’t tell if it's super annoying, or ridiculously cute.” You spoke without filter, shifting your bashful gaze, “And…augh. Please stop looking at me like that. You really are so freaking cute it’s unbearable.”

“Wait...are you...” Peter’s lips curved upward in a cocky grin.

Covering your mouth with a hand, you felt your cheeks heat up in a flash.

“Did I…what the hell did I just say??”

“You really think I’m that cute, huh?” Peter sheepishly blushed. Pulling his lip between his teeth, he flitted his gaze to the vial in your hand, before meeting your shy eyes again. He threw you a nod of his head, “Lemme see that.”

Peter downed the entire vial in one shot, instantly shuddering as the tart taste oozed down his throat. He smacked his lips, scowling, looking at the vial with a single brow raised.

Not even two seconds passed before he openly admitted-

“I’ll be honest. I kinda get off on the thought of you, like, all the time.” He said on impulse, his dark gaze still fixed on the empty vial.

When he tilted his head up to meet your eyes again, you gaped at him with your peepers blown wide. Peter blushed an even brighter shade of scarlet. Laughing uneasily, he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Uhhhhh…heh…uh…wow…awkward.” Peter whistled, shaking his head, “I guess…safe to say…this shit most definitely works. Way to go, Beastie!”

“Do…” You hesitated, biting your tongue for a microsecond before you found the courage to continue, “Do you really think of me like that? Because…I mean…I'm kind of into you too.” You confessed without meaning to, "Or...no. I'm really into you."

With no filter to hold him back anymore, Peter's lips moved at an alarming speed. He began spouting an onslaught of filthy words. As he did, you felt hot, pulsing wires of tension pull between you both. Drawing each other in closer.

“You say that now. But if you knew how much I beat my meat thinkin’ about your body, you'd never wanna talk to me again. It happens like fifty times a week. I just can't help it, babe!” He shrugged, his face burning hotter and hotter with every loose word, “H'oh, man. I should shut up now. I should really shut up. Before I admit somethin’ else. Like how I can't stop starin’ at your ass when you're not looking.”

“What!?” You burst out laughing, hiding your blushing face with your hands.

He matched your laugh with his own, “Sorry. The pickle juice of truth's got me acting all kinds of loco right now.” Peter bit his lip again, stifling his next words before they slipped out anyway.

“Sometimes you get a feisty attitude with me and it really turns me on.” He added, "Ah...shit."

Basking in the thrill of this back and forth truth game, you parted your lips. Anxiously awaiting your own, inevitable disclosure.

“I've always wondered what your speedy tongue would feel like on my…” You sealed your mouth shut once more, groaning into your hands.

"YOOOO! No way! Seriously? You're twisted, baby. That's hot."

Carelessly discarding the vials, letting glass crash the floor without a moment's pause; Peter grabbed you by your waist and pulled you into him. You both searched each other's eyes frantically.

A devastating degree of mutual attraction had the two of you on edge. Peter waited for you to break the silence with another sexy confession. You did the same. Waiting. Anticipating his next words in hopes he might say something to further turn you on.

“I have a huge boner right now.” He fessed, biting his tongue to suppress his giggles.

You wheezed loud enough to shake the earth, surely waking up the whole mansion.

[miasmaghoul]

Limelight

Rating: E

Pairing: Aether/Dew

Summary: Aether and Dew see the ghovie (gone sexual). Contains handjobs, semi-public play, teasing, hand kink and quintessence fuckery.

(Also contains mentions of Rite Here Rite Now concert footage ONLY - no spoilers!)

"I feel ridiculous," Dew grumbles, tapping the toe of his boot against the dingy theater carpet. The lobby is bustling, filled with people of all ages in Ghost shirts, face paint and costumes. Dew tugs at his jacket, restless.

"Why?" Aether strokes the back of his hand with his thumb. "I thought you were excited to see the finished product?"

Dew mumbles something as they move up in line, eyeballing the concessions menu. Nearby, a pair of young girls giggle as they take a selfie with their creepy little plush Copias in front of the Rite Here Rite Now poster.

"Looks like you aren't the only one, either," Aether chuckles, elbowing Dew gently. The little ghoul rolls his eyes.

"Just...feels weird," Dew shrugs, grabbing a packet of Sour Patch Kids from the display stand. "Seeing it all...y'know." He gestures vaguely with their joined hands and Aether gives him a nod.

"You're gonna be on the big screen, baby boy," he says with a grin, looping an arm around his shoulders, and Dew frowns in a very stern sort of way.

"Get me these," he grumbles, tossing his candy onto the counter as they step up. "And a blue Icee. Large." Aether chuffs as he pulls out his wallet, rattling off things to the scrawny kid behind the till. "And nachos. With extra jalapeños."

Aether gives him a look.

"How much do you think the infirmary pays me, Dew?"

"Ugh, fine," he says with another exaggerated eye roll. "A medium Icee."

Aether pinches the tendon on the inside of his wrist and Dew kicks him in the shin. Aether shakes his head with a sigh, but he can't hide his smitten grin.

They gather up the pile of snacks - large Icee included - and make their way to the theater. It's a decent space, with reclining seats and extra chilly air conditioning. It's only about half full with five minutes til showtime, but Dew doesn't mind a smaller crowd. Their seats are great, in the back with empites on each side and in front, and Dew crosses his fingers that it stays that way. He sets down his things, shrugs off his jacket and lays it over it lap when he sits.

"How are you not cold?" Aether shivers, sitting on his hands. "It's frigid in here."

"You know I run hot," Dew shrugs, reclining his seat and crossing his ankles as he settles in. He grabs his box of nachos and scoops up a glob of impossibly yellow cheese and pickled jalapeño. "Plus, this way I can use it as a blanket if I want to."

Dew pops the chip into his mouth and demonstrates while he munches, crossing his legs and pulling the jacket up to cover his chest. He makes a tah-dah gesture and Aether smiles, leaning over to swipe a little smear of cheese from his bottom lip.

"Whatever works, I guess," he says, licking his thumb clean. He grimaces. "That tastes like spicy, salty plastic."

"I know, isn't it great?"

Dew uncovers himself and settles in again, stretching his legs and covering his lap. He takes a sip of his Icee and grabs the box again, tucking in while the theater lights start to dim. That same wiggly feeling he'd had in the lobby hits again and Dew sighs, fidgeting with the loose edge of a patch on his jacket.

"This really feels weird," he breathes, and Aether reaches over to hold his hand.

"Relax, Dew," he murmurs, lacing their fingers together. "You're gonna be just fine."

The last thing Dew sees before the lights go down is the glint of Aether's golden tooth, and he struggles to swallow the lump in his throat as the screen flickers to life.

The first time he appears, Aether audibly gasps, and Dew can't explain the way it males him feel. He shoves another chip in his mouth and decides not to think about it.

Twenty minutes and three bouts of brainfreeze later, though, his snacks are gone and Dew finds himself with no further distractions. Seeing himself - well, all of them really, but especially himself - up on that screen is doing things to his insides he can't quite explain. There's a certain level of queasiness in play, though who's to say how much of that is from watching himself play in stunning definition and how much is impending heartburn.

He squirms in his seat and tries very hard not to focus on the mistakes he catches. Tiny things he's sure no one else can see or hear - obviously, judging by the people dancing in their seats - but he sure can. He watches his fingers fly over the frets and wishes he had arched his back a little bit more in that shot. Stupid things he shouldn't give a shit about, and yet can't help but focus on. This is exactly what he was worried about when Aether suggested this outing.

Aether, on the other hand, seems to be struggling for other reasons entirely.

Dew can hear how heavy his breathing has gotten, can feel where his palm has gotten sweaty where their hands are joined. Not from the warmth of connection, but a clamminess that speaks of stress. Dew keeps looking at him from the corner of his eye, every time he hears a huff of breath or a sigh he's sure Aether thinks he's hiding, but the other ghoul's eyes remain locked on the screen. Dew's sure that if he were to lay his head on Aether's chest his heart would be racing. After one particularly harsh sigh Dew finally gives in. He focuses and reaches down the invisible link between their minds, nudging himself up against Aether's consciousness.

You okay, big guy?

Dew squeezes his hand and Aether visibly sags, shoulders slumping and legs falling apart in the reclined seat. Even in the dark, Dew can make out the bulge that movement reveals.

Oh, he slips into Aether's mind, not entirely on purpose, and the other ghoul lets out a quiet groan.

Look at you up there, Dew. Aether's reply carries rich warmth, the kind that soothes the nerves. The tone is worshipful, like Aether's borne witness to something spectacular. Fuck, just look at you.

The screen cuts to a close up of him as if on cue, fingers effortlessly gliding over his strings, and Dew's attention shifts to their joined hands. Aether's stroking his thumb over the most prominent vein on the back of his strumming hand, tracing it with effortless precision. A motion he's done a thousand times over, but one that feels so different with the starved way he's watching the screen.

He doesn't fight it when Aether pulls his hand into his lap, and his eyelids flutter when he feels just how hard Aether's gotten in his jeans. His own cock gives an interested twitch as he rubs at that sizable bulge, feeling it pulse against his palm. He doesn't say a word as he shrugs off Aether's grip, but he does roll his eyes when Aether whines into his head.

Two seconds, he says, scooting as close to Aether as he can in his seat. He pulls his jacket from his lap and lays it over Aether's instead, sneaking that clever hand back under to fondle him again. There, that's better.

Aether's mouth drops open when Dew gives him a squeeze, gripping his armrests so hard they creak. His eyes never leave the screen, though. Not even when Dew's elegant fingers start fiddling with his zipper. Not tugging it down, not yet, just dragging a nail over the teeth and loving the way it makes Aether flinch.

You're really worked up, aren't you?

He can't hide the twinge of surprise the thought carries, a curious inflection pushed into Aether's clearly distracted mind. He knows Aether loves to watch him play - always the one to tag along with him for midnight practice sessions and sunrise acoustic sets whenever sleep eludes him. And every time, no matter how many years pass, Dew would find Aether staring at his hands. Fixated on the control Dew prides himself on, focused on the way his skilled fingers danced over the neck and strummed out the most complex riffs with what looked like no effort at all. Aether would always rub his hands afterwards, massaging in just a hint of quintessence to help relieve hours of soreness.

Dew would reciprocate with a little rubbing of his own, of course. He's nothing if not a gentleman.

Still, though, seeing Aether fall apart so very rapidly over the sight of him on that screen comes as a surprise. He isn't one to show his cards like this, usually able to hold a straight face through damn near anything. Dew knows, he's seen it - Aether remains the only one unfazed by Aeon's puppy eyes, no matter how much the kid tries. That's proof enough of his stoicism.

And yet.

It's different. The words float into his mind, wobbly and unsure. Like Aether's really struggling to form coherent thoughts. It's...it's so much different like this.

They're the last words Aether manages before Dew feels the connection between their minds falter. He's pretty sure that's his own fault, given the way he's started massaging Aether through his ever tightening jeans, but it makes Dew chuckle under his breath. He refocuses on that link as he leans closer, until he can rest his head on Aether's bicep.

I'll take your word for it. Aether throbs against his palm and Dew groans low in his throat. Fuck, you're really hard aren't you?

"Shit," the other ghoul hisses, harsh, and a girl two rows down turns to glare at them. Aether shrinks a bit in his seat, and Dew is absolutely delighted.

None of that, he scolds, popping the button under his fingers. If you can't keep quiet, I'm not gonna be able to help you. Don't you want me to help you?

Dew tugs the zipper down and sees Aether bite his lip hard enough to draw blood when he reaches inside. It's damn near impossible to keep in his own pleasured groan when he finally gets a hand on Aether, finding him stone hard and hot to the touch. He pulls it out, hidden by the jacket, and Aether's head thuds against the back of his seat.

That's what I thought, Dew snickers, and that's all the warning Aether gets before that warm, bony hand starts to stroke.

Dew works him slow, with tight, twisting pulls that make Aether's thighs tremble in seconds. He nuzzles further into Aether's arm while the movie plays on, soaking in his rich cologne and the subtle scent of arousal. There's no urgency in the way he touches Aether, pausing every few downstrokes to get a hand on his balls too. To grope them, weigh them in his palm and really make Aether struggle to keep his eyes open. He manages, but Dew is certain that it's only because of the action on screen. He thumbs over the head and the other ghoul grunts out a curse in ghoulish, a guttural sound that sends a frission of something dark down Dew's spine.

He's too focused on the fine tremors shaking Aether's belly to notice the other ghoul's arm moving, and Dew jolts when a large hand lands heavy on the back of his neck, squeezing. His cock jumps where it sits already chubby and dribbling against his thigh, filling out that much more. He lets a wanton, breathy moan drift into Aether's mind and grins to himself when that hand gets even tighter.

His grin vanishes a second later, when Dew feels a familiar crackle against his skin. He gulps.

U-uh, Aeth -

A sudden rush of quintessence floods his system, pouring into his veins and curling around every last nerve ending. It's like an electric shock of pure pleasure, one that sets his skin on fire and makes his eyes cross, and as his dick pulses hard enough to hurt Dew has no hope of holding in his choked moan.

Thankfully Aether's arm catches most of it, but Dew can't even be bothered to see if anyone else noticed. His hand has gone still on Aether's throbbing cock, pre streaming over his fingers, and he sucks air through his teeth as an aftershock hits. He shudders, pulling back just enough to give his head a useless shake. Anything to clear some of the haze. He looks up at Aether again, and this time he finds the other ghoul staring right at him.

Finish what you started.

It slithers into his head, rough and rasping. Aether's thumb caresses the side of his neck, just shy of his thrumming pulse, and another spark of power shoots through him - one that makes his balls draw up. Dew groans deep in his chest and pushes his face into Aether's arm once more.

That's cheating, he complains, nothing but token protest. Aether's eyes shine even in the dark, sparkling lavender that holds such promise.

Do it and I promise I'll lick you out tonight, Aether rumbles, rocking up into that tight fist, and as the words sink into the folds of his brain Dew whimpers.

He really hopes Aether doesn't hear it.

He doesn't respond, and Aether's attention returns to the screen. His hand still sits on the back of Dew's neck though, holding firm, and Dew wastes no time in picking up where he left off. Aether's stomach visibly clenches when he pauses to rub at the frenulum, and the pulse of want that pounds through him when Aether's forced to bite his knuckles makes Dew's head spin.

He's long since lost track of the movie, occupied entirely with making sure Aether gets everything he needs out of his favorite pair of hands. He doesn't mind - he'll get the highlights later, once he can think with something besides his dick. For now, he dedicates himself to the task at (well, in, really) hand. It only takes a few more practiced twirls of the wrist for Aether's thighs to starts quivering again, and Dew knows he's about to get exactly what he wanted.

Aether curses again, a barely audible grunt, and as his own hands fill the screen once more Dew feels him go even harder.

That's it, he encourages, focusing on the head until Aether's legs go rigid. Let me have it, Aeth, give it all to me.

Aether suddenly turns, burying his face in Dew's hair to muffle his pained groan. Dew relishes every kick of his fat cock as it shoots all over the inside of his jacket, the last of the heavy spurts drooling down his shaft and coating Dew's fingers. The little ghoul works him through it, until he's left spent, sticky and breathless.

"Fuck, Dew," he whispers, barely audible over the pounding music.

Dew hums, pulling back his messy hand and licking it clean while Aether catches his breath. He's still very aware of the hand gripping his neck. It's something of a threat, truth be told - one more pulse of quintessence and he'll be toast. Aether may he able to cum quietly, but Dew? Dew can't keep his mouth shut when it comes to the magickal stuff and they both know it.

Later, if you want, he replies, sneaking his not entirely clean hand between his own legs. Aether's fixated on the screen again already, so he risks giving himself a grope. Rubs at his aching cock through too-tight denim just enough to take some of the edge off. He shivers as a blurt of pre squirts out onto his thigh, and has to stop himself from pushing any further.

He tucks his legs under him and leans into Aether's arm again. The hand on the back of his neck tightens, and for one horrifying moment Dew thinks Aether’s about to make him embarrass himself. Instead, though, Aether moves. Wraps that strong arm around his shoulders and holds him close, and in a lull between songs he leans down to plant a kiss on Dew's temple.

"Told you this would be fun," he murmurs, nosing at the place one of his horns should be. Dew can't help his pleased hum as he leans into it.

"Hate it when you're right," he mumbles, and Aether laughs louder than he probably should. The girl two rows down turns to shush him again and Aether offers her a sheepish wave of apology. They settle in together, leaning against one another while the movie plays on.

If they show you doing your Mummy Dust thing I'm gonna cum again, Aether sends down their link, and Dew doesn't have a name for the noise he makes.

[fanaticsnail]

Where's the pain, Reck?

Hey Doc Masterlist

Word Count: 700+

Synopsis: The navy-haired gunslinger was rushed into your clinic with major abdominal pain. You prepare for surgery.

Themes: Kid Pirates x gn!reader, platonic series, Reck, Jaguar, Quincy, Heat. Hints to surgery, friendship, body-functions, Heat has a distinct nose for articulation. You are 'Doc', the doctor of the Kid Pirates.

Notes: As soon as I saw @a-killer-obsession's ask in my inbox, I couldn't resist. I can't. Your poor friend 😭.

“Hey, Doc-!” the booming voice of a partially panicked Jaguar called out to you, “Clear your schedule for emergency surgery!”

Hastily knocked from your own little world by the intrusion to your office, you flung your magazine down and sprinted to your sink. Thoroughly rinsing and drying your hands, interlacing your fingers to stretch them for mobility, you quickly smacked on your medical latex over your digits.

While you enacted this small ritual, Jaguar placed Reck onto the medical cot with Quincy and Heat by his side. The navy-haired man was screaming, clutching his belly and face contorted in absolute agony.

“S’okay, Reck. We're seein’ Doc now. Get you sorted in a second,” Jaguar soothed his crewmate, gently caressing his forehead in a bid to ease his pain. You looked to Quincy and Heat, waiting for an explanation.

You looked to where Reck was clutching, empathetically clenching your teeth and sucking in a hiss through your tightly bound lips.

“Where's the pain, Reck?” you queried, elbowing Heat and Quincy out of the way gently to reach your patient. Reck could only let out a soft sob accompanied with a guttural shriek while convulsing on the medical cot.

“Jaguar, has Reck had any history of appendicitis in his family?”

“How the fuck would I know?” he shot back at you, his brow furrowed in puzzlement, “Half of the crew are war orphans, and the other half are bastards who only know one parent.”

“Fuck,” you shook your head, gently moving Reck's hand from his abdomen and seeking out the bulbous and inflamed organ you suspected was the reason for his harm. “Reck, work with me, hon. Just sit tight and we'll get to the source of-.”

With a final shriek, the pressure alleviated from his guts with a lengthy, deep, warbling ‘thrrrrrrrrrhp.’

Flatulence was the only sound to echo within your office, the room beginning to fill with the scent of an unholy concoction of a smell both wet and dry. The reverberations were enough to shake the medical cot, prompting Quincy, Jaguar, Heat, and yourself to recoil and choke back on your gags.

There was nothing truly comparable to the backwater boglands’ stench that fled from the rear of Reck, who’s face both expressed relief and horror to the events transpiring before an audience.

After what seemed like an eternity, Reck sheepishly clenched his jaw and cringed out a smile while tapping his stomach with his open palm.

“No need for surgery,” he laughed dryly, and without humor, “I feel much better.”

Glaring up at him, your expression darkened as you gestured for the door of your office to wordlessly relay your desires for him and the entourage that followed to leave. Reck jumped from the bay, clutching Jaguar by the elbow and ushering him along. Quincy followed not far behind, elbowing him in the ribs while he laughed at her playfulness.

Heat remained by your side, speechless with his jaw slack and nose curled back in disgust.

“Heat?” you called to the blue-haired man stunned beside you.

“I-... I can-...” he choked, bile rising in his flame propelling throat. “...I can fucking taste what he ate.”

“Heat,” you whined, reaching for the door to your bay and proceeding to open and close the door, in a bid to siphon the poor smell out from the bay and replace it with fresh air.

“It's like,” Heat rose his hands in the air in front of his chest, “It's fucking sour? Like he's been eating nothing but pickles and eggs for a week. That, mixed with the dried meat kept in barrels below deck-... Like, I know the smell.”

“Please,” you begged him, attempting to flee the thoughts of food from your mind to no avail.

“Like, you know when oats go rancid?” he continued, “Using salt-water to cook them in instead of milk, and using the milk you should've used with the oats, left out for a few days in the sun with a smoked ham hock in the same container-.”

“-Heat, stop. Please, you're gonna put me off,” you cry, your pleas turning to laughter the longer he used his nose to associate the flatulence, rolling over his palate and discussing the stench akin to a sommelier sampling a fine wine.

“You're not put off by that fucking smell already?” he chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning his hips back onto the medical bay, “You've got a stronger stomach than I do, Doc.”

"And you've got a great discernment for scents, Heat," you compliment him, gesturing to your door, "Now, please leave? That's enough excitement for the day."

"You got it, Doc."

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @nerium-lil @sinning-23 @a-killer-obsession

I just didn't want to give away the butt of the joke (bad pun, bad pun, bad pun). I can't even. Thank you for this beautiful idea, and I really feel their pain, and I hope I did your ask justice.

[najia-cooks]

Wood sorrel soup with green peppercorn and mint

The wood sorrels—sometimes called sourgrasses—are a group of extremely widely distributed edible weeds in the genus Oxalis. As their name suggests, wood sorrels have a distinctly tart flavor due to the presence of oxalic acid. The seed pods of the wood sorrels are crisp and quite sour, and are therefore sometimes called fairy pickles. Wood sorrel is a commonly foraged green which grows well in disturbed areas, woodland, lawns, and gardens; it may be used as a pot herb or a salad green, or brewed into tea.

This recipe is for a blended soup similar to schav (Yiddish): an eastern European soup made with common sorrel (Rumex acetosa), vegetables, and smetana (sour cream)—and to potage crème d'oseille: a French soup made with sorrel or other sour, foraged greens; broth; eggs; and cream. In my version of this soup, the bright, lemony sourness of wood sorrel is deepened with garlic, tempered with a non-dairy milk, and complemented by the fresh, earthy, citrusy notes of green peppercorn. A garnish of chiffonaded mint or green onion adds some herbacious sharpness that plays well against the fresh wood sorrel.

Recipe under the cut!

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Ingredients:

50g (1 cup packed) yellow wood sorrel

1 small sweet onion

3 cloves garlic, crushed

Margarine, to fry

Salt to taste

1 tsp ground green peppercorns

2 cups vegetable stock

1/3 to 1/2 cup non-dairy milk, to taste

1 Tbsp flour

Mint or green onion, to garnish

Besides common yellow wood sorrel (Oxalis stricta), procumbent yellow sorrel (O. corniculata), or slender yellow wood sorrel (O. dillenii), will also work.

All three species have leaves which are alternate (one leaf per node), trifoliate (three leaflets per leaf), and petiolate (attached to the stem by a leafstalk, rather than directly); have heart-shaped leaflets; and have yellow, five-petalled flowers. Leaflets open in the sun and close (folding downwards) at night.

O. stricta plants grow upright when very young, but are afterwards recumbent; each plant has only one root, so the stems are not truly creeping (sending down new roots at the nodes). Stems may have small hairs spreading away from the center. Flowers appear in branched clusters, usually from 5 to 7 per inflorescence. Pedicels (seed pods) are erect.

O. stricta roots once; if young and light, it is upright. If mature and heavy enough, it will lie recumbent along the rest of its length without rooting again.

O. corniculata plants are prostrate, spreading via overground stolons which root into the ground again at the nodes. Pedicels are deflexed (hanging down) or horizontal.

O. corniculata spreads along the ground; if you try to pull up a mature plant, you will note it is rooted at more than one point (if soil is available).

O. dillenii is sometimes considered a type of O. stricta. Plants are erect and may reach over a foot in height. Flowers usually appear in 2s, but there may be as many as 6 per infloresence. Stems have appressed (lying flat against the stem surface) hairs. Pedicels are reflexed (bent).

O. dillenii, upright with hairy stems and seed pods whose peduncles have a sharp bend in them, like an elbow. Leaves sometimes slightly reddish.

Instructions:

Wash wood sorrel in a bowl of water, then draw the plants out to allow dirt to sink to the bottom. Include leaves, stems, seed pods, and flowers.

In a large soup pot, melt margarine on medium-high. Fry onion, garlic, a pinch of salt, and half the green pepper until the onion is golden brown.

Add sorrel and heat until thoroughly wilted.

Add stock and simmer 10 minutes.

Whisk flour into 1/3 cup non-dairy milk; add the mixture to the pot and whisk. Taste and add another splash of milk if the soup remains too sour.

Add remaining green pepper and salt to taste. Simmer another 3 minutes or so.

Garnish. Serve hot or cold.

[vaguelyvoid]

Sweet Like Candy | kth

Pairing: Taehyung x fem reader

Genre: smut, established relationship, non-idol au

Rated: 18+

Summary: Taehyung is so excited to try miracle berries after he orders them because they supposedly make everything taste sweet, so he decides to test that theory on you as well.

Warnings: explicit language, descriptive sex, dom Tae/sub reader, food playish, oral fixation, oral sex (m&f receiving) , unprotected sex (DONT), praise, hella dirty talk, edging, cum eating

Word Count: ~3K

The door to your apartment swings open and Taehyung comes running inside.

“They came! They came!” He squeals and you look over at him. He’s holding a small package in his hand and is smiling from ear to ear. You don’t know what this could be, but he looks so cute all excited like this.

“What came?” You ask and start walking toward him where he’s grabbing the kitchen scissors to cut the package open.

“I ordered miracle berries from Amazon, and we have to try them right now!” His fluffy black hair falls into his eyes while he’s struggling to open the box from his franticness. Ugh he’s so adorable.

“Whoa, slow down! What are miracle berries?” The name sounds kinda cliché to you, but he seems to be really excited about them. He manages to get the box open, and he pulls out a small jar with about 15 dried berries inside.

“They’re these berries that supposedly when you eat them, everything for the next 30ish minutes taste sweet, no matter what it is! Could be lemons, sour candy, pickles even- and there’s no sourness!”

How does that even work? It can’t be true, right?

“It’s not drugs... is it?” You ask. Taehyung laughs at you and shakes his head.

“Perfectly legal.” He says with a smile on his face.

“I even ordered a bunch of food I wanted to try with it! This is gonna be so cool!” You giggle at his excitement. Seriously, this grown adult man is acting like a little kid in a candy store and you could not stop your heart from swelling at his cuteness.

He starts pulling stuff out of the refrigerator including lemons, cream cheese...? and apple cider vinegar.

“Vinegar?” You exclaim in disgust.

“It’ll taste like juice or something, I promise.” He hurriedly rushes into the pantry to grab some sour patch kids and sour skittles.

“Ok! I got everything we need, but we gotta try these.” You giggle again at his franticness for these berries. There’s no way it’s gonna work but you just want to entertain his excitement, so you agree.

He instructs you to eat the berry, but to make sure you coat your whole mouth with the fruit. It kinda tastes like a dried cranberry, a little bitter but he insists that ‘it’s so good’ which makes you laugh.

“Do we need to wait to let it kick in or something?” You question. He just chuckles and looks you in the eyes,

“I said it wasn’t drugs, Y/n. Let’s try the lemon first.” He cuts the lemon in half and gives one half to you. Holding the lemon close to your face, you can smell the sourness of it and your mouth waters at the thought of eating it.

“Okay on the count of three, One, two, three!” He says and you both suck at the lemon. Your face cringes in anticipation, but all you taste when the juice hits your tongue is sugary sweet lemon juice. You look at Taehyung and both of your eyes widen.

“No wayyy! It’s so sweet!” He shouts and you gawk at him.

“It tastes like lemonade, oh my god!” You are even more shocked than him but both of you continue to suck on the juice of the lemon, the taste is addicting.

“Ok we gotta do the cream cheese next.” He says, and you give him a questioning look.

“What is it gonna do to cream cheese?” You ask and he prepares spoonful’s for the both of you.

“Just try.” He says and you bring the spoon to your mouth. Oh my god. It tastes just like cheesecake.

“This is so trippy!” You exclaim and he hits the countertop with his hand in laughter.

“I told you! Here, try a sour patch.” He grabs a blue one, your favorite flavor, and feeds it to you. It tastes just like a gummy coated in sugar now, no sourness at all. You can’t control a little moan that comes out of your mouth, and he smirks down at you.

“Taste good?” He asks and you nod at him, while he puts a yellow one in his mouth.

He bites his lip, and he looks at you up and down with just his eyes, “Hm I wonder if it really makes everything taste sweet.” Knowing exactly what he means, your heart skips a beat, and a breath gets caught in your throat from his hungry stare.

He starts to walk toward you and grabs another sour patch kid, placing it in his mouth halfway. You’re caged in between him and the kitchen island and he leans down toward your lips. Following his lead, you get on your tiptoes to meet his lips and slowly bite the other half of the candy from his mouth.

Once the candy is in your mouth, Taehyung connects your lips in an open mouth kiss. The taste of your mouths and the sweetness of the candy in between your lips is overwhelming. His kisses take your breath away and when he pulls away you are gasping. He grazes a hand down your torso and slips it underneath your shirt to touch the skin of your side. Both of you swallow the piece of candy in your mouth and goosebumps appear on your skin from his touch and stare.

“If your mouth tastes that good, I can’t imagine what your pussy is gonna taste like.” He mutters and you whimper. He presses you harder into the counter and you can feel the outline of his cock against your stomach, not fully hard yet but it makes your heart skip.

Your hands instinctively grab at his shirt collar when he kisses you and he is frantic with his kisses. Swallowing up your little pants and moans that escape your mouth. His mouth is sweet despite the candy being eaten. Is this what miracle berries make his mouth taste like? It’s heaven.

Taehyung is usually softer with his kisses but right now he’s kissing you with so much passion and love. His tongue explores your mouth, and you suckle on the tip of his sweet tongue. His grip around your torso moves down to your ass, which he squeezes before lifting you onto the kitchen island counter.

“Lean back for me, baby.” He says and you giggle as you lay back onto the counter, elbows holding you up to see him fumbling with your jean zipper. He looks a little too eager.

Once he manages to take your jeans off, he starts kissing your stomach, pushing your shirt up to palm your breasts. His fluffy hair tickling the top of your stomach as he trails his kisses downwards under your belly button. The feeling of his kisses and hands on you, combined with his eagerness and pretty face is enough to make your stomach flutter; feeling yourself getting turned on.

“Lemme see my beautiful girl.” He purrs and you open your legs up for him after he takes your panties off. You used to be embarrassed. Not really of your body but having a man this close to your open legs is a little scary. But Taehyung makes you feel no shame because you can see him staring hungrily at your wet folds. His eyes turn a shade darker when he uses his index and middle finger to collect your wetness on his fingers, brushing your clit in the process.

You let out a little squeak and he licks his lips before enveloping his fingers into his mouth. For some reason this seems more erotic than just going down on you and this visual makes your stomach flip. Taehyung’s eyes widen and he looks up at you.

“Y/n you always taste good, but this is insane. I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.” You giggle at him, but you are immediately shut up when he places his face where you want him the most. His skilled tongue parts your folds and collects the wetness around your entrance before circling around your clit.

You exhale in a high-pitched moan and your legs try to close around his head, but he is using his strong hands to push them apart. Taehyung is always eager to taste you, but you can definitely tell this berry is enhancing it.

The scene is so dirty; you with your legs open for him on the kitchen countertop, and his face desperately eating out your cunt, the slurping noises getting a little too loud and all you can do is run your hands through his messy hair to keep him where you need him.

“Oh, just like that!” You plead with him when he starts sucking on your small bud, the warm feeling growing in your stomach. He chuckles into your heat, and you whine when his mouth detaches from your core.

“You taste like candy, Y/n. Think you can get a little wetter for me baby?” You nod frantically with your lower lip in between your teeth.

He fully stands up since he was leaning down over you and takes his shirt off. You lean up to touch his toned chest. His skin is tanned to perfection and warm underneath your cold hands. He grabs the hem of the bottom of your shirt to pull it over your head and you let him. He quickly unclasps your bra, and your breasts spill out.

Taehyung attaches his lips to your neck and his hands to your breasts, palming them and rolling your nipples in between his fingers. You let your head drop back and another moan escapes your mouth. You haven’t even done anything to help him out yet but he’s taking his time to worship your body. His lips trail up your neck and nibble on your earlobe.

“You’re so fucking sexy Y/n.. letting me do whatever I want with you.” You hum in agreement and feel up his back muscles while he’s over you.

“I trust you, Tae.” He groans at your words and moves downward to suck at your nipple. The teasing is too much. He’s brought you to the brink of orgasm and now he’s flicking his tongue around your left nipple, and you almost feel like you could cum just from this.

“Tae, please I wanna cum.” You beg and he comes face to face with you.

“Are you wetter for me, huh?” Growing impatient, you just take his hand in yours and put it between your legs for him to feel.

He smugly chuckles again, “Good fucking girl.” And he’s down back in between your legs again to taste your sweetness. This time he dips his tongue into your entrance to collect more of your essence into his mouth, moaning at the taste of you again.

“Wanna make this pussy cum.” He says into your heat and wraps his puffy lips around your clit again.

You can’t stop your body from grinding into his face and you muster out a “Fuck, I’m cumming.” and he continues to flick his tongue around your bundle of nerves, your legs spasming around his head.

You’re dizzy from your orgasm and you’re back to reality once you hear the clinking of his belt buckle becoming undone.

“I need to fuck you Y/n, need to feel this sweet pussy cum around me.” You are a bit dazed from your orgasm, but you will never turn down Taehyung’s cock inside you. You want to make him feel good too.

Once his cock is out, it slaps against his stomach and your mouth naturally waters at the sight.

“You want this right?” Taehyung asks you and your heart melts at his words, always making sure to get your consent with anything he does with you, despite your body being splayed across the counter for him to use as he pleases.

“Yes, please I need you Tae. Please fuck me.” He smiles warmly at you and gives his cock a few pumps with his hand before rubbing it over your folds to coat it with your wetness. A gasp leaves your mouth at the feeling of how hard he is and the need to have him fuck you is overpowering, and you whine.

You attempt to move your hips up to direct his length into you, but he obliges to your needs and sinks into you slowly.

Both of you moan simultaneously at the feeling and you hold onto his arms, feeling them flex under your fingers. He grinds into you, brushing against your walls deliciously. Taehyung was always mindful when he fucked you. He wasn’t the type of guy to chase his pleasure, he always made sure you were feeling good too, seeking validation.

“Tell me how I make you feel.” He demands softly and you moan.

“So so good. Your cock stretches me out so perfect. I love it.” His face grimaces in pleasure and he starts to pick up his pace. He uses his hands to hold your hips in place on the counter while you’re laid back on it. In this position, you can’t do too much to fuck him back, but he is taking everything into his hands, putting in the work to make you feel good.

“Fuck!” He pulls out abruptly and slaps his cock on your clit a couple times and you yelp.

“I can’t cum until you do one more time, ok?” You whimper from his words. You want him to cum so bad but he’s insistent and you can’t argue with him.

“Think you can give me one more, gorgeous?” And with that he’s back inside you, hitting your spot perfectly. Your legs start to ache a little from the position and you unknowingly clench around him. Taehyung lets out a choked moan and wraps his hand around the side of your neck.

“You gonna cum soon?” He asks and you give him a little “mm-hm” and he makes sure to keep the pace exactly how you like it. It becomes too much and you’re almost there, closing your eyes in pleasure.

Taehyung grabs your face by the jaw and says, “I want you to look at me when I make you cum, Y/n.” His dark stare along with his complete dominance over you is what drives you over the edge, fireworks exploding in your stomach and spreading all the way down to your toes and fingertips.

“That’s it, baby. Let go for me.” Taehyung coaxes you through your orgasm. You’re slowly floating back down from your high when you notice Taehyung pull out of you. His cock still erect but covered in your slick now.

“You still have it in you to finish me off?” He cheekily asks and you smile at him, getting off the counter with wobbly legs.

The sight of you kneeling down in front of him, flushed from being fucked out and wide eyes makes his cock twitch.

“Taste yourself.” He softly demands and you grab his length and take his tip into your mouth. Holy shit. Of course you’ve tasted yourself with Tae before, but this is completely different. Now you understand why Tae was so eager to eat you out. His cock is covered in your sweet syrup and you wanna lick him clean like a lollipop. Taehyung sees your surprised reaction to the taste and smirks at you knowingly.

“Tastes fucking amazing, doesn’t it?” You moan in agreement, and he gathers your hair in a makeshift pony, egging you on- “Have some more baby.”

You lick stripes up his shaft, the sweet taste filling your mouth. You know this is a little gross, but you couldn’t care less as you see his chest rising and falling due to your actions. You make sure to lick him fully clean of you before taking as much of his cock down your throat as you can.

“Fuck Y/n, your mouth is so perfect. Doing such a good job.” His praise sends tingles down your spine and only advances you to do a better job for him. You start moving your head up and down while you suck and use your hand to play with his balls. His sexy moans are getting louder, and you want him to cum so bad. You take your mouth off him but continue to jerk him off with your hand. Looking up at him with your innocent eyes, you tell him what you want.

“I want to taste all of you, Tae. I want your cum so bad.” He groans so loud from your words and starts to try to thrust into your mouth and you let him. You put your mouth back around him and he holds your head in place while he lightly fucks your throat. It’s not long until his cum goes down your throat in hot spurts. You swallow it all, the sweetness covering your tongue and you moan at the taste of him, making sure to suck his tip for the rest.

Tae is shivering under your touch and his chest is pink and lightly covered in a sheen of sweat. How am I so lucky? He helps you up onto your feet and you are face to face with him.

“You’re the devil Y/n, but why do you look like my little angel at the same time?” He pulls you into him and presses his lips into yours, intermingling his tongue with yours, definitely tasting both of you on your tongue. His dominance is so sexy, and you can’t believe you did something so dirty with him but for some reason you feel no shame at all.

Out of breath, you pull away and rest your forehead against his.

“We gotta take those berries to the bedroom next time, fuck.” He says and you giggle before giving him one more peck on the mouth.

A/N: Pls support by liking, reblogging, and commenting! I love to see feedback! I've had this in progress for a while but finally finished it and I hope you guys like it! I could have chosen any of the members but I felt like Taehyung would most likely be goofy enough to be so excited over these berries lol.

[dreadwedge]

Sometimes as an entrepreneur when you people ask me what LEGFINGER is i can't help but laugh. I mean, it should be pretty self-explanatory, right? LEGFINGER is a finger, only it can be affixed to one's leg. "Leg. Finger. Leg-finger." See? No advertising tricks, no fine print, no bullshit. if you were to purchase LEGFINGER today, what you would get is exactly what it says on the tin: LEGFINGER – The Finger Of The Leg. What's this? You're still confused? "But isnt that what a toe is?", you are saying? Absolutely not. In no way, semantically, functionally, or legally is LEGFINGER a toe, and frankly, to construe it to be as such would be an act of blatant dishonesty. No, I'm not upset at you. It's alright, I get this a lot; let me clarify. The difference is simple: toes are, I think any reasonable person would agree, the fingers of the feet. On the other hand, LEGFINGER bypasses the foot entirely for a direct Leg-To-Finger-Connection™. Additionally, toes also lack many of LEGFINGER's quality-of-life features and premium content like wifi capability or the upcoming LEGFINGER Battle Pass. So, yeah, I think it's safe to say LEGFINGER defiinitely not just some measly toe. I hope that clears things up. Ok, let's see, I'll have a large corned beef on rye and a medium root beer. What's that now? "Do I want a pickle with that?", you're asking me? Ha! What do I look like, the founder of NECKTOOTH? Uhhh yeah I think I'll be wanting a fuckin pickle man. Actually, you know what? Sales are up this quarter; why don't we make it two. That's two of your finest half-sour pickles, a corned beef sandwhich on rye, and a medium root beer, got it? You sure? I don't like repeating myself. I'm literally the LEGFINGER guy in case you forgot.

[didthatbeautymakeyou]

how i end up eating almost an entire bag of carrots (roasted carrots with cilantro-jalapeño dipping sauce)

in a food processor:

2 cloves of garlic

7-8 sprigs of cilantro

2-4 pickles jalepenos

a quarter of a small onion OR 2 stalks of green onion (whatever onion-y thing you have on hand)

juice of a lemon

heaping spoonful of mayo OR greek yogurt OR sour cream (if using tangier options, start with half of the lemon)

salt n pepper to taste

blend and leave in fridge to get good. preheat oven to 425° F.

get a whole bunch of carrots, peeled if you’re fancy, or scrubbed if you don’t care

cut carrots into sticks (i usually cut in half, separating thinner end from thicker end. i cut thinner end in half length wise, and thicker end in quarters length wise)

cover generously with olive oil, salt, and whatever spices you like (i usually stick with salt, pepper and paprika because other granulated spices tend to burn at that temperature)

lay on sheet pan in single layer (this allows for the carrots to roast instead of steam which i prefer and would argue yields a better flavor but if you don’t care, layer em up whatever, it’ll be fine)

roast on middle shelf of oven until fork tender and golden brown about 20-25 mins (check halfway through to either shake pan, or flip to ensure that they don’t stick and cook evenly)

serve with cilantro jalapeño dipping sauce and enjoy!

[unicyclehippo]

15. kiss on the back for the prompt thing!

Imogen has spent years submerged in the sweet, babbling waters of Laudna’s mind so, while she may not be able to hear her thoughts now, she still remembers their current. And besides, some things don’t need to be said. It’s an unspoken agreement between them—a quirked brow, the tilt of an answering smile—to return Zhudanna’s coin. 

Laudna distracts their elderly friend with an enthusiastic—and slightly gooey—recreation of recent journeys while Imogen carries the groceries to the kitchen. She unpacks jars of olives and honey and jam, every pickled thing they encountered, wax-wrapped cheeses, smoked and salted meats, dried fruits and beans, bags of fine-ground flour and spices. She leaves the fresh fruit and vegetables on the countertop with the pumpernickel loaves and, as she does, pulls Zhudanna’s lockbox from its hiding place beneath the beans with a subtle bit of magic. 

It’s easy to use her powers now. She knew she was getting stronger but something about being here—where she spent much of her time in degrees of agony with no way to control it or stop it, her powers flaring whenever they wanted to—the difference is stark. How reactive her magic is now, how finely-tuned to her will. A thought, and the lockbox opens. Imogen busies herself selecting and slicing an orange. Another thought, and the coins lift out of the shopping basket and zip over to the box. She arranges the orange segments on a colourful plate. The box clicks closed and slides back into place beneath the beans. It’s all done in a matter of seconds with Zhudanna none the wiser, even if she had peeked over to check on Imogen despite Laudna’s distraction—though how anyone could look away from Laudna for so much as a second during one of her stories - vibrant, enthralling as she is - Imogen doesn’t know. 

She lingers a while, helps herself to a slice of orange. It’s tart, almost sour, the way she likes them. The sun blankets half the kitchen in a square of light. Standing in that warmth recalls fragments of an old dream—baking, home, Laudna. The details are too faded and vanish when she reaches for them; in the space where they had been, her memory provides instead the aroma of baked bread and the cool press of Laudna’s lips against her own. Fingers sticky with orange, Imogen twists her wrist and presses her smile to the back of her hand. We kissed, she thinks, giddy, and suddenly the handful of steps separating her from the sitting room and Laudna is too far. 

‘—a shape like dripping tar, a great blob of malice, hovering in the air. It struck Orym with a spiralling bolt of shadow, pinning him against the rock!’ Imogen hears as she rejoins the story. 

‘Oh!’ Zhudanna squeaks. Her eyes are wide, both wrinkled hands covering her mouth in horror. When she speaks, she sounds so old—had she always, Imogen tries to recall, or is it all of this…this fucking mess around them? The solstice, the god-damning speeches, the fear suffusing the streets like thick jungle mist, the moon, the way oncoming way tilts the axis of every heart. ‘Oh,’ she says in a small, quavering voice, ‘oh dear, oh no, is he alright?’

‘Who?’

‘Your friend. Orym.’

The question makes Laudna’s smile falter. Zhudanna, half-blind, probably doesn’t notice. Imogen does. She fills the agonising pause, steps between them to put the plate down next to Zhudanna. By the time she plants herself on the footstool, twin to the armchair Laudna has claimed, Laudna has recovered. 

‘Yes. Yes, of course! He’s a warrior—a hero!’ Zhudanna heaves a sigh of relief at that, claps her hands. Laudna continues. ‘He pulled free of the shadow spear with a horrid yell and spray of blood—’

Geez, Laud, don’t forget she’s old as shit. 

And? She has such a creative soul, she’s enjoying—ah. I suppose…heart attacks…hmm. Should I…tone it down?

Imogen rests her chin on her hand as she settles in to listen to the rest of the story and, catching Laudna’s eyes, offers a small smile. Just for her, darlin’. 

With a wobbly nod—one that makes Imogen want to yank off the circlet and dive deep into Laudna’s thoughts, wade through them muck and all, hear for herself the knotted tangle of fear and nervy tension and trust she knows is causing havoc in there—Laudna launches back into her tale. 

‘Together with our dear new friend Prism–’

‘I like her,’ Zhudanna says. ‘Sensible, for one of those wizard types. Getting out there and having a go of it. Good for her.’

‘Indeed. Very sensibly, she and I harried the foul spirit with our joined magic, giving our companions time to protect the Heirophant and dragging them clear of the danger of this hungry shadow. We threw everything we had at it—flaying it of its shadow piece by piece, cracking its sallow face, until there was nothing left of it but a slug of tarred shadow that I crushed, sending it back to whence it came, into the merciless dark,’ she hisses, hand closing in a tight fist, eyes a brittle, glossy obsidian. After a moment, her intensity relents; the faint gloom in the corners of the room disperses like an audience post performance, and as it leaves, air rushes in to fill the empty space. ‘Anyway,’ she trills, ‘apparently that wasn’t the first time it had appeared there, can you believe that? The Heirophant—the elf Orym and Ashton saved—told us that they had fought it before—or was it their order that had? Hm. Don’t recall. But yes - it’s like a recurring thing. Like a bad ex turning up on their doorstep. But not a bad ex because Evithorir—’

‘Evi- Evirerth-’

‘Evithorir. I think. It was so hard to tell, it hissed a lot. Regardless, the shadow spirit, it turns out it was some, like, ancient terrible hungry fey spirit that sought to devour everything in the world, blah blah, the usual. Starting with Oma-Dua who is this - get this - equally ancient druid who buried herself in the last moments of her life in the depths of this cavern centuries ago to sustain the land around this mountain for the rest of time and took on the form of an enormous glowing green crystal…’

Laudna drifts into an odd silence and sinks back into the plush armchair, into herself, looking small and troubled. Her teeth dig well-worn trenches into her bottom lip as she loses herself in thought. 

Imogen clears her throat. ‘It’s been an awful long time since we got a proper rest, Zhudanna—d’you mind if we rest a while?’

‘Not at all, not at all. Let me move my easel, dear, and - ‘

‘No, please, don’t go to any trouble. I’ll set it aside, if that’s alright?’

‘Certainly, certainly.’

Zhudanna lets herself be distracted gracefully, pulling an old knitting project from the box by her chair. Her eyes—wrinkled, worried—linger on Laudna as Imogen helps her up from the chair, curling a gentle hand beneath each elbow. 

She looks so exhausted and Imogen is certain she’s bearing most of Laudna’s weight for her when she pulls her to her feet but she’s so fucking light it nearly has Imogen stumbling, off-balance. A dozen questions cluster behind Imogen’s teeth, on the threshold of her mind. Did you eat at all? Did you rest? Who took care of you? The thought might’ve made her jealous a month ago but now it just hurts. Laudna is too light, bordering on frail. Her hair is stringy—dirty, greasy, like its been a week since she washed it, brushed it, cared for it (for herself)—and Imogen knows the answer. Knows Laudna. She cares like caring is what keeps her alive, will drag the energy out of her own fucking marrow for everyone else and when it comes to her, she shows them something dead and dying, shows them a grinning skull. Something beyond repair, beyond need of care. 

Red flickers behind her eyes, smoulders in the cracks that split the tips of her fingers. But her hands stay gentle as Imogen helps Laudna to their old room. 

The door shuts behind them, shuts out the world. Blissful. There’s no window in here to show them the ruddy moon. There’s no crowds, no intrusive minds. No guards, no traitors, no one but the two of them. 

Laudna’s slow walk turns to a hobble. She sits at the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched. 

Giving her a little space, Imogen puts their bags at the footboard of the bed and Pate’s birdhouse on the bedside. He’s sleeping in there or pretending to be. Creepy, beloved spy. She moves the easel like she said she would, tucking it into an out of the way corner. 

‘She’s really very good, don’t you think?’

Laudna stirs. Glances over, dark eyes flicking between the easel and Imogen, and the smile she manages is a wavering thing but it holds steady at the corners. 

She’ll be alright, Imogen decides. Promises. 

‘Yes. Very talented, our Zhudanna.’ 

Her words trail off again and Imogen watches as Laudna begins to fidget, fingers twisting, tugging, pull and plucking in her lap. Was the closed room not blissful for her? Was it too crowded, with Imogen and her and all her thoughts and Delilah and now Bor’dor haunting her? Or was it as simple as the strain of her journey taking its toll? Or was it…

‘Do you regret it?’ Imogen blurts. Laudna stills. ‘The kiss, I mean. Me, kissin’ you. Because I know I asked and I know you kissed me back but if - if you got caught up in the moment or thought it’s what I want - Laud, you gotta know, it doesn’t matter to me how you care for me, I’m so - I’m so happy. So lucky. Just to have you near me. Truly.’

It takes a hell of an effort to shut up then—to bite her lip and give Laudna the room to speak. 

Her stomach flips from nerves and her traitor heart follows suit; it flips, flutters in her chest, so gentle and so warmed by the memory of getting to take Laudna’s face between her hands, getting to touch her after so long of only being able to dream about it, getting to lean in and—that kiss! The memory of it fizzles through her, sweet lightning, and it’s ridiculous, actually, because her hands start sweating and her lips tingle and her skin goes hot all over, sensitive. It’s such a silly feeling; she feels like a stumbling foal - clumsy and awkward, unsure, but so fucking eager to get up, go, explore. It’s silly - she feels silly with it, giggly and warm - and then, of course, sense reasserts itself firmly because Laudna hasn’t said anything yet—is staring over Imogen’s shoulder with a tiny, worried frown—and Imogen’s stomach sinks, veins flooding with ice. If she could just take off the circlet, but…

‘Laud?’

‘Imogen.’

‘Do you?’ It’s harder to ask the second time. ‘Do you…regret it?’

‘No,’ Laudna says in that barely-there way. Imogen wants the shadows back. Wants the intensity. Wants Laudna cackling over one of Pate’s horrendous comments, or chiding her for mussing the bedsheets. Anything but this ghost. ‘No, darling. I was - I was only thinking,’ she sighs, ‘how silly it is, how hard it is to talk about…well. About what we want.’ She blinks, dim and distant. ‘I often think that if only everyone were honest, there would be less space for misunderstanding and heartbreak –’ The words send Imogen’s heart sinking ever lower, but Laudna doesn’t seem to notice and continues, ‘– and cruelty and war and, oh, I don’t know. People wouldn’t get away with murder or inheritance trickery and such. I think about all the people who lie whenever they speak and how foolish it is and then it is my turn to speak and I…I’m terribly afraid.’

At that, Imogen crosses to sit beside Laudna on the bed. She takes one of her delicate hands in both of her own. It’s so light; bird-boned, Imogen thinks distractedly, mind cluttered with midnight-plumed ravens and the Duskmaven, of scavenging vultures and red seeping into cracked desert soil, of a canary in the dark. She hopes—as it gets harder to breathe, lungs struggling to contend with the weight of hope and panic—that Laudna won’t warn her away. 

‘You can tell me,’ Imogen says, and her words stay blessedly steady. ‘Even if you think I don’t want to hear it. I do. I do.’

For a long moment, Laudna examines their hands. Intertwined. Her own—delicate, long-fingered, pale. The dark web of stagnant veins. Imogen’s—broader, tanned, calloused. The cracked skin, red seeping out. Squeezing Imogen’s hand, Laudna says,

‘I won’t lie, darling. I won’t tell you I wasn’t surprised. I was. I am. You are—’ Dark eyes lift to meet Imogen’s; without thoughts to skim, all Imogen can see in the depths is warmth, a glittering fondness. Sorrow lurks there too, somewhere, even if she can’t see it. ‘You are extraordinary. Young and beautiful and so very alive. I - you wishing to kiss me - you understand why I might be startled. I don’t know what I can offer you, darling. I will always be at your side, of course—to protect you, to wake you from your nightmares, to support you, to - to tether you against the storm, as you said, but - ‘

‘But what?’ Imogen shakes her head with a gentle laugh. ‘Who could ask for more than that?’

‘And the kissing?’

‘We don’t have to do it again. If you don’t like it.’

Laudna tilts her head; it’s not a no, but neither is it a yes. ‘You could choose anyone—’

‘I want only you.’

‘Even though I am—’ Laudna cuts off the words with a snap of her teeth. Turns away, sending a gloomy look to the dim corners of their room. 

Imogen’s heart thuds, hard, against her ribs. She rubs at at it, sympathetic. Her bruised heart. She wants what it wants—to be close, ever closer. To hug her, hold her tight. To love her. To rip Delilah out of her—fry the bitch, burn her to ashes, and the ashes to smoke, and the smoke to nothing at all in white lightning—and then offer up her own heart to fill the lack. To welcome Laudna into the red hollow of her ribs, already wondering what kind of home she could make out of them. To take back the ruby ring and present it again, with all the ceremony Laudna deserves. To kiss her. Again and again. 

But right now, Laudna doesn’t need a storm, even one of love. She only needs Imogen to listen to her. So she asks,

‘Even though you’re what?’

Laudna’s hands curl into talons and a snarl erupts from her throat. Earlier, Imogen hadn’t known what to make of the idea that Laudna could summon a wolf but she gets it now. Hears it in that mournful, ragged sound. 

‘Dead. Broken.’ She claws at her heart. ‘Weak.’

‘No. You’re not, sweetheart, no.’

Imogen cannot resist reaching forward. She keeps her touch feather-light. Skims a high cheekbone before sliding back to the strand of dark hair that has escaped its high bun. She tucks it behind Laudna’s ear with exacting care, thumb grazing the gold ear-cuff. I see you. Every bit. Laudna’s eyes fill with inky tears and, when Imogen lifts her other hand to cradle her precious, lovely face, Laudna leans into the touch. 

For a moment, Imogen can only stare. 

There is no one in the world like Laudna—so starkly beautiful, so sweet, so enchanting. There is no one half as creative. She knows Laudna’s story—saw her die—but no one could spend an hour in Laudna’s presence and leave thinking her anything other than vibrant. How could that be death? And as for broken, well, Imogen thinks of the mosaics in Uthodurn’s royal halls, and of stained glass windows in the Dawnfather’s hall—what little she had overhead of that part of Laudna’s story—and thinks of Laudna’s mendings and crafts and the hundreds of achingly beautiful smiles Laudna has made up just for her and yes, maybe she’s been broken, but who hasn’t? How can that make her less? Less lovely, less wonderful? It doesn’t. It doesn’t. She thinks of faith and lets her pinkie slip down to touch, so gently, the ragged mark of Laudna’s first death. She thinks of destiny and meets Laudna’s eyes. 

Beautiful, she thinks, and then - because they are being truthful, because they are telling each other the truth - she says it out loud too. 

‘You’re beautiful. You’re my—‘ Imogen falters, tries to think of a word that doesn’t stick in her chest like a knife, but pushes on because her love doesn’t make her fearless, it just makes her brave. ‘My favourite.’

Her blush blooms purple under Imogen’s hands. Laudna glances down, shy, then up from under lashes dark and sticky with inky makeup, splayed like delicate spider legs. 

‘It is strange,’ Laudna says, covering Imogen’s hands with her own when she starts to pull away, worried. ‘Don’t leave, darling. Let me… Let me?’ 

Let her lean in, yes, let her press close, forehead to forehead, yes, stay so still when Laudna touches her cheek, fleeting. Laudna trembles—afraid? excited? damn this fucking circlet—but the contact settles her and when she retreats, she pulls Imogen’s hands from her cheeks but doesn’t let them go. She breathes in and out. Then says, 

‘Waking from death is much like waking from sleep, except it hurts. Only a little but all the time.’

Imogen’s fingers brush over Laudna’s wrist, where her pulse plods away. ‘Laudna,’ she whispers, not to interrupt. Only because Laudna ought never go a moment thinking she didn’t care. 

‘For all those years, even though I…I ran and built my huts and Pate too, of course, and of course I felt things—fear and loss and joy, too, sometimes—I was alive and awake but. So much of me was still dead. I was so - confused. And angry, often. I was surviving, you see. I had strength enough to hold myself together and fix things, here and there, but no more than that. I was hungry, all the time, I had so many teeth.’ Laudna searches her face. ‘And then I met you and you helped. Cared. These past years with you… It used to be that when I wanted something, it - it was hunger I felt. This endless hunger. A great pit in my chest. And it was hard to tell, you see, what it was I wanted except for everything, anything I could get my hands on. Do you understand?’

Imogen gnaws at her lip. Slowly, she shakes her head. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t.’ She dips her head, catches Laudna’s eyes. ‘Explain it to me?’

Laudna’s fingers shake as she slides them over the backs of Imogen’s hands. Long fingers curl around one of Imogen’s wrists and she lifts it to press a chaste kiss to her knuckles, lips cool against the burning ridge of her oldest lightning scar. 

‘You have given me so much. You gave me friendship and purpose and trust. Food. Fun and stories. Strength. A bed. A home. And the hunger…it doesn’t gnaw so terribly, darling. Now, when I - when I want something, it isn’t an impossible task. I needn’t lose myself in that great black pit, blinding searching for what I lack. It starts to make sense. I start to make sense. What I want. Outside of her, and hunger. You’ve given me so much,’ Laudna tells her, and her voice creaks with the weight of her words. ‘How can I possibly take more? How - selfish, how greedy it would be to want… To want.’

‘Do you want me to kiss you?’ Imogen asks, voice soft. She tries not to sound to hopeful. 

Launda holds her hands for a long time. It’s maddening, because Laudna never stays still for long; she doesn’t now either, instead stroking tiny patterns against her skin, fingers sliding over and between her own. At the occasional scratch of her nails, a frisson of electricity crackles down Imogen’s arms, through her body. Finally, Laudna nods. 

‘I do. Oh, Imogen, I do. I didn’t know it - I knew I would be content for centuries, the rest of my days, if only I could sleep in your bed, stand at your side, content with any touch or favour you might share with me. And then - to be kissed?’ A shy smile creeps across her lips. ‘Would it be terribly unfunny to say it struck me like a bolt?’

Imogen snorts. Pulls her hands free so she can shove at her—lightly, though, barely enough to make even Laudna sway. Her hands settle on the tender branching of Laudna’s collarbones. The fabric of the new dress is silk-smooth under her palms; the lace neckline, though, catches against her work-rough, scar-rough fingers. She strokes it again, entranced. It’s so soft, the lace, in its reluctance to let her go. It’s so beautiful, the whorling patterns of leaves and flowers, and the contrast of blue-black fabric against Laudna’s pale skin is enough to make her glow. And beneath lace and skin, the steady tap of Laudna’s pulse—a knock on the door, on the coffin lid, here I am. 

Beautiful. 

‘That’s dreadful,’ she scolds, wrinkling her nose. 

‘That’s me. Full of dread.’ A ghostly visage flickers across Laudna’s face, there—skin and skull shifting, FRIDA’s inspiration?—and gone. ‘And you?’ she asks. ‘You too?’

‘Full of dread?’

‘Do you wish to kiss me, I meant, actually.’

Imogen swallows harshly. ‘Yeah,’ she rasps. ‘Yeah, I do.’

A frown pinches Laudna’s forehead. ‘Have you been afflicted with this desire for long?’

‘Afflict— You say it like it’s a sickness or somethin’,’ Imogen teases, but Laudna flaps a hand for her to hurry up and tell, so she shrugs. ‘Um. Yeah. I ‘spose I’ve been wantin’ to kiss you for a while,’ she admits, cheeks burning. ‘When I could hear you, it was… Do you remember when Dusk was hangin’ around, you told me you hadn’t thought about it? Hadn’t accessed that part of your brain?’ Laudna nods. ‘I know. I knew that. Because sometimes, when we were close and you…’ 

Imogen pauses. Sucks in a breath—it’s a little stuffy in their room, no windows, but it smells of freshly laundered sheets and paint and wood polish and Laudna and Imogen lets it steady her. 

‘D’you know that you say the kindest, sweetest things sometimes? You always know what to do to calm me down or make me laugh, even when the whole world is—’ She gestures awkwardly to the south wall where the moon hovers in her minds eye. ‘You know. Going to shit. And sometimes—I wasn’t sure how much you…’ She stops again, lips twisting, frustrated. ‘I knew that you cared for me because, well, because you do.’

‘Naturally, of course.’

‘But sometimes I wondered if…if you wanted to kiss me, like I sometimes thought of doing. But when I looked into your mind, you were never thinkin’ about it so -’ Imogen shrugs, cheeks hot. ‘I never brought it up. You hardly ever thought about it when other folk were flirtin’ or talkin’ about it, so I figured it wasn’t something you wanted. And that didn’t matter to me! Just so long as you were with me, and we were together, I was happy with that. But then Dusk,’ Imogen strangles the name in her throat, hopes fiercely that Yu can feel it, wherever the fuck they might be, ‘put the idea in your head and then they…left…and you were confused and I’d sometimes catch flashes of it in your head but it didn’t feel right to bring it up, even though sometimes I thought—the way you were lookin’ at me, and not pullin’ away when I was lookin’ at you—I thought…maybe? Maybe it was - Maybe you could. Think like that. And when you died—’ Her voice cracks. ‘That wasn’t the right time either, obviously,’ she scoffs. Pulls a hand back to swipe at her eyes. 

‘Darling,’

‘It had to be your choice. All of it. Everything, after what happened. And I was fucking terrified because of all those questions in my head like if I’d be pushin’ you if I asked, or makin’ you more of a target, burdenin’ you with all this Predathos moon shit—’

‘Never. Never a burden.’

‘—and then I got this,’ Imogen taps her circlet, ‘and I couldn’t hear you anymore, couldn’t check, and so, yeah, Laudna, you could say I’ve been thinkin’ about it for a while.’

‘Thinking about,’ she says, so carefully, like she’s afraid if she speaks it too loud or too fast the whole thing will break, ‘kissing. Me.’

Imogen laughs. Smiles at her with her whole face, her whole heart. Every soft, exposed, grotesque, tender part of it. ‘Yeah, sweetheart. Is that alright?’

Laudna nods jerkily. Eyes Imogen’s mouth curiously. ‘Can I - that is, if it’s alright with you,’

‘Please,’ Imogen whispers, and she isn’t sure if she’s reading her own mind or if Laudna’s is loud enough to overpower the circlet, if she’s letting the power of it subside in her eagerness to know if Laudna wants what she wants, but it’s so clear—Laudna’s dark eyes, warm and kind and wanting; her reaching hands, aligning them hurt to hurt, heart to heart; plum lips pressing, ever so gently, against hers. 

The kiss lasts a heartbeat. Barely long enough to register the touch. Even so, Laudna flushes deeply. Touches her fingers to her mouth and breathes out, shaky. 

‘Oh. Imogen.’

Imogen lifts a hand—‘Can I? Let me, please’—to Laudna’s neck, grazing the high collar she’d been so jealous of in the store for getting to touch Laudna’s neck, but adores now as she coaxes it down so she alone can see, can touch the soft skin of her neck. Feel the way Laudna’s breath hitches when she does, her shiver as Imogen’s fingers slide forward, following the path of her jaw and swiping beneath the hinge of it—tender, awed, lingering on the mottled silver marks of bullet holes and torn skin—before she slides her fingers into the curtain of dark dark. She presses gently, guides her forward for another kiss. Her lips find the corner of Laudna’s mouth and smiles at the noise of displeasure it pulls. 

‘I think,’ Imogen whispers, kisses her more solidly. Tilts her head and loses herself in Laudna: Laudna’s nose nudging into her cheek; Laudna’s hands fluttering between her elbows and shoulders before laying gently on her back; a clumsy bump of lips, which is actually mostly chin, a giggled apology, and then something gives and Laudna’s lips are on hers again, steady and slow and careful, like they have all the time in the world, like now that she is here there is no where she would rather be. Imogen pulls back, licks her lips. Citrus bursts on her tongue. 

Laudna stares at her mouth. ‘What - ‘ She has to clear her throat, voice breathy, like Imogen has kissed all the air out of her and the thought makes want crackle beneath Imogen’s skin. ‘What do you think?’

‘Amazing. Great. Perfect.’

Dark eyes gleam. Laudna smiles—no, she smirks. ‘Darling. You were saying something, that you thought…?’

‘Oh.’ Imogen starts to speak—and has to stop. She laughs. ‘Y’know, I’ve totally forgotten?’

‘Oh.’ Laudna’s blush deepens. She’s so fucking pretty. ‘It will come back to you. If it’s important.’ She fidgets. Reaches out a hand to touch Imogen’s elbow, her knee. She looks for a moment as if she is about to speak but then a calm settles over her and she only smiles and nods. ‘Do you mind, dearest, if I take a little time to fix the birdhouse? Only Pate said it’s dreadfully uncomfortable and I think - if I add some soft cushion fabric, maybe curtains - I can fix the place up for him.’

Imogen nods. She understands—and could do with a minute to calm down too. She crawls around Laudna up to the headboard, props herself up against it. 

Laudna frowns. ‘Really? Boots on the bed?‘

She smiles, closes her eyes. ‘It’ll be alright, I’ll magic the dirt away after.’

‘It’s the principle of the thing,’ Laudna insists. After a few moments of Imogen ignoring her, Laudna sets aside the birdhouse and begins to unbuckle Imogen’s boots. Imogen watches, thoughts far too chaotic to pin down. It doesn’t take long—Laudna has helped her before, when migraines stopped her from doing just about anything—and she pats Imogen’s shin, tuts at the unhappy state of her socks, and mends the hole by her big toe with a needle and thread of black shadow. It looks good as new when she is done. 

‘There,’ Imogen drawls, snuggling down into the pillow at her back. ‘What would I do without you?’

Laudna laughs. ‘You’d wear boots in bed and put your cups upside down on the shelves–’

‘First of all, I’m right about that and second of all,’ she nudges Laudna with her toe, ‘I never wanna find out.’

She smiles and, oh, Imogen thinks, Dawnfather, eat your heart out. You don’t know light like this. You couldn’t make a light like hers if you had a thousand solstices. 

//

They spend a lazy afternoon together. They don’t kiss again—Laudna is far too intent on her work, and Imogen merely watches her and allows time and proximity to ease the tight, grating knot of nerves in her chest that had built with every moment of Laudna’s absence. She asks easy questions and retreads old, familiar jokes and stories, and everything resettles. In some ways, it is as it has always been. It’s the two of them, together. It’s also new in a way that makes Imogen’s heart flutter every time she remembers; I kissed her, I can kiss her. 

‘Pate,’ Laudna croons, as she takes apart old clothes and blankets, stitches them into cushions for the interior of the birdhouse. ‘Come out, come out, wherever you are,’ she sings, and the rat-bird clambers out of his wooden house and up her arm, waits until she’s packed the cushions into place to skitter back inside, taking pride of place in the decadence. ‘What do you think of your new ho-ome?’ It’s so fucking weird. They both are. Imogen has to get closer to her. Tucks a foot under Laudna’s knee—who beams at her, wraps a chilly hand around her ankle and keeps her close—and makes a note to kiss Pate on top of his awful little skull soon. Just because. ‘What do you think? Will this be more comfortable?’

‘It’s nice!’ he croaks, little paws patting walls and floor. ‘I do have a suggestion, though—’

‘What! You’ve only been alive for a few months, what could you possibly know about decorating?’ she demands, aghast. 

Pate flies from the house, landing on the roof. There are no eyes in his bird skull but Imogen swears he rolls them anyway. ‘Pfft! What don’t I know? I’m the whole package, you know. Bird brains and rat cunning, fanks very much.’

‘Fine, then, if you’re so smart! What’s your suggestion?’

‘Curtains.’

‘Curtains?’

‘Curtains. For, you know, setting the mood, or sleeping in the day. Or if you two need a little, heh, private time to lock lips—’

‘Alright, yes, fine!’ Laudna yelps. ‘I’ll make you some damn curtains!’

Pate chuckles. His wings peel open with a wet squelch that Imogen is never going to get used to—how could he be wet, he’s been dead for years, that’s what she wants to know—and he takes off with one, two laborious flaps of his wings, gliding down to the bed covers and scampering back into his now-comfortable home. ‘Thank ye kindly,’ he calls out from within.

Laudna grumbles as she pulls together curtains rather quickly, delving in her pack for supplies. She pulls out shards of metal–splinters, almost, but as long as her palm. 

‘What’re those?’ Imogen asks, as she tries to bully the pillow under her head into a more comfortable shape. 

‘Hm? Oh - one of Ashton’s climbing pitons. It shattered.’

The pillow refuses to be comfortable; Imogen gives up, gets up to search the room for wherever the other pillow went. She finds it, after a while, on the top shelf of the little linen closet and jumps for it before remembering she knows telekinesis. How in the nine hells Zhudanna even got it up there, she has no clue. Wandering back to the bed, Imogen watches over Laudna’s shoulder for a minute as she crafts. 

‘You went climbing?’

‘When we were separated, that’s where we landed,’ Laudna says. ‘On a cliffside. Jagged rocks, Steam vents. Now that I think about it, we were rather lucky, actually, that we didn’t appear in the air above a sharp spike or roll off the cliff. But yes, we had to climb,’ she says, and tells Imogen all about it— finding Deni$e - Mona, at the time—and the climb and the endless valley of verdant trees. 

Imogen listens carefully, heart heavy. She thinks of a long, cold walk and finding truly kind friends at the end of it - a celestial bull they befriended - shopping - the warmth and bustle and commerce and, yes, anxiety, of Uthodurn, and meeting royalty—and she thinks of Laudna, who dislocates something whenever she sneezes, having to pull herself up a cliffside. She rubs Laudna’s shoulder and dips her head, presses a kiss there on her back—because she can, because she wants to, because Laudna wants it too. Laudna hums, a happy sound. 

‘I’m sorry you ended up there.’

‘It wasn’t all bad. It was rather beautiful. I would have enjoyed it, I think, if you had been there.’

‘Maybe we’ll go together someday.’

Laudna smiles. Affixes one of the piton curtain-rods into place as Pate guides her—’Higher, higher on the left - other left - all of it lower now - perfect!’

‘I think Ashton will want to go back.’

‘Oh?’

‘There was something of the Hishari there - a town. Cursed now, apparently. He wants answers.’

‘Then that’s what we’ll do,’ Imogen agrees. ‘Kill the moon, then go on holiday to a cursed town in Issylra. Sounds nice.’

//

‘You were right, by the way,’ Imogen says later, as they walk back from the Windowed Wall to their friends. 

‘Of course I was.’ Laudna beams across at her, tone bright, teasing; it’s such a shift from her mood of the morning that Imogen can do nothing but smile back at her. ‘About what, though?’

‘You said if it was important, I’d remember what I was gonna say. And I remember now.’’ Imogen wraps her arm through Laudna’s, pulls her in tight. There aren’t many people crowding the street but she doesn’t need an excuse to hold her close anymore. ‘You know, the thought you kissed right outta my head?’ 

‘Imogen!’ Laudna slaps her hand lightly, but her eyes gleam. Imogen thinks she might be pleased by the idea of driving her to distraction. ‘Well, go on then. What was it?’

‘You asked if I’d been thinking about it for a long time. Kissin’ you. I was gonna say, I think I’ll never get it outta my head. I’m gonna be thinkin’ about kissing you forever. If that’s alright with you.’

Laudna’s chin lifts - proud, pleased by the idea, clearly - and she gains what could only be called a strut. Her cheeks colour faintly. ‘I’ll be thinking about it too.’ Her eyes glitter brightly over a sweet smile. ‘After all, you’re very capable,’ she teases, and laughs, delighted, at the blush her words pull from Imogen. 

They’re still smiling when they rejoin their friends. It earns them strange looks, but fond, relieved. No one pries—though Ashton has a stare like a crowbar—and they say nothing, for now. 

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 28 - Possibilities

The rogue rolls an insight check. And passes!

On AO3.

Two days later, her scent returns to normal. She’s moving better—faster—than before. Doesn’t stop to puff air. It hurts her, the moon blood. He knows it’s uncomfortable from dormitory gossip and two hundred years of prowling about for marks. But his leader is a stoic sort, and for it to effect her so tells him it hurts her a great deal.

Yet she didn’t complain (aside from breaking into random swearing now and again). Did her best not to slow them down.

Let him feed on her.

He thought he had her figured out. Truly, this time. Then she goes and confounds him.

Which only gets worse when she stops on the second day and says, in Chondathan (because he thought it prudent after the drow incident to teach her), “Body.”

He smells no blood or bowels or decay. Must be an ancient thing. A notch to her growing fortitude that she only hesitates a moment before shuffling over to search for a pack or bags to loot.

He’s rather proud.

More so—mixed in with that wretched confusion—when she hums in interest and then comes over. Finds his sleeve to tug (signal to lift his hand), and plonks two scrolls into his grasp.

He’s at a bit of a loss at first. With no sight, he can’t exactly read, and he’s never asked her for any books when he could. And then his moth-eaten memory catches up.

He’d told her he could learn magic through scrolls. She’d agreed to it. Said if they found anything, she would gift them to him. So here she is, doing just that.

She could have said nothing and stashed them away and he’d be none the wiser. Could give them to companions more appreciative, more valuable. Could even sell them—she needs coin, after all. Scrolls tend to fetch a fair price. But here she is, making good on what he thought was a throwaway, empty promise, even though he can’t even utilize them at the moment.

Because they are spellwork scrolls. He can sense it thrumming softly through the parchment.

“I…” he starts. Catches himself and paints on a practiced smile. “Thank you.”

“Yee-awp,” she drawls, which he’s learned by now is a word of consent.

Then she goes back to rummaging through whatever else the dead traveler left for them in a half-rotted rucksack. No thought at all. No hesitation. She doesn’t even force him to acknowledge her generosity or play it up.

Because…because it might not be an act.

And then he has to stand there in the realization that he did, in fact, just think that. And he does, in fact, possibly believe it might be true.

Not an act. Perhaps…perhaps none of it. Not feeding him. Not arming him. Not protecting him or giving him valuables or entertaining him or…

Astarion carefully breathes in, and then out.

It still does nothing to calm him, but it is a distraction to his racing mind.

Not an act. What even else could it be?

In the far, far off distance, something rumbles.

***

They make a cold, quiet camp once more. His…she chews sadly on the last of her dried fish. She still has some form of preserved ones (pickled, he thinks, and doesn’t that just sound disgusting). But she’s been understandably reluctant to crack that ration open.

Astarion ran out of his own piscean vintage a day ago. He’s used to (had been used to) going far longer without. This is (should be) nothing.

Yet he’s grown accustomed to bounty. Bunnies and boar, deer and bear and squirrels, in a pinch. Bandits and goblins and even the occasional githyanki (so sour). And her. But it’s far too soon to tap that cask. Not without their cleric to make sure a few sips wouldn’t send her face-first into the ground.

So he sits and fiddles with a shoddy mend on a pair of trousers he’s been carrying around (shoddy because his normally small, neat stitches have turned sloppy without functioning eyes). And he tries not to think.

He fails terribly in that regard.

His leader only has two bottles of her language potion left. They’ve both agreed she ought to save them for something important. Or, much more likely, something dire.

She falls asleep as humans do. Leaves him to his fiddling. So he cleans his knives, checks his long-healed wounds (it was growing inside his flesh) and finds nothing but his own cool, firm skin and muscle. No knobs. No ridges. So he checks twice more just to be certain.

He has to focus on breathing for a time after that.

And ends up listening to her.

She’s a fairly calm sleeper. The wizard mutters now and then, the tiefling rolls about in her bedding like a roast on a spit, and the Blade bloody hums. In his sleep.

She moves about now and then—unlike both the cleric and the gith, who lie as if they’re the ones without a pulse. But nothing loud or dramatic. Quiet even in her unsupervised hours.

Except…there. A tiny snore. Not all the time, and not obvious to anyone except him. It’s soft. Especially when she sleeps with her mouth open. An act of rebellion, perhaps? A subconscious challenge to her usual grim silence?

He likes it. It gives him something to listen for, in the dark and the cold. He’s not alone. Not locked away.

Eventually, he pulls the scrolls out. Runs his fingers along the length of them to get a feel for the magic inked onto their surface. It’s a rather tedious process, creating scrolls such as these. It requires the right words, certainly. But the parchment itself is infused with magic from the beginning. The most powerful of them are cut from the hides of magical creatures: displacers, basilisks, even dragons, if one can manage it.

Even the wood is preferably sourced from magical or spellwork-friendly material: kirin trees, phandar, or rowan. Not to mention kraken ink and the work that goes into enchanting that.

But none of that means anything to a man whose eyes don’t work thanks to some desiccated harpy of a mad, dead wizard. He has heard of enchanters creating scrolls with raised script for those with no or limited sight—sadly, these are not among that number.

She gave them to him, though. And should they find the cleric or the wizard or that damned druid—who probably landed in a bottomless crevasse and that’s why none of them have encountered the freakishly giant elf—he’ll get them to fix his problem and these shall be worthwhile again. Unless they can’t. Unless he’s stuck like this and that thought has been lurking all along but he’s never allowed it to the forefront and—

His companion snorts, grunts. He listens to her shift and resettle on the bedroll she plundered.

She gave these to him. And she let him have that necklace, too.

He retrieves it. Feels the cool links sift through his fingers like water, until the weight of the thing rests on his palm. He thinks there are words written on the cascading pendants holding jewels. Ones he can’t read with his fingers. And he can sense the edges of the spell, reminding him of a cool, spring morning just before dawn. He tries to lean into it. Can almost smell the streets of the lower city in the gray hours just before the sun rises. A stolen moment, lurking in the shadows, glancing up to the mansion where that bastard waits, wishing he could be somewhere else, anywhere else, turning and walking into the morning m—

It slips through his mind. He’s once again in the dark, imprisoned within his own body again.

He curls his fingers around the necklace so hard his finger bones ache.

He’s a stupid boy. Ill-mannered and ill-used. He’d told her elves have a proclivity for magic, and he used to be an elf, but he’s never had need for such a skill. Not at the beginning, and certainly not recently. He’s a pretty face whose only talent is in the bedroom. He’s a thing to be used and cast aside.

Yet. He remembers the sharp edge of her certainty when she slapped down the idea of carving the fungi out of him. Her absolute conviction that they would not hurt him, he would not hurt him, that he didn’t deserve that. She was so sure.

She believed him. Continues to believe the light twist on the truth he’d told her about being able to learn. That he can be valuable to her. To himself, even.

He has to hold very, very still after that thought.

And then comes another: to make himself more valuable, he’d be making himself more dangerous.

What had she said about the people she’d grown up with? They’d made it their job to control people? Cazador adored that. It was, all of the spawn were certain, the only thing he adored.

That bastard kept them hungry. Literally starving.

It wasn’t just about punishment, was it.

None of them used magic, save for Leon. But Leon had been brought in very recently, and he was strongly encouraged not to use his previous life’s talents. And Leon was often the favorite. Had to be the favorite, to win the private room for the child he’d been foolish enough to bring with him. To be the favorite, he often watched the other spawn. He watched Astarion. He reported back.

She’d said something about that, too, hadn’t she? Favorites?

More thoughts flit to the surface and hum about like tiny birds. That’s been occurring more now he’s free from the mental chains (thou shalt not leave my side, thou shall obey me in all things). Especially with a belly full of blood (thou shalt not drink from a thinking creature) (but how he’s done just that).

That bastard made them weak. Kept them weak. On purpose. Kept them terrified and pathetic. Deliberately. Kept them at each others’ throats (only somewhat metaphorically).

And if he can drink the blood of a living creature, perhaps he could learn as well?

The woman snoring softly next to him—trusting him at her most vulnerable—thinks him capable of being more than he actually is. Her plans work often enough. She’d not a dullard, not even a yokel, he has to admit (sometimes). She’s clever and insightful (sometimes), if wildly strange. And if she can talk down an ogre, shape shift a nascent god, and stage a coup on a gaggle of fishbeasts?

He slips the necklace back on. Tucks it safely into his tunic to rest against his chest.

Perhaps she’s right in her belief? Perhaps what she sees when she looks at him and hands him valuable scrolls and an enchanted necklace could be true. He needn’t be a severed puppet or a witless whore. He could be something else.

Something more.

[metamorphesque]

Not the anon who asked about the typical lunch but it's very interesting! I live in an area in America that has the largest population of Armenians outside of Armenia so now I'm A) hungry and B) looking forward to trying some things!

Well, my friend, in that case, let me recommend a couple of gems:

I’m sure you’ve already heard of Armenian barbecue (khorovats) and kebab. However, I’m still going to mention them because, vegetarian or not, I’m Armenian hehe.

Dolma – Meat, spices and other ingredients rolled into cabbage or grape leaves. Do yourself a favor and dip this in matsun (sour yogurt) with garlic. Not to toot my own horn, but I’ve been told I make some good dolma.

Pasuc dolma – The vegetable-filled version of traditional meat-filled rolls. Since its recipe is entirely plant-based, it’s a very convenient dish to serve during the fasting period. It is made of 7 different boiled grains, such as beans, lentils, chickpeas, cracked wheat, rice and maize peas (though the recipe can vary). All of the grains mentioned above are then wrapped in pickled cabbage or grape leaves. Pasuc tolma can be served hot or cold. My grandma used to make the best pasuc dolma.

Harissa – A “porridge” made from ground wheat and pulled meat (it can be chicken, lamb, etc.), usually served with butter. It’s especially good in cold weather and pairs well with vodka.

Khash – Now, khash is not your ordinary soup – it’s a whole tradition and a half. Even the toasts are well-defined and announced in a specific order. It even has its own season. Khash season in Armenia begins in late autumn, during the first cold days, and continues until the beginning of spring. The process of preparing khash is quite long and tiring, but the result is worth it. It’s made by boiling bovine shanks for hours until the tendons fall off the bones and the broth becomes thick. Sometimes, cooked stomach pieces are added. No salt is used during cooking, but it is seasoned with salt and crushed garlic once served. Cold vodka, mineral water, radish, pickles, peppers and dry lavash are all served alongside khash. Crushed garlic, greens, cheese, and, of course, salt must also be on the table.

Khashlama – Usually made with lamb and vegetables, the meat is so tender it falls off the bone.

Ghapama – A dish so mouthwatering that there’s a song dedicated to it. Ghapama is prepared by removing the insides of a pumpkin. The top of the pumpkin is cut off, and the ingredients (boiled rice, nuts, and dried fruits) are added inside. The pumpkin is closed on top with the cut lid, wrapped in foil and placed in the oven. Cooking times vary, usually taking from 40 minutes to 1.5 hours. The pumpkin is baked until soft, then served. Before serving, the pumpkin is cut from top to bottom into slices.

Jengyalov hats (Armenian bread with jengyal – greens) - a flatbread filled with about 25 types of greens. The recipe and the variety of greens used differ depending on the region.

բարի ախորժակ!

[nathandrakeisabottom]

Yesss please sam drake food/eating hcs?? Fave meals, hated meals, etc

It is with great joy and great belatedness that I post my first Uncharted piece in ages. Thank you for the lovely ask, anon. :)

⋆ Sam Drake - Eating Headcanons ⋆

Two words: scarcity mindset.

After running away from Saint Frances’s, to claim money was tight is to be telling some humorous bit, Money was borderline non-existent. And as such, came what the Drake boys do best: theft. 

Liquor stores were their easiest, and most consistent source. Sam still takes great pride in telling his many stories revolving around ‘cashier meet-cutes’ disguising their proudest heist to date: a 12-year-old Nathan smuggling canned goods under a moth-holed hoodie. 

Because of this, gas station snacks: twinkies, Lays chips, slurpees, etc. all tend to give him this simultaneous sense of nostalgia and nausea. Like when you’re eating eggs and all of a sudden, your body gags on the next bite.

But on an especially shitty day, expect him to be gobbling a Big Gulp and a half-frozen hot dog on the nearest street corner, with a half-smoked cigarette still sunken between his lips. It’s the way he wallows. 

Secretly wants you to tell him how bad that shit is for him so he has an excuse to snottily spat back “who the ‘ell cares?”. He finds pride in not caring about anything. (He cares about everything.)

Getting fast food at the drive-thru? Man waves you off a total of three times claiming he doesn’t want nothing before proceeding to eat half of your McNuggets without asking. He loves BBQ sauce and needs Tabasco on everything like it’s his will to live.

Big fan of spicy, sour, and tart, anything that makes your mouth pucker. Pretzels, salt and vinegar chips, cottage cheese, pickles, pineapple (😉). “What can I say? I admire a fruit that fights back!” — he snorts before taking a raw bite of a lemon, just to squirm you out.

Maybe a bit of the masochist in him. 

When he and Nate were able to get proper gigs (12-year-old Nathan: illegally, of course), they were able to progress to the simplest of grocery outlet options. Eggs, instant ramen packets, canned vegetables that were 9 out of 10 times eaten raw out of the can with a fork, and more nothing-but-toast-for-dinner than they’d want to admit).

Sam and Nate spent most of their childhood eating their dad’s scrambled eggs and microwaved peas. When their mom passed, and dad released them to the state, Sam decided he’d only ever eat over-easy again.

Nate still chooses scrambled. He asks for cheese and green onions to split the difference, but always ends up only eating half of it before the memories come too strong and he has to push his plate away. 

QUICK eater. MESSY eater. And I mean quick and messy. 

Will use as minimal cutlery as possible, and if disposable, even better.

A scooper. Tends to be a chronic careless spiller with how frequently he tries to funnel all the last crumbs into his mouth, how quickly he chugs even a glass of water. (Most shirts of his are stained as a result.)

Tends to wait till the last possible moment to eat or drink anything. Breakfast basically doesn’t exist to him. 

Spills more beverage down his chin and shirt than his mouth (but a wet t-shirt certainly isn’t the worst thing to happen. Especially not to Samuel Drake. ;)

Pizza order: Meat Lover’s with extra sausage. Maybe some green bell peppers when he finally compromises with Nate during movie night.

Never, ever orders (well, non-alcoholic) drinks when eating out. And only water when he finally lets himself cave. Otherwise, he’s stealing sips from the nearest patron’s Jarrito bottle (his favorite is Tamarind).

Doesn’t bother cleaning up his fruit peels or peanut shells, even around others. That shit’s going on the floor without a second look.

Surprisingly, a king and natural on the BBQ. Despite having so little in their childhood, Sam still tried to go hard on the holidays for Nathan’s sake. Fourth of July is still Nate’s favorite holiday exclusively because of Sam’s public park-smoked ribs and the long, bumpy motorcycle ride up the highest hill in whatever city they were currently loitering in, just to see the fireworks. 

A dive bar master. Nate always orders whatever grease-covered appetizer they got in the back. Sam purposely keeps his stomach empty so there’s more room for whiskey. (Since nobody asked, incredible at pool, and will offer any woman in a twenty foot circumference a lesson. Cue the leaning chest over back, cue stick fantasy.)

A love language that was a total surprise to him is his partner cooking/baking something just for him, especially if it’s from scratch. Gets that rare, soft look in his eyes as he watches them carefully place each steaming plate onto the table. And trust, he’s not looking at the food when it happens.

Loves his partner in an apron. Like… loves his partner in an apron.

Make him food, and as soon as it’s eaten, he’s eating you after. ;)

When he finally settles down post-Madagascar, it’s a fucking struggle to get him to go grocery shopping at all for the first few months. 

Self-punishment, maybe. 

Nathan buys them himself instead and leaves them on the porch of Sam’s trailer park home when he’s too depressed to answer the door. 

Basically has to be forced to eat actual meat and vegetables. For the first few months, he reverts and eats only familiar prison food. The same single pot of chili/beans for a whole week, half portions only for each meal. Uncooked canned carrots. Microwave popcorn when Nathan calls him asking if he’s eaten, and when Sam lies, it sounds more believable with the microwave droning in the background.

However, when he finally starts to pick himself back up, when he gets his first day job since prison, finally lets Nate buy him a used truck to get around, his first solo call from Sully, that’s when he finally starts to eat.

And when he finally feels like himself again, when he finally lets himself want to live again, the first hobby that Sam Drake takes up is cooking.

[em-prentiss]

I love all your soft Sundays fics! I am currently re-reading all of them. I am in need of some fluff rn. Just them being soft and domestic is everything and really my go to fics aha. Are you planning another one hehe? Can you write a secret relationship reveal where they didn’t realize it, but they started doing some soft thing that they usually do when it’s just the two of them and they forget everyone else around them?

Aw yay, I'm so happy you love them! They're some of my absolute faves too <3 this prompt was short enough to be a blurb, so I added it to this series🫶🏼

----

intertwined, sewn together

Chapter 3

A series of unconnected fluff blurbs <3

Word count: 0.9k

----

The case files have been shoved to the edges of the conference room table, bags of takeout and carton drink holders taking their place in the middle instead. Though crime scene pictures are still hung up on the whiteboard directly in view of the hungry agents, they hardly seem to dull their appetites.

It has been six hours since they’ve eaten, after all. Six hours of pouring their brains out into a case that doesn’t want to make sense. The clock has barely hit twelve, and Emily’s sure they’re all hanging by a rapidly thinning thread.

Morgan balls up his wrapper and tosses it into the trashcan with a smooth arc just as she’s uncovering her first burger. The crinkle of paper wrappers is a welcome change from their confounded, frustrated silence, however when Reid pipes up again Emily stifles her groan into her food. 

“We said that he could be disorganized, but what if there’s more than one unsub? There were at least three different weapons and the MO was—”

“There was only one set of prints at the scene.” Rossi says tiredly. 

Emily doesn’t blame either of them; not Reid’s resilience or Rossi’s palpable exhaustion. She tries to chase away her own frustration by pressing her knee against Aaron’s thigh, methodically chewing her burger and focusing on the flavor that blooms on her tongue rather than the persistent call of the crime scene photos.

It almost works. Reid falls silent again, Aaron’s thumb rubs a quick circle on her slacks, but that’s just when the tart sourness of pickles evades her senses. Emily frowns and stops chewing, tentatively opening up her burger and stifling another groan when she finds the telltale cucumbers nestled between the buns.

Her brow pinches in annoyance. She told Morgan no pickles.

The half-chewed mouthful on her tongue grows heavy, but she bites back a shudder and swallows it down. Emily opens up her burger, her nose scrunching as she grabs a slimy pickle with the tips of her nails. In an easy, practiced move, she holds out her offering and tosses it onto Aaron’s wrapper on the table, amongst his few fries. From the corner of her eye, she sees him take it—uncaring that it’s half bitten by her teeth—lifting the edge of his bun and stuffing it inside as she drops two more on his wrapper.

Just when her burger is free of pickles, Emily notices the unusually thick silence that has fallen.

She looks up, bristling when she finds Morgan staring at her. At her and Aaron—and so is everyone else, Emily notices, the fog in her brain clearing when she realizes what she’s done. What they both have. Aaron goes still next to her, and she forces her eyes away from him and onto Morgan instead.

“I told you no pickles,” she snaps. Her voice echoes in the silence of the conference room.

Morgan raises a slow brow, making her skin itch as she crumples a tissue in her fist to soak up the pickle juice on her fingertips. “You seem to manage just fine with them.” He notes, with no apology. His eyes not so subtly fall to the rest of the pickles on Aaron’s wrapper.

Her knee slams almost violently against his. Aaron clears his throat, his tone purposely flat. “Prentiss knows I like pickles. She doesn’t, so she gives me hers,” he elaborates, unnecessarily.

Dave smiles, the stretch of his lips too smug. “And, ah, how did Prentiss come to know that about you?”

Emily huffs as an irrational heat rises to her cheeks. “Well I don’t know, it’s not like we’ve known each other for five years,” she snarks, her knee now bouncing into Aaron’s. It doesn’t help that his hand dips below the table, his fingers gently gripping her leg until it stills. “I don’t know why you’re making it a big deal—”

“Aw,” JJ drawls as she rests her chin on her fist, a new light shining in her eyes as she follows the line of Aaron’s arm, “it’s like the olive theory. Only with pickles.”

“The olive theory?” Aaron and Emily echo. Reid’s brows furrow as well.

“You hate pickles and Hotch likes them, which makes you a compatible couple. Perfectly balanced.” The corners of her lips tip up in a small smirk.

“That’s absolutely ridiculous—”

“We are not dating—”

“Give it up, kids,” Rossi interrupts, wiping his mouth with a napkin and neatly balling it up along with his empty wrapper. “I saw you,” he raises his brows at Aaron, “swapping your fries with hers.”

“He didn’t do that.” Emily says. She turns to Aaron, frowning a little. He didn’t, did he? She never saw anything. “You didn’t.”

If they were alone, the subtle pink to his cheeks would’ve made her kiss them. The tips of Aaron’s ears turn a deeper red as he sighs, quietly, the brown of his eyes meeting the brown of hers.

“Mine had more.” 

He says it more like a confession; his voice soft, his shoulders raising in a small shrug like it’s no big deal.

“Oh.” Emily replies. Softly, too, as if she’s surprised. She turns her eyes to the small pile of fries lying on his spread out wrapper, and then to her own fries still in their container. Her heart skips, her cheeks warm, and though she tries to stifle it, a smile starts tugging at her lips. 

Emily knocks her knee into his thigh again, gently. Thank you.

Aaron’s hand finds her own thigh. He squeezes quickly—you’re welcome.

She doesn’t look at him as she grabs the corner of his wrapper, dragging it—and the pickles—in front of her. Ignoring the silence and the eyes on her, Emily picks up her fries and tips half of them next to Aaron’s burger, evening their load. His intake of breath alerts her to his protest before he even speaks.

“Em—” 

“Still not dating?” Dave asks.

Emily pops a fry into her mouth. “Fuck off.”

taglist: @kllingdaddy @luhwithah @cheetobreath07 @dontemilyyyyme