#i gotta draw damn again its been way too long

[bunnys-beetlejuice-blog]

Ohhh. I have many of the knockoff OCs…

There’s Sebastian, who was originally Greystripe from Warriors (yes, Warrior cats..) in a roleplay when I was 13, that I turned into a winged cat. He then became a person with a tragic story, then a werewolf with a tragic story and a million AMVs in my head. He is sooo different from the source material now it’s insane.

The secondary main character of my book, Hunter Warren (or JC-19) is basically Connor from Detroit: Become Human but Korean and autistic and trans, and he evolved a LOT from then. Originally I wanted to mess around with the ideas of morals around androids, but then I made him a gay time traveler in love with a nonbinary cowboy. I love him so dearly.

A bunch of my dnd characters are just existing characters I tweaked into DnD to play around with. My main DnD character, Angmar, is a twist on that though, bc he based his whole personality around a character he read about in a book. He’s the only one I have art to share of currently bc he’s a catfolk.

And ofc one of the antagonists of loopjuice was originally based on Shane Madej…

NEGA SHANE that's objectively hilarious i gotta know more about warren and his partner, i love a cowboy story (who would have guessed) and its a TIME TRAVEL story??? please tell me no one dies of consumption. see I LOVE the wild way oc's evolve over the years, the further they get from the canon you borrow them from and the more they become yours, the more weird and wonderful they become. from a cat to a dude to a werewolf is such a fun transition, i adore that. do you have any art or picrews of Sebastian? please share!

Damn (short for Thou Hadst Been Damned) is my first knock off juice, retaining the supernatural best friend to a sad kid angle but with a wildly different backstory. he's half demon, half god, half ghost, all party boy. ive tried au's where he's human but hes just too weird to be a mortal lmao

[criminalamnesia]

GOD I LOVE traitor and how strong you've made the reader. It's amazing! And I eagerly await any future parts, whether it's big proper story or drabbles. BUT, you come first and your life does so you do what you gotta and go be amazing! We can wait. Proud of you X

im so late to responding, but thank you! <3

here’s part six :) also not really proofread so I apologize for any errors! I’ll fix them later!

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

you don’t know how long you’ve been sitting on the floor, cross-legged amongst broken glass, brittle flowers, and discarded clothes, when someone knocks on the door.

you don’t move, don’t say anything. the noise seems distant— too far off to be real.

besides, if someone is really knocking on your door, they know you’re in here.

and if they know you’re in here, it could be one of five people. your former squad mates, or the doctor.

the knock sounds again. it shakes you from your stupor, yet you still make no move to answer it. let them come in; let them see what they’ve made of you. of who you were. of who you could’ve been.

the person on the other side of the door is speaking now. you register the muffled baritone as it fights to be heard from the hall.

you clench your fists, then unclench them— stretching out your fingers as far as they go. clench them again. unclench. stretch. repeat.

it’s a tick— a calming habit. you don’t think it’s working at the present moment.

the doorknob turns. you still don’t move.

the door is being pushed in, light from the hallway aggressively slicing through the darkness you’d left yourself in. you fought the urge to curl in on yourself.

you’d been so consumed by your anger— are consumed by it— but coming into this room and seeing that damn note was earth-shaking. it was terrifying, and it was a tangible reminder of the team’s unapologetic tactics. simon’s unapologetic tactics.

the voice is speaking once more, clearer now that the door is out of the way— but you can’t make out the words over the ringing in your ears.

a hand gingerly lands on your shoulder, and that’s when you snap.

you whirl around, throwing yourself into the intruder like a cobra striking its prey. clearly caught off guard, the person lets loose a ‘oomph’ and falls backwards as you take out their legs.

everything is fuzzy. the ringing in your ears crescendos, and it brings pain with it. you’re striking your target with reckless abandon, still not registering who is flailing underneath you.

punches land and land and land. nails scrape and scratch and draw blood. all you see is red— all you hear is the sharpening of a knife or the whirring of a saw.

and then there are hands on you, yanking you away from your victim. the red slowly starts to recede, the ringing in your ears subsiding.

it’s only then do you release you’re screaming.

its only then do you see the swollen and bloodied face of your doctor, lying a foot away from you. she sputters a cough, blood leaving her lips and splattering onto the man leaning over her.

“you need to calm down,” a voice speaks into your ear.

“calm down, or they’ll sedate you,” it says, and you finally stop screaming. you take a breath.

clench your fists. unclench. stretch. repeat.

it takes you another minute to calm down enough to realize the person holding you is simon.

the doctor is being carried away now, and you notice it’s johnny and kyle carrying her. you notice john is standing to your left, eyes full of sympathy and guilt as he looks at you.

“get,” you huff, reaching down to slap at the arms circling your middle. “off me.”

simon releases you instantly. you don’t hesitate to put distance between the two of you. a few feet, at least. he just stands there, eyes watching with an expression you can’t place.

“what happened, love?” john’s voice is a soft rumble as he speaks. he moves a hand toward you, but decides against touching you— even if he only wanted to comfort you.

“I—” you start, glancing down at your hands. they’re bloody again.

“I thought it was—” you try again, but stop yourself.

you thought it was what? thought it was who?

you had heard man’s voice speaking to you. your mind had twisted things— had given you something you wanted to hear, deep down— because it gave you the chance to strike.

it gave you the opportunity to tear apart whichever man from the 141 had been there to check on you.

and you know you had wished it was simon.

john takes a cautious step forward at your silence. “let’s get you somewhere private, yeah? somewhere to cool down.”

the fire licking at your veins has subsided in favor of the chill of shame. of terror at what you’ve done— what you’ve done to the one person you had on your side. the person who was truly on your side.

you don’t fight this time. you give a nod, then solemnly follow him down the corridor. simon falls in behind you.

john takes you to his office, opening the door and ushering you inside. you move without protest, stepping into the dark room.

the two men enter behind you, john flicking on the light while simon pulls the door shut. you would’ve laughed at the scenario if you were in your right mind.

but you weren’t.

you weren’t okay. you knew that you weren’t, at least physically, but what you just did…

there was no way you were going to be transferred now. you doubted you would’ve even before you attacked the doctor.

you’re going to be discharged. you understand why.

but it hurts. this is your job, your life. years and years on the battlefield don’t prepare you for life off of it.

“love?”

john’s voice brings you back to the present. you realize you’ve been standing in the center of the room, unmoving and unblinking.

you feel simon’s hard gaze on your back. you want to cry.

how did things ever get this fucked up?

“im fine.” you say, not bothering to turn around. you didn’t trust yourself to keep it together if you faced them.

“you’re not,” john states, and you roll your eyes.

“im not talking about this with you,” you bite out, circling your arms around yourself. “either of you.”

“you should at least talk to someone, love— this isn’t healthy.”

“please, stop.” you tell him, but john was never good at taking orders. he gave them, not followed them.

“you hated the therapist, and you haven’t spoken to anyone else since… everything.” he continues.

“stop, john,” you try again.

“you need to let it out, love. we’re here—”

you spin around then, fists dropping to your sides. “for the love of god, john, shut the fuck up.”

that stuns him into silence, eyes slightly widened and mouth agape as he looks at you. simon doesn’t move from his position near the door.

“you are the last people i would ever fucking talk to! I don’t even want to be talking to you right now, but you won’t stop trying. trying to talk to me, trying to make it up, trying to wriggle your way back into my good graces.”

you pause, sucking in a breath. “johnny must’ve relayed the message, and that’s why you’ve back off a little— but one wrong fucking move and you’re swooping again! you aren’t my dad, you aren’t my lover, you aren’t my friend, and you’re sure as hell not my fucking captain anymore.”

“so please, john, leave me be. the four of you have done enough.”

the room is silent for a beat, then two. then three. and then simon takes a step forward, removes his balaclava, and looks you square in the face.

he doesn’t open his mouth to speak, so you take the chance to.

“don’t start with me, simon. just don’t.”

“the note,” he says. “you read it.”

you just look at him, a disbelieving scoff leaving your mouth as you give a nod. “yes, I read your fucking note. and I saw the stupid flowers, too, after seeing everything else you wrecked. tell me, how long did you wait after you tied me up to tear it all apart?”

he just watches you. you want to scream.

the note flashes back into your mind.

‘hope you can understand.’

“does it make you feel better, thinking what you did was right?” you ask him.

“I wouldn’t have done it differently.” simon tells you.

you clench your fists. unclench. stretch.

breathe in, breathe out.

“and if the roles were reversed,” you said, watching him. “if you were in my position, would you have expected me to do what you did?”

“yes.” he says, without hesitation.

“you’re unbelievable,” you huff. “is that how little I meant to you? all that time, wasted?”

“that’s not what I said.” he tells you, and you shake your head.

“no, but it’s what you meant.” anger is bubbling up again. you feel overwhelmed; shame and fury battling inside you. the ringing building up in your ears again, emerging from the background.

you can’t do this.

“what i meant is what i said.” he takes another step forward. “you’re just too damn stubborn to listen, always have been.”

“just go, simon.” you tell him. “both of you. go.”

“I wouldn’t change what I did,” he says again. “to protect my team, my family, I would do whatever it takes.”

you bite your tongue. you don’t want to keep arguing with him. he was an unmovable object— there was no way to reason with him.

“im not sorry it happened.” he speaks. “i did what i thought i had to do. what i had to do to make sure my team was safe.”

“and you should understand that, considering this team is all you have, too.”

you don’t respond— and even if you were going to, a knock on the door breaks the tense silence in the room.

johnny pops his head in, his eyes full of concern. “doc’s alrigh’.” he says, his gaze catching yours. “jus’ some bumps and bruises. she’ll be jus’ fine.”

“and she uh— said she’s not pressin’ charges or anythin’. says she still expects to see ya in a few days for your check-up.”

that’s what breaks you.

a tear slips from your eye, falling onto your cheek. another follows, then another, and you’re sobbing as you fall to the floor of price’s office.

the three men are staring, but no one makes any move to comfort you.

probably wise, considering what you did to the last person who tried.

you faintly register the click of the door as it shuts again. you don’t look up— your head in your hands as you cry.

cry about what you’ve done, what you’ve lost. mourn your career and your family and your love for the man who doesn’t regret what he did.

unbeknownst to you, simon is the only one still left in the room. his steps are silent as he approaches you— leaving only a foot of space between your bodies now.

he watches you as he sinks to the ground across from you, his long legs folded over each other, the fingers of his left hand twitching as he finds himself wanting to reach for you.

he still cares for you. his feelings for you were what made him do what he did in the first place.

the love he felt for you, twisting into betrayal and hurt and agony. fueling his actions, his desire to hear you admit your wrongdoings.

passion made people dangerous. passion in love, passion in rage. it was a fine line, and simon had crossed it.

he understood what this meant for you. recalls the conversation he had with price earlier— how laswell was planning for your discharge instead of your transfer.

this was the end of your time with them, and in the military. the hands of the 141, damaging one of their own beyond repair.

he finds himself mourning alongside you, then. mourning what was and what could’ve been.

what should have been.

“im sorry for what we did to you,” he says, but it comes out as a whisper that you don’t hear.

“im sorry.”

thank you all again for your patience! I plan on tying this little series up soon :)

as a reminder, I no longer do taglists. if you want to be notified when I post, follow @troiastitans and turn on notifications. I only reblog my works there.

I hope you all enjoyed :)

[redskull199987]

Hey, can you do more Mike Schmidt x reader? i liked a lot the last storie that you made of him ^^

Hold on to your Life by Love

Mike Schmidt x fem!reader Request

Word Count:1.5k

Warnings:some blood and injuries, but it’s canon typical violence, BIG fluff follows, Like really big fluff, Movie spoilers

Summary:After the events at the Pizza-Plex, you finally get to enjoy a slow moring together with your boyfriend…

Masterlist

It was hard to keep your eyes open. You blinked rapidly, trying to stand back up, but your body was aching. Blood trickled down your chin and onto your Shirt. With a grunt, you pressed a hand onto the wound on your side, where the damn cupcake had bitten you. You slowly looked up, your eyes focusing on Mike's unconscious body a few Meters in front of you. Abby was sitting beside him, tears in her eyes, while she tried to shake him awake. Her head shot up, as she realized that you were crawling towards them.

“Abby..”, You uttered under your breath, reaching your hand out for the little girl,”The drawings…you n-need to show them…”

With the little strength you had left, you finally reached the two of them. Abby hastily grabbed your arm, pulling you closer to her and Mike.

“You gotta show them..”, you repeated quietly. Abby gave you a firm nod before you saw her taking off to rip an old sign off of a Vending Machine. She quickly found a pencil and started drawing away. 

You eventually tore your eyes away from her, over to Vanessa. She had tried to fend off Afton as long as possible, but he had her backed against a wall. Only now you saw the knife still stuck in Vanessa’s stomach. A visible gasp left your lips, as Afton pulled it out forcefully and Vanessa fell to the ground.

A chill ran down your spine and fear struck your body, as Afton turned around, a creepy smile on his face. He looked way too happy, considering that he had just stabbed his own daughter. He was about to make his way over to you and Mike, who finally seemed to wake up again. But all your attention was caught by Abby, who seemingly finished her drawing and was about to pin it on the wall. Afton could only watch in horror how she ripped the previous picture off and pinned her own onto the wall. It showed a yellow Bunny with a knife in hand, attacking and killing the children.

A few seconds of silence arose, before the entire building started shaking, like an earthquake had struck it. The lights started flickering violently and you saw that the Animatronics all turned their heads towards Afton.

“Abby?!”, You yelled and the little girl promptly came running towards you,”Help Mike to stand up.”She quickly nodded and helped her older brother to his feet, while you snuck over to Vanessa. Ignoring your own wounds, You took hold of her arm and pulled her to her feet. You saw that she was slipping in and out of consciousness.

“Come on, Vanessa. Don’t die on me.”, You mumbled while you carried her towards the Exit, where Mike and Abby were already waiting. A few seconds later, the four of you slumped to the ground in front of the Pizza-Plex, which was completely crashing down at the moment. If you had been a few seconds slower, you would be laying under all of that rubble right now.

It took you a bit to tear your eyes away from the building. Only now, you noticed that your entire shirt and hands were soaked in blood…Vanessa’s blood.

“Mike..”, You mumbled, looking up to your boyfriend,”Please tell me that your phone is still working.”

The penetrative noise of your alarm slowly made its way into your brain, as you lazily opened your eyes. You raised a hand to quickly push some buttons on the clock, effectively shutting it up. The few seconds of silence that followed, were like music to your ears. But then, a groan next to you pulled you back into reality. You felt a shuffling under the sheets and soon enough, big warm hands wandered over your body, taking a hold of your waist and pulling you closer.

A smile spread over your face, as you felt Mike nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck, while he tangled his legs with yours.

“Hey there, sleepyhead.”, you chuckled, your hand now gently running through Mike’s hair. He only hummed in delight, choosing to spend a few more minutes in comfortable silence, just enjoying each other's presence.

“We should visit Vanessa in the Hospital today.”, You proposed, looking down at your boyfriend. Only now, he finally opened his eyes, searching for your own. When he found them, he gave you a smile and a firm nod, before leaning up to softly kiss your temple:”Sounds good.”

“Just a few more minutes..”, You mumbled, closing your eyes again. 

You tried to concentrate on Mike’s hands, holding you close. His warmth, that was invading you. You put your entire focus on him, trying not to think of what you had dreamt about. Or rather, the memories that came back to you in your dream.

The horrific night at the Pizza-Plex. Mike’s unconscious Body, Vanessa’s blood on your hands. You tried not to think about it too much, but the fact that Vanessa was still in the Hospital and hadn’t woken up yet, made you incredibly nervous. What if she didn’t wake up again? What if it was your fault? That she gave her life to save you and you could do nothing to repay her.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

The sound of Mike’s raspy voice successfully pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts and you looked back down at him. Almost immediately, a smile appeared on your lips, as you saw his face.

“Oh you know, just what we should eat for Dinner today.”, You joked,”Do you think Abby will want Spaghetti again?”

Mike chuckled upon hearing your thoughts. He slightly parted from you, propping his head up on his arm:”She probably can’t decide again.”

“Probably."...", Mike smiled. He lifted a hand to gently push a strand of hair out of your face. You followed the movement of his hand, until it rested against your cheek. Only then, you looked up into his eyes. And what you saw almost made you tear up. Mike looked at you with so much passion and adoration, it made your heart clench.

“I love you.”, he mumbled, after a few seconds of silence, where you just looked at each other.

You couldn’t help yourself, Almost instantly, after those three words left his lips, you leaned forward, kissing him passionately. The two of you tumbled over, Mike now beneath you, while you sat on top of his hips. With a mutual chuckle, the two of you parted again. Your hands now rested on top of his chest and you could feel his heart beating rapidly. 

Mike only looked at you for a second, before he gently grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand towards his lips to leave some delicate kisses on your skin.

You felt heat rising to your cheeks and you quickly looked away. But you couldn’t hide the grin on your face. It was so undeniably obvious how much you were in love with Mike. And he knew it.

“Let’s get up to make breakfast.”, Mike said with a smirk. He knew what he did to you, but he was at least kind enough to not say it out loud.

You nodded at his proposal and slowly lifted yourself from him, but before you could react, Mike grabbed your other hand, pushing you down on the bed, so that your roles were reversed now, with him on top of you. 

“Got you”, Mike grinned, pinning your hands down on the sheets above you. You only gave him a playful huff, trying to free yourself, but his legs on either side of your hips didn’t leave any room for moving around.

“You know, there is a way to free yourself.”, Mike said, not able to hide the grin on his lips.

“And what would that be?”, You asked, faking to be not interested.

Mike quickly leaned down, whispering into your ear:”A kiss.”

A shiver ran down your spine, as he looked at you again. His eyes moved to your lips and he gave you a questioning look, like he was asking for permission. You nodded, almost unnoticeable. But Mike did in fact, notice it and it didn’t take him very long to connect your lips in a tender kiss. This one was different. It was oozing with emotions and both of you poured everything that you had into it.

When you parted a few moments later, the two of you were panting against each other's lips, enjoying the aftereffects of the kiss.

“Let’s get up now, hm?”, You mumbled, gently stroking Mike’s cheek to pull him out of his haze. He gave you a small nod and slowly stood up, pulling you along with him.

“Do you think Abby is awake already?”, You asked curiously, while the two of you started to get dressed.

Mike only chuckled at your question:”I’m betting on it.”

“Sure.”, You smirked,”Whoever loses, has to buy dinner.”

“Deal”, Mike smiled.

Secretly, you knew that you would lose. But it made your heart bloom with joy, when you saw the expression on Mike’s face when he realized he won. You’d pay a million meals, if it meant you could keep seeing his smile.

[iplayghoul]

i know im supposed to finish that ghost fic, but i kept thinking ab piss kink wit onyankopon. stay wit me now!

ony's the typa nigga to not have a thing for feet at awwl, but will suck on ur pretty toes when he sees u got them done, just bc its youu

so the piss kink conversation was nothing in depth really! but it starts off spending the day at the mall wit him, you had water with breakfast, grabbed a caramel frapp as you started your shopping adventures with him and got some sprite wit your lunch that almost killed u !!

its nnottt long at all b4 u gotta get to the bathroom :3 the first time u ask ur like "ony can u hold my bags for me, i gotta go pee real quick babe." and its a simple question really, ur handing ur bags over to him already but he doesnt take them, he just says "nah, lets go," and suddenly youre... a bit shellshocked lmfao. but he has you walking into the next store like nothing happened.

within another hour, your feet hurt and youre ready to gtfo this damn mall :( and ur bladder is holdin on by a thread too ! ur bouncin on the balls of ur feet and bouncing your legs restlessly as you hold ur pee, literally throbbing from the sensitivity 😭😭

so u ask him again, "ony bae, i really needa go piss, come on." this time he stops n looks u in the eyes, rubbing your arms calmingly and says, "you can hold it, can't you mama? you're a big girl u can do that f'me. cant you?" ur eyes are glossed overrr the ache is honestly unbearable so within the next 20 minutes yall are finally getting home.

when u guys get back to ur apartment, ur rushinnn to ur bathroom so quick, but ony grabs you by the arm, lightly pushing u to just sit on the bed and u bounce restlessly on the bed, ur piss just on the edgeee ready to come out >>:( u cant help but mumble questions at him, getting irritated but he remains calm and only smiles, drawing his fingers between ur legs to put pressure on ur clit. he rubs hard circles on you and now youre torn between focusing on the stimulation to your clit and trying not to piss all over him and the bed.

he's soo sneaky and skillful honestly, he's holding you down with one arm while the other is working you hard and slow, letting your clit harden and puff out below his thumb and his eyes are glued to yours, except all you can do is stare at his thumb's work. as if that would help u stop yourself from peeing :/

i like 2 think that ony is quite mean, but hes so soft and casual about it, he gets away with it so easy. because its only a matter if time before he has two long fingers in your pussy, together with his thumb on your clit and now you're gripping that arm so bad 😭 eyes teary and can never be drawn away from observing his hands on you.

its sinister honestly the way he so slowly strokes your g-spot with his clean cut and trimmed nails. and then he's getting on his knees... everything speeds up and suddely your tapping his arm quick, panicked telling him to stop before you cum. n squirt all over him. his eyes remain trained on yours, revelling in the way your eyes frantically move from his to his fingers and back to his😭😭😭 "mmm, u cant handle dat?" he mumbles, onya's so mean to u >_< you're speechless honestly, this day didnt go how you expected it.

but, ur dripping down his palm, tears mimicing it the same way on your cheeks and then youre cuming hot and heavy . u swear warmth washes over your entire body and your thighs squeeze around his hand and ony's fingers never fuckin stop . orgasming so damn hard your tummy started to cramp up and ur legs stiffened up baaad in that position. "let it go baby, c'mon mama. been such a good girl f'me."

and jus like that, u let go, piss n squirt, whatever the fuck it is spraying in a hot, relieving stream onto his face just like he wanted, he gives ur lower lips a few kisses n licks :<< then going slack jawed, cupping ur cunt wit his mouth while u spasm and moan above him. lettin u full his mouth up real good :)

[duckyfruitbat]

YoHoHo, It's a New Era of Pirating

I'm sure a lot of us have been ruminating on this lately, but first I want to draw some parallels.

Picture it, the year is 2005 and you are watching a movie you picked out with your grandma at blockbuster during your weekend visit to give your parents a god damned break from your bullshit. Relatable so far yes? You pop that disk in and sit down as grandma makes the popcorn and an odd little PSA comes up between the previews. It's the infamous pirating PSA that compares downloading films to car jacking. So what do you do? You download copious amounts of pirated music onto the computer under your fathers supervision of course, still pretty relatable right?

You have entered the world of media piracy my friend, an old tradition with a rich culture and history. The early 2000's were some wild times, piracy was at its peak, the internet was a lawless land, and the 2008 housing bubble was just around the corner, truly a glorious time.

Now needless to say, publishing companies hated piracy and were desperately trying to curb it but only through legislation through a government that didn't really care. It was already hard enough to catch one pirate so why waste resources to crack down on it. There was an attempted crackdown by the publishers but that completely failed, one infamous case was a grandma who didn't even have a computer.

This age of piracy was only stopped when Itunes and Netflix made their way online. That was only because everything was on these two websites and later also Hulu. The only people who continued to pirate were kids who didn't have money and anime fans. There were two specialized websites just for them.

Everything was going smoothly, until we get to today, now every studio has at least one streaming service and even then there is no guarantee that their own shows would even be up and they're all owned by the same five corporations. Discovery got in trouble not too long ago for deleting their own shows from their own streaming service. Disney still has a backlog to upload onto Disney+, and there are many exclusives between each site. It's very similar to what cable and satellite television was, gotta pay over a hundred dollars and you don't even watch half the channels. These streaming services are getting too specialized, sure it makes business sense especially when you already have a large library or you're just Disney, but when there are obscure TV channels trying to get their own service, you know something's wrong.

Somehow the music industry didn't go the same path, yes Spotify has its problems, especially for musicians, but it is far better than purchasing entire albums or the old piracy methods that always put your computer at risk.

The obvious consequence of all this is that piracy is once again going up once again. Why? Because it is far easier to pirate than it is to figure out which steaming service that Disney owned show you want to watch is on. The only reason Itunes and Netflix originally won was because it was more convenient to actually pay for the things you wanted to see and not have to worry about malware. That's a lesson that these corporations could benefit from again, but they are if anything stubborn.

Now because of the stubbornness of these corporations I will have a lot to talk about, specifically with all sorts of pirating methods, and some fun stories. I already talked about Tengen and their massive swinging balls of steel as they walked into the patent office to steal from Nintendo, but there is so much more. So plenty of legally dubious fun to be had!

[zackariahgaspar]

your art is so pretty and attractive congrats on the beautiful practice!

not sure what you mean by practice but ty a lot for the kind words more people should do that yknow im so busy with life cant do shit rn sad af no draw no c ool spots to take pictures i find mfs like u really interesting gang im not even gonna lie this like a personal thing for me you get what im sayign like a whole vide u feel me whats crazy is like you dont just go around into everyones page and leave a cool little message like that do you like you saw my art and went to it not gonna even lie gang thats aplomb fr straight up funky and awesomesauce snazzy in a spiffy way with crumb on top apple pie style typa way ong whats up with the practice comment tho no idea tf that supose to mean fr cant sweat it tho sure thats like a nice thing ivse supose to get but dindt sorry frrr🙏🙏🙏whats really crazy is that you realy just wrote me a whole targeted compliment i dont get those irl you get me like i apreciatee you fr didnt think you hungrry like that gang find youself something to eat likego open the frige or smth this aint a fridge this is the internet you know what im saying this shit taste insane tho shit wild seafood pasta uk what im on this shit actualy market price u feel me its liek a whole personal vibe uknow you seen any tarkovsky movies tho shits insane gotta watch those gang ive been to a mental institution not too long ago no internet there ufeel me fam brought haruki murakami books and he ate fr good ass books you ever read on some gravity's rainbow that shit insane tho i liked it like damn who writes like that ever watch some akira kurosawa gotta get on that snipe tf i bought minecraft for tho i aint got nobody to play with fuckyoumean?? anywho tf im on thank you for realsies some thing in the woods i aint step a foot in there tho only for mushroom season probs whatevs like thanks again sib

[quijabored]

SPOILERS FOR UP TO EP6 S5 OF BUNGO STRAY DOGS

HERE WE ARE AGAIN

It's been far too long for not watching BSD, but in my defense I've been playing bungo tales, drawing more bsd, (Dazai doodles will hopefully be up soon? If theyre not theyll be up tommorow) and I've also been in the midst if reading and writing for a book I'm working on.

So long story short, I haven't had much time to watch it, BUT IM BACK

AND DEAR GODS DO I HAVE TO SAY THINGS

FIRST OFF, *AKUTAGAWA*

FIGURED OUT WHERE THE NECK SLASH PANNEL CAME FROM, *BUT WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE LIKE THIS*

MY SON, MY BABY, MY WILL TO LIVE, WHY THE FUCK DID YOU GET HURTTTTT

HES NOT DEAD THOUGH I DONT THINK

THEY HAD ME IN THE FIRST HALF BUT THEN THE VAMPIRISM SHIT STARTED HAPPENING AND I WAS LIKE "OH THANK GOD"

If he does die I'm actually gonna start sobbing

I kid you not I went outside of my room and was like "HES- HES NOT DEAD. I KNOW THIS BECAUSE- UH-"

While like on the verge of tears

IT WAS SUPER FUN THOUGH

STILL A FUCK YOU FUKUCHI

HATE THAT GUY FR, I GOT SO EXCITED WHEN THEY FINALLY GOT THE PAGE BUT I KNEW IT WASNT OVER JUST YET BECAUSE THE ABRUPT ENDING WAS TOO ODD AND I LOVE CALLING THINGS IN SHOWS BUT NOT LIKE THIS MAN

ALSO AKUTAGAWA BACKSTORY KINDA????

HIS YOUNGER SELF LOOKS SO DEAD INSIDE PLEASE I WANT TO PAT HIS HEAD :((((

He would kill me if I got too close BUT SHHH

AND THEN BRAM????

I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM

HES SO SILLY LIKE AAAAAA

IM GONNA GET TO HIM IN A MINUTE BUT I GOTTA TALK ABOUT TACHIHARA AND JOUNO FIRST

FIRST TACHIHARA

I KNEW HE WAS GONNA LOSE THE FIGHT AGAINST FUKUCHI, BUT GOD DAMN IT DID HE HAVE TO USE HIS STUPID TIME SWORD???

I HATE THE TIME SWORD SO MUCH IM GONNA MOP THE FLOOR WITH FUKUCHIS BLOOD

OH OH ALSO ALSO

TECCHOU AND JOUNO ARE *NOT* STRAIGHT BRO LIKE AINT NO WAY

I TOOK A SCREENSHOT FOR IT, THE LINE WAS, I KID YOU NOT, "Stop jabbing me in the ass!"

*MY MOTHER WALKED IN WHEN IT WAS PLAYING*

Most horrifying experience I've ever had, she just slowly walked away

ALSO THE FACT THAT JOUNO WAS LIKE "Wait till the other guys and Tecchou hear about this!"

Like why didn't you lump them together 🤨 kinda fruity if you ask me 🤨🤨🤨

I'm delusional

OH AND JOUNO BEING LIKE "You made the mistake of showing me how to care for the life of others"

LIKE AAAAAA???? I LOVE MY SON

ALSO HIS ABILITYS COOL ASF

And then Akutagawa bit him

SPEAKING OF AKU

I WAS STARVED FOR LIKE THE ENTIRE SEASON BEFORE I SAW HIM AGAIN, *AND THEN HE GETS ALMOST KILLED??? HELLO?????*

Seeing him w/o his coat was super fun though, I can finally figure out how his shirt looks for my artings

Makes me really sad how he sees everything as a test for Dazais approval though :(

Knowing he's gonna die due to a lung disease hurts, like I knew he was sick and stuff but still :(

WHEN THEY WERE LIKE "Im gonna kill you Atsushi! RAAAHHH!!!" AND THEY STARTED RUNNING AT EACHOTHER I WAS LIKE OH FUCK YEAH THEYRE GONNA TRICK HIM

And then Fukuchi went back in time.

ALSO TACHIHARA BEING LIKE RAAAAHHH IM A PORT MAFIA MEMBER NOW RAAHHHH LIKE I LOVE HIM

AND AND AND NOW FOR MY FAVORITE SEGMENT

BRAM AND AYA!!!

THEYRE SO SILLY OH MY GOSH I LOVE THEM

Imagine putting your pink children earbuds into a Gothic Victorian man's earlobe, ant other person from that time would've called it witchcraft

THE WHOLE RADIO THING I LOVE IT

"Im trying to sleep." LIKE ANY TIME HIS COFFINS OPEN I LOVE HIM

I just have to hope nothing bad happens cuz everyone's like on the brink of death right now

KUNIKIDAS NOT GONNA DIE, I KNOW THAT FOR A FACT (If I turn out wrong by the time the series ends Im crying)

I love how hes yapping about old stories and how he's super strong and then Ayas just like "The huh??"

I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

OH ALSO

WHEN JOUNO WAS IN THE MEETING WITH EVERYONE AND HE STOPPED BEFORE FUKUCHI LEFT THE ROOM I WAS LIKE "HAHAHA ITS OVER FOR YOUUUU"

AND WHEN HE TRIED TO PLAY DUMB I WAS LIKE HUH??? AND RHEN HE WAS LIKE "I knew before this, Fukuchi." AND I WAS LIKE CALLED IT

I love bsd I love bsd I love bsd I love bsd I-

TERUKOS SO SILLY I LOVE HER SO MUCH

ALSO RANPO AND POE ARE SO SILLY LIKE YOURE TELLING ME POE WROTE A BOOK FOR RANPO AND THE AGENCY TO HAVE A MEETING IN JUST BECAUSE HE ASKED??? I LOVE THEM

THERE HASNT BEEN MUCH TECCHOU CONTENT BUT WAAA WAAAA WAAAAA I LOVE HIMMMMM

HES SO SILLY AND ADORBS

Not as much of an adorbie worbie as Akutagawa tho, no one can top my son

Love Mori when hes not being a creep, I still hate him but his character interests me to say the least and Ill analyze him further eventually.

OH

I THOUGHT I WAS ALMOST DONE BUT NO

DAZAI AND FYODOR ARE FUCKING INSANE

I love both of them.

POOR SIGMA BRO HES WATCHING THEM WILLINGLY PUT POISON INTO THEIR BODYS???

IS DAZAI GONNA LIKE USE HIS HEARTBEAT SHIT TO SLOW DOWN THE THING OR IS NIKOLAI GONNA BE LIKE "Yeah Im gonna help you because I want my bestie to die :3"

NIKOLAI CALLING FYODOR BESTIE IS WHAT GIVES ME LIFE I LOVE THEM

I didn't see a chess board when Dazai and Fyodor were in their weird bubble cells, but Fyodor called Dazai his chess buddy, so I'm 90% sure they just kinda...

"I move my rook to E5."

"You dont think I saw that coming? Knight E5."

"Hm, whatever. I already planned this out anyways. Queen, E5"

"Hah, youre only just starting to fall into my traps. Ill play the waiting game. Pawn, D3"

BUT LIKE IN THEIR HEADS

HELLO???? THEY??? HOW???

I love playing chess sm though, very fun game would reccomend

I play chess with my therapist actually :3

It's really neat, live laugh my therapist bro

I THINK THATS IT BUT IF I REMEMBER ANYTHING ELSE ILL SAY IT LATER!!

LIVE LAUGH ASAGIRI BRO

[blueempty]

As promised, the pics from yesterday

Star ocean First Departure R got a bitch layed up at night with 17 gamefaqs guides open goin ooooh so thats item creation

All i've done today was play Star Ocean because LAST NIGHT you see, what occured was, the lady at work who's mind is an enigma to me, started THREE tests that take forever, even though she knew she wouldnt have time to finish them, and then she left and I happened to have slept bad and I got in at 5pm. Then when I started filtering the second set of thingies the fuckin adhesive from the bandaids was gumming up the filters so they wouldnt filter and I was there for 10 hours. So thats why I didnt post pics yesterday. But it worked out cuz I didnt go outside today

Star Ocean is super good and its nebulous and confusing in a way I really like. I dont own Second Story yet even though that one is why I started playing the first one, but i may start a second run of the first game right after I finish it cuz its the kind of game where theres like 13 characters but you can only have 8 for the whole game and some of them conflict with others. So right at the start when I accepted Cyuss into my party I was instantly locked out of 3 other characters and two of them I really wanted. So the other characters and new dialogue has me wanting to play again, and also the fact that I understand how everything works now, so I can make my characters fucked up and busted earlier on and not waste so many resources

Ive been kinda listless, I think thats the word? I feel like a ghost haunting my apartment and workplace and I've been having a hard time deciding what to do with my free time. I think its cuz I havent had more than a one day weekend in like a month. But I got a normal weekend right now and then I'm gonna take thursday off for big food shopping and also valentines day so hopefully I'll be better soon. Last month I had a burst of productivity and then crashed really hard. I'm trying to keep up with drawing and kana though. Ive been doing quizes on my japanese app and the last like, 8 hiragana are kickin my ass but I'm doing pretty good otherwise. I gotta get back to Fairune 1 speed running too, someone just posted a 37 minute in game time run and I was like damn!!! I wanna do that

Peace and Long Life

[companionwolf]

Paper Crowns

Central only remembers the Commander’s tendency for strangely theatric retelling of Jewish stories once they’re up on the bar, wearing a cape made of their bedsheet and a paper crown.

Judging from the shaky steps and ruddy face, they’re at least a little drunk. Definitely tipsy, Central thinks, tugging at the collar of his sweater. He weaves his way through the throng of chattering crew, finding a spot at the end of the bar to look up at the Commander and shake his head.

“Get down from there,” he says, “you’ll fall.”

“Fuck you, it’s Purim,” they answer, before ungracefully tripping over their cape and falling with a crash behind the bar; Central sighs at the sound of glass breaking and swearing.

Their head pops up over the edge, hair and face slick and dripping with liquid from broken bottles and blood. “It’s all good! All’s well! I’m fine!”

“There’s blood all over your face,” Central says. “I think you gave yourself a nose bleed.” And slashed a cut across your forehead, he thinks, eyeing the wound.

“I said I’m fine!” they say louder, as they wipe their face with their hands, fingers flickering purple as they brush them against the forehead cut. They pat at their head, find its bare, and then drop back down again, reappearing once more with their now slightly crushed and dampened crown.

“Gotta be...in character...or something,” the Commander manages to mutter to him while clambering back up onto the bar.

“Hey everybody!” they yell.

The throng’s chatter dials down a tick; Mox, Outrider, and Kelly standing near the dart board, stop in their discussion and look toward the bar. Central sees the Skirmisher say something that makes the two laugh as they take in the Commander.

“Y’all remember storytime back in December?” the Commander asks the crowd as they open a beer; murmurs of “Yeah” and “is this the spring one?” reply.

They go on, prancing back and forth across the bar top. “We’re doing it again, but this time it’s a one person theater performance!” They pause. “Technically it’s called a spiel, because Jews love fancy words. I dunno guys, it’s just always been called a spiel and I ain’t stopping now. Anyway, here we fucking go!”

They pantomime drawing back a curtain with their free hand, sashaying to the center of the bar.

“The setting is Ancient Persia, in the city of Shushuan. That’s Sector...uh, well it’s definitely a sector. Middle Eastern area. Anyway, Persia has this king. He’s got this name that practically no one can pronounce or write properly— Ashashearetz? Ahasearus? Ashehaha? Something starting with A.”

They shrug.

“So, King Asparagus has this feast. It’s a long event, multiple days. And on the last day he’s drunk as shit and goes ‘Queen, get naked for us! show off for us!’ And the Queen, name’s Vashti, understandably goes ‘Fuck no’ which me too. Who wants to get undressed for a bunch of weird drunk guys?”

A shudder runs through them; a few of the girls shout agreement, Kelly yelling from her place on Outrider's lap “Stick it to the man, Vashti!’

“Damn right,” the Commander says. “Course, this is a king who is also very drunk, so he’s pissed as hell she’s not obeying, and in a rage sends her away. Some texts interpret this as she’s killed for her action but since I’m an optimist we’re saying she’s just kicked out. The servants of the king go ‘well shit we can’t have no Queen’ to which Asphalt answers, ‘We're gonna have a pageant! All the girls of the land shall come to the palace and I will choose a new wife from them!’ And so that event was set up, because king says it, you better do it, unless you’re Vashti and are kind are fucking badass.”

“Where’s the Jewish people?” calls someone.

“We’re getting there,” they answer. “So there’s this guy named Mordecai, who also has a name no one can agree on a spelling for. Mordecai is the adopted dad of his orphan niece Ester, who like all the girls, goes to the pageant to be judged."

“Now there’s this guy named Haman—“ The Commander cuts themselves off, snarls. “Sorry, it’s tradition. Make noise when I say the fucker’s name, ok? Scream, stamp your feet, whatever, just drown it out. Let’s practice: Haman—!”

A cacophony answers, hooting and hollering. Someone does a Wilhelm scream, another person starts rapping. The Commander nods, looking thoughtful.

"A little unconventional, since we don't have the little spinny noise makers but you all seem like you get the concept well enough to compensate," they say. "So remember -- everytime I say that name, just … freak the fuck out. Cool? Cool. Let's move on."

The Commander readjust their crown, and then with their free hand and a Psionic wave, pulls something from behind the bar. It's a crocheted three pointed hat-- they throw it out to the crew.

"That," they say, "is the hat of our antagonist, Haman." They pause to let the jeering die down. "Now this motherfucker is the councilor of the king. What is a councilor? I don't actually know, but I think it's analogous to whatever me and Central have going on.

"So they're gay," says Kelly.

The Commander flushes red. "Demoted to rookie!" they bark, but they're laughing too. "In any case that would definitely add a dimension to this story that rabbis…probably have argued about honestly but no, they're not gay as far as I know and remember, just stupid on the king's part and evil on Haman's."

Another phase for the noise, and then they continue. "So evil not-Central, because my second is good and lovely and also Jewish, is able to kind of do whatever he wants, because Persia's government is kind of not sensible in the slightest. so he goes 'everyone must bow to me when I go by, because fuck you' and makes it a law."

"So the Jewish people do not follow this man's law?" says Mox.

The Commander points a finger gun at him with their free hand. "Yes! Specifically Mordecai, because he is also smug and a motherfucker but considerably less powerful. Anyway, we love Mordecai. Haman…does not and he's pissed, naturally."

"And they fistfight," says Kelly.

"God I wish," the Commander says, tipping their beer toward her. "No, instead we shift away from evil hat man to Mordecai proper, because our good Jewish boy has overhead some fuckery from the palace guards. It goes a little bit like "killing the king is my plan for Monday.' 'OH shit ME TOO lets do it together <3'."

Someone shouts, "How the HELL did you make a heart with your voice?"

The Commander shrugs, takes a long swig off their drink. "Psions can do weird shit," they say. "Can I keep going?" Central nods at them from his place at the end of the bar.

"So Mordecai goes and tells the king that maybe he should deal with that, and he does, and all's well," the Commander continues. "So well, in fact, that the king goes to Haman and asks 'what would you do for someone so amazing and good and nice that you just have to honor them?' And Haman, who's internally like HAHA ITS FOR ME, answers 'money, fancy shit, and let the entire kingdom know of my I mean their greatness.' The king nods. 'Go," he says, 'do that for my man Mordecai."

The Commander pauses, grinning. "Haman pissed off 2 times combo. So much that he starts plotting. And this scares the shit out of Mordecai, but CUT JUMP ITS PAGEANT TIME."

To emphasize their words, the Commander jumps along the bar, misses their mark, falls off again. Central sighs into his hands as they clamber back up, brushing off more shattered glass and alcohol.

"Are you…okay?" asks Outrider.

"...Yes," the Commander says.

"You hesitated!" Kelly says.

"I'm very well," they say. "Superb."

"Maybe someone should…take that drink from you," says another soldier. The Commander shakes their head.

"I am allowed one drunk day a year and that day is called Purim," they say. "I'm good. It's all good. Let's see what's happening at the pageant."

They draw their cape around them like a dress. "So, Esther. Everyone remembers me mentioning her? Niece of Mordecai? Thing about Ester is she’s the hottest and baddest girl in town, so naturally the king picks her at the pageant. And off she goes, becoming queen and chilling in the palace, with one caveat— she’s Jewish as hell and nobody knows, save her uncle."

"I see where this is going," someone calls.

"Do you? Great, don't spoil it," says the Commander. "Meanwhile, Haman. Finishes his plotting. Plot result: KILL THE JEWS. Very original, say the Jews at this. Super good job, dude. Definitely not something we've dealt with."

The Commander waves their drink around. "Esther convenes with her uncle, who lets her know about Haman's plot and basically does to her what our pal the Spokesman did to me ala 'save our world' except the world here is literally every Jew."

"What are you on about?" someone asks. "Who's the Spokesman?"

"He used to be on the council who helped determine XCOM's funding," the Commander explains. "Everyone else started sucking alien dick except him so now he's a, uhh… he's a friend. A friend of ours. With inside benefits of sorts. We love him."

"Wow, I thought you were loyal to Central," says Kelly, grinning.

"Demoted to whatever is below rookie," they say. "I am not banging the Spokesman. What the hell, Kelly."

"If you are, we need to have a talk," Central says.

"I promise you I'm not, sweet Central," they say, sliding over to his end of the bar and tussling his hair.

"You two are so fucking weird," says someone. "Save it for the bedroom."

"Can we get back to the story?" says another.

"Yes we can, thank you," the Commander says, straightening back up and returning to the center of the bar. "So Mordecai drops this on Esther, who goes 'well damn' and starts Operation: Save the Jews. What does this include? Step one: extravagant banquet. Step two: fuck."

The crew exchanges looks. "Esther and the king?" akss someone. "Or uh…"

"Esther and her husband, yes, and once they've had food and fun times Esther goes oh lovely husband can I ask a favor? He goes of course. And she goes you'll protect me from anyone who wants to kill me, right? And he's like sure yeah okay. And she's like cool, another banquet tomorrow too. Be there. And he is."

The Commander pauses to take a breath. Mox is talking quietly to Outrider and Kelly, who are throwing small glances over to them. They arch an eyebrow. "What? What is it?"

"Are you sure you're not just making shit up again? To inspire us?"

"If you're inspired, great," the Commander says. "If not, that's also great. I'm just…" Their shoulders slacken a little, and they go from pompous tipsy performer to deeply sad and visibly drunk faster than Central has ever seen. "Trying to keep it alive. The stories, I mean."

They fumble for a new drink, take a long sip. "Anyway, at this new banquet, Haman's there too-- Esther actually invited him. And the king's like oh shit not what I expected but something i can work with."

"They fuck again?" guesses a rookie.

"I guess the king is thinking that, yeah but no, they're just eating and drinking and such," the Commander says with a shrug. So Esther goes 'so what if I told you I knew someone who does want to kill me? 'Well, they'd be dead,' says the king. 'Great, what if I said it was this dude?' Esther continues and points at Haman. Oh shit, Haman. Oh shit, says Esther, entirely different cadence and tone and everything."

"Oh shit seems like the least amount of exclamation," says Mox.

"There's probably a lot more than just that expletive, you're right," they say.

"Fuck," Mox says confidently.

"Absolutely," the Commander replies, nodding. "Okay, so. Esther reveals she's a Jew. Haman goes FUCK. The king goes TO THE GALLOWS WITH YOU which Haman was actually building for hanging Mordecai on so you know. Irony."

"You're telling it wrong," says someone from the crowd.

The Commander frowns.

"I don't remember my hometown's name, you think I can remember details of a holiday I missed 20 years of?" they ask.

"Sorry," comes the reply.

"It's chill," says the Commander, "my hometown sucked anyway. What am I missing?"

"It was for everyone," the soldier says. "Not just Mordecai."

"Ah," says the Commander. "That's… wildly inefficient."

"You sound like the Hunter," says Kelly, frowning.

The Commander blinks. "Horrific, thanks for informing me," they say.

"So they hung the hat man?" says someone. The Commander nods.

"And we have these little hat shaped cookies now, that we eat on Purim… good God I miss those a lot."

"We could make some," says Central. "I made cupcakes before, I can find the ingredients for that."

"Central I WILL kiss you if you make hamantaschen with me," they say.

"You'd kiss him anyway!" yells Kelly.

"Demoted!"

"I'm already at the bottom!" she answers. "Beyond it, even. You have no power over me anymore!"

The Commander rolls their eyes but they're grinning. "So back to the story, just for a second because we're at the end -- guess who the king makes councilor instead?"

"Mordecai?"

"Mox, you get a gold star, you're an excellent audience member," the Commander says. "Yes, Mordecai."

They give the crew a warm look. "So yeah," they say. "On Purim we dress in costumes, get drunk, and revel in the fact that those bastards haven't managed to kill us yet."

The Commander raises their newest beer to the ceiling. "A toast to us too, XCOM -- we're not dead yet either."

The crew toasts them back, and then the bar fills again with chatter and noise. The Commander slides off the bar and stumbles to the couch in the corner, dropping heavy onto the cushions.

Central approaches with water, gently pushing their crown back from falling off their head as he sits next to them. "You okay?" he asks.

"I had too much," they say, hiccuping around the water.

Central shakes his head at them, but his eyes are soft. "I liked your spiel," he says. "Never seen somebody do one all by themselves."

"I think I'll ask for help next time," they say, leaning against him. "It's more fun when it's more like a play."

"Mmm," he answers, wrapping an arm around them. "Next year, then."

"You think we'll still be fighting?"

Central hesitates. "I wouldn't put money on it in either case," he says.

The Commander closes their eyes. "It would be nice," they say with a sigh. "But yeah, let's not bet on it. Let's just… hope. Hope's good."

"Hope's good," Central repeats.

And he thinks, that at this moment, he really does believe it.

[crikeygatormate]

Tied Down (Part One)

Cowboy!Bakugou x AFAB Reader

Summary: You've been trying to become number one for so long, but just when you thought you would become a Champion Reiner, Bakugou Katsuki steals the spot from beneath your nose and becomes your number one rival. While on your way back to the top you find out there's more to Bakugou than meets the eye.

Hi friends, back again with Cowboy!Bakugou! I'm pretty excited about this one :) It's got some good tropes rivals to lovers, sort of a love triangle, and some good old drama and spice lmao I'm not sure how long this will be, but I guess around six or seven parts! This first part is a little short, just to get the ball rolling lol think its about 5k?

Warnings: Alcohol, mentions of an accident, someone becoming paralyzed, dub-con, only a little bit of grinding lmao kind of a love triangle

Part Two! Part Three!

Part One

There was something brewing in the air the night you saw him. The wind had stilled, the air grew thick with moisture, and the smell of rain tickled your nose. Tension was high and you could feel it and the horses could too. 

That night was an important one, probably the most important one of your career. It practically determined if you would be able to keep your family's ranch or not. You were in the final champion show for reining horses and the pool of riders was small, just you and about twenty others. Apparently, you were expected to win, at least so you thought.

That all changed when he showed up on his big blue roan stallion and you instantly knew that you had lost. He got a perfect score and a standing ovation from the crowd, that night his horse had become the number one reining horse in the whole country. 

You ended up having to pull out before you ran, his horse had kicked yours in the knee, hard, on the way out of the arena in a scuffle you thought had to be fate. Both stallions never even acknowledge each other until you locked your gaze with his. He didn’t even apologize, all he did was turn his nose up at you and told you to “get a better hold on that damn stud, its a fuckin’ wonder you even made it this far.”

Those words lit a fire under you that would burn hot and bright for three years and for three years you worked hard to climb back up to the top of the ranks, and along the way you would never forget the face of Bakugou Katsuki, the man that took everything away from you.

------------------------------ Three Years Later—------------------

His face was everywhere you turned and so was that fucking blue roan. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped the magazine in your hands, staring into the red gaze of Bakugou Katsuki.

“If you keep glarin’ at that magazine any longer it’s gonna catch on fire,” Toshinori’s deep voice sounded from next to you.

You sighed, drawing your gaze away from your number one rival, well at least in your mind he was your number one rival. “I know,” you answered with a sigh, “it’s just why does everyone kiss the ground this guy walks on? He’s not that great.”

“He’s number one,” Toshinori answered loosely.

“Well I’m gonna be number one too,” you seethed, “just wait, this year it’s gonna change.”

Toshinori looked at you, his expression was soft, yet it held mild concern. He had always looked out for you, being your father’s best friend and all. Once your father passed away, and you lost the ranch, he stepped up and tried to make sure you would fill your dad’s boots, but it proved to be harder than he thought. You had the potential for sure, but you were hot-headed and stubborn.

“Stop lookin’ at me like that, Toshi,” you sighed as the announcer told the crowd that the competition was about to start.

Toshinori sighed as he ran a hand through his straw colored hair, “I know, but kid, you’ve gotta cool off, that horse of yours gets too riled up when you do and you mess up. Both of you can’t be too hot out there or you’ll keep gettin’ second.”

“I know that,” you said through gritted teeth as your gaze cut to your stallion. He had gotten older, probably older than most stallions in the show, but he was your pride and joy, a big dunskin with four white socks. He was a good horse, mean as hell when he needs to be, which you liked, that meant he was smart. 

However, you did acknowledge you both were too hot in the arena. Too insync with each other needs to go, to be number one. So you nodded and sighed, letting your shoulders relax as you reined in your anger. 

Today you would be calm. Nothing could even go wrong really, this was just a qualifying bracket and an early one too. Your horse was way too good to not get first right now. If you won this bracket you’d move up and then you’d be three shows away from competing with Bakugou. 

“Go get on, you’re about to run,” Toshinori’s voice cut into your thoughts.

You glanced up at your uncle and nodded, deciding to keep quiet as you got on your horse and made your way into the arena. You were the first one to go. The crowd was sparse, but that didn’t matter to you, you weren’t there to impress, like a certain someone you knew. 

The announcer called your name and number and you set off, going through your course pretty smoothly until you came to your last sliding stop. As your horse slid across the arena dirt you suddenly locked eyes with the last person you were expecting to see at your show.

Bakugou.

In fact, he was sitting right next to Toshinori, listening as your uncle rambled about something, but he was watching you. He had his legs crossed at the knee, showing off his fancy new boots that you could tell cost him a pretty penny. 

You narrowed your eyes and backed your horse up before patting the side of his neck. He was breathing hard, and so were you. The fire inside of your belly got hot with anger as your rival lifted his lips up into a smirk. 

You turned your horse away from him and made your way out of the arena and back towards your trailer and truck that were parked. Some voices sounded from behind you and you didn’t even bother to look back, you knew whose voice that was. That deep timbre accented with a country twang that had all your girlfriends raging. 

With a disgruntled sigh you stopped your horse and got off, still keeping to yourself as you led him up to where his halter was tied at the trailer. 

“Did good out there, kid,” Toshinori said as he patted your horse's bum, “Cowboy is easily gonna take the win on this one.”

“Didn’t keep your hands soft though,” Bakugou quickly added in before you could say your thanks to your uncle.

“Don’t talk to me about soft hands,” you hissed as you took off your horse's bridle and placed his halter back on, roughly tying the rope by the side of his cheek while he started to grab at his hay net. 

“Bakugou does have soft hands, darlin’,” Toshinori gently said. Even though he knew you hated Bakugou’s guts, he also knew that he’d be a great teacher to you. Teach you patience and how to cool off, something he had to teach Bakugou himself. Granted he had to admit your temper was much more fiery than the blond next to him.

You clenched your jaw, muttering something venomous under your breath as you undid the girth of your saddle.

“What was that?” Bakugou asked, lifting an eyebrow as he moved up next to you, and easily lifted the saddle from your horse's back.

“Nothin’,” you snapped, watching as he easily placed your saddle back on its rack in the tack section of your trailer. “I had that.”

“Y/n,” Toshinori hissed quietly from behind you, “let the poor boy help ya, okay? He’s trying to extend - wadda you call it?- an olive branch?”

“Olive branch or not, he’s full of it,” you sneered, eyeing Bakugou as he snooped through your tack, “you and I both know he’s just sniffin’ out the competition. Does this every year, it gets his rivals unnerved. You saw what happened to Izuku last year? Yeah, you and I both know Izuku doesn’t just fall off his horse during a spin, Bakugou got all up in his head.”

Toshinori’s lips flattened into a flat line, he seemed displeased that you brought up his favorite student, practically his other adopted son besides Bakugou. “Katsuki isn’t like that, don’t you dare blame him.”

“Yeah fuckin’ right, Toshi. You just can’t see it cause you love him like he’s your own, but I can. He’s a snake, plays dirty as hell to get what he wants. Even to his best friend, Izuku, and he’ll do it to me too. Your actual family,” you said, feeling your anger flare as you turned on your heel heading towards Bakugou who was looking at your horse's stifles.

“These look a little sore, probably need to get them injected,” he said, lips quirked up again at the sight of your deepening frown.

“Yeah? Are you a vet?” you scoffed as you kicked his knee, prompting him to stand up. He was tall, you'd give him that. Probably around 6’4 without his boots on. You knew he liked to use his height to intimidate people, but that didn’t work on you. Not anymore. “Get the hell out of here, I know what you’re doin’ and it’s not gonna work.”

“And what would that be, princess?” Bakugou drawled as he leaned against your trailer.

“You’re trying to get in my head, make me mess up,” you answered while folding your arms across your chest. “It’s not gonna work this year, Katsuki. I’m gonna take that number one spot from you.”

Bakugou’s playful dememour instantly turned dark at your threat, he laughed, it was deep and mocking. “I highly doubt that. You can try, but just like all the years past you’ll mess up. Get all tangly in that head of yours,” he said as he flicked you in the forehead.

“Ouch!” you hissed, rubbing your forehead as you glared up at him. “That supposed to scare me? C’mon Bakugou, you can do better than that,” you hissed glancing back at your uncle who was on his phone and not listening, which allowed you to lean into Bakugou closer, “I know what you said to Izuku last year, don’t think that’s gonna work on me.”

An emotion flashed across Bakugou’s face that you couldn’t place, but you quickly guessed it might have been guilt, which was strange. However, it was quickly replaced with a smug smirk, “you think so? Then you better watch out, princess, you’ll be next.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes, “alright, sure. Go and get, I’m tired of lookin’ at you.”

Bakugou huffed, glancing up at your uncle who was now watching you both, “yeah whatever, work on your hands? I want to have some actual competition this year, ya know?”

You snorted and shook your head as you watched him turn on his heel and walk towards his obnoxiously large black truck. Well, you both had the same truck but yours was better. “Let’s go home,” you said aloud.

—-----------------

“Don’t you think you should listen to him?” your friend Tsu asked as she rode past you on her large warmblood gelding. 

“My hands are soft,” you said with a huff as you loosened your reins.

Tsu shook her head as he cantered up towards a high jump. You could hear her counting her strides before her horse leaped over the jump and landed perfectly on the other side. She rode back up to you and came to a stop, “he’s right, you extend your shoulder too far out, I think you’re just being nice to Cowboy. He’d do better with more contact on his bit.”

You frowned as you grabbed your reins and adjusted your arm so you weren’t letting it hang too far over the saddle. It’s not like you didn’t have soft hands, you did, but that’s when you were riding English. Which is where you met your friend Tsu. Both of you met when you were younger and learned everything you knew about riding.

“That’s better,” she said as she watched you trot around her. “I hate to say it, but maybe you should let Bakugou give you a lesson?”

Tsu!” you almost screeched causing her horse to jump at the shrill tone of your voice, “you did not just say that!”

Tsu laughed, “just kidding, Y/n, but maybe go watch him ride?”

You chewed the inside of your cheek as you mulled over her suggestion, “I guess I could. Maybe get inside his head.”

“Sure sure,” Tsu said with another chuckle as she glanced down at her watch, “look I gotta go, but text me if you’re going to that bar tonight with Ochako and Momo?”

“I will, just be ready by ten just in case,” you said as you watched Tsu head back to the stable. You were currently working as a ranch manager on Toshinori’s ranch which allowed Tsu to board her horse at his stable for cheap. It was a nice gig and Toshi paid you well, despite you being his niece. 

Granted he needs the extra help anyway. You swallowed thickly as a memory flashed in your eyes. You took a shaky breath before heading back to the stables and watching Tsu peel out of the driveway in her green car. 

You dismounted Cowboy and began untacking him again and let him loose around the stable so he could graze. He was good for a stallion, you trained him well, so you didn’t have to worry too much about him getting to the mares or the other horses. You’d still put him up before you left anyway.

“He’s always been a good one, hasn’t he?” a gentle voice said from inside of the stables.

You squinted as you watched Izuku wheel out of the stable with a solemn look on his face. “Yeah, Cowboy is a special horse.”

“I know, you’ve trained him up pretty good, Y/n,” Izuku said with a small smile as he stopped his wheelchair in front of you.

You smiled down at Izuku. What had happened to him was tragic. He was neck and neck with Bakugou during last year's championship competition. You thought he was better than Bakugou actually, he had raw talent and a work ethic that was insane.

Although during his run last year something that seemed impossible happened, Izuku came out strong but once he got to his last spin his horse slipped and landed right on Izuku crushing his lower back and paralyzing him almost immediately. 

You knew Bakugou had been taunting him before, telling him not to hold his reins too tight, don’t press his heel too hard into his horse's side, relax in the saddle or something would go wrong. All things to unnerve Izuku and for Izuku to have a fall like that, whether it was his fault or his horse just slipped, you would always blame Bakugou for trying to get into Izuku’s head, mess with him. It wasn’t right. 

You’d never forget the cry that Izuku let out when his horse landed on him or the shock in his voice when he shouted he couldn’t feel his legs, it was horrifying. 

“You okay?” Izuku asked, tilting his head as his green curls fell to the side of his face.

You nodded and plastered on a smile, “yeah, and hey we got first yesterday. Gonna knock Bakugou down from the top this year.”

Izuku smiled, “I’m sure you will, Y/n.”

“Thanks Izu,” you said with a smile as you placed your hand on his shoulder.

“Y/n,” Izuku began as he gazed out into the open arena, “I know you blame him, but he didn’t do this. I just want you to know that, it was just an accident.”

You curled your fingers into Izuku’s shoulder, “He shouldn’t have been telling you all of that before your run. He got into your head, made you nervous Izu.”

“He did do that, but I’ve made peace that it was an accident,” Izuku said, even though there was a small hint of anger in his voice.

“If you think so,” you said quietly, watching your best friend gaze out across the field to where some of the horses were grazing, including his now gelded stallion.

Izuku nodded and gave you a small smile, “have fun tonight, don’t let Ochako talk to any other guys,” he teased.

You snorted, “she’s only got eyes for you, Izu.”

Izuku’s cheeks flushed and he looked away from you trying to conceal his grin.

You grinned and ruffled his hair before heading inside to get ready to have fun with your friends, but the nagging voice in your head told you that Izuku should be with you too. 

—---------------------

The bar you were in was a bit interesting, but it was your favorite. There was a big dance floor in the middle, lots of places to sit, some places to play pool, and a mechanical bull. However, the best part was that off to the far right there was a small indoor arena where there would be bull riding at midnight.

It was pretty entertaining and it helped you loosen up a bit. Which you needed, you were acutely aware of the stick up your ass right now.

The music was loud as you chugged down a whiskey sour before reaching for another one, feeling your body become buzzed with the alcohol. It felt nice to be feeling so light for once.

“Ooh! Look! They’re about to ride the bulls,” Momo shouted as she dragged you across the bar and towards the arena where you both climbed onto a table to get a better look.

“What about Tsu and Ochako?” you slurred as you fixed your crop top.

“They’ll catch up!” Momo shouted as the lights turned on and the announcer started to hype up the crowd as the guys in the pen got the first bull ready.

“First up we’ve got Eijirou Kirishima or better known as Red Riot! He’s well known around here, never seen a guy take as many horns to the side as him, dude’s built like a boulder!” the announcer shouted as the crowd went wild.

Your eyes widened as you watched the largest guy you’ve ever seen get on his bull, which was huge too. He had a mass of wild red hair and laughed as his buddies slapped him on the shoulder. 

“That’s like your dream guy, Y/n,” Momo said loudly as she watched your face, you were in utter awe.

“I know,” you said as you mindlessly took a sip of your drink. 

“Better go get ‘em before the other girls do,” Momo said with a giggle as she nudged your arm, “you gotta let loose for once.”

You nodded, keeping your eyes glued to Kirishima as his ride started. He was good, hanging on tight as he kept one arm up while the bull bucked wildly around the small arena. You let out a gasp as the bulls head slammed back into Kirishima’s face causing his mask to fly off, but he held on until the timer buzzed and then let go. He landed rather roughly but managed to scramble to his feet and climb the fence.

In a brief moment you caught his scarlet gaze and he grinned and wiped the blood off his face from his nose. 

“Did he just smile at you?” Momo asked, glancing between the two of you.

You nodded, a slow grin growing on your face as you watched Kirishima hop off the fence and towards the back after his bull exited the arena. “He did.”

—----------

Across the bar, Bakugou was nursing a warm beer as Denki continued to ramble on about how he breaks in colts to the girl snuggled into his side. 

“Look who's here,” Shindo said from next to Bakugou as he set his beer down, “Y/n’s up on that table with Shoto’s girl, yeah?”

Bakugou turned his gaze towards you to see you standing on your toes, dressed in something he doesn't usually see you in. He then watched as you hopped off the table and practically sprinted towards the arena. “The hell is she scurrying off to?”

“Who knows,” Shindo said with a yawn, “that one is trouble though, mean as hell, just like that stud she has,” he added as he rubbed his arm, there was a small scar there from when your horse bit him.

Bakugou huffed, cutting his gaze to Cami who had come back by his side and placed her hand on his chest, “got your drink?”

She nodded, grinning as she took a sip of her drink, “yup, thanks for paying, Kats.”

He nodded, giving her cheek a small pinch between his fingers as he turned his gaze back towards you. To his surprise you were talking with one of his close friends, Eijirou Kirishima. He was a bull rider and did some ranch work on the side, pushing cattle and such.

“Oh she’s talking to Eijirou,” Shindo said with a snort, “he better watch out, sure she bites too.”

“You’re just jealous,” Sero finally spoke up from the other side of the booth, “she’s rejected you like four times, Shindo.”

“Yeah whatever,” Shindo said with a snort as he took a heavy sip from his beer.

Bakugou furrowed his brows as he watched his friend tuck some of your hair behind your ear, and he felt something heavy settle in his stomach like lead.

—-----------------

“You’re really good,” you said rather awkwardly to Kirishima who had just tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear.

“You think so?” he said with a chuckle as he let his hand drop down next to his side again.

You nodded, “yeah,” you trailed off, feeling your face turn hot.

Kirishima laughed, “you’re cute, you wanna dance?” he asked as he held his hand out for you.

Your eyes widened, “um okay, I’m not very good though."

He laughed again as his hand engulfed yours, “that’s okay, just follow my lead. I’ll take good care of ya.”

You smiled as you let him lead you onto the dance floor and he immediately pulled you in close. He was tall, pushing 6’6 and you were level with his chest, which meant you had to look up to see his face. 

Kirishima placed his hand on the small of your back and held your hand in his as he began to pull you along to the music, making you laugh.

“Gonna twirl ya, ready?” he asked, his scarlet eyes shining under the multicolored lights.

You nodded, grateful that the alcohol was making you more relaxed and definitely looser, or you knew you’d be stiff as a board in his arms. A small shout escaped you as he twirled you and then dropped you down into a dip, making you scramble to grab onto him.

“You’re just too cute sweetheart,” he cooed, giving you a wide smile and exposing a set of perfectly white teeth.

You nearly melted as he pulled you back up flush against him. He smelled good too, like spice and just a little bit of alcohol. It was almost addicting as he pulled you close to him again, and ran his thumb over the back of your hand as he led you both around the dance floor.

The song soon ended and you found yourself back in a secluded booth sipping on another whiskey sour as Kirishima told you about his day job of working as a ranch hand at Crimson Ranch. 

“So what about you darlin’?” Kirishima asked as he pulled you closer to him and rested his big hands on your thighs.

“Oh I work as a ranch manager for my uncle’s ranch now, but I rein,” you answered as you felt yourself lean into him.

“Really?” Kirishima drawled as he inched his hands up further on your bare thighs, “well, believe it or not, I’ve seen you ride before, you’re talented.”

Your eyes widened, “you have?”

Kirishima nodded, “yeah, one of my friends does reining too, he’s pretty good, but I’d reckon you’re better,” he said with a wink.

If he hadn't already won you over with the smooth talking and dancing he sure did now. “Yeah?”

Kirishima nodded, as he helped you settle onto his lap. He gazed up at you as he placed his hands on your hips and hooked his thumbs into your belt loops and pulled you flush against him, “oh yeah, you and that dunskin make a good pair, you gonna bring home the championship this year?”

“Now you’re just tryin’ to butter me up,” you said, trying to keep your cool as you resisted the urge to grind down on him.

Kirishima almost purred, “nah, just tellin’ the truth darlin’.”

You lifted an eyebrow, “dunno, not sure if I believe ya.”

“No?” Kirishima teased as he watched you lean over, you both were so close that your lips were just barely grazing his.

“No,” you answered, letting your eyes close as he pressed his lips to yours. A soft sigh escaped you as you kissed him. He tasted like whiskey and a little bit of blood, but that didn’t bother you. All that you could think of was his hands on you and the warm feeling starting to spread into your limbs from your tummy.

Kirishima nipped at your lip making you whine as you tangled your hands into his mane of hair and pressed yourself closer against him, so close that you coud feel the planes of muscle through his flannel and the bulge in his jeans.

You broke away to catch your breath as he pressed open mouthed kisses to your jaw and down the side of your neck as you rocked your hips against his, gasping into his ear as the buckle of his belt pressed aginst your core just right.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Kirishima groaned as he squeezed your sides and spread his legs more, he was fixing to run his hand under your crop top, but he caught sight of someone marching up towards him.

“Kiri,” you muttered, voice needy as he pressed his hand to your lower back making you whine softly.

“Hold on sweetheart,” he whispered sweetly into your ear, “Katsuki, what’s up dude?”

You froze, Katsuki? Dread filled your veins like ice as you stiffened in Kirishima’s big arms.

“The hell are you doin’?” Bakugou’s deep voice cut through your syrupy haze like a hot knife.

“What I want, mind your own business, yeah?” Kirishima said with a large smirk, which only grew as he felt you stiffen even more, “look ya scared her.”

You gulped and turned your head to look at Bakugou over your shoulder.

Bakugou held your gaze, trying to avoid looking at your swollen lips or the red marks on your neck, or the fact that he could see Kirishima still grinding up into you. He swallowed thickly and narrowed his eyes at you before finally speaking, “better not miss your lesson tomorrow, princess.”

“Lesson?” you asked, raising your eyebrows in shock.

“Your uncle set it up a few hours ago, don’t be late, it's at eight tomorrow morning,” Bakugou said while rolling his eyes as he turned on his heel and headed out towards the front door, reaching his hand out for Cami to grab.

[subpar-ghoulfriend]

A Family Affair

Slasher AU CannibalFamily!EraserMicxReader

We’re going with the “strange family that lives outside of a small town” trope. After a few deliveries to the Aizawa household you get pulled in to an affair you never wanted to be a part of. 

Spooky season is upon us and I’ve already begun watching too many horror movies.  This fic will definitely be a two parter

Super Dark Content Warning!!! Literally do not read if you have any reservation and definitely no minors!

TW: cannibal themes, mentions of murder, mentions of corpse mutilation, kidnapping, unhealthy relationships

Part 2 is gonna include more of this and the smut

Growing up you were grateful for living in a small town. You didn't really relate to the coming-of-age stories told in the movies where the small town girl runs off to the big city for a whirlwind romance and a chance at some "big break." To you, small town life was more picturesque than any overcrowded city. You knew your neighbors, and watched a lot of their families grow and change throughout the years. A small town allows you to become a regular at several businesses, including the coffee shop and your favorite diner downtown. Going away to college was tough even though you didn't go far. The nearest city - a little over 40 miles away - had a great college with a program you were really interested in pursuing.

You went home every break and picked up delivery jobs at one of the local restaurants. It was winter break of your last year in college when you first delivered to the Aizawa residence. In all your years at the restaurant they never ordered delivery, one of the two men would always place an order for pick up. The thing about small town stereotypes is that small towns tend to self-impose said stereotypes. The Aizawa's were that family. The one that everyone whispered when they came to town and children would tell horror stories about during Halloween. They were the weird family that lived just past the outskirts of town.

You weren't entirely sure what either of the two men did. Everyone speculated that Mr. Aizawa was some sort of mountain-man-feral type and maybe did some mechanic work for the folks that tend to live in between towns. His husband, Mr. Yamada seemed like the stay at home trophy husband but you heard he did some sort of conspiracy podcast. They had children - reportedly, but no one has really met them - and other family members that live similarly further out into the middle of nowhere. The drive was absurdly long but they were loyal customers and the owners didn't want to turn their request down. Your boss handed you a chunk of bills to fill up your tank before heading out. That's no place you'd want to get stranded, he told you.

The paved road got worse the further you got from town. Forty-five minutes later you were pulling down the dirt road that led to the illuminated Aizawa home. A wall of cold air slammed in to you when you opened your car door and you grumbled about leaving your gloves at home. There was no doorbell, so knocked and did that awkward please-don't-let-me-freeze dance while you waited. Two unfamiliar faces opened the door, an apathetic looking teen and an adorable little girl. Must be their children. The older one called out for his dad before taking one of the bags you held and disappearing into the home. You looked down awkwardly and wave at the girl. She smiled shyly and reached out for the other bag.

"Are you sure?" You asked her, "It's a little heavy."

She nodded.

"Okay, but use two hands," You passed her the bag. "Oh jeez, you're strong. Don't tell your brother, but I think this is the heavier bag."

You smiled when she giggled and ran off.

Mr. Aizawa appeared in the door, "How much do we owe?"

He was just as terrifying up close and for a split second your mind went blank while your basic instincts were begging you go back to the car. He raised an eyebrow at you, looking irritated at your falter.

"Uh - forty-two."

He pulled counted out a chunk of bills and then you were off. You didn't even count the amount until you parked. Forty-two with a forty-dollar tip. They may be odd but apparently they're loaded. You didn't think much of it until the following week when you were heading back to their house with another delivery. You wished that they would order earlier but at least you could hope for another generous tip. You were taken aback when the little girl answered the door by herself, jumping up and down with excitement.

Was she old enough to answer the door by herself?

"Papa," She yelled. "The lady is here!"

She turned her attention back to you with a huge grin, "Shinsou got sore that you told me I'm the stronger one."

Before you could respond to her the other man, Mr. Yamada, bounced around the corner, "Eri, what have we told you about the door? Oh no, you must be freezing come stand inside while I go get your payment. Forty-two right?"

You wanted to protest, feeling uneasy in their entryway but the little girl tugged you by the delivery bags. So you stood there quietly while she ran back in forth so she could unload the delivery for you. Shinsou peered around the corner so you gave a small wave. Then it was just you and Eri once again. In the background you could hear Yamada asking his husband where the wallet went.

"I like your shirt," You smiled, trying to fill the silence.

"I wanted a Pegasus shirt but this was the only one my daddy could find."

"Well I think unicorns are pretty cool too."

You use to babysit for some of the families in town, no part of you could imagine doing that all the way out here.

The blonde rejoined you, giving you another lush payment. You heard the little girl whine about you leaving so quickly until her father appeased her by saying you'd be back.

Something about that rubbed you the wrong way; but you were back like clockwork the next week with their usual delivery. Once again you were brought inside while they went to get your payment. But on your fourth and what should have been your final delivery of the winter break you noticed something was off when you parked. Their truck was missing from its usual spot. Strange but they probably just moved it somewhere else on the property. You had become accustom Eri running to answer the door and telling you wait for her parents in the entrance of the house. You became suspicious after she had run back and forth to take the food to the kitchen.

"Eri, where are your parents? Or Shinsou?"

The little girl's response was nonchalant, "They had to go out, one of our cattle got out. But they gave me the money."

You stuffed the money into your jacket; payment was the issue here. In the back of your mind you though about how you never saw any cattle on your deliveries. A child her age shouldn’t be left alone.

"Oh, well, can I hang out with you while we wait for them to come back?"

The little girl lit up as she pulled you to the living room. There was a kid's movie playing on the TV and she had a coloring book out. Eri divide up her crayons and tore out a page for you to join her. You kept looking to the window, waiting for the truck to pull up.

Suddenly there was banging at the door, which elicited a cry from Eri. You reached into your pocket only finding the crumpled bills. Shit, your stomach dropped. You left your phone in your car. After all, this was just supposed to be a quick delivery. The noise stopped, only for a moment, before resuming.

"Eri, sweetie," You whispered to the stunned little girl. "Do your parents have a phone here?"

She shook her head.

A man’s voice tore through the door, "Let me in dammit, you have to let me in before they come back."

You held your finger to your lip, and Eri nodded, repeating the gesture. The living room light was on and you realized that if he came to the side of the house you'd be seen through the window, but turning out the light would draw attention. Maybe he was bluffing, maybe he didn't know if anyone was inside and turning off the light would signal your presence. You pointed to the kitchen, where the lights were off and the two of you tip toed to the safety of darkness.

"Eri, honey, can you go sit in the pantry for me and be really, really quiet? I'll be right out here and don't come out until I come to get you okay?"

She looked hesitant and tearful but you were surprised at her level of composure for a kid. Finally she complied. Once the pantry door was closed you began rummaging through the drawers, looking for something that could inflict the most damage. A meat tenderizer could work. The banging continued and you swore you hear wood beginning to splinter. Your grip tightened with every bang. Finally the door gave way and a man stumbled through the splintered wood. He stopped when he saw you holding the cleaver.

He was dirty, without shoes or a shirt and his skin was red from the cold.

You hoped your voice wouldn’t crack, "You need to leave-"

"Monsters, monsters," he blabbed. "They're gonna come back and we gotta go."

You decided to bluff, "Get out of here, I already called the cops."

"Good, good, good," He mumbled, “but we still gotta go. NOW."

There was one step forward from him, one step back from you.

"If you come near me, I'll make sure you don't get up," You warned. At the very least you had to keep him away from Eri. Even if that was all you could do.

There was a desperate look in his eyes; they darted from you to the keys hooked to your jeans, then back to the keys. Finally he smiled, "You have a car, man that's perfect. Listen I won't hurt you but we need to get in your damn car, now."

Sounds like something someone who wants to hurt me would say, you thought. Apparently you took too long to respond, the man lunged toward you and you tried to swing the meat tenderizer. The tool connected with his shoulder and he howled out in pain but still managed to wrestle you to the ground. The two of you struggled with each other and the man was yelling that you'd die if you didn't listen to him. You landed a weak hit to his jaw, splitting his lip. You even tried biting at him but he was persistent and struggling to get your keys. You were telling him he could have them that he just needed to let you go but he wasn't listening to you. Managing to grab his ear you had a flashback to the self-defense seminar you had to take in college, it should be easy to rip a human ear. So you pulled. Blood began to flow from the wound down his face and on to you. He got you off him before you got the whole ear by delivering a blow to your stomach. The air rushed from your body, is this what it means to get the wind knocked out of you?

There was a loud noise and fog lights flooded through the broken door. Then saw Shinsou and Aizawa pulling the man off you. You pushed yourself and back, clutching at your stomach. Your cheeks were wet. Were you crying or was that blood on your face? Probably both.

The trio wrangled the man outside where you heard more struggling, fighting, and groaning.

Eri.  You managed your way to the kitchen but realized you were covered in blood. Not wanting to traumatize the little girl any further you spoke through the door.

"Eri, can you stay there a little bit longer?"

"Can't I come out? I heard my daddies," She cried, tugging at your heartstrings.

"Not yet, okay? They're here and everything's okay, I'm gonna have them come get you okay?"

Thankfully, the door didn't open. As you shuffled toward the front door Mr. Yamada entered, wiping specks of blood off him.

You were shocked when he pulled you into a hug, "You're okay. Sho and Shinsou got everything under control. Where is Eri?"

You told him about her hiding spot and he sighed in relief and rushed to her.

The other two returned with bloodied knuckles that made your stomach churn.

"Yamada," The mountain man called, with his eyes scanning the home.

"Don't worry, Sho, I got Eri. She's fine. Our delivery girl is okay, she's got some bumps and bruises but she made the other guy look worse."

Aizawa ushered you to the couch, expecting your legs to give out at any moment.

"We need to call the police," You finally spoke.

Aizawa assured you he did. They were 45 minutes out but they'd work on getting here faster. Yamada brewed you a cup of tea, “for while we wait.” They finally calmed Eri down and Shinsou took her upstairs to get ready for bed. It felt weird for them to return to mundane evening routines so quickly after all that chaos, but maybe you were just the odd one out. Close to an hour later you were still waiting for the police to show up. Your tea was finished long ago and your nerves had calmed. You were even having trouble keeping your eyes open.

"You think they're almost here, babe" The blonde wondered, draping a throw blanket around your shoulders. "I'm sure she wants to this day to be over with."

---

It was still dark when you woke up. The blonde was fast asleep on the recliner next to you. The police must have come by now but there was no way you slept through the visit. Anxiety from earlier made it’s way back in to your chest. The clock read 4am; had they even called the police. All of the childhood rumors you heard came flooding back and you exited the house as quietly as you could, not realizing your keys were no longer with you.

When you made it outside you noticed dried blood on the ground, trailing toward what you assumed was their barn or storage shed. You were entranced. Looking back to the house, no one was awake; there was no movement, no light, just quiet. You shouldn’t follow the bloody trail, you shouldn't go near the shed; but your body moved on it's own accord and before you realized it you were at the doors. You gave a tug, expecting it to be locked, but the door swung open and inside you noticed the lock lay on the ground.

You should have turned around, got in your car, and drove away. Instead you stepped inside and found the bloody, broken body of the man who attacked you. There was a slight sway to the corpse that was hanging from a reinforced pillar. Nearly screaming your hand shot to cover your mouth.

You should've left.

You should've left.

You should've left.

Aizawa was watching you from the kitchen, cursing Hizashi for leaving the shed unlocked. His hand hovered over the secured cabinet drawer that stored a pistol. He wouldn't shoot you only scare you a bit. But you weren't running out in a panic. He didn't even hear you scream. Interesting. He went to join you, moving like any predator concealing it presence and leaving the gun safe untouched.

You should've left.

You should've left.

You finally came to your sense and whirled around only to run into your late night admirer. A terrified squeak escaped you as you jumped further into the confined space.

"Mr Aizawa! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have - I'm sorry."

He didn't look angry, although you wished he did. It would be better than the unsettling smile on his face.

"That's alright, I was heading out here anyway," He closed the door behind him and flicked on a dim light that lit up the room with shadows. "Can't leave it hanging for too long."

Your throat tightened, he stood between you and the only exit. If he noticed your terror there was no indication that he cared. He turned his back to you momentarily, rummaging through the clutter on the workbench. Now was the best chance you may get and you made a dash for the door. It was a futile attempt and part of you knew it but your nerves were ablaze with adrenaline and you were running on instinct not reason. There was a foreign tightness around your throat that kept you fighting to inhale. Struggling to breathe you didn’t even register the sharp pinch of a needle piercing your deltoid.

Aizawa pressed his nose to your hair, "Behave. Even if you get out of here, your tire has a flat, pesky nails tend to find their way on to the roads out here. A real shame."

He dragged you over to a chair across from the lifeless body cuffing both your wrists to the armrests. Stupid, stupid, he was grabbing out cuffs and I ran straight into him, you scolded yourself. You went to open your mouth and beg to be let go, but you were silenced.

"Keep it down or I'll have to find a way to keep you quiet."

Your heart was beating so hard it hurt. Once a friend said it was possible to die by fright, if that was true you wouldn't last much longer. Now that you were safely out of the way, Aizawa could make quick work dismembering the carcass. He donned his usual rubber apron and pulled back his hair. With his experience he could finish the job in less than two hours. Now was as good a time as ever for you to learn.

With a sigh he began his explanation and craft:

"Cannibalism has been around as long as we've existed: sacrificially, ceremonially, culturally, especially during times of plague, war, and famine. You can find documented accounts from pretty much every part of the world. And there's no one reason. Our family keeps it simple. We eat meat, animals are meat, and humans are animals. In times of famine and other hardships, this was a reliable food source. Of course now, there's not much of a risk for severe famine to effect people like us but it's tradition. This is how it's been for our family for years. And not just those of us around these parts but our relatives everywhere. It's important to keep old trades alive."

He paused, now splattered with blood, to take note of your dry heaving.

"Please," You gasped. "I just want to go -"

With narrowed eyes he continued:

"It's important for you to listen to our family history. Typically we don't reap a harvest until three weeks after the winter solstice and 3 weeks before the summer solstice. Twice a year is enough to get us by. Zashi and I are impressed that you managed to wrangle him in. Poetic in a way, don’t ’cha think? Consuming the flesh of someone who tried to overpower you. First reap of the harvest. Nice that it's a family affair."  

The room was spinning and you were fighting the sedative as hard as you could. There was no way any of this was real, maybe you were dreaming? Maybe you'd been knocked unconscious when that man rushed you. Or better yet, maybe you were asleep at home still. It was possible that this whole delivery fiasco was just a nightmare. Your stomach churned at the speech. There was sun peaking through the cracks in the wall by the time he finished separating the ... different sections. There was no more body, just pieces. You nodded off for a few minutes before being jolted awake by the door opening and letting in the bright morning light .

"Good morning, you two night owls," Hizashi beamed. Walking to his husband handing over a tall mug of coffee. He was completely unfazed by the scene he walked in on. In fact the only frown he made was when Aizawa said he put too much sweetener in the coffee.  "Anyways, grumpy pants, I called your sister. She's on her way to pick up Eri and Shinsou for a few days. To give us some time to focus on our little muse. Speaking of, I should go get her some water. Oh, plus we need to fix our door."

---

After you refused to drink anything they tried to give you they left you alone in the shed. The handcuffs were too tight for you to slip through and in your struggle you managed to topple the chair over, hitting the floor with painful slap. It was hard to ignore the buzzing of the flies swarming the space where the body once hung. You closed your eyes, your mind wandering to your family and what they would think when they realized you were missing.

Outside you heard a car pull up and were tempted to scream for someone to help you. Maybe it was the police; maybe someone realized you didn't go home last night and found out where your last delivery was. Your captors came out to greet whoever it was and you were glad you didn't yell, they sounded friendly. They were coming toward the shed but you were too defeated to react.

"Sho," Hizashi gasped, "She fell."

The response was sharp and sarcastic, "I hadn't noticed." He yanked you up with ease and the world was no longer side ways but the jolt paired with the exhaustion and drugs left the world spinning.

The woman must've been the sister they mentioned earlier. She squealed with delight, "Oh isn't she the cutest, lemme get a good look."

She resembled neither of the men and gave off cool-soccer-mom vibes. With a gentle grip on your chin she bore into your eyes.

"Please,” You begged, “I just want go home."

The sister didn't waiver, "Don't worry sweet thing, these two are gonna take such good care of you. Just relax and let them help you."

Help? You don't need help from them. You needed to get out of this hell.

"Okay," She bounced toward the exit, "Bring out my niece and nephew, we're gonna have a fun weekend. And take care of your girl, she looks like a keeper."

Finally you screamed in frustration. Brief, loud, and full of anger but it deflated just as quickly when the two men shot you a menacing look. How could all three of them show no display of empathy? You were again convinced this was an alternate reality when both children peaked their heads in to wave goodbye before they peeled away from the home, leaving you alone with Hizashi and Aizawa.

---

There was a hatch toward the back of the room where the two disappeared until they came back with a third body. They were dragging a woman up like a ragdoll and acidic bile burned your throat. If you had to guess you would say she was late middle age. It felt like they were setting a stage, Hizashi pulled you closer to where they stood while Aizawa managed to tie the woman down to the stained table.

"Why are you doing this," you cried. But they ignored you.

"Did you know there are people who pay for certain oddities and they’re willing to spend big bucks to get what they want? We keep whatever makes sense to eat and sell the rest. Ideally nothing goes to waste.”

The next hour and forty-seven minutes were excruciating. There were several “items” – as they referred to her body parts – that they removed while she was still alive; but finally Aizawa made the perfect incision along her thigh and a pomegranate wave gushed out. There was no way she would suffer much longer with this amount of blood loss.

"Please just let her die," You begged the universe. "Please let it end."

For the first time since starting they stepped back from the body, leaving it on the table to come over to you. Aizawa knelt before you and his bloody hand brushed hair from your face; his thumb rested on your lip and you couldn't even physically respond. Hizashi was behind him, rubbing his partner's shoulders.

"You're going to kill me?”  

Both men finally softened, coming down their endorphin high. There was something so satisfying about your question. Arousing, even. They made it clear that your life was up to them, which meant they had you where they needed you.

"Am I having a blonde moment? I don't recall saying we'd kill her."

Aizawa threw an incredulous look his way before addressing you, "We aren't going to kill you. We wouldn't've saved you from that terrible animal if that were the plan. We don't kill just anyone. We wanted to introduce you to our lifestyle and now’s the best chance. Eri’s wanted to keep you since day one, but if you can't behave that'll be an issue. Can you prove to us that you’re going to behave or do we have to get you down into the cellar?”

There was no other choice than to nod. Picking up a piece of the dissected woman Hizashi muttered something about starting dinner before telling his husband that you really need to get more rest. Aizawa agreed, and since it seemed like you were having trouble getting rest he decided to give you another little dose of medicine.

[hotwings0203]

I feel like Dabi would be the type of dude who would bully you incessantly at the LOV and for the life of you you can’t figure out why. He’s always around you and making snarky comments or pulling your hair, trying to catch you messing up on missions. You’re sure he hates you, and you do well to stay out of his way, or sometimes when you feel bold you’ll offer a quip of your own. The bullying increases whenever you talk to other guys at the bar, especially when you make Tomura crack a smile, Dabi’s breathing down your neck the second your leader leaves, calling you terrible names and pushing past your boundaries.

Cw: language, nsfw, noncon, manga spoilers, some angst?

In a perfect world, Touya would not have been abandoned and rejected by his family. In a perfect world, Dabi would not exist, and Touya would be eating dinner with his family right now as he shows his little brother how to properly wield fire to its fullest extent.

But there was no such thing as a perfect world, and therefore Dabi did exist. And Dabi doesn’t care for anyone, or anything.

Or so he tells himself.

“Slut”

“Nothing but eye candy, and shitty eye candy at that”

It’s nothing you haven’t heard before, but it doesn’t make it any easier to ignore him

“What was that all about, huh? The fuck are you and crusty snickering about?”

Fed up with his continuous antics, you decide to mouth off a little too.

“Oh nothing, just talking about how adorable you and Hawks would make as a couple. And wipe that sneer off your face, it looks like some of your staples fell out of your mouth.”

It’s nothing too snarky, but in a second he’s shoving you in some dark room, forearm pinned against your throat as his hand is lit up with blue flames merely inches away from you, snarling in your face.

“You wanna be funny, bitch? I got jokes of my own too, why dont I show you what happens to dumb little girls who don’t know their fucking place? I think that would be real funny.”

But his hand is stopped from drawing near your wide eyes when you both hear Twice and Toga calling everyone for their next meeting.

He pushes you away from him, giving you a murderous look over his shoulder as he leaves the room, not paying mind to the way you slide down the wall in the dark.

You take extra precaution to try avoiding him for the next few days, not even making eye contact with him when you two get teamed up for tasks. He never mentions the room incident, if anything he acts as if it never happens. It’s like whiplash for you, he tries to weirdly talk to you more but all you offer him is mumbles and hums of agreement.

The conversation is never long, but it starts to be less talk of degrading you and more of begrudging questioning of what you’ve been up to. You never engage, opting to pretend like you never heard him, and strangely enough he leaves it be.

You give him a side eye one day as he joins you at the bar (much to your discontent), downing your glass just to fill another.

He says nothing as he slides into the stool right next to you, and pours a glass of whiskey for himself as well.

It’s awkwardly silent, you’re not sure if you should leave or not, but you’d be damned if you try to initiate small talk with this psycho.

But then, he speaks.

“Is Shigaraki sending you on the mission to get that UA kid?”

His gravely voice rumbles and cracks from his usual lack of use, and he clears his throat after he talks.

“No.”

“Oh.”

This is excruciating, you think to yourself as he mulls over the drink in his hand for a silent minute or two.

Toga calls you over thankfully at the exact same moment, and you breathe out an inaudible sigh of relief as you slip off the stool to join her.

“Wait-“ Dabi grabs your arm and you flinch out of instinct, expecting a slap or a burn to come from him.

He sees your reaction and shakes his head dismissively, letting you go and muttering a “Nevermind”. You don’t ponder over it as you trip over your own feet to join the eccentric blond.

A week passes, and then two. With each day you maneuver your way around him, request to be partnered up with different people in private, and busy yourself in random tasks. Every time you pass him by the bar he lifts his head from whatever he’s doing and tries to maintain eye contact with you, even going so far as to open his mouth to say or ask god-knows-what.

You try to ignore the foreign hopeful glint in his glacial eyes as you walk right past him, ducking your head as you do so.

It drives Dabi crazy.

He can’t handle any more rejection, he thought his family would be the last straw for him to ever want recognition or love validation from again. He wants to talk to you, to hear your voice as it snaps back with witty comebacks of your own that he secretly enjoys so much, even if it means he has to force it out of you with hateful words. He wants to feel your hair underneath his scarred hands, even if he has to mask the soft wanting of you in forms of yanking the strands. He wants nothing more than to see your eyes fill up with no other sight than him and think only of him, even if it means he has to corner you and scare you into submission.

But your silence is something he’s not used to.

Well, to be fair, you weren’t silent completely, but the only sentences he was hearing from you nowadays was when you were speaking to Shigaraki or the other League members.

You were the only idiot who didn’t notice the smoke curling from his nostrils and ears comically when he’d finally see you stop your stoic act just to open up to other men apart from him. Spinner, Twice, and Compress backed off almost immediately from talking to you for too long when they’d see the look on his face as he watched you surrounded by them, but Tomura would merely smirk from behind your shoulders and keep a level gaze with his subordinate, knowing fully well why he was so pissed off.

You began to notice the weird energy at the base soon after the rest of the men would keep curt conversations with you in comparison to your long talks about video games, sex, and life after you would all win the war.

So you thought it would be best to ask the most semi-normal person there that wasn’t fueled with testosterone and aggression.

“I just don’t get it, why are they all being weird? I mean, we all used to talk so much and now they just...try avoiding me. Except for Tomura of course, he’s still normal I guess. But he always has this smirk on his face when I’m with him and I can’t figure out why.”

Toga stops cleaning her blood-laced needle to give you a sly look, all fangs and glinting white.

“And Dabi?”

“What about him?”

She sits back on her haunches and cocks her head at you. “You really don’t know what’s happening here, do ya?”

“No,” you roll your eyes in exasperation. “But I’ll gladly take any theories here, since apparently I’m the only one who doesn’t get it.”

“He likes you.”

You gape at her for a moment and then burst out laughing.

“What? That’s crazy, he doesn’t like me, he hates me!” He can barely stand being in a room with me, all he does is talk shit and harass me.”

The blond curiously licks at a bead of red from the top of the weapon and you cringe when her own tongue rips from the sharp point.

“You say he can’t stand being in a room with you, so then why is it that he’s always there? He might talk shit, but he talks to you out of everyone else right? Regardless of if it’s something mean.”

You’re thoroughly flabbergasted. She had a point, but it was too much to wrap your head around. She cheerfully hums and gets up to flounce around the room, cleaning her already-tidy room up to a T.

“And that little silent treatment act you’re giving him isn’t helping either. I swear, Jin told me Dabi almost burned his mouth off that one day you, him and Spinner were talking about GTA. He totally cornered the poor guy and threatened his life if he didn’t stop talking to you.”

“You’re joking.”

“Am not. He wanted to do the same to Tomura but I figure he wants to keep his job, so he won’t. Doesnt make it any better for him when you’re all chummy with the one person Dabi can’t stand the most, though.”

No wonder your leader was so smug whenever you two were in the same room, your attention solely focused on him.

You run your hands down your face, moaning about the whole situation being fucked. It’s just your luck that you couldn’t take a clue, but to be fair, how could you? Being called worthless and a waste of space wasn’t exactly what you had in mind for flirty banter.

“Soooo what’re you gonna do now? I heard he’s gonna try talking to you for realsies like, tomorrow or something.”

“Tomorrow?” You yelp, jumping up to your feet. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I can’t face him!”

“Oops,” she giggles, twirling with outstretched arms around her room and falling down onto her bed.

“Oh god, I can’t do this. I don’t even know if I like him! He’s such an ass, and even when he tries to come off as normal he’s just so..unsettling. I don’t think I’ve ever had a good conversation with him.”

Toga props her elbow up to rest her chin on her hand, frowning in thought.

“Why not just tell him how you feel?”

You snort and fold your arms. “Yeah, because the psycho arsonist is really gonna take the word no well.”

“Hmm.. I see what you mean. Oh well, whatever you choose, I’ll support you!”

And with that she skips out of the room sing songing for Twice to make a clone for her.

You were fucked.

And sure enough, the next day he approaches you, hands stuffed in his pockets and an almost bored look on his face.

“Yo newbie, I gotta talk to you for a second. Come with me”.

You look blearily up at him through eye bags and mussed hair, a direct telling of your sleepless night. Your stomach drops when you hear his words, but you nod your head and take a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself of the speech you practiced till the sun rose.

No one else is bothering you both today, Shigaraki having gone to visit All For One and the rest of the League left to their own devices. It was something you weren’t so comfortable with, but you doubted a hero would come to save you.

He leads you through the short winding hallways, each step of his growing louder and heavier as the space started growing smaller. Finally, he reaches a dimly lit room and stops outside the door, gesturing for you to go in with a casual wave of his patched wrist.

“After you.”

You raise an unsure eyebrow at his uncharacteristic show of consideration, and do as he says. You’re sweating bullets, fists balled so that your nails are digging into your palms, and vision going in and out of focus as your eyes begin to adjust to your surroundings.

A loud bang pulls you out of your stupor, and you whip around at the sound.

Dabi is already staring back at you with lidded eyes, leaning his weight against the door, his arms crossing over each other.

You shift on both feet, picking at your nails nervously.

“So, what did you wanna talk about?”

He says nothing, but just observes you, his head slightly tilted as if you were some abstract art piece.

“Dabi.”

“You got a lot of nerve, y’know that?”

He pushes himself off the wall and advances slowly towards you, hands stuffed in his trench coat pockets.

You immediately back up with raised palms, sputtering indignantly at his offensive movements coming closer and closer. However you thought his ‘confession’ would go, this was most definitely not starting out like how you planned

“Excuse me? What’re you talking about-“

“I know what you’re doing. You think whoring yourself out to ol’ crusty and the rest of the guys here is gonna make everyone forget just how useless you actually are. What the fuck do you even do here? You fuck up half the missions which I have to come bail your ass out of, you constantly put us in jeopardy by being all friendly with everyone, and you can’t even keep your mouth shut when I need to let off a little steam, as I rightfully should.”

In a perfect world, Dabi would be the light of your eyes, the hero of your world. In a perfect world, Dabi would be able to hold your hand in his smooth one and tell you that he wants you so much that it impairs his rational judgement and makes him say things he doesn’t mean. He’d tell you that your presence is like a weight lifted off his chest, your presence means he doesn’t have to think or worry about the outside world, he just wants you all to himself without anyone interfering.

But this is not a perfect world, and Dabi is not a hero, but rather one of the worst villains.

So he does exactly what one does as a villain.

Instead of a loving look that he knows he’s incapable of, Dabi looks down into your horrified gaze as he traps you against the wall between his scarred arms, spewing misplaced venom at you.

“I don’t know what your problem is, but you need to chill out. First you go ballistic on me ‘cause I talked to Tomura for no reason, then you act all weird and quiet as if you’re some decent person, and now you think you can just bring me in here and tell me how worthless I am? Go fuck yourself, seriously.”

You scoff and make your way to push him but stop when he does what he did a couple weeks ago. You hold bated breath as he casually brings an inflamed hand to scratch at his face as if he can’t feel the hellfire emitting from it, and let out a whine of distress as he lowers his head mere inches from yours, lips almost touching.

“Stop talking to the rest of the guys,” he breaths. “Stop smiling, laughing, or going near anyone who isn’t me.”

You wonder if he knows how insane he sounds. He does, but that’s nothing he doesn’t know already. If anything, it solidifies in his mind that if he is to be as bad as the world has made him out to be, then he is acting exactly fit for the role.

“Why?”

“I don’t need to give sluts like you a reason. It should come as easy, right? What’s putting out for one more person?”

Your eyes are brimming with tears now, your stoic facade showing cracks as you sniffle a little bit.

He eats it up and groans watching salty rivers cascade down your cheeks. Suddenly, he feels as though he can no longer hold back anymore, he feels as though if he thinks for one more second he’ll combust.

So, acting on instinct, he surges forward and presses his lips against yours, swallowing your cries of distress and holding your hands above your head in midst of them frantically beating on his chest.

Your lips are so, so soft compared to his and it’s making him sink deeper into this instinctual daze. He puffs against your writhing lips as he thrusts his hot tongue in your mouth.

You try to bite him but when his hands heat up against your skin you resign to your fate and wail, allowing him to pull his hips flush against yours and start humping your thighs.

He draws back and bites your lips, teeth clacking against yours as he does so. You open your terrified eyes and blanch when you see the look on his face.

Lust is clearly drawn everywhere, from his blown pupils to his heaving chest, all the way to his flushed face and wild eyes. He looks as though he’s about to eat you alive and it’s appropriate that you feel like a lamb about to be slaughtered.

“Dabi, wait, please stop-“

But he cuts your pants off again in favor of slamming his hips against yours again and grinding impossibly hard on your legs, the friction of his jeans catching on your clothed cunt and forcing a mewl out of you.

“I’m not gonna stop. I’ve had enough of you teasing. You’re mine now, and if it takes burning our dear leader alive and this whole place down for you to understand that then I’ll fucking do it.”

He thought that terrorizing you would ease the empty feeling in his heart, that continuously berating you would force him to see you as what he always said you were, just another empty headed cunt. He thought that distancing himself from you and focusing on other things would make him forget about the soft feelings he longed to share with you, feelings he thought perished in the fire he was in when he was a young boy .

Even now, there is an ache in his chest as he hears you beg for him to stop, to let you go, that you’re sorry for whatever you did.

But this is not a perfect world, and not everyone gets their way in life.

You should really learn that, because Dabi already has.

And so Dabi will act accordingly to what life has put out before him .

[knifefather]

Mmmm you gotta do a scenario on helping Riz with those poor heavy breeder balls 🥴 I bet he'd appreciate you laving your tongue all over them and sucking his balls and his cock so thoroughly his legs turn to jelly

dI meannn Ris does have the biggest, juiciest balls of Passione so 👀 It is my duty to write about them! And I apologize that it took so long for me to fill this request. I hope that the wait was worth it!

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: messy blowjobs, size kink, established relationship. 18+ only 

Risotto hasn't gotten a nut in weeks.

He recently returned back to Napoli after carrying out a particularly difficult assassination. The capo had a difficult time tracking the target due to their powerful stand and an even tougher time getting the blood stains out of his clothes after he was done with them. Oh well. Wearing all black has its perks.

Risotto was gone for approximately 21 days. The bastard really gave him a run for his money, because Risotto hasn't had a chase like that in a very long time. It was challenging for sure, but nothing he couldn't handle. What he couldn't handle, though, was going so long getting a nut. He was on high alert for several days on end, and you just don't have time for that kind of stuff when you're stalking a drug lord Stand user.

Risotto did nothing but sleep after he got back. He was excited to see you, his partner, once again, but his excitement was overpowered by exhaustion. After reuniting with you, he stumbled into the bedroom and crawled into bed. And that is where he stayed, asleep. You woke him up periodically to feed him, but otherwise, you watched over him while he rested. After a few days, Risotto seemed to wake for good. You were coincidentally in the bedroom at that time, quietly putting away laundry. He groaned and slowly sat up in the bed, one of his huge hands coming up to run the sleep out of his eyes. 

“Hey, baby,” you greet, finishing hanging up a shirt in the closet. 

“Hey,” he croaks back. 

“You feeling okay?” you ask. You come to sit with him in the bed, your side still mostly made. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you to rest on his shoulder. 

“I’m alright,” he responds. “Wanna lay down for awhile?”

“You’ve been laying down for like... three days,” you say, snickering at him. 

“You know what I mean. I’ve missed being close to you.” 

Pulling up the sheets, you crawl into bed with him despite being in your day clothes. You lay on your side and he snuggles against your back, holding you securely. He inhales deeply, not doubt smelling the sweet scent of your shampoo. The two of your are still for a moment, holding each other and listening to the sound of your synchronized breathing. It’s so peaceful and comfortable in the room that your eyes begin to slip shut. Though, you’re disturbed by something poking you in the back. You adjust yourself, hoping it would go away, but instead Risotto grunts while you move. 

“Morning wood?” you question, craning your head over your shoulder to smile at him. His black and red eyes are squinted as he fights off sleep once again. 

“You could say that,” Risotto says. “It’s been almost a month since I’ve gotten any. Couldn’t even touch myself.”

“You could get some right now, you know,” you say mischievously. His eyes open wider now, red irises shifting to look at you. 

“I’m too tired to fuck you properly.” He sounds disappointed. 

“Don’t worry about this. Let me take the reigns,” you assure him. You carefully untangle yourself from his arms and push the blanket off of you. At your direction, Risotto makes himself comfortable against the pillows and slides off his boxer shorts. You position yourself between his legs, laying on your stomach between his thighs. He parts them for you, looking down at you eagerly. The expression on his face is making you feel some feel hot on the inside. 

You gingerly grab his weighty cock and gave it a couple pumps with your fist. It’s as hard as a rock in your hand and stood intimidatingly tall. You can never get Risotto to fit in your mouth all of the way, but you’ll be damned if you don’t try. You grab it by the base and guide it towards your lips, giving it a few broad licks. Looking up at him, his black and red eyes met yours. His lids are heavy, his breaths deep as you handle his cock. You mouth his tip, getting it nice and wet before taking more into your mouth. Risotto lets out a pleased sigh as you work your way down, taking more and more of him with every little bob of your head. 

“Merde,” he moans, his head rolling back on his shoulders before straightening. “I missed you so much,” he speaks, his hand coming down to cup the back of your head lovingly. You bat your lashes at him and smile as well as you can around his member. You swallow down more of him until you can’t stand it. Gagging yourself on his dick, you pump the remaining few inches that you can’t reach. Your saliva is dripping down his shaft as your mouth struggles to accommodate his pulsating length.  Risotto was never particularly vocal. He didn’t usually speak or moan very much. Though, this time, he’s breathless, grunting and groaning as you suck him with all you’ve got. You feel triumphant, and with a bit more confidence, you begin to bob your head more fervidly on his cock. Risotto’s thighs start to twitch on either side of you, his muscles growing restless and you try to suck the cum from him. “How are you doing that with your tongue?” he moans, running a hand through his short, white hair. You smugly continue to tease the underside of his cock with your tongue, all while your cheeks are hollowed. Cheekily, you use your other hand to cup his balls, squeezing him just tight enough to send jolts of pleasure up his spine. A loud moan escapes him, followed by him biting his lip to silence himself. Risotto’s cheeks are red with embarrassment, but you think that it’s adorable. His sweet, pleasured noise travels right to your pussy, causing you to tingle and throb as you suck him off. 

You can tell that your boyfriend is close because he’s beginning to buck up into your mouth. Usually he has enough control not to, because he is aware that his member is...bigger than average. But when he gets lost in the pleasure, on the edge and needing to cum, he will buck into your tight throat. Risotto only needs a little more to cum, just a bit. Tears are streaming steadily from your eyes, sloppy sounds coming from your throat with every bob of your head. Risotto grips your hair, pushing your head down slightly. “Gonna cum, cara,” he warns. But you’re prepared for it. You breathe in deeply through your nose and focuse all of your energy on relaxing your throat. Risotto lets out a long groan as he shoots his load down your throat. You sputter on his seed, some of it spilling out the sides of your mouth. Though, he’s relentless, and continues shooting ribbon after ribbon of his spunk. Drool, cum, and tears drip down your face and onto the sheets. The sight of you was truly beautiful. 

Risotto’s eyelashes are fluttering in bliss as he gets his fill. It felt like an eternity since he got to have your hands and mouth on him, and he’s so happy. You only pull back from his cock when you physically cannot take having in him your throat anymore. The capo relaxes his hand as you pull off his cock, sputtering and coughing as more cum drips down your chin. You swallow what you can, drawing in deep breaths in an effort to gather yourself. “Easy, easy,” Risotto speaks softly to you, loosening his grip on your hair and petting the back of your head gently instead. As you gaze up at him, you can’t help but smile. He returns the gesture, giving you a small smirk. His hand moves from the back of your head to your chin, tilting your face up at him. “I love you so much,” he professes. “Thank you for doing that for me.” 

“If you thought that this was just for you, then you are mistaken,” you reply wittily, still trying to regain your breath. “But you are welcome. I love you too, Ris.” 

Risotto strokes your chin with his thumb lovingly. “Likewise. Why don’t you let me get a towel for your face?” he says, the smooth bass of his voice vibrating in your ears. You nod enthusiastically. He plants a kiss on the top of your head before he crawls out of bed. 

[lady-literature]

Teen Titans

i had no ideas for Texting yesterday so i made today’s prompt longer instead

@maribatmarch-2k21​​ | find more here

She and Adrien are fourteen years old when Master Fu sends them to join the Teen Titans.

There’s precious little for them back in Paris. Only good friends whose paths through life have deviated from their own. She and Adrien keep in touch with their old team, but it’s not the same as having them at their side.

Marinette misses them like an ache.

But Beast Boy was persistent and Starfire was friendly and Robin was so similar to her it’s like looking in a mirror sometimes—it wasn’t long at all before the Titans started to feel like a family, like something that could be called home. The Titans were the brothers and sisters of her heart just as much as they were in arms.

But then, a little over a year after they've settled in, Red X shows up and Marinette is suddenly reminded of all the times Alya had complained about her many siblings.

“You know,” Chat says to the Titans at large, “this is the fourth run-in with Red X in a row, that he’s hit on Ladybug.”

Ladybug’s face is already in her hands. “Oh, Kwami. Not this again.”

“I’m just saying-”

“But what if you didn’t?” she interrupts. “What if we just didn’t do that?”

“-that Red X is definitely crushing on you!”

“You gotta admit, Spots.” Beast Boy slings an arm around Chat’s shoulders, a matching expression of glee blooming across his face. “He does seem to have a soft spot for you. I can practically see the heart eyes he’s making through that mask.”

“Absolutely not,” she insists. “You stop this right now, Red X has not and will not ever ‘make heart eyes’ at me.”

Starfire tilts her head, finger at her chin as she thinks. “But he flirts with you an awful lot, does he not? He just now called you ‘bewitching’ and ‘fiery’, both of which are compliments, yes?”

“Don’t forget all the poetry her recites!” Chat adds.

Starfire nods, even though Ladybug knows she doesn’t quite understand Earth poetry nor its connotations. “So does that not mean he likes you in the romantic way?”

“No, it doesn’t,” Ladybug says the same time Chat and Beast Boy chorus, “Yes!”

Starfire blinks. “I am confused.”

“Red X is hitting on Ladybug,” Cyborg leans over to explain, “And she doesn’t want to admit she likes it because he’s technically a villain.”

The sound she makes is distinctly inhuman. Had it been anyone but the Titans next to her, she’s sure it would’ve sent them running. But it was the Titans, so they only find her distress amusing.

Even Raven has the ghost of a smile hovering at her lips, which is practically her equivalent of the manic grin Chat and Beast Boy are sporting.

“Are we talking about the same person?” she exclaims, arms flung out like she’s expecting an answer from the universe itself. “The thief who’s put our lives in danger multiple times? Whose morals are questionable at best and destructively self-serving at worst?”

“We never said your taste in men was good, LB,” Raven quips flatly.

“Damn,” Beast Boy exclaims, drawing out the word to several syllables and extending his hand for a high-five—which Raven ignores. He shrugs and high-fives Chat instead. “She’s right though.”

“I do not like him,” she all but growls at her soon-to-be ex-friends.

“I think the lady doth protest too much,” Chat stage whispers to Beast Boy who nods sagely.

She turns to Robin, who’s been silent thus far and has… complex feelings about Red X, both from his own time in the suit and its new owner. If anyone was going to be on her side, it would be him. Or, if not her side, he at least wouldn’t tease her about fictional flirtations.

She gives him the most pitiful look she can manage, begging him to take mercy on her.

“Well,” he starts, “you wouldn’t be the first hero I know to fall for a thief.”

Her expression abruptly sours. If looks could kill, Robin would be dead ten times over with each way more brutal than the last.

“I hate all of you,” she says decisively, shrugging Chat off with ease since he’s too busy laughing to resist her properly. “You guys are the worst.”

“Nooo!” he yells after her through his giggling, “Bugaboo, come back!”

“Don’t leave us for Red X!” Beast Boy shouts dramatically, “Please, we’ll treat you better, we promise!”

She flips them off over her shoulder and promises to herself that she’ll never complain about Alya’s grossing anymore when they facetime. Siblings are the worst.

(She also, unfortunately, wouldn’t trade them for the world.)

***

BONUS:

Marinette finds flowers on her desk every Friday. Giant bouquets of red and black and white, signed only with a simple ‘X’ as if she hadn’t already known who it was from.

Logically, she knows this is a problem. It means Red X has a way past the Tower’s security system, that there’s a hole in their security and it’s being exploited on a regular basis which is dangerous-

But today she finds camellia blossoms and tulips by her window, Tikki already nuzzling at the largest bloom, and Marinette is not worried or scared. Red X can get in whenever he wants, has access to their home at all times, and instead of attacking or stealing something important, he leaves her flowers.

(She’s checked. Thoroughly. Multiple times.)

Perhaps she should tell her teammates, but she knows how they would act, what they would say. She has no desire to deal with their teasing and thinly veiled insinuations. They’d be unbearable if they knew Red X was doing something so conventionally romantic—and worse still if they knew how long she’d been hiding it.

If they’re going to overreact no matter what, it won’t hurt to keep it a secret for just a little longer, would it?

Marinette raises a camellia blossom to her nose and sighs.

Later, she thinks. I’ll tell them later.

***

BONUS BONUS:

It’s unfortunate Marinette had forgotten that not all things worth being stolen can be bought or sold.

Red X is a thief of the highest caliber and just because he hasn’t stolen something yet, does not mean he isn’t trying to. He is indeed seeking to steal something from the Titans, but it is not weapons or jewelry he’s after. Rather, the great Red X, has his sights on something far more precious.

He is seeking to steal a heart.

(It’s only fair, he thinks, considering she stole his first.)

[justholdingstill]

First is a pop and a scratch; there is a breath of quiet, long and deep. Then there is a heartbeat, drumming steady, growing louder and more urgent as the seconds tick by.

His fingers are nimble and practiced--graceful, even--despite the scars and calluses layered over one another, despite the pinky finger that was broken and healed months ago and which no longer moves quite the way it was meant to. They are beautiful hands. Steady, firm. Castiel has seen them stitch wounds and field strip guns and dissect vegetables for dinner, all with the same precise efficiency that they now apply to the task at hand.

He exhales through his nose; the heartbeat blends itself into a brief, confusing jumble of noises that resolve into a jarring wail and then melt, almost improbably, into the first lazy guitar chord of the album, which ripples its way down his spine like a physical thing. If pressed to describe the sensation, he would call it warm and liquid and highly gratifying. Tingly, even. It makes him shudder and sigh out loud.

Nobody asks, but he says so anyway. Dean laughs at him. “You are, like...you are really fucking high, huh, sweetheart?” 

He licks the glue on the rolling paper and twists his handiwork just a bit tighter, presenting it to Castiel with the corner of his mouth ticked up. His eyes are very red. “You sure you wanna smoke another one?”

“I was under the impression that being ‘really fucking high’ was the sole purpose of this endeavour, Dean,” Castiel tells him coolly. He makes a broad, dismissive gesture, discovering as he does so that there’s still a chocolate chip cookie in his hand.

“All right, all right, preaching to the choir here, buddy.” Dean fumbles for his lighter, the flame briefly illuminating the planes of his face as he tilts it down toward the cradle of his hands. There’s the syrupy-sharp tang of smoke on the air again after a moment; Castiel chews his cookie and watches in fascination as Dean parts his lips (just as beautiful as those hands--as every inch of him, really) to let it spill out between them in a languorous white plume, as lingering as revelation and as heady as desire. He coughs a little bit at the end of the exhale, chuckling at himself this time before he waves the joint in Castiel’s face. “Your turn. And quit bogarting those, I had a hard enough time hiding half the batch from Jack and Sam.”

Reluctantly, Castiel trades Dean for the plastic container and tries not to be too distracted by the way he dives into the cookies with gusto, shoving one into his mouth practically whole with a bone-deep hum of satisfaction. Castiel occupies himself with dropping back into the pillows as he takes a few careful drags, his eyes catching on the record cover that Dean had been using as a rolling surface, forgotten in his lap.

“Is this considered homosexual music?”

Dean chokes, clapping a hand over his mouth so he doesn’t spray crumbs. Once he’s calmed himself enough to swallow, he reaches over to pluck the joint back and eyes Castiel warily. “Not really, I guess? Why would you ask that?”

“There’s a--a prism. On the cover. A rainbow. And when we went to Pride with Charlie you said that rainbows are often used by the ‘gay community’--”

“Not again with the fucking air quotes,” Dean interjects.

“...fine, gay community. You said that rainbows can a way for the gay community to acknowledge and recognize each other. Is this gay music?”

Dean belly-laughs at that, though not unkindly. “Nah, man,” he says, still grinning, “I’m pretty sure that Pink Floyd are pretty damn straight. Although, what do I know for sure? Sometimes it’s just some cool imagery.”

Castiel nods. He mulls this over as Dean smokes, his face warming when Dean crowds up into his personal space to share his breath with Castiel, lung to lung, so nearly mouth to mouth. Dean has told him on previous occasions that this is called “shotgunning”, but he’s not sure why; it clearly has no relation to either firearms or violence, but that hardly seems to matter when it brings Dean so close, the green of his eyes bright and intent with something that Castiel had once thought he’d never have a name for.

Dean sucks in more air, and then he’s kissing Castiel for real, soft and wet, luxuriating in it. This--this lights up Castiel’s nerves just as much as the music does, more, pleasure pooling and igniting wherever Dean’s body is in contact with his own, waves of it rolling and breaking through his whole nervous system. It’s overwhelming, especially in combination with the female vocalist reaching for some explosive notes, now, singing as if they’re being physically tugged from the center of her chest by an unseen hand.

Castiel thinks he might understand how that feels.

“Jesus,” Dean gasps, breaking away to flop down beside him, raking a hand through his own hair. He dissolves into giggles, and Castiel can’t help but laugh with him. “I am blitzed, man. This is embarrassing.”

“I’m the only other person here,” Castiel feels obligated to point out, nuzzling at his ear, “and I have literally seen your soul at its barest and at its lowest. Is this really what embarrasses you?”

“Shut up,” Dean says, muffled because he’s hiding his face in Castiel’s shoulder, blushing so hard that he might as well be glowing. Castiel can actually feel the warmth of it radiating through the cotton of his shirt; it makes him want.

“So this,” he says, hesitant, picking up the earlier thread of their conversation. “This--you only do it with me. Not with Sam. Not with Charlie or Jody--at least not like this. But these, um. These... meetings...aren’t about us, about what--what we do together?”

“Jesus,” Dean groans again, rolling his eyes, adding a heartfelt, “Christ.” He hauls himself up off the bed and strips off his shirt, gesturing at Castiel to do the same. “Take your damn clothes off already, man.” He seems to catch himself on how that sounds, because he pauses with one hand on the buckle of his belt before shaking his head, grinning at some private joke. “I mean, yeah, I guess it’s a little bit about that. But no, Cas, we don’t hang out smoking weed and listening to the classics because it’s some kind of agenda, because you and I are, uh...you know. Because rainbows,” he offers, very careful to look anywhere but directly at Cas.

Castiel tilts his head, listening, and when he doesn’t speak, Dean blusters on. “No, it’s ‘cause you’re stuck with me, you know? Stuck with us, stuck here, stuck human...I guess I just figure if you’ve gotta take the lumps of it, the sore backs and the seasonal colds and the, the shitty truck stop coffee of it all, you should have some of the good stuff, too. If I’m not the one to teach you the finer points of stoner rock, ok, who will? It’s not all bad here, and I just want to make sure you know that.”

Finished with his speech, Dean grabs awkwardly for another cookie, presumably to stop himself from rambling any further. Something light and fond unfurls itself inside Castiel; he reaches out to draw Dean down into his arms again. “I assure you, Dean,” he says gravely, “I am absolutely certain of it.” Dean offers him a bite, which he accepts with equal gravity.

All of their kisses are delicious, to be fair, but they are undeniably more delightful chased with chocolate.

“Anyway,” Dean says with his mouth full, “take your fucking pants off. You wanna talk gay music? It’s gonna be Night at the Opera next, and that’s really gonna bake your noodle.”

_________________

Read it here on AO3! 

[dreamyjoons]

Our ‘Get Along’ Shirt - pjm

⇢ another day, another endless round of you and Jimin bickering. It’s never ending, all-consuming, and your friends have had enough. Namjoon decides to end it once and for all - with help from a shirt for squabbling toddlers.

Genre/warnings: smut, 18+! ‘enemies’-to-lovers, swearing, semi-public smut, mutual masturbation, fingering, honestly at this point a sweat kink, multiple orgasms, light choking, some spitting, unprotected sex, creampie.

Words: 14.2k lol

A/N: well hello! I’m back baby, and to celebrate i had to exorcise some Jimin demons. Did i talk about him sweating a lot? Yes. Did i use my favourite pic of him for the header? Also yes. Don’t @ me, i already know. I hope you enjoy!!!

"You're so wrong about this, it's actually kind of embarrassing."

"No you're wrong, only an idiot would think the way you do."

"Guys, no one - and I really mean this - no one cares about what kind of cups you need for beer pong. You've been arguing this for like twenty minutes now." Hoseok huffs, sitting back into the couch.

"Eighteen minutes." Namjoon sighs, tipping back his cup and gulping down its contents.

"But solo cups are far superior-"

"Jimin, they aren't!" You snap, dragging your glare away from his rolling eyes, deciding you never wanna look at him ever again.

"Please stop." Jungkook sighs, slipping off the chair beside Hoseok. His eyes flick between you before scanning the rest of the people in the room, slowly moving to the thump of the music. "Gonna find Yoongi and Tae." He mumbles before disappearing through the mass of bodies.

You'd been at the house party for less than three minutes before you and Jimin found a reason to have an argument. At first, it was how late you were - even though you found out he only got there five minutes before you. Then when you commented on the music choices to Yoongi, he found a way to disagree - despite you both knowing he loved the artist. On and on it went. Now here you were; Namjoon and Hoseok on the couch watching you both with bored expressions, Jin tuned out and typing rapidly on his phone beside them. Jimin stood to your left, and you made sure to keep him totally out of your sight.

But it was getting harder to hear him, thankfully. And he was losing steam. The house was crowded and loud, lively dancers everywhere and the smell of alcohol rich in the air. It was already way too hot out, but being stuffed inside at this party was causing everyone to sweat. You could see condensation forming on the walls.

The house was huge and expensively decorated, belonging to some producer friend of Namjoon. Marbled floors met white walls, a rug carpet covering the floor that made you wince when you thought about the price. It was sprawling and full of a ridiculous number rooms. Yet still, people had to squeeze between the spaces, excuses and polite taps lost in the fury of heat and confinement.

You held your can to your forehead to cool yourself down but it had grown warm waiting for you and Jimin to finish your current spout. You grimace but take a sip anyway - at least if you get a buzz you can ignore him for a little. You felt a pit of guilt at making Jungkook leave. But you were riled up, and you couldn't back down. Not to Jimin.

You saw Jimin tip his head back to drink out of the corner of your eye, but you daren't look at him. He was as insufferable as he was hot as hell, and not just in temperature.

However, you had managed to take a better look at him earlier in the night. His beige silk shirt was already sticking to his skin, tucked into tight jeans blacker than you had ever seen. Who wears silk to a house party? The necklace that he always wore sat just below his collarbones, and you're reminded of all the times you've wanted to throttle him with that damn chain. He'd been pushing his dark hair back all night - you could tell by how it fell about his face, silky strands falling into his eyes. Was he wearing some kind of lipgloss too? You grumble into your drink. He was too pretty for his own good.

At first the sparring was fun. There was an attraction there, on your part at least. It was spicy, something hot and fast, a way to see how compatible you were. Maybe you had some feelings for him. Possibly, potentially.

But over time it devolved. It felt like he'd say things just to get a rise out of you, to draw your attention into a battle with him. And now here you were, bitterly avoiding the man's existence.

"God, why is it so hot here?" Jin gasps, blotting his face with his sleeve.

"Probably haven't got the air con on." Jimin shrugs, taking a swig from his glass.

"It's on-" You start, eyes flicking to where you thought you could see a vent in the ceiling. It was open, so you assumed it would be on - it had to be.

"I highly doubt that."

Jimin gives you the look he always does - where he tilts his head back and stares into your soul. His plump lips part, tongue pressed behind his teeth, goading you into his trap. He gets his way every time.

"Why would they not have it on? It's burning hot even without a house full of people."

"Then it's clearly a crappy unit." He shrugs, but his words are quick and his eyes are still intensely focused on you.

"Jimin have you seen the rest of this house? Don't be dumb-"

"Shut up!"

You and Jimin spin to your friends who had all shouted in unison. The ones who could still stand to be around you both arguing, anyway. Several of the dancers that were nearby stopped to look at the exclamation but slowly drifted back into the music - albeit before taking a step further away from your group.

"Enough. I'm gonna put an end to this once and for all." Namjoon gets to his feet and strides away with purpose, standing a head above nearly everyone in the crowd.

You shiftily look at Jimin before silently waiting for Namjoon to return, confusion thick in your brain. You awkwardly chewed on your lip as the seconds ticked by, before finally he stalks back, his bag under his arm.

He throws himself back into his seat, flips open the top of his bag and rifles through.

Finally he pulls out a heap of bright yellow material, and with a small noise, he dumps his bag beside him before bolting up. He unravels the material and holds it up to you, grin growing on his face.

It takes you a few seconds to focus on what he is holding out to you and Jimin - but when you realise, you gasp.

"'Our get along shirt'? Namjoon you've gotta be joking." you splutter, scanning the shirt.

It was a sickly yellow, 'our get along shirt' printed on it in what appeared to be black glitter. It could probably fit both you and Jimin in it, maybe Yoongi could slip in too. It looked somewhat roomy, but that was not the point.

"What?" Jimin asks, lips parted as he stares into the glitter.

"You're both gonna wear it and get over whatever bullshit is going on here." Namjoon says so casually, as if he was asking the time or giving directions. But you saw the seriousness in the minute movements of his face. The clench on his jaw, the hardiness of his eyes.

"We're adults Namjoon, you can't expect us to wear that." Jimin's face had gone into a full blush, but his frown was deep as he stared at Namjoon.

"You are both gonna wear it."

"No-" You shout, but Namjoon pointedly huffs at you, and you take the hint.

"Put the shirt on. By the end of the night, either one of you will have killed the other or you have this sorted out. Because if not, you'll end up pushing us all away. For good." Namjoon finishes with a sigh, the depth of his gaze so severe it confirms that he isn’t playing with you.

You look behind him at Jin and Hoseok, and the direction in which Jungkook had walked away. Jin and Hoseok looked deadly serious, no hint of a smile or a cackle of laughter like you'd expect.

He had a point. You knew it. But it was so hard - Jimin couldn't let things lie, and you couldn't back away from a fight when it was him you were fighting. But to see others dropping out from around you...

"Hand over the shirt."

You spin to stare at Jimin. His face was tight, jaw set and eyebrows drawn. It had dawned on him too, just how far this had gone. But he obviously didn't like the idea of it, and neither did you.

"Fine but if I do kill him I’m taking you all down with me as accessories." You sigh, reaching forward and taking the shirt from Namjoon.

“How long have you had this, Joon?” Jimin asks, fiddling with the rings on his fingers.

“Long enough.”

You turn it in your hands and with a deep breath, you pull the shirt over your head, sticking your arm through the sleeve and head through the collar. Your left arm hangs loosely in the shirt, and you begin to fret about what you should do with it. Maybe you should just stick it in your pocket? You don't wanna brush anything-

Before you could follow that train of thought, Jimin tugs you and the shirt towards him. You follow, gulping thickly. He casts one last look at Namjoon before putting his head under the bottom of the shirt. within seconds his head is through the collar, his shoulder bumping yours as he tries to get comfortable.

The air is thick around you, the extra warmth of him being so close to you making the heat rise on your face. You were strongly aware of every microscopic move he makes, your senses keenly aware of his proximity. He lets out a harsh sigh, and you feel the breath ripple over the collar and down the shirt. A pout settles on his lips, glossy and wholly enticing - and entirely too close.

His face was inches from yours, shoulders stuck rigidly together as you subtly wrestle for space. The shirt was obviously made for kids, and much smaller than you had originally anticipated. Two kids would be able to almost comfortably stand side by side. You and Jimin had barely enough excess shirt, but the collar was far too small. His hand grazes mercilessly across your thigh, the hardness of his rings pressing into the material of your jeans.

You hear a click of a camera, and your attention snaps up to see Hoseok taking a photo of you both on his phone. With both you and Jimin glaring at him, he snaps another and giggles.

"One for Jungkook." He grins, before flipping his phone to you.

Instinctively you step forward to look, but the lack of space drags Jimin along with you. He crashes into your back, a steadying hand reaching out for your hip, a strangled grunt by your ear. You choke on your breath, and weakly tug at the collar as if it was the cause of your shock.

His hand is warm, the heat pulsating from his palm across your hip. If you weren't sweating before, you definitely were now. You shuffle back a little, easing the tension in the shirt that tugged tightly against you. Jimin brings up a hand and anxiously pushes his hair back from his face, his jaw set so sharply you could cut your finger on it.

"Well, there's bound to be a few teething problems but I'm sure you'll both work it out." Namjoon smiles, eyes bright and full of mischief. "Come on boys, let's give them some space."

You give Namjoon the fiercest glare you could muster before he walks away, but all he does is chuckle at you. Hoseok waves brightly whilst Jin merely winks - until soon all that remained was you and Jimin, hot, flustered and already tired of it all.

"Okay, now that they're gone-" Jimin mutters, twisting in the shirt so that his back was against you. You shuffle back as not to touch him, your mind a hazy hot mess.

Your hand dances threateningly close to his ass so you snatch it up to your chest, staring at the ceiling and holding back an agonised groan.

He brings his hands up and after a few seconds you hear a loud rip.

You snap your head to him to see that he'd ripped the collar almost to the end of the shoulder, giving you more space. You let out a breath and you both adapted to the space, but his shoulder was still brushing you. At least his face was at a less dangerous distance from yours now.

"Do... you wanna sit?" He asks quietly, A faint pinky blush crossing his cheeks. You forced your eyes away, determined not to be distracted.

"Jimin, Namjoon's gonna flip about the shirt."

"No he won't-"

"Yes, he will-"

"Ah, can we just sit?."

You huff, weighing his words before silently nodding, moving forward slowly to give him time to get his brain in gear. He stepped behind you and you shuffled around so that you wouldn't be sat under him.

"Okay sit." You order, and to your surprise he followed your words. You both crash back into the couch, his arms pressing back against you, his legs spread and pressed against yours.

You sit, the silence stretching. You finally get the smell of his cologne, the silk of his shirt sleeve brushing against your arm. It was filling your senses, and though it had only been seconds, this was stretching for an eternity.

And there were all those emotions you felt towards him, rushing to the surface, bubbling beneath your skin.

"Okay this is dumb, why are we doing this?" You grumble, slamming your head back against the cushions, desperate to be away from his heady scent.

He looks at you out of the corner of his eyes, so you pointedly avoid meeting his gaze.

"Because we don't want to lose our friends." His voice is low, the cogs turning in his head.

"Yes I know that, but why do we have to 'sort our problems' from inside the same damn t-shirt?" You snap.

"I... don't know. But I'm not gonna lose friends. Them or you - so get used to being stuck in this shirt with me."He purses his lips in thought, but you’re struck by his words.

"Well it's you who's stuck in here with me." You snark, unable to stop yourself before you say it.

He huffs out a laugh through his nose, and you can’t help but smile. You finally meet his eyes, and like a kid caught doing something he shouldn’t, he snaps his eyes away.

“So we have to like… work on our problems?”

“Apparently.” He murmurs, throwing himself back into the seat.  

The temperature feels ten times hotter than when you weren’t sharing clothing. Your hair sticks to your skin and you shift uncomfortably. Everywhere you touched him felt like it was on fire, every sensor in your body and edge and firing. You force yourself to breathe, in and out. Park Jimin was not going to get the better of you.

But he seemed affected too.

His swallows are thick, adam’s apple bobbing with each gulp. You could see his ringed finger tapping in his leg whilst his other hand was pushing back his hair a little more aggressively than usual.

“So uh…” He starts, but tapers off when you look at him.

“Yeah?”

The seconds tick on, the gap between you non-existent. You avert your eyes and try to focus on the crowd that swirls around you.

You couldn’t help but notice the fact that things were going well. No issues were being resolved per se, but you hadn’t fought properly for a few minutes. And for you both, that was progress. Even if every word that comes to your mind flights away, leaving the silence to stretch.

“Maybe-”

“How about-”

You both blurt words at the same time, letting out an embarrassed laugh as you squarely avoid looking at each other. The music seems louder, making it harder to think about anything that wasn’t directly in your senses. Essentially you were stuck in a Jimin lockdown.

“You go.”

“Oh, I was just going to say I’m gonna need a drink or two for this.” you confess, heat burning across your face.

“That’s… Not a bad idea actually. Let’s go to the kitchen.” Jimin rushes, a little too enthusiastically. It seems like he’s a little on edge too.

Without thinking he tries to stand up, causing you to get ruffled inside the shirt as he staggers to his feet. You’re ripped through the collar of the shirt, your face getting knocked into his hip. Your eyes widen and your breath catches in your throat as he’s slingshotted back into the chair beside you. Your head reemerges through the hole, leaving your hair vigorously disheveled.

“I-, I’m sorry!” He grits, a reddish blush bursting across his cheeks.

You bring up your hand inside the shirt to touch it to your face whilst the other tries to right whatever mess your hair had become.

“It’s fine, just, we gotta move as one.” You mumble, flicking your gaze at him.

“Agh, this isn’t gonna be easy.” He sighs, shuffling to the edge of the chair.

You take a deep breath and follow his lead. You put a tentative hand on the couch to shuffle yourself to the edge, but jimin had the same idea. He puts his hands on top of yours, but instantly snatches it back. He mumbles to himself before turning and giving you a nod. With a steadying breath you both move, almost effortlessly getting off the couch together. It takes you by surprise at how straightforward that was, until the clatter of a noise reaches your ears over the din of the music.

Following the rattle of the noise you look down, only to watch your phone skittering across the floor.

“Oh, shit.” You murmur, watching it stop out of reach. “Jimin, my phone!”

He follows your gaze to where it lays on the floor, narrowly avoiding being stepped on by dancers. Your heart flutters as people step around it, totally unaware.

“Go, go!” He mutters, placing the palm of his hand at the bottom of your back, steering you towards it.

You flush as you’re pushed through, stopping just above it. You’re both jostled by the people around you as you stand guard above your phone. People were dancing dangerously close to it,and all it would take is one drunken fool to stamp on it or you for this to end in disaster.

“Okay let’s drop, carefully this time!” you order, but Jimin scoffs at you.

“I’m trying to be careful!”

“Just don't thrash me about again, that would be nice-”

“I’m not doing it on purpose! I can if you want me to-”

“Oh my god, stop, just bend over and help me!”

“That sounds dirt-”

He starts, but before you let him manifest that in your mind you start to crouch, the force pulling him down to bump his chest into your back. The heat of him crashing into you is instant, an insatiable warmth that spreads in contact. He puts a stabilising hand on your hips as his breath rolls across the back of your neck. A shiver trickles down your body despite trying to hold it back.

“What did you do that for?” He grunts, his mouth closer to your ear as he tries to rebalance himself.

“Y- you’re taking too long trying to argue!”

He presses himself off your back and shuffles down beside you. You finally get crouched on the floor, tentative hands placed on the sticky surface to stop you from toppling over. Jimin crouches next to you, his body facing yours with his leg behind you, tight against your back. It was hard to stay focused with him pressed against you like that, but you know he was just trying to stay stable. So why were you blushing so hard?

Carefully you reach out, your fingers just brushing the edge of the phone. You’re just able to get your fingers over the edge when you’re slammed from the side. Your phone is knocked out of your reach once more as you’re thrown onto Jimin, both of you landing in a tangled heap.

You let out a yelp as you’re falling, the impact to the side of you bristling with shock. His back hits the floor and you land awkwardly, right on top of him.

“Watch what you’re doing, you moron!” Jimin snaps after your head slaps onto his shoulder.

Your heart slams erratically against your chest, his words stinging. You’d come to blows many more times than you can imagine, but he’d never spoken to you in that way, not ever.

“God, I’m sorry.” you murmur, pressing yourself up off his chest, your face practically aflame.

“What? Oh, no no, not you! Whichever idiot smacked into you. Are you alright?“ He asks, his fingers gently gripping your chin and turning you gently in his hands.

Your eyes are wide as he stares at you, your fingers twitching on the silk covering his chest. Once he’s satisfied that you’re okay, he softly releases you. You bring your gaze back to his, beads of sweat rolling down your face.

Jimin looks down to his hand and back up to you after realising what he had just done, before he clenches his fist closed and puts it down to his side. His forehead is creased, his face burning bright.

“We should… ah, should get your phone.” His voice is low, barely audible above the music. But you hear him all the same, stealing your hand back from his chest.

You swallow thickly, stabilizing yourself as you crouched back on your own two feet. Your phone isn’t too far out of reach, but just beyond the touch of your fingertips. You strain, tugging Jimin along behind you. His throat is pulled against your shoulder, but it was no good, you still needed the stretch.

“Hold on.” You mumble, slipping your head out from underneath the collar.

You keep your arm inside the shirt sleeve for plausible deniability - you’d never be able to lie to Namjoon if he asks if you stayed in. But you pull your head out from the bottom of the shirt and reach out, gripping your phone and snatching it up. You shove it in your deepest pocket of your jeans and pat it, relieved.

You crawl back to Jimin and try to climb back into the shirt. He throws the bottom over your head and you push it through - only to slam your head into his arm.

“Ah, sorry!” You yelp, trying to push yourself past him.

He tries to guide your head back up through the collar but manages to get his rings caught in your hair. You yelp at the tug, your hands flying up to untangle him.

“Sorry, sorry!” He shouts, bringing his other hands up to slide his rings off altogether.

Once they’re off his fingers it’s easier to free your hair. With the rings tucked safely in his pocket and with gentle easing, Jimin moves your head up to the collar of the shirt. You rapidly brush your hair out of your face and look at him out of the corner of your eye.

He’s flustered, roughly pushing the hair that sticks to his sweaty forehead back. His lips are parted and his eyes are fixed away from you.

Briefly, the thought of just running away from him crossed your mind. There’d be no more issues if you never saw his face again. No more embarrassment! Of course it was a silly idea, but it would be better than getting the opportunity to make yourself look like an idiot again.

You huff out a breath, blotting your damp forehead with the back of your hand. Your brush with the floor had left your clothes feeling sticky, and your brush against Jimin had set everything else on fire. You needed some fresh ai-

“It’s too hot for this, I need some air.” Jimin shifts in his spot, gesturing to the backdoor that was through the kitchen and blocked by a thick group of party goers. You follow the direction he points and nod enthusiastically.

“I wanna grab some water too.” You murmur. Ignoring his presence.

The people that stood between the cloying heat that you and Jimin were trapped in and the cooler climate outside were dense. You’d have to fight through, but the reward of fresher air to clear your head of Jimin was too tantalising.

With a look at Jimin, he motions with his hand for you to proceed. You roll your eyes at the gesture but you take a cautious step forward, slow and deliberate.

You started pushing your way through, bodies warm and fluid as you tried to champion the way. Jimin got ganged much closer to you, practically pressing into your back as you moved. You focus on finding a path ahead, ignoring the beads of sweat that form in your hairline.

Something had changed between you. This is the closest you had been together, the most you had touched, the longest you had been alone. And you wanted to hate it. You certainly hated how messy he must think you are. But you didn’t. A trickle of something different slides down your body, all your attention focused on his hand on you.

The music changes to something even louder and riles the crowd up. With a swell of movements in the dancers you’re sent flying, knocked by some erratic dancer’s elbow. With the force of the shirt Jimin is dragged with you, crashing into your back and pinballing you against another person.

Subconsciously you turn back to him - but as soon as you’re pressed together, you realise how big a mistake that was.

Stomach to stomach, his face is barely an inch or two from yours. His fingers wrap around your wrist, chest rising and falling as you stare at him.

The sweat that had rolled down his face had reached his throat, dropping down the column and hovering at his apple. The minutest of smirks pulls at his lips, and you realise you’ve been caught.  

He swallows, purposely. The bead rolls the rest of the way down his throat, dropping below his necklace before disappearing down the neckline of his shirt. The silk was clinging to his skin in the heat, and it took every ounce of dignity you had not to look down. You could see in your periphery, and that was more than enough. The man was hot, in every sense.

Your eyes flick back up, a different kind of heat burning up your face. You anxiously lick your lips, eyes finally meeting his. He has an eyebrow propped, a smugness radiating that let your blood boil. But his gaze drops to your mouth, watching your tongue gloss across your lip before looking back up. You can feel his breath hit your chest as his cheeks flushed more than they ever had. Now you were the one to have an audience.

Maybe this was it - the answer. You just needed a moment for everything to click, you could reach an understanding! It had nothing to do with how his stare left you feeling like you could burst in every way possible. Or that his pupils seemed to be blown wide, big enough for you to swim in. His fingers were hot against your wrist, and it felt almost as if his pinky was tracing the tiniest circles into your skin-

“I need the bathroom.”

The words are blurted loudly in your face, and for a moment you forget what reality is.

“I- what?”

“Bathroom. Gotta go. Bathroom stuff.” Jimin splutters.

Before you can respond - not that you knew how to -  he turns from you. His hand still holds your wrist as he pulls you through the crowd, uncaring as to who he pushes aside. All you can do is stare at the back of his hair and be lead.

“Jimin what the hell?!” You yell, ignoring the glares of the nosy partiers.

Your voice is lost, muffled by loud music and Jimin's deaf focus. You finally break free from the throng of people but your journey doesn't end. You're being whipped past busy rooms until you hit the staircase. The odd person watches you in fascination, some even snickering at what was written so plainly in glitter on the shirt. you felt your face burn, and make a silent note to fight Namjoon at the soonest opportunity.

He begins scurrying up the staircase, and with your wrist still firmly in his iron grip, you're soon flying up behind him. He casts a shifty look behind him to check you were still attached, his face flushed but his eyes focused. You have to remember to regulate your breathing.

"God, careful!" You snap, almost stumbling on the top step.

He doesn't acknowledge that he hears you, but then he slows for a second before darting down the winding corridor. He rushes into one of the rooms, a sprawling guest bedroom, before finally letting your wrist drop from his grip. It was almost bigger than your entire place, with an ensuite and even a door leading out to a balcony.

You close the door behind you before Jimin drags you towards the ensuite. Once he's at the open door he pulls his arms through the sleeve and slips out from the shirt. You know you're in the privacy of a bedroom but you suddenly get nervous, eyes turning to the bedroom door.

"We're gonna get in trouble." You murmur. Namjoon is a mind reader, you’d stake your life on it - he'll know you're separated and find you.

"You gotta relax. We're not gonna be spotted through floors and walls. Unless you wanna come in here with me?" He asks, that trademark smirk pulling at his lips. Your stomach flutters, but it is a relief to have a flash of the jimin who pushes your buttons back.

"I -wha- no! Just hurry up, god." You splutter, turning your back to him.

"I won't be long."

With that he saunters back, his cheeks blown out as he sighs, and finally closes the door for some sweet separation. You step back and move to the balcony - the door was unlocked so you push it open and finally breathe.

The air is still warm, but instant relief from being cooped up inside with Jimin washes over you. You close your eyes and soak up the moment of peace, the shirt hanging off your solitary frame.

Your brain was barely processing the situation you were both in. It was enough being stuck in the same item of clothing as someone, but with Jimin? It was hard.

But then again, it was also easy. It was too easy to get wrapped up in him, to be so close, to let yourself be taken with him. It was a place you had hoped to be before, and somewhere you couldn’t go.

You and Jimin were tumultuous. You weren’t sure why it had to be that way. It’s not like either of you were toxic or nasty people - so why did you have to make a stand on everything? Why does every time you stand off with him make the hairs on your neck stand up, make your heart beat so fast in your chest you swear he could hear it?

Maybe it was because you did, after all this time, like him.  

You're snapped out of your thoughts by an erratic knocking at the door. You dart your eyes to it as if you could see through the solid wood, your heart in your throat.

"Y/N? Jimin? You there?" Namjoon calls through the door, and you swear under your breath.

"One second!" You cry, scrambling back from the door and scurry to the ensuite.

"Jimin! Open up!" You whisper at him, your voice a hurried rasp.

"What?"

"I'm coming in!" You wait a few seconds just in case, and then finally throw the door open.

"Y?N!" Jimin yells, scrambling back against the basin.

He was standing with his silk shirt in his hands, His lips parted in shock as he stares at you. His chest was heaving, the faintest glimmer of abs visible behind the thin fabric. Your face was burning almost as much as his, your jaw dropping. His hair was tousled, strands covering his wide eyes as he stared at you.

"Wh... Why are you topless?" Your breath is barely above a whisper as you fight to keep your eyes on his face.

"It's so hot!”

“I’m hot! Do you see me taking my clothes off?” You rush, using every ounce of restraint in your body to not lick your lips.

The thought of you and Jimin taking your clothes off together flashed through your mind and you internally screamed at yourself. This was not the time to unpack that, though you’d be lying if you said the thought hadn’t crossed your mind before.

“Wah- uh, you... I was trying to cool dow- why are you barging in here?!" He rushes, taking a hasty step towards you. To have to sort through your frazzled thoughts before you remember why you were there in the first place.

"Namjoon! He's at the door!" As if to accentuate your point, Namjoon raps on the door again, calling out to you both.

"Agh!" Jimin cries, rushing forward and grabbing the hem of the shirt you still wore.

He begins to get into it as he pushes you towards the door. You could feel the horror fill your veins as the heat of his body slips in beside you, his hand at the small of your back as he guides you. Your arm brushes against his bare hip, the skin hot and smooth. You snatch your arm up and hold it against your chest as if burned and ignore the rapid change in your breathing.

"Why haven't you put your shirt on?!" You whisper, but he just huffs.

"To save time, Now show me your pretty smile and let's get rid of him so I can get dressed." Jimin's hand is on the door, and all you can do is stare at him, eyes wild.

"My wha-"

The door flies open, but you're still staring at Jimin. Pretty...?

"Well hello." Namjoon is leant against the doorframe, arms crossed as he gives you both a crooked grin. His eyes flicker to the room behind you, his eyes landing on the bed just beyond you both.

"Just needed the bathroom." Jimin rushes, hand once again settling in his hair.

"I didn't ask." His voice is light, but his eyes are fierce as he scans you both thoroughly.

"You were thinking about it, though." Jimin mutters. He tries to cross his arms at Namjoon, but with one arm under the shirt and one over he soon drops it. Your gaze was still stuck on him though. Pretty?

"How's the shirt working out, you both talking?" Namjoon asks, and you finally snap your attention to him. He's already watching you and raises an eyebrow. You scramble to stamp down your emotions, despite every nerve in your body sizzling.

"Oh yeah, we’re the best of friends now, right JimJam?" Your voice is bubblegum sweet, giving Jimin the goofiest smile you could muster.

"Totally! We've been braiding our hair and sharing juicy stories. We're basically besties."

Jimin beams at Namjoon, before stepping close and wrapping an arm around your waist to hug you. It was all part of the charade, of course. But as you're pulled back against his chest, you swear your heart could explode. His hand sits lightly on your hip, his every breath rolling down your neck. It didn’t matter that the move was practically hidden under the shirt.

"Yeah..." you laugh, but it's more of a choke as you pat his hand over the shirt and avoid meeting Namjoon's probing gaze.

Jimin clears his throat awkwardly behind you, his finger twitching on your hip. The heat between you swealters, every inch of your skin electric against his body.

Namjoon's eyes flick between you. You could see his thoughts brewing but they never pass his lips. Instead you and Jimin wait, his hands singeing your skin where they rested, his bare chest like fire against you.

"Well, I can see you're obviously working on something. But until you're actually convincing, you can stay in that shirt." He shrugs, grin widening across his face. With a final flick of his eyes, he pushes off the door frame and heads back towards the stairs.

"This is ridiculous Namjoon!" You yell at his back, crossing your arms across your stomach.

"Maybe - but you're both still wearing it." He smirks back over his shoulder.

You yell incoherent words at his back before huffing out a breath. Your fingers twitch in anger, putting a stubborn hand on your hip, the skin hot under your touch.

Faintly you realise the contact isn’t registering on your hip, and it isn’t until Jimin loosens his grip on you that you realise your hand had been resting on his. His hands fall from your body as he shuffles away, swallowing a throaty gulp.

You couldn’t look at him. It was all fun and games to begin with- oh, who were you kidding? This had been sucky, but something had shifted. You needed air, a chance to breathe, to not be tethered to the man that seems to haunt you.

“Need air.” Your voice a rasp as you step back into the room.

Jimin barely shuts the bedroom door before you’re marching to the balcony, not caring about whether you drag him along or not. Once you’re outside you heave in a breath, letting the air fill your lungs.

“That was too close.” You murmur, fiddling with the hem of the shirt.

“How was I supposed to know Namjoon would be keeping tabs?”

“I’m not blaming you Jimin! Why are you making this into an argument too?” You snap, your eyes fixed on the treeline on the edge of the property.

You feel him wriggling aggressively next to you, only to look back and see him climbing out of the shirt. You watch in horror as he slips out from under the sickly yellow material, keeping his bare back to you.

“What are you doing?” You yelp, scanning over the edge of the balcony for any sight of your friends. They couldn’t see you apart, they would never trust either of you again.

“What are we doing?”

“We’re meant to be working this out from inside the same ugly shirt-”

“No not right now. I mean, kind of. I just… Why did we let it get this far?”

You let his words hang in the air, your thoughts scattered. The thump of the music below drifts up to you, the mass of partygoers that stood out in the gardens laughing and chatting loudly. It seemed a world away from the tension that fills the air between you and Jimin.

He turns back to you with a look on his face so intense you can’t place it. But you could tell he was tightly wound - his shoulders were squared and his jaw was tight. He avoids making eye contact with you for as long as he can. But when he finally does, it was too easy to get lost in what you see there.

“We just argue, I guess.” you shrug, averting your eyes from his chest and stomach. This wasn’t the time to be fawning over him. It was hard - he was beautiful, there was no escape from that. It’s one of a million reasons you had liked him in the first place.

“You can't tell me you’re happy with that explanation.” He huffs, crossing his arms.

“Of course I’m not but what do you want me to say? You don’t like me, you’ve made that plain enough. Not everyone gets along.”

You bite your lip, admitting the words you’d been too scared to think out loud. But when you hear a faint gasp, your eyes shoot up to his face. His lips are parted, a look of abject shock written on his delicate features.

I d- I do like you.” His voice is so quiet you can barely hear him. But you do, and the words strike deep.

You can’t open yourself up to this right now. Namjoon will find a way to know that you’re both separated, and the rest of the guys will drift away. You want to be civil with Jimin, not have your entire soul bared open to him. You couldn’t survive that.

“Can you please put your shirt back on?” You mumble, your eyes laser-focused imploringly on his face, but he doesn't hear you, barrelling on.

“It’s not like I enjoy arguing with you!”

“Then why are you making it so difficult?” Your voice cracks, the hurt of your never ending battles threatening to surface.

“Do you know how hard it is to get your attention-“ he starts, his fast flow of words immediately cut off as he gawks at you, delicate fingers slamming over his lips.

“What?” You blurt, processing his words.

“No no, nothing! Forget it.” he shakes his hands at you, eyes wide and face blushing a deep pink.

“Jimin! What do you mean, get my attention?”

“I… yeah. We’re always with the guys, I guess I didn’t know how else to get you to focus on me.”

“Why?” Your voice is faint, a million thoughts crashing in your head.

“No, forget it!”

“Jimin!”

“Ah, I like you, okay?”

The air around you thickens, the distance between you a thousand miles yet still too close. Your heart thumps rapidly in your chest, your eyes wide as saucers and your skin prickled with goosebumps.

“You- huh?”

“I… like you. A lot. It happened pretty quickly.” He sighs, running a shaky hand through his hair.

"Why have you never told me?"

"Because it's humiliating as hell?" He laughs bitterly, his eyes darting to anywhere but you.

"Jimin..."

"No seriously. If I had told you, you'd reject me because why wouldn't you? All we do is argue."

"You think I'd reject you?" You ask, voice quiet as you step closer to him. His gaze finally snaps back to you at your movement.

"I mean, I... yeah?"

He runs a hand roughly over his face, turning his back to you. He looks so flawless in the moonlight. But he always looked flawless to you. Watching him fret like this was something so alien to you, but so human, so Jimin. You couldn’t let him suffer these feelings alone.

"Well, I wouldn't have." You mumble.

“You- what?”

Your brain scrambles, your heart hammering in your throat. He stares at you, wide eyes and chest heaving as if he was winded. Swallowing thickly you press on, despite the fear that churns in your gut.

“I wouldn’t reject you, Jimin. I… uh. I like you too.” You fiddle awkwardly with the hem of the stupid shirt.

The whole scenario had you feeling like a girl going through a childhood crush again. Though last time you had a crush on a boy who was fighting with you, you punched him in the nose. It was doubtful that would work this time around-

“Jimin?” You ask, watching as he shrinks back on himself.

You watch as he breathes, his chest rising and falling, the rapidly cooling night air raising goosebumps across his skin. It was hard to keep your brain on track.

After a moment he meets your gaze with a softness so potent it was enough to choke you.

In two steps he was on you, his lips crashing against yours. Your entire body threatens to shut down, the shock rippling through you. Before you even had a second to comprehend how good his lips felt against yours he pulls back, fear in his eyes as he worries.

You know then what you want. Who you want. You wondered why you wasted so long arguing to get it.

With your blood thrashing violently in your veins you reach your hands out to his face, caressing the smooth skin of his cheek before you surge forwards. The feel of the gloss on his lips smudges as you let yourself be consumed, the slightest hint of cherry seeping in.

Kissing Park Jimin. You. You’re kissing him. Your eyes slam shut as you sink into him, electricity crackling on your skin.

With no doubt in his mind at all Jimin slides his hands to your hips, fingers curling into the shirt as he moves you back, pushing you into the wall. You moan into his kiss, and he smirks against your lips. To trip him up you press the kiss deeper, letting the tip of your tongue dance at his pretty lips, wanting to taste him.

He does you one better, turning the tides and pressing the kiss back to you, tongue flicking to you.

Just like normal, you weren’t one to back down from Jimin.

Letting a hand move into his silken hair, you brush it back the way you’d seen him do a thousand times. But instead of letting your hands fall out of the soft locks, you let the strands wind around your fingers and give it a tug.

Jimin lets out a low groan, breaking the kiss to pant against your lips. Pride flows through you, but so did a sense of admiration - it was something you wanted to hear from that pretty mouth over and over.

“That’s a dangerous game you’re playing, Y/N.” He whispers, tugging sharply on the shirt so that your body was flat against his.

You try to not let the gasp from you come out too loud, the lines of his body startlingly apparent as you’re pressed together.

“You think that scares me?”

At your words he smiles. It spreads slowly, but soon his whole face is alight, brightness shining out of him. With his fingers at the hem of the massive shirt, he gives you a filthy giggle before kneeling and slipping himself inside of the material.

“What are you doing?” You yelp, feeling the familiar sensation of being stuck in the stupid shirt with him again. But it was different too, it wasn’t suffocating like before.

His head popped back up through the ripped collar, grin still annoyingly plastered across his face.

“Shouldn’t you be trying to get me out of this shirt, Park Jimin?” You whisper, breathless as he presses you back against the wall.

“I can’t deny that you have too many clothes on.” He smirks, delicate fingers sliding up your shirt to rest on your hot skin. “But there’s something… ah, satisfying about having you in this shirt.”

“Seriously?”

“What’s the matter Y/N, don’t think you can handle it?” His fingers circle agonisingly slow on your hips, a mischievous glint catching in his eye. He knows you so well.

“You’re gonna be the one who can’t handle it.”

“Prove it.”

You almost growl at him as he presses your buttons, but the burning in you meets the heat in your stomach. You need him more than ever.

You pull him back against you by the hair, crushing your lips together once more. He moans into you, nails pressing into your hips as your lips collide. You roll your hips against him, the fire in your veins white hot as he stutters against you. He breaks your kiss to gasp needily, eyes shut tight as your stomach brushes against the bulge in his tight jeans.

His eyes finally open, unfocused and swimming. But after a second he fixes his gaze on you, determined. A flicker of anticipation fills you, awaiting retribution.

His fingers move from your skin to the hem of your shirt, tugging it up until you have to help him. The shirt you were sharing was making it difficult, and you start to regret ever letting him get his way. But as soon as you are free he presses back into you, his hot skin flush against yours, his fingers idly tracing the straps of your bra.

Just with the gentle brush of his fingertips he nudges the straps down your arms, goosebumps rising along his trail. He presses his lips to your cheek, pecking slow, soft kisses across your cheekbone as he moves towards your ear. You sigh as his mouth moves lower, plump lips pressing dainty kisses down your neck. With you swept up, his hands move behind you and unclip your bra.

A gasp passes your lips while his own are still planted at your neck, sucking on a soft spot there. Your bra slides off your body, landing with a quiet thud on the floor of the balcony.

His fingers find their way back to your hips, slowly caressing their way up. An excited shiver catches you, and you feel him laugh against your skin. His warm hands find your breasts, thumbs rubbing over the soft skin before finding your nipples.

You suck in a breath as he kisses back up your neck. He pauses to capture your lips again, lulling you into him as his thumbs brush out across your nipples.

With your staccato breathing he smirks once more into your skin. Not one to ever be outmanoeuvred by Jimin, you decide it’s time to flip the switch.

You purposefully run your fingers down his stomach, featherlight and teasing. He hitches his breath, mouth detaching from your neck as he waits, anticipating your every move. His hot breath rolls down your neck, rippling off your chest. You hide a smirk in his hair and focus on your goal.

Letting your fingers rest on his belt buckle - no doubt something obnoxiously expensive - you begin to undo him as slow as you possibly could. You slide it off, inching it so little that you could feel him get restless against you.

“You’re a nightmare.” He whispers, looking up at you through his eyelashes.

“I’m just savouring the moment.” You offer softly, the soft clinks of the buckle resting against his thigh.

“You’ll pay if you tease me like this.” His voice is high, airy. The voice of a man in complete control - though you knew that was far from the truth.

“Mm, sure Jimin.” You smirk, bringing a hand up between you to his face.

You angle him back up to kiss you, which he does with ferocity. You smile into him, the power to provoke him rich in your veins.

Your hand sinks back to his belt, and with him distracted you pull it off him fast, dumping it somewhere on the floor and popping the button of his jeans. He gasps into your kiss, fingers automatically flexing across your breasts. You hold your reaction to yourself, intent on giving nothing away until you are ready.

You tug down his zipper, pressing it back onto him so he feels the teeth unclipping against his boxers. You knew they were gonna be some annoyingly expensive brand too, but the thought of getting him to ruin them for you was intoxicating. He leans his forehead against yours, the desperation rising his face palpable.

With a sharp tug you drop his jeans to his mid-thigh before moving your fingers back to him, running teasingly around his waistband. You didn’t have to look under the shirt to know his boxers were tented, his erection straining against the fabric. You dip a finger just below his waistband, tracing along the lines of his hips. He lets out a choked breath, hips subconsciously bucking into you.

“Y/N…”

“What?” You ask sweetly, moving your fingers to brush along his pubic bone. Your knuckles barely graze the base of his shaft, but he lets out a murmur of swear words as his eyes flicker.

Not one to be overshadowed for long, Jimin lets his hands drop to your hips and immediately flies to your zipper. He presses his crotch into you, and you feel just how hard he is for you. With a flapping mouth you watch him, challenging eyebrow raised.

Everything was a game. One that you were intent on winning.

Plucking at your courage, you slide a hand back down, wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock. His hips stutter in your hand, a gush of air forcing out of his lungs.

He felt good in your hand - really good. Firm skin, warm and pulsing in your hand. You experimentally ran a finger along his underside, tracing the vein all the way to his tip. He lets himself go then, head thrown back, eyes tightly clasped. A low groan rumbles from his throat, his fingers stilling on your zip.

“Feel good?” You whisper, pressing your lips to his.

“Ah, mm…” Is all he can manage as his head falls back.

He’s totally lost in your touch, and you’d barely started. A ripple of excitement darts through you, the sight of having Park Jimin needy and in your hands was too powerful to overlook.

A small giggle falls from your lips, the tiniest of noises. But it’s enough to spur him back to reality with his dark eyes finally refocusing on you.

He takes a breath to center himself before pulling down your jeans slowly. You feel the material slide over your hips and sit above your knees. Your panties quickly follow, thrust down faster than you can blink.

He lets a hand drag back up your thigh, running across to where you want his hand the most. Your touch on him falters as anticipation runs through your body. Ever so slowly he lets a finger stroke across your slit, barely grazing your skin. You wrap your free arm over his shoulder, taking a grip of his soft hair.

He smiles at you, and you let your eyes drag across his face. He drags his bottom lip between his teeth at your scrutiny. You can’t help but admire him: the way his lipgloss is smudged up across his cupid’s bow, the sweat that seemed to be dribbling so aesthetically down his sharp jaw, the blown out pupils of his deep eyes. Your breath catches in your throat as you soak him in - and that’s when he decides to strike.

He slips his fingers between your folds, feeling how wet you are for him, before sliding his fingers up to your clit. He applies only the slightest bit of pressure but it’s enough to have you gasping at his touch. He lets out a soft moan as he feels you, letting his fingers move in the tiniest circles.

You slowly rock your hips on his fingers, knotting your own in his hair. You instinctively flex your hand only to have his hips instinctively thrust his cock into your hand.

Deciding to move things on just a little, you move back just enough to see his cock in your hand. His eyes flutter open at your movements, only to blow wide when he sees a trail of spit drop from your lips onto his tip. You catch it with your thumb and rub it into his tip, rolling it down his length.

A low moan leaves him, his free hand coming up to wipe your bottom lip ever so delicately. You meet his eyes, a fire burning there just for you. He drags you into a kiss, his hand scrunching in your hair.

His hand start to move again, circling you and getting into a slow rhythm on your clit. You moan into his kiss, starting your movements too until both of you were breathless messes.

The kisses became scattered and sloppier as you both let your hands work. The delicate touch of his fingers was enough to blur your vision, and your firm grip that was growing in speed on his length rendered him weak in your hands.

His own hand moves deftly, nimble fingers moving between circling your needy clit to running through your wetness. His jaw slackens each time he feels how wet you are for him, pride drifting somewhere in his lust-blown eyes.

Jimin is slick under your grasp, rock hard as you twist up and down his length. Staggered gasps fall from his lips, getting more and more careless as you drag him higher.

His circling gets a little more pressure, and it’s enough to send your head lulling back, barely able to focus on the task literally in hand. You returned his zeal, putting an extra squeeze on his length. The choke that passes his lips sends pride through your already thrashing veins. His face twitches; his forehead creases, pretty lips part slightly further, eyebrows jolt. You know he’s close, and you have the power in your hands.

But he has you, too. The pressure pulsing from your core builds, your eyes slamming shut as you're barely able to form words. You can feel it rising, teetering on the edge of something good-

-until he jerks his fingers from you. You whimper at the loss of his fingers, orgasms skittering disappointingly away from you. Your eyes open as you snap your bereft gaze to him.

“Fuck, Y/N, too quick-“ he murmurs, grabbing hold of your wrist and gently pulling your hand of his throbbing cock.

“Jimin?”

He’s fully flushed, strands of silken hair stuck to his forehead. His chest rises and falls rapidly with his chest, eyes wild.

“I don’t wanna cum just yet.”

“What if I wanted you to-“

“Don’t argue with me on this,” he laughs, pressing a kiss to your lips. But then his voice drops low, lips pulled into a deadly smirk. “I have to make you cum first.”

You barely have a second to swallow down a gasp before you’re pulled from the wall to crash against his lips.

You hold him against you with the collar of the shirt you were still trapped in, matching his energy as he kisses you desperately. Your hands are held tight against his chest, his cock resting teasingly against your stomach.

His hands let go of you to grab your hips, steering your towards the edge of the balcony.

Once you're spun he pushes you gently, bending you over to lean against the railing. Forgetting that you’re stuck in the same damn shirt, he gets yanked down with you, body flush against your back. He lets out a tiny giggle into the back of your neck and it’s as if your heart could stop from the sound.

The cool of the metal railing presses into your chest, hands bracing it through the shirt. You look to the party happening below, guests hovering out in the garden to escape the heat of the sweaty party. You were pretty well out of sight - as long as nobody looked up.

“There’s quite a few people down there.” Jimin’s lips are by your ear, making the hairs on your neck stand on end.

“Don’t think you can make me loud enough? That’s a shame.” You smirk, unable to stop teasing him.

“You’re gonna regret those words baby.”

The pet name strikes deep within you. It’s perfect coming from Jimin, warmth radiating across your body. And you couldn’t blame that one on the heat.

Jimin presses his body onto your back, thick erection settling just above your cheeks. You feel the heat of his hand smooth from your thigh round to the front of you. He takes a few swipes across your clit to make you jerk beneath him before his fingers drift further back.

He swirls a finger around your waiting hole, agonizingly slow. You gasp at him, pushing your hips back into him. His shaft brushes against your cheeks and you can hear him suck in a desperate breath. Spurred on by his own need, he dips his finger gradually inside.

It’s slow, pushing past his knuckle until his finger sits inside you. You feel your walls pulse around him, desperate for more. His hand stills, taking his time to pepper kisses behind your ear. He nips playfully at your lobe, taking his sweet time with each movement.

You know he’s doing it to make you suffer. And god were you suffering, using every ounce of restraint to not whine for him.

Slowly he turns his finger so it sits better inside of you. The graze of his knuckle causes you to moan, and you feel him smirk into your skin.

“That’s what I was waiting for.”

He slowly begins to pump into you. It’s instantly better than his stationary finger, but still agonizingly slow. You needed him, harder and faster.

“Jimin…” you whine, pushing your rear back into him. He tuts into your ear, stilling his fingers.

“You need to let go, Y/N. I’ve got you.” He punctuates his point by kissing a trail along your shoulder.

You bite your lip, his words hitting a little deeper than just him getting you off. You always had to be in control of yourself around Jimin - you had to win, had to be alert. You couldn’t let your emotions get hold of you.

But it was all out in the open now. He knew how you felt - and he feels the same too. Maybe you can let go, just a little. It didn’t mean you had to start losing arguments any time soon, though.

You nod, turning your head to where he was pressing kisses into your skin. He beams at you, eyes scrunching as he surges up to catch your lips.

His movements cause his thumb to brush across your clit, and you moan wantonly into him. He pulls away to peer over the balcony, the loud noise escaping you both. You follow his gaze, but you’d drawn no attention. Not yet anyway-

He looks back at you and winks, the move cheeky and completely Jimin but he silences by pulling his finger almost completely out of you. Your jaw drops at the sensation, but just as quickly he pushes it back inside you, as far as he can go.

You bite the collar of the shirt to muffle your noise. His skin was still hot against yours, a sheen of sweat building on your forehead as you focused on him.

Mercifully he begins to fuck his finger in you, curling inside you. You inhale sharply through your nose, eyes shut tight as you let yourself go.

He carries on for a few more pups before he lets a second finger coat in your wetness. On the next thrust into you, he gently presses in a second finger, and you feel yourself clamp down at the stretch. Jimin keeps pressing kisses against your skin, but he gets breathless, his own erection pressing tauntingly at your back.

He sits his fingers for just a few seconds, letting you get used to him before he works them back out of you. In and out, in and out. He’s slow again, teasing you to the point of madness. You groan in frustration, but it was just what he was waiting for.

He thrusts his fingers deep into you, fucking you fast. Your hips roll to meet his pumps, the drag of him inside you delicious.

He brings up two fingers to your lips, and instinctively you take them into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the digits. You make sure to meet his eye as you run your tip up the crack between his fingers, eliciting a groan from him and a buck of his hips against you.

He pulls them from your mouth and moves them between your legs. His fingers find your clit, and to match the rhythm that he was fingering into you, he begins to circle your needy bud.

It pushes you over the edge, almost literally. You cling onto the balcony as you’re thrust into it, Jimin sucking marks into your neck. You groan, the contact all over your body making you weak. The wet noises that surround you are pure sin, making you bite down on your lip. Jimin groans into your skin, teeth sinking softly into your shoulder as his fingers work fast.

“Fuck!” You yelp as his fingers brush your soft spot inside.

You slap a hand over your mouth as you stare down into the garden below, fear icy in your veins as you hope you’re not spotted.

Jimin doesn’t stop though. He hides his head in your neck, thrusting his fingers faster now that he knows your weak spot.

A few people below scan around them for the source of the swearing, but thankfully none of them think to look up. You bite your lip, eyes closing as you let yourself fall back into Jimin.

“That was a close one, huh?” He whispers, a lilt of a giggle in his voice.

“Shut up.” You murmur, voice cracking as he circles your clit so well you almost see stars.

“That’s no way to talk to the man who’s got two fingers deep in your-“

“Fuck, Jimin please!” You gasp, his next words dancing at the front of your mind.

The circles on your clit get defter, pressure hitting you just right as your hips start to roll uncontrollably. You grip tightly at the railing, unable to stop the flow of moans that echo from you. Being spotted from below is less important as you can feel your orgasm rising, your legs feeling weak underneath you.

Your skin prickles from the heat generating between your bodies, Jimin’s hot breath rolling across your neck as you flush harder.

“I’m gonna...” you whimper, your words lost to pleasure.

“Cum baby, all over my fingers.” His whisper sends shivers through you, a welcome change to the heat that dribbles down your temples.

He curls his fingers on every thrust to bring you closer to the precipice. You push back against him furiously, riding his fingers and your knuckles turn white on the railings. You feel it coil in your stomach, and you know you’re so close.

“Let go Y/N.” He whispers, breath ragged from exertion, but still peppering your marked skin with tiny kisses. You screw your eyes shut as you embody his words, letting yourself give in to the feeling.

“Jimin!”

Your orgasm crashes around you, a litany of swear words moan from your lips. Your walls clench down on Jimin’s fingers, twitching under his fingertips. You slam your hand over your mouth as your moans subside, wide eyes scanning the crowd below.

Heads turn in your direction, and before you can begin to scramble Jimin pulls you back from the balcony to stand flush against him. Your heart pounds in your chest, but the thrill that runs through your veins is undeniable.

He finally pulls his fingers out of you, the gush of wetness and noise make your face heat up. He wraps that arm across your chest and holds you against him, a wide grin wrinkling his eyes. You kiss him, soft and delicate, plump lips locking with yours.

Once you pull back he grins again, before moving the fingers that were in you towards his lips. your mouth parts as you watch him slip the digits inside, taking his time to suck off the taste of you. A light whimper leaves you as you watch him finally slide them out from between your lips with a pop, devilish glint in his eye.

Witha shiver you turn in his grip, pushing him firmly back against the wall.

He hisses lightly as his back hits it, and hisses louder as you're bungied in the shirt against him. He lets out a laugh and you do the same as you right yourself. But you can't keep yourself away from him as your lips are on his again. You flick your tongue at his, the taste of you on him.

“Wanna be inside you...” he whispers between kisses, his hot fingers idling their way up and down your sides. You groan at his words, nodding dreamily at him.

“God, yes please.” you sigh, feeling his lips trace kisses along your jaw.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” He smiles against your skin, grabbing you by the hips and spinning you both.

He pushes you back against the wall, the bite of the wood pressing into your skin.

“I’ve never heard you so passive.” He laughs, thumb and finger coming up to gently grip your chin. You grin at him, a flutter in your stomach.

“Don’t get used to it Park Jimin.”

He tips his head back to laugh, a pinky flush hot on his cheeks. All you can do is watch in awe, soak him in as he glows in the moonlight. But then he looks back down at you with the stars in his eyes and you realise that, yes - this is what you had wanted all along.

You bring his lips crashing back down to yours, letting your fingers knot in his dark hair and you touch him, drink him in. The silken strands flit through your fingers, and you idly think to yourself about him running his own hands through it. You can see why he does it now.

His thumb strokes across your chin, gently pulling your face from his. You open your eyes to look at him, the flush on his face even brighter.

“Ready?”

“Give it your best shot.” you smile, peppering his jaw with kisses.

You’re stopped in your tracks when he hoists one of your legs over his hip, a teasing eyebrow raised at you. Not to be bested, you hook your leg over his ass and pull him against you. You feel his erection sit against your stomach, hard and leaking onto your skin.

He takes hold of himself and strokes across your wet slit, coating himself. A withered sigh escapes your lips as you watch his frown deepen. His face contorts as he concentrates, teasing himself just as much as he was you. You lean forward to let a trail of spit fall from your lips and drip down onto him, coating his cock even more. You don’t know what possessed you to do it again, but the way he stuttered in a gasp made it well worth it.

Then with an agonisingly slow pace, he begins to press himself just inside you. Your mind clears, all that you can see and feel is Jimin. You had waited long enough.

A wimpery sigh strangles from you, Jimin pressing against your walls until he is fully seated in you. He was so warm, stretching you in all the right places, as close to you as he could physically be.

You give him an encouraging squeeze with your leg. He takes the hint and slowly starts to pull out of you, hair flopping in front of his eyes as he looks down to watch himself pull out of you. The drag of him is good, too good, as you let a warble of noises fall out of your mouth. He doesn't seem to mind though, his focus transfixed elsewhere.

"Jimin..." you whisper, fingers digging into his skin as he slowly begins to reach a rhythm.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, any mischievous glint in him gone. He was a man on a mission now, aiming to make you feel as good as possible. You could feel that in every stroke, the way he let you feel the length of him drag almost fully out before he pushes back inside you.

You start to roll your hips back at him, determined to not let him have all the fun. The tentative thrust of your hips had his head snap up to you, a fresh sheen of sweat glowing on his skin. You try to play it off coolly - another attempt to throw him off his game - but he squeezes your ass cheeks and holds himself deep in you, and your resolve melts away.

"Don't start something you can't finish." He smirks, and despite the need to fight him bubbling in you, you tip your head back and laugh.

"I guess that applies to both of us." You smile, pressing forward to kiss his lips softly. "Now fuck me Park Jimin, or we're really gonna have a fight on our hands."

He laughs against your lips, a gentle bubble that rises from his chest. But he takes on your words, pressing you hardest against the wall and hiking your leg higher.

He only goes slow for a few thrusts, getting a feel for you before he decides to ramp it up further. 'Typical Jimin' seems to float through your head, but you just grip him tighter, moving to meet his thrusts. You wanted to savour how full he made you feel for as long as possible.

His speed picks up, a hand moving to the underside of your raised legs and digs in deep. You let your own hands slide to his hair, keeping hold of the soft locks as he starts to hit harder inside you.

The sound of your skin making contact seems to echo loudly, and you barely spare a thought to people below working out what the noise was. You didn't care if they heard any more.

It was so hot inside the shirt together, and you could feel beads of sweat rolling down your chin and down your neck. This definitely wasn't helping the heat problem at all, but there was nothing on earth that would make you stop.  The edges of Jimin's hair were getting damper, and with every tug of his hair he let his head fall back into your touch. His throat was bared to you, salty beads dribbling down his hot skin.

You murmur a series of curses as you watched him, the thrum of him being underneath you almost unbelievable.

But then he pulls out a power move.

With fast thrusts he rolls his hips, his cock dragging almost perfectly across your soft spot inside, and all your senses seem to leave you. He repeatedly manages to hit your spot and you are sure he is planning to end you, it was the only way to explain it. Death by good dick, you could see it now.

"Fuck fuck fuck." you repeat like a mantra, The wet slaps that echoes just adding to the sensation.

"Wanna turn you." He mutters breathlessly, and a part of you is glad he's also feeling so affected.

You can't seem to vocalise an answer so you nod emphatically, unhitching your leg from its vice-like grip around him. He pulls out of you and you almost complain, but then his hands are on your hips.

He spins you and presses you against the wall, lifting your leg up and lining himself back inside you again. You're practically dripping for him, so it doesn't take much for him to push back inside. You push your ass back into his thrusts making his movements stutter, and with a playful squeeze he whines behind you.

A small smirk picks up on your lips as you roll your hips back at him, starting him out of his stupor and back to where you need him.

He pounds his hips into you and you have to steady yourself against the wall. The shirt bunches awkwardly, caught in your grip as the rough wood of the wall digs into your skin. Jimin presses his front against your back, the hotness of his skin pricking against your own.

An arm slides around your waist, guiding you, holding you steady as he ferociously fucks into you. His other arm settles across your chest, his fingers clenching across your collarbone. His mouth is by your ear, ragged breaths blowing across the taut collar of the shirt and hitting the warmth of your body.

“Y/N.” Jimin groans, the lilt in his voice uneven as his hips crash into yours.

Your entire body was tingling, the pleasure from your core and the bite of the wall against your bare skin a fight for your senses. You could feel perspiration form on your forehead making your hair stick to you awkwardly but it didn't matter.

Jimin filled you in every way. The hot touch from his fingertips on your waist and across your chest, the heat of his stomach at the base of your back, the soft moans that he sings by your ears.

"That's it, baby." He groans, his fingers curling onto your skin.

The hand that he has sat on your waist slinks across your stomach to reach between your legs, letting his fingers circle your throbbing clit. The pressure makes your eyes slam shut, letting your head fall back onto Jimin's shoulder behind you.

A small single laugh falls from his lips, but your inevitable clench off your walls around him cuts it short. He thrusts a little harder, rocking you against the wall. You have to brace yourself as he fills you repeatedly, his athletic hips working overtime.

The hand that has been pressed to your chest finds its way to your throat, holding just below your jaw. You let out a moan as you cover his hand with yours, pressing his fingers into your throat.

"Shit..." He gasps, his hips stuttering.

"I bet you've been wanting to strangle me for ages." You rush, voice cracking as he circles your clit a little harder.

"Only when I've thought about fucking you."

The moan that leaves you is barely human. In fact, you were barely human any more. you were turning to putty on his cock and under his fingers. It wasn't going to be long until you reached your peak.

His fingers press into your throat under your guidance, the delicious bite making your vision slowly pool. You gasp, shivers tingling down your body. He lets up his grip a little to let your blood flow one more, your body practically vibrating from stimulation.

"Close, Jimin..." you whine, rocking your ass back into him.

"Let loose for me, Y/N." He whispers, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear.

He lets out one last surge of energy, fucking into you and rubbing your clit with a renewed vigour. you throw yourself back at him without care, chasing the high he was leading to you.

With a few more pumps and circles on your clit, you come undone.

Your body pulses on him, clenching down hard as your orgasm crashes through you. Your fingernails dig into his hand and the wall, a strangled cry of his name bursting from you. You cum hard on him, helping him finally reach his peak too - you could tell by the way his hips stuttered, the way he throbbed inside you.

"Cum, Jimin." you whimper, rocking your throbbing core on him.

He doesn't hold back, pumping a few stuttery thrusts into you as he cums. He fills you, gasping against your ear as your walls milk him dry. He thrusts until he can’t anymore, slowing his hips as the fullness inside of you trickles out past his length.

Both of your movements slowly lull to a stop. Jimin holds your body close against him, ragged breath hot against your ear. Your skin is prickled from the heat but you nestle into him anyway.

He finally pulls his softening length from inside you, a small dribble of your combined juices trickle down causing shivers to cover your body.

Turning your head you smile at him, slightly out of breath and dewy. The sight of him is godly: Messy hair sticking to his damp forehead, a pretty red blush spreading across his cheeks, plushy lips parted and sucking in breaths. He smirks back, a lazy grin growing. He moves closer and kisses you, gentle brushes of his lips against yours.

His hand that sat on your throat moved to stroke your cheek, and you let your hands thread in his hair as your kiss trails off into small pecks.

The air is different around you. It’s still hot, swirling close and untempered. But there’s something else too - a coolness, an understanding. A person behind the battle lines. Someone you could lean on, and someone who could keep up with you in an argument.

You pull back from him and look at him, his eyes slightly starry and his lips swollen from all they had been doing. With a soft smile you rub your thumb across his cupid’s bow, wiping off the last of his lipgloss.

“We should probably go downstairs, right? We don’t want Namjoon sticking that long neck of his out here.” Jimin whispers, his eyes finally focusing on you.

You nod, but not before pressing one last soft kiss to his lips. Now you’ve started, there was nothing in the world that could stop you from peppering him.

“Yeah.” You sigh, voice cracking slightly.

But neither of you move, both unwilling to be the first to break apart.

“I don’t want to leave here either.” He smirks, but it’s softer. Not the smirk he throws out to purposely disarm you, though it still has that effect on you.

“Where do we go from here though?”

“I guess we’ll have to work that out. Maybe we can discuss it if you let me take you out tomorrow?” He asks, eyes darting over your face for an answer.

Excitement crackles through you, electricity rippling through your head to the end of your fingertips. A smile rises on your face, and you can see the relief flow through Jimin.

“I’d love to.”

“Perfect. Now, let’s go and rub in the guy’s faces how well we’re getting on.” He laughs, his eyes crinkling.

He kisses you one last time, hard and fast, satiated for now. With that you finally separate, Pulling your clothes back on before facing each other again.

The shirt felt big now. Too big.

You couldn’t get close enough to him. You both head for the door when you feel Jimin’s fingers interlock with yours. Your entire body flushes as you open the door to the bedroom, the wall of heat from the house hitting you both.

You’re both undeterred though, determined to find your friends. You pull him down the stairs, not caring at who stares at you both in the sickly shirt. The house felt hotter, a visible mist descending over the sea of people.

You find them where they last left you, congregating around the couch. When you stop in front of them with Jimin in tow, they all take it upon themselves to scrutinise you. It was quiet for a long while, and you could feel your resolve buckling. You didn’t want them to see through you, see what happened. But you wanted them to know that things would be okay. For all of you.

You can only imagine how you looked. Out of breath and flustered, both of your hair messy and fully damp. They couldn’t see your hands knotted together inside the shirt, but they didn’t need to. The demeanor change between you both must have been glaringly obvious.

“How’s it going?” Namjoon asks, glaring between you.

“Good, we, uh. We’re getting on. Yeah.” you smile awkwardly, completely lost on why you were being so suspicious. You had more guts than that!

“That was smooth.” Jimin grins. He was worlds away from you, utterly content and calm.

“Oh my god, shut up.” You roll your eyes, but give his hands an extra squeeze under the shirt.

“Where have you guys been? I haven’t seen you all night.” Jungkook asks with wide innocent eyes, and for a moment you feel like if he knew what had just been happening he would have been tainted.

“Oh, just… exploring.” Jimin smirks, and you fight the urge to pinch him. Who knew this would go to his head?

Well, you knew. You shouldn’t be surprised at all.

“About time.” Jin sighs, eyes still glued to his phone. The others laugh and throw in their agreements.

“What?” you and Jimin both yell, eyes scanning your ‘friends’ suspiciously.

“We knew you both liked each other. It got a bit weird towards the end there but we knew you’d work it out - or Namjoon would.” Hoseok shrugs, but his face is bright as he grins at you both.

“The shirt was a bit of a, well… drastic option.” Namjoon's smile was crooked, but his eyes were bright as he grinned at you.

“Oh… I don’t know what to say.” You murmur, heat creeping across your face again.

Jimin, however, throws his head back and laughs, slapping a hand on his chest for good measure. You stare up at him in shock, but you can’t help the smile that grows on your face. He was infectious. And your friends understood. You feel a tightness unfurl in your stomach.

“Well, it worked out. It worked out really well. I mean just so so good-”

“Jimin, shut up!”  You gasp, eyes wide as he winks at Namjoon.

Well, it’s good to know that the fire is still there between you. He was still impossibly infuriating and unendingly Jimin - but it was all for you. And it was only the start.

“Sorry baby.” He whispers as he lets go of your hand to wrap his arm around your waist pulling you into his side. You flush at the move in front of the others, but easily melt into his side. You had been waiting for this, after all.

“I’m glad.” smiles Namjoon, warm eyes flicking over you both in the stained and rumpled ugly item of clothing. “Maybe we should burn the shirt, though. Just for hygienic reasons.”