#i might add more to this one too tbh i think the living room could use a rug and maybe the more permanent bedroom | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

artemis32 · 1 year ago

Text

Duplicity

Dabi / Touya Todoroki x reader (ft. Tomura Shigaraki & Keigo Takami)

****

First fic in yonks, and it's a dark one (seriously. read the warnings)

i have three other fics i'm working on that i'm hoping to have done in the next week or two :))

word count - 7.5k

tw: dark content, noncon / dubcon (mostly noncon), (pseudo) incest??, yandere, threesome, gangbang, vaginal sex, oral sex (both m and f receiving), throat fucking, slapping (not in a sexy way), praise, degradation, they're all pretty mean, voyeurism, choking (not in a sexy way), Dabi is called Touya pretty much the entire fic, and he has a Jacob's ladder, the big dick Shiggy agenda continues, violence, creampie, no protection (wrap it before you tap it kids), chasing, Touya has a thing for tits, some head injury (reader should really have that checked out), Keigo's kinda just there for the vibes tbh

bnha masterlist

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

The mumble is dejected, barely uttered under your breath, and promptly followed by a heavy huff.

Your day had been hell personified, to put it lightly.

A slew of unfortunate events had been what made up your day, bad luck from the moment you’d opened your eyes that morning - late, might I add.

All of your bad luck had culminated into what had probably been the worst day of your life, and to top it all off, you’d been forced to walk home in the rain. Twenty minutes of trudging down a bunch of empty streets saw your already terrible mood plummet, becoming ten times worse.

You’d been looking forward to the day’s end - all you wanted was to get home, for some peace and quiet and whatever leftovers you could find shoved in the back of the fridge.

That’s why, right now, you feel yourself itching with barely concealed irritation.

There, sat far too comfortably on the sofa, was your brother.

Step brother.

As if you’d ever call that waste of space your brother.

Worse still was the fact that he had two of his creep-fest friends with him.

That wasn’t what annoyed you, although you hated that they had decided to spend their time here instead of elsewhere.

No, what annoyed you most was-

“You couldn’t have picked me up? I had to walk in the rain. Twenty minutes Touya!”

He glances over at you, barely registering your words, his attention more focused on the game he’s playing with one of his friends - the blue haired one who has a habit of seemingly undressing you with his eyes everytime you see him.

You shiver in slight disgust as he eyes you up.

“And? How’s that my problem?”

You groan in frustration, kicking off your shoes in the entryway and stomping up the stairs towards your room.

“Fucking stupid, waste of space, dumbass, idiot - I’ll shove that damn controller up your ass.”

You take a deep breath, calming yourself.

It’s fine. This is fine.

After you’ve calmed yourself and changed out of your soaked clothing, you head downstairs again, pausing on the landing to stare out the window.

The rain pelts down in thick sheets, so heavy you can barely see beyond the window.

You preoccupy yourself with grabbing something to eat, shoving a few slices of leftover pizza onto a plate and into the microwave. While it heats up, a thought hits you and you head back to the living room.

“Hey Touya, when’re mom and dad getting home?”

He doesn’t answer. You wait a while, thinking he’s preoccupied.

Still nothing.

You ask again.

“Touya-”

“Fucking hell!” he yells, slamming his hand down on the coffee table.

The screen flashes as his character dies and Shigaraki snickers next to him.

Touya turns to glower at you.

“Stop bothering me.”

You roll your eyes.

“When’s dad getting home?”

He leans back, flicking at the controller as another round starts up. Shigaraki hands his controller over to Keigo, or Hawks as his friends mockingly call him.

“Eh? He’s not coming home. Him and your mom left for a business trip this morning - didn’t they tell you?”

You still.

A business trip?

You hum out a distracted thanks, heading back into the kitchen as the microwave blares. You grab the still-hot plate before heading back up to your room, crawling under the pile of blankets on your bed.

****

You put the thought of your parents and their last minute business trip out of your mind. Instead, you think about other things.

Like the fact that Touya refused to call your mom ‘mom’.

You didn’t blame him, per se. In fact, it was probably better that he didn’t.

It was just strange - Shouto, Fuyumi and Natsuo all called your mom theirs, so it was always jarring to hear Touya call her ‘your mom’, or even worse, by her first name. But it never seemed to bother her, so you never mentioned it.

It wasn’t as if he was even around often enough for it to be a big deal.

Mostly, he stayed with one of his friends, coming home only when no one else was around or if he needed a change of clothes.

It was an arrangement that suited everyone, though your father never seemed to appreciate his son’s flighty nature.

Whatever, it was none of your business.

All you knew was that whenever he was around, he made your life a living hell.

Before your mom had married his dad, you’d never had any siblings, so the only image you had of that type of relationship before was the stuff you’d seen on tv.

Shouto and Natsuo were nice enough, adopting you as their younger sister. You’d joined their family early enough that it felt as if they really were your siblings - you were barely four years old at the time, two years younger than Shouto.

Fuyumi had smothered you in the beginning, coddling and cooing at you like a pet.

Once the novelty had worn off, she’d become somewhat of a normal older sister, though still far more affectionate than what you expected.

Touya though - he avoided you like the plague, at least for the first few years after you’d been forced to live together. Sometime after your tenth birthday though, he’d turned into your own personal tormentor, teasing you like some stereotypical middle school bully, pulling at your hair, tripping you while you walked up the stairs, locking you in the basement if you went down alone to get something out of your dad’s office. Once or twice, he even managed to get you into a headlock, letting up only once you were seconds away from passing out.

It was horrible, and your siblings stepped in wherever they could.

He seemed to lose interest after a while, settling on slinging insults your way whenever he was near. Eventually even that seemed to lose its appeal, and, as of late, he’d gone back to ignoring your very existence, as he had when you’d first met.

It might have hurt your feelings, if you’d had any type of relationship with him. Now, you were just thankful he wasn’t trying to wrestle you to the ground whenever he saw you.

Your musings are cut short by a loud clap of thunder, and you flinch as the windows rattle.

Thunder never bothered you, but the storm seemed to be getting worse, and in the back of your mind, you registered that Shouto still wasn’t home.

You fidget with the blanket on your lap for a few more moments, trying and failing to distract yourself with your phone. You find yourself tapping Shouto’s contact, calling him before you can think twice.

Most of the time, you were concerned your siblings would find you clingy and annoying, as Touya had no problem reminding you, but you cared for them, and that meant you fretted over every little thing.

You pull at a loose thread on your sweater while the line rings, staring vacantly out the window as rain continues to streak down, blurring the view of the garden.

Will it flood? They might have mentioned something on the weather report this morning. I really should start paying more attention.

“Hello?”

You lurch forward. “Shouto? Hey, what’s up?”

He greets you, asking why you called.

“Well, you aren’t home yet and the weather’s looking pretty bad. I just- I was wondering if you’re coming home tonight?”

If you were talking to anyone else, you’d be worried about sounding pathetic - needy.

But it’s your brother. Your older brother who loves you and would never mock you for your concern.

He hums before answering. “Oh, yeah, I forgot to let you know, I’m staying over at Midoriya’s tonight. We have a project to work on and it’s just easier to stay here for the night.”

“Oh,” you say.

There’s a long pause, neither of you saying anything for a long moment.

“Okay, I just- um, wanted to check in.”

You take a deep breath, pulling yourself together.

“Well, have a good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He’s about to put the phone down while you scramble to keep him on the line.

“Wait!” you exclaim, “Mom and dad are away on a business trip”

“Yes, I know,” he says evenly.

There ‘s another pause.

“Natsuo should be home soon though - his classes ended about half an hour ago, so you won’t be alone,” he reassures you.

“Okay,” you say, sighing through your nose. “Okay, I- goodnight Sho, see you tomorrow.”

He bids you goodnight once more before ending the call.

You stay still, not moving from your spot for a long moment.

The truth…

The truth was that you weren’t exactly comfortable being alone in the house with Touya. Well, Touya and his friends.

Not that he’d ever done anything beyond bullying you, but - well, you hadn’t been alone with him for more than ten minutes since you were seven years old, and you weren’t eager to try your luck.

Bruises healed, but his scathing words took longer to soothe.

You shake your head.

No.

No, grow up - there’s no need to be so scared. It’s just for one night. And besides, I can just stay in my room and he’ll stay downstairs. Far away from me. And Natsuo will be here. I won’t be alone.

This is fine.

It’s fine.

****

After taking your dishes to the kitchen, you make your way back upstairs and head to the bathroom you and Shouto share, locking the door before stripping and jumping into the shower.

The hot water helps work the knots out of your neck, and you sigh heavily as you stand under the jets of water.

After scrubbing your hair and body, you leave the shower and brush your teeth. Enveloping yourself in a massive towel, you unlock the door and pad over to your bedroom.

A hot shower had unsurprisingly done wonders for your mood, and you felt much better now. Although, a part of you wished you’d properly relaxed and taken a bath instead - you were sure your muscle aches would be a thing of the past if you had.

You stop short in the middle of the hall.

The door is ajar. Your door.

You’d shut it.

Before you went to the bathroom, before you’d gone downstairs to the kitchen, you had shut your door.

Hands shaking, you reach for the handle and push it open.

Nothing.

It’s empty.

You sigh through your nose, closing the door behind you and heading over to your closet.

After changing into your pyjamas - sleep shorts that could just as easily pass as underwear for how short they were, and a ridiculously oversized shirt, stolen from either your father or Natsuo - you head over to the hamper in the corner of your room, dropping your towel into it and-

You let out a strangled sound, and it dies in the back of your throat as you freeze with your hand still outstretched.

Laundry was a chore you kept up to date with at all times, preferring to keep your clothing separate from the rest of your family.

You tended to wash your underwear in a separate load too, so it often took longer to get to.

That being said, you were supposed to do a load today, and there, on top of the full hamper, was a pair of panties.

Your favourite pair.

The lacy white undergarment lay crumpled up, discarded in a hurry. And it was covered in something thick - both creamy and white.

You feel yourself gag.

Anger- No, rage blinds you as you move to the door.

****

You storm downstairs, unthinking as you march into the livingroom and stand with crossed arms in front of the TV, ignoring the indignant yells that follow as both Tomura and Keigo die in the game.

“You’re disgusting.” You spit out, your words venomous and your tone scathing as you keep a tight grip on your soiled underwear.

Touya regards you with a bored, uninterested look, pausing for the briefest moment to eye the panties crumpled in your hand. The two other men take the unprompted disruption as their chance to take a break, Tomura standing up and heading towards the bathroom.

“Hm? Did someone upset the poor sensitive baby?” He asks in a mocking tone, rolling his eyes as he holds out a hand for the controller.

“You and your disgusting degenerate friends are the ones who upset me. Stay out of my room, and keep your goddamn dicks in your pants.” You snap scornfully, glaring down at him.

He pauses, his eyes narrowing as he sits straight and leans forward, his voice dropping an octave as he stares you down intently.

“What?”

You scoff and roll your eyes. “Don’t ‘what’ me, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Tomura returns from his trip to the bathroom, flopping down on the couch with a grunt as he restarts the game, craning his neck to peer around you at the TV.

“No. I don’t. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the literal cumstain one of you left on my underwear. Just because none of you have ever felt the touch of a woman doesn’t mean I appreciate you using my underwear to get your rocks off.”

His eyes lighten in amusement at the words, and the smug smirk he wears as he glances at his friends makes your blood boil.

“The kitchen, huh Shiggs? You dirty freak.”

Somehow, you don’t think the words are meant as an insult. The three laugh, ignoring you completely. Keigo even claps the blue haired reprobate on the shoulder in an almost congratulatory gesture.

Rage roars in your ears, and any sense of civility evaporates as you glare at them.

“I’m telling my mom.”

The words, however childish they may be, slip out before you can stop them. It’s all you can think to say at that moment.

Touya pauses, wrinkling his nose in an expression similar to disgust as he scoffs.

“Your mother? Ha, fuck off, I don’t care what she thinks. She’s not my mother. She’s nothing. She’s a brainless bimbo whose only purpose is to spread her legs for my asshat father.”

The words sting more than they should, considering you know they’re not true, and you bite back, uncaring of how you might hurt him as the words spill out of you, trembling hands clenched so tightly your nails dig into your palms, drawing blood.

“Yeah, well, at least she actually loves me. It’s more than you can say for your mother. And at least the rest of the family actually want me around. Fuck, at least Dad looks at me- he’s too disappointed in you to even look at your face.”

Tomura and Keigo’s reactions tell you everything you need to know. You just fucked up. Royally.

The only sound besides the constant battering of rain against the large windows is the sharp intake of breath from Touya’s two friends, and they sit deadstill, staring between the two of you as they wait with bated breath for Touya’s response.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t even move.

The room seems frozen in time. No one moves, no words are spoken to break the silence.

You move. The smallest of steps, a miniscule shuffle to the side, towards the staircase.

It seems that’s all he needed.

Touya is on his feet in an instant, darting towards you, but you’re already making a mad dash for the stairs.

He tackles you down before you’ve even made it halfway, grabbing your ankle and jerking you closer midstep. Your forehead collides painfully with the edge of a step and you let out a pained, strangled whimper.

Much of what Touya tells his friends is lost to the ringing in your head. All you really register is him picking you up, feeling near weightless as he carries you past the living room, his friends’ leering gazes digging into your scalp as the two of you descend into the basement.

Your attempt at wriggling out of his arms is pathetic and half-hearted, and when you try to grab at the door frame to halt his movement, he cruelly twists your wrists, his expression unchanging at your cry of pain.

The last thing you see before the basement door closes is the enraptured gleam in Tomura’s eyes.

****

You weren’t ever really allowed in the basement, not that you had a reason to enter the restricted space.

Regardless, you never wanted to be down there. It was cold, and dark, and it sent a stab of unbridled panic down your spine. It only really contained your father’s old office space and a spare bedroom which had been used as a storage space for the better part of the last twelve years. All in all, it was an empty, forgotten space.

The handful of times you’d been down there never ended well.

And as usual, the problems had to do with Touya.

Always Touya.

He’d locked you down there for hours once, before it had become essentially abandoned.

You’d been five years old, still young and believing the best of him. He’d told you it had been a game of hide-and-seek.

Only, you’d spent the better part of eight hours screaming and sobbing, completely unheard in the soundless backroom of the basement. You’d passed out on the bed sometime after the six hour mark, sleeping soundly until you were found.

Your mother had been in a panic by the time she’d found you, letting out relieved sobs of her own as she scooped you up into her arms and cradled you against her chest soothingly.

Your parents had thought, completely unaware of the truth, that you’d strayed down there alone and managed to lock yourself in. Since that moment, you’d been banned from wandering into the basement by yourself.

Similar things had happened over the years, and unsurprisingly, Touya had been the root cause of many of the problems you’d dealt with.

Presently, he tosses you uncaringly on the bed, scoffing in bored amusement as you scramble over the bed and huddle against the headboard.

Despite your earlier brashness in confronting him, you were terrified. The reality of the situation had set in, and you felt your stomach roil as Touya stared you down with heavy lidded eyes, his gaze contemplative as he scans your half-bare body.

You’d seen that look before, and it made your skin crawl. It terrified you.

It was how Tomura looked at you when he brazenly palmed the bulge in his pants.

How stupid of you, marching downstairs and confronting three grown men, as if you had any chance of winning an argument. You wished you’d had the forethought to at least put on a proper pair of pants.

You swallow thickly, clenching your trembling hands into tight fists as you straighten your spine, attempting to appear calm and unaffected.

“Okay Touya, you’ve made your point. You can stop now, I-I won’t tell anyone.”

It’s an effort to swallow your pride, but you manage the words through gritted teeth, bowing your head as you continue.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry for being, uh- For being mean.”

Touya rolls his eyes as he leans forward and grips your ankle tightly, his palm calloused and warm, pulling you closer in one quick jerk, your ass teetering on the edge of the bed. “Imoto…” he trails off, his tone far too sultry for the situation, caressing the inner side of your ankle with his thumb, stroking the soft skin as he tilts his head, deep in thought.

His grip tightens again, to an almost painful extent, and you suppress a cry as the delicate bones of your ankle groan under the pressure. His voice is cold and condescending as he speaks.

“You’re so stupid.”

You lean further back as he hovers over you, surveying you with flat, emotionless eyes.

“I don’t care that you were mean. Just like I don’t care if you tell anyone. I don’t care if they believe you either. You know why? Because no one will do anything,” he whispers, toying with the hem of your shirt as he regards you with cool indifference.

“I could do anything I wanted, and no one would say a thing. In fact, I will do what I want… Do you know what I want?”

You shake your head, hesitant and silent in your state of panic.

“Aw, imoto, you know you shouldn’t lie to your big brother,” he murmurs patronisingly, gripping the hem of your shirt as he slowly lifts it up, leaving it to rest just above your bare breasts.

His pupils are blown wide as his hand trails down your waist, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Y’know, you’re pretty grown now, aren't ya? I wonder… Have you let anyone touch you yet?”

He hums to himself, not pressing you for an answer as he continues in a stupor, seemingly unaware of your silent horror. You’re completely frozen, too shocked to move, to speak, to do anything. You can’t even bring yourself to lower your shirt as you listen in abject horror as he continues on.

“I really hope you haven’t. Not that it really matters… Touya-nii will take real good care of you, don’t you worry… It’s about time I treat that bad attitude of yours too.”

You’re frozen in disbelief and fear, completely paralysed as he shoves a leg between yours, keeping them open as he shifts his grip from your ankle to your hips.

The stupor is short-lived, and your struggles renew twofold as he paws at your clothed cunt. There’s a satisfying thwack sound as your foot connects with his jaw, though the sense of victory quickly fizzes out within the long bout of dead silence. Touya tilts his head to the side staring at the wall blankly, and after a few long moments, he moves, slowly facing forward again, rubbing his jaw, seemingly completely ignoring you as he works his jaw.

He huffs, the sound reminiscent of an amused scoff as he looks down at you with rage simmering in his eyes.

“Like I said: You’re so fucking stupid.”

You don’t see the slap coming. All you register is the blurred sight of his arm flying towards you, his numerous rings glinting in the lowlight of the room, and the sudden burn of his backhand striking you across the face. A short, surprised huff is all you can manage, the sharp taste of blood and the stinging pain of rapidly developing welts on your cheek distracting you from reacting.

A trembling palm presses to your tender cheek, and you look up at him with shocked eyes.

“You… hit me.”

He lets out a sardonic laugh, rolling his eyes as he clicks his tongue and caresses your cheek, condescending in his tone.

“Aw, my sweet little sister. You sound so surprised. If I’d known you were such a baby, maybe I’d have taken my rings off for you. Here-”

He pauses, pulling away as he discards his rings haphazardly, turning to frame your face with his calloused palms. His eyes soften slightly as he looks down at you, caressing your tender, reddened cheek for a moment, his fingers lovingly stroking the warm flesh before digging into the fat of your cheeks and his gaze hardens.

The next slap feels worse than the previous, if that’s even possible.

You’re still reeling from the rough strikes, jolting out of your daze as you feel Touya’s palms ghost over the inside of your thighs.

His gaze is focused and razor sharp as he soaks in the sight of your scantily clad core, his palms encasing the tender, soft flesh of your thighs.

Squirming uncomfortably does nothing as he pins your hips down, shifting to kneel on the floor before the bed, yanking you closer and throwing your legs over his shoulders.

Dread drops into your stomach like a stone, making your head spin. As badly as you try to keep them at bay, tears bubble up, dripping down your temples as you sniffle, staring up at the ceiling as you beg.

“Stop– Stop!” You wail panickedly, thrashing beneath him, making no attempts to disguise your sobs. “Stop or I’ll tell Dad!”

He lifts his head from where it was descending between your legs, grinning wickedly at the words.

“Dad? Aw, you sweet, innocent thing. He’d do the exact same thing if he could. Where do you think I get it from, huh?” he says mockingly, condescending as he slaps your cheek lightly before moving back to his previous position, his mouth dangerously close to your centre despite your tightly clenched thighs.

“Come on now, open up for me. It’ll only hurt more if I have to make you.”

A pleading whine is all you can manage as you shake your head, keeping your legs pressed together.

His eyes turn cold at that, all playfulness and teasing leaving him in an instant. He cruelly digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your thighs and huffs in annoyance at your yelp of pain, leaning forward as you jerk your legs apart from the pressure.

A moment later, his warm mouth envelopes your clothed sex.

Your hips jolt, and you gasp in surprise, eyes wide and rounded as you stare down at his bowed head between your legs.

This… This was wrong. So wrong.

Even if you didn’t like him, even if you were loathed to admit it- He was your brother.

Your brother.

“Touya… Stop, please. Please,” you beg quietly, your voice quivering with effort as you reach down to his head, intent on pushing his face away.

You don’t get very far.

His grip is like a vice on your wrist, and he doesn’t look up and he squeezes down painfully, tutting in mock disappointment.

“Did your mother never teach you it’s bad manners to interrupt someone’s meal?” he murmurs, not looking up at you as he massages your hips, hooking his fingers over the hem of your sleep shorts.

It’s torturous. A sick, twisted punishment, the way his focus is wholly dedicated to undressing you.

Shame floods your chest, burning up your neck and over your ears.

He pulls your shorts down, inch by inch until you’re exposed to him, shivering in the cold, stagnant air of the basement. He looks up at you then, regarding you with cool indifference as he kneads the fat of your thighs.

“Itadakimasu,” he purrs softly before descending on you.

A breathy, strangled garble is all you can manage as he licks a smooth, confident stripe up your slit, twirling his tongue lightly around the bud of your clit before returning to your cunt.

His tongue is teasing, punishing as he laps at your core, slurping loudly as if to humiliate you. It works, tears of shame burning your eyes as he pulls away after a few minutes to stare up at you with an appraising eye.

“Someone’s enjoying this, hm? Look at how worked up I’ve got ya…” he hums softly, shifting his hand to rub tight circles on your clit as he stares you down.

“You’re a disgusting whore, getting off on this. Like mother, like daughter, huh?”

The words snap something inside of you, and you decide in that moment, you want to hurt him- kill him. Gouge his eyes out and shove them down his throat.

“I hate you.”

You glower and slap him across the face with as much force as you can muster, not giving him a moment to react as you kick his shoulder, sending him careening back before you jump off the bed, yanking your shirt down in the process.

Though you try to sprint for the door, your relief is short lived.

At least the floor is carpeted here, you think gratefully, sparing your head the aching reverberation as your skull bounces off the ground for the second time that evening.

He wrestles you onto your back, keeping you pinned with frightening ease.

You realise in that moment, he’d been allowing you to put up a fight. Though he seemed somewhat lanky at first glance, his torso and arms were corded with muscles. Muscles he used to keep you restrained beneath him as he ripped off your shirt, tearing through it like paper and leaving you stark naked beneath him. Your struggles had been little more than a game to him, one which he’d played along with all evening.

Screams and pleas fall on deaf ears as he snarls down at you, hatred simmering in his eyes. A thin trail of blood drips down from his cheekbone and onto your bare chest, the scratch on his face red and angry from where you’d struck him.

“I was going to be nice, get you all prepped and ready, maybe even give you an orgasm or two. But you’re such an ungrateful fucking whore,” he spits, wrapping his hand around your throat to quieten your wails.

When you continue struggling, thrashing beneath him with flailing limbs, he lifts you up slightly by your throat before slamming you down, knocking the last of your breath from your lungs.

“Now, here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to punish you for that little stunt just now, and then I’ll let my friends upstairs have their way with you too. It’s the least you could do after you were so rude to them, hm?”

You have no words left. No hateful insults, no pleas, no threats, nothing.

All you can do is cry soundlessly as he unbuckles his belt, the metal clinking as he yanks it off and shoves his pants down his thighs, lining himself up with your mostly unprepped entrance.

He slaps your cheek lightly, shaking your head as you try to dissociate from reality.

“Nuh uh, none of that now. I want you here. Pay attention,” he hisses, gripping your jaw tightly before shifting his palm back down to your neck, his grip bruising and painful.

A pained squeak is all the noise you can manage, clawing at his hand on your throat as his cock shoves into your core.

It’s agonising, painful, feeling him force his way into you, violating you.

His hips jerk forward in short spurts, fighting against the resistance of your unprepared core with every stroke, his Jacob’s ladder rubbing your walls raw with each vicious stoke. Tears dampen your temples, burning your eyes, and you wait for the pain to subside as he pushes in to the hilt and stops with a puff, his breathing evening out after a long moment.

The two of you lay there in silence, and you suck in a shuddering, wheezing breath as he released the column of your throat. His hand travels down your bare body, coming to rest on your pubic bone as he uses his thumb to massage tight circles into your clit.

His ministrations leave your legs quaking, and your orgasm overtakes you without warning, slamming into you like a tidal wave as you whine and arch your back off the ground, begging him in broken babbles to stop.

Your pleas fall on deaf ears, and he seems to double down, grinning cruelly as he continues to flick your swollen clit.

“Come on now, you can give me one more,” he coaxes teasingly.

And you do. You cum again, your walls fluttering around his cock as your eyes roll back in your head.

His fingers stop their tortuous movements while you pant, but you’re not granted a reprieve as he grips your hips, lifting them slightly to position the back of your ass on the top of his thighs. He jerks his hips forward, snickering as you gasp and whine before drawing his hips back and slamming forward.

The movement makes your breasts bounce, and he immediately sets an arduous pace.

You dig your fingertips into the carpet beneath you, clinging onto it for dear life as he fucks his way deeper into you, pressing your thighs to your chest.

The noises you let out are disgraceful, moans and whines that would put a pornstar to shame, but your mind feels blank, empty of all thoughts besides the feeling of his cock filling you up, the mind numbing massage of his piercing against your gummy walls.

Touya isn’t much better off. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth and his brow is furrowed, twitching as he grunts and moans each time he bottoms out inside you, feeling your walls suck him in deeper with each stroke. You’re both covered in a light sheen of sweat, panting heavily and trembling with the exertion, and your cheeks still shine with tears.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs. “My sweet little sister, nothing but a dumb little cumslut. What would everyone say if they could see you now, huh?”

His words are hateful and meant to hurt you, but you can’t think, can’t respond in anything but breathless moans as he pulls you closer and picks up the pace.

“Say thank you. Say ‘thank you big brother for making me cum’. Say it.”

He’s as demanding as ever, tweaking your nipples in punishment when you make no attempt to respond, insead laying dumb and drool covered beneath him.

“Say it,” he orders you.

“T-Thank you- fuck- thank you Touya.”

He scoffs, slapping your tits with an open palm.

“Thank you Touya-nii,” he corrects you, squishing your cheeks together with one palm as he shakes your head back and forth.

“Thank you Touya-nii,” you whine, writhing beneath him.

He rewards you by leaning forward and spitting into your squished open mouth, clamping his palm over your mouth as you gag and try to spit it out.

“Ah ah, swallow.”

You do.

He pats your cheek in a gesture that seems almost loving, shifting his fingers down to your clit once more.

“You wanna cum again? Wanna cum on your big brother’s cock?”

It’s a rhetorical question, he’s already forcing you over the edge for the third time that evening, leaving you a twitching, overstimulated mess beneath him.

"It was me, by the way. I used your underwear- I came to tell you Natsuo wouldn't be home tonight, but instead all I find is some lacy white shit."

He chuckles at your horrified expression, groaning at the feeling of your fluttering walls.

“-’m gonna fill you up,” he grunts to himself, gripping your thighs, digging his nails into the tender flesh as he uses your body.

His words fill you with cold dread, but you don’t have time to interject before he stills with a throaty groan, slumping over you as his cock twitches inside you and warmth floods your belly.

“F-Fuck, so good-” he mumbles into your chest as he presses kisses against your tits, still grinding into you as your walls twitch pathetically around him.

He huffs a spiteful laugh at the whine you let out as he pulls out of you, his cum dribbling out of your spent cunt. He lightly slaps your cunt, smirking as your legs twitch, before he sits back on his haunches and tucks his now limp dick back in his pants.

“Up. Get on the bed.”

Your mind, somewhat coherent once more, is in a frenzy.

What the fuck had you just done.

This was wrong. So, so wrong.

What would your parents say? What would your siblings say?

Oh God, if they saw this, saw you…

You feel sick, your stomach roiling as you sit up, shoulders shaking with cold realisation.

Another harsh slap to the face pulls you out of your panicked reverie.

Touya looms above you with cold eyes and an unimpressed expression.

“Get on the fucking bed. Right now. We’re not done here.”

You know by now that fighting is useless. He was so much bigger and stronger than you, so easily able to subdue you. Not to mention the other two men upstairs-

No. Please no.

But your suspicions are confirmed as Touya walks to the door and leaves the room, coming back a moment later with his two friends in tow and a cruel smirk on his face, tutting mockingly at the anguish on your face.

“I did warn you. You have to apologise for your bad manners. Come on sweetie, be a good girl for them, yeah?”

None of them wait for a response, both Keigo and Tomura pulling their aching, leaking cocks from their pants as they hover above you, leering down like a pack of hyenas.

Touya doesn’t slap you when you try to dissociate this time, content to let his friends use you while he lounges in the armchair in the corner of the room, watching with a disinterested expression. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he seemed bored.

Keigo seems to have some sick fascination with your mouth, shoving his cock down your throat without warning or preparation and letting out a throaty moan as your throat convulses around him.

His palm remains locked around your neck, watching with rapt attention as your throat works awkwardly around the thick intrusion.

You’re almost thankful for the distraction of his cock, for the way Touya had stretched you out minutes prior, when you see the length bobbing between Tomura’s legs.

How it was possible for someone to be that big, you didn’t want to know.

Your eyes remain transfixed in muted panic on the monstrous member as Tomura makes his way around the bed, propping you up on your knees before he spits on your cunt.

The feeling of a fat glob of spit hitting your entrance and sliding down the length of your slit makes you cringe, shivering in disgust at his actions. You’re not given a moment's warning before you feel the fat head of his cock rubbing against your entrance, trying to pry its way into your tight heat.

A panicked, muffled garble escapes you as you jerk forward, only serving to fit more of Keigo’s length down your throat in your attempt of escape.

Tomura lets out a hiss of displeasure, digging his fingertips into the fat of your hips as he jerks you back towards him, forcing the head of his cock into your pussy.

It hurts, you want to say. It won’t fit, please.

But you can’t. All you can do is choke down gags and sobs as Tomura rips through you. Everytime you think he’s bottomed out, he just keeps going. He keeps going until it feels like he’s pushed through your cervix, until he sits snugly in your stomach.

He doesn’t give you a chance to catch your breath, doesn’t grant you the smallest of breaks like Touya did. Instead, he immediately sets a harsh, forceful pace, and each stroke feels like a punch to the gut.

From his spot in the corner of the room, Touya lets out a low whistle, leaning forward with his forearms resting on his knees.

“Look at ya. You’re loving this, aren’t ya? Hm, if I’d have known being dicked down was all you needed to shut up, I’d have done it ages ago.”

His words flow in one ear and out the other, your sole focus on not choking around Keigo’s length as he bottoms out and keeps you pinned in place with his palm planted on the back of your head.

As much as you try to ignore it, his throaty, vocal moans make your core clench around Tomura who scoffs. “You were right, she really is a whore. I can feel her sucking me in.” Touya only hums in response, watching now with an almost enthralled expression as his two friends plough into you simultaneously. “You probably love this, hah? Dumb little slut.”

The swat he places on your ass leaves a stinging red welt on the smooth flesh.

You’re too lost in the unwanted pleasure to even think about responding. You let your mind wander elsewhere, losing yourself in the toe curling sensation of Tomura’s dick rubbing up against your walls, filling you completely.

Maybe if you pretend it’s someone else, anyone else-

You cum so hard you black out for a moment, losing any and all sensation in your hands and feet as your limbs fill with a strange fuzzy feeling. Your orgasm was so sudden, so unexpected and all-consuming that you struggle to keep yourself conscious and up on all fours, arms and legs trembling as Tomura whines through his teeth.

Keigo grips your hair at the roots, bringing your attention back to his cock as he moans, tilting his head back and flooding your throat with his cum without warning.

He tuts, pulling out of your mouth with a sigh and tapping your chin with his fingers.

“Be a big girl and swallow now, will ya?”

You wince, grimacing as you swallow down his thick, salty seed.

His smirk is devious as he pats your cheek, zipping up his pants and walking over to Touya. He leans down and whispers something in his ear, though their conversation is lost to you as Tomura flattens your chest against the mattress and picks up his pace.

You can’t stop your tongue from lolling out your mouth as he rails into you, your drool forming a puddle beneath you, soaking into the cream duvet. All you can manage is breathless, whiny moans - the only sound in the room besides his own grunts, the slick pattering of your cunt, and the banging of the headboard against the wall.

The thick duvet lays twisted beneath your fingers, and you cling to it desperately as Tomura pants above you like a dog in heat, using your cunt like some glorified fleshlight.

By the time Tomura finishes inside you, you’ve climaxed twice more. He collapses on your back, breathless as he licks a stripe up the ridges of your sweaty spine.

You’re too exhausted to even whine or wrinkle your nose in disgust. It’s all you can do to fight from passing out, puffing from the exertion.

Goosebumps cover you as the sweat cools on your skin, leaving you shivering and sticky.

Touya approaches the bed, murmuring something to Tomura, who grumbles and gets off of you with a grunt before ambling out of the room.

Once only the two of you are left in the thin silence, Touya speaks. His voice is little more than a low murmur as he crouches down next to you, softly brushing the sweaty strands of hair off your face.

“You look so pretty like this. All vulnerable and used… I hope you know how this changes things. You’re mine now. All mine.”

The sentiment makes your stomach curl. If he sees the cold dread on your exhausted face, he doesn’t comment on it, instead pressing a soft, small kiss to your temple.

“Come on, I’ll carry you to your room.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, lifting you off the bed with ease before leaving the basement and making his way through the house, to your room. The sight of the soft, baby pink walls feel surreal after the past few hours. You feel as if you’re violating the clean, pure space of your bedroom, soiling the sheets as Touya sets you down on your bed.

He bustles around your room, grabbing another sleep shirt and tossing it your way before coming to settle down beside you on your bed. You make no move to put on the shirt.

You don’t do much of anything but stare blankly at the wall opposite your bed.

Touya hums softly, stroking your hair.

“Ya not gonna say anything?”

There’s a pause.

“Huh. Okay then… I think you’ll move in with me. Well, Tomura and me, that is. It’s a nice place, you’ll like it.”

Again, a pause. He seems to be waiting for a reaction, a change in facial expression, something.

…

Nothing.

He sighs heavily.

“Come on, don’t be like that. It’s not as if you didn’t enjoy it. You’re lucky it was storming outside and no one’s home. I’m sure the entire neighbourhood would’ve heard you moaning like a whore.”

It’s a jibe, one meant to get a rise out of you.

Nothing.

“...whatever. You’ll come around sooner or later, hah?” he hums, ruffling your hair.

He stands and stretches, seeming to contemplate something for a moment before he sighs again, covering you with a blanket and leaving your room without another word.

Only once the door clicks shut, do you allow yourself to cry, your small sniffles muffled by your pillow.

Despite your fear, your strained emotions, the ache between your thighs and in your jaw…

You fall asleep, curled up in a tight ball beneath a pile of blankets.

Unconsciousness welcomes you with open arms, and you pray that you stay asleep indefinitely, not wanting to wake up and deal with what had happened.

You dream of shadowy figures, larger and faster than you, with glinting silver jewellery and cruel smirks, all looming over you.

And when you wake up hours later, you awake all your belongings packed up in cardboard boxes, and to Touya next to you in bed, his fingers pumping in and out of your core, his other palm massaging your breast.

He nips at your ear, smirking against your neck. "Morning imoto..."

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 7 days ago

Text

Part 32

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 31 🟣 Part 33

A reverse harem vampire AU ft. Mikey, Marshall, August, Sherlock, Charles, Melot and Napoleon

Series summary: Somehow, you've managed to live with your boyfriend and his roommates for months before finding out they're vampires, but the real shock first comes when they find out you have a special quality. A quality the guys would love to make use of...

Warnings: ongoing vampire shenanigans, Melot's ongoing identity crisis, purple (or at the very least lavender) prose, angst, mentions of: child marriage, cheating, (internalized) homophobia, religious trauma, abuse, SA. Mentions of grey sweatpants, inappropriate anger at the inventor of jeans, Awkward Virgin trope, blood, biting, bruising, praise kink, the untimely demise of a shirt, awkward groping, (awkward everything), handjob, blowjob, premature-ish ejaculation, wasting water by taking a shower that later proves to have been absolutely fucking useless, Frotting/rubbing/dry humping (not sure what to call this, tbh. A butt-job?), rimming (eating ass, analingus, pick your fave), light D/s dynamic, light brat behavior, hair pulling, more praise (possibly slight feminisation? Depending on how youd define that?), masturbation, deepthroating, throatfucking, oral creampie, cumswapping/cumkissing, elements of subspace + subdrop, aftercare.

Word count: 14.004 (Yes. 14k. You read that correctly.)

A/N: Well, well, well, what here we have? It started with this sweet ask from @geralts-yenn, and... what can I say? Things got out of hand? (Understatement.)

It quickly became clear to me that there was a lot more to unpack than I had originally counted on, and then the boys turned out to be... well, dirty little whores. So...

I considered making this a bonus-chapter because this is written from Melot's POV, but since it slots into the timeline, I decided against that. I will, however be changing the tense and POV (from past tense to present, and from 2nd person to 1st person POV) from here on out, because over time I've simply come to prefer writing that way. I'll also be writing more chapters from the boys' perspectives—I'm working on one from Leon's POV that isn't too far off in the future (storyline-wise... actual real-life time-wise, one can never know.)

Also: I'm literally begging everyone to come into my comments (or DMs, or asks) to talk about these boys because... Well, I just love them so much. I already did, but it's literally so much worse now, lol.

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @ellethespaceunicorn @summersong69 @mis-lil-red

@sillyrabbit81 @livisss @itsrubberbisquit @ktficworld @proud-aroace-beastie

@plaidcat4815 @wa-ni @lovemusicpart2 @lizzystuffsthings @manysecrets2020

@sarcasmoverlordxo @mysweetlittledesire

I’m afraid to open my eyes, knowing that if I do, I’ll be staring right back into the reflection of my own soul.

There’s no hiding from him—not that I want to. At least, I think I don’t.

I sit still, counting the seconds as they tick away on the clock in the living room. I’m the only one who can hear it from anywhere in the house—anywhere on the property, even. If I try hard enough, that is.

The sound has been my anchor for centuries. Sometimes, it feels more familiar to me than the beating of my own heart. Unsurprisingly, I might add. How could it not be, when everything about me exists for the sole purpose of looking outward.

Oftentimes, my visions have prevented me from gaining a more intimate knowledge of myself, and they continue to do so to this day. It’s been this way throughout my entire existence.

Fourteen hundred years. Fourteen centuries.

My senses are honed to perfection. Beyond it, even—although many would argue the impossibility of the proposition, but it’s exactly what a millennium and a half will do to you.

I know that better than anyone. How could anyone know better? For all we know, I might very well be the oldest vampire on the planet.

The scoff I attempt to choke back finds its way to freedom as a nigh imperceptible faltering in my otherwise steady breathing.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he whispers softly. I feel his fingertips creep closer to mine before they actually do, yet I am startled by the sensation of him touching me.

I resist the urge to pull my hand back, just as I’ve been resisting the urge to flee the room and never return. A part of me, I am most unwilling to admit, even wants to attack.

He wouldn’t stand a chance.

He’d be dead before he even realized I’d moved.

Oh, to become something you’ve been taught to fear—and to think this is hardly my first battle of the sort. I’d give up the hope that they ever get easier, if I hadn’t known for a fact they don’t for the longest time.

‘You like boys.’

These words have haunted my dreams for the past two days. Left me alone for nary a second since the moment they fell freely and innocently from Mike’s beautiful lips.

Spoken with no ill intent, they wrapped themselves around every inch of every branch of my consciousness, constricting it more and more with every last breath I took, their truth so immediately undeniable that I was forced to admit to it.

And that means there is no way back for me now.

When Mike told me that I’d have time for an identity crisis later, I don’t think he realized just how right he was, and I can’t blame him for his ignorance. I don’t doubt for a second that it was completely unintentional.

As much as he hates it when we say it, he is just a baby, born into a fairly secular household in the sixties, but more importantly; involved in all kinds of generally more accepting subcultures from a relatively young age…

He’s had his struggles, of course. But as strange as it is to say, because one has to admit they were significant, they are irrelevant at this current time.

On the other side, we have… well, me.

Forced into a political marriage at fourteen in early medieval Cornwall, to a girl even younger than I was, our wedding night consisting of nothing but a tear-filled pact made between two terrified children under the cover of darkness, to forego the consummation of our marriage.

Instilled in me, a fierce loyalty and the staunch belief that a man lay with no one but his own wife, and a wife with no other person than her husband, I devoted myself to her as best I could, given our circumstances.

That there was no love between us mattered not, for we had been united before God.

Not unlike today, however, inappropriately crude and explicit conversations with my peers had made me far more knowledgeable on the subject of reproduction than I otherwise would have been, given my lacking experience.

For years, I slept by her side, riddled with guilt over our failure to fulfil our marital duties toward one another, praying every waking minute for the ability to be a better husband.

I shed my tears over her betrayal in private as I prepared to welcome a child into my life—a child I knew couldn’t possibly be mine.

Every day of my life, I am grateful for the existence of specialized historical trauma psychologists: They were of indescribable and immeasurable value when I was struggling to unite the unpleasant aspects of my upbringing and ‘early’ non-human life—the first thousand years, give or take—with the modern world I somehow found myself in rather more suddenly than I had ever expected.

The past certainly has a way of sneaking up on you, but I wouldn’t dream of underestimating the present in that particular respect.

Alas, as helpful as my therapists have been, their efforts feel wasted in this moment, because Mike dragged me onto a new road of self-discovery that appears to contain several unexpected challenges.

Challenges I am afraid of.

Challenges I am ashamed of.

As mentioned before: for the second time in my fourteen hundred years, I have become something I was taught to fear, and despite my convictions that I had overcome my prejudices, that I had moved past this darkness of fear and hatred, it seems to be the case that nothing could be further from the truth.

A shocking revelation. Truly.

I find no solace in the fact that I was never taught to hate, though it is true. One is almost never directly taught to hate, for the simple reason that it is far easier to teach fear than hatred.

But fear breeds hatred.

I learned to fear the sin, which led me to hate the sinner, and there is no excuse for that.

This, I have always known.

Over time—more time than I care to admit—my hatred disappeared, and I took pride in that, for I had shown growth, and an ability to learn and adapt.

I had evolved.

How upsetting it is, then, to be forced to come to the realization that somewhere along the line, I seem to have come to the conclusion that to cease fearing for others’ condemnation would suffice in terms of accepting them.

In other words: If they want to go to hell, let them!

And now that it’s me, I find that I suffer still from that very same fear of a god I have long since stopped believing in.

The line between truly knowing that something isn’t sinful, and simply not caring when others sin, is remarkably thin.

And I am standing right on top of it.

“It wouldn’t help,” Mike whispers, just as my desire to ask him what I want surges, threatening to wash me away.

Two lonely tears escape my still closed eyes, allowing me to focus on their path down my cheeks as they fight the resistance my skin provides.

I thank them silently.

“Why not?” There is no point in trying to keep the defeat from shining through in my voice.

“Because you want it all,” he replies. I expect to hear pity in his voice, and its absence surprises me nearly as much as his answer. No matter how much I want to ask him, my voice refuses to lend me its cooperation.

Not that it matters. After all, Mike knows.

“There is no ‘one desire’, Melot,” he continues, making me shiver as he drags a single finger down the back of my hand. “In the past thirty seconds alone, you’ve cycled through ‘fight, flight, freeze’ more times than I can count. You want to jump me—either to kiss me or kill me. You want to run, hide, talk, think, cry, scream, punch something—not me, please. You want answers, and to desperately not need answers because you want there to not be a question that needs answering to begin with.”

“I never wanted to kill you,” I mumble, the characteristic heat of embarrassment creeping up to my cheeks in a staggering tempo.

Mike chuckles. I’m not proud of what the sound does to me, but good Lord it feels amazing. “That’s the thing, Melmel,” he muses quietly, “the fact that I felt it, means it was a genuine desire. Granted, it didn’t last long, but it was there. And I get it.”

“I was never going—” More tears tread in their predecessors’ footsteps, their heat blending in nicely with the scorching glow of embarrassment that plagues my skin.

“I know,” he reassures me. “You have a whole rational brain I don’t have access to—that’s Marshall’s territory, not mine. My point is: you can’t ‘sorta’ want something. Okay, you can, in the sense that there’s a scale to how much you want something—a range from ‘want’ to ‘need’—but there’s no such thing as a half-desire. A desire is a desire.”

I wince at the implication of his words as guilt washes over me like a tidal wave, while Mike continues: “Your tiny little—but genuine—want to brutally murder me was immediately overshadowed by a very strong need for me to be… not dead.”

“Was there anything useful in the entire list?” I’m surprised by my ability to squeeze out an entire sentence, if I’m being honest.

Mike chuckles again, and my whole body feels like it’s made of carbonated liquid. “The desire to call your therapist is probably a good one,”—he pauses for a moment, letting out a cheeky chuckle—“and I would selfishly vote in favor of any of the many more eh… carnal ones.”

I scoff. He speaks in jest, at least partially, and I refuse to dignify his nonsense with a response, so I move on. “Which is the most, eh… potent?”

“That’s a great way to phrase it, yeah,” Mike confirms. “And it’s definitely your overwhelming—and permanent, by the way—desire to be held by someone.”

I finally open my eyes, staring at Mike wide-eyed in nothing short of pure horror. How disappointing that the floor doesn’t melt away from under me right this second to spare me the mortification…

“Get your priorities straight, Melmel,” Mike admonishes me, a sweet smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You should be way more embarrassed about wanting to kill me than wanting to snuggle up to someone.” He scooches closer to me, quickly adjusting the mountain of pillows as he moves, and puts an arm around my shoulders. “Especially since we share that particular need.”

We sit in silence for a while, Mikey’s head on my shoulder, his arm around me. It triggers my visions, which isn’t at all surprising. In them, I feel none of the shame and guilt I do now—or did, moments ago—which is very reassuring, but as much as I would like to luxuriate in that feeling after my meltdown, Mikey’s much stronger reaction forces me to let them pass, acknowledged but without much further investigation.

He struggles to keep his fingers still, and I am facing similar difficulties in strangling whatever sound I feel I can’t afford to make freely.

“What do you need from me?” I practically have to force the words out of my mouth. “In this… courtship?”

Mike laughs. “As far as definitions go, that’s fair, but do you know a twenty-first-century word?”

“To describe you?” I elbow him in the ribs and roll my eyes. “I know several, and I doubt you’d be happy with any of them.”

“Jerk,” he huffs.

“That was one of them, yes.” I struggle not to laugh when Mike pouts and nudges me, failing miserably, and before I know it, I’m on my back with him hovering over me. My gaze is pulled towards his lips through no fault of my own. In my fourteen hundred years, I have never known anyone who scowls as adorably as Mikey does, and every corner of my thoughts occupied by the sight of his bottom lip sticking out slightly.

Completely involuntarily, my eyes follow the contours of that lip, and my mind gravitates towards images of us. Together.

I—

I bite back the moan that threatens to escape, and fight to regain control of my teeth. “We should talk first,” I manage, my words punctuated by labored breaths.

Mike nods, dropping onto his side next to me and propping himself up on one elbow. “It’s really simple,” he says plainly. Clearly, the past thirty seconds have been less taxing on his self-restraint than they were on mine… “We can take this as slowly as you need, obviously. But I need you to know the difference between what you’re ready for now, and what you know you’ll be ready for in the future.”

I nod. That’s the easy part of the equation.

Unfortunately, Mike may be a clown at times, but he wasn’t born yesterday. “And I need you to stick with the now-boundaries.”

I nod again, much less sure of myself this time, but I promise him to give it my very best effort.

“Of course, I’ll help. If necessary,” he continues. “But I refuse to rely on my gift to guard your limits. I need to know you feel comfortable, and safe, and confident enough to communicate your needs, okay?”

His concern for my safety and wellbeing is almost enough to bring me to tears all over again. If I’ve learned anything in my life, it’s that time does, in fact, not heal all wounds, and although I have come a long way, I cannot deny the lasting—possibly permanent—damage inflicted upon me by the coldest, darkest days of my past.

The times without love.

The times when I had no one but myself to care about me.

I sob my agreement to his terms, rather than say it. The sound of my breaking voice draws his brows together in a pitiful frown.

He bites his lower lip as he contemplates his next words, and I struggle to keep my head clear as his lips once again draw my attention away from the conversation, while the sorrow in his expression has me teetering on the edge of panic.

His expression hardens as he breathes in deeply before looking at me very directly. His eyes are cold, and my heart rate quickens at the sight.

“And,” he says softly but with unmistakable determination, “I’m not doing this behind closed doors.” He looks down, fidgeting with the duvet covers as he continues: “I’m not saying you have to come out to the entire world tomorrow—or explicitly to anyone at all, unless you want to, of course—”

“I wouldn’t even know what to come out as,” I admit almost reluctantly. At this point, I haven’t even begun to think about labels and definitions and whatnot.

“I mean… If we’re going to be dating, then one label that definitely applies is ‘the guy who’s dating Mikey’,” he says matter-of-factly. I have to admit he has a point. “I’m kinda big on PDA—I promise I won’t suck your face off in public, but hugs, or a kiss here and there… Like, I’m not going to let some guy who can’t even hold my hand at the movies, dick me down when we get home.”

He laughs at my expression, and I can’t blame him. I, myself, imagine it to be quite the sight; wide-eyed, mouth opening and closing like a fish on dry land while my entire vocabulary seems to have vacated the premises…

“I’m sorry,” he snickers, “I didn’t mean to scare you. My point is: If you can’t love me in public, you don’t get to love me in private, that’s all.”

“Mikey…” I hesitate, attempting at the same time to swallow away the lump in my throat. It doesn’t work. “I promise—swear, even—that I will try, but I might need some time.”

“Progress, not perfection, Melmel,” Mike says as he leans forward to rest his forehead against mine for a moment. “I just want you to make an effort, okay?”

I nod furiously. Of course, I never truly expected him to toss me aside because I can’t adjust to all of this in a matter of days, but it’s a relief, nonetheless.

Now that my fears have been taken away, more visions come to me. The doom scenarios are entirely of my own making—I learned to tell the difference several centuries ago, but I can’t say that that knowledge has been in any way facilitative to my ability to disregard them.

However, I cannot deny that it is comforting that the majority of them are overwhelmingly positive, setting my body alight with a warm, soothing glow.

It makes me calm.

Happy.

It also makes me…

“For someone who’s struggling to come to terms with all of this,”—Mike’s voice is strained, the sound of it more of a moan than regular speech—“you are incredibly horny.”

My lips tremble as his hand cups the side of my face, his thumb gently trailing over my cheekbone.

I have to swallow before I can even speak. “I’m coming off a fourteen-hundred-year dry spell, Mikey.”

Mike’s eyes go wide with shock, perhaps even terror. “Fourt— w-what?” He looks adorable, his mouth slightly open, brows drawn together in disbelief. “Two days ago… That wasn’t your first kiss, right?”

I chuckle, but not from the heart. “It was certainly the first one I was a willing participant in,” I admit bitterly. The realization bites, digging its filthy, razor-sharp claws deep into my soul. “Not that the collection of instances of the other sort is by any means impressive.”

“Every last one of those is one too many, Melot,” Mike sighs.

I can’t stand to see the pity in his eyes, so I close mine again, focusing on his scent instead.

Every member of my coven—past or present—has an odor so unique to their person that I would happily wager that I’d be able to identify them from a mile away.

With everyone else, smell certainly serves as quite the handy tool when it comes to ascertaining their intentions—hostility, for instance, reveals itself quite readily by means of a distinct and exceptionally foul sour note—or their species—vampires in this day and age always smell faintly of blood and garlic, and however cliché one might deem it, werewolves reek perpetually of wet dog.

And then there’s my own family, blood and garlic aside.

I may have known Sherlock the longest, but I know Charles the best, which is why I can say with absolute confidence that I’d recognize the dark, brooding combination of leather and smoke in my sleep. It’s luxurious and alluring, its complex sophistication undeniable, but at the same time, it’s cold, distant and uninviting. It used to be different, but what little remains of the welcoming seduction of the past, is now dull and faded.

Sherlock, on the other hand—although every bit as strong and refined—smells warm, approachable and comforting, with a very pronounced overtone of sweet vanilla—which Mike, should I ever decide to discuss this particular subject with him, would probably find very typical and likely even funny. At some point in my life, I developed the strange habit of sitting outside Sherlock’s bedroom door when I miss him, just so his scent can comfort me—he has a way of showing up whenever I do.

August and Leon share the dark, bold and spicy edge to their scents. They’re matched for sensual promiscuity, but Leon leans further into the direction of exotic rebelliousness and playful deviance. August smells… calmer. More grounded.

Marshall smells remarkably similar to Sherlock, in a way. Only he trades the sweetness for something crisper and fresher, reminiscent of pine and fresh herbs. It feels almost strangely grounded and familiar, with a quiet strength and weight to it that borders on intimidating.

And then there’s Mike. It should surprise no one that he’s the odd one out, and although I wouldn’t describe the scent as that of bubblegum and jellybeans, I wouldn’t necessarily not describe it as such. It’s a rather untidy fragrance, that has an energetic flamboyance to its almost cacophonous complexity. Touches of woods and herbs ground the otherwise discordant bouquet of lush, tropical fruits and crisp, fresh citrus, combined with a selection of floral aromas that expresses something of a delicate… femininity. It’s youthful, vibrant, playful and mischievous, and more importantly, it’s the best damned thing I’ve ever had the pleasure to smell.

Unthinkingly, I pull Mike closer, the tip of my nose tracing a gentle path up the side of his neck as I inhale deeply, savoring not only the scent, but also his warmth, pulse, and the feeling of his skin against mine as it transitions from the smoothness down by his shoulder to the scratchy stubble of the five o’ clock shadow on his jaw I’m embarrassed to admit I find quite attractive.

My senses are so thoroughly occupied with the attempt to soak up every crumb of these new, delightful experiences that I completely forget to care even the slightest bit about the quiet moan that slips past my lips.

Mike whines impatiently in reply, and when he suddenly moves, I struggle to keep up with the innumerable sensations that wash over me in rapid succession.

His breath on my ear, the delectable feeling of his weight on top of me, the tangling of our legs, his hand at the back of my neck, and its long, slender fingers traveling over my scalp… But much more pressing—and more annoying, I might add—is my acute and absolutely insufferable awareness of the suddenly too thick, coarse and rigid denim of my jeans as it moves over my skin in all the wrong ways while we adjust our position on the bed.

Not to mention that these godforsaken trousers, which fit me perfectly and comfortably less than half an hour ago, suddenly seem too tight—an experience that wouldn’t be unique to my person in the least, if Mike wasn’t very likely completely unbothered by such atrocities sensations due to the fact that he is wearing sweatpants.

Sweatpants which, much to my dismay, contribute to my own discomfort far more than I care to admit.

That is not to say Mike is unaffected by this situation. In fact, the evidence heavily favors the contrary, and the fact that I can feel his pulse… there, in combination with the thought that that means he can probably feel mine in approximately the same location, keeps distracting me from mentally drafting the letter of complaint I wish I had sent to Levi Strauss & Co. back in the 1870s.

I have never wanted out of a pair of trousers—or any other type of garment, for that matter—this badly in my entire existence. And for all the wrong reasons, too, for crying out loud!

A displeased whimper hits my ear, and by the time it dawns on me that I was the one who made it because Mikey suddenly disappeared, an unidentifiable pile of dark grey fabric lands on my stomach.

The person who put it there is standing next to the bed, towering over me with his arms folded across his chest. It would have been intimidating, if not for the hint of a smile that peeks through the stern mask on his face.

Mike points to the bathroom. “They’re sweatpants,” he says impatiently, “go put them on. Now. Please.”

My brain cycles through countless motives and explanations, but I’m so hopelessly behind on processing the events of the past minute, that it comes up completely empty.

I must look at least half as confused as I feel, because Mike can no longer fight back his smile. “Hey, normally I’d tell you to just take the jeans off, but I don’t want us to get ahead of ourselves,” he chuckles. “If this is what it takes to keep you from violently longing to invent time travel so you can smack Jacob W. Davis and Levi Strauss over the head with a comically large wooden mallet, then…”

He makes a series of vague, impatient gestures at me, the sweatpants and in the general direction of the bathroom, all accompanied by an equally impatient and exquisitely adorable whine.

When I laugh, after deciding against telling him how cute he looks, Mike frowns, and his eyes narrow. “Mel, please,” he whines, “I really, really, really want to kiss you.”

Nervous as that makes me, I can’t deny that it’s exactly what I want too, and despite my legs feeling exceptionally uncooperative, I manage to make it to the bathroom in one piece.

I lean my shoulders against the wall, steadying myself as I attempt to regain control over myself, my chest heaving with every new breath.

The cold of the tile creeps through the fabric of my shirt with ease, grounding me.

Soothing me.

My thoughts, which are normally fairly organized, are a mess—an un-unravelable heap of pure chaos.

It’s anarchy!

Mike somehow manages to match the energy of an eight-week-old puppy attempting to herd sheep, with the exact same, very predictable and equally—if not more so—undesirable result.

And I’m the sheep.

I clamp my teeth down on my bottom lip with force until I taste blood, but the visions keep coming.

My fingers—are they mine? If they were, one would assume I would know how to get them to fucking work, correct? When I put these jeans on this morning, this wasn’t the world’s most challenging button, so why won’t it open, for God’s sake?

I swear under my breath, screwing my eyes shut as if to squeeze the last bit of focus out of my brain that way. I must, however, come to the unfortunate conclusion that I am not a tube of toothpaste.

“You’re impossible.” Mike’s voice is hoarse, his chest moves rapidly in time with his equally erratic breathing, and his long fingers close effortlessly around my wrists with punishing force. “Get these hands out of the damn way and let me help you with that.”

Apparently, his wish is my command. Or perhaps, his command is my command. Either way, my hands are out of his way in a flash.

Barely a second later, the button and zipper of this treacherous denim contraption are no longer an obstacle, and I struggle to breathe as Mike leans his forehead against mine, dipping his fingertips tentatively into the now-loosened waistband of my trousers.

He holds me firmly in place as he steps closer, grinding his hips into mine. Out of reflex, I bite down on my lip again, piercing my skin, which lures a soft whine from my throat.

Before I can do anything, Mike passes his tongue over the wound before sucking my bottom lip into his mouth, and I seem to have suddenly forgotten how to breathe altogether.

“Now,” Mike says—‘growls’ would be a more apt description, perhaps, “take these off, put the sweatpants on—or don’t. Strip completely bare-ass naked for all I care, but get in my damn bed, please.”

Hearing my own desperate need echoed in his voice makes my heart stutter—the cruel cold or Mikey’s sudden absence makes me restless.

I rid myself of my jeans as quickly as I can, and as I exchange them for the much more comfortable sweatpants, I can’t resist the urge to squeeze my throbbing erection through the fabric, desperately attempting to fight the thought of how much I need that hand to be his instead of mine.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Mikey snarls, his voice close to my ear and the scorching heat of his body comforting me once again. “I should drag you to bed by your balls, you little tease. Why are you out here wanting all these things, when we can be doing them in there?”

I want to say something, but even if my voice were cooperating, my vocabulary certainly wouldn’t be. In the end, nothing but a pathetic whine escapes me, making Mike chuckle.

He hooks two fingers in the waistband of the sweatpants, no doubt with the intention to tug me along towards the bed, but one catches behind the band of my underwear as well, putting more of me on display than I anticipated. I know Mike well enough to expect him to take a peek—and the urgency with which he does so immediately—and I find myself thoroughly enjoying the look of utter desperation and pure carnal need on his face as he fails to fight off a crooked smile, dragging his tongue along his upper lip.

I struggle to identify the feeling that washes over me, wringing out my insides as Mike’s playful smile widens, his gaze still locked on my groin. There is a strange sense of pride to it. At the same time, waves of anticipation struggle for power against nervousness.

The longer I look at his face, the stronger the anticipation becomes. He’s cute, with his mischievous smile, fangs out as he fights off the ragged corners of the desires he knows would likely push me a tad too far at this time.

But Mike can think of six things either simultaneously or in awe-inspiringly quick succession.

“Why does it happen? The fangs?” he asks quietly, amusement poorly concealed in his tone.

My laughter rings involuntarily, the sound bouncing off the tiles, echoing in my own mind as it once again struggles to keep up with everything that’s happening. “You’ve clearly never lived in a large coven,” I chuckle. “One so powerful that hiding your nature—and teeth—becomes completely unnecessary. Our natural instinct is to have them out. Even after centuries, one must have his wits about him in order to control them, and I don’t know about yours, but mine are halfway to Argentina by now.”

Mike’s grin widens as he takes a step back, finally guiding me back to his bedroom.

When the back of my legs meet the edge of the bed, his eyes darken. “I really want to do some dirty things to you, Melmel,” he whispers. The high-pitched whine that meets my ear must be mine, and unthinkingly I chase the pathetic sound away with a scornful chuckle which, most unfortunately, is followed by a sharp gasp as Mike pulls me closer by my hips until my body is flush against his. “Will you let me?”

The art of speech eludes me still, so I nod.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Mike says as he gently places a hand on either side of my face.

To be overcome with desire does not mean what I thought it did until now in the slightest. As soon as Mike’s lips touch mine, true desperate need comes crashing down on me, drowning out everything else.

His mouth is soft, but firm. His hands gentle as they move from my face, down my chest and stomach, to the sides of my hips, until they reach the back of my thighs. He picks me up effortlessly, of course, wrapping my legs around him before laying me down in the middle of the mattress.

Our moans effortlessly overshadow everything else that attempts to occupy my thoughts, only leaving room to experience pleasure. It’s all-consuming.

Powerful.

Cathartic, even.

Mike’s tongue licks gently at the seam of my lips, which part as if by magic to grant him entrance.

His enthusiasm is infectious, and I greedily reciprocate until…

“Fuck!” Mike pulls back, still laughing when he sticks out his tongue. It’s bleeding. “I forgot you have spare teeth.”

“I’m sorry.” I can’t bear to look at him as guilt washes over me, drowning out all the wonderful feelings from before.

“Don’t be,” he says softly, giving me a reassuring peck on the tip of my nose. “You can poke as many holes in me as you want, this just took me by surprise, that’s all.”

He presses his lips to mine again, this time with significantly more restraint—to start with, that is. Every time he rolls his hips, grinding them into mine, he loses a bit of that control.

I could say the same does not apply to me, but it would be such a blatant lie that it would be laughable at best.

When he bites my lip, he is careful not to break the skin, but the force is still enough to bruise me.

Whatever mark he leaves on me, with very few exceptions, will be gone before we’re even done here. Why does that strike me as such a tragedy?

The last remnants of Mikey’s gentle touch have disappeared now, as his fingertips dig into my shoulders, my hips, my thighs, with brutal force. It would certainly be enough to cause serious harm to someone less sturdy than either of us…

“God, I haven’t done this with another vampire in years,” Mike groans. The sound, deep, dark and dripping with lust, vibrates throughout my entire body.

I know he’s been with nymphs, shifters—were- or otherwise—and demons, and I don’t doubt that there have been many more rendezvous with many more species I haven’t the faintest clue about, but that knowledge proves to be of surprisingly little impact on this moment. “Tell me if I’m too rough with you, Mel. Please.”

Not at all, I wish to scream. I’ll take everything he’s willing to give me and more. So much more.

But I can’t seem to find my voice. Instead, I slide my hands into his shirt on a whim, dragging my nails down his back, reveling in the sense of pride and sensuality I feel as he arches to my… well, ‘touch’ would be quite the understatement, I suppose.

“Guess not, then,” he says with a devious grin as he grabs the hem of the t-shirt I just decided to ignore and pulls it over his head.

I’ve seen him without a shirt, of course. Goodness, I’ve seen him damn near naked on several occasions, but this time…

As he sits there, straddling my thighs, towering over me, my eyes wander down, taking in his broad shoulders, chest and abs. He’s lean, toned, but I wouldn’t describe him as particularly muscular. His pale skin is smooth all the way down to his navel, where my attention is captured by the thin line of dark hair that leads… down.

My hands make their way up his thighs until they rest on his hips, and without realizing, I speak. “You are so beautiful.”

I realize my error instantly, an overpowering sense of confusion surging through me as I watch Mike’s face light up.

“Yeah?” he asks excitedly as I continue my attempt to grasp why he sounds so pleased. My confusion must be apparent, because Mike laughs sweetly. “It’s okay, baby, you can call me beautiful all day, every day. Can I see if you’re pretty too?”

It clicks as soon as the word ‘pretty’ leaves his mouth, and I am suddenly overcome with the fear that he won’t see me that way while Mike fusses with the top button of my shirt.

He groans out of frustration. “Do you have any emotional attachment to this thing?” he growls almost aggressively as he grabs me by the collar of my shirt. I shake my head, once again unable to speak. “Good.”

The fabric tears almost too easily, and several buttons—four, to be exact—find their way onto the floor.

A long, desperate whine meets my ear as Mike rakes his fingers over my chest, down to my stomach, where he traces the faint line of hair with a single finger, all the way down to the waistband of my trousers, while I dig my fingers into his hips with more force than I intended. It makes Mike’s cock twitch, causing it to bump against my thumb, which lures a sharp gasp from me.

Mike reacts to it and the expression that has appeared on my face in the meantime without my knowledge, and certainly without my consent.

“Okay,” he taunts, “my pretty boy wants to play in the big leagues then?”

Despite my nerves, I find myself nodding in reply to his question, attempting once again to swallow the tightness in my throat away.

Mike kisses me, softly but enthusiastically—and most importantly: repeatedly—as he lies down next to me. Heat rises to my cheeks as he flashes me that goofy smile of his.

I was always under the impression that I found that smile particularly annoying. I guess I was wrong.

The one hand that is still on his hip relentlessly attempts to capture my attention, begging me to acknowledge its proximity to the part of Mike that currently has my imagination spinning completely out of control, but I can’t allow myself to comply with its demands just yet. Lord knows I’ll be swiftly rid of any ability to speak, which would be… unfortunate, to say the least.

Not that that particular ability isn’t greatly impaired to begin with, but we needn’t tempt fate further, I would say.

“I’ll be happy to tell you anything you want to know, Melot,” Mike whispers softly as he moves closer to me. It’s the strange fish-on-dry-land-esque performance attached to it that makes me laugh—and much louder than I had intended, too. In fact, I had no intention to laugh at all…

I snap my mouth shut and look away. Surely, my cheeks must be so red they are in fact aglow right now, mustn’t they?

Mike groans loudly, which twists the uncomfortable knot in my stomach, greatly worsening the unwelcome tightness I was already feeling.

To say I am in no way prepared for his words, would be an understatement.

“Mel, dude, Melmel, babe, Melly, my good sir,” he sighs, “where were you when they sent out the memo that this”—he gestures wildly at the both of us—“all of this, like… sex, is supposed to be fun?”

“Well, I—” Just hearing him describe what we’re doing as ‘sex’ brings forward a host of emotions I can either not identify or desperately wish I couldn’t, and it certainly helps my nerves in no imaginable way.

“Like, babygirl, I get it,” he continues, as I try to prevent having to invent a new shade of red to describe the color my cheeks will turn after this one, “you’re nervous. You’ve never done this. You’ve been told not to do this, with… well, pretty much anyone but definitely not another dude—which I’m sure will come back to bite you in that sweet little butt of yours, and we’ll deal with that fall-out together. But if we’re doing this, I need you to lighten up, okay?”

“But… How?” In my entire existence, I have never struggled to speak two simple words the way I did just now.

“For starters, there are two people here who I’m going to need you to not take too seriously,” he says matter-of-factly. “The first one is me, which is already true for… most scenarios outside of this one, I’d say. And the second one is you. You’re allowed to laugh, okay?”

The way he nips at the tip of my nose makes it impossible not to laugh. “Good boy,” Mike muses as I struggle to figure out why it feels so good to hear him say those words.

Without thinking about it, mostly for fear of discouraging myself, I wrap my free arm around him, pulling him tightly against me as I kiss him.

The added pressure of my arm against the small of his back is not enough to satisfy my need, so I boldly and unthinkingly lower my hand until it cups half of Mike’s backside.

Despite my lacking intentions to lose control of myself like this, I find myself feverishly grasping him, pulling him even closer as I dig my fingers into the flesh of his rear.

It’s surprisingly soft, yet surprisingly firm, and I find myself surprisingly eager to explore it further—the whole situation would best be described as, well… surprising, really, and Mike’s ardent whimpering tells me that he is not at all inclined to put an end to my endeavors.

Due to my sudden preoccupation with Mikey’s lovely behind, I am almost robbed of awareness of the fantastic experience of Mike, gently but greedily sliding his hands into my pants as he gently sucks my bottom lip into his mouth.

My grip around his waist slacks as he pulls his face back, still holding my lip firmly between his teeth, and he cocks an eyebrow at me, giving me the courage to mimic his movements.

For a moment, I am surprised to find that Mike is not wearing underwear, and then I remember who I’m in bed with. I’m not saying I should have expected this, but to pretend it’s in any way uncharacteristic, would be a lie.

His skin is smooth and warm, and the salacious moan he lets out catches in his throat, where it morphs into a gasp as my lips seek out his neck.

The urge to bite is strong, and I already know he wouldn’t mind, so…

“Fuck, Mel,” he moans sweetly as I bite down, effortlessly piercing his skin again and again, until his neck and shoulders are littered with marks.

Mike reaches behind his back, grabbing my wrist in order to drag my hand away from his ass, and towards the front of his sweatpants, where his erection strains against the fabric.

He presses my palm against the sizeable bulge while he begs me to bite him again, and I find myself more than happy to oblige.

A chuckle rolls off my tongue as soon as my teeth connect with his skin, and I softly squeeze his twitching cock, which draws the sweetest whimpers from Mike’s gorgeous lips.

“Mel, please,” he whispers, barely managing to squeeze the words out in between soft swearing and labored breaths as he puts his hand over mine and slowly slides it down his hip, into the front of his sweatpants. “I… I need you to…”

My voice is barely more than a breath as I stammer my concerns about my nerves, lack of experience and the fact that I haven’t a clue what to do.

“Doesn’t matter,” Mikey whispers in reply, “just touch me. Please.”

Heat rises to my cheeks again as I desperately attempt to resist the urge to pull my hand back and flee the room. “I-I really don’t know what… how…”

Mike lets out a whine that is a mix between impatience and complete and utter frustration. “What do you mean you don’t know? You have one of these, what do you do with that one?”

Lying to him now would probably not be in my best interest, so I ignore the ever-increasing temperature of my face when I tell him: “I, eh… I don’t really, ehh…”

“Mas-tur-bate,” Mike says with a smile. “Jack off. Jerk off. Beat your meat. Tickle your pickle. Flog your log. I can come up with dozens of these, but I think you got the point. But, like… ever?”

I shrug, fighting the resistance of Mike’s hand against my shoulder as I try to hide my face from him. “Not never, but…”

“We can stop, if you want?” Mike says carefully, even though we both know that’s the very last thing I desire right now. “Or take a little step back?”

I shake my head surprisingly decisively. “I want to try,” I whisper. “I want to make you feel good.”

Mike leans closer to me, bringing his lips up to my ear. “Try again,” he says, the amusement in his voice clear as day, because once again he knows as well as I do that I’m not voicing my true desire.

In truth, I’m burning with violent need, and I am utterly bewildered that it’s even possible to feel nervous enough to overshadow that feeling. Yet here we are…

A low growl escapes me completely involuntarily. “I want to hear you moan and feel you squirm in my arms,” I snarl with more vigor than I originally intended. “And I want it to be because of me.”

His sweet moan, right in my ear, makes me tingle all over, and I barely manage to choke back a whimper of my own.

“Mel, please,” Mikey pleads with me again, “stop overthinking and just grab my d—”

He’s forced to end his sentence with a strangled, high-pitched noise that makes me chuckle as I wrap my fingers around his length.

He presses his forehead against mine as I cup the side of his face with my free hand, trailing my thumb lightly over his cheekbone.

The softest whimper stumbles past his slightly parted lips, and I gladly give in to the urge to touch them as well, savoring the feeling of Mikey’s hot breath against my fingertip.

When his tongue darts out, I take my own lip between my teeth, biting down as he sensually sucks my thumb into his mouth. I admire his confidence as he stares straight into my eyes—into my soul—as he does so.

Slowly, he rolls his hips, thrusting carefully into my hand.

His jaw tightens, and every sound he makes, escapes from behind gritted teeth—the way he’s grinding them almost makes more noise than he does, which I have to admit I find quite bothersome.

“Why are you holding back?” I ask quietly, as I attempt to silence the part of my mind that tells me I must be doing something wrong.

“Because I still can,” he admits reluctantly.

So I am doing s—

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” he says, smiling devilishly as he shimmies out of his sweatpants a bit further. “But truth be told, it’s missing something, eh…”

I patiently wait for him to continue, listening to the whiny noises he makes in protest as I don’t do him the courtesy of pausing the apparently good-but-missing-something handjob I was giving him. Mike is adorable when he gets flustered, and I am more than happy to be responsible for the rosy color on his cheeks.

“Fine,” he grumbles, giving in to his desires at last. “Top drawer of the nightstand. There’s a bottle, you really can’t miss it.”

I venture to retrieve the bottle. It’s… A chuckle escapes without warning as I read the label. “Mikey, why do you own cotton candy flavored lubricant?”

“Because it doesn’t come in jelly bean flavor,” Mike says casually before bringing my attention back to the—pardon me—task at hand. “Don’t be stingy with the stuff, I like it wet.”

Rather than simply not being quite sure what to do—or how much lubricant is an appropriate amount, since I’ve never used anything like it before—I am suddenly overcome with anxiety over the fact that I am now forced to look what I’m doing.

Slowly, I lower my gaze, taking in all of Mike’s body I can along the way. I barely notice how my fangs pierce my lip again when I bite down as my eyes reach their destination.

Mike snatches the bottle from my hand and kindly helps me out by pouring some of the liquid in my hand. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I bring my hand to my mouth, quickly dipping my tongue in the small pool of fluid in my palm.

Unsurprisingly, it’s extremely sweet.

Mike spends this time glaring at me, impatiently squirming and making his displeasure known through a series of whimpers, not stopping until I wrap my hand around his cock again.

As soon as I do, a serene smile spreads across his face, and he sighs while I proceed to coat his member with the slippery substance on my hand.

“Better?” I ask him.

He nods, resting his forehead against mine again. “Fuck yes.”

Apparently, the only thing Mike thinks will stop him from becoming excessively loud now, is crushing his mouth to mine and kissing me like his life depends on it.

His hips move erratically as he thrusts almost frantically into my hand while moans, grunts and desperate whimpers stumble from his mouth into mine.

After some time, I feel his hand close around mine, guiding my grip and the rhythm of my strokes while the fingers of his other hand dig into my back nearly hard enough to draw blood.

He swears, softly at first, but becoming louder as he loses more and more of his restraint.

Even with a vision providing me with advance knowledge of what is going to happen—which is technically so predictable that I should have been able to come up with it myself—I am unprepared for the moment his orgasm arrives.

In hindsight, aiming might have been a good idea, but I honestly couldn’t think of a better place for his release than my stomach.

“Sorry for the mess,” Mike pants against my lips. I can feel the lazy smile on his face in the way his mouth moves against my skin. “Can I help you clean that up?”

The implication in the devilish question sends a jolt of electricity down my spine, and before I can answer, Mike has pressed his lips to my neck, marking the beginning of a slow, teasing descent downward with a playful bite.

As he moves down my body, he turns me onto my back, leaving me helplessly mesmerized by the sight of this gorgeous man making his way down my chest, licking and sucking at my skin every chance he gets.

The feeling is absolutely unmatched by anything I have ever felt before in my life, and I can’t hold back any of the sounds that well up in my throat of their own volition.

The enthusiasm with which Mike licks his own semen off my abdomen is almost awe inspiring, and I watch him closely, barely aware of the fact that my mouth hangs open, which I’m sure must make me look like a complete and utter fool.

When he finishes his task, he shoots a glance up at me in which lies a burning question, and without thinking, I nod in reply.

Eager hands drag down my trousers and pants until my cock springs free, and for a moment, panic takes hold of me. With some effort, I remember the look on Mike’s face when he was ‘accidentally’—if one chooses to believe it was an accident, which I can’t bring myself to do—presented with an opportunity to look at my erection.

The image manages to calm me down fairly effectively.

My reaction when Mike carefully drags the tip of his tongue along the full length of my cock is admittedly quite embarrassing, but I try not to dwell on that thought, electing instead to enjoy the incredible new sensations brought to me by Mike’s mouth.

“So sensitive,” he muses quietly, trailing a teasing finger lightly down the same trajectory as his tongue. “And so pretty.”

I barely manage to resist the urge to cry out in frustration as Mike abandons my member and instead kisses my stomach, hips and thighs, putting his lips absolutely everywhere but where I so desperately want them.

His hands tease me: playful, eager fingers travel up and down my sides with the lightest touch, threatening to drive me completely beside myself with lustful yearning.

“Please!” The word barely makes it out, my voice so strangled I momentarily wonder if Mike even understood me—his devious chuckle confirming that he did.

In the pit of my stomach, pressure simmers. A pressure I probably should have familiarized myself with a lot more over the past fourteen centuries, but it’s recognizable enough as is.

There is no doubt in my mind that Mikey would succeed in bringing me to orgasm without laying another finger—or any other part of his body—directly on my cock.

Shame heats up my cheeks once again as I am forced to admit that, quite frankly, I’m about to burst.

And it is precisely this moment in which Mike decides that the best course of action is to swallow my whole length down to the root.

It's the hideously arrogant raising of that miserable eyebrow of his that ends up dragging me over the edge, and without any warning, I spill my seed into his mouth.

If dying of embarrassment was a possibility, I would have done it dozens, if not hundreds of times over the course of my existence, but none of those instances could hold a candle to what I’m feeling in this moment.

I could positively die of shame.

Mike, however, seems to be completely unfazed by the circumstances. It’s typical, of course, but it’s also infuriating.

“Hey,” he whispers softly, smoothing a hand over my hair. “Don’t feel bad. Come on…”

The next moment, he’s next to the bed, holding out a hand.

“Shower time, Melmel,” he muses happily.

I follow him in silence. Even as he strips me of the pants I put back on before making my way over to the bathroom, or when he ushers me into the shower stall, or when he sweetly and gently caresses me all over to rinse off the remnants of our relations, I remain quiet.

Until we are back in the room, and Mike dives under the covers, leaving me standing there…

“I… Mike, I think I should g—”

“Yeah, that is, like, so not happening,” Mike says, rushing towards me with alarming speed. “You are staying, and that’s an order. Besides, we’re just getting to my favorite part.”

“Didn’t we just do your favorite part?” I ask, my voice thick with bewilderment.

“Ask our girl,” Mike chuckles. “I’m a little cuddle monster.”

He takes both of my hands in his and gently attempts to pull me along. “Back to bed, now.”

I can’t seem to move, other than the involuntary shiver that travels through my body when Mike suddenly appears behind me, pressing his smiling lips to my neck and grabbing my behind. “Are you going to listen to me, or do I have to spank my pretty boy?”

I’m not proud of the way his words bring my cock back to life, but I can’t bring myself to be embarrassed about it, either, even when Mike chuckles devilishly in my ear.

“Was it ‘pretty boy’ or ‘spank’ that’s making this happen?” he asks as he gently palms my stiffening cock.

“Both,” I admit surprisingly willingly. “And ‘my’ might have had something to do with it as well.”

“Do you want to go another round?” Mike asks carefully, no doubt to attempt to hide the heady edge to his voice, as if his growing desire isn’t literally poking me in the back right now.

“I thought you wanted to cuddle,” I whisper, gritting my teeth so as not to moan loudly as my erection pushes more and more firmly against Mike’s hand. Thank God, he’s keeping it still, otherwise I would be completely lost.

“I do,” he whines. “But look what you did to me!” He grinds his cock against my ass. It feels heavenly, as does the feeling of Mike’s breath on my neck as he chuckles when my cock twitches against his palm.

This time, I allow him to push me towards the bed again, and when we reach it, I don’t protest when he bends me over—at first.

Panic briefly washes over me as I think about what he might do to me, but I trust him. I know he would never attempt anything beyond my boundaries, so I relax again, leaning into his touch as his fingers close around my length again.

He strokes me in time with the movement of his hips against my ass as he thrusts slowly between my cheeks, pushing his cock down with his other hand.

When Mike disappears, I whine at the loss, and I try to right myself to see where he’s gone, but his hand, firmly pressing down on the small of my back, stops me. The drawer of the bedside table opens and closes, and the top of a bottle clicks. Moments later, Mikey’s hand, now slick with lubricant, closes around my cock again.

His other hand—now also quite sticky—hooks around my thigh, pulling me back a few steps to give him more space to work with, and I moan in delight as I feel my ass hit his hips again.

Mike gently shushes me, squeezing my ass in a strangely reassuring way when the feeling of his hands running down between my cheeks has me worried for a second. “Don’t worry,” he says calmly. “Just wanted a little less friction.”

I must admit, it feels even better this way. For him, too, if the higher speed of his thrusts and increasing volume of his moans are any indication.

When Mike plants a firm kiss on my spine, between my shoulder blades, I can’t fight back a loud moan as I relish the feeling of his weight on top of me. At the same time, I am terribly disappointed when he stops moving his hips.

“I want to try something, okay?” Mike says. His hand stops moving too, and much to my displeasure, it disappears altogether barely a second later. The only redeeming aspect to this unwelcome behavior, is the trail of sloppy, wet kisses Mike leaves down my back.

I resist the urge to swat him in the head when he sinks his teeth into my rear, and I heal the wound immediately in protest.

Mike, in all his silly, playful Mike-ness, retaliates by making another mark, which I treat in the same manner.

We go back and forth like that for a minute, until Mike growls in frustration. “You’re so fucking lucky you’re cute, Melmel.”

I can hear the pout in his voice, and a grin appears on my face as I spread my legs for Mike without thinking when he moves to grab my cock again, this time by reaching between my legs.

His arm hooks around my hips, holding me in place, and I barely get a second to wonder why.

Mike was more than right to hold me down, because when the tip of his warm, wet tongue touches the tight ring of muscle—

“Mike!” I hiss angrily while I squirm against his solid grasp. That… place has been an exit only for fourteen hundred years, and if he thinks—

A soft kiss on my bottom eases my surging anger. “Put down the pitchfork,” Mike muses, “I just want to touch you. Well… eat you. Give it an honest chance, please? If you don’t like it, you don’t like it, but I think you should try it.”

Mike certainly has a way of inciting one’s curiosity… I take a deep breath before nodding decisively, accompanying the gesture—which Mike can’t see—with an affirmative hum.

Mike continues to stroke me while his tongue gently laps at my puckered hole.

When Mike made his plea, I never pictured a scenario in which I would enjoy this, but to my shame, I must admit that the sensation is quite pleasant. Perhaps a bit more than ‘quite’.

Alright, it feels nothing short of absolutely heavenly! That doesn’t mean I am quite ready to admit that, thank you very much.

Unfortunately, Mike seems to get plenty of confirmation from the way my hips involuntarily move in time with his tongue, rather than his hand.

In fact, after a while, he abandons stroking my cock altogether, using both hands to spread my ass cheeks so he can gain better access to my hole.

I occupy my own hands by pressing a pillow firmly against my face, while crying a continues stream of moans and the occasional expletive into it, and when Mike tentatively passes a fingertip over the tight ring of muscle, I find myself begging him to continue.

“Is this something you want now, or something you know you’ll want in the future?” His tone lets me know there is only one answer he will accept, and it’s not the one I think I want it to be now.

I desperately cry out into the pillow, wanting to voice my protest but finding no words, and I turn onto my back rather dramatically while Mike skillfully dodges my legs.

He remains where he is, raising himself up on his knees so he can lay his head on my hip. The sweet smile on his face as he looks up at me annoys me greatly, and I put the pillow over my face again and scream, before glaring down at him as I prop myself up on my elbows.

“If you’re not going to do to me what you know I think I want you to do to me but don’t yet, then at the very least do to me what we both know I’m incredibly amenable to you doing to me,” I growl.

Mike chuckles. “That almost sounds like you’re asking me to blow you,” he teases.

On a whim, I sit up. With the fingers of one hand twisted into his curls, I pull his head off my thigh.

Mike’s swallows audibly, his eyes wide as he stares up at me. My jaw tightens as he bites his lip, and I cock an eyebrow at him, silently asking my question.

He responds by nodding furiously, and when I attempt to pull my hand back, he grabs my wrist.

With unwavering enthusiasm, he pours some more lubricant on me before getting to work, coating my whole length using both of his hands.

It feels divine, and without thinking I ball my hands into fists to prevent myself from swearing.

Mike lets out a long, sweet moan, leaning into my touch as I unintentionally pull his hair, the noise making me all the more disinclined to relax my grip.

He looks up at me, that godforsaken eyebrow taunting me, and the rest of his face guilty of the exact same thing. He’s clearly testing my patience—and to my surprise, I find that I quite like that.

Stil, no matter how much I enjoy his defiance, my annoyance is real and intense enough to be a leading factor in my behavior.

“You know what I want,” I groan, putting pressure on the back of Mikey’s head, urging his mouth closer to its desired location.

His eyes narrow, and his lips pull into an insufferable smirk as he continues to work my length with both hands, and I attempt to keep my composure while the urge to smack that grin off his face surges to previously undiscovered heights.

Mike’s reaction has me staring at him in shock, his yearnful moan dying down as soon as he sees my face, and his expression morphing into something completely different that has his ears and cheeks turning red in a staggering tempo. It’s…

“So sweet,” I mutter as I loosen my grip on his hair and run my fingers over his scalp in circles. “Be good for me, my love. Let me feel that beautiful mouth.”

When he looks up at me again after pressing a sweet, brief kiss to the underside of my tip, the color on his cheeks has deepened.

I am unsure of the reasons behind the effect it has on me, and right now, I could frankly not care even a hair less.

He’s still challenging me, but the shy approach makes it endearing rather than infuriating. I can’t even convince myself fully that he’s putting on an act: He’s never been particularly good at hiding his true feelings.

Before we started this—all of it, from the very first kiss onward—I never would have imagined that I’d see myself in control of any of this. I pictured myself, completely at the mercy of Mike and his fickle whims. No vision I had could have prepared me for this.

For this sense of agency, and of… dominance.

For the overwhelming sense of pride, and the much more intense yearning for this sweet, eager boy between my knees than I had ever imagined possible.

“Sweet, precious Mikey,” I sigh as he delivers the smallest lick to the tip of my cock. A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I watch him squirm beneath me. My best guess is that I’m not the only one who enjoys being called sweet things.

Where I find the words, and how on Earth I suddenly manage to not only use my voice but also seem to accurately remember fourteen centuries worth of English—though it would be remiss not to acknowledge that I never really caught on to the last two centuries or so—is beyond me, but the fact of the matter is that I do.

Words of encouragement flow freely from my lips as I gently nudge Mike’s head forward. “Wrap those pretty lips around me, sweetheart. I know you want to,” I say softly. “I’ll be so proud of you.” Mike whines, staring up at me with big, innocent eyes. “Be a good boy for me, Mikey. You’d make me so happy.”

Strangely, though the only thing missing from my words are the ones that would make this an outright plea, I don’t feel like I’m begging whatsoever, nor do I feel like I’m somehow pressuring Mike into doing something he doesn’t want to do.

Due to my lacking experience, I should be lacking every shred of confidence I feel, shouldn’t I? I shouldn’t feel so at peace with this, I—

My doubts die a swift, magnificent death the second Mike wraps his lips around my throbbing erection, and I soon find myself completely bewitched by the sight of him as he works more of my length into his mouth.

He’s dropped one hand into his own lap, and the other soon moves to my thigh, where his fingers dig into my flesh every time he goes down. With every stroke, he takes me deeper, until I’m fully seated in his mouth.

When his throat tightens around me briefly, it startles me, and I involuntarily move my hips, forcing Mike to withdraw, sputtering and struggling to breathe.

I, in turn, gasp for air when he spits on my cock. There’s something wildly erotic to it, and to the thin thread of saliva that runs from my tip to the center of his bottom lip.

“Keep going, beautiful,” I gasp. In no way am I too proud to admit that I’m positively aching to feel his lips around me again. “You’re doing so well. You’re such a good boy.”

Mike whimpers, briefly moving the hand with which he’s pleasuring himself quicker, before leaning forward again.

Emboldened by his enthusiasm, I put light pressure on the back of his head and gently thrust my hips forward.

His eyes open wide, and he moans desperately. The vibration created by the sound feels heavenly around my cock, and I push my hips forward again, luring another moan from Mike’s throat.

“Do you… like that?” I ask hesitantly. Surely, it’s better to be safe than sorry in these situations?

Mike hums a vigorous confirmation, his brows drawing together in a deep frown when I ask him—superfluously, apparently—if he wants me to stop.

On instinct, I move closer to the edge of the bed, tightening my grip on Mike’s hair as I thrust forward again—and again… and again.

Soon, there are tears in Mikey’s eyes, and instead of being overwhelmed by guilt, I simply can’t stop thinking about how beautiful he looks—and how incredibly impressed I am with his achievements.

Now, I am hardly under the impression that I have a particularly intimidating manhood where size is concerned, but I would happily place myself somewhat above average without adding any inches for vanity, and on top of that, I’m hardly being as gentle with Mike as I probably should be, thus, I consider my amazement justified.

Mike announces his approaching climax through a series of delectable moans and an increase in the pace at which he sucks me off, his movements stopping exactly when I’m teetering on the edge of orgasm myself.

He pulls back, until the tip of my cock rests on his tongue, and with a few strokes, he seals the deal.

I bite down on my lip while I watch as several thick ropes of my release coat his tongue, the visual so wildly arousing that I briefly worry I will never find anything else even remotely enticing ever again.

“Show me.” I mouth the words, unable to find my voice, as I trail my thumb lightly along Mike’s bottom lip. Audible or not, my words seem to light a devious little fire under him, and after heeding my request, he promptly raises himself up, supporting himself with his hands on my thighs.

My breath catches in my throat, and I swallow hard as Mike leans forward, pressing his lips to mine with vigor.

I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time to be disgusted with myself and my behavior later, but right now I want nothing more than to taste myself on Mike’s tongue—I get slightly more than I bargained for when I open my mouth and feel my thick salty seed flow from Mike’s mouth into mine.

At first, I can’t bring myself to swallow, resisting the urge to spit until an idea takes root in my brain.

I can see the apology on Mike’s lips, but before he speaks, I put him on his back on the mattress, taking a moment to rake my eyes over his chest and abs.

Without wasting any time, I lick the evidence of his orgasm off his stomach, and straddle his hips, bringing my nose to his.

There’s no need for further provocation: Mike opens his mouth, sticking out his tongue so I can deliver on my silent promise.

This should feel disgusting. By pretty much any standard, but most of all mine—or rather; the ones that have been pounded into me over the years, either figuratively or, if I was particularly unfortunate, literally.

Instead, a serenity that borders on a sense of heavenly bliss washes over me while Mike and I go back and forth spitting a combination of our semen and saliva into each other’s mouths…

I—

Mike chuckles and falls back to the mattress, taking a moment to catch his breath before pulling me down on top of him. “If I came in while you were trying to watch a movie and I randomly spit a fat load of cum in your mouth, you probably wouldn’t appreciate that,” he says. His words seem so out of place that at first, I struggle to wrap my head around them, until I realize I must have looked… I couldn’t tell you how I looked, exactly, but my face must have expressed my thoughts in a way that prompted Mikey to launch into an explanation. “Welcome to your first ‘it seemed like a good idea at the time’-moment. It won’t be the last.”

“That doesn’t dispute the accusation that it was, in fact, disgusting. At all,” I mutter against the skin of his neck, hiding my scorching—and therefore probably beet-red—face from him.

Mike sits up again, wrapping his arms around my waist as he does, pulling me even closer. “Melmel… Sex is kinda disgusting. And embarrassing.” He punctuates his words with small kisses to my shoulder and neck. “And sticky, and sweaty, and messy.”

“You might want to put a positive spin on this,” I grumble. “Soon.”

“The point is,” he replies, pulling my head off his shoulder and holding it in both hands so that I’m forced to look at him. “When you’re with the right people, none of that matters.”

One look into his eyes, and I know…

“Well, I’m glad I’m with the right people then,” I murmur, leaning in for another kiss.

When Mike breaks away, he suggests we take another shower, and I’m hardly inclined to decline the offer. He wasn’t exactly lying about ‘sticky’ and ‘sweaty’ in his list of less-than-ideal side effects to sexual relations.

This time, Mike is the one that goes strangely quiet while we clean ourselves—and, both notably and regrettably, not each other—up.

“Mikey?” I ask carefully. “What’s wrong?”

My heart breaks when Mike drops to the floor, suddenly sobbing uncontrollably, crawling back into the corner and sitting there with his arms locked around his knees, vigorously shaking his head in reply to my question.

“Mike,” I say sternly as my attempts to pluck him off the floor fail miserably. I do, however, manage to pull him off the wall just far enough that I can sit down behind him, and when I lock my legs around him, he knows he won’t be going anywhere, so he gives in to my touch. “You will talk to me.”

When he moves again, I let him, both knowing that he might be a fool, but not such a big one that he expects to be able to run from me, and knowing—vision-wise—he won’t try. He simply wants to turn the shower head our way because he’s cold.

He sits down in my lap, and I wrap my arms tightly around him, waiting patiently until he feels ready to speak about what’s going on with him.

Another deep, shaky breath, and he starts talking: “This just took a turn… And you’re so new to all of this, I never thought… I should have… But I couldn’t have known, so… And everything was going well, and it was all good, and I was teasing you and so stoked to be showing you all these new, wonderful things and… And then things got turned around, somehow… and suddenly you were… you… And I… I…”

I let him cry for a while, just holding him, tucking him tightly against my chest as I smooth my hands over his back and sides, repeating the phrase ‘shh, it’s okay’ more times than I care to admit because I simply can’t come up with anything else.

After a while, his breathing steadies, and the sobbing comes to an end. “I’m sorry,” he says, clearing his throat. “Not in a ‘I have something to apologize for’ kind of way, but more like… ‘I feel bad for dumping this on you all of a sudden’ kind of way.”

“That’s alright,” I reply truthfully. “All I want is to take care of you and to make you feel better.”

Mike laughs through the last of his tears. “That’s great,” he says, “because you’re going to have to.”

“Just tell me how,” I say. “And, if at all possible, try to explain why?”

“Right,” Mike says on a slightly embarrassed chuckle. “First off, I shouldn’t have let this happen. Like…” He throws his head back and lets out a frustrated cry. “Okay. During that blowjob just now—I don’t blame you if you didn’t even notice, but…”

“I remember suddenly feeling far more… in charge?” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

Mike nods almost enthusiastically. “I really wouldn’t have blamed you—you looked pretty overstimulated—but, damn, I’m glad you noticed. Eh, long story short, you ended up Domming me—dominating, I mean, like… the kinky kind. And you were really good at it, too! So no worries about that, okay? But I should have stopped you, because I know I’m quick to slip into subspace—I’ll explain that later—and it was stupid… well, a little naïve, I guess, of me to think it wouldn’t happen, and…” He takes a moment to catch his breath, and I rub his back while he does.

“A little longer,” I say calmly when he tries to continue his story. My visions are exceptionally helpful in this type of situation, and I don’t want Mike to start hyperventilating.

“Thanks,” he says sincerely after a few more deep breaths. “The… I just… I freaked out because I need someone to take care of me—you, to be specific—but I should be the one taking care of you after your first time… Things just got a little messy.”

“Is there any reason we can’t be taking care of each other?” I ask, taking a moment to think about my own needs at this time. The very first one is for Mikey to feel better. “I think that, after this shower, I would like to watch a movie in bed, and stay very, very close to you.”

“Yeah,” Mike sighs happily. “That works for me.”

When we finish our shower, I dry myself off quickly, only to find Mike still standing next to me, soaking wet, when I’m done. He hesitantly holds his towel out to me.

“Please take care of me,” he mumbles, his voice small and soft. He’s avoiding eye contact, biting his lip and constantly shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“I never want you to be afraid to ask me that, Mike,” I say slowly, enunciating every word carefully as I take the towel from him.

There’s something wonderful about this. I dry every part of Mike’s gorgeous body with extreme care. When I first resist the urge to press my lips to his skin, Mike laughs.

“You can still kiss me, Melot,” he muses. “Actually, I’d really like it if you did.”

At that moment, things finally connect in my head. “You need to feel loved.”

“Yeah,” Mike says, nodding slowly. “Put bluntly, I need to know you see me as more than the piece of meat you throatfucked back there.”

Before I can respond, he continues: “I know you don’t see me that way! I mean, maybe you did when you—”

“I was mostly very impressed with your skills,” I admit reluctantly. It’s my turn to blush once again. At least we’re both suffering that terrible affliction this time.

“Thanks,” he says with a smile. “Decades of practice.”

“I think you have put in more hours than most people your age,” I joke before nipping at the tip of his nose.

Mike glares at me. “Well, apparently I have put in more hours than some people your age, so…”

“Hey!” I stick my tongue out at him. “Stop bullying me, or I will—”

“Whatever you say next,” Mike interjects quickly, “never threaten to skip aftercare. Just… little PSA, I guess.”

“Oh, I was simply going to suggest we put on an episode of Downton Abbey and I point out all the historical inaccuracies,” I say plainly.

Mike shudders. “That would actually be worse…”

Mere seconds after we finally get settled in bed, there’s a knock on the door—of course, a few seconds after that, there’s an actual knock on the door. One that isn’t a figment of my… Well, I suppose both ‘figment’ and ‘imagination’ would be inaccurate.

Still, Mike and I look at each other, neither of us in any way inclined to actually see whose unfortunate timing we’re dealing with.

“Melot, can I see you for a second?” It’s Marshall.

Even though I’m wearing pants, I scramble to find the nearest pair of sweatpants and put them on—after Mike gives it a quick inspection. Quick thinking on his part, I must admit.

When I open the door, I open it wide enough to speak to Marshall, but not so wide that he can look into the room.

It makes him chuckle. “I’ve seen him in much worse states than simply naked,” he muses, but doesn’t otherwise protest the minimal state of ajar-ness of the door. “August and I thought you could use this.” He holds out a tray. One side is loaded with snacks—cheese, fruit, crackers… the lack of jellybeans might disappoint Mike—while the other side holds two bottles of water, glasses, and a pitcher of strawberry lemonade—Mike’s favorite. “Keep him warm and hydrated. And see if he wants to eat something. He’ll say he’s not hungry, but… Take care of him, okay?”

“I will,” I promise as I let go of the door to take the tray from Marshall. As soon as I do, someone—must be Mike—yanks the door open. He narrowly misses me as he practically jumps into Marshall’s arms.

“Thank you,” Mike mutters as Marshall hugs him tight to his chest, indeed not caring that Mike is still very much completely nude. “I love you.”

“I know,” Marshall replies with a somber smile. “I love you too. Always have, always will. Go be with your… boyfriend?”

“Official status TBD,” Mike chuckles as he releases Marshall from his grasp. “But at the very least I think we can say we’re hooking up.”

“Well, whatever the case, take care of each other. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He disappears before either of us can say another word, so we take the food inside and close the door behind us again, making sure to lock it as well.

“What happened between you two?” I ask carefully as we get comfortable under the covers.

Mike shrugs. “Nothing happened. It’s like… We’re as close as we’ve always been, just in a different way. We could never be in a monogamous relationship with each other, that would be weird, for some reason, but with Sweetcheeks in the mix, some old stuff has been coming back, and we’re figuring that out. Not in a very proactive way, I have to admit.” He picks a cube of cheese off the plate.

“So I might have to share you with another person, then?” I ask, jokingly poking at his ribs. The thought should devastate me. Shred my insides like a swarm of angry wasps is wreaking havoc on them.

Instead, I feel completely calm.

“I’m a bottomless pit of love,” Mike says with his mouth already full—yet he stuffs three more cubes of cheese and a few slices of cured sausage in there.

“You know, there’s fruits and vegetables on this plate, right?” I say when he swallows the obscene amount of food—which I’m sure he considered ‘a bite’.

“Fine, you have discovered the limits of my affection,” he jokes. “Hey!”

The first grape I chuck at his face bounces off his forehead, and I catch it before it hits the plate again. On the second try, Mike catches it in his mouth.

The third lands directly in his lap—I can’t seem to come to an agreement with myself as to whether or not that happened on purpose, but I happily put the situation to good use by retrieving the rogue fruit with my mouth, not neglecting to press a teasing kiss to Mikey’s soft cock.

“No,” he warns me, drawing out the ‘o’ as he shakes his head. “I mean… Yes! But no.”

For a moment—one of the kind that sets your soul alight and seems to last forever—we just smile at each other as we stare into each other’s eyes.

In my entire existence, I have never felt as safe as I do now.

Or as loved.

Or as at home.

Or as at peace.

“You were right,” I whisper after a while, as I let go of my fears, and my doubts, and my past.

Just for now.

And for him.

Only for him.

“I’m entirely unsurprised,” he chuckles. “But, eh… what about?”

I swallow hard before looking him right in the eye.

“I like boys.”

19 notes · View notes

reginas-toy · 3 days ago

Text

Purpose 'Knee deep'

Brought to you by:

Addison Rae: Aquamarine, Diet pepsi (I just rlly like the songs tbh)

Warnings: I mean it is smut so the usual stuff Ig?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

I'll add later cause I don't think it's on Tumblr

Chapter 3 can be standalone

Enid

Enid couldn't believe it! It had been a month of her and her roomie doing the whole dating/dancing the devil's tango thingy. Oh, how she loved it! The freedom to kiss that beautiful face every day, seeing Willa's freckles from close up, laying in her lap, feeling as if everything would be fine.

I mean she didn't mind the other stuff either. The collar had just become a normal part of her wardrobe sort of like a choker to those that were not in the know. And the love making was nice too. She laughed when she remembered her first impressions of her now gf.

'She's very hot cute, but rather distant and unenthusiastic.' was a direct quote from her diary and yes, Wednesday could be like that, but when it came to Enid she was very enthusiastic (especially in fucking her just right).

Talking of such things Enid learned not to judge a book by its cover or perhaps the complete opposite, she never knew to be honest. From Willa's proper manners and all she put her down as an kooky academic with some quirks but not much in pleasure. From her looks, however, she made more of a right assumption that Wednesday was

Kinky as all fuck and not afraid to show it. and

She was over prepped with gear.

If Enid were to believe such a thing to be true, she'd say Willa had a Mary Poppins-esque bigger-on-the-inside bag of magical straps, bindings, dildoes and whatever-have-you's. Then again magic was a thing so why should her girlfriend have a kink TARDIS. (Yes, she knows what that is, thank you very much, her aunt from canada gave her some of her DVDs of episodes from the 80s and she watched them religiously)

Anyways! Today was the special day! One whole ass month AND Willa was taking her for dinner in the evening! She could die how happy she was. (But will not, cause it's not that type of fic)

The lessons flew by in what seemed like seconds, tho that might just be because Enid was day dreaming like her life depended on it. (It didn't) Her satisfaction however was a whole different thing. Day dreaming about Wednesday and how magical she was in bed (and not just with cards) was making Enid regret having chosen to wear a skirt that may have been a lil too revealing of her excitement at the wrong angles. So she had to be really attentive to her skirt's movements unless she wanted to give Nevermore a show. But she didn't, even with everything that happened in the past month, exhibitionism was scary and she would like to keep the list of people who have seen her naked/ wet to a respectable three. (Her current girlfriend and her best friends Yoko and Divina who she lived with for a bit and God forbid a girl runs across the common area naked a few times, well strides but that's besides the point)

Finally, she opened the door to her room. Willa wasn't there, because she was doing her fencing classes with Bianca (Who Enid had to admit she had had a crush on at the start of her nevermore days). She looked at her bed on which there was a note:

'Out fencing will be back at Four. See you then. Kisses -W'

Oh eeeeemmm geee, how considerate of Willa.

With it now being just after two, she had a good hour and a half to lay in her bed and relax. So being the gen Z icon that she is she took out her phone, fell not so gracefully into her bed and started scrolling TikTok. At first it was nothing too out of the ordinary, your usual clips of tv shows and edits of Chappell Roan. But then this attractive goth popped up on her FYP seductively dancing to Billie Eilish's verse on Guess.

FUCK.

Enid didn't want thisssss, she just wanted to relax, but it was already too late. Her hand was slithering down to her jeans, slowly undoing the button. Once they were lose enough for her hand to fit it continued its journey past her cute heart-shaped bush down her pink lace panties (Ofc they were pink). Her whole body shivered as her cold-ish hand made contact with her cunt. The phone was (safely) discarded (thrown) on her bed and she was deep in her fantasies thinking about Willa doing that dance and then going down on her. OH HOW cute she was eating Enid out, her eyes showing so much emotion, seeing if the werewolf was sufficiently being satisfied ughFUCsuafjihb. fuckfuckFUCK. It felt so gooooooddd mmmmmmmmPlease.

Enid was starting to feel hot and sweaty from the feeling of her fingers mixing with memories of Wednesday's warm breath against her cunt as she was about to eat Enid out, that mixing with all sorts of fantasies.

It all started crystalizing into an almost clear view in Enid's head jiojfgc. As she got FUCK closer and ijoerfa oh Willa closer Her breath becoming more erratic, her fingers moving faster and faster and faasfhjniokerf. A familiar feeling rose up in her stomach slowly, until she couldn't control it at all, stopping it now was not an option she was just over the edge and for a moment a split second a calmness came over her until

aHFeu7dio AFUCKFUCKWEDNESDAY PELEASE auuurfchfwoofereafd a wave of pleasure washed all over her making her moan. Meanwhile her panties were being ruined by the lavender tasting mixture that was her cum.

She quickly grabbed her phone turned on the camera, lifted her pants and panties so you could see the mess she made and snapped a pic.

Wednesday

Finally the fencing finished and she was free of her responsibilities. She and Bianca alongside Yoko went to the changing room. Getting out of the uniform felt rather freeing. Bianca and Yoko chatted about gossip or what have you as they took off their kits. Wednesday wasn't one for looking where she doesn't need to (or at least that was the lie she told herself) But she could afford a peek at her "Opponent's" bodies. There was something to them, not much compared to that of Enid, but still, a girl can indulge herself sometimes surely.

She saw her phone light up:

Enid

sent you a photo

Hm, that was curious, she was one for an overabundance of pictures, but one thought? Now that WAS interesting. She opened her phone and clicked on Enid. Outside there was no notable change to how Wednesday was, except for her crossing her legs. Inside however was a whole different matter.

A picture of Enid's perfect folds, still a little warmer in colour from touching, her favourite underwear cum stained. Wednesday could practically smell that smell and imagine herself in between those thighs. Oh what a bad girl ms. Sinclair was.

Rather hurriedly, to the surprise of Yoko and Bianca, Wednesday threw on a shirt and jeans and practically leapt out of where she was sitting and straight out the door.

Yoko chuckled

"I guess she couldn’t stay focused around such hot bods as ours"

"Guess not."

Thankfully their room wasn't that far and Wednesday was there in about ten minutes. She opened the door just to find her girlfriend laying in her own bed. She looked nice like this, peacefully sleeping, her stomach and cunt uncovered. Seemingly fallen asleep right after she sent that photo.

Enid would pay for what she did yet.

Willa climbed on top of Enid, pushing the duvet further down the girl's body. Enid was rather a heavy sleeper so Willa wasn't too worried she'd wake up (just yet). She positioned herself so that one leg was between Enid's. With some skill she put her hands just either side of Enid's head, her hair falling neatly besides. With no warning she pushed her knee into the sleeping girl's cunt and started rubbing circles. At first Enid moaned and writhed around unconscious, but soon enough, the dark haired girl saw her slowly open her eyes and almost yelp in surprise. Willa gave her a kiss, before ceasing her pleasing and falling to Enid's side.

"Hey! I was enjoying that"

"I bet you were pup, but the world's a cruel place and as we learned you don't always get what you want.'

"So it is" Enid sighed.

"Now, you have some work to do don't you?"

"Do I?"

" Oh please, you think you can just tease me like that and get away with it? No, if you want to be a slut at least have the audacity to follow through."

"hm, that so? Well then…" Enid said murred taking Wednesday's body and placing it at the center of the bed, before taking off the raven's jeans. "OH my! Ha so it did work mmm?"

"I guess so, now be a good pup and get on with it" Willa roared out.

And before she could say anything else her pup of a girlfriend had pushed her panties to one side and started slowly kissing Willa's thighs, making her way down them. Wednesday was gonna go INSANE. She grabbed Enid's head and pushed it into her cunt. Enid's tongue was careful at first, going slow making Willa grab at Enid's head harder. Having understood her task, Enid started going faster with every few seconds, by the end Enid was like a proper good pup, lapping at Wednesday's cunt as she was wide eyed and more in love than she'd ever been. Mmmmmm it felt so good she…. She couldn't hold it back, that damn Sinclair girl made her look a fool again, oh but she loved this. With that the yummy juices sprayed right onto Enid's face, she then wiped them away with her fingers and licked them off.

"We should probably get ready, love." Enid said as if nothing had happened.

"Wha…"

"I'm staaarving"

"Alright, mi lobita, just gimme a sec."

Wow, 1.7k words y'all it's been a while and I'm sorry, I was finishing 'Research' and then I started Uni so all that was hectic. But I'm back writing my silly smut. And dw they're going to the restaurant next chapter, I wanted to in this one, but it's not my fault Wednesday decided to fool around before going out.

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janitorsupplies · 4 months ago

Text

a gripe about the boys s4 finale + more

[big fat diabolical spoilers for the s4 finale]

tw: general the boys stuff,, Hughie's r*pe

after thinkin for a little while i'm not happy about the finale tbh !

and its not that i don't like it in the way that i don't like how it turned out, i think it leaves room for an excellent final season (i will wait 2 years for that, ong), i more so think that the characters in the episode acted,,, uncharacteristically?

acted not like themselves

acted out of character, yeahh

from what we've seen of sage this season (so glad she lived btw), i don't think she would just, y'know, stroll into Homelander's room, gloating like that i thought it had been established that she didn't fw Homelander anymore, especially now she's been fired, and she's smart enough to know how much of a loose cannon Homelander could be, and that if she says the wrong thing she just gets lasered (i was shitting myself hoping that wouldn't happen)

and also how tf did she even get in Vought tower?? wouldn't the other members stop her??

and then there's butcher's reaction to grace's death, like damn, i don't think Billy fucking butcher is just gonna say nothing when one of the few people he trusts gets killed right in front of him (BY HIS SON TOO??), like how is he not shouting mad??

and then he just up and kills Neuman like bruh did Hughie's talk to him mean fuckin nothing or something like, he brings up Lenny for gods sake and butcher just,, says nothing?? it's been established over the season that he's not listening to monkey at all now he knows he's not real and on that, where the fuck is Becca in his head?? what's she doing?? speak tf up, stop him

and Ryan,, Ryan wouldn't just shove his basically adoptive grandma out of anger like that, at least i don't think he would.

and this is a little difficult to explain but i don't think annie would react like that towards Hughie engaging with the carbon-copy shapeshifted Annie. like he did not know it was not her. how would he know?? i feel like Annie would've been understand of that at least, if not annoyed, but not enough to go off on him like he did something wrong

this also brings up the point of Hughie just being Kripke's punching bag for the whole damn show,, like i thought he had a character progression of becoming more brave, but nah he's just getting fucked from all directions and its written for comedy most of the time (pretty sure Kripke said that Hughie's rape scene was written for comedy,,, ha ha funny)

i'm getting distracted now, might add more to this later if i feel like it

but hey, a-train lives baby CANT STOP THE A TRAIN BABY

(EDIT) I JUST REMEMBERED THEY ENDED IT WITH NIRVANA?? FUCK YOU!!!1 FUCK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! KIMIKO SPEAKING?? FUCK YOU!!!!!!!!! FUCK!!!

oh and yeah, kate really does ruin everything, huh.

another thing i forgot did they make kimiko worse while fighting the shifter?? i feel like she woulda easily been able to drop that mf right there, but nah she gets her neck snapped ggez

#the boys #theboys #billy butcher #homelander #starlight #CAN'T STOP THE A-TRAIN BABY #YEAHH #first time doing a proper post like this actually #now i must rot #waiting for season 5

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leeknowsnot · 1 year ago

Text

rental romance (i.n x reader)

genre: fluff, retro setting: 80s warnings: none tbh, ok maybe a short mention of early pregnancy but it's not that major. it's not even relevant to the story lol

Series: Retro Series

hii!! this will be the first ever imagine that i'm posting for this blog. it will also be the first to the ot8 retro series that i'll be making so i hope you enjoy!!

note: idrk if i should add this as note but f/n stands for your friend's name ^^

links: chan minho changbin hyunjin han felix seungmin

The school bell rang, eliciting a cheer from almost every student, including you. It was the last day before summer vacation, and no one could wish for more than the last minute to end. As your professor waved her hand goodbye, wishing everyone a happy vacation with an amused smile on her face, you stretched out your arms and legs.

You could swear you heard some pop, but you could never blame your body for not feeling stiff after sitting through five hours of unnecessary lecture about accidental summer pregnancy and foolish teenage adventures during summer. You knew it was just the faculty keeping out for you and the others—considering how someone had “accidents” during the school’s overnight camping trip a few months ago; they didn’t want a replay of that.

You felt a tap on your shoulder, your friend’s grin beaming too close to your face once you turned your head. “Got any plans for summer?” she asked.

You pursed your lips, jutting it in a manner that you always do whenever you think and shrug at her, “I don’t know. I’ll probably rent some VHS and catch up on some movies I haven’t seen ever since my brother broke the VCR. Dad got us a new one after his promotion last week.”

You weren’t exactly the most adventurous person, but you weren’t anti-social either. You just preferred being alone most of the time with your movies, curled in a blanket in the living room, hogging the television set and feasting your eyes on some half-blurry movie that you have managed to get your hands on, keeping the entertainment all to yourself. Though sometimes, you’d end up engrossing the others at home with your endless list of movies to watch. Your choices were always what’s “in”; The Breakfast Club, Fright Night, Ghostbusters—you didn’t mind whatever genre it was. Except for one. Romance.

You didn’t exactly hate romance, but you didn’t like it either. For you, watching Romance movies was... well, it was weird, and you’d rather not risk it and save yourself from the cringe.

Taking your bag from your seat, you both headed out of the classroom, the chattering of other students livening the ever-so crowded hallway. Since today was the last day of the school year, it was denser than ever.

F/N grimaced at you, one of her eyebrows raising. “Didn’t you tell me you didn’t like the lady owner at the store?”

Your nose crinkled, unsure if it was because of the mixed smell of perfume and summer sweat from the other students in the hallway or at the owner of the VHS store you always talked—no, scratch that—complained to your friend about. You decided it was the latter.

“I don’t have any choice F/N, that’s literally the only video rental store in town,” you said.

“You’re right”, she gave you an expression of defeat. “You might as well date that old woman this summer, since you’ll be frequenting her shop.”

“Ew, no. I’m not into older women,” you give her a shove on the shoulder, and she lets out a laugh.

You both were cut off from your conversation when you heard a familiar honk by the street across the school entrance. F/N’s face fell, “Well, I guess I gotta go. Dad’s having his relatives visit tonight and we’re going to eat out at that same diner at the next town.”

It was now your turn to return the favor and tease her back. “Hope you get flirted by that waiter again!”

She let out a frustrated huff at you and rolled her eyes, to which you responded with a laugh. You heard another honk.

“Ugh, fine I’m coming!” you heard her groan as she walked away from you and into her father’s car, waving one last time at you before they sped off—an inaudible sound of him scolding her for leaving the school grounds late, retreating as the car soon joined the sea of cars in the distance.

⊹　　˖　　　　 ̟　　　⊹　　　˙

The distance from your school to the video rental shop wasn’t exactly far so you arrived only a couple of minutes later, on foot.

As the usual bell from the small entrance door jingled at your entrance, the familiar smell of the store welcomed you. It was always a mixture of wet wood, dry cardboard, vinyl tapes, and the lady owner’s disturbingly fragrant perfume. However, her perfume wasn’t what trickled your nostrils, but a different perfume. It was musky, a bit fresh, you thought. Either way, it was different from what you were used to.

When you turned into a corner and towards the counter, you expected to see the old woman rubbing on the back of some vinyl disc, as what she would always do each time you visit for a rental. But it was a different person behind the long wooden table this time.

It was a guy, dressed in a white collared shirt that was tucked in his jeans, and a—what even is that.

‘Is that a floral beach shirt on top?’ you laugh to yourself. You tried so hard not to chortle at his untimely choice of fashion while manning a store, but a snort escaped between your lips and caught his attention.

He raises his eyebrows at you and smiles, “Welcome! Anything I can assist you with? We have some new arrivals from this morning’s delivery.”

You could swear his eyes disappeared momentarily when he beamed at you. You cleared your throat, landing your eyes everywhere but him at embarrassment over the possibility that he could have caught you staring at him and silently ridiculing him for wearing a beach shirt outside of the beach.

“I uh... I was just wondering where the owner was since I haven’t really seen you before,” you said, trying to talk your way out of being caught red-handed.

“Oh, she’s not here. I’m the new store employee, it’s my first shift!” And he bought it with a smile. Well, he technically didn’t see you anyway since he was too busy updating the shop list, but you felt it was necessary to play safe anyway.

You nodded your head, your mouth slightly agape as you silently mouthed a quiet hum. “I see...”

At least I don’t have to deal with her cranky attitude anymore, you thought.

He walked out from the back of the counter and towards you, his whole stature finally revealing itself as the counter was tall enough to cover below his chest. At the end of the lace that hung on his neck was an employee identification card and sure enough, he is an employee at the store, seeing that the logo was plastered beside his picture—in which you thought that the logo was unnecessarily huge.

Yang Jeong In, it read.

From up close, you thought that he was cute. Well, compared to those brutes and try-hards at your school anyway. He was slightly taller than you are too, and the whiffs of his perfume reached your nostrils more than it did earlier.

“The new movie tapes are in that shelf over there,” he pointed with his thumb.

You blinked, remembering the cassette that was inside your bag—the idea of possibly making a bad impression on the new employee not lost at the back of your brain. “Actually,” you paused, fishing your bag for the cassette tape. “I’m also here to return a movie I borrowed a couple of weeks ago.”

You hand him the copy of The Outsiders that you had been meaning to return since two weeks ago. He returned to the back of the counter again, his face disappearing as he bowed his head down at whatever logbook he was writing in from earlier, leaving you to stare at a couple of his hair strands poking out from the prim wax finish that looked like it had been rushed upon application.

“It’s uh... It’s past due,” you can hear him scratch his head. “For about almost a month now.”

You let out a sheepish laugh, tapping on the strap of your bag. “Yeah, about that... I wanted to return it as soon as I finished it, but school was...” you trailed off. Yeah, not a very valid reason.

You heard him tap the counter from behind twice before he poked his head out at you with a smile. “Okay, I’ll just fill this in,” he said before his face disappeared behind the counter again.

You decided it was best not to question him anymore and took a walk around the store, running your fingers around some movie tapes and musing inside your head about what and what you have not yet watched. You stopped at a shelf where the employee said they had new arrivals. There were various titles that weren’t familiar indeed and you had the worst indecisive trait, so you lingered on your spot, staring at the multiple movies.

“I recommend giving Gregory’s Girl a watch,” the new employee from behind you suddenly spoke.

You jumped in surprise at his sudden presence, both hands clutched at your chest. It was now his turn to snort in amusement. You were too focused on eyeing the movies that you didn’t notice him leaving the counter and walking up behind you.

“I’m not a fan of romance,” you blinked, recovering yourself from the untimely fright that he had given you. He tilted his head slightly, both eyebrows raised.

“It’s both a combination of romance and comedy. It’s good,” he nods. “I’ve watched it for about five times myself.”

You stood there, eyes switching from him to the paper cassette box stacked neatly amongst the other movies. You were contemplating whether to take Child’s Play or Gregory’s Girl, but you wanted a change of pace from your usual action and horror movies, so you thought that maybe it wouldn’t be too bad if you took his recommendation into consideration.

“Fine, I’ll borrow that,” you finally gave up and he flashed another smile. Does he ever not smile? You think to yourself. Though, you didn’t exactly mind. It was cute refreshing to see rather than a certain woman in her late 50s, unleashing her bitterness over life at her own customers.

He then took the tape and wrote something on his logbook before handing you the cassette in a plastic bag and stamping on your rental booklet that they use to keep track of each person’s rental history.

You thanked him, slightly bowing your head before heading out of the door.

It was your first time renting a romance movie. You thought to yourself, I’ll just watch the first few minutes then I’ll just rewatch Beetlejuice.

Yeah, you’ll do that.

⊹　　˖　　　　 ̟　　　⊹　　　˙

You have never been so wrong in your entire life. Here you are now, standing in front of the same counter, in the same shop the next day, with the same new employee. And he was trying his best not to give you the widest, smug grin while he took Gregory’s Girl from your hands.

You rolled your eyes at him, “Okay fine, it was surprisingly good.”

He gives you an exaggerated expression, “Surprisingly good? It’s great! It’s one of the best romcom movies I’ve ever seen. Well, after The Breakfast Club.”

You held up a hand, “Wait, you like The Breakfast Club too?”

“Of course, who doesn’t? And Fright Night.”

“No way,” you rested your chin on top of the small table at the middle of the store while he placed the tape you rented back at the shelf. These were practically your favorites. “Don’t tell me you like Ghostbusters too.”

He faced you, both eyebrows raised at you. “I love Ghostbusters! It’s an icon.”

You gave him an amused expression, a smile on your face. Back at home and at school, you didn’t really have anyone else to share your enthusiasm over movies with. Not even your friend, since she had more interest in sports stuff.

Then, he started humming a familiar tune. “If there’s something strange, In your neighborhood.” Your ears perked at that.

“Oh my God,” you gasped. His head was bopping at the mutual tune that both of you had in your heads.

“Who you gonna call?” he continued before finally turning to you.

You laughed as you shook your head and your hand. “No way I’m singing with you.”

He tilted his head again at you, an expecting expression on his lips. Eventually, you gave up.

“GHOSTBUSTERS!” you both exclaim at the same time and laugh at the unison.

You held your stomach from laughing too much. “Ohh, this is so much better than having that sulky old lady around!”

You were laughing so much that you hadn’t realized you were the only left laughing. Until you did. When you recollected yourself, you saw him looking at you with wide eyes, hand covering his mouth.

Oops, I think I thought out loud, you grimaced.

“I... I mean—”

“HAHAHAHAHA!!” He slowly burst out laughing. You were momentarily confused as to why he laughed at your sudden self-snitching, but he eventually spoke. “So I wasn’t the only one who thought that too? That the store owner was really sulky.”

Suddenly, you were back on the same page as him again. “Exactly my point!! It’s like she’s got a grudge on the world or something.”

⊹　　˖　　　　 ̟　　　⊹　　　˙

From that day on, you started coming a lot to the store. Well, not that you weren’t a frequent customer before, but the new guy made it more tolerable. You shared a lot of interests, had almost the same opinion on everything. Basically, you both were like fire and oil. You’ve become friends over the whole duration of your summer vacation. However, there was one problem.

“Come on, Jeongin! This is the umpteenth romance movie you’ve recommended me, and it always gets sappier every time!” You grumbled with a contorted expression as you swiveled comfortably on his chair by the counter.

He gave you a small laugh, eyes leaving yours. “No, they're not.”

“Yes, they do!”

“Nope.”

“Yes.”

“Nopee.”

“Yes, they do. Oh my God!”

Again, Jeong In laughed at your expression and ruffled your hair. You saw his smile disappear and saw him avert his eyes away whenever your gazes meet but you tried not to read into that too much. He retracted back his hand awkwardly from your head and wiped it on his jeans.

‘Weird idiot...’ You muttered inside your head.

You both shared the silence for a while, and he had his back turned to you, but you could see his hands fumble with whatever they touch. “Jeongin, you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Of course I am,” he replied immediately. Too immediate in fact.

You blinked. Was he offended at what I said earlier?

“Hey...” You muttered, “I didn’t... I didn’t really mean what I said earlier. They’re not entirely sappy. I just... You know I’m not a really big fan of romance so—”

“Y/N,” he cut you off mid-sentence, a deep inhale following.

“Yeah?”

“I have... something to say to you,” his voice got weaker at the end, as if he suddenly had second thoughts of saying it midway, but you still heard it anyway.

Your blinked. “Is there... something wrong?”

It took him a short while, but he finally spoke again, his back still on you. “I love that you get cold when it’s 71 degrees out.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Huh...?”

“I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich,” he continued, finally facing you this time, a serious expression on his face. “I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you’re looking at me like I’m nuts.”

You blinked, crinkling your nose indeed but you knew where he was coming from. “Wait,” you chuckled. “Isn’t this Harry’s dialogue from When Harry met Sally?”

“I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night.”

You gave him an acknowledging nod, “I’ll give it to you, you really memorized the whole dialogue word per word.”

As you gave him an amused smile, Jeong In stared at you for a short while before sighing and closing his eyes. “No, Y/N. This isn’t just me... reciting the movie dialogue out of nowhere.”

He cautiously held your shoulder, his eyes boring themselves in your own hues. “I...” He looks down momentarily before his eyes are on yours again. “Look, I really like you, okay? Like, like you. These past weeks, I... I uh...”

You were holding your breath. You were looking at him like a deer caught in headlights. Yet why did you look so beautiful in his eyes still? He sighed, hands releasing your shoulder as he hung his head a bit low. Jeong In shook his head. “It’s not supposed to be like this, I’m sorry. We’ve been friends for quite a while now and I...” He grumbled exasperatedly.

“God why is it so hard to say. I even practiced at the mirror this morning,” he whispered in the last part.

Though hesitant, you encouraged him to continue. In your sight, he was so cute right now. Was it your rationality speaking? No. You’ve always found Jeong In cute but you were too in denial to admit it. And now he was here, acting like a child, botching his own confession.

Jeong In took a deep breath before finally looking you in the eyes again. “I like you, Y/N. You’re my friend, my best friend, my soulmate. And I’ve realized that during the days we’ve spent here in the store. It... may not be the best place to write our love story on but...”

He looked away for a short while before holding your hand in his. “Will you write a sappy—the sappiest love story with me in this shabby old video rental store and be my girlfriend?”

You almost laughed out loud but suppressed it with a snicker and nodded. “Yes. I’ll be your girlfriend.”

You could see Jeong In almost turn from a smile into a crying happy face but then saw it turn into a horror expression. You furrowed your eyebrows. Well, that was three expressions in 10 seconds.

You were about to joke about it, until you finally heard the reason as to why his expression changed so fast.

“I am not paying you to flirt with a customer, Mr. Yang Jeong In,” the lady owner’s voice grimly rang from behind you.

Oh, shit.

i hope you like it!! i'm sorry if it still sounds a bit meh rn, it's been a long while since i wrote x reader fics like... it's literally been more than 10 years

anw, lmk if you want to be added to the taglist (or visit my pinned messages!)

#in x reader #stray kids #skz #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz fluff #skz fanfic #stray kids fluff #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #jeongin #yang jeongin #jeong in x reader #retro #yang jeongin x reader #yang jeongin imagines #stray kids x reader

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royalelusts · 1 year ago

Note

Hello! Not sure if your requests are open but if they are then can I request Lucifer, Mammon, Satan, Barbatos (you can remove or add characters, I don't mind!) with gn!mc (maybe teen? if you're alright with that) who's like extremely clumsy and gets hurt easily over literally anything.

And basically, one day they arrive at home and they have bad injury or smaller one but noticable, and when boy asks them about it they go like:

"Oh, I didn't even noticed!" and continues about their day like nothing happened.

It's completely alright if you don't want to do it! Like I understand that this topic might be a little uncomfortable so just take care and don't overwork yourself <3

my requests are always open! i just forget to put it up. also sorry for the little wait. I was trying to wait until school was over. I wrote this imagining a teen mc but it can be interpreted as a regular mc. enjoy <3

✰Mammon

Laughed the first time he seen you fall

“Haha dumb human! Can’t even walk properly.”

Didn’t even offer to help you up

*cue you kicking him in the shins*

As time went on though he started laughing less and less

Why were you always tripping?

Not even just that

You would often drop things or accidentally end up running into something

He had enough when you ran into a pole on the streets of Devildom

(This has happened to me💀)

Long story short you were stressing him out

Lucky for you he has stupidly fast reflexes so whenever he notices you losing your balance or something he’s there to prevent that

Now back to the present

You were supposed to meet him in his room after you were done baking with Luke and Barbatos

As time went on though he started to grow worried

It was getting later and later yet you weren’t back yet

Getting fed up he was about to go look for you himself

“IM BACK”

You walked in with a box full of treats..that was bent in some places

Mammon couldn’t get words out because of him being too focused on the blood that stained your torn sleeve

His stomach dropped thinking the worse

“Oh, that? I tripped on the way here.”

You let him look over your arm anyway just to put him at ease

He kept mumbling “stupid human and you’re fragile body” while doing so

It’s not your fault that demons have bones of fucking steel

But you kept that thought to yourself

✰Lucifer

You already give him gray hairs

It was as if you were always involved in something

He really wished you would just sit down and not move

So when he discovered you were clumsy??

Just kill him now.

To be honest he really underestimated how bad it actually was

Everyone (except him cause he’s “perfect” and “has a reputation to uphold” 🙄) trips from time to time so it’s fine

That was until he witnessed you fall down a flight of stairs

“Hey, Lucifer, I have a quest-”

The carpet got caught under your shoe and you went TUMBLING

When I tell you he was horrified

And you just laughed it off?? Like it was nothing????

Of course, he checked on you and made sure you were alright (followed by a lecture about being more careful)

The HoL was already human-proofed but now that he knew that you were a danger to your own self

He now has to bubble wrap every sharp corner and secure the rugs to the floor

It was quite a funny sight tbh

Much to his dismay, he can not be with you at every waking moment

He was a very busy demon after all and you two had separate lives

So when he got a call from you asking if he could come get you he grew slightly worried

Once getting to you he realized he had every right to be

There you were

Sitting on the sidewalk

WITH A FUCKING GASH ON THE SIDE OF YOUR HEAD

And you were just..sitting there.

Safe to say his soul left his body

Good job MC.

You killed the demon.

You explained that you were skipping back to HoL when you step wrong and your ankle pretty much gave out causing you to fall on the sidewalk

He physically couldn’t comprehend how you were sitting here this calm

“Don’t worry grandpa. Tis only a scratch.”

…

A scratch?!

*mother hen noises*

You did feel a bit bad about how worried he was getting so you let him pamper you the rest of the night

✰Barbatos

This man is literally your lifesaver

He knows you’re about to trip before you can even process that your clumsiness is in effect

Do you know the olive theory? Y’all are like that but with your clumsiness.

He now carries bandages with him wherever he goes

A small curing spell is always in the back of my mind

He’s prepared for everything ranging from papercuts to life-or-death situations

Barbatos is a very feared demon

He has no reason to be afraid or worried about things

That was until you almost dropped a tea set that was over 5 millennia old

Mind you it was also his favorite

Why you had it in the first place? He doesn’t know

What he does know is that it was about to hit the floor

He didn’t know which one to save: the tea set or you

No one had ever seen Barbatos’s life flash before his eyes until then

So congrats on being the first

(Diavolo also thought seeing Barbatos like that was hilarious)

You are no longer allowed to carry fragile things anymore

Whenever you’re carrying anything in general with Barbatos around he gets an underlying feeling of anxiety

Which is why we were here now

Barbatos was preparing some tea for Diavolo when he heard a loud crash

He paused for a moment before calmly setting down the tea mix

He already knew who it was

Swiftly walking to the source of the noise he found you and a Little D...with one of the curtains on the ground

“It seems you’ve been busy.”

“I swear I didn’t mean to.”

With a simple scan of you, he could tell you were fine

Quickly he ushered you away and instructed the Littlw D to clean up the mess

Though he had to admit

Part of him was relieved it wasn’t the China case next to the curtain

His favorite set was in there

✰Satan

Another one who laughed at you when he saw you fall

Though it was more of a chuckle

Before you got close he would go out of his way to step aside if you were falling in his direction

Ngl you and him had an unspoken beef going on in your early Devildom days

Obviously your friendship ended up flourishing but so did his concern for you

He just casually holds an arm out if he notices you tipping a little too much

Moves you out of the way if something you dropped might hurt you

He also keeps an eye out for anything that could cause you to stumble

He doesn’t hover over you but you know that he’s got you

Tbh 10/10 bodyguard

The same can not be said about his room

Walking in there is a death trap

The first few times you entered his room you fell over a stack of books successfully spilling tea on the table

After that Satan really tries his best to clean his room or at the very least have a clear path for you

The key word here is tries

Very recently Satan had gotten into a new mystery book series

It was as if the author was pulling plot twist after plot twist

To say Satan was hooked was an understatement

More and more books by this author started popping up around his room

*cue you slamming his door*

“Satan! Guess what grandpa- ACK!”

He hadn’t even processed that you had entered his room yet

Looking up there you were

Under a pile of books that fell off the shelf

He got up to help you (after putting his bookmark in the book he was reading)

(What? He wasn’t about to lose his place and risk being spoiled trying to find it again)

You just stared up at him wondering if this was your end

Luckily you were fine!

Tbh you thought it was hilarious that his books could have been the reason you died

His brothers on the other hand did not

#✰—writes!!!#mammon x reader #lucifer x reader #barbatos x reader #satan x reader #mammon fluff #lucifer fluff #barbatos fluff #satan fluff

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teaveetamer · 1 year ago

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Oh god, the romance in Fates was... wow. I remember when people were squeazed out by the fact that for example, if you S support Leo or Takumi, they keep calling you Nee-san, but it's simply because IS was'nt gonna rewrote the 3 ENTIRE ROUTE just to add this modification, they could do it for Awakening when Robin marries Chrom or Lucina cause Awakening only had ONE route and it was only 2 character, they could'nt give Fates the same treatement with it's 3 route and 8 siblings and unlike 3H and Engage, the S support in Fates can happen before any chapter once you unlocked one of the Royals in your party, like even Awakening had Chrom marries automatically after chapter 11 and then whatever happen once you completer chapter 13 for Lucina but it's at least 2 scenes (the reunion and Lucina's judgement), with Fates it would be ENTIRELY different dialogue cause when you marry Takumi before the chapter where in Birthright's story he starts opening up to Corrin, the whole thing doesn't make sense anymore. They still tried to include it int the story in some way, like how in Awakening, if you S support a certain unit, they have special dialogue in some moments they could add it, but overall it kinds of damage the plot more then necessary.

On a more serious note I say one thing Fates definetely did better was the "You traitor !" and handling betrayal compared to 3H, cause Corrin literaly as to either fight people who love them and cherished them like family and that they knew all their live VS people who yearned for years to see Corrin again and never stopped loving them (even if they did not knew except Ryoma iirc that Corrin was their step sibling) whereas in 3H... literaly all the people that are friends are in the same class so unless you recruit someone (like Marianna and Hilda) no one murder their friends, but just classmate they sort of intereacted with :/

The marriage mechanic in Fates is honestly basically aesthetic and a way to get the child characters. It exists because Awakening had it and Awakening was popular, so I don't really get too pressed about oddities like those tbh.

I've actually said before but I wish Fates had gotten a bit more room to breathe after Awakening released, because most of the problems I have with Fates is just "IS was desperate because they almost went bankrupt so they just tried to make Fates 'Awakening, but more' since Awakening was successful". Like how BR largely lifts its map design and cast archetypes directly from Awakening, the shoehorned in Awakening characters, etc.

Anyway, I do agree that I think Fates handled its emotional punches much better. Corrin is genuinely part of both of these families and genuinely loves both of them. Their greatest wish is for everyone to get along and so they don't have to choose.

In Houses most of the characters have known each other for a year or less, and in Hopes it's like a month. Unless you recruit them or try getting supports you basically never even interact with any of the students of the other houses. The one big emotional moment they try to contrast the tragedy with - the feast everyone has together after the battle of Eagle and Lion chapter - doesn't even happen on screen. The characters bring it up numerous times like we're supposed to relate to this happy memory of everyone getting along... and they didn't even show it to us, lol.

Even if Corrin doesn't remember the Hoshidans, they at least show them in Hoshido for multiple chapters! You get to see them interact with the Hoshidan siblings numerous times before they rip your heart out and make you choose sides! They give you reasons why Corrin might want to stay with them (finding out more about their life before they were kidnapped, revenge for Mikoto, etc.)

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hawkepockets · 11 months ago

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Melantho questions! Was Melantho interested in/involved with Tamlen pre-mirror? What's Melatho's opinions on humans vs elves (and dwarves if applicable). Opinions on magic/mages/spirits/demons? I'm interested in learning these things as the story goes on but I'm wondering if you know anything upfront/that you want to share upfront.

ahh you read my mind, the first two were exactly what i was thinking about for her!! & #3 is a great question 🫶

☝️ yes, mela & tamlen were involved! they were each other’s best friends, worst puppy crushes, and first time. it was a match the clan really approved of too, and although their elders never deliberately put pressure on them to wed, mel & tamlen still felt it.

but as a couple, they didn’t quite work. tamlen would do anything for melantho. he was too pliable & sweet to keep a pilot flame of attraction lit between them. add in merrill, and now you’re cooking.

having her girl rival on one arm and her boy protector on the other kept mela challenged and interested. it wasn’t a mature, sexual poly relationship yet—they were all too young, and mostly just teased each other with kisses and fell asleep in a pile like kittens, but they might have been if not for the mirror.

marethari did not encourage all three of them bonding. merrill was her First, tamlen was paivel’s favorite student of lore, and melantho was ilen’s apprentice. if the trio were to follow in their mentors’ footsteps as adults, clan sabrae would have a keeper, hahren, and master craftsman that were romantically & sexually bonded, taking each others’ sides against the rest of the clan or turning on each other in the case of marriage troubles… an unpleasant & unstable concentration of power. no, far better to keep ambitious, magical merrill out of it. a future hahren & apprentice craftsman being sweet on each other was not much threat to anybody.

but if merrill had been there when the eluvian was found, maybe the girls could have held tamlen back from touching it—or maybe there just would have been that much more hunger and curiosity in the room, and one more body tainted by the mirror.

✌️ melantho HATES humans. i’ve seen some criticism of clan sabrae, and marethari & ashalle in particular (bc of their close involvement with mahariel but also, if we’re tbh, their being women) for withholding the truth about what happened to mahariel’s parents until they were grown, and i agree that was hurtful & contrived for shock value… but it did make me ask myself what if they’d been right to keep it secret?

so melantho was told, very young, that her parents had run afoul of the shemlen & been killed in a random, common act of human violence, and that wrenched, tore, and twisted at her from when she was a child. it changed the shape of her heart. and while everyone in sabrae has a healthy wariness/resentment of humans, mela’s intensity about it is alarming and out of line. it comes over her like a fever sometimes, killing her lively personality, lighting up her eyes, and making her hiss and spit at anyone who so much as sighs out loud about the clan needing to relocate so much. even her little sister leidy avoids her when she’s in that temper.

tamlen & melantho killed all three men who found the eluvian ruins, and duncan really did need to drag her kicking and screaming to ostagar. she’s mean and impertinent, assuming the worst of every shem she meets there right up to their king. and the night of her joining, before the battle, alistair caught her in the act of poisoning the soldiers’ cookpot with what was left of the darkspawn blood, and had to restrain her from setting loghain’s tent on fire… which he might soon come to regret.

she hasn’t met a dwarf yet, but all she’s heard about them, as inventors of enchanted items & berserker rage, makes them sound very impressive and strange.

✌️☝️ melantho knows magic is dangerous, but had never heard about the chantry’s dogma about it before meeting alistair & the tranquil at ostagar, and it completely takes her aback. she thinks of demons and possessed people like rabid animals—sick predators, something you come across on rare, unlucky occasions in the wilds, something to be mercy killed from a distance if possible but not approached. sure they’re frightening. no need to get idealogical about it. and she associates them with locations haunted by elven tragedies, not with mages.

merrill, leidy, and marethari are mages, and they’re precious to the clan, and to her. even fearmongering about blood magic and darkspawn magisters makes little impression on mel. her mages know what they’re doing, and it’s not the business of an ordinary hunter/crafter to judge their choice of spells. as for blackening the seat of the maker, creating darkspawn, locking each other up in towers and branding each other’s foreheads… well that all just seems like shemlen acting badly.

she may get more invested later ;-)

#ty for asking!!!#dragon age #dao #oc: melantho #oc: leidy #mahariel #dao tamlen #merill sabrae #keeper marethari #answers

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nirvanawrites111 · 2 years ago

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Stripper AU update!!

Okayyyy!!! So something MAGICAL happened to me last night. I was sitting in my living room working on my book (I'm in the pursuit of following my dreams and becoming a full-time author). I was struggling with writer's block and I decided to re-edit my first chapter. Then Slidin' by Kai came on and all I could see was him dancing in my head. So, I rewrote the first chapter to my stripper AU. I found an 1 hour loop and told myself I'm going to loop this. If I could hold myself accountable to just write whi

le it's looping then I'm good. Baby... my creative juices were flowing! I do need to make a slowed & reverb 1 hour slowed Slidin track because those versions just hit different!!!! So, Y/N is a male revue club owner (I also need a really cool name because I think I came up with Rock Hard Revue.. I need something that reflects a mixture of feminine and masculine energy. Even though it's all men.) and Y/n's main attractions are Taemin, Ten, and it used to be Kai. Y/n also has some type of relationship with each other them.

Y/N and Kai are divorced. Now, Taemin is the headliner. All of them using their own solo songs but they aren't idols. They are dancers who sometimes perform their own songs. I'm thinking about how I want to frame Y/n's relationship with all of them. I'm not sure how long I want it to be. Maybe a 4-part series? I don't want it to drag it too long.

One of my favorite Hwa author gave me a fantastic tip for when you have ADHD. Don't release it until it's all done. I have so many undone projects from yearsssssss ago. Months ago related to K-pop. I have a 4000 word sub!yuygeom that just need a bit more smut and it'll be done.

When I used to write for another fandom and I didn't know I had ADHD. So, I would work on 3 fanfics at a time. Start one and then start other. Delete it and then be hyperfocused and create something new. I hate that cycle. So, I will wait until it's all done before I post. I'm tempted to share what I have so far, but I want to write the whole thing first.

That way I don't disappoint you or me. We both deserve better tbh. But, I'm going to challenge myself to loop a song for 1 hour and write just within that hour. I had so much fun writing my Taemin x Reader x Jimin story. It's just something about having Y/n in a position of power that just empowers me. I've been wanting to write a reverse harem fem!dom story because I rarely see them. I think I've only seen it with 3racha.. I think?

But, anyways Taemin, Kai, Taemin are my 3 baes like fr! I might slide Baekhyun in it as a side character. But, not in the harem. I MAY OR MAY NOT add Jimin as a part of the harem. I don't know yet. I love me some sub!Jimin content TBH and alot of people see him as a dom!. Which is fine, but my perception is he makes a better sub!character.

Right now he serves a different purpose in the first chapter. But, I'll see how it goes. But, yeah that's just me updating because I love to share and use my throat chakra more when I'm excited about something.

#sub!kpop #sub!ten #sub!jongin #sub!kai #sub!taemin #sub!jimin

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crossingbaranduin · 2 years ago

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Post-3x02 thoughts: I know it’s impossible in show canon, but I would love to see Dawn’s reaction to the Anders’ near death incident. Word dump of various reasons below while I work:

(General note: besides #6, this takes place post-series finale but with Dawn remembering + having been told about their time as gods. Details beyond that don’t really matter; I’m placing this sometime within a year post-finale, where Dawn finds out about the Idun stuff in passing and then finds out the full story from Anders. Cue “what the fuck”.)

1) Huge one is because I think she’d have one of the more interesting “outsider-looking-in,” mortal takes on the whole situation. Neither Anders or Gaia had control over the situation; it’s lose-lose, and they clearly didn’t want it as themselves. I think it’s a reasonable mortal perspective to expect the gods to get this, considering it’s a vessel-specific problem — but the inverse occurs where it’s almost seen as a worse offense/excuse (or, at the very worst, the accusation that Anders used his powers on Gaia to make this all happen). Really just want a confrontation here that boils down to “if anyone should understand why the hell neither of them could stop this, it should be the gods, so what the fuck happened?”. (Even more room for discussion with how while Gaia does get some criticism for what happened, Anders definitely takes the majority of the heat by the end.)

2) I think Anders would explain the situation better to her than the actual conversation with his brothers, at least to a degree. A lot of where the bar conversation goes wrong is with Anders’ blustering that super reads as a defense mechanism tbh. It’s definitely not that he’s good with being emotionally open with Dawn, but I think if the subject was pressed, she’d have the best chances by far of getting the emotionally honest version of how fucked up it is to be a vessel in that situation.

3) Ty/Dawn material because I can: add in a Ty and Dawn conversation about what happened. I need it. So much good hurt/comfort potential there. Ty’s reaction to seeing Anders’ injury and his subsequent falling unconscious really gets me (him pleading with Anders to stay awake? so many emotions about that), and tbh that’d be pretty damn traumatizing to see. Really just want a conversation that goes from “how the hell did this happen?” to “even for this family, how did it escalate this badly?” to “things went unchecked for way too long, and now Ty has to live with seeing his brother bleed out in front of him in mere seconds”. Can’t really get a better postponed breakdown finally happens + comfort hugs scenario than that! (Also: Ty being the only one to really get how unavoidable the bond is between god-spouses. Would any conversation have gone differently if the Hod-Hel and Bragi-Idun parallel had been explicitly brought up?)

4) I have a MILLION thoughts about the scene where Anders almost opens up to Mike about what’s happening but just stops short of doing so. This literally might get subheadings. Anders ending up in over his head and subconsciously running to Mike to fix it on instinct and then rethinking it because their relationship isn’t the same as it once was. Mike not having 100% confirmation but knowing what happened before it’s confirmed nonetheless. Mike wondering if he had actually pushed Anders and intervened, maybe they could have had a different conversation with Axl not leading to Anders’ near-death. In general, the complications that come with needing to run after Axl but that also meaning Mike can’t/doesn’t stay back to see how Anders is recovering. (Okay, back to the part that actually involves Dawn, oops!) Less direct than I feel like there’d be with a conversation between her and Ty, but I feel like after the topic gets brought up again, it’d be possible for Anders and Mike to have a fuller conversation about this hell scenario and to at least repair like, one tiny block in the Jenga tower that is their relationship.

5) Axl’s got a looot of shit to work through, which I’m usually much more sympathetic about. However, in this context, I really want to see the hilarity that is “the former most powerful god getting intimidated to hell and back by one very angry and terrifying mortal”. Don’t piss off Dawn, she basically runs JPR for a reason.

6) While I’m picturing this post-series finale, with the caveat that Dawn remembers everyone + they’ve explained their former god powers to her, a mid-S3 AU has some fun angst potential with Anders still having Bragi’s powers. Specifically: Dawn confronting the other gods about how almost killing someone over something they couldn’t control is Pretty Fucked Up, but Anders attempts to Bragi her out of continuing because he doesn’t think this talk will have any real effect and being openly defended in this situation is not something he’s mentally ready for. Twist: Dawn is 100% set on doing so because she genuinely believes this one wasn’t on Anders, so his powers fail. One hell of a shock for everyone involved, especially considering how rarely his powers fail in canon!

7) I just need more Anders and Dawn hugs in general. He’s tiny enough in comparison (especially with Dawn in heels) and deserves to put his head on her shoulder and be wrapped up in a good hug.

…This went on for far longer than I expected and should basically be its own Google Doc fanfic WIP at this point. TL;DR: please ask me about my 3x02 related thoughts because I have So Goddamn Many Of Them. (Thanks for reading if you got this far!!)

#the almighty johnsons #taj 3x02 #cb watches taj #headcanons #whump #?#(not descriptive but. it's 3x02 so also comes with the territory?)

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traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors · 2 years ago

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this is mostly just asking for advice so i don't think any trigger warnings apply. thanks!

because of trauma and i think undiagnosed neurodivergency (or maybe brain damage? i have brain damage but my parents never thought that they should check it out when i was younger so idk much about it) i have this weird thing where unless i see something i often forget it exists. this applies (sadly) to people, but the worst thing is that it impacts my ability to do things.

if i don't see a reminder of tasks then it's like the task doesn't exist. alarms and callendars don't work because i don't remember to check them or when i turn off the alarm i forget after a few minutes what it was for and that it even went off.

i've been struggling with productivity at work (i work online and i feel horrible because i feel like i take too much time to do things and it's doing damage to my self-esteem even though no one at work has said or told me anything. they mostly just leave me alone to do things tbh).

i've been struggling to feed myself and remember to keep my room clean. i keep planning to clean up and improve my living space but i when i have the time it's like my body doesn't listen and won't do it. i hate feeling so useless like this and i don't know why i can't remember to do things and i forget important things so often. i've tried putting a callendar on my wall that i can write things down on so i am forced to look at it but i forget to even look at it or write down things so it doesn't even work :(

do you have any tips or advice? just a few months ago i escaped from my parents and living where i am now has been overwhelming and i feel like im falling apart. i'd rather move back in with them even though i was extremely isolated because at least they'd force some sort of schedule

sorry if this is kinda rambly, hope you have a good day :)

Hi anon,

I relate on so many levels. Personally I still struggle with a lot of this.

It might help to jot down tasks on sticky notes to help remember what you have to do when you set alarms and such. This is an article describing different self-care reminder apps you could try, that can set reminders to "drink water, eat, reach out to friends and more."

Editing to add - you may also find helpful some of what Mod Kat said.

Those are just my suggestions. If anyone else has any ideas, please feel free to comment. Otherwise, I hope I could help and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

#mod bun #trauma talks #tw abuse

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loumauve · 2 months ago

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all in all I had a somewhat productive day. went to get some groceries and drop off some Pfand in the process. bought everything I needed for a proper salad and then made it, too, which is a big step considering what a mess my kitchen still is, but progress!

managed to sort through all the fabric and the yarn and put it into the transparent bins so none of it is in cardboard boxes anymore - super big step forward. especially because I finally managed to let myself throw some things away that I'll never use even tho some of the fabric was given to me by my brother's ex-wife's grandmother who sadly has since passed away, so I never had the heart to let go of any of it until now.

but yeah, that corner of the room is finally mostly sorted. there's one big bin which I'm still trying to decide what to do with, at the moment it's got a bunch of crafting stuff in it, but it's also heavy as hell because of it, so lifting it in and out of that corner is crap on my back and I don't really like the big plastic bin the yarn is in atm because it doesn't close tightly. so I might end up switching those two and getting rid of the crappy one eventually.

that's a task for another day though, but I managed to convince myself to take out the trash that accumulated through all of that right away which, also progress. taking out the trash and feeling like people will judge me for how often I do so is one of the big struggles for me, which is stupid. my dad put it quite nicely years back: isn't it better they see you take it out a little more often than never see you take it out and assume you like in a garbage heap, which tbh is how I used to live back them because I couldn't make myself go out for most things, much less to take out the trash. so yeah, progress. my old therapist would be proud, I'm sure.

more sorting out tomorrow tho I might go for the living room next. or maybe the crafting stuff overall, because it's the biggest point of annoyance to me atm since it's spread throughout the entire flat and I barely even remember the things I have whenever I get ready to make something.

maybe I should also give myself two cardboard boxes total for sentimental pieces of paper bc it's getting out of hand. OR maybe I just put it into a scrap book of some sort. could be nice to have something to look through even if it might take time to fully put it together.

anyway. the one good thing about being stuck at home with a horrid cough is that I had some additional time to get around to this stuff because I haven't really been able to take the time the past two or so years. between the travel back and forth between places and the general exhaustion from being around certain people - both at school/work, I just didn't want to add more emotional stress on top. and the sad thing is that letting go of anything, even the smallest bits of paper is so damn emotionally charged for me that it generally sucks to even think about. but I guess I've been making some progress.

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manicpixiehorsegirl · 2 years ago

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A note on meditation. I have runaway brain and I am very rarely able to shut extraneous thoughts down. And adding to the “scroll through TikTok,” because I came across this tip there. Find a point to stare at. Something that doesn’t move. It’s amazing how stopping your eyes from wandering also freezes your thoughts. Because a lot of eye movement is tied to thought retrieval, and a lot of that is a subconscious thing. I don’t know how this would work for blind people and I’m sorry for that… but yea. It helped me a lot. I think, if you’re into scrying, this might also be related. I believe that staring into something (a scrying tool, whether it’s a crystal ball or a dish of ink darkened water) helps your mind quieten, like meditation is suppose to do, which helps you sort of pick up on other things. If you’re into the craft, maybe something your deity or deities of choice are trying to bring to your attention, or something that’s in the ether around you.

I’m not as big into the craft as I once was… my mentor kind of turned on me. This was, I believe, partly due to narcissistic personality disorder and the onset of some type of dementia. Most parts of the craft make me think of her and it just…. Hurts. Such is life.

But I do think if you’re going to meditate or relatedly scry, you should have wards up first. To keep it simple, in keeping with this post, here’s how I was taught to cleanse a space:

You will need salt. You can stop there, but you can add mugwort or rosemary to that if you like. Both are good banishing and cleansing herbs. Tbh, if you don’t feel like throwing salt and herbs around your house, I understand the sentiment, and you could put those things into water and use the water for like…. Flicking, I guess?

Next, ask your deities, guardians, ancestors, spirits, whoever you talk to (op is right, just talking to whoever or whatever you believe in strengthens your relationship. Only talking whenever you want or need something can be seen as… well, rather rude. I’ve had my lights slammed off and back on when I was young and first starting out when I did such things…) to join you and help you chase out things like negative influences or ghosts or anything that might badly affect you. I like to ask Anubis and my dad (he’s no longer in the corporeal realm, so he gets asked to take up some guardian duties). I really should probably work on strengthening more relationships, but yea.

Start in the easternmost corner of your living space and throw your salt or flick your salt water into the corner of the room. Work your way clockwise around your entire living space, talking all the while. Assert yourself and your ownership of the place, tell things that if they have not been welcomed into the place, they are to leave. Know that whoever you’re working with is providing back up. You’ve asked them to, right? Throw or flick into every corner, every window, every vent or drain or opening (feel free to get outlets but like… don’t actually get water or salt in there in there, if you know what I mean). All the way around your home until you get to where your started.

When you’re finished, be sure to invite who and what you DO want back into your home. There’s also a sigil I like… tbh the only one I really know, that looks a bit like this.

Forgive me, I drew it in my phone notes. Think of it as kind of a spur. Put it above your front door, above or on windows. On the outside. Places where your house can be entered. It’s meant to stop bad influences, spirits, things like that. Use chalk if you want or just trace the shape with your finger. You could even use that saltwater mix you made from before.

This got a lot longer than I meant it too… but yea. When you’re opening up your mind by meditating or scrying, there are somethings you don’t want finding their way into your head.

SUPER Low Energy Witchcraft

I’ve been seeing a lot of low energy witchcraft posts, but every one I read isn’t really low energy. When I think ‘low energy,’ I think something I can do on my lowest of low days. Days I can’t get out of bed or even think sometimes. So here it is. The SUPER Low Energy Witchcraft Guide.

Sigils sites. I have found this one to be very good. They’ll make a sigil for you so you don’t have to.

Pinterest boards. Making spells or manifesting using Pinterest boards is one of my favorite things to do.

Spotify playlists. Similar to the Pinterest board idea, use songs to create spells or manifest certain things.

Emoji spells. Use emojis to make spells, making sure they’re packed with intent.

Hang out with your tarot deck. Or any divination tool, for that matter. Just having it near you counts.

Talking to spirits and deities. Tell them about something you plan to do for them, a ritual you’d like help with, ask for help getting through the lows, etc. Or just talk to them. It doesn’t matter about what, talking improves relationships.

Read. Read books you were planning on reading. Definitely do not ever go on Z-Library for free books. Never. /s You do have limits on downloading and it’s relatively hard to figure out on mobile, but if you can get your tablet or computer up and running, it’ll work perfectly.

Scroll through Tumblr. Or Reddit. Or Pinterest. Or even Tik Tok. Scroll through the witch tags, scroll through the tags of and deities you might worship/work with. Or just look at pretty plants. Think about what they can help you with.

Make a shopping list. If you need to restock any herbs or candles, note it down.

Just light a candle or two. Simple as that.

Make a pouch or enchant a piece of jewelry or whatever you want to do to help you recover from your lows before they happen. Touch them or hold them or even just think of them when you want.

Similar to above, enchant any aids (mobility aids, medication, pain relievers, heating pads and ice packs, etc.) to help you recover faster.

If you can, think about your practice, what you want to change, what you 100% wouldn’t change, how it relates to others’ crafts, etc.

Meditate. I’m not talking about some 30 minute guided meditation sitting upright, because I have trouble with them on my lows. I’m talking about staring blankly into space or practicing mindfulness or something like that. You don’t have to do it for long, either. Take a few minutes to chill.

If you can, open your windows. Or curtains. Or blinds. Let it clear out your space.

Enchant your water or foods to help with your symptoms. Draw a sigil with anything (oil, sharpie, air, etc.) on your bottles and above your food to aid in your recovery.

Wash your face and/or hands to cleanse yourself for the day.

Have a ‘worry stone.’ Take a crystal or rock or other stone and rub it when you’re anxious. Or, enchant it to remove negative energies and rub it when your pain is at the worst. The very least it will do is distract you.

Simply rest. Resting and taking some time to recover is the best practice.

Obviously this isn’t a large list, but I cannot emphasize the ‘simply rest’ part enough. As practitioners, we tend to want to do more when we’re sitting bored in bed. But remember, safety first. The quicker you recover, the quicker you can get back to your craft.

#witch #witch tips #the craft #I’m still not a very good witch #if I’ve said something wrong or against your beliefs feel free to let me know #but please be nice #I prefer discussion to argument

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extravaguk · 4 years ago

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pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

wordcount: 15k

genre: summer!au, ex high school classmaters, kinda frenemies to lovers, tattoo artist!&piercing artist!jungkook, popular!reader

rated: m (fluff - smut - angst)

warnings: you broke jungkook's heart you bitch!! , oral sex (m&f), protected sex (shocking tbh), CL as your bestie it doesnt get better than that! idk i dont wanna spoil too much

author's note: fucking finally dude!! i've been writing this since february but school was kicking my ass. now that i finished my exams and mercury is in gemini i was able to finish it. if you read this, i hope you enjoy it!

Inkphoria

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping the flyer too tightly, rumpling the paper in your hand until you're pretty much sure it's ruined. It's the first day of June, and it's already too hot. The sun and humid weather are causing beads of sweat to form in your hairline and your white tank top to stick to your skin. Your jean shorts didn't feel this uncomfortable a few hours ago and you're sure the heat is causing your mascara to transfer to your eyelids and lower lashline. You've never needed a slushie and a smoke this bad in forever, even if you knew the later would make your parents lose their shit.

Inkphoria

You read it again. Your brain is trying to guess what font its written in, an excuse to try to steady your heart beat until your nerves ease a little and you can finally gather the courage to step into the damn shop. You've noticed a few people passing by giving you strange looks because maybe it hasn't been fifteen minutes. Perhaps you've been unmoving like an idiot in the middle of the street for longer than you want to admit.

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

'Its not that much of a big deal. It's not even that painful, trust me.'

You wish you could trust your best friend, but your best friend is also the same woman who assured you Cats was the movie of the year. Yes, not 'Cats: The Musical'. 'Cats', the movie.

'And this could be a great start to get out of your comfort zone and start living your life exactly the way you want to, not the way people expect you to. Not the way your family wants you to, not the way Adam wanted you to.'

But although her credibility could sometimes be questionable - like that time she also told you she'd tried marmite and 'honestly, it's not as bad as people make it out to be'-, you also didn't trust anybody in this world as much as you trusted her. She had always been your entire support system, the only one around you who never sugarcoated, who always treated you as an equal, who was always there for you to help you discover yourself and, at the same time, remind you of who you were.

'And it's gonna look so hot, too.'

That's it. Sticking the wrinkled flyer on your back pocket, your feet finally start moving. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing open the door.

The first thing you notice is that, thankfully, the shop is empty. The second thing you notice is the bright sky blue walls, a green undertone peaking through. Your eyes scan nervously the interior. Frames with tattoo designs and people modeling other different designs decorate the walls, some skateboards also hanging from the ceiling. A few plants in the corner, and two leather couches on either side of the room. Your scanning stops on the counter, where a girl with short, platinium hair and -what you guess is- the eighty percent of her body inked. Face included. She's been looking at you, a smirk tugging at her lips. Her tone is amused when she speaks

"Hi." she says. "You can come closer, you know? We don't bite."

Great. As if you couldn't feel more out of place, apparently you also couldn't look more out of place.

"Sorry." you gulp as you walk forward. "It's my first time doing anything like this."

She laughs this time, but it's not mean. It's not mocking, thank God, and the smile she sends you is as warm as the weather, friendly, luckily helping you calm down a bit. "A virgin, huh? JK's gonna love this." your eyes jump in surprise, but she's fast to wave her hands in front of you. "Just a joke. So, first time getting a tattoo. You have something in mind, honey?"

"Um, no. Not a tattoo. Not yet, I think." you wet your lips, regretting not reaplying chapstick before stepping inside. "A piercing."

"Oh! Cool!" she claps her hands, too excited for your own taste, pulling from under the counter a catalogue. "So, where will it be? Cartilogue? Nose? A lot of people are getting their septums pierced right now, though, so you might-"

"Nipples. Like, one of them."

Her gaze finds yours in surprise, although her face swiftly transforms again into an amiable expression. "Now, that's badass. Alright!" she skims through the pages of the catalogue until she finds the nipple piercing collection. You scratch your head before wiping your forehead sweat-free. "You can pick either barbells or hoops, although barbells heal faster and they don't move around as much. There's different kinds of metal, too. Gold or platinium. If your skin is sensitive, I recommend titanium. It's hypoallergenic and not as problematic."

The blonde keeps talking as you nod your head, a smile making its way into your face while silently thanking her for her easygoing personality. It quickly makes you feel comfortable and stupid for being so terrified of doing this.

Once you decide, settle on the cost and sign the papers, she stands up from the stool she'd been sitting on. "Ok, I'll go tell my coworker. He's been sketching tattoos all morning, it's time he gets to work!" she laughs, but suddenly your smile banishes and your throat shuts down.

"He?" your alarmed tone halts her motions and she looks back at your frightened expression.

He? A he is going to pierce your nipple? You're about to let a random stranger, a HE, see and touch one of your boobs and then pierce a needle through one of your nipples?

"Oh, baby, don't worry. I'd do it myself if I knew how to, but I only do tattoos. Most of our staff are on summer vacation so it's mostly just him and I. If you don't feel comfortable, which is totally understandable, you can wait until september when Minzy comes back and she can do it for you." It's her turn to scratch the back of her head as she adds: "but trust me, we're professionals. He's not a creep or anything like that. He's been doing this for a long time. He won't cross any boundaries."

September? You won't even be here in september. Fuck.

Sure, you could do it when you move back into the city. But this summer was supossed to be the summer. You already decided after your breakup with Adam that there would be no trace of the old you. That it was time to push yourself, to do the things that you've always wanted to do, unapologetically. To find the new you, the real you. To stop being scared.

So after going through you options for a few seconds and taking a deep breath, you make up your mind.

"It's fine. I can do it."

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"JK, sweetheart!"

Jungkook is finishing drawing a Chinese dragon when Mijoo opens the door without knocking. Again. He puts the pen down, rubbing his eyes. It's monday, a slow monday, not much work, and he had hoped it would stay that way until closing time. It's summer and Jungkook hates summer. He hates the heat, he hates being drenched in sweat, and he hates the fact that he can do nothing about it. Because working in the summer is terrible. Summer makes him lazy, makes him want to bathe in a tub full of iced water and not get out until he turns into a raisin and october comes. It makes him irritable. Summer makes him annoyed by people -like Mijoo, even if he loves her to death- and himself.

"I got a girl here who wants a nipple piercing, her first piercing by the way, so get your shit ready and bla bla bla. Straight titanium barbell. Also, don't flirt and don't be creepy. She almost ran away when I told her a male was going to be touching and piercing her tit, be mindful of that. She's too cute, if you want to get her number you should wait until it's done. I think that's it. I'll bring her in in a minute."

Mijoo leaves as fast as she talks, but Jungkook is already used to it. He's already used to the headaches her mouth causes too. He sighs before standing up, tying his too-long raven hair into the best bun he can manage. He washes his hands, sets the table up, sits on the chair and puts the gloves on. He's too busy sterilizing the jewerly when Mijoo comes back with you.

"Alright, my babies. I'll leave you to it." she turns to you. "He'll explain everything, from how the process will be to how to take care of it after it's done." she leaves before saying bye, closing the door behind her, and then he finally turns to you.

Your eyes meet and suddenly everything stops. He almost drops the sterilizing machine, his whole body tensing, going into panic mode as he recognizes you immediatly. His hands shake.

Of course he does. Of course he recognizes his high school crush. The too goody two shoes, too pretentious and too rich, too good for everybody and, most importantly, 'too good for Jeon Jungkook' girl of his high school dreams. Of course he recognizes the girl he had confessed his stupid crush to when he was sixteen. Of course he recognizes the girl who rejected and broke his young and foolish heart when he was a dumb teenager.

It doesn't matter that six years have passed ever since. He still knows every lock of your hair like the palm of his hand. He still remembers the shape of your lips and the exact shade of your eyes. He can still identify the body he fantasized about -and jacked off to- when he was a hormonal teen, now filled in all the right places. Now a grown woman.

Just one look at you after years and years of pining is enough to almost make him faint. And grow a boner under his jeans.

And by the look on your face, your eyes wide and your mouth agape, you recognize him as well.

Dammit.

He schools his features and clears his throat. Forces his body to relax and compose himself, because he's not a teenager anymore. He's also a grown man, who has matured, who now has much more experience with women than he did back then. He had already embarrased himself enough when he was sixteen to be doing it all over again. You're just another attractive girl in a sea of attractive women.

He turns to you. You still haven't said anything. Neither has he.

"Um, you can sit on the table." he manages, motioning to the set up in front of him. He watches you taking doubtful steps until you're sitting down, your eyes avoiding his gaze. He almost forgot you were here to get pierced. Holy shit, you were here to get pierced. To get your nipple pierced.

You're a professional, Jungkook. You can do this, Jungkook. You've seen boobs before, Jungkook. You've pierced nipples before, Jungkook.

Clearing his throat again and forcing his hands to stay by his side, he speaks. "The... The top." your gaze finds his, like a puppy about to get scolded. You look at your top, realization dawning on you. "You don't have to take it off. You can just pull it down."

So you do, pulling the straps of the white tank top down and dragging the fabric down with trembling fingers. No bra. Jungkook gulps as your breasts comes into vision. As perfect as he had imagined years ago. His cock twitches. Round, full, perky and so damn inviting he has to hold himself back from latching onto one nipple with his mouth around it and swirling his tongue over the nub until you're a pretty, moaning, little mess on his piercing tabl-

He closes his eyes for just a second before reminding himself to act like the 23 year old Jungkook he's tried so hard to become. The confident, assured Jungkook he is.

"Okay, this is how it'll go. First I'll clean it and scrub it to get rid of any bacteria." he's so glad he hasn't stuttered yet. 23 year old Jungkook doesn't stutter like 17 year old Jungkook. He's also glad he can pick the alcohol bottle and the surgical scrub without trembling. When he faces you again, you're watching his motions with your lip caught between your teeth. That has him swallowing the lump in his throat.

Making eye contact with him again, you take a deep breath and offer a small nod, so he gets to work. He can show you and himself he's a grown man. A grown man who can pierce a nipple without appearing like it's the first time he's seen a boob in his life. The sooner he does it, the sooner it's over.

Jungkook wets the paper towel with alcohol before carefully wiping over your nub with it. Your back arches, probably from the cold feeling, he guesses. He rubs it a few times before throwing it in the trash can nearby. He avoids looking at how enticing the soft peak is salluting him when he reaches for the marker. He doesn't say anything when he dots it with it, jaw clenched and his dick painfully stiff.

"Lay back." his voice low as he commands, turning away to get the clamp. When he slides closer, he tries to ignore the view: you, with your hair sprawled and your sweaty, shiny skin and your eyes focused on the cieling, nipple fully erect, like the star of one of his most erotic dreams. He extends his free gloved hand before he can stop himself, fingers carefully working the nub until he's sure it's painfully hard. Almost as hard as he is.

You gasp, your back arching again. He stills and looks at you, your cheeks flushed pink. Probably from the heat, he guesses again. Or at least that's what he tells himself. He can't stop himself from wondering how responsive would you be in a different setting, most likely his bed while his teeth play with your breast and his cock dives into-

"You okay?" he studies your face, your eyes not meeting his and instead still focusing on the white ceiling.

"Mhm." you reply with a small voice.

"Relax, alright? It'll be over soon." his voice is as gentle as he can, his fingers mindlessly caressing your breast to try to soothe your nerves. Or maybe it's just because he's a selfish bastard. Whatever it is, he forces himself to bring the clamp to your nipple, securing it around it.

"Take a few deep breaths. This will only take a second of pain and then it will go away." He misses the way your mouth falls open, but he doesn't miss the way your eyes squeeze tight as the needle goes in.

"Ah!" he definitely doesn't miss that either. He goes rigid for a second, because that didn't fucking sound like a cry of painfulness. It's breathy, and whiny, not too loud and, for fucks sake, if that's how you sound when you're getting fucked, he swears to God-

He feels your heartbeat under his hands when he puts the barbell in and then the bandage over it. He takes a look at you, chest moving up and down. And then you take a look at him and what he sees is almost enough to take you right there.

Reddened cheeks, drops of sweat framing your face and those eyes glazed with something he's seen too much in the women he's fucked throughout his life. They're half lidded, mascara adorning your long lashes and almost smudged, looking right through him.

"Jungkook..." and your voice, as you say his name -acknowledging him for the first time since you stepped into his shop, for the first time since you were sixteen-, it's hoarse, almost inaudible, like you just came all over his-

He's on his feet in an instant like he's been burned. "It may bleed for the first week, and it can be really sore. The swelling will eventually come down." he's quickly tidying up the table, a bottle in his hand that he hands to you without looking directly. "Wash it gently with this soap and warm water once per day. Don't touch it. Wear a comfortable...bra. If it gets crusty, clean it with saline. Not alcohol or any other thing you might clean a wound with. The soap I just gave you or saline. Nothing else."

He's pacing around the room as he takes his gloves off and throws them in the trash bin, too agressively maybe, then he keeps rambling, like he's hurriedly trying to make you leave as soon as possible. "Avoid pools and the sea. It takes about six months to a year to heal, so don't... don't touch it, don't play with it or..." he clears his throat, "don't let anyone else play with it. And if it gets infected, come back immediately and I'll take a look at it." which he honestly hopes it won't happen. When he faces you, your top is back on and you're getting off the table.

"Alright, um...I'll do that." clearing your throat, your hand gripping the doorknob. "Thank you."

But right before you can exit the room, Jungkook says your name.

"_____." when you turn around to face him, it takes a few seconds for him to make eye contact from across the room. "It was good to see you."

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"Let me see!"

It's the first thing Chaelin says when she opens the door to her appartment. It's on the second floor, small enough to compare it to most expensive appartments you'd stayed in throughout your life, but big enough for Chaelin, her cat and her -impressive- collection of acrylic nail kits and pairs of high heels. It's also big enough for her to offer you the only guest room until summer is over so you didn't have to, one, stay at your parents' place, and two, find an appartment in a short period of time for a short period of time.

When you left years ago, you did so with the thought of 'never looking back'. You never really expected to return here, of all places. Maybe visit your best friend for a weekend at most, have dinner with your parents on a saturday and then go back to the new life you'd made for yourself on a sunday.

But that was before you'd caught Adam cheating.

Tale as old as time: childhood sweethearts get engaged, move in together, son of a bitch sleeps with the assistand he told his girlfriend not to worry about, and then the brokenhearted girl packs her bags and leaves the cheating bastard begging for her to come back.

You'd be lying if you said you were surprised.

Throughout your life, you'd learned to expect many things, regardless of being sheltered and babied by your family since you were born. Watched too much Maury and Dr.Phil. Too much Gossip Girl to know what the deal with life really is.

So, thankfully, you'd only shed a few tears, mostly because your ego and self steem were slightly triggered. You'd realize long before that your feelings for Adam started to disappear once he popped the question and you said yes. Your love story began as teenagers but soon after graduating, the two of you went on different paths: you'd matured, grown into your twenties while he got stuck at 17 and never stopped acting as such.

So yeah, whatever, break ups are hard. But they're not as hard when the love is gone and the sole reason to stay with your partner is to please your parents. You were also right when you expected your mom to tell you to 'forgive and forget' because 'those things just happen, it's not a big deal, honey'.

But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

The lanky nerd with braces, glasses and an anime obsession much bigger than his hentai obsession, which is saying a lot. The shy, awkward classmate who'd stuttered his undying crush for you when you were just kids. That one who you had rudely rejected like the bitch you used to be in high school.

But my God, Jeon Jungkook was anything but a kid now.

You were shocked. You were gagged. Couldn't seem to fathom what was happening and what your eyes were seeing. It took you a while to close your mouth when you realized JK was Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

With messy black hair, a smoldering gaze free of glasses, piercings adorning both ears, and his right eyebrow,, the braces long gone showing perfectly straight - but still bunny like- teeth. The clothes he wore were loose, all black, but it was impossible not to notice the muscles of his back and arms, covered with tattoos from his hands to his forearms. You'd bet there were more of them underneath the fabric.

It was awkward at first. You didn't know what to do, or what to say. Didn't know if he rememberd you. So you chose to stay quiet while your body chose to react like it had never been in the presence of an attractive young man in it's entire life.

And oh, did it react.

He was reluctant, his old timid demeanor peeking through his newly adopted persona. But as soon as those hands came in contact with your skin, your whole body was lit on fire. Like you were 16 and losing your virginity over again and it was the first time a dude touched your boobs.

There shouldn't have been anything erotic about it -besides the fact that your entire breasts were exposed-, it should've been just a professional procedure. But those gloved fingers touched and pinched and suddenly you were too aware of Jeon Jungkook and the way you were starting to sweat profously, not due to the heat of the season.

You tried to distract yourself by looking at the cieling and not at his gorgeous face. Tried to avoid thinking about Jeon Jungkook and how his mouth would feel wrapped around you. Tried not to think about the way your panties were a second skin to your folds, and how tempted you were to grind your hips until you recieved some sort of friction with the jean fabric of your shorts. You wonder if he noticed you squeezing your thighs together. You hope not.

And then the needle happened. You never thought of yourself as a particularly kinky person. Sex with Adam was boring for the most part and you'd lost your libido for a long time. Stopped thinking about sex altogether. But the pain. The pain mixed with his hand rubbing soothing circles on your breast and his voice, as sweet as honey, guiding you through it. It made you reconsider a lot of things you'd once dismissed as 'weird' or 'deviant'

You swear you almost came right on his table.

And then your eyes connected, you made the mistake of calling his name like a satisfied woman who still needed more, and it was all gone. He stood up like a scared cat, gave you a bunch of explanations about the aftercare that you barely grasped without even looking at you and pretty much rushed you to leave.

So you walked, all the way from the tattoo parlor to Chaelin's appartment, mortified, and completely humilliated.

"Are you gonna let me see or not?" your friend says expectantly as you finally sit down after chugging a glass of iced water. You sigh, placing the glass on the table before carefully pulling down your top. "Oh my God, it looks so cool!" she gasps and you can't help a smile while she studies it in amazement. "Did it hurt?"

"Um, I guess." you keep out the part where you almost orgasmed, obviously, stopping her hand from touching when she reaches towards you. "Wait, no. He said something about not touching it for like six months or a year, I don't remember."

At that, Chaelin's eyebrows quirk up. "He? It was a he? Was he cute, at least?"

"You won't believe this..." looking away for a few seconds, you take a deep breath. "It was Jeon Jungkook."

There's a pause, a silence that fills the room when Chaelin's jaw drops. "Jeon Jungkook...pierced your nipple?"

You close your eyes, bracing yourself for what you're a hundred percent sure is coming.

"Ha..." there it is. "Ha ha..." you still know there's more. "Ha ha ha..."

Chaelin laughs hysterically for about God knows how long, while you keep drinking your glass of water unfaced, your mind drifting back to Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie, his tattoos and his stupid gloved hands.

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You know he's here.

Everything was cool, you were doing alright, having a great time with your vodka sprite in hand and your cute white bikini on. Chaelin was by your side, the guys were excited to have you back and thankfully, you'd avoided most questions about Adam and they'd avoided digging too deep into the topic. You'd sunbathed the whole afternoon, kept away from the water like he'd told you and ate the Hawaiian pizza Yoongi insisted on ordering despite Namjoon's and Jimin's complaints.

It's at night, when you're a little tipsy and your cheeks are flushed, that you feel it. You'd barely noticed Taehyung disappearing to let in a new guest.

You don't see him, but you feel him.

You're sitting on the pool tile steps, legs dangling and the water baely reaching your belly to make sure it doesn't touch your very sensitive and newly pierced nipple. Your back is facing the sliding glass doors of Hoseok's house, but the moment you hear his voice, smooth but animated as he converses with Taehyung, your body wakes up immediately, back straightening, goosebumps forming on your arms and nipples tightening against the fabric of your two piece.

You don't turn around, instead opting for downing the remaining of your drink and coming to the realization that, of course, Taehyung, social butterfly who'd always got along with everybody and remained friends with most people from high school, still keeps in touch with Jungkook.

You ignore him when he enters the pool, still peering from the corner of your eyes while pretending to be engaged in Chaelin's and Jihyo's conversation. Your mind sabotages you by taking you to that day a week ago at the tattoo parlor.

To the warmth of his hand, to the few strands of hair that his small ponytail couldn't keep together, to the way his eyes focused on such an intimate part of your body, to the endless ink decorating his skin, to-

Great. Now your bottoms are wet and not due to the water.

You don't miss Chaelin supressing a laugh and her not so subtle elbowing. You glance at her in warning and try to keep calm for the next fifteen minutes until Jin proposes moving to the living room to watch a movie.

"I'm gonna stay here for a little longer, guys." you say, after clearing your throat. You needed some time to gather yourself before being in a confined space with Jungkook.

"Are you sure?" Jin stops by your side to place a hand on your shoulder as everybody starts exiting the pool. "It's Mean Girls! You love Mean Girls! You never miss a minute of Mean Girls!"

Rolling your eyes, you wave him dismissively. "I know every dialogue on Mean Girls like the back of my hand, I think I'll be alright, Jin."

When everybody finally leaves, you take a deep breath, covering your face with your hands in an attempt to get him out of your head. Damn Jeon Jungkook and his irresisitble glow up.

"You okay?"

The unexpected voice startles you, a gasp finding its way out of your mouth and causing you to jump on your seat, heartbeat erratic as you instantly recognize who it belongs to. Your hand grasps your chest as if that would do anything to protect yourself against him.

"Shit, don't do that!" you say, the words almost getting stuck in your throat as you see him approaching you, still submerged in the pool. The more he nears you, the less water depth there is and the more visible his torso comes into view. Wich was exactly what you'd been avoiding.

Because Jeon Jungkook was ripped, as you'd imagined when you first encountered him.

Broad shoulders and strong biceps and chiseled abs and veiny forearms. Drenched hair, a full sleeve of tattoos and water dripping from delicious tan skin and all just so very hard. That paired up with a loopsided smile that does nothing but make you shudder.

"Sorry." he doesn't sound apologetic at all when he says that, the smirk adorning his features telling. "You just seemed a little off." you advert your gaze when he pushes his hair back.

"I'm fine, just...just wanted to be by myself."

"Oh" Jungkook's smile disappears. "I can leave, if you want me t-"

"No!" you're not sure where that comes from and neither does he, judging by the look on his face when your eyes find his. Eyebrows raised and mouth slightly parted, he's as surprised as you and there's an awkward silence for a few seconds. "Um, you don't have to. I mean, it's not my house, you can do whatever you want." you sniff and tame your voice, trying to seem cool and collected like you didn't just practically beg him not to go.

Ironic, considering this was exactly what you had been fearing for the past thirty minutes.

And then he smiles. A knowing smile. A smile that says 'you just totally checked me out and now you don't want me to leave'. A smile that you would have never associated with Jeon Jungkook of all people years ago. A smile that makes you want to look away but still keeps you in place.

"Sure." he says, closing the space between the two of you slowly but still leaving enough distance. "So, how's it going?"

You clear your throat, head high and determined not to let this man, or any man for that matter, turn you into a trembling mess. You're still you and you're not easily shaken by the opposite sex. Or at least that's what you helplessly chant in your head.

"Everything's cool. I'm on summer vacation now," a little white lie, "so I decided to-"

"The piercing." he says, the smile never leaving his face. "I meant how's the piercing."

"The pier- right." you almost miss the step he takes forward, all too aware of his height over yours but thankful for the centimeters that being propped on the stairs added to yours. "It's-" you almost, almost miss his knee touching your knee and him slightly separating your legs with his own inch by inch. Or how your thighs open unvoluntarely to welcome him in and how you can barely find coherent words to speak. "It's doing-" or the way his smile disappears and is instead focusing his dark stare fully onto yours.

"It's doing well." you finally say in a whisper, not being able to bring yourself to be louder.

He hums. "May I see it?" Jungkook wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and the action and his voice is enough to make you nod your head, bewitched.

His movements are unhurried, his hand coming up to tentatively come in contact with the flesh of your clavicle. His fingers skim through your skin upwards, his touch is feather-like when it wraps around your throat. You pant, and he stops but he doesn't move away, his eyes still focused on yours, studying you, daring you to pull back, to tell him to back off. But just a simple touch of his and you're fully under his control. It reminds you too much of the day you got that damn piercing.

Your lips are parted and for a moment he stays just like that. His body so close to yours but not close enough, and his hand slightly gripping your neck. Your pussy clenches around nothing and you can't wrap your head around the fact that something so simple sets your entire being alive and leaves you aching.

Then, as slow as he started, his hand travels from the front of your neck to the back, pushing your hair aside to carefully untie the straps of your bikini. He breathes through his nostrils, doesn't make a sound. He seems so collected it's starting to annoy you.

Instead, your breathing is ragged when the top falls down, exposing both your breasts to him. That's when he removes his eyes from yours and his jaw clenches. Your nipples perk up under his gaze, like they remember him and the effect he had on them just a week ago. You're at least glad you're not the only one affected but he seems to be a master at keeping it under wraps.

Then, his hand moves again, leaving goosebumps on your skin as it goes south. Jungkook takes his time, so deliberate you want to scream, until he's cupping your pierced breast, keeping away from the nipple just like he'd advised you a few days prior. You can't look away from his face, from his eyes observing you like you're a full course meal and he's been starving for days. You feel drops of water falling from his hair to your thighs, his thumb caressing your skin so delicately as it faintly nears your still tender nipple. Just nearing it, never touching it.

"Beautiful." his murmur is almost imperceptible and for a moment you think you've imagined it. Your back arches on its own, breast pushed against the palm of his hand, almost like your body is begging him to come closer, to touch you more, to feel you all over. He meets your eyes briefly, gauging your reaction, before going back to your chest. Suddenly, the grip on your breast tightens, fingers ever so softly squeezing your flesh. From your throat comes a mewl, your eyes shut and your legs close around his waist.

"Jungkook, please..." you whisper when you open your eyes. He looks at you, unvertainty written all over his face, lips bruised as if he had been biting on them too hard, gaze as glassy as yours. And just like that, the spell is broken. He blinks and his expression changes completely. Lips forming a straight line and jaw tight. His hand retracts, fixing your bikini top over your breasts before tying it around your neck like it originally was. Meanwhile your eyebrows crunch in confusion. But when you're about to start asking questions, he clears his throat.

"It's healing okay." he steps back, avoiding your eyes. "I'll see you inside."

Jungkook leaves the pool like nothing happened.

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Jungkook is fiddling, fixing the position of his glasses and combing through his straight hair with shaky hands, habits he's tried so hard to get rid of in his sixteen years of existence but still finds impossible to.

He can't help it. He's always been like this: the quiet and awkward kid in class who sits in the back, a misunderstood puppy in a sea of stronger dog breeds that could eat him alive. An outcast. Too geeky for his own good. Notebokes full of Dragon Ball doodles on the margins of the pages, the shelves in his room stacked with Marvel figurines, and a closet filled with outdated clothes that he has been inheriting from his older brother.

He has never been the type to stand out, always being overlooked by people like he's invisible. He doesn't mind though. He'd much rather be ignored than getting picked on by bullies like he used to in elementary school.

He never gets invited to parties. Ever. He's a nobody who barely speaks, and when he does he either stutters or manages to embarrass himself in one way or another. He's seen the look on people's faces when they look at him. Their eyes seem to scream 'weirdo' everytime he gets acknowledged.

So obviously the only reason he was invited to this particular party had a first and last name: Kim Taehyung. The only kid in Jungkook's entire life who didn't look at him in a funny way, the only kid who took the time to entangle in a random conversation with him after class and who seemed geniune enough to make Jungkook feel comfortable.

He's not sure how it happened, since Taehyung mostly hangs out with the cool kids. But somehow it did, and now Jungkook is uncomfortably standing in a living room full of drunk teens, looking directly at you.

You, the one girl Jungkook had been pining on for God knows how long. You, who are obviously too pretty, too popular, and way out of his league. You, with your plaid skirt and your polo shirt and those legs that never seem to end. You, who are sitting with your friends in a couch, drink in hand and visibly tipsy. And yet, he doesn't think he's ever seen anyone pull of the 'drunk-rosy-cheek' look better than you.

He can hear your laugh through the music and he already thinks it sounds better than whoever is playing in the background.

"Come on, Gukkie! Her friends are leaving and she's all by herself now! It's your chance" Taehyung's obviously drunk too because it took Jungkook a while to decypher his exact words. He'd disappeared for a while and now that he's back, he's pushing Jungkook in your direction.

"This was a mistake, Taehyung." Jungkook shakes his hair and steps back, quickly glancing at the front door to prepare his escape. But his new friend's grip on his hoodie keeps him in place.

"Guk, listen. The only thing you have to do, is walk up to her, and say 'hey I think you're, like, really pretty. Just letting you know. Bye!' That's it. Jung- Dude, Guk, seriously, look at me." Taehyung grabs Jungkook's cheeks, squishing them between his hands and forceing him to face him. "You've been crushing hard on her for years, my man. We're graduating and you won't see each other again. What's the worst thing that can happen? Getting rejected?"

Jungkook's eyebrows draw together. "Um, yeah?"

"Exactly! Getting rejected is not the end of the world, bro! It just means keep trying on other girls!" Taehyung releases his hold on Jungkook's cheeks. "I just think you're going to regret not telling your crush she's your crush. Who knows? Maybe in the future you two will get married."

Jungkook snickers, muttering a 'yeah right' under his breath. Still, he can't help the smile that Taehyung's words always seem to pull out of him.

"Now," Taehyung playfully slaps Jungkook before turning him in your direction again. "Go get 'em, tiger!"

"Okay," Mijoo's voice slices through Jungkook's memories. She's sitting on Jungkook's desk, munching on her brownies and looking at her coworker expectantly. "And then what?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, sits back on his chair, already feeling the effects of Mijoo's baked goods. "And then I walked up to her, like a damn fool, stutter and all. And I say:" he clears his throat, making an effort to do his best teenage Gukkie impression."'Hey, _____, um, so, I think you're beautiful and I've had a crush on you since seventh grade, haha, just wanted to let you know.'"

Mijoo rolls her eyes, still chewing. "And then what?"

"And then she looked me up and down, giggled, fucking giggled, Mijoo, and said 'Who are you, again?'" Mijoo gasps and Jungkook closes his eyes, trying to force that recollecion out of his head.

"What a bitch." she can't help but laugh before apologizing. Jungkook merely shrugs his shoulders and takes another bite of his brownie. "She didn't say anything else?"

"She said something along the lines of:" he clears his throat again, this time, doing an impression of you. "'That's sweet and all but, you and I... we're not the same. And I have a boyfriend, so...' She said that like I didn't know, like I wasn't aware of the school's it couple! Like I was dumb!"

Mijoo nods. "And now you want to fuck her even more than you did in high school."

"I- No! Well, yes. Fuck, of course I want to sleep with her! But I just... can't."

"Why not?"

"Did you hear anything about what I just told you or were you too concentrated trying to get high?"

It's Mijoo's turn to roll her eyes. "I heard everything you just told me. I just don't understand what the problem is. You two were sixteen. Sure, she was a bitch about it, but Lord knows I've been a bitch my entire life and now I'm not anymore." Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. "Okay, sometimes I can be nice. But the point is..." Mijoo finishes her piece of brownie before getting off of Jungkook's desk. "It's been, what? Nine? Ten years? People change, JK. You're the best example of that. You want to fuck her and she obviously wants to fuck you too. You're both adults." she wipes her hands on her shorts. "I think it's time you fulfill that high school fantasy of yours."

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You've made up your mind.

And by you, it means Chaelin has made up your mind.

It didn't take long to convince you though. That last interaction with Jungkook cause too many emotions stirring within you. It left you hot, it left you bothered, it left you confused. Sure, it also left you a little bit embarrassed like the first time, but above everything else, that interaction with Jungkook left you absolutely livid.

Because who the fuck did Jeon Jungkook, formerly known as Guk, Gukkie, Jungukkie, and currently known as JK, think he was to come near you, speed your heart rate's up, and then runaway like that?

You've spent days thinking about it. About that face, about that body, about those hands and- shit. You're doing it again.

You've spent days trying to push those intrusive thoughts. Spent days trying to bury what happened. You've spent days trying to keep quiet, not telling anyone about it and just wishing that stupid spark of desire simply went away.

But it has just been simply unavoidable. You haven't been able to ignore the sleepless nights with your brain drifting back to that night and forbidding your hand from slipping under your panties. Or the excessive amount of time during the day where images of him suddenly popped in your head and wouldn't go away, even with you squeezing your thighs to try to make the ache go away.

So you ended up ranting and ranting and ranting to the only person you could confide on, who is obviously your best friend. Your best friend, who's too smart for her own good and knows you too well for your liking. Because apparently your moodiness and snappy remarks couldn't go unnoticed.

And after explaining the fiasco over a bottle of wine -and minutes of endless laughing on Chaelin's part because, again, it's Gukkie you two were talking about and, according to her, this was "the most karmic thing I've ever seen"-, she gave you the best advice an older sister could ever give.

"Fuck him."

"I know right? Fuck him!"

"No. I mean, fuck him."

And now here you are. Right inside that room you stepped in weeks ago, confronting the man in question with the same confidence that has always distinguished you from others and trying to act like the fluttering inside your belly wasn't nauseauting.

"A date."

"Yes."

"You want to go on a date with me." this wouldn't be so hard if Jungkook didn't look so delectable in a plain white t-shirt and ripped jeans. You cross your arms over your chest, doing your best to not look down at the exposed skin of a man who obviously worked out a lot and apparently, never skipped leg day. "What's the catch?"

He's sitting on his chair, back resting comfortably and legs spread, narrowing his eyes at you and probably wondering why the girl at the front desk let you in without an appointment. Also, probably wondering if there was a catch to all of this.

"There's no catch. I just want to go to the fair this weekend. I'll ask Taehyung for your number and text you the date and the exact place we'll be meeting. Unless..." your quirk one of your eyebrows. "Unless you're already planning on how you'll chicken out this time."

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Of course, Jungkook says yes to going on a date with his high school crush but spends the following days overthinking every single thing.

He can't help but feel like it's kinda sketchy. What if you're planning your vendetta on him? What if you don't even show up and he ends up there looking like a damn idiot? What if you hate him and are just messing up with him? What if that incident in high school is going to repeat itself?

"If she doesn't show up, you simply move on and never speak to her again. It's that simple. She can't have that much power over you to cry about something like that." Mijoo had said that same day she let you in the tattoo parlor after you'd asked to see Jungkook. Jungkook's coworker hadn't even question you and just motioned you to Jungkook's room with a knowing smile on her face. Later that day, Jungkook had scolded her about it and she'd simply shrugged.

He considers cancelling, eyes reading the 'won't be able to make it, sorry (sad face emoji)' over and over again and fingers hovering over the send button so many times he's lost count. But then he remembers that comment of yours about him chickening out and Jungkook starts seeing red.

How couldn't you understand he's just terrified of you rejecting him one more time? Sure, Jungkook is now an adult who doesn't get butthurt over stuff like that. He's experienced too much after graduating from high school and he's a much stronger individual than his fragile self back was back then.

But something about you just makes him feel so... weak.

He still finds it impossible to concieve where he got the courage to approach you like that at Taehyung's pool, or how he brought himself to touch you for longer than a minute without coming in his pants. He'd enjoyed it too much. Allowing him to see you so exposed, just for him. He'd be so tempted to kiss you right there and then, to run his hands up and down your thighs and fully wrap your legs around him to let you known how much you'd affected him. Once you called his name, it was like he'd finally snapped out of it and backed away like he'd been burned by you. He spent the next twenty minutes trying to keep himself from pulling down his pants and jerking off in his friend's bathroom.

It's terrible. Because he feels like the teenager he used to be when you're around. Shy, insecure and overall a mess. You showing up in his life after so many years and now apparenly being interested in him seems like a dream that he's not sure he wants to keep being in or wake up from before it's too late and he falls back into that tumoltuous longing that will inevitably end up in heartbreak. His heartbreak.

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It's saturday night, he's standing by himself in the crowded fair at the spot. You're fifteen minutes late and he's already about to turn back and dip out. He feels too awkward and the nerves are eating him alive.

You're not going to show up. You're not going to show up and now he feels and looks even dumber than the time he told you he was crushing on you. You're not even going to show up and now he's going to come back home, get drunk by himself and curse your name for-

"Hey!" he turns around to the sound of your voice and sees you running towards him. "Sorry I'm late! I couldn't find my phone and spent like thirty minutes looking for it. Turns out, Sharon Stone, was taking a nap on top of it and I didn't even notice."

"Sharon Stone?"

"Chaelin's cat."

To be honest, he's too surprised to process your explanation right away. He might also be a little speechless because that sky blue sundress looks too good on your skin and your eyelashes are so long, framing your beautiful eyes, and your lips are all glossy and kisseable that it takes him a while to find his own voice.

He clears his throat. "It's alright." scratching the back of his head, he momentarely adverts his gaze from you in an attempt to not get distracted by how soft your hair looks and how much he wants to wrap it around his hands in a ponytail. "Um, where do you want to go first?"

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Almost an hour and a half later, when the sun has already disappeared and you're both surrounded by colorful lights, Jungkook decides to buy the both of you hot dogs and a drink and you both settle down on a bench.

You've been walking all over the fair, going from booth to booth, playing any game in sight Jungkook dared you to -he obviously had a competitive streak-: from the ballon and dart games, to the shooting games, to the bumping cars, to the ball-in-basket one. To say you were having fun was an understatement.

You'd almost regretted setting the date up. You were sure he wouldn't even show up and if he did, you were scared of how awkward things could get between the two of you. And if things were awkward, you were sure it would only take less than thirty minutes for the both of you to part ways and never talk again about such failure of a date.

To your surprise, none of that happened.

The conversation was flowing, both of you acting like you were strangers on their first date getting to know each other, which, to be fair, that's exactly what it felt like. There was a slight banter, teasing each other when one of you lost in whatever game you were playing while the other was obviously winning. There were laughs and a funny feeling in your tummy whenever you'd walk side by side and his arm brushed yours.

There was no stiffness on his shoulders, no mention of the past or your previous encounters, no acknowledgement of the blatant sexual tension you'd experienced before, not an ounce of avoidance whenever your eyes met his and he was even sure of himself enough to place a hand on your lower back or briefly interwine your fingers with his to guide you through the mass of people.

It felt like you'd both unspokenly agreed on making each other feel comfortable enough to have a good time.

"I didn't think you were going to show up, to be honest." you suddenly say, taking a sip of your strawberry juice and thankful to finally let your feet rest for a while.

Jungkook looks at you, hot dog mid air and eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline. "You didn't think I was going to show up? I didn't think you were going to show up." you simply shrug, lowering your gaze seepishly, the beginning of a smile on both your faces. He surprises you by tilting your head in his direction with his forefinger. You watch him watching you, a little dazed, a little lost in how his dark hair messily falls over his forehead and his equally dark eyes study your face, his thumb swiping over your lower lip. "You um... There was ketchup right there." he lies.

"Oh" you say, feeling your face heating up. "Thanks. Red doesn't really match this dress." you manage a smile and tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear.

At that, he eyes your dress for a moment, mouth slightly ajar. He's debating on whether or not to say something but you beat him to it.

"I'm sorry, by the way."

"For being late? I already told you it's fin-"

"No." you shake your head. "For... that time when we were young and I was such a concieted brat." you say, looking away , trying to find anything else that's not his pretty face. "I thought I was a queen bee back then. I was annoying and rude, specially to you. I..." you lick your lips. The cherry glittery gloss was already gone. "I thought it was cute, what you said. There was no reason for me to act like that. I know this doesn't make anything right but..." when you turn to face him again, there's still the same expression on his face. "I'm sorry."

A few seconds go by before it's him who's shaking his head. "It's okay. It was a long time ago, anyway." he smiles at you, although it doesn't reach his eyes and seems sorta forced. You sigh, and he takes your hand. "Let's go to the ferris wheel."

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tell you're tense. You're sitting right beside him in the ferris cabin, your back is all straight, you're facing forward and he believes you haven't blinked for what feels like an eternity. He thinks it has everything to do with your conversation a few minutes ago. You were probably not content with his response but what could Jungkook do? There was really no point in apologizing for something that happened years ago, but at the same time, he didn't want to hold anything against you like a resentful asshole because it was really not who he was. But there was still a little bit of stingyness inside of him and he didn't know how to make it go away.

At the end of the day, here you were, on a date with him that you'd asked for, getting along and asking questions about him and laughing at his jokes and trying to start all over again.

But then the ferris wheel starts moving, and he finally understands why you look so uncomfortable.

It's the way you immediately grip his forearm, nails digging in his skin and he swears he hears the smallest gasp forcing itself out your throat.

"Are you... scared?" he tentatively asks.

You say nothing for a while, not moving an inch. He would laugh if you didn't look so pained about it.

"I don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters." you finally say through gritted teeth.

"It's not really that small and ferris wheels are not rollercoasters. " your nails dig deeper and he winces. "Okay, okay. You don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters, and that includes ferris wheels. So why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know. I've never liked ferris wheels but you seemed excited about it, so..."

There's a silence after that in the environment, neither of you exactly sure of what to say or how to act. Until Jungkook moves one of his hands hands until it's resting on the one who's holding onto him for dear life, fingers caressing yours. The warmth of his hand spreads through yours and although it's almost July and you can already feel your sweaty back staining your dress, it's oddly comforting. What's more comforting even, is him twisting his body towards you and talking with the calmest and most soothing tone you've ever heard.

"Look at me." you do instantly, unwillingly, and kinda wish you hadn't. It's almost as if your body will do anything he says without question. Like he has some sort of power over it to just react however he wants. His eyes bore into yours and suddenly the cab doesn't seem so suffocating. "It's just you and me right now. We're not even on a ferris wheel." the corners of his mouth turn slowly upwards. You zone out the environment, suddenly too aware of him and how close he is and how loud the beating of your heart is to your own ears.

"Jungkook."

You swallow the knot in the back of your throat when he removes his hand from yours. It almost makes you protest, - now realizing you've losened the tight grip on his arm- , before it craddles your face, keeping you in place while bringing his body closer.

"You have to stop saying my name like that."

With his thigh touching your thigh, your whole demeanor melts. When he leans closer, and you feel his breath fanning over your lips, your eyes shut closed.

"Tell me I can-" he starts to say.

"Yes." you finish for him. He doesn't doubt on closing the distance between you two. His lips touch yours and your body shakes in excitement. It's just him lightly skimming your lips with his but it's already too much and at the same time, not enough. It has you deepening it, yourself moving closer when he kisses you again. It has you relaxing against him, the tenseness prior disappearing and making you arch your back when his tongue asks for permission.

But it's exactly then, the moment you open your lips to him, that has you losing your mind.

The sparks fly, traveling from your head to your toes and then settling on the pit of your stomach as soon as the kiss starts to turn desperate and rough. When he nibbles your lips with his teeth, it makes you mewl and whine and your nipples tight against the cotton of your dress. It makes the metal barbell to feel uncomfortable, slightly painful. And when he goes back to being messy and filthy with his tongue tangled with yours, your thighs close on their own.

He forces himself to pull his hand back and bring it down, finding the parting of yd opening them for him. "Wait," you say, your fingers wrapping around his forearm as you try to catch your breath."The ferris-" he shuts you up with another kiss.

"We're not on a ferris wheel." he reminds you, a soft whisper against your mouth. And for whatever reason, you believe him.

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"He fingered you on the ferris wheel."

"Yes."

"And you came before the ride was over."

You take a small sip of wine, your eyes focusing on the TV where a rerun of the Golden Girls is playing, although, to be fair, lately you haven't been able to pay much attention to anything else but a certain brunet with doe eyes and kisseable lips. "Yes."

She hums, stealing a handful of popcorn from the bowl between your thighs.

"How long did it took? Like five minutes?"

There's a pause in which you clench your jaw, your fingers twitching around the glass in your hand, and then you answer. "Probably less."

There's another pause, and then-

"Ha...Ha ha...Ha ha ha-"

You let her laugh. It's okay. You knew you had it coming.

Chaelin knows the pillow you throw right at her face is also something she had coming.

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It's not that you're mad.

Jungkook and you had a great time on that fair date, he made you laugh, bought hot dogs and drinks for the two of you and got you off inside the cab of a ferris wheel on record time with those magical, long fingers of his. Technically, there shouldn't be anything to be angry about.

Except it's been a week and you can't stop thinking about him, about wanting more, and about those words that he left you with after the ferris wheel ride ended, when you had tried to return the favor.

'Next time, maybe.'

And there hasn't been a next time.

The thought of texting him or giving him a call to ask for another date is persistent in your mind. It remains while you do the laundry or wash the dishes, while you shower, while you eat or while you spend your days at the beach with Chaelin. There's always the incessant desire to reach out towards your phone, unlock it and dial his number to beg for more.

But you'd never been one to beg, so you resist the urge everytime that feeling starts to creep up on you and it washes over you like a wave. You silence your phone and try to concentrate on making the most out of your summer.

It's one random night, when you're tiredly dragging your feet across Chaelin's apartment's carpet, yawning and ready to succumb to a well needed slumber, that you see your phone screen's lighting up with a message.

Your heart pathetically leaps inside your chest when you read his name.

'you free on saturday?'

You wish you could say you ghosted him, ignored his text and moved on with your life until it was him who begged you for another date. But the truth is you opened it in a matter of seconds and typed 'i'm free, why?' back in a rush with trembling fingers.

So now you're on the passanger seat of his car while he sits on the driver seat, the first saturday night of July, like he's Danny Zuko and you're Sandy Olsson, watching a vintage movie in a drive-in theater which plot you don't give a shit about, even if Jungkook's date plan idea made something inside of you churn with adoration.

And the only reason why you don't give a single damn about the movie playing in front of your eyes, is because you're hot. Way too hot. And the reason and cause is none other than the boy-now-turned-man sitting on your left.

You barely exchanged words when he picked you up, just rode in silence until you got to your destination and you bet he can feel as well as you do the tension in the air.

You've surveyed him a few times from the corner of his eye, noticing him fiddling with the rings around his fingers and shifting in his seat from time to time. And if the sight of his fingers bring memories that you've tried to bury to keep yourself from lunching towards him, a brief glance at his forearms, adorned with ink drawn through his golden flesh -doing a poor job at concieling the veins running underneath- and his skin-tight jeans wrapping those muscled thighs of his is enough to have you be the one squirming in your seat.

A woman can only endure so much, and you come to that realization thirty minutes into the movie.

"I want to suck your cock." you say, a stern expression on your face as you turn your body in his direction.

Jungkook frozes as your voice slides over him. It takes him a couple seconds to look at you, shock widening his eyes and parting his lips.

"Huh?" he manages, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white.

Without separating your gaze from his, you gather your hair and tie it in a ponytail with the hair tie previously around your wrist. You don't miss the quick glance he sneaks into the curvature of your neck and the valley between your breasts.

Inching forward, closing in on him, you place one of your hands on top of his thigh, the action making his whole body tense. "____..." he whispers your name in a warning that doesn't sound convincing even in his own ears.

You smile, your eyes never wavering from his as your hand inches upwards, slowly caressing over the fabric of his jeans until you finally come across what you were looking for.

His hand flies to your wrist, stilling your movements. "____, this is not-". He starts, but his voice gets stuck inside his throat when you palm his undoubtly growing erection.

"Shh." your shaky breath fans over his cheek and you force yourself on your knees on the passanger seat in a more comortable possition to stop the trembling to reach them.

You fumble with the belt holding his pants in place, then with the button and finally with the zipper. He helps you by lifting his hips to pull his jeans and boxers to his thighs and you have to bite back a mixture between a gasp and a moan at the sight below you. You haven't even seen Jeon Jungkook naked all the way, but the mere sight of his hard cock with pre-cum glistening on his crown is probably the sexiest thing you've ever had the pleasure of appreciating.

It gets sexier when you wrap your hand around the base and his body melts in the driver seat, throwing his head back with his eyes shut. It gets even sexier when you finally lower your head, swirling your tongue over the head before finally engulfing him fully in the wet warmth of your mouth.

"Shit." his voice is tight, uneven as his hand loosely grips your ponytail, as if careful not to accidentally hurt you and break the glorious moment.

Although you wouldn't mind at all. Because the moment your hands are on him, and your tongue is on his shaft, that's the only thing you care about. Your belly is twisting, an undeniable wet spot on your panties as the fabric sticks to your folds, and the more you suck Jungkook, the more you want from him. His earthy taste is addicting and the soft little whimpers he occasionally can't prevent himself from are making you want to milk him until he can't take it no more. There's this desire within you to whorship him and his cock like you had been dreaming for the past weeks.

"This is s-so fucking h-hot." he rasps between ragged breaths, the bobbing of your head, sliding up and down his dick as your hand works the centimeters your mouth can't take is about to make him faint.

"Getting a blowjob?" you joke, your throat starting to feel sore as you kiss his leaking tip.

"N-no." he draws in a rough breath when you take him all of him again. "You giving me a blowjob... T-the f-fact that anyone c-could see us..." he darts a quick glance at your body, your ass up in the air and your dress sliding down, almost exposing you completely. "The fact that-ah! Shit..." he squeezes his eyes when he feels a glob of your spit lubricating him.

There's a sudden need to make you feel the same, to touch your skin and have you shaking the same way you have him. So one of his hands travels from your spine, to your perked ass, finally dragging the cotton of your dress to allow himself to see your thin white panties. "The fact that anyone could see you l-like this," he murmurs, regaining a little bit of control when he squeezes one of your cheeks. "letting t-them see you s-sucking my cock and..." he smirks when he feels you gasping around him, his fingers trapped between your thighs and pushing them inside your heat easily "and letting them see me fingering this pretty little pussy."

Soon after that he's cumming in your mouth while you're cumming around his fingers.

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At first, it's mostly on weekends when you see each other. Weekends of stolen kisses and soft sighs and whispering against each other's lips. Then weekends turn to week days, sitting on grass while sipping on refreshing beverages, drawing each other laughs, elbows touching as you walk around the park side by side because the both of you are too scared to interwine your fingers together.

Jungkook feels content like this: sitting on the sand with you between his thighs, admiring the sunset while nuzzing your neck and inhaling your scent every now. He likes waching you enoying your strawberry ice cream, almost forgetting the chocolate chip one already melting in his hand.

"If you were an ice cream flavor,which one would you be?" you ask him, relaxing against his chest.

"Rocky road."

"Why?"

He shrugs behind you. "Everyone likes rocky road."

You hum, playfully rolling your eyes. "What about me? Which ice cream flavor would I be?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer."

"Lemon sherbet? Out of all of the flavours out there, you're rocky road and I'm lemon sherbet?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer." he corrects.

"Okay, fine. Why?"

"You're boring and basic."

You gasp, trying to feign outrage but not being able to repress the laugh that escapes your throat. You elbow him, his laugh mixing with yours while taking the time to wrap his arms around your form, the breeze blowing your hair allowing him a spot between your neck and your shoulder. "You're boring and basic, but once you have a taste..." he presses a small kiss on your skin, causing the tiny hairs on the nape of your neck to rise. "Once you have a taste, specially on the hottest day in the middle of summer, you can't stop tasting and licking until there's no more lemon sherbet left."

You suck in on a breath when he craddles your jaw to face him. "It's been my favourite flavor since I was a kid." he kisses you immediately after, his lips swallowing the small whimper now stuck in your throat.

You close your eyes as his tongue opens your mouth, arousal blasting your insides and something much, much deeper that you fear to even name shredding your chest.

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The beginning of august comes faster then you two realize, but what you both do realize is how hard it's becoming to stay away from each other.

It's been thirty days of dates happening almost everyday, sharing high school memories and anecdotes of the time you spent away from each other. Hours of getting to know each other and opening up to each other. From failed relationships to new friendships. Of park dates walking side by side and fingers now interwined because you both realized one day that, fuck it.

It's difficult to sleep when you realize you're starting to catch serious feelings for somebody who was just supposed to be a fling. It's hard to sleep when his face, his voice and his touch and thoughts of missing him when you don't see each other start haunting you at night.

It's hard for Jungkook to focus on work when you're everything that's occupying his mind. Because he has a hundred sketches to make but he's too busy thinking about the hundred different sketches he would make of you.

It's hard not to send him a goodnight text, just like it's hard for him not to reply in a matter of seconds, almost as if he was already waiting to recieve it.

Jungkook thinks of you at night. Of how pretty and absolutely perfect you are for him. Of the taste of your lips, the way your hair feels between his fingers, or the flush on your cheeks when he makes you cum as droplets of sweat accumulate between your breasts. He thinks about your voice. He also thinks about the amount of hours left to be able to listen to it again.

But mostly he thinks about how ridiculous this situation is. Because he was stupidly crushing on you when you were only teenagers, daydreaming about a chance with you. And now his crush is long gone and he's starting to realize that he's falling, and falling fast.

You, too, think of Jungkook at night. Of his ability to bring a smile out of you, to soothe you with just a few words and filling your belly excitement, happiness and feelings you're sure you've never felt before.

Jungkook's managed to imprint himself in your dreams, and you, in his.

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Getting drunk with Jungkook is fun and messy.

It's fun because he lets loose, he stutters a lot like he used to do when he was a teenager and he makes you laugh louder than ever before. It's messy because he has no control over his hands as they explore your body, clumsily taking your clothes off as his mouth laps at the breast he's allowed to touch.

He's more forceful and dominating too, pinning your hands above your head, and commanding you to keep them right there, on the pillows of his bed. When you rebel against it, your fingers finding the hard planes of his chest, he pulls away from you and places them back where he left them. "Don't make me tie you up." he threatens, and your body shudders beneath him.

He sucks, and bites and leaves marks all over your skin, grunting in response to your moans. Creating a path of kisses from your lips to your stomach, his shoulders separating your knees, opening you up only for him. And thankfully, when you reach down to tug at the strands of hair framing his face, he lets you, because he knows you need something to hold on to the moment his tongue eats you up. He leaves his fingertrips on your thighs as he keeps you in place, not allowing you to runaway. Just forcing you to take it as he takes from you.

And when you cum, he doesn't back away. He keeps sucking, and licking and punishing you with his mouth until you're cumming over and ove again, screaming and begging for his cock.

Having Jungkook over you, both completely naked, skin to skin and only sweat in between is more than you could've ever fantazised about. He slurls your name when he puts the condom on. He would do anything to feel you raw, but he also knows he wouldn't be able to last a minute. The sight of you spread open, with your cheeks darkened by a crimson blush and your hair tangled all over his pillow is a picture he wants to keep forever.

He enters you when you call his name, your voice dripping with need. He stretches your warm and wet felsh, slowly easing himself into you at first, until he's fully inside and your bodies are completely in union. A shiver runs down Jungkook's spine when he looks at your contorted face in pleasure, your lips forming an 'O' and your pussy clenching around him.

"Oh, my God." you moan into the dark of Jungkook's room, and even then, he can clearly appreciate every curve of your body lifting off the mattress to connect with his. He lowers himself on his elbows on either side of your head, caging you in and capturing your mouth with his.

"I know, baby." he murmurs. It's hot, in the middle of August but suddenly Jungkook doesn't hate summer as much as he used to. Not with you sharing the heat with him. "It's way beyond what I could ever imagine." You nod hurriedly against his lips, your arms finding their way around his neck as he starts rocking in and out of you.

"It's too good." you cry, when he hits a particular spot that has you rolling your eyes in bliss and gripping his waist tighter with your legs against you. Your fingers thread through his hair, not bothered by the beads of sweat gathered on the nape of his neck.

"Too good..." he agrees, not missing the shiver that's shaking your own frame when he picks up his speed. "You have no idea what I would do t-to fucking feel you with n-no barriers between us," his movements become frantic as his hips slap against yours, his jaw clenched as he keeps talking, "to s-stuff you full of my c-cum over and over again until it won't stop d-dripping."

Jungkook's voice against your ear has you trembling and your orgasm nearing closer, your nails scratching down his back as his thrusts overpower your form. "Would you like that?" he asks with his voice strangled.

"Y-yes. Anything y-you want."

"You'd take all of my cum like a good cum-slut?"

You hate the fact that that's what makes you come undone. The twisting and knotting in the pit of your stomach finally snapping until you're holding on to him like you never want to let him go and he's following soon after.

Because if Guk, Gukkie, Jengukkie was not only able to make you come in less than a few minutes with his fingers or his tongue, but he was also able to make you cum instantly just by calling you a good cum-slut, that means you're fucked. Like, really, really fucked.

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There's a knot in Jungkook's stomach and a suffocating grip around his vocal chords as he caresses your skin. The sun is rising in the distance with the first rays of light entering his room through the window. Your shamphoo is intoxicating him, numbing him and enticing him to bury his nose in the tangled curls pressing against his chest. Your arm is thrown across his stomach, your breathing leavig goosebumps all over his body.

"It's too early. Go back to sleep." you mumble against his heart. He wonders if you can feel it dangerously speeding up.

"I can't." he says, voice struggling to stay balanced. "I have to tell you something."

You hum in response, sleep still interwined with your body, your arm tightening around him. You sigh in content, expecting him to elaborate.

He wets his suddenly dry lips. "I don't want this to end. In fact, ____.... I want more. Need more."

"Jungkook..." your whole body goes rigid right away, untanglling your bodies from each other and sitting up on the mattress.

"No, listen to me." he mimicks your movements, rapidly grabbing your hands to make you look at him. His eyes are expressive, a mixture of fear and hope swirling in his dark irises. "I wake up everyday, and you're the first thing I think of. I go on about my day, and I keep thinking about you, wondering what you're doing and counting down the hours until I get to see you again. I spend every night dreaming about you, and when we'e together, the only thing I can think about is how I wish I could stop time so I don't have to say bye to you the next morning. ____, I-"

"Jungkook, stop please." you shake your head, pushing away from him and in desperate need of air. You press a hand against your chest, beating back the throb of pain while the other curls in a tight fist, the feeling of your fingernails digging into your palm less painful than the ache inside your heart. "This... This wasn't supossed to happen, Jungkook." you start pacing around the room, as if trying to find an exit while avoiding his gaze. "This was just a summer fling. That's all it was, I'm supposed to come back to the city in two weeks and-"

"A summer fling?" a sardonic sneer comes out of him. "Oh my God, I can't believe this is happening again..." he mumbles to himself before rising from the bed. You stop immediately, a shiver quaking through you as his impressive frame intimidates His eyebrows are drawn together and his dark eyes are void of any prior emotion. "You're going back to the city in two weeks? And you didn't care to tell me until now, after I just spilled my guts to you?"

You eyes fill up with uncomfortable tears, reaching one arm towards him. "Jung-"

He flinches, taking one step back. "A summer fling is all I mean to you?"

"Ju- "

"Look me in the eyes, right now, and tell me that's all I mean to you. A summer fling." panic crawls up your throat. There's the need within you to confirm, to stare into his beautiful and stern eyes and tell him that, yes, that's all he is to you. But you've never been a good liar. So nothing comes out. You opt for wrapping your ams around yourself wishing they were his and lowering your eyes to the ground. "I think... I think you should leave."

Those are the last words he says to you, and the last thing you see when you turn around one more time after gathering your clothes, is his back as he looks out the window.

You allow yourself to cry the exact moment you step into Chaelin's apartment. Your friend is sitting on the couch, bowl of cereal in hand and a fresh cup of coffee sitting on the livingroom's table.

"Hey, you're early tod- Baby, what's wrong?"

"Please, don't laugh."

That morning, you lay down for hours on the couch with your head on Chaelin's lap while she softly brushes your hair as you cry, hiccup, fight through the pain in your heart and relate to her as best as you can the latest events.

She doesn't laugh at all.

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"She'll come back." Mijoo's slurred words do nothing to put Jungkook's state at ease that night. He simply shrugs, fingers clenching at his sides, frowing into his drink before gulping down the bitter taste of vodka in one shot. "Seriously, I think she's just afraid. My ex was the same."

"Comparing her to your ex is not the analogy you think it is."

"Ugh, shut up. Things didn't work with my ex because she was a bitch." Jungkook gives Mijoo a pointed look which she responds to by rolling her eyes and sipping on her rum coke. "Your girl is not a bitch. She used to be a bitch. What she did this morning was bitchy, but, like I said, she's just being a pussy. If she only wanted sex with you, she wouldn't have been doing couple stuff with you the entire summer."

"Whatever. I don't care." he lies and Mijoo knows he's lying but decides to drop the subject fo now.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

"We can't keep spending our days smoking weed." Chaelin speaks over Blanche's voice on the TV.

"I know. I'm just sad."

"You have to come back and tell him how you feel."

"I know."

There's a beat of silence before your friend kicks your thigh with her feet.

"I know and I will." you mumble through red eyes and smoke clouds.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

It's September first and it doesn't feel like Jungkook's birthday at all. He's been trying to focus on his work, alternating between isolating in full hermit mode and hanging out with friends to drink away his sorrow. The days have gone by and before he could realize it, he woke up today with over twenty text messages wishing him a happy day and a throbbing hangover.

He dresses up on autopilot. First a cotton shirt, then a pair of jeans and lastly, his Nike's. He doesn't bother tying his sneakers just like he doesn't bother taking a shower. He smokes a cigarette for breakfast, the death stick making him feel nauseaus on an empty stomach. And then he goes to work.

He's been repeating the same routing for the past weeks and he's not thinking of changing it, not even on his bithday.

He spends hours drawing, tattooing and drawing some more between yawns. He ignores texts an phone calls and simply waits until the day is over to go home, go to bed and forget about the fact that you're probably on your way to the city and that he hasn't crossed your mind not even once.

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Inkphoria.

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping cup of ice cream as it melts down your fingers the more you wait. The shop is already empty and it's starting to darken out side, and still you're so hot. Your shorts are heavy and your tank top is sticking to your skin. You didn't even bother to put on any make, although your eyebags definitely needed some concieling and your lashes some dimension to hide the fact that you'd been crying for the last few days.

'You're crazy about him.'

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

You've lost count of how many times your best friend has given your advice, or simply encouraged you to do something you've been too scared to try.

'And he's cazy about you too.'

Chaelin might be wrong about marmite and the movie Cats, but she's definitely now wrong about anything regarding your and Jungkook.

That's it. You briefly close your eyes, inhale a deep breath then release it slowly. You start walking. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing the door open.

The tattoed blonde looks up from the counter the second you come into view. She smiles at the distance between you two. "You can come closer. I won't bite."

You clear your throat, stalking closer to her. "Is he-"

"He's in the back." she replies before you can finish you question. You close your mouth, clear your throat and nod your head.

"Thanks, Mijoo." she gives you a small wink, her smile easing your nerves like she had three months ago.

She watches you disappear. She shakes he head, her smile meeting her eyes. "I told him so."

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Jungkook ignores the knock on his door at first. It's almost ten and the parlor is about to close. He just has to finish this last fucking sketch so he can grab his shit and go the fuck ho-

Knock knock.

He growls, exhasperation cursing through him. He runs a hand through his messy pile of hair, his rings tangling between the strands, making him wince in pain. "Come in." he grunts under his breath. The door opens. "Mijoo, I really have to finish-"

He stops dead in his tracks as soon as he sees you.

"Hey." you say after a moment of hesitation.

"Hey." he replies and although there's something inside, deep in his chest, shouting at him to stand up, run up to you and kiss your face while he tells you how beautiful you look right now and how happy he is to see that you're still here, he decides against it. "Listen, ____, I'm pretty busy-"

"No, you listen to me." you cut him off abruptly. He looks taken aback and is already opening his mouth to say something, but you're not having it. "Please, just... Let me talk."

Silence looms between the two of you for a while, a staring contest defying each other to back down. When you take one step inside and close the door behind you, he sighs and leans back against his chair.

You move towards him slowly, your lip caught between your lip going through your mind for the speech you'd been preparing the last few days. Your hands are sticky due to the the sugary treat liquifying in your hand. "I know there's no reason you should give me another chance after rejecting you in high school, and there's definitely no reason why you should forgive me for the way I shut you out a few weeks ago. You've been confessing your feelings to me since we were teenagers, and now it's my turn to tell you exactly how I feel about you."

"Jungkook, the truth is... I like you so much. I like you more than I've ever liked anyone. Ever. I said this was just a summer fling, and I was lying. I was lying because there's no way a simple summer fling could make me feel the way you do. There's no way a simple summer fling could make me want not just summer with you, but also fall and winter, and spring and every summer that comes next."

You hadn't realize when your eyes filling up with tears until the sight of him starts blurrying in front of you. His fingers reach yours, his thumb comforting on your skin. "____, it's okay-"

"I'm not done yet." you sniffle, gathering enough courage to continue. "I brought you a lemon sherbet because you said it was your favourite. But you also implied I was your favourite, and I want to keep being you favourite, but now it's already melted and-"

The corners of Jungkook's lips start pulling upward as he tugs you towards him, his heart loudly jumping inside his chest. "Shhh, come here."

He takes the ice cream from your hand and places it on his desk. Then he's helping you onto his lap, your head tucked under his chin and your arms wapping on their own around his neck.

He doesn't care about your sticky fingers or the wet stains of your tears in his shirt. The only thing he cares about is the fact that you're right there, letting him engulf your frame and drown in the scent and warmth he'd misses so much.

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The first day of June has Jungkook sweating and wishing for a haircut. Jungkook usually hates summer. He hates the fact that he has to shower at least twice a day, and the fact that the heat is almost unbearable to sleep in and also the fact that he's easily sunburnt.

This year, however, Jungkook likes summer a little bit more.

"Excuse me, miss. Do you have an appointment?" it's the fact that you're starting to wear those summer dresses he loves so much, and the fact that your skin glows under the sun like glitter, and also the fact that he can lick ice cream off of it whenever he desires.

"I am the appointment." your giggle is almost childlike, playing with Jungkook's heart strings. You shut the door behind you, nearing him. You also seem to always have that flush on your cheeks. Although he likes to think part of it is due to him. He doesn't say anything else as he puts his pencil down and instead turns around in the chair to have you immediately on top of his thighs.

Yeah, he also likes the path your lips trace from his cheek, to his jaw, ending at the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. It still makes his body quaver to this day.

"Let me see." he murmurs against you forhear, his hand already working on unbottoning the front of your dress.

"Mijoo hasn't left yet." you whisper back, your smile impossible to supress and the faint whimper impossible to hide when his fingers expose your breast and tug at the titanium barbell adorning the already hardened nub.

Jungkook loves knowing he was the one to do that, and also the only one to play with it. He doesn't hesitate when he dips his head. "As if we'd ever cared about that." he adds, wrapping your sole point in his mouth.

He fucks you on his studio table with your legs around his waist and his tongue playing with both your breasts, the tattoo sketches long forgotten, scattered on the floor as he whispers against your flesh something that sounds a lot like 'I love you'.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #bts fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #bts #bts fic #bts smut #jungkook fic

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