#if he hadn’t been kicked out of the club bc he was too drunk i would’ve gone home with him

[duskholland]

a compilation of the worst moments from my work night out but it’s just me embarrassing myself

[rebeccccccaaa]

ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛ _____________________

ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ’s!ʙᴇsᴛ!ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ!ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇs ᴀᴜ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You and Buck have always been close growing up but you two soon learn that the line that separates friendly and flirting is a lot thinner than you think.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: fluff, slight angst bc u got a shit bf, big bro vibes from bucky, smut duh [18+ minors dni (slight praise but also slight degradation, marking, belly bulge, squirting, fem!rec oral, unprotected sex, plz be safe irl, slight choking, pet names: darling&princess, i think that’s it lmk plz)]

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇs: hey assholes i'm back for the time being lol. I have a few ideas and fics I'm currently writing right now so do not fret.

______________________________________

You knew this was a horrible idea. 

It’s Saturday night and you and your boyfriend were back in another night club after being kicked out from one just hours before. Daniel had gotten too drunk, as he always does, causing you to kindly ask the bartender to cut him off. Daniel didn’t take that too lightly resulting in a gnarly swing at the poor guy just doing his job. 

Security threw you out and Daniel called an Uber to go where you thought was going to be your apartment but twenty minutes later you pulled up to another club practically on the other side of town. You yelled at Daniel but he pushed aside stumbling inside for yet even more drinks and mistakes waiting for him inside. 

You sat at the bar simply drinking some water and snacking on some peanuts keeping your eye on your garbage boyfriend. You're constantly checking the time on your phone, annoyed with every passing minute. It was 2 am and you just wanted to go home and sleep. You were even debating texting your brother Steve hoping you could just crash at his place not too far from where you were but it would be incredibly irresponsible to just leave Daniel in the state he’s in. 

So you waited and waited and waited. Your eyelids felt heavy and your energy was just completely drained. You were basically a zombie. It wasn’t until a guy approached your half asleep body that you felt a sense of alert. Daniel was shit-faced so you were practically defenseless. 

“Hey,” the guy shouted over the music.

“Sorry, I’m not interested. My boyfriend’s-” you quickly said, only to be cut off.

“Don’t worry. I’m not gonna hit on you. I’ve got a boyfriend of my own,” he chuckled, making you breathe out in relief. 

“Sorry,” you cringed at yourself. 

“It’s alright; but uh, I hate to be the one to tell you this. You might want to check with your boyfriend,” he said sympathetically. 

You pushed your way through the crowd scanning every face in search of Daniel. What did he do? Is he hurt? Did he get in trouble again? Is he getting arrested? Where is he-

“Daniel?” you said eyes tearing up a bit. 

His arms were wrapped around another girl’s waist as he kissed her the way he kissed you. She practically moaned as their tongues slobbered disgustingly with each other. Their hips grinding against each other proactively as if you weren’t even there. Sadness turned to anger, and anger turned to rage, gripping Daniel’s short hairs and pulling his head away from whoever this girl was. 

“What the fuck?” the girl complained, her eyes completely bloodshot. 

“Did he tell you that he was here with his girlfriend tonight?” you're sad with gritted teeth. Daniel stumbled around still unable to register what the hell was happening. 

“Oh my god, you forreal?” she said.

“Who fucking cares? She’s a prude anyway. I got more action with you than I did her in the past, what, six months?” Daniel slurred. 

“You know what, you’re a fucking prick, dude. She deserves so much better than you; I bet your dick is small anyway,” the girl said.

“Fuck you too bitch,” Daniel spit. 

“I can’t believe you,” you said. 

“Oh, whoop-dee-doo, big fucking surprise. Babe, you’re a prude. Can’t you see it? I don’t know why I’m wasting my time with you anymore,” he practically puked out the words without any second thought. 

“Fine, then I hope you enjoy the rest of your night, you fucking asshole,” you stormed away holding in the tears; he wasn’t worth it. 

Almost three am and you just dumped your cheating lowlife boyfriend on the other side of town. Steve wasn’t answering his phone and you even wanna be near the club anymore. Walking speedily staring at your screen desperate to call an Uber home, you bumped harshly into a hard chest falling to the ground on your bum. 

“Fucking hell, I’m so sorry, darling,” the man said helping you up by your elbows.

“It’s ok. I wasn’t looking- Bucky?” 

“Oh, hey kid. What are you doing? It’s like three in the morning and you don’t live anywhere near here,” Bucky said, crossing his arms. 

“Daniel got himself kicked from the one by our apartment and Ubered here instead.”

“So where’s Daniel?” Bucky scowled; he’s always hated that guy, so did Steve.

“Probably fucking some other chick in the bathroom,” your voice cracked. 

“What?”

“It’s nothing; I just want to go home,” you cried.

“Hey, it’s ok; it’s ok. Do you wanna crash at me and Steve’s? He’s gone for the weekend with Peggy; you can stay in his room at least for the night,” Bucky offered; so that’s why Steve’s not answering his phone. 

“I don’t wanna intrude on your night. I can just call an Uber, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. Steve’ll kill me if he found out I left his baby sis alone in the streets of New York at three in the morning. It’s not a problem, we were just bar hopping and I stopped drinking ages ago.”

“Are you sure, Buck?”

“Of course,” he smiled warmly at you. 

“Hey, Nat!”

“What’s up?” a beautiful redhead approached you both.

“Gonna head home ; don’t do anything stupid,” he chuckled. 

“You too,” she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, “Catch you Monday?” 

“You’re stupid. I’ll see ya,” Bucky laughed before grabbing your hand and headed towards his apartment. 

“Thanks again, Buck. For letting me stay here tonight,” you said once you entered his apartment. 

It had been a while since you hung out at your brother’s apartment but nothing’s changed. Typical men and their inability to change even a throw pillow. You set your small bag on the couch before Bucky led you to Steve’s room. There were pictures of you and him posing at Steve’s graduation; and later your own. Pictures of Steve and Bucky at a theme park, during a bar-be-que for Steve’s birthday. So many memories that Steve held onto in his room. 

“Time really flies doesn’t it?” Bucky said, slightly startling you.

“Sorry,” he chuckled.

“No, you’re fine. But you’re right. Feels all these pictures were taken yesterday,” you reminisced. 

“I got you some clothes if you need to change; I’ll give you privacy,” Bucky said, slipping from the room briskly. 

You sat on the bed frustrated with everything. Your body was so drained from being up so early in the night, to the fight with Daniel. The past couple months with him were so awful. He was just so mean to you all the time and you didn’t know what you did wrong. Where did it go wrong? When did things shift?

"Is everything ok, darling?" Bucky asked quietly, knocking on the door when you hadn't come out after a while.

"What did I do wrong? I thought he loved me," you choked out. 

Bucky sighed as he walked over to the bed sitting beside you before engulfing you in a warm hug. You cried into his shoulder and Bucky couldn't help the anger that bubbled inside him for your excuse of a boyfriend Daniel. He never got along with the guy and now he finally has a reason to knock his teeth in.

"You didn't do anything, I know it. That prick wouldn't know love if it hit him in the face. It's his loss. You deserve so much better than that asshole. Look at me, you're so beautiful and funny and fucking adorable; any guy who can't see how perfect you are, is a dense piece of shit." 

"James," you whispered. 

His words made your heart skip and your stomach flutter. But Bucky’s always had that effect on you. Even growing up. You weren’t going to sit there and pretend that hearing his words hadn't had a deeper effect than they would’ve coming from Daniel. Sometimes you wondered what being with Bucky would be like. You’re not the first to admit how handsome Bucky was and growing up you did have quite the crush on your brother’s best friend.  

You don't know what it was, whether it was the alcohol still swimming through your veins, or just feeling so vulnerable being in Bucky's arms but you wanted him badly. You needed him, needed to feel something again. And you knew he could give it to you. You pressed your lips to his and in an instant his hands dropped to your hips pulling you impossibly close against his body. Your hands went to the back of his head as you kissed him messily. Your noses bumped and teeth clashed but it was the best kiss you’ve ever had. 

“Fuck, your brother’s gonna kill me,” Bucky mumbled, almost to himself, as he slowly laid you down on your back.

Bucky’s hands trailed up your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh every now and then as he continued kissing you passionately. Your own hands couldn’t help but tug at his shirt desperately. When he did so, your breath was completely taken away. It had been years since you’d seen Bucky without a shirt. 

Not only had he been quite skinny just like your brother back then, but not long after leaving for college with Steve he was in a bike accident that left him with ghastly scars and burns along his left arm and shoulder. Since then, it’s fair to say Bucky never really ever took his shirt off. It had taken years just for him to remove the glove he’d always wear to cover the scars on his hand.

“You’ve gotten so strong, James,” you grinned, reaching out to brush the flexed muscles running down his front. 

He simply stared at you with an anticipating and anxious expression on his face, waiting for you to state the obvious. When you didn’t, when you pulled his head down to kiss him once again, he almost cried. Bucky hadn’t been with a woman in so long, afraid of this very moment. He knew at that moment, there was no one quite like you. 

Bucky fell in love. 

“Let me take care of you, darling. You’ve been so good to me,” Bucky whispered huskily in your ear as he trailed his hand under your own shirt brushing his fingertips along the underside of your breast.

His lips pressed softly against your hot skin along your neck before standing up between your legs at the end of the bed. He pulled your shirt off then played cheekily with the straps of your bra that you still had on. You smiled back at him with the same playful stare, reaching behind you to unclasp the material. 

You could see the way Bucky’s eyes darken and his pupils widened as he stared in awe at your naked chest. Your skin bursted into chills under his hungry gaze even though you felt like you were burning up. Bucky leaned forward kissing down the valley of your breasts, nipping once in a while playfully before laying you back down. He shimmied you out of your bottoms easily, kneeling on the ground leaving you completely bare before him. 

“You are absolutely stunning, princess,” Bucky whispered, running his hands up your thighs slowly. 

“Bucky, please. I need you,” you whimpered. 

“Don’t worry, darling. I promise I’m gonna take good care of you,” he smirked devilishly. 

He pushed your knees open, eyeing the arousal that glistened between your thighs. He brought his fingers up to you slowly rubbing your slick around before finally pushing a thick and long finger past your folds. Your body shuddered solely at the foreign but pleasurable feeling, already moaning softly. 

Bucky’s cock strained through pants upon hearing your beautiful moans; they were like music to his ears. He couldn’t help the way his hips would buck into the mattress in a desperate attempt to relieve some pain from his erection. Soon after he pulled his fingers from you slowly only to thrust them further in you, curling his fingers just right. 

He brought his mouth down to you, wrapping his lips around your clit sucking harshly. You gasped and your back arched, overwhelmed with pleasure Bucky was giving you with just his mouth and fingers. All the times that you’d given yourself to your ex, he had never made you feel this good before, feel this full; let alone with his fingers. Bucky was taking his time with you solely for your own pleasure and it made your heart swoon. 

Your legs trapped Bucky’s head between your thighs, squeezing as he continued to eat you out like a starved man. Your hands went to his hair pulling on his dark locks causing Bucky to moan deeply against you. You were so close to a release; your legs shaking violently and your stomach tightening. 

“Come on, princess. Want you to come all over my face. Can you do that for me, darling?”

“Fuck!”

“Be a good girl and make a mess,” Bucky teased.

His fingers moved faster as he swirled his tongue around and over your clit just as quickly. You were becoming overwhelmed and that coil bursted in the pit of your stomach. You pushed Bucky’s face from you, shrieking with pure pleasure; Bucky’s kept the rapid pace with fingers as you fell over the edge.

“Fucking hell, that was so hot, princess,” Bucky said standing up; his fingers, arm, his chest was covered in your arousal. 

“Did I do that?” your voice trembled. 

“Because of me,” Bucky winked playfully.

“I didn’t know I could do that,” you let your head fall back on the bed as you briefly caught your breath.

Bucky grabbed his shirt that he discarded not long ago and quickly wiped his chest and arm before discarding his pants and boxers. He nearly moaned at the feeling when he finally freed his dick from the restraining garments. His hand instantly wrapped around the base before pumping himself a few times. 

You brought yourself onto your elbows momentarily ogling at the sight of Bucky completely bare before you. Your mouth practically watered at the sight. Bucky crawled over you kissing you deeply and messily; but perfectly. He pulled away and you both had goofy smiles on your faces before bursting into a fit of giggles, Bucky’s head burying into the crook of your neck.

“You’re so goddamn adorable, princess,” Bucky’s voice was muffled. 

“Bucky,” you whined. 

You couldn’t resist squirming underneath the burly man. Although, you’ve just had what was probably the best orgasm you’ve ever had, you wanted more. You needed more; you needed Bucky. 

“I got you, darling. I got you.” 

Bucky wanted to tease you more, make you beg, but he was just as desperate to feel you as you were. He propped himself up on his elbows kissing you one last time before reaching between your bodies and lining his dick with your entrance. Both you and Bucky moaned simultaneously as he stretched you out; curses spilling from his lips as incoherent moans fell from yours. 

“So fucking tight, princess. Squeezing my cock just right, aren’t ya?” he whispered.

“Fuck, I feel so full,” you whimpered.

Bucky began to slowly move his hips in and out of you deliciously. He quickly picked up the pace, jetting his hips rapidly making your moans louder. Bucky sat up on his knees and gripped your waist surely to leave bruises in your wake. This new angle surprised you and you couldn’t help the squeals and moans that left your mouth. You chanted Bucky's name like a prayer; as if it was the only word you knew. 

Bucky watched you carefully, your face contorting with pure euphoric pleasure. He couldn’t help notice the small bump in your lower belly and without a second thought, he grabbed your hands pressing them firmly over your tummy. 

“You feel how deep I am, darling? Fucking poking through,” Bucky grunted. 

“Shit! Oh, it feels so good,” you moaned. 

“That’s right, no one’s ever gonna fuck you this good again. This pussy’s mine now,” Bucky growled. 

He took one of his hands and wrapped it around your throat squeezing the sides gently but firm at the same time. Your eyes rolled back and you moaned even louder, confident that the neighbors were sure to complain in the morning. Feeling Bucky’s hand around your neck was so exhilarating; you and Daniel had never ever experimented with anything beyond a pair of handcuffs, and that particular night went horribly. 

You like being choked by Bucky. 

“Fucking slut; you like this, don’t ya?” he came down to whisper huskily against your lips. 

“Mh-hm,” you moaned with a devilish grin, your bottom lip resting between your teeth before your eyes rolled back again. 

“Such a fucking beauty you are.”

Bucky hips snapped in and out and he knew it wouldn’t be long until he needed to release.

“God, I’m close, princess,” he growled. 

His hand moved to rest on the back of your neck to pull you up so you straddled his thighs and your chest was flushed against his. Your sensitive and hardened nipples brushed against his slightly sweaty skin causing you to shudder in pleasure. Bucky’s lips attached themselves to your skin along your collar bones sucking harshly leaving purple marks all along.

Your legs shook once again as they did before and soon enough with an arched back and shout of Bucky’s name you came all over his cock. Overwhelmed with your sex, Bucky bit harshly on your shoulder in a poor attempt to muffled the loud groans and moans he elicited. Feeling your velvety walls squeeze tightly around him pushed him over the edge, coating your walls with hot ribbons on cum. 

He fell forward almost crushing you but you were too tired to complain. Bucky continued to pepper soft kisses all over your skin whispering how good you were to him, how beautiful you looked. Just absolutely showering with compliments. You felt him slowly getting off you, probably afraid he was crushing you, but you didn’t want him to leave just yet. 

“Don’t,” you whispered, wrapping your arms tightly around his body. 

“I don’t want to crush you, darling.”

“You’re not.”

Bucky chuckled before settling completely above you, careful not to make you uncomfortable. Hardly any time went by when he felt the even and soft puffs of air hitting his skin, sure that you had fallen asleep. He picked himself up and with major guilt for his best friend, picked you up from the bed and walked you to his own room. 

After he was sure you stayed sound asleep, Bucky grabbed a clean pair of boxers and hurried himself to Steve’s room again. He collected all the discarded clothes and the dirty sheets and tossed them in the washing machine to clean right away. 

He hadn’t meant to fuck his best friend’s little sister, let alone in his own room, on his own bed, but it all happened so fast. 

He went back to his room letting the clothes do it’s thing, and quickly grabbed his phone. He messaged Steve, telling him that when he got back for his weekend with Peggy, he really needed to talk to him. 

Tonight made Bucky realize how much he loved you. Growing up, you two had always been close. But he doesn’t know when he stopped being friendly and instead began flirting. Bucky wanted to be with you; he knew it now more than ever. 

Bucky watched your gorgeous sleeping form on his bed. He smiled to himself before opening the window; the sun already rising and those beautiful golden rays seeped through the glass window, making you look angelic. He crawled into bed cuddling flushed against your naked body. He chuckled softly when you realized he’d returned, wiggling even further into his arms. 

“I love you, Bucky,” you mumbled. 

“I love you, too, darling.”

And he really, and truly did love you. As did you love him. 

=======================

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[snackhobi]

pairing: yoongi x reader // word count: 15.8k // genre: smut

summary: your idea of a good night certainly doesn't involve being stood up by yet another blind date and finding yourself alone in a fancy bar; fortunately for you, there's an attractive man playing the piano to keep you busy, instead.

warnings: sexually explicit content (NSFW), cursing, minor consumption of alcohol, oral (m and f receiving), protected sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, pet names, slight exhibitionism, slight praise kink, light dom/sub undertones if you squint ig (reader is kind of subby)

– –

Throughout the years of your life, you've learned a few things. Some of them are pretty obvious (buying suspiciously cheap sushi from a petrol station is like playing Russian Roulette with food poisoning and diarrhoea), some of them are less so (just because something is 'on sale' doesn't actually mean that it's cheaper if they'd increased the overall price beforehand), but one thing that you're only just starting to learn is that— for all that Jimin says otherwise— blind dates will always stand you up.

jiminnie is he there yet??

you to my entire lack of surprise, no. i'm starting to wonder if this 'hoseok-hyung' of yours even exists tbh i should have been suspicious from the second you called him a 'friend' bc that implies that you HAVE friends

jiminnie ok RUDE. we're friends??

you suddenly i can't read

The two of you had been outrageously drunk after a night out on the town, once, and Jungkook had come to collect his tipsy boyfriend, and you'd seen the fond way he'd watched Jimin despite his messy behaviour— how he'd given Jimin a piggyback even though it must have been hard with the way Jimin had been squirming and laughing and kicking his legs back and forth— and your heart had squeezed tight in your chest. (You'd been so drunk.)

It had honestly been a slip of the tongue when you'd revealed to Jimin that you were kind of maybe feeling somewhat lonely, a little bit, potentially. You'd had one night stands and short flings but it's been a long time since you've been in an actual relationship, a long time since you've really clicked with someone. Maybe part of you had been missing it, that connection with another person. Normally you're fine with being single, but Jungkook and Jimin are so in love that it spills out from them and you guess in the moment you'd wanted to feel that, too.

You blame the alcohol. You also blame your own loose lips. And Jimin, you blame him too, for persuading you to go clubbing in the first place. You don't even remember what you'd said, waking up with a headache the weight and size of a tectonic plate, groaning at the pain of the morning light stabbing into your eyes, but with no recollection of your admittance that maybe you were tired of being single. Your best friend, however— despite having drunk more than you— could recall the previous night with crystalline clarity, much to your horror and embarrassment. And, because Jimin is Jimin, he'd latched onto what you'd said with the tenacity of a dog with a bone.

Fast forward to where you're sitting now, on yet another arranged date that he's planned for you— and once again, you've been stood up.

you i'm starting to wonder if any of the people you've tried to set me up with are even real

jiminnie omg they ARE you had a nice time with lisa??

Okay, so you hadn't been stood up for every date. Lisa had been the only person who'd shown up, and she was cute and friendly and you got on like a house on fire, but you'd very quickly found out that she was actually head over heels for her best friend Jennie. You being you, your first date had rapidly turned into you giving your new friend a pep-talk and hyping her up— and suffice to say you've been having weekly girl's brunches with Lisa and her now-girlfriend Jennie ever since. So, yes, technically you haven't been stood up every time, but still.

you yes, my ideal first date involves telling the other person that their best friend is definitely in love with them too :))

jiminnie I'VE ALREADY SAID THAT I'M SORRY :(

you LMAO it's fine, it's always nice to make friends but seriously minnie, like,, if your friends are going to stand me up, could you at least have had the decency to organise the date somewhere less fancy? i spent ages getting ready and noah fence it kind of feels like i just wasted a bunch of my time,,

Jimin doesn't fuck around. From the outside the bar, Dionysus, exudes a quiet aura of exclusivity. Inside, however, it has a surprisingly understated atmosphere despite its namesake being the Grecian god of Getting Turnt, the sleek interior paired with soft lighting and stylish fixtures, elegant. 

Either way, it's the kind of place that warrants you actually pulling out the stops with your outfit and makeup; you rarely have a reason to doll yourself up like this and it makes a nice change of pace, but it seems like you shouldn't have bothered. What's the point in putting on a cute dress and nice heels, or doing your hair and opening your expensive Too Faced eyeshadow palette for the first time, if you're just going to be sitting alone at a bar all night? At least you don't stick out, which is good, you guess.

You are the only person who's alone, though. It's midweek and everyone else is seated around one of the tables, couples and groups that are engaged in quiet discussion or watching the show— there's a small stage where there's a quartet performing live music— but you're perched on one of the barstools, tapping away at your phone, alone. If anyone were to pay any attention it would be obvious that you've been stood up, but they're all too busy having an enjoyable evening to spare a glance at the girl sitting by herself at the bar.

The only person who's paying attention to you is the bartender. He's clearly good at his job, keeping an eye on you and making you feel welcome without seeming like he's hovering; he doesn't act like you're being an inconvenience, but you give him a hefty tip each time you order a new drink anyway. Hoseok might not be turning up tonight but if you've gone to the effort of dressing this nicely and getting a taxi here then goddamn you're going to make the most of it.

It takes forty two minutes and three virgin cocktails before the handsome bartender speaks to you, saying something beyond the customary back and forth you've had so far as he hands you your next mocktail. 

"Are your friends usually this late?"

You let out a little huff of laughter. "Something like that." Normally you'd be more hesitant to speak to a stranger like this, but the bartender's eyes are warm and his smile seems genuine and from what you can tell, he's just making that sure you're okay. "Seems like it'll just be me for tonight."

"You're welcome to stay and wait as long as you like," he says, and you can't help but quirk a grin at him.

"I bet you say that to all the paying customers."

He laughs and raises his hands in surrender. "You got me." And then: "If you want another drink, just give me a shout. I'm Seokjin, but everyone calls me Jin."

"As in, Jin and tonic?" You smile. "Sure. I'll be sure to remember that. I'm Y/n."

"Nice to meet you, Y/n." Jin gives you a grin before disappearing down the other side of the bar to make drinks for some other customers. Your own smile slowly fades, and then turns into a frown, eyes landing on the clock on the wall; Hoseok is forty five minutes late at this point. (You know he's not going to show.) It's been so long that the musicians on the stage have finished their set and are leaving, a different performer about to step on, and you sigh. You'll finish this last drink and then you'll go.

You use your straw to stir the mint leaves and ice cubes around, muddling the flavours in your glass. You haven't really been paying attention to the music before now; you couldn't name the songs that have been performed so far, but they're common enough that you'd recognised the sound of them, the sort of music that most people could hum along to but probably wouldn't know the origin of. Easy listening. Pleasant, but nothing new. It's clearly more about setting a nice backdrop to the bar rather than music for music's sake. A background noise, rather than acting as the focal point of the bar.

You assume this is going to be the case for the next musician, and so you barely pay any mind as the he takes to the stage alone; you're looking down at your glass as he sits at the piano and puts his feet on the pedals and places his hands on the keys, but then, he starts to play.

Your eyes snap up. A chord hangs in the air, extended, haunting; a crescendo into a light melody; the chords dip, waters dark and deep while he weaves the higher notes with infinite softness, ebbing notes that fade into each other, his fingers dancing across the keys with grace and ease. You notice with a throb in your chest that he has no sheet music. He's pulling this music from inside him, his mind, entirely from his own memory.

His eyes are cast down as he watches his hands, but you can see how they slip shut whenever he tilts his head back, fringe hanging over them. His hair is bleached blond but he clearly hasn't been maintaining the look, with dark roots starting to show through. His posture is horrible, his spine a little curved as he slouches forward, and he's not dressed as sharply as the other musicians had been— there's no tie around his neck and he has a multitude of earrings in, rings on his fingers, changing his outfit into something a little messy and different and entirely unique.

He's fucking breathtaking.

Without realising, you've swivelled away from the bar to watch him. Your drink is still clutched in your hand but you pay it no mind, condensation gathering on the cold glass and dripping down your fingers the longer you sit there, ice cubes melting as he finishes his first song and moves onto the next. Same as the first, you don't recognise it, the melody echoing deep in your chest, speaking of some feeling that you can't put a name to, each sliding arpeggio and chord reaching inside you and hanging there, little glowing droplets that shine out like moonlight.

Each of his pieces are entirely different and yet they all feel like him, somehow. Strong and soft and lovely and aching. The water from your glass has pitter-pattered onto your lap, darkening the fabric of your dress in some nameless constellation, but you don't notice. Your world has narrowed down to: the sound of his music, the motions of his hands, the way he bends into the notes, him. 

Your eyes trace his profile, the cat-like eyes, the round of his nose, the pout of his lips, falling into the way he lifts his chin and tilts his head; thoughtless, gorgeous.

You don't realise that it's over until it's over. The final notes hang in the air, crystallising, and then they fade. He finishes with little fanfare, tilting a polite nod at the audience that claps for him, and then he slips off the stage and is gone just as quickly as he had come. You blink, coming back to yourself; you feel like you're rising out of deep water, motions slow and heavy, and you don't know how long you've been sitting there, entirely entranced. You'd been too distracted to clap. You'd just sat and watched in silence as he'd turned to leave, barely sparing the room a glance.

"Good, isn't he?"

Normally you would have startled at Jin's sudden appearance. Instead you just blink again, still trying to shake off the daze you've found yourself in. "Yeah." Your voice is hoarse. You clear your throat and suck in a breath and put your drink down, dripping wetness that leaves a ring on the smooth wood of the bar, and try to speak normally this time, willing your voice to be level. "Yes. He's very good."

"Yoongi is here at the same time every week," Jin supplies, tone conversational, like he's just having a regular chat. Yoongi. His name is Yoongi. You wonder if Jin can hear how your heart is pounding, the galloping hooves of a wild horse that tumble in your chest. You try to keep your expression stoic as you look at him, scared that he'll be able to read what's written across your face— but he's smiling at you in the same way as before. Just a barkeeper who's trying to get a return customer. (Although, you'd swear there was a glint in his eye for the briefest moment, but then it's gone.) "He changes the set each time, if you're interested in coming back to hear something new."

Your mouth feels dry and you swallow, trying to wet your lips. Dionysus is too fancy of a place to ask customers for tips for the musicians, but— "Can I buy him a drink?"

Jin cocks his head at you. "A drink? For Yoongi?"

"Yes," you say. You feel a little shy when you spot his expression, biting your lip. "I just really enjoyed the music, and I'd like to tip him somehow? Is that a normal thing that people do?"

Jin pauses, and then smiles. This smile is a little wider than the ones he's given you before, different, but he seems pleased. "Who cares about what's normal? I'll get a drink to him. What would you like?"

"Um, whatever he prefers," you say. You figure that Jin would have a better idea about what that is than you, which is proven true by his almost instantaneous reply.

"He likes red wine, or whisky, neat. I think tonight is a whisky kind of night." He's already going through the motions of putting the drink together, and you slide him money as he begins to pour. You know nothing about Yoongi but you can't help but feel like the drink suits him— simple, classic, masculine. "Do you want me to pass on a message for you?"

"Um, you can just say that it's from someone who enjoyed the music, I guess?" You giggle a little, feeling awkward and off balance. Jin is looking at you like he's expecting you to say something else, but you just want to express your enjoyment of Yoongi's music and nothing more. You don't— you don't want to be weird, you just like the sound of his piano playing.

Jin disappears into the back with the glass of whisky, and you finish the watery remnants of your drink before you leave, ice cubes completely melted in the— wow— forty minutes that Yoongi had been playing. It hadn't felt that long at all.

It's not until you're stepping through your front door that you realise you haven't looked at your phone since before the beginning of Yoongi's set. Jimin's messages have been changing from apologetic to concerned to downright frantic.

jiminnie Y/N BLINK TWICE IF YOU NEED HELP

you how many times should i blink if i don't need help?

jiminnie omg you're ALIVE where were you?? i was starting to get worried

you sorry i got distracted! but i'm fine, i'm at home hoseok never showed

jiminnie yeah i know :(( he messaged me saying he had an emergency and couldn't make it tonight but he's free this weekend??

you … remember when i said that this was the last blind date i was going to go on?

jiminnie it doesn't count as a date if hyung never turned up!!!

you that isn't true and you know it omg minnie… i appreciate what you're trying to do but pls bb. let it rest

jiminnie i just want you to be happy :((

you i don't have to be in a relationship to be happy

jiminnie you said you were lonely!

you omg i was DRUNK let it GO besides being stood up by multiple blind dates isn't going to help me feel less lonely lmao i get that you're happy in your relationship with kookie and you want to spread that happiness but you don't have to!! i'm fine!! yeah i get lonely sometimes but what single person doesn't?? i'm happy being by myself hhhhh

jiminnie fine :(( but if you change your mind, hobi-hyung would still love to meet you!

As you kick off your heels, humming a bar of Yoongi's music to yourself, you think that Hoseok probably shouldn't bother holding his breath.

(That night, when you sleep, you dream of dark eyes and the press of a sinfully perfect cupid's bow against your own lips, a pair of large hands drawing noises from you like a glissando, rings cool against your heated skin.)

–

Wednesday nights become a ritual of sorts. You get dressed, do your hair, match your makeup to your outfit and shoes, coordinating your look into something that doesn't look out of place in Dionysus before you hop into a taxi and make your way to the bar.

You're a firm regular by now. Your seat has become just that, your seat, the same one you'd been sitting in the first time you'd been there; it's towards the dimmer lights at the back and so you're sitting further away from the stage than you might like, but at least you can see the whole room from here. You turn up twenty minutes before Yoongi's set and Jin always greets you warmly when he sees you: you've quickly come to enjoy your chats. Jin is always unashamedly himself and the two of you joke and laugh as he works, but he always knows to leave you alone as soon as Yoongi steps onto the stage. 

For the next forty minutes the rest of the world fades away as you drink Yoongi and his music in, listen to the lilting notes he coaxes out of the piano, watch how his fingers rest on each key before he slides into his next piece, reverent.

You never ever explicitly mention Yoongi in your conversations with Jin, though. The bartender seems to bring the musician up anyway; he does it smoothly, in a way that's utterly casual, and he seems to know a surprising amount about someone who is, by all accounts, a very private person. (You're not complaining about the fact that you now know that Yoongi wears Kumamon slippers because his feet get cold easily— "he's cold blooded, like a lizard," apparently— but you do wonder how Jin knows that.)

The Yoongi that Jin describes is just as beautiful as the man you see on stage, but less mysterious, less distant— and yet he still intimidates you. 

Jin might be his friend but to you Yoongi is unapproachable. Untouchable. To him you're just a nameless face in the audience, nothing more. His eyes will slide across the room before he starts his performance, but he never seems to notice you; it's no surprise, sitting where you do, in an area of relative darkness in comparison to the rest of the bar, and once he sits down he only looks at the piano under his hands. He has no eyes for anything else. You're far enough away and his lashes are cast so low that even when his eyes are open it's hard for you to see where he's looking, and the shadow of his fringe hides how his pupils scan his hands as he plays, anyway.

Every week, when the set draws to a close, Jin is already pouring Yoongi's whisky or wine and you slide him the exact amount of change. Every week, Jin asks if you want to pass on a message, and every week, you say the same thing: that it's from someone who enjoyed the music. And that's that. Jin will disappear to give Yoongi his drink and you'll finish your own drink in quiet solitude before you slide off your barstool to go home.

(The only thing that's changed over the weeks is that the music Yoongi plays seems to be a little lighter and— dare you say— happier? He still looks down at the piano with the same intensity, still lays his hands on the keys with the same delicate pressing weight before he begins to play— but with some songs he seems to be teasing the music out, flirting with each note, eyelashes fluttering as he lifts his chin and moves his hands.

You're not a musician by any means, so you don't know how to describe it with any sort of accuracy or terminology, but to you it's like the deep waters of Yoongi's music have been cut through with light, beams of sun rippling through the dark blue. You don't know what's caused this change, the slow uplift in his mood throughout the weeks, but you hope he manages to keep hold of it, whatever it is.)

Between work and studying and volunteering and making time to see friends, you don't often have time entirely to yourself, and so Wednesday nights are a rare moment of peace during your otherwise busy week. That's why when Jimin says that he's had to rearrange your weekly film night to Wednesday— because he and Jungkook are going down to Busan to see each other's families this weekend— you decline. 

Jimin is rendered speechless and demands to know why.

"I'm busy," is your answer. Jimin doesn't buy it.

"You're never too busy for movie night," he says. "Wednesday is the only night we're all free."

"Well, I'm not free, Minnie. Sorry," you say. His head is in your lap, your fingers gently stroking his hair, and you can easily see the way his face contorts with disbelief as he stares up at you.

"Do you hear that, babe? Y/n is too busy for our weekly tradition." Jimin sounds scandalised.

Jimin is stretched out between the two of you— while his head is in your lap, his feet are in Jungkook's, the younger man idly massaging his boyfriend's ankles and feet. "Yes, babe, I heard," Jungkook says, indulgent.

"What's more important than movie night?" Jimin lifts one of his legs and Jungkook turns his attention to that one, digging his fingers into the arch of Jimin's foot. Jimin sighs in relief, but then turns the full force of his stare back at you. "We were going to watch Spirited Away. You love Spirited Away."

"I'm just busy," you say, and that had been your mistake. You should have had some sort of credible reason but you hadn't been prepared, and while he hadn't made it obvious at the time, Jimin had latched onto your vague excuse, sniffing out weakness like a shark with blood in the water. If you'd been paying attention you'd have noticed, but you hadn't paid attention and so you hadn't noticed. (Whoops.)

And so, Wednesday night that week is the same as always; Yoongi plays his music, you fall a little bit more in love, and pass your compliments to him with Jin as the mouthpiece. You go home, wash your makeup off, and arch into the touch of your own hand while imagining it's someone else's fingers sliding across your skin. Routine. Normal. Uninterrupted. Peaceful.

The next week, however, it all goes to shit.

Okay. Maybe that's a little dramatic. It's not as bad as all that. The night starts as normal: you're on your stool, and you have your drink, and you have ten minutes until Yoongi is due to play, shifting to get comfortable, crossing your legs.

But then: 

"Oh my God, you're wearing your come fuck me heels," comes Jimin's voice from behind you, and your blood turns to ice.

You turn on the barstool so fast you almost fall off it. You come face to face with Jimin who has an expression of what can only be described as sheer delight on his face. He's even dressed appropriately for the bar, a silk shirt tucked into his Very Tight jeans and a subtle smoky eye to top it off; Jungkook looks nice, too, but you have no doubt that he's only here under sufferance, if the infinitely apologetic look on his face is anything to go by.

"Jimin?" Your voice comes out as a hiss. If you were a cat your back would be up and your hackles would be raised and all your fur would be on end, your entire body going into fight mode. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to see for myself what was more important than movie night," Jimin says simply, like it's obvious. "So here we are."

"Sorry, Y/n," Jungkook apologises from over his boyfriend's shoulder. Jimin ignores him.

You can feel how your face is starting to flush, your skin crawling with embarrassment. You change your outfit every week and your friends have managed to turn up on the one week where you've cycled into what could probably be considered your most promiscuous one, the hem of your dress high and the cut of it low, along with shoes that Jimin had rightfully named as your Come Fuck Me heels. It wasn't because you were trying to seduce anyone but you only have so many items in your wardrobe that are appropriate for Dionysus. 

"How did you find me?"

"I have my ways," Jimin says mysteriously.

"He stalked your Bitmoji on Snapchat. Ow." Jungkook pouts as Jimin slaps his arm. "Sorry, again. I said we should leave you alone but Jimin said we should check in case you'd been kidnapped because you never willingly go into bars."

You're interrupted by Jin, who'd been busy serving someone when your idiot friends had turned up; he leans across the bar and touches your shoulder and fixes Jimin and Jungkook with the most intimidating look you've ever seen on his face. You know Jin as a light-hearted pun master, harmless and goofy and approachable, a great friend— but right now he looks like some sort of beautiful guardian angel, broad shouldered and narrow eyed and honestly, pretty menacing. 

"Are you alright?" He keeps his eyes on the other two men as he speaks. "Are these guys bothering you?"

Jimin, rather than looking cowed, looks like he's reached a stage of absolute euphoria, eyes darting between Jin's hand on your shoulder to your face. Jungkook's face, meanwhile, is doing that thing it does whenever someone issues him some kind of challenge, his sweetness abruptly being swallowed by his competitive side and his stubborn refusal to lose anything. You're the only person who has the power to save this situation before it goes absolutely tits up, and you swallow down a resigned sigh.

"I'm fine, thank you, Jin," you say, looking at him with a smile as you pat the hand on your shoulder. "Unfortunately these guys are my friends, much to my infinite suffering. Well, Jungkook's alright. Jimin is the one who's the pain."

"Hey," Jimin whines. Jungkook looks quietly pleased, but pretends to scowl when Jimin looks at him, offended on his boyfriend's behalf.

Jin still seems unhappy but pulls his hand back. "Alright," he says, but then he pitches his voice low so that only you can hear: "If you need any help, just ask me for a rum and soda, okay?"

You always order mocktails whenever you're here, wanting to stay completely sober so that you can enjoy Yoongi's playing with all the attention it deserves. You've never asked for anything alcoholic, least of all a rum and soda. Although you really are okay, you can't help but be warmed by Jin's concern for you and how he's offering you this careful, considerate lifeline in case you need it. "I will do. Thanks, Jinnie."

He smiles at you and then gives Jungkook and Jimin one final frown before going to deal with a gaggle of customers who've gathered at the other end of the bar. While Jungkook remains standing, taking in the interior of the bar with wide eyes, Jimin slides onto the stool next to yours.

"He's fucking hot," Jimin says with no preamble, eyeing Jin without shame as the bartender starts to pour and mix different drinks. Jungkook makes a disgruntled noise but settles when Jimin pats him fondly on the butt. "I'm not surprised you're wearing those heels. I would too if I were you."

"Oh my God, Jimin." You hide your face in your hands. "Jin is just a friend, please don't make this weird."

"Come on, Y/n, it's okay," Jimin says reassuringly as he pats your shoulder, replacing Jin's touch with his own. "The blind dates might not have worked out, but you've met someone nice so that's good! I mean, you did meet him because I organised the date here in the first place, but I'll let that slide. Also I can't believe you missed movie night because of a boy and you didn't tell me, but I'll let that slide too because I love you."

Park Jimin is your best friend. Park Jimin meddles in your life despite your protestations and isn't beyond being passive aggressive to get his way, but Park Jimin is also one of the nicest people you know and everything he does is because he loves you and will do whatever he thinks is necessary to reach his end goal of making you happy. He's magnanimous and kind and caring, and he also has absolutely the wrong idea right now, clearly under the impression that you're attracted to Seokjin and have been flirting with him for however many weeks it's been since you were meant to meet Hoseok here.

"No, seriously, Jimin, it's not Jin." You look at Jimin through the gaps in your fingers. "He's cute, yeah, but I don't come here because of him."

Your friend looks genuinely baffled, hand stilling on your shoulder. "Then why are you here?"

And, with perfect timing— as if your life is some badly written film or romantic drama— the clock ticks over to 8pm and Yoongi steps onto the stage. His hair is dark, blond replaced with black a few weeks ago, though it's still long enough that it hangs in his eyes; he looks a little ragged around the edges, a little messy, a little tired, and altogether beautiful. You want to touch the coolness of your fingertips to the dark circles under his eyes, want to press kisses across each of his bony knuckles, want to let your tongue settle in the hollow of his neck that shows each time he leans back and tilts his head up just so.

You hadn't even meant to but you'd turned away from Jimin the second you'd heard piano notes begin to play, drawn in by the sound like a moth to a flame. Jimin's hand falls off your shoulder and you hear him breathe out a quiet oh of realisation. You tear your eyes away from the sight of Yoongi at the piano and turn on your stool to face the bar again, gripping your glass with both hands, shoulders hunched.

"I like to watch him play," you say, and your voice is near a whisper, so as not to detract from the music.

"It's beautiful," Jungkook says, speaking before Jimin can say anything. His voice is quiet, too, not wanting to break over the sound of the piano. 

And so you hear with absolute clarity as Yoongi shifts mid-song into something different and it startles you. Yoongi always varies his music, always has something new, but you've been here often enough that you had recognised the opening song— it was one of your favourites— and you know that he's cut himself off before finishing, soft melody jumping into the opening bars of something different, sharper, a little angry, maybe sorrowful. Something that pulls at you and demands your attention.

Of course you give it to him. You swing your head away from your drink to watch him once more, watch how his motions have changed, the way he surges forward and presses his weight into his arms and down into his hands, his fingertips, the keys. You turn your entire body at this point, settling in your usual position for when you watch Yoongi; you see how his head tilts and he shifts from a minor into a major key, the same notes and chords transformed from something pensive into something joyful as he leans away from the heavier hands he'd been forcing the keys down with.

"How long does this go on for?" Jimin asks.

"About thirty or forty minutes," you answer. Though you turn your head back over your shoulder so that Jimin can hear you, you keep your eyes fixed on Yoongi. It's probably entirely coincidental, the sudden change in his music coinciding with when you turned away from him and when you looked back. He's not playing for you, he's playing for the whole bar, and besides, he's been looking down at the piano the whole time. He hasn't been looking at you.

And yet. The idea that Yoongi has noticed you and wants you to watch him has something hot settling low in your belly.

Jimin leans forward so that his chin is on your shoulder, talking directly into your ear as his hands wrap around your waist from behind. "This is the guy?"

Yoongi finishes the song and you watch in captivation as he swallows and runs a hand through his hair before he starts the next one. He's never done that before. Fuck. "Yes. Yoongi's the guy."

"Do you wait until he's finished so you can speak with him?" Jimin asks, ever curious.

You pause. "No," you admit. "No, I've never actually spoken to him."

Jimin doesn't ask why you've been coming back to see a guy you don't know and haven't talked to. He just hums gently. Jimin is pushy but he's also understanding and empathetic and knows what to say, when to press forward and when to hold back. It's one of the reasons you love him so much.

Jimin lapses into silence as Yoongi starts the next piece. It's one you haven't heard before and it's a little fiercer than most of Yoongi's recent songs. Rather than each note sliding into the next, he hammers them out separately, each note a statement that builds into something larger, a provocation. A storm gathering above Yoongi's waters, threatening to pull you in, pull you under.

Behind you, you hear Jungkook and Jimin briefly murmuring to each other, then Jimin's hands slide from off your waist and you hear the sound of him shifting so that Jungkook can sit down, Jimin using his boyfriend's lap as a chair instead. You have to wonder if the barstools can actually support that kind of weight, but Jin doesn't come over to tell them off, so you figure it must be okay.

On stage, Yoongi's hands pause, an uncharacteristic caesura that breaks the flow of the notes he'd been stringing together before he resumes playing as if this hiccup had never occurred. To anyone else, it would sound like that break was meant to be there, but you know better. You know Yoongi had faltered.

No way.

No way?

He's paying attention to you.

(Oh, shit.)

No way.

You're suddenly so overwhelmed that you actually feel nauseous. You've been consumed with thoughts of Yoongi for weeks, had images of him playing you just as easily as he does that piano, thoughts of him laying you out bare beneath him, but the idea that Yoongi actually knows who you are? Is aware of you on some level? Wants your eyes on him?

Fuck. 

It's too much. 

You're already off kilter from Jimin and Jungkook's arrival— as harmless as their appearance was meant to be— and this is the cherry on top. You don't know if you can keep your composure right now and you need to get away from Yoongi before you end up walking onto the stage and pulling him off that stupid piano stool to show him exactly how much you enjoy his music.

"Jimin? Jungkook? How about you say we go to a club and get absolutely shitfaced?"

You haven't looked away from Yoongi in the time that you've said this, but you can just feel the confusion emanating from the men behind you.

"But you—"

"I thought—"

"We're already dressed up, aren't we? Besides, I still owe you for film night, so drinks are on me."

There's little argument from them after that. For the first time since you've been coming here you leave before Yoongi's set is done, slipping out of the bar without noticing Jin's confused gaze on you. 

It's not until much later, once you've drunkenly fallen onto Jimin and Jungkook's couch, that the sober part of your brain whispers to you: you didn't buy Yoongi his drink.

(That night you dream of stormy skies and tattered sails and a capsizing ship. Once you wake, the memory of the dream quickly leaves you, and the last thing you remember is the sight of someone reaching towards you, pulling you out of the water, skin pale and head ringed with blond hair, a halo— and then you forget that too, slipping through your fingers like quicksand.)

–

Of course you go back to Dionysus the next week. You make Jimin promise that he won't turn up without warning again, and then you make Jungkook promise that he'll at least send you a heads-up message if Jimin changes his mind. Despite both these promises, after the debacle last week with your outfit, you've actually bought new clothes, so at least today you don't feel as scandalous. (You still look hot, though.)

You're grateful when Jin doesn't press you for details or ask why you left early last week. He just greets you like he normally does and predicts your order with his usual aptitude, and as you stir your drink with your straw, you have to wonder at what happened. You're probably overreacting, overthinking things, grasping at nothing; there is not a chance in hell that Min Yoongi, reclusive piano savant, has noticed you. No way. Nuh-uh.

He's probably only aware of your existence because of the repeated drinks you've had Jin foist on him. If anything he's probably annoyed at you after not tipping him with last week— he's probably come to expect them by now and you'd forced him to miss out. Maybe you'll get Jin to give him two drinks this week? Ooh, then again, maybe not. Is two shots of whisky a lot? People drink doubles, don't they. How strong is the wine he likes, anyway?

Yoongi's appearance on stage pulls you out of your thoughts. He makes his way up the steps, towards the piano, scans the room— and then for the first time since you've been coming here to watch him, he stops.

He stops because he's looking at you.

It's only for the briefest moment, eyes resting on you for maybe five seconds, and then you breathlessly watch as his mouth twists into something that can only be described as a smirk, pleased at the sight of you.

Oh, God.

He looks away and sits at the piano like he normally does, but you would swear that his back is a little straighter— something in his posture that reads as cockiness, even. He launches into a song that starts light but then almost immediately dances into something flirtatious, seductive, and tonight whenever Yoongi glances at you, he makes sure that you know. He turns his head just so, looks at you through the curve of his lashes, each touch of those dark eyes against your own sending little shivers through you, punching the breath out of your lungs.

You've always been entranced by Yoongi and tonight is no different. The minutes slide by as easy as water, liquid, music gliding over you like the rising tide, kissing your skin like the ebb and flow of the waves. It feels like he's barely started when his set is over and he's finished, standing up with as little ostentation as always before he vanishes off the stage.

You already have the money counted out before Jin has made his way over. You slide it towards him as he pours the whisky, but rather than asking if you have a message to pass to Yoongi, a look of consternation passes over his face.

"The price has gone up," Jin says, and you blink.

"Oh, that's no problem. How much is it now?" You're reaching for your purse to get more money out when Jin puts the whisky on the bar in front of you.

"No, don't worry, I'll just go out back and get the right change for you," he says. He says it with such confidence that it takes you a beat too long to realise that what he's just said makes no sense— why is he getting you change if you haven't even given him enough money? Isn’t there change in the till?— but by this point he's already gone, the staff door swinging shut behind him. 

You tilt your head, beyond confused.

Someone chuckles from behind you, the sound quiet and low. "Ah, cute."

You twist in your seat to see who's talking and then freeze. Yoongi is standing right there, looking at you with his dark, dark eyes; it's the first time you've been subjected to the full intensity of his gaze, from this close, and your pulse picks up. He looks a little softer without the lights of the small stage throwing him into sharp relief but his aura is just as intense; your eyes dart across each feature of his face as you drink him in— the mess of his fringe hanging into his sharp eyes, the faintest freckle on his nose, his surprisingly cute cheeks, his pink mouth.

The mouth that's curving into a sly little smile, now, your eyes flying back up to meet his own.

"I'm guessing this is for me?" He points at the whisky. He takes it before you can answer, and there's something unfairly erotic about how he drinks it: the way he holds the glass, swirling the whisky over the chilled rocks inside; the way his mouth falls open as the tumbler touches his lips; the way his head tilts back as he lets the liquor flow into his mouth, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.

You shamelessly watch him the whole time. He lowers the glass from his lips, still a little parted as he takes a breath in, and then he's looking back at you. You have to bite back a noise that's risen up in your throat, unbidden. Does he know how much he affects you? 

You adjust your position on the barstool, thoughtlessly uncrossing and recrossing your legs as you regain your balance. Yoongi's eyes fly down to watch the motion and you're close enough to him that you see how his pupils dilate at the movement. A breath escapes your mouth, a little pant of air that you desperately mask as a cough as you try to calm the racing of your heart, the flood of arousal that's pulsing through you.

"I'm glad you like the whisky," you say, your voice steady despite how your legs feel like they're about to give out. (Thank god you're sitting down.) "I'm sorry to have deprived you of it last week."

Yoongi's shifted so that he's leaning against the bar. He's standing while you're still sitting and you have to tilt your head back to look at him. "You did seem like you were in an awful hurry," he says, a teasing lilt to his tone, and yet his voice is still so low, deeper than you'd imagined.

Despite the levity in his words there's something heavy in his gaze. "Oh?" You can't help but react to it, helpless and unable to resist. "You noticed me leaving?"

Yoongi's eyes sharpen. Hooked. "Of course," he says. "You're the only thing I pay attention to when I'm here. You have been from the first night you walked in."

Your breath catches in your throat. You hadn't expected Yoongi to say something so forthright, to be so direct, more used to coy flirtation from the other people you've met in the past; it's like you've been dipped in cold water, a shock to the system, bracing and invigorating and refreshing.

"Oh," you say, at a loss with how to respond. Yoongi seems pleased to have gotten this reaction out of you, the corners of his lips curving upwards in a self satisfied smile.

"Besides," he adds, "I find it flattering that not only do you come here every week to watch me, you always make sure to make your appreciation known, too." He lifts the glass up and takes another drink, but this time he keeps his eyes locked on yours as he does, gaze unwavering as he finishes his drink. The rocks tumble over themselves as he sets the glass down on the bar, lower lip wet with a drop of whisky that lingers; his tongue sweeps across it and leaves a sheen, catching the light, shining. You can't tear your eyes away from the sight. "It would have been hard to ignore that even if I'd wanted to."

A shiver trickles down your spine. You'd really only ever meant it as a compliment, a quiet way to express your admiration about his craft, and you have to ask— "How long have you been playing the piano?"

This question seems to throw Yoongi off kilter. You see the way his lashes flutter as he blinks with surprise. "For as long as I can remember," he says, and then a small smile appears on his lips. "When I was young I had a toy piano that I constantly used to hammer at, so when I grew up a little, my parents bought the real thing so that I could learn how to play."

He sounds nostalgic and your heart squeezes in your chest. "You're self-taught, right?" You ask, remembering something Jin had told you before. 

Yoongi looks briefly startled. "Yes, I am," he says, and then his eyes narrow. "Did Jin tell you that?"

"Um, yeah." You squirm a little on the barstool. "Sorry, should I not have said anything about it?"

"No, no, you're okay. It's just that Jin says a lot of things, and I'm just wondering what else he said to you." Yoongi's tone is weirdly pained.

The concern is obvious on his face, and you wonder if Jin is to Yoongi what Jimin is to you— well-meaning but maybe a little overwhelming in their approach. 

"All good things, I promise. I love dogs, too." You smile up at Yoongi, who seems a little taken aback, and the smile starts to drop off your face. "Um. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." For all that Yoongi was smirking earlier, he seems a little unsure now. You feel confused, waiting as Yoongi clearly turns some thoughts over in his head, and then he says: "What exactly has Jin told you?"

You smile. You recognise that tone, the nonchalance that hides a little worry— it's exactly how you sound whenever you find out that Jimin has been speaking to someone about you, even if it's always positively. "Oh, just bits and pieces," you say. Feeling bold, you pat the barstool next to you, tilting your head invitingly. "Why don't you tell me about yourself instead so we can see if Jin was lying to me?"

Yoongi looks genuinely startled, his eyes widening imperceptibly before the expression wipes off his face as if nothing had happened. "Why not," he says, as if in equal parts to himself and to you, before he takes a seat.

Here's what you learn about Yoongi: he's intense, yes, and soft spoken, but as you continue to talk, he begins to loosen up, bit by bit. When he laughs he smiles so wide that his eyes squeeze shut and you can see his gums and you're so fucking endeared at the sight. He's sharp and smart and witty and just so, so intriguing. 

You prop your elbow on the bar and rest your cheek in your hand as he talks, wanting to take everything in, and you rapidly realise that Min Yoongi is less of an enigma than you'd thought, but just as complex as you'd expected— and you want to unravel that complexity. If he'll let you.

You've been talking for so long that the bar has started to empty out, patrons trickling away, the two of you so engrossed with each other that you barely notice. You find out that Jin and Yoongi are actually roommates, best friends, and that Jin is as chaotic as you'd expect and is also very good at drawing Yoongi into his shenanigans; you throw your head back to laugh at one of his stories, and when you catch your breath you find Yoongi looking at you, watching you with an expression on his face that makes you pause. He's been watching you intently all night, listening quietly whenever you talk, but this expression, this is new. He swallows.

"Can I ask something?"

You blink. "Sure, go ahead."

"Why did you keep coming back?" Yoongi asks, and that's not a question you'd been expecting at all.

"Uh," you say eloquently. "Well. Honestly? I couldn't stay away, I guess. I'm not really a musician, and I don't know a lot about the piano, but there's something in your music and the way you play— every song makes me feel something different and new, or reminds me of something I haven't felt, places I haven't been to, but I feel like I know somehow. Like I'm nostalgic for something that I haven't experienced, that doesn't exist. It's almost like you're taking my hand and showing me around some hidden part of the world that only you can see— like you've made it into music because that's the only way you can communicate it. How could I not come back after that?" You pause. "Um. Does that make sense? I feel like it didn't. Sorry?"

Yoongi's been watching you as you've been talking, silent, and by the time you've finished his mouth has fallen open a little. He stares at you for a few moments longer, and then he says: "Holy shit." And then he says: "Oh my God." And then he says: "What the fuck."

"… I guess it didn't make sense, then?" Despite the ease of your earlier conversation you suddenly feel awkward, laughing a little as your legs uncross so that you can shuffle to the edge of your barstool. Ready to hop up and make a quick get away if you need to. Run away from the embarrassment. "Um."

"Y/n," Yoongi says, and you realise with a start that you haven't introduced yourself to him throughout your whole conversation— Jin must have told him your name— but then he keeps talking. "I thought you just— I don't know, that you just kept coming back because of me. Not the music. Then Jin kept talking about you and—" 

He makes a frustrated noise at the back of his throat and runs a hand through his hair; you stare at his bared forehead, and it says about how attracted you are to him that the sight of his forehead is enough to set your heart racing. "I thought that maybe if I let this happen just one time that it would be enough, but now I don't think it will."

"Yoongi." You're confused, unsure if you've correctly understood what he's just said. "Let what happen one time? What are you talking about?"

"Touching you," Yoongi says. "Fucking you." His voice is a rasp and the sound of it, the sound of his words, shoots straight through you and into your core. "I thought the drinks were— I don't know, an invitation. But they weren't, were they? You really meant it. You really like my music. And me."

Yoongi's voice is hoarse and you come to the realisation that he feels tense. Like he can accept that you want to have sex with him, but he's bowled over by the idea that you're attracted to the other parts, too, as few of those as you know. That you genuinely enjoy what he plays. That you think it's the most beautiful sound you've ever heard.

"Yoongi," you say, tone deceptively gentle. "I really, really like your music, and I think you're an incredibly talented musician, and I've been memorising everything Jin's been telling me about you because I think you're one of the most interesting people I've ever come across and I'd really like to get to know more about you. So I'm really glad to have had the opportunity to talk to you like this." You gesture between the two of you, sitting as you are, facing towards each other on your barstools. And then you brace yourself to take the leap, to throw yourself into uncharted waters. "However, I am also insanely attracted to you and I've spent the past I-don't-know-how-many weeks picturing you bending me over that piano and fucking me so hard that I can't walk straight."

Yoongi freezes in the middle of rubbing the back of his neck, a clearly nervous habit. Though your voice has kept steady while you've been talking, your heart has been thrumming in your chest the whole time, feeling as nervous as Yoongi looks. Something flickers across his face, and his hand drops away from his neck as he straightens, pushing himself off from where he's been leaning against the bar.

"Oh?" He leans towards you. Your legs unthinkingly part as he moves, the material of your dress hitching up as you spread your knees so that he can get closer. "So you do want me to fuck you?"

His nervousness seems to be entirely gone, emboldened by your words. One of his hands comes up to cup the back of your head, fingers sliding into your hair as he holds you in place, at his mercy. He's barely touched you but the feeling of contact makes you bite back a whimper. Even though it's darker here and you're away from the tables, away from the few remaining patrons of the bar, the two of you are in plain sight even under the dimmed lights; you're not doing anything illicit or inappropriate but a little thrill trickles down your spine at the idea.

"Yoongi," you breathe.

"What is it, babygirl?" He tips his head down as he moves closer, his nose brushing yours, each of his words a warm curl across your lips. "Tell me."

The pet name sends a shiver through you. Your hands rise from your lap, sliding over his chest to touch lightly at his neck, a little shy, a little bold. "I want you to kiss me."

"Oh?" Yoongi's mouth is so close to yours, and when you tilt forward to kiss him, he stays just out of your reach, leaving you wanting. "You think you deserve a kiss, do you?"

You can't help but make a little noise, a petulant whine at the back of your throat. He has you entirely at his mercy and he knows it. "Please," you say. "Please, Yoongi, wanna kiss you so bad."

The smile he gives you in reply is wicked. "How can I say no when you've asked so politely?"

Yoongi finally, finally dips his head down and then he's kissing you with such intensity it steals the breath out of you. It's open-mouthed and wet and dirty, his tongue sliding into your mouth in between taking your top and bottom lips between his own, alternating, sucking on them and lapping at them with his tongue. You chase after his mouth with your own, roll your tongues together, hands sliding over the smooth skin of his throat as they circle behind his neck, but then Yoongi pulls away; you bite that needy whine back again, kiss cut short far sooner than you would have liked.

Yoongi is taking the sight of you in, eyes lingering on your shining lips, and then he's rising to stand. You're shaken out of your kiss-induced haze when he does, a little confused, but he takes your hand in his and you let him lift up, pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to the back of your knuckles.

"Do you want to get out of here?" His voice is pitched low, deep with a promise of pleasure to come, and you shiver.

"God, I thought you'd never ask," you say in a rush, and he just laughs quietly at your obvious desperation.

"Come on, then." He helps you off the barstool, your hand still in his— god, his hands are so big and his touch is so warm. His eyes are dark as he watches the way you reach to rearrange the hem of your dress with your free hand, but he beats you to it, palm flattening the material against your legs; his fingers dance just under the edge as he straightens it, hand sliding over the skin of your inner thigh and lingering before he pulls away.

"You're shameless," you say, a little breathless, and Yoongi just smirks at you. Tease.

Your fingers remain tangled with his as he leads you behind the bar and through the staff door. Jin's out back, scrolling through something on his phone, but as soon as you walk in he abandons whatever he's doing and raises his eyebrows. He looks surprisingly severe. "Customers aren't allowed back here."

Your eyes widen, but then Jin's serious expression cracks and he starts to laugh. Although he's joking and clearly doesn't care, you feel a little guilty at breaking the rules and duck behind Yoongi, shy. Yoongi snorts and holds a middle finger up at the bartender.

Jin gasps theatrically, clutching his chest while looking askance. "I raise you from birth and this is the thanks I get?"

"You're one year older than me, hyung."

"I carry you in my womb for nine months and birth you into this world and you— oh, okay, you technically shouldn't be doing that either," Jin says, stopping mid-sentence as Yoongi decides his hyung has been talking for too long and turns away from him to start kissing you again, shameless as he tugs you close to him and licks into your mouth; you immediately fall back into him, unable to resist. "Jesus Christ, Yoongi."

Once you part, you bury your head into Yoongi's chest as his arms come around you, hiding your embarrassment in Yoongi's dress shirt. "Sorry, Jinnie," you say, muffled.

"You are absolutely not to blame here, Y/n, you are an angel and a sweetheart." Jin's tone is soothing. "Yoongi, however, is a tiny evil gremlin who needs to learn how to control himself. Though I can't blame him, you are very cute."

"Hyung, I need the apartment tonight," Yoongi says without preamble. You wriggle in the circle of his arms. You're not normally this timid but Yoongi is just so direct and blasé with Jin that you can't help but feel a little shy, as hot and bothered as you are.

"I'll crash at Joon's," the bartender says. He’s obviously not surprised. You lift your head from Yoongi's chest to look at Jin and find that he's smiling at you. "If Yoongi starts to bother you, just whap him on the nose. I find a rolled up newspaper works best if you have one to hand."

"I'll kill you, Kim Seokjin," Yoongi says.

Jin just laughs as he waves the two of you off and you take the initiative to start pulling Yoongi towards the back door. He comes easily, but once the door has swung shut behind you he takes the lead again and guides you towards his car. He lets go of your hand so that he can unlock it, swinging the passenger door open for you, and he's unabashed in how he watches you step in and eyes the way your dress hitches up again as you slide into your seat; he leans against the car and just stares at you.

There's honestly nothing sexier when someone clearly wants you as much as you want them. It makes you feel bold, drunk on the way he looks at you. 

You glance up at him through your lashes. "The sooner we get to yours, the sooner you can have me," you say.

Yoongi curses under his breath. "You're going to be the death of me."

Surprisingly enough, though, he keeps his hands to himself when he gets behind the wheel. You can't help but feel a little surprised; you don't know how close Yoongi's home is to the bar, but you very rapidly tire of waiting to feel his hands on you again and so you lean over the centre console and press a fleeting kiss just behind his ear.

Yoongi doesn't outwardly react, continuing to stare at the road, so you take this as a challenge. You slide one of your hands onto his thigh— for balance, of course— and kiss behind his ear again, tug his lobe with your teeth, mindful of his piercings, and then proceed to trail little kisses down his neck and the little slither of his collarbone that you can reach without his shirt getting in the way. You finally get to lick your tongue in the hollow of his neck that you've been thinking about for weeks.

Yoongi's hands tighten on the steering wheel. Jackpot. 

"Y/n," he says, voice low, and you're so close to his throat that you can hear the rumble behind his words. You love it. "You should stop now, or we're not going to make it to my apartment."

You go still. Yoongi continues to look at the road but his knuckles are white with how hard he's gripping the wheel, and when you glance down you can see how much you've affected him, cock hardening in his slacks. It would be so easy to slide your hand up his thigh and finally touch him, have him pull over and wreck you, but you want something more than a quick fumble in the seat of a car. 

So you just press your lips lightly against the line of his jaw one last time. You let yourself breathe in the dark scent of his cologne— pinewood and pepper and something deeper— before you pull back, folding your hands in your lap demurely, trying to force yourself to be content with waiting.

"Good girl," Yoongi says. You can't help but preen; you don't normally respond to praise like this, but something about Yoongi just makes you want to please him, hear him compliment you again. Yoongi glances at you, a little flicker of realisation as he sees how you've just reacted to his words, and his eyes darken. "You like that, baby? Like being a good girl for me?"

Fuck. "Yes." Your pulse is rising. You've been craving Yoongi for weeks, but god, if he asked you to go home right now, sent you home without touching you, you'd go, just to hear him call you a good girl again. But you don't want him to leave you untouched, you don't want that at all. "I want you to touch me, Yoongi," you say. "I'll be a good girl, please just touch me."

"Fuck." Yoongi's foot presses down on the accelerator. He's never wanted to live closer to the bar before, but the sight of you staring at him from his passenger seat and rubbing your thighs together in a desperate attempt to give yourself some relief is making him rethink his housing location. "I will, baby. We'll be there soon."

Soon turns out to be less than five minutes, scarcely any time at all, though each second is torturous in how long it feels. Yoongi's careless in how he parks the car, wonky within the lines of his spot, but neither of you notice or care. You fumble with the buckle of your belt, climbing out of the car as quickly as you can and slamming the door shut with more power than you probably need to, noise loud in the quiet of the night.

Before you can react, however, Yoongi is rounding the car and grabbing you, pressing you against the metal and glass of the door. One of his hands slips under your thigh, lifting your leg and shoving the hem of your dress out of the way so that he can grind against you; you gasp at the feeling of his growing hardness against the dampness of your underwear, and Yoongi leans forward to swallow the sound into his mouth. 

The kiss is rushed and desperate, but you love the messiness of it. Yoongi pulls away to press his lips against the side of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw, your neck, mouthing at the jumping pulse he finds there. You start to make small ah-ah noises when he laves his tongue over it, one of your hands tangling in his hair as you tilt your head back, each of his touches fizzing like electricity on your skin.

"P-people could see," you stutter, struggling to catch your breath with how good his mouth feels on you.

Yoongi smirks against your skin. "I thought you wanted me to touch you," he says, but immediately relents, pulling away from you so he can lead you into the building. You miss the heat of his body against yours but he keeps hold of your hand as you follow him; it's late and the building seems quiet, so you're mindful of just how loud your high heels sound as they clack on the floor, though Yoongi doesn't seem to care.

When you step into the apartment you reach down for the straps on your shoes so you can kick them off but Yoongi stops you with a hand to your shoulder. It's a light touch but you stop immediately, glancing up from your feet to his face.

"Let me," he says, and a hot trickle of arousal runs down your spine at the tone of his voice. 

You straighten up and watch as Yoongi gets down on one knee, hands circling around your ankle and lifting your foot. You rest the toe of your shoe lightly on Yoongi's knee, watching as he undoes the strap around your ankle and slides the shoe off, setting it to one side, before he presses his lips to the inside of your knee. You shiver at the light touch and Yoongi smirks, letting your ankle go so you can move and he can take your other shoe off, too.

He barely takes his eyes off your face the whole time, only glancing down when he has to. His motions are slow and unhurried despite his earlier rush, carefully setting the second shoe next to the first, and you can't help but feel like he's teasing you— drawing out your reactions just because he can. Before you can say anything about it, though, his hands trail up from your calves to your thigh before he hitches your leg over his shoulder, one hand staying on your thigh as the other grips at your hip.

You bite back a gasp. From his angle Yoongi can see everything and he's looking up with hooded eyes, staring at the dark patch on your underwear, wet for him; his gaze trails across the lace of the lingerie you're wearing, the small colourful flowers blooming across the dark material. It was something you'd put on to complete your outfit, the matching panties and bra making you feel expensive and pretty— even if you hadn't expected anyone to see it.

"Look at you," he says, hand lowering from your hip to trace lightly across your slit; it's a barely-there touch, sensation dulled by the material in the way, but you still jolt at the feeling of it. "Did you wear this for me?"

"Of course," you confess. You've wanted his eyes on you for so long. "Always dress up pretty for you."

"Fuck." He sounds reverent. "You've always been such a good girl for me, haven't you?"

A needy noise rises unbidden at the back of your throat when Yoongi spreads your leg wider and leans forward to mouth at you through the lace of your panties. Your knees go weak and you have to lean back against the wall for balance, grateful at how close you are to it when Yoongi draws his tongue upwards, wetting the fabric, your toes curling.

"Yoongi." One of your hands is resting in his hair and you can't stop your grip from tightening. "Yoongi, please."

He gives you what you want, fingers hooking into your underwear and pulling it down; he lets your leg drop so that you can step out of them, but as soon as you've finished he throws the panties to one side, one hand splaying across your stomach as the other lifts your leg again so that you’re spread open for him, immediately pressing his mouth to your clit.

"Oh!" You gasp. Yoongi seems to have tired of his teasing and is eating you out like a man starved, the slick sound of his tongue and lips filling the apartment as he laves attention on your dripping pussy, staring up at you as he drinks your reactions in. He dips his tongue into you and your hips try to buck forwards but the hand on your stomach holds you in place, firm, and you let out an embarrassingly loud keen at how good it feels to be this powerless.

You slap your free hand across your mouth and try to swallow the noise down. Yoongi frowns and stops, leaning his head back as he looks at you; his mouth is shining with evidence of your arousal, opalescent. "I want to hear you."

You bite your lip, forcing your hand away from your mouth; you don't want to be too loud, too noisy, but you want to be a good girl for Yoongi. He wants to hear you so you'll give him what he wants.

"O-okay," you breathe, and Yoongi smirks up at you; it's filthy, how he's looking at you like that while his lips are wet with you. You tilt your hips towards him, desperate to have his mouth on you again, and he immediately complies.

He's lapping at your clit when the hand on your stomach moves and slides down. You watch as he takes his tongue off you so that he can curl it around his fingers instead, before running those fingers across your lower lips to gather the slick there, wetting them even further. You roll your hips into the sensation, loving the press of his slightly rough fingers against your silken folds, wanting more, eyes wide as you watch how Yoongi's hand trails between your legs.

He puts his mouth back on your clit at the same time as he presses one of those spit slick fingers into you. You're so turned on that the initial slide in is easy, but he still takes his time; he's distracting you with the way he's sucking at your small bundle of nerves but you still feel when he presses his second finger in, longer than yours, the sensation of it even better than you'd dreamed.

He crooks his fingers and you throw your head back against the wall, dull thud barely registering over the sensation of Yoongi inside you. He sees how you react and continues to move his fingers in the same way, thrusting his fingers in and curling them as he pulls out, watching as you writhe; the pleasure inside you has been growing, the feeling building, and if Yoongi keeps doing that then you're going to cum. "I'm close," you gasp.

Yoongi responds to this by pushing a third finger inside you, rubbing his fingertips directly over your sweet spot. The stretch burns, just a little, but God, you love it. He purses his lips over your clit and flicks his tongue over it at the same time as he curls his fingers again and it undoes you; your spine arches away from the wall as you cum, ripples of pleasure sparking through your body as you tighten around Yoongi's fingers, sobbing almost deliriously at how good it feels.

Yoongi watches you the whole time, keeps his mouth on you as you ride out your high. He only moves away when you start to jolt from oversensitivity, pulling his fingers out carefully as he does. You feel empty without them inside you and you can't wait for him to fill you up with something better instead.

Yoongi holds you steady, his grip firm as you slip your leg from his shoulder and shakily push yourself off the wall. Once you've gotten your balance he stands up— his knees must hurt but he doesn't complain, too busy watching you lift his fingers to your lips, sucking them into your mouth so you can lick the taste of yourself off him.

"Jesus Christ." Yoongi stares at the way you flick your tongue across his skin, glancing at him coquettishly through your lashes. You reach out for him, hands moving towards his belt, but he shakes his head. "Bedroom," he says.

Of course you follow him. At any other time you'd be taking in the details of the apartment, the glimpses you get into the other rooms, but you're too busy looking at Yoongi to have a mind for anything else. He's been hard for so long by now that it must be driving him crazy and you want to give him what he wants. What he needs.

He swings a door open and flicks a light on. Yoongi's room is what you'd expected: neat and organised, with dark furnishings, the only mess being a few scrunched up balls of paper that have overflowed the trash-bin by his desk, which has a pile of notepads next to his laptop and a set up of musical equipment that looks far too complex for you to make heads or tails of. 

You forget about this instantly, however, when Yoongi captures your lips in another kiss, a hand splaying across your jaw so that he can control the pace, crowding you towards the bed until the back of your knees make contact with it and you fall onto the mattress. Yoongi cages you in with his arms and keeps kissing you, though when you palm him through his slacks he hisses through his teeth.

"Want you, Yoongi." You use your hand to stroke over the hardness of him as you nip at his lower lip. "Please."

"Fuck, of course, babygirl." Yoongi leans back and you move with him, sitting up as he stands straight. He unbuttons his shirt and you help him slide it off his shoulders, using it as an excuse to run your hands over the pale skin he reveals to you, sliding your palms down his chest and over his stomach; you dip your head to kiss where your hands have traced, letting your tongue flick across his skin. You lick shamelessly at one of his nipples and feel drunk on the way he lets out a surprised little breath, turning your head to do the same to his other nipple as your hands finally reach their goal: his belt.

You deftly unbuckle it, fast enough that the leather makes a snapping noise when you pull it, and Yoongi bites back a laugh— under normal circumstances you might be embarrassed by how obvious you're being, but you're desperate to finally touch him, especially after he'd made you cum as hard as he had. You look up at him as you reach for his zipper but falter when you notice that he's staring at you with something akin to awe, lifting your lips off his skin.

"What?" You ask, suddenly feeling shy.

Yoongi doesn't respond verbally. Instead, he quirks a little grin at you before he cups your face with both hands and bends down to kiss you again, deeper and slower than he has before. You match his pace, the two of you tilting your heads to get a little closer, but when you continue to pull Yoongi's zip down he laughs against your lips and you smile. He gets the hint, stepping back so he has room to kick his trousers and underwear off; he's not trying to be sensual about it, moving fast so he can get close to you again, but you're enraptured nonetheless.

You swallow at the sight of his cock when it’s finally freed. It's flushed red from neglect, fully hardened, curving up towards his stomach, and you can see how the head glistens with precum, slick and wet. Saliva floods your mouth. Yoongi looks briefly startled when you put your hands against his hips and lightly push him backwards, but then you slide off the bed and onto your knees in front of him and the shock immediately disappears from his face, tangling a hand in your hair as you settle in place.

He's so hard that you don't feel like teasing him. Instead, you take the precum that's gathered at the tip of his cock and rub it down his length, hand wrapping around and twisting as you dip forwards and take the flushed head into your mouth. You can't swallow him all the way down, thanks to your gag reflex, but you give it a damn good go— you relax your throat as much as you can as you lower your head, using your hand to touch the parts of his cock that aren't in your mouth. You tongue at the vein on the underside as you lift back up, using your free hand to cup his balls, and Yoongi curses, his hand tightening in your hair as he pulls you off.

You blink up at him in surprise, mouth still open after he's slid out of your mouth— you feel like you'd barely started— and you can see how his cock twitches as he drinks the sight of you in.

"That mouth of yours is downright sinful," he says, running his thumb over your lower lip. You go lax under his touch, which seems to please him. "As much as I'd like to cum down your throat, I think you want something else instead, don't you, babygirl?"

Your breath shudders out of you and you nod. You want Yoongi's cock inside you, itching for him to finally fuck you stupid, the way you've been yearning for so long. "God, yes, please."

Yoongi's lips twitch at your shameless desperation. "Stand up then, baby," he says, and you comply. "Turn around."

You turn towards the bed to show Yoongi your back, and he slowly unzips your dress; it slides off your shoulders easily, slipping down your body and pooling on the floor as Yoongi drags his hands over the revealed skin. You tremble under his touch, sensitive to each of his motions as he unclasps your bra, and finally you're entirely unclothed, lingerie carelessly tossed to one side before Yoongi pulls you close.

Your back is pressed to his chest, and you can feel the heat and hardness of his cock pressing against you, but you forget about that when his hands move to cup your breasts, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples. You tilt your head back against his shoulder and he takes the opportunity to kiss down your neck, using his tongue to lick down the bared length of it, and your breath hitches in your throat as he pinches one of your nipples between his fingers, the perfect mix of careful roughness.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," Yoongi breathes into the crook of your neck. You whimper and grind back against him, feeling the wetness of his cock as it slips against your skin, and he bites back a groan.

"Yoongi, I need you," you say, so close to finally getting what you've been craving for so long. "Please," you add, voice high with desperation.

You feel how Yoongi bares his teeth against your skin in a silent snarl before he's turning you around in his arms, and you squeal in surprise as he hitches you upwards onto the bed, your head falling onto the pillows. It wasn't a rough motion, Yoongi still careful even when he's clearly as hungry for you as you are for him, but you find yourself whimpering at how he's manhandled you, loving it. Seems like he's helping you discover things about yourself that you hadn't realised before now.

Yoongi settles between your legs, staring down at you, bare and helpless underneath him. You reach out your hand to touch his chest, sweeping your fingers down the line of his stomach and over the trail of dark hair that leads down to his weeping cock, still shining with your spit. He curses, leaning over you to paw at his nightstand drawer; he fumbles with the lube and condom when you wrap your fingers around his length again, stroking him hard and slow.

"Yoongi, please," you say again, practically begging, wanting him inside you as quickly as possible. He curses under his breath again but then wraps his fingers around yours, pulling your hand off his cock. You pout at him. "I've been a good girl, haven't I?"

"Good girls are patient." Yoongi leans back on his heels and you make a small whining noise, but you quieten when you watch him rip open the condom packet; you reach forward again to help him roll it down his cock, wanting to keep the feeling of his hardness and heat under your touch, but he fixes you with a stern gaze. "Hands."

You pause, wondering exactly what he means. You settle on pulling your hands away and stretch up to let them rest on the pillow above you. You must have done the right thing because Yoongi smiles, and you give a squirm of delight. He shifts closer and hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, turning his head to kiss your inner ankle.

"So perfect," he says, and you squirm again, pleased. He reaches for the bottle of lube and uncaps it with a quiet click, drizzling it directly onto his cock and biting back a noise at the coldness of it— but then he squirts more into his hands, warming it between his fingers. You make a small questioning sound, and Yoongi smiles before kissing your ankle again. "This is for you, baby."

Your eyebrows raise in quiet surprise. You're already so wet, dripping with a mix of your own cum and Yoongi's lingering spit, but he's still being this careful and considerate. He dips his slick fingers between your flushed lips and draws them upwards, making you arch your back as he grazes over your pearl of nerves, pleasure shooting directly into your core. 

"Oh, fuck," you gasp. "God, please, Yoongi, please."

"I've got you, babygirl," he murmurs, and you marvel at his self control, his restraint even now. He grips your leg with one hand and uses the other to guide himself into you. Finally. You moan as he sinks in, stretching you, slowly pushing in inch by inch; you can feel the way your walls stretch, parting for him, until he's bottomed out, and you feel so full.

"Holy shit, Yoongi." You've moved your hands and you're digging your nails into his back, trying to pull him closer even though it's not possible, Yoongi's cock so long that you can feel it filling you completely. "Oh, God."

Yoongi's fringe is hanging in his eyes but you can see how his pupils have almost swallowed the dark of his irises, the way he's drinking in the sight of you beneath him— your pupils are blown too, hair a messy halo against the pillows, nipples hard from arousal, chest heaving as you hiccup in air. He pulls out, just as slowly as he'd pushed in, the drag of his cock against your inner walls sending electricity shooting through your nerves; he stops before he's completely out, only the head of him still inside you, and you bite your lip in anticipation, waiting for the next slow thrust in.

You're completely blindsided when Yoongi snaps his hips forward suddenly, fucking sharply into you, and you choke on a surprised breath. He sets a brutal pace, the sound of his skin slapping against yours almost drowned out by the way you wail. Your hands fall away from his back and to the sheets, fingers gripping at them, twisting under your hands. His brows are drawn together with focus, but when you raise a hand up to touch his face he goes easily, letting your leg slip off his shoulder so he can kiss you.

His motions slow somewhat as you kiss each other, but he keeps the roll of his hips just as deep, and you end up all but panting against his mouth instead of kissing him; he swipes his tongue across your lips and you let them fall open so he can lick into your mouth, sloppy and wet. You can feel an orgasm building again, surprisingly fast— especially as he's not even touching your clit— and you clench around him, wanting to hit that peak again.

Yoongi stops kissing you to rest his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes as he slows his thrusts, grinding into you each time he pushes all the way in, hips flush with yours. "Such a good girl." His voice is a low rasp, dark and heavy. "So pretty for me."

Yes, yes, yes. "Wanna be your good girl," you breathe. "Make you feel as good as you make me feel."

Yoongi actually growls, wrapping his hands around your waist and pulling you up. You grab his shoulders for support, legs spreading so that your knees hit the mattress, his cock still inside you as you look down at him, both of you kneeling now. Your breasts are pressed against his chest, stomachs flush, and Yoongi grinds up into you. His hands slide from your waist, to your ass, fingers digging into your flesh as he pulls you up; the change of angle has the curve of his cock dragging right across your sweet spot and you gasp. "Oh, yes, there, just like that."

You press down as Yoongi's hips snap up, and you can feel how his motions are starting to get a little jerkier, staccato, the way he speeds up. With the drag of your nipples against his chest, and the way he's hitting your g-spot dead on each time, you're close to hitting your peak, pleasure riding up into a crescendo— and then Yoongi slides one of his hands between the two of you to rub at your clit and you're gone again, gasping and shaking as your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, all the air escaping your lungs in a drawn out, shuddering wail.

"Fuck, baby." Yoongi's motions grow a little more hurried and sloppy, thrusting up into you as your walls pulsate around him. You try to match his pace, drinking down the way his face twists as he chases his own release— and then his grip on you grows tight enough to bruise and he cums with a surprisingly quiet moan. He grinds upwards, his cock twitching inside you as he empties himself into the condom; you shiver at the sensation, squeezing your legs around his hips in an instinctive attempt to draw him as deeply into you as possible, as futile as that is.

Your legs are shaking. You remain tangled around each other, sweaty and panting, but then Yoongi is grasping your chin and tilting your head down so that he can kiss you. It's soft, and gentle, and you melt into it, going lax and boneless in his hold as you tighten your hands in his hair. 

You feel how he smiles tiredly against your lips, and when you pull back, he looks thoroughly fucked out; his hair is a mess from how you've been running your hands through it and lips are kiss swollen, parted so that he can suck air in and try to catch his breath. You must look similarly wrecked. You feel hazy, though Yoongi feels solid beneath you, grounding you as you slowly come back to yourself.

"I'm going to lean you back, beautiful," he says, and you entwine your fingers together behind his neck so that he can tilt you onto the mattress, careful and reverent. He slips his softening cock out of you and you let out a small sigh at the sudden feeling of emptiness, though as soon as he's done tying the condom off and throwing it in the bin he comes back to you, lightly kissing you as he draws a hand gently between the valley of your breasts. Despite the tenderness behind the motion you're suddenly struck with wondering if he's about to ask you to leave, but then he asks: "Do you want to come wash up?"

You pause. "Oh, God, my makeup," you say with sudden realisation as your fingers come up to touch under your eyes. Your eyeshadow and mascara must be a mess by now. You splay your hand across your face, as if trying to hide it— which you know is stupid, especially considering the fact the rest of your body is naked under Yoongi's gaze. He huffs out a laugh and takes your hands with his own, pulling them away. "Nooo," you whine. "Don't look at me."

One of Yoongi's eyebrows rises. "Why would I ever want to look away from you?"

You wriggle. "Yoongi," you whine again, equal parts pleased and embarrassed, but you let your hands go limp and Yoongi pulls you to your feet. "You're shameless."

"And you're gorgeous," he says, simply. "Come on, you'll get cold."

Yoongi lets you clean up first. It's weird how comfortable you are as you navigate your way around Yoongi and Jin's bathroom— you pilfer one of Jin's makeup wipes to clean your face— and how natural it feels to accept the shirt Yoongi gives you, an oversized, stretched-out old thing that's gone soft from years of wear. You're perched on the bathroom counter as you slide it on, glancing down at the design on the front, and you instantly perk up when you see what it is.

"You do love Kumamon," you say with delight. 

Yoongi stops in the middle of brushing his teeth, looking a little ridiculous with the minty froth around his lips but still just as kissable. He rinses his mouth and spits, wiping his lips with a towel before he makes a face at you.

"Jin told you about that, too?"

"I want to see your slippers," you say in reply and Yoongi groans. You can't help but giggle, feeling sleepy and soft and affectionate, and you touch your fingers under Yoongi's chin so that you can press a quick kiss to his lips. "I think it's cute."

By the time you've both finished your ablutions and you slide off the counter, you feel tired, what little energy you had after being fucked by Yoongi completely gone from you; you slide onto Yoongi's bed gratefully, glad to be off your feet. You hold your hands up and beckon for him to join you, but then let out a sharp laugh of surprise when he tugs his rumpled blanket off the bed from underneath you and lets it drop to the floor. "Yoongi!"

"I'll be right back," he says. While you wait, you decide to stretch, eyes slipping shut as you extend your limbs. You know you'll feel the ache between your legs tomorrow, a little thrill skating through you at the knowledge that Yoongi's touch has left a physical reminder, something only you can feel and no one else can see.

When your eyes flutter open again, you see Yoongi standing at the bottom of the bed, a different blanket gathered in his arms. He's staring at you, and you realise that the material of his shirt has moved as you've stretched, hitching up over your hips. Even though you're both tired, Yoongi's eyes still darken when you shift your legs, and you bask under his attention.

"A different blanket?" You ask, curious, and Yoongi's eyes slide away from your still-bare core back up to your face.

"It's Jin's," he says. "I wasn't about to let you sleep on sweaty sex sheets."

"I don't mind," you say, honestly, but Yoongi proceeds to lay Jin's blanket across the bed anyway. "Jin's not going to be happy about this," you add, but you say it with a laugh, instantly curling up into Yoongi when he lays down beside you.

"He'll live." Yoongi's arm comes around you, fingers trailing over your shoulder; you lapse into silence and let your eyes shut, focusing on Yoongi's movements. It feels like he’s pressing piano keys down and playing a silent song against your skin. You can't help but smile, starting to drift off, when Yoongi speaks again. "Let me take you out for breakfast."

"Hm?" Your eyes open and you blink away your sleepiness to look up at Yoongi, who's still watching you. "Breakfast?"

"Yes." Yoongi's fingers still on your shoulder, and then he slides his hand down to tangle your fingers with his. "Or lunch. Or dinner. Whichever you prefer." He pauses. "Unless you don't want to," he says, and though his voice stays steady, you see a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. He's worried that you've gotten what you want and now you'll be done with him.

"You're so silly," you say softly, and you can see how Yoongi's face twists with confusion, unsure about how to react to being called silly— you can't imagine many people have said that to him, as outwardly intimidating as he can be. You squeeze his hand. "Of course I want to. But how about we plan it tomorrow? I don't know how long it's going to take me to be comfortable with walking in a straight line, so breakfast might be off the cards for now."

After a moment, Yoongi's face takes on a satisfied expression. "That's what you said you wanted," he says, and you huff out an amused breath.

"I technically said I wanted you to bend me over a piano, actually," you point out, letting your head settle in the crook of his neck again, and Yoongi brushes his lips against your forehead.

"There's a piano in the living room," he states casually, and you can't help the shiver that runs through you, even as your eyes start to fall shut again.

"I'll keep that in mind."

–

jiminnie y/n!! tae said you called in sick for work? are you okay??

you i'm good! just a lil busy

jiminnie with what?

you [image attached]

jiminnie … why have you sent me a photo of a piano?

you yoongi's gonna fuck me on it omg on that note i've gtg BYE LOVE YOU MINNIE xoxoxo

jiminnie WHAT??? OMG??? GET THAT DICK QUEEN!!!

[2018shawn]

prosecco courage

warnings: unprotected sex bc they’ve had the discussion in my head prior to this night so if you haven’t wrap before you tap folks. smut obvs, swearing, light choking and a boy giving into a girls persistent ways

a/n: asbfjasds I feel like I'm so bad at smut I'm so sorry but nevertheless, here is 5k of it bc the live tonight finally got me to finish it. @shawnsmoose​ sent me an smol request about 20 years ago, so here it is n I'm sorry I don’t feel like I captured the choking very well sooooo big laughs 🥵👀 we’re here for a good time not a long time peace out x

Tom looked at the picture on his phone for probably the 176th time since you’d sent him it earlier this evening. Your phone was held in one of your hands, pointing towards the mirror to take the picture, a glass of prosecco in the other. Your body was covered in nothing but a matching, red lace underwear set, clinging to and showing off each asset of yours. He’d seen you in it once before and lost his shit back then and as it turns out – nothing has changed. Groaning and throwing his head back against his headboard, he tossed his phone aside, trying to get back to concentrating on writing the script in front of him. Deadlines were a bitch.

You, on the other hand, were in the corner of a club downtown, the red lace underwear covered by your sexiest black dress and topped off with patent, nude heels and matching bag. It was fun; the amount of alcohol you’d consumed soaking into your veins made it more fun that what you’d anticipated. You wanted nothing more than to go about your usual Saturday routine – face mask, bubble bath and your comfiest pyjamas. Or you most recent routine – face mask, bubble bath, your sexiest pyjamas and fucking the living daylights out of Tom.

The music was booming, the group of your girlfriends enjoying their time as they huddled around their booth, topping up their drinks from the ice-cold bucket in the middle of the table. You pulled your phone out your bag, feeling more annoyed as you clicked on your conversation with Tom seeing he hadn't sent anymore messages. After you’d sent the picture, he’d simply replied, be careful, let me know if you need picking up 💙

What a way to make you feel stupid, for not replying to the picture you’d sent to him. It had taken you almost half a bottle of prosecco before you’d even headed out the door to pluck up the courage to press send. It only spurred you on to drink more, to forget about embarrassing yourself to someone who wasn’t even your boyfriend yet. The more you drank, the more you thought he probably had girls throwing themselves at him; as much as he says he’s only seeing you, who’s to say he’s not the same as every other man you’ve dated?

It was getting to almost 1 o’clock, which you were proud of as a very rare clubber, but your drinking was slowing down, your stomach feeling full of fizz. Normally, you’d be straight on the phone to Tom, asking him to come get you but what was the point if he didn’t even want to see a picture of you. You gulped the rest of your drink in one go, picking up your bag and leather jacket – because London was cold in the winter – giving the girls the heads up you were leaving.

Several pleads to stay and hugs from your closest friends later, you were heading out of the packed club, heading to the taxi rank just metres away from the club entrance. Tom picked his phone up after another thirty minutes of working some more, his brain coming to a halt with words, only being able to think of you and that damn picture. He knew if he replied and gave you the response you wanted, you’d cancel your night out and turn up at his place, which he didn’t want you to do. He wanted you to go and have a good time, you needed it after how much you’d been working and grafting, so he’d finally persuaded you to go with them, telling you he’d be here plenty of other nights for you casual date night. He told himself he awake this late on a Saturday night, working, because he wanted to get the script finished. The reality was, he was awake this late on a Saturday because you still hadn’t replied and he needed to know you were okay. 

The taxi driver smiled at you as you sunk into the back seat of the black cab, “where to, miss?”-

A loud knock on Tom’s door at just gone 1:30am was the happy interruption he wanted for him to be able to close his finally close his laptop. He trudged to the door, wiping his eyes in an attempt to wipe away the heavy, sleepy feeling. He pulled off the chain, twisting the lock before tugging the door open, only hoping it was you the other side. And there you stood, your arms wrapped around your body to protect yourself from the cold and tom could understand why, the cold air hitting his bare top half, making him tense up. “Y/N?” He asked, blinking his eyes as if he was imagining.

“You’re an arse,” you spat, storming past him into the familiar warmth of his home. Despite your clear annoyance, he smiled at your presence, closing the door swiftly behind you to stop anymore heat from escaping.

“Excuse me?” He watched as you headed straight for the staircase, you high heels clicking over the hardwood floor before you kicked them off, tossing them to the side. Your hips swayed a little more than normal as you started your journey up his stairs, not caring that your dress rode up a little more than it had all evening. “And where are you going?”

“I need to pee,” you simply shouted, not bothering the turn around and look at him before disappearing out of his view.

He supposed he was meant to follow you, not very often dealing with the stubborn side of you thus far into your (not official) relationship. So he did just that. Locking up downstairs and switching all the lights off because he assumed you’d soon be crashed out on his bed, if the smell of alcohol as you drifted past him was anything to go by. The sound of the toilet flushing filled the empty silence before you reappeared, head leaning around his bedroom door to see where he was. On the bed, tom let his legs dangle of the foot of the bed, laying backwards with his arms flung across his face. You cleared you throat, and he removed his arms from over his eyes, sitting up and leaning on his forearms. The sweatpants that hung low on his hips, displaying the band of his boxers, were a total distraction from you being mad at him and he knew it.

“I’m an arse?” He asked, repeating your previous phrase with a hint of confusion in his tone.

You leaned against the door frame, still yet to enter his room as your arms crossed in front of you, body language telling him that you meant what you said, “Yeah.”

“And why is that?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow as you put all your body weight onto one side, your other leg bending at the knee. His eyes couldn’t help but wander over your body and admire the way the dress clung to your frame so perfectly and normally, he’d be ripping it off you, but he wasn’t sure you wanted that from him right now.

“You ignored my picture.” Oh so this is what it’s about he thought to himself, a smirk subconsciously appearing on his lips. He got up from where he was sprawled on the bed and walked over to you, his hand snaking around your waist, all the time keeping the cocky smile on his lips. “Don’t smile, you jerk. I felt stupid! I felt… like you didn’t want the picture. Like I was just some other stupid girl that had fallen head over heels for you and was trying to woo you. It was humiliating…” you hiccupped, your hand coming up to cover your mouth, “… and now I’m really drunk because some guy bought everyone at the table drinks and I wasn’t gonna but I though hey, if Tom doesn’t want the attention then someone else sure as hell…” His lips crashed on to yours, stopping you before you let anything else leave you mouth. He hated to hear that he made you feel stupid. He hated even more that you felt like you needed to get the attention from another guy, but he couldn’t say too much because, technically, you weren’t officially his.

He pulled his lips away, licking off the taste of jägerbombs and vodka, letting his forehead rest against yours. “You know, I had to stop myself from looking at that picture and being a horny teenager all night. If I replied what I really want to reply, you wouldn’t have gone out and had a good time.”

“I need to sit down.” You demanded, and you didn’t know if it was the alcohol that was making you dizzy or if it was just the way he just won you over every single time. He laughed softly, pulling your arm and sitting you on the bed.

“I’ll be right back,” he told you before disappearing out of the room, returning minutes later with two bottles of water and some medicine in his hand, “take these.” He handed you two small pills, opening the bottle for you as you popped them into your mouth. He helped you in drinking some water, his spare hand resting under your chin and tilting it back as you let the ice-cold liquid wash down the medication.

For the first time of the evening, your lips curled up into a smile as a way of saying thank you as he put the bottles of water on the bedside table, your stubborn personality restricting you from saying it out loud. “He asked for my number...” you don’t know why you were saying it, because at the time you turned your back to the creepy stranger and pulled a sicky face, and you most definitely were not interested. The only thing you was interested in was getting some form of reaction from Tom. But it was as if you’d forgotten the words he’d spoken to you before you felt like you was about to throw up everywhere.

“Pardon?” You words stopped him dead in his tracks as he was about to walk past you, stopping striaght in front of you instead. He didn’t say it aggressively, he didn’t say it like he was annoyed, but you knew he was saying it just to make you repeat yourself for the sake of it.

“He... I’m...” suddenly you felt nervous and gulped as Tom hovered over you, looking down as you sat on the bed, staring into his torso because you were too scared to make eye contact. His body was insane, even more so when he’s stood directly in front of you and your eyes can’t even manage to look away. Each pair of abdominal muscles felt warm against your cold finger tips, the feeling of him tense underneath you sending a flush of heat to your core. His hand wrapped around your wrist, putting a pause on any gentle touches you were giving him. Your eyes finally pulled away from his chiseled feautures, slowly drifting up until they connected with his. “He asked for my number.”

“And what did you say, darling?” His voice was soft, again, not like he was annoyed. You kind of wanted him to be annoyed though, you wanted him to want you as much as you wanted him.

“I… I said I was seeing somebody else.” You couldn’t help but rebel against his grasp, wriggling your hand out of his firm grip and returning it to his lower stomach. Fingers traced the waistband of his sweats, and you thought the outline of his dick was more prominent that is was before. You wanted to show him that you wanted to be his because rejecting one other guy was just not enough.

“Love…” he started, grabbing your wrist again, “not whilst you’re this drunk.” You rolled your eyes and threw yourself back to the bed, landing with a thud against the feathery duvet. “I’m gonna get you some clothes.”

In all honesty, he couldn’t look at you for a minute longer because he wanted to rip the stupid, perfect dress off and have you underneath – or on top, whatever, he wasn’t fussy – him all night long. He knew he was bad with words; he knew he never let on his true feelings and that’s probably why he’s had so many failed attempts in the past. But you were different, he was closer to telling you how he felt more than he ever had been with anyone else. His shadow disappeared from over you, and you sat back up, watching the way his back tensed as he walked over to his wardrobe. Sifting through several drawers, he picked up a couple of options, assessing a few items to see if they were too big for you. He’d liked the fact you told the other guy you were seeing somebody. In fact, he loved it.

You sighed, wishing he’d put on a stupid top if he didn’t want you to pounce on him anytime soon. The black dress that covered your body, was being tugged over your head messily by your arms, almost getting yourself stuck in the mesh material. He still had his back to you as you threw it to the floor, smoothing your fingers over your body whilst assessing the presentation of that red lace underwear.

“You know, I really did have to stop myself, with that picture. You looked fucking incredible, Y/N.” He said the words whilst he had the courage to say them, usually defeated by his inside voice when it came to discussing how he felt. “I think I picked my phone up about…” He turned around, sweats and a t-shirt in his hands and his jaw clenched. His eyes widened at the sight before him; you lay on his bed, on your stomach, with your legs crossed in the air and head resting in the palm of your hands. You can imagine cringing at yourself in the morning, because being sexy didn’t come naturally to you.

“Babe, please don’t make this harder than it already is” he laughed, placing the comfy outfit on the corner of the bed.

“Make what harder?” You looked up innocently, through your fluttery lashes, putting on the most delicate voice you could muster. He admired your body, tanned and smooth. The freckles on your back he’d once spent all afternoon counting – around 57, if you’re wondering – were only partially covered by the strap of your bra, which stood out immensely against your skin. The matching bright red panties adorned your hips perfectly, sculpting around your curvy hips and peachy derriere.

“Come here, let’s get you dressed,” he held out his hand, which although you didn’t want to, you took, shuffling yourself up to sit on your knees at the end of the bed.

“But I don’t wannaaaaaaa” you whined, quivering your lower lip.

“But you gottaaaaaa” he mimicked you, sticking his tongue out. That damn tongue. Could be put to better use somewhere else, you thought, giggling to yourself like a little lovestruck teenager as he just shot you a look at you amusing yourself.

If god was real, he was stood in front of you, attempting to get you to bed.

When you reached over to the short pile of clothes he’d placed on the end of the bed for you and pushed them off the edge, so they landed in a pile on the floor, he rolled his eyes. “Oops.” You shrugged. Your fingers found the waistband of his sweats again and he was getting tired of fighting you off. It not that he didn’t want you, because he’d be crazy not to, but he just didn’t want to take advantage of your current tipsy state, he’d been brought up better than that. You pulled at his joggers, making him tumble forwards towards you, already cringing at your desperate and needy voice. “Why don’t you want me… Tommy?”

The nickname was all it took to leap on top of you, pinning you down. His hand held around your neck, holding your head still as you flopped back against the bed sheets yet again. If you’d have known, you’d have said it sooner. You couldn’t help but smirk, your constant nagging finally getting you somewhere. His other hand kept him from crushing your body, holding up his weight above you. His eyes were lustful, like he’d switched personalities in a matter of seconds.

“You don’t think I want you?” He asked, voice quiet but rough. His breath felt hot against your skin, and you wriggled underneath him for a brief moment, until he moved his hand from your neck and snaked it down your body, making sure to take his time until he got to your wetting centre. He cupped whatever of you he could, his warm hands meeting your warm core creating the most uncontrollable heat between you.

“No. I don’t.” you spoke, with a hint of bratiness portraying in your words even though you felt like melted butter beneath him. A quiet tut left his mouth and you think it was followed by a dark chuckle, but you couldn’t be sure because you’d zoned into a world of desperation. Your hips bucked up against his hand, only briefly getting more pressure from him.

“Fuck this,” he spat, crashing down onto your lips, his thumb tracing the outline of your swollen folds through the material of your damp panties. He didn’t want to give in, he thought he could be better than that, but you made it too damn impossible for him to going about a normal nightly routine without being so irresistible.

A whimper fell from your plump lips as he pulled away, instantly attaching to the skin on your neck where a faint red mark had formed from where he had grabbed you. He soothed the area with his lips, tongue lapping across the sensitive area. The strain against his sweatpants was getting intense, digging into the inner of your thighs the further down your body his lips travelled. You muttered a string of words, squirming beneath him.

His hand came from your aching middle, fiercely reaching up and cupping your breast like he was holding onto it for dear life. Beneath the lace covering, your nipple hardened as he caressed you through the fabric, teasing it in between his nimble fingers. He got off on seeing you pleased, he knew that, you knew that, hell, even Sandra next door fucking knew that. So when his lips didn’t stop at your stomach and continued further south, you knew you could count your blessings and say goodbye to your bratty attitude. With one hand, he tugged your underwear to the side, tracing your damp folds with his fingers. “Tom…” You breathed, desperate for his touch. He smirked, not that you could see, as his head bowed further into the valley of your legs.

Replacing where his fingers had been, his tongue followed suit of his digits, tracing your dripping folds and circling your throbbing clit. That was the first squeal of pleasure you let out, mouth dropping wide and hands coming up to his freshly shaved hair. You were annoyed he had to shave it off, wanting nothing more to run your fingers through his floppy brown hair and tug away at it. Grabbing the next best thing, your fingers bunched up as much of the duvet as they could grab as he continued to tease your entrance, the roughness of his buzzcut brushing against your inner thighs. Reapplying pressure from his fingers caused your second squeal, your chest showing your heavy breathing and back arching into him. He squeezed your breast intensely in an attempt to communicate with you whilst his mouth was busy elsewhere. If this is where being drunk got you, you thought you’d start drinking every day, because never before has he loved and performed with such hungry passion like this.

The sound of his lips working against your cunt was the only thing filling the room, other than the sounds of your whimpers and whines. The vibrations shuddered through your body as he hummed into you, his hand trying to reach further up and find a place back on your neck. He noted your heavier breathing and the way your legs wrapped around his shoulders, getting tighter by the second. He knew you well enough to know that he could make you cum, just from using his mouth, but he didn’t want that. He wanted to push you, like you had pushed him.

When he was unsuccessful in reaching to your collar, he pulled away from your ridiculously wet core, sucking on your clit and pulling away with a pop, regaining his breath and wiping his mouth on the sheets beneath him. “You really do want me, huh?” He smirked, crawling up until he was face to face with you, admiring your flushed and rosy cheeks. Your teeth captured your bottom lip, nodding silently to his question, feeling unsatisfied with the lack of touch. He sat up on his knees, in between your legs, and tugged at the waistband of his sweats and boxers, pulling them down his legs, for what felt like the longest time, until his member popped free and you’re suddenly aware of how wet you are for him, feeling your panties stick to you.

“P-please, Tom” you breathe, hands releasing the ball of material in your hands and reaching up for him. He snaps your hands away, still annoyed by your persistent plan to get him to this point and he pushes them above your head, your arms stretched out as much as can be.

“Get up.” He demanded, moving back away from you to give you enough room to slide out. You remained stuck to the bed, however, confused by his sudden instructions. Was he kicking you out? Had you literally been that desperate he didn’t wanna do it?

“Huh?” You questioned as he shuffled back on his knees until his legs could slide off the foot of the bed, landing on the floor with his sweat’s puddled around his ankles.

“Get up.” He repeated, same tone but slightly higher volume. You sat up, wiggling your bum until your legs also fell over the edge of the bed. Your legs were wide, his body inbetween them as he traced his hand up your skin, starting at the valley of your breasts and finishing at your neck. His large hand cupped your jaw, and it the most delicately forceful way possible, he put pressure onto you, forcing your body to stand upright as you followed the direction of his touch. As soon as you were stood, legs threatening to buckle beneath you any minute, he once again soothed over the red mark around your jaw, relaxing his tongue against your skin.

Your arms bent around to your back, fingers clasping at the buckle of your bra, until he he caught you, pulling his head sharply away from your neck and capturing your wrists in his hands. “No,” he said, voice gentle this time, as if you were about to walk out the door and never come back.

“No?” You asked, relaxing your shoulder and letting your arms drop to your side.

“No.” He repeated, more definite with his tone of voice this time. “You wanted me to see this little ensemble...” His hands pointed over your body before they found your hips, twisting your body round 180° so you were facing the bed, your back facing his front. You got his gist, mentally cursing yourself as you was reminded of the picture. You were thankful for the alcohol, though. You wern’t sure you’d be so confident in it without the help of your little friend, prosecco.

You bent forewords, walking your hands across the bed until you were happy you were bent over far enough, your ass higher in the air than the rest of your body. Blonde curls slinked over your shoulder as you turned your head, and what you saw was nothing but a beautiful sight. 

Toms arm tensed as his hand wrapped around his hardened length, a groan of pleasure leaving his lips from the anticipated touch. He pumped himself a few times as he admired the way the lace decorated the curves of your ass; the Brazilian fitting showed off the creases of your hips and the soft natural stretch marks which he could spend hours kissing. His bottom lip was sucked in by his teeth and you reciprocated the action, staring up lustfully at him.

You wanted to beg. You wanted to push your ass back so you could feel his cock against you. But before you had time to decide if that was a wise idea, he took two small steps foreword, lining himself up with the centre of your body. You sucked in air, stomach knotting with butterflies as you waited for him where you most needed him. At tap from his hand on your ass jolted your body forwards, falling onto your forearms and chest flush against the bed.

You didn’t dare look back, not knowing how much more of him you could look at before you jumped ship and ended up getting yourself off. The feel of him pushing your pants to the side made you jump, a gasp escaping you as he ran his index finger up your folds, making sure you were wet enough. Satisfied with how he’d made you dripping with juices, he nudged the tip of his cock against you. Simultaneously, you both let out a moan, both needing it as much as each other. When he pushed into you, at the slowest pace possible to let you adjust around him, he gripped his right hand around your hip to hold you in place.

He began slow, grunting behind you each time you pushed back onto him. A string of unforgivable words left your mouth as you kept a straight posture, noting how the headboard smashed against the back wall as his thrusts grew deeper, the sound synchronised with the sound of his hips smashing against your ass. He released your hip, reaching forward and grabbing a fistful of your bouncy hair. Tugging your hair towards his body, you squealed as your head followed, back arching in the most flexible manner. Whilst keeping hold of your hair, he reached further round, grabbing the front of your neck to keep you from falling foreward to the bed.

The feeling of him clutching onto your neck sent your mind into overdrive although you struggled to spit out an approving moan, your throat being restricted by the pressure of his hand. Your legs began to quiver, bucking beneath you. Tom flipped you over in one swift movement, hand remaining on your neck the entire time as he thrusted back into you, hating the feeling of being out of you; even 2 seconds was too long. He held you there, by your throat, reminding himself that you were here, with him, and not that stupid guy at the club. He wanted you to know he was holding onto you because he never wanted you think about another guy again. He wanted you to know that he felt utterly awful for not making you feel as good as you should about that picture. He wanted you to know, that he wanted you. 

He felt himself getting close, more so now he was face to face with you, adoring how your mouth fell open, lustful eyes meeting his. When you bit your lip and giggled, he couldn’t understand how he was on top of, choking you and fucking you until you forgot about the sleazy guy at the bar, yet you could be the cutest human on the planet. He relaxed his hand, swiping his thumb over your lip in what you found to be more of a delicate moment compared to the ones he’d been showing you all night. His head bobbed down, lips hovering over yours as he spoke quietly. “I want you.” He breathed, tensing and twitching as you wrapped your legs around him, “so fucking much.”

His words were genuine, but you couldn’t understand. He had you. Underneath him. In his bedroom. At 2am on a Sunday morning. “You’ve got me.” You breathed, fingers playing with the hair -or lack of - at the nape of his neck as he rested his forehead on yours. He felt sticky, but you were sure that you did too. 

“All the time?” He asked with a quiver in his voice, but you put it down the the fact you were both on the edge of a climax. You just nodded, biting your lip to stifle a squeal at both your orgasm and excitement of his words. His hips didn’t stop or slow down like you expected them and you knew you were on the brink of finishing, fingers clutching and digging into his back at an attempt to hold on longer. 

“Tom... I- I’m-” You struggled to talk, cutting your sentence short and interrupting yourself with a scream, your eyes rolling back and squeezing shut. He breathed into the crook of your neck, a small mmhmm humming through hip lips in agreement. When his rhythm slowed as hips jolted fewer times, but with more deep and powerful thrusts, he nudged your spot, leaving you crumbling beneath him whilst a string of ohmygod’s and fuck-tom’s left you, your voice shaking in tune with your legs. 

Your hips jolted upwards as your came around from your climax, pushing into him as he experienced his own. His arm snaked round your back, pulling you into him as if you lifting up to meet his thrusts wasn’t enough, before he was moaning in your ear, sending shivers through your body like nothing you’ve ever known.

Neither of you knew how long you’d been there; him on top and still inside you and you catching your breath beneath him. But you both did know, is that you wanted to be there for forever more. It was maybe minutes until he rolled out of you, flopping back onto the bed with a satisfied groan. He still had an arm underneath you, and he tugged it, rolling you onto your side and further into his body. You aching centre felt sore, but very well loved and you couldn’t help but smile. “So... about that guy at the bar?”

“What about him?” Your eyebrows furrowed, not expecting that to be the first thing to come up after having mind blowing sex. 

“I’m gonna fuck him up for speaking to my girl.”

------

taglist: @imaginashawnns​ @fallinallincurls​

[demonwifey]

ASK ASK ASK ASK BEETLEBOY GETS THE SNUGGLES HE DESERVES AND IS SOFT W READER WHO KINDA JUST HOLD HIM AND KISSES AWAY HIS INSECURITIES BC I KNOW IM SOFT FOR THIS MAN AND I WANNA SMOOCH HIM

Whew, so this took me a while to finish. The whole thing with the pandemic, police brutality, and I’m taking a 5 week summer class. It’s just been crazy. Thanks you guys so much for being patient while I hadn’t posted. I’m gonna try to post again sooner than later, so be on the look out for that. Hope you guys enjoy!💜🖤💚

Warning: Cursing, mentions of sex, slightly drunk reader

Word Count: 4,596

There was something wrong with Beetlejuice...besides the usual. Normally Beetlejuice was a firecracker that never fizzled out. His chaotic personality, among other things, is what you loved about him. He wasn’t normal like every other person you dated before, ignore the fact that he was literally a demon from hell. He was just better, in every way possible.

****

When you both first met, it was something you’d basically hoped for your whole life. You always had a thing for scary stuff. Horror movies, haunted houses, etc. Anything related to the supernatural, you wanted to know more about. You weren’t exactly sure why these things interested you so much, they just did. And, unfortunately for them, you always subjected your friends to joining you in any strange activity you participated in. 

You met Beetlejuice on your 25th birthday. Your friends asked you how you wanted to celebrate, hoping you would pick something ‘normal’. Maybe a club, a rooftop dinner, hell even mini golf sounded like a better plan then what you always had in mind. But you rejected their ideas, saying you wanted to go to the new haunted mansion attraction near your house. Your birthday was in October so all types of Halloween related attractions were coming to light. 

Of course, your friends all groaned at the idea, just wanting to not deal with anything scary for once. But they loved you nonetheless and just sucked it up like always. 

The day came for your haunted mansion adventures and you were too excited. When you all pulled up to the mansion, it looked like a regular house. The outside looked old and ratty but it didn’t look exactly terrifying. When you guys came up to the ticket booth, the hostess tried her best to sound scary. She talked in a low tone and sounded out her words as slowly as she could. Making it blatantly obvious that she was putting on an act. 

Once you all were inside, you were disappointed beyond belief. It was dark...and that was it. All the lights were turned off and there were black, what looked like, sheets hanging from the ceiling. There seemed to be a random strobe light sitting somewhere in the corner as flashes of black and white were hitting your eyes. So yeah, disappointed was definitely an understatement. 

Here you were, thinking you’d get the actual experience of a genuine haunted house but it turned out to be a cheap let down. Your friends were relieved though. They didn’t actually have to deal with anything too scary. Oh, well. They were convinced you wanted to leave at that point but you weren’t. They’d already bought tickets in so you all might as well stay. Plus, the house had three stories. Maybe you could find something interesting throughout this whole shitty thing. 

Knowing that you’d actually want to find something more scary, you told your friend you wanted to split up. They could take their time talking and staying on the main level. You decided to head up, trying to get to the attack. You could usually find interesting stuff in an attic. On your way up you were met with more and more corny attempts to be scary; random people jumping out at you, loud recorded screams coming from every direction, and having you walk through fake cobwebs as you made your way up. 

Finally you reached the top floor, but when you looked around there wasn’t any way to the attic. You were only met with a plain ceiling but decorated in cheap Halloween decorations. You were starting to feel bad that you made your friends spend money on tickets to the place. Well, you’ll probably just have to settle for dinner at a fancy restaurant like one of their other suggestions. 

Just as you turned to head back out of the empty bedroom you were in, the door slammed in front of you. ...Okay, you thought. Neat trick. You walked to the door to reopen it but just before your hand touched the doorknob, a small white card slid under the door. Your eyebrows furrowed as you reached to pick it up. The card read: 

Betelgeuse the Bio-Exorcist

Call: Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse

Speak My Name 3 Times

What the hell? Beetle-guise? Was this part of the tour? And why did that name look so familiar? You exited through the door but there was no one in sight. Shrugging your shoulders, you absentmindedly placed the card in your jacket pocket before heading down to meet back up with your friends. 

The night ended with you stumbling into your apartment, sober enough to make it home but drunk enough to stumble every few steps. If there was one thing your friends were good at, it was making sure you drank away your disappointment when things didn’t go your way. You plopped yourself down onto the couch, making a lackluster attempt to pull your shoes off. Feeling your head swim a little, that’s when you remembered that strange card you found. Being drunk always made your supernatural instincts kick in. Never forget the time you wrote a whole astronomy paper after your friends wanted to go out just before being flooded by work for finals. 

Wait...astronomy. You sat up on the couch, trying to rack your brain of why the name on the card sounded so familiar. That’s when it hit you. The name you remember your teacher going on about when you covered a section on stars, their brightness, and every other thing you barely cared about. 

Beetlejuice! Duh Y/N, you thought. The tenth brightest star in the night sky. You reached into your pocket, fumbling a little as you pulled the card out. Your vision was semi foggy but still clear enough to read the card. 

“Say my name 3 times.” You read to yourself. It was probably a bad idea, but hell. It was your birthday and you deserved to have some type of fun after the shitty let down from earlier. The liquor in your body finally pushed you forward to read out the name. 

“Beetlejuice...Beetlejuice...Beetlejuice!” You called out. Looking around your apartment, nothing had changed. 

You felt a few goosebumps and a slight chill cover your body but that was it. Probably just a mix of anticipation and the state of your drunken mind. You let out a small huff of air before getting up to head for your bedroom. Trying to steady yourself as you walked, you suddenly felt like you bumped into someone. Hold on, someone? You don’t have a roommate. You backed up a little bit before looking up to see a strange man standing in front of you. 

The man stood, wearing a black and white striped suit that looked so old and worn out, seeming as though it would need 200 washes before it was entirely clean. He looked so pale and had different spots of, what looked like, rotted mold on his face. To top it all off, the man had a bird’s nest of beaming green hair spiked in different on his head, his beard matching the same color. To put it lightly, he looked like a dead sleazy car salesman. And you found him...strangely attractive. Yeah, that had to be the 3 Fireball shots talking now.

“Well, helloooo, gorgeous!” A deep raspy voice came from the stranger in front of you. He eyed you up and down, looking at you as though you were his prey.  

“Uh, I-...uh.” You stammered with your words, trying to form a full sentence but failing completely. You took steps backwards as the strange man walked towards you. Panic started to hit you more and more, unsure of who this man was and what he was going to do to you. 

“I know, I know. I’m such a handsome and sexy piece of beefcake that you’re at a loss for words. I get that a lot.” He spoke while smirking at you. 

Well, he took some of the words right out of your mouth, that didn’t stop you from being terrified. Before you could get any further back, the man grabbed your arms and yanked you towards him. Without a second thought you began to use your fists to beat at his chest. You were just about to scream before he started laughing. 

“Oh, don’t be like that, babydoll. Here’s a little something to take the edge off.” The man spoke, just inches from your face. 

Before you could fully take in what he said, the man swung you around, both arms wrapped around your torso and waist. He dipped you down and planted a long deep kiss directly on your lips. Again, this was probably those shots talking, but you felt your head starting to swim again. Oddly enough, the kiss made you feel some type of way. Like you were actually enjoying it? Placing both of your hands on his chest, you deepened the kiss by pushing in more and ‘accidentally’ letting out a small sound that was close to a moan. All this despite the man’s lips tasting like actual graveyard dirt. 

You weren’t sure how long you two were like that, but what was probably a few seconds felt like hours to you. He finally stood you back up, his hands rested on your waist as you regained your footing. God, your head was running at 100 mph. You quickly made your way out the man’s grip before speaking again. 

“W-who the hell are you? And what are you doing in my apartment?” You demand. The mystery man only grinned before using his thumb to rub his bottom lip. 

“Mmm, is that cinnamon I taste? You just get sexier and sexier by the minute, babes!” The man laughed. Yeah, fuck Fireball shots ever again. You felt your face heat up but you stood your ground. 

“J-just get out or I’ll call the police! And I may not look like much, but I took karate for 5 years. I’ll fuck you up until they get here!” You practically screamed. It wasn’t a lie but you hadn’t actually practiced karate since you stopped going to class, which was when you were 13. The man laughed even harder at your attempts to seem tough. 

“Okay, dollface. If you’re gonna ‘fuck me up’ then what’d you call me here for?” He asked, gripping his stomach from laughing to hard. You blinked at him. 

“What?” You asked, starting to get frustrated with all the confusion. “What do you mean call you? I never called anyone. I don’t even know you.” 

“Don’t act too confused, babes. Your face is too adorable when you look like that. You got my card, right?” He asked. You made an even more confused face and he dropped his arms in half defeat. He turned to look around before picking up the card you dropped on the floor. He lifted it so you could see the front of it. “See, that’s me. The B-man himself.”

You didn’t really need to look at the card to remember what it said. You slowly started to feel the edge come off. 

“Beetlejuice? You’re Beetlejuice?” You asked, the tension leaving your body almost immediately. The demon man nodded with a grin before making the card in his hand disappear into tiny flames, pretty much confirming your question. 

“The one and only, babycakes. Mr. ‘Ghost with the Most’ right before your very beautiful eyes.” He replied, fixing his suit jacket confidently. Don’t ask why you felt so much more relaxed at the thought of a demon being in your home rather than a real life person. Within two seconds flat, your face went from confusion and fear to beaming joy. 

“Wait so, you’re a ghost? An actual ghost?” You asked, all too anxious to get every answer you’ve ever had in your head about the supernatural. Beetlejuice could see the excitement on your face. He chuckled before answering. 

“Yes, I am, hot stuff. But, you know my name,” Beetlejuice stepped more in your direction. With the panic actually cleared from your senses, you didn’t back up anymore. “I want to know yours.”  

“Uh, Y/N.” You spoke, feeling a little bit flustered under his gaze. 

The demon man gave you one last smirk before stretching his hand out to you. You gently set your hand in his. Beetlejuice guided you back over to the couch.    

“Well, Y/N. Tell me,” Beetlejuice spoke. He still held your hand while using the other to hold your chin. You just noticed the glowing golden color that filled his eyes. He used them to stare into your own, almost like he was locking you in a trance. 

“What are you dying to know?”

****

And ever since that day, Beetlejuice was all over you as much as you were on him. It started out as a simple flirtationship. Mostly having Beetlejuice come to tell you everything and anything you wanted to know about the Netherworld. 

With Betlejuice being the biggest flirt in the universe, you couldn’t escape his constant advances. Any time you two would talk, it would turn into nothing but crude sex jokes, pet names, and flirty touches that left you more flustered then you could bare. And you didn’t mind any of these things. You were actually fascinated by Beetlejuice and his presence as a demon that you didn’t care about his distasteful nature. 

That’s when it moved into your romantic relationship. Well, more of just a sexual relationship. Friends with benefits? Something along those lines. You didn’t exactly remember how it happened. The most you could think of was you two sitting on your couch, talking like normal. Next you knew, Beej was pushing some hair behind your ears, making you get lost in his eyes as he gained your attention. One moment you were apart, the next you were practically trying to swallow each other. Not long after did you get lost in each other's bodies as the air filled with sighs and moans.  

From there on, it was your regular routine. You would summon Beej on any random day. He’d go off some chaotic tangent about who knows what and you’d listen all too eagerly. After a while, whatever conversation you were having would somehow lead right into sex. And, you thought, the both of you were okay with it. But then you realized a weird shift in his behavior. For a while, your routine stayed the same but still a little off. Whenever you two would sleep together, Beej seemed as though he was overcompensating for something. 

Now, Beetlejuice was always cocky and overconfident but now it was almost like he was hiding something. During sex, it seemed like he was seeking your approval on everything. He started being rougher and wanting to please you in every way he could. You weren’t complaining per say, it was just noticeable. He wasn’t selfish during sex but he sure as hell wasn’t that considerate. And when you two weren’t having sex, he would constantly want to talk about you or do what you wanted to do. You didn’t understand why. You were a basic human like everyone else on the planet. Beetlejuice was a demon. You’d much rather want to talk about him but he wouldn’t budge.

The final straw came on a day when you two somehow got onto the topic of your ex’s. You usually didn’t talk about any of them unless it was with your friends, to which it was more of you all making fun of them. But Beetlejuice brought it up, asking how many men you’d been with before him. You only had 1 major boyfriend in high school and two in college. When you had got with Beetlejuice, you had just broken up with the 3rd ex a year before. And, somehow, that set Beetlejuice off. 

Suddenly his hair was a mix of red and yellow. His words were going at a mile a minute and his eyes were shining brighter than you’d ever seen. He was asking questions like “why did you break up”, “what was he like”, “did he do anything to you” and “how often did you guys have sex” You didn’t actually get to answer any of his questions but knew you had to stop him when you heard “did you love them” and “were any of them better than me”. You grabbed his face, trying to get him to relax and you softly told him to calm down. His cheeks felt like fire in your palms but you didn’t pull away. Beetlejuice huffed and puffed, trying to regain his sense as you cooed at him. After what seemed like 10 minutes, his hair switched to a dark blue and purple color mixed. With your hands still on his face, you noticed that he moved his hands upward to hold yours. Just as they were about to touch, he harshly pulled away. 

Beetlejuice jumped up from the couch before looking down at you. It broke your heart as you could see the clear sadness in his eyes. Just before you could reach up and say something, he disappeared. You heard him mumble “see you later, babes” right before he was gone. You looked at the spot he was in, too many thoughts running around in your head. Something was wrong with Beetlejuice, and you needed to figure out what. 

****

A week had passed after that whole incident and Beetlejuice wanted to act like it never happened. He popped back one day when you came home from work and didn’t even bring up his random spazzing moment. He knew you were going to try and bring up and immediately distracted you with a heated kiss. You didn’t really have a second to think as you both fell backwards on the couch. He deepened the kiss and slowly slipped his hand under your shirt. Well, he was gone for a week and you did miss him. All of him. You’d just have to find time to talk afterwards. 

~

Your room was hot now. All that sighing, grunting, and panting was making the air in your room very dense. You didn’t mind though. It truly was only worth it when Beetlejuice was the one making you feel good. You laid on your side, one arm draped on top of Beetlejuice’s chest. You had gotten used to the lack of movement because of his dead nature. He laid on his back, one arm under your head as the hand played in your hair. His other rested on the hand you had on his chest. Even with the room hot, you got a little bit of a cool sensation from his skin. Beetlejuice’s entire body was ice cold but in this moment, it was the perfect temperature for you. 

“Wow, that was amazing.” You huffed out, trying to steady your breathing. You felt him squeeze your hand. 

“You know I do my best, babes.” He spoke, trying to sound confident. Hearing the attempt in his voice made you remember your original plan. Although you were a little hesitant, unsure of how he would react, you still proceeded. 

“So, Beej,” You started. You subtly tighten your grip around him, hoping that he wouldn't leave once the words slipped out. “I think we should talk about last week.” 

You felt him stiffen in your grip. With your head on his chest you couldn’t see his facial expression. The uncomfortable silence that filled the air had you so far on the edge, you were practically ready to pull your hair out. You heard Beetlejuice swallow before he spoke again. 

“There’s nothing to talk about, Y/N.” His voice was so stern that it almost made you flinch. By his standards, the conversation would’ve been over. And you almost considered it when you saw the hair on his chest turning red. You propped yourself up on one arm, now looking down at him. 

“Actually there is. Look, I know you might not want to talk about it but I do. You’ve been acting really weird these last few weeks and whatever that was last week seemed to the boiling point. Just tell me what's wrong.” You spoke. 

Using the hand still on his chest, your thumb rubbed softly against his cold skin. Now that you got a full look at Beetlejuice’s face, it made you more worried than ever. First, his hair was a mix of bright red and royal blue. The look on his face showed utter anger. He turned his head to look at you and his eyes seemed to glow way more than usual. 

“Did I do something wrong?” He asked while sitting up. His voice sounded agitated.

“No, not exactly. You’ve just been...” You paused for a moment, trying to word your thoughts correctly. “You’ve been acting...really...” God, it was easier in your head but you couldn’t get the words out. 

“Annoying?” He interrupted your thoughts. Your head snapped up immediately.

“What? No! I mean you’ve been-”

“Bothering you?” He interrupted again. This time you could see the red fading away with streaks of blue taking over all of his locks. Great, exactly what you didn’t want to happen was happening. 

“No!” You used both of your hands to grab his face, making him look directly into your eyes. You were about to say something else before he beat you to it. 

“I’m nothing like your exes?” He huffed out. What? What was he talking about, you thought. His eyes looked away while you still stared. 

“I-where did that come from?” You asked. He still didn’t look at you, his hair now completely blue. You two sat like that for a moment. You didn’t want to push too hard and scare him away, so you waited. 

“It’s just...” He started. You could see he was hesitant. You moved your hands down to his own, squeezing them, showing him that you were willing to listen. “Look, babes. This whole thing we’ve got going on, you being a human and me being a demon. It’s not every day that happens and...it gets me thinking, y’know.” 

“Thinking about what?” You pushed, convincing him to continue. You felt him squeeze your hands, just like you did before. 

“You’re alive. You live an actual life. And you had a life before I came along and sometimes I think I don’t...fit in anywhere.” You were so shocked by his words that you couldn’t speak. With your silence, Beetlejuice added more. 

“I got mad because I started thinking about all the things you might’ve had with your exes. All the things you could relate to with them, and not me. It made me feel…” You could see what he was trying to say without actually wanting to say it. 

Jealous, envious, insecure even. But it didn’t make sense to you. You always knew Beetlejuice had a desire to be alive but you didn’t think it was this bad. Especially when you knew being alive wasn’t really worth the hype. You found everything Beej has told you about the afterlife to be WAY more interesting. But now was not the time for that. You took a second to think before speaking again. 

“Listen, B. You should never compare old relationships to a current one. They ended for a reason. Trying to ‘do better’ and stressing out over it is only gonna drive you crazier than you already are.” You grinned. Although he wasn’t looking at you, Beej matched your grin and chuckled at your comment. You continued. 

“All my exes are assholes that didn’t deserve me. Whatever happened with them is irrelevant. And you being a demon is just as much irrelevant. Being what you are doesn’t make you any less deserving to be here. You’re here because I want you here. I love-” You stopped yourself just in time. Beetlejuice blinked while you fumbled to come with a save for yourself. “-having you here. You know that.” 

You wanted to focus on making Beetlejuice feel better. Not confessing your strong feels that quickly turned to love just within a few months of him being around. You could only assume he didn’t catch your staggering as his face turned gentle while strands of pink appeared within the blue. 

“Really?” He asked, his scratchy voice appearing quiet. As if you would take it back when he questioned it. You smiled fondly, moving your hands back to his face. Although all of him was rough, you held his cheeks as if they were made of glass. 

“Yes.” You answered simply. The look on his face made your heart feel warm. “I can’t tell you how to feel, but I can tell you that I’m not gonna let your bad thoughts mess with what we have. Got it?” 

Any other day, Beetlejuice would’ve knocked down your dominant attitude with his harmless teasing, but he decided to let you have it. Giving you a wide grin, he nodded his head. Now that you’d gotten the response you wanted, you motioned him down so that you two could cuddle. Beej would never admit it, but he loved the intimate gesture. He loved holding you in his arms with the assurance that you would never leave. You two layed there for only five minutes before you noticed Beej’s uncomfortable squirming. You could tell he was trying to convince himself to say something else. 

“H-hey...uh, babes.” You heard him stammer behind you. You turned your head towards him slightly. 

“Yeah, B?” 

“Is, um, is it...y’know?” He stammered again. 

You didn’t want to interrupt him too quickly. So you touched one of the hands resting on your stomach, hoping it would calm him down. “Is it okay, if we...switch?” 

You already knew what he meant without needing any explanation. Despite his over-the-top nature, you always knew Beej had a soft side. There were plenty of times when smalle gestures like hand holding, leaning on his shoulder, or especially cuddling, that would make him lose his rough and tough demeanor. There were plenty of times when you would end up being the big spoon for Beej without realizing. Times when you fell asleep next to him, he would wiggle his way between your arms. When you woke up, he’d looked like he was on cloud nine. So this wasn’t really a surprise. It was surprising because he asked. 

Without giving him a vocal response, you turned all the way around. You gave a small smile before using your hands to turn him around as well. Once his back was towards you, your arms snaked their way around his stomach, mimicking the way he would always hold you. That’s when his hands moved on top of yours. 

“Thanks, doll.” He mumbled, trying to hide the genuine satisfied tone in his voice. 

You only responded with a kiss against his back. You would’ve laid your head down before feeling him shiver in your arms. Kissing his back again, you felt him loosen in your hold and let out a calmed sigh. There were times Beetlejuice made himself too easy to read. You spent almost the whole night pulling him harder into your grasp while also kissing him on his neck and back. There was no telling who enjoyed it more between you two. All you know is that when you woke up in the morning, you were back in your original position. Beetlejuice holding you, with no intentions of ever letting go.

Don’t ask me why this took me so long, but I hope you guys enjoyed. Thanks for reading and don’t forget that BLACK LIVES MATTER✊🏽✊🏾✊🏿

[jemmydoolz]

Edgar Has Always Been Kind of a Bitch

hi okay so it's a little after midnight but I'm posting a fic rn bc it's the first fic I've written in like,, a yr and a half and also I'm rlly excited abt it??

anyway battle buddies/fahc jeremwood angst based on ramblings in a gc

(warning for minor assault implications at the beginning, and brief mentions of a suicide attempt at the end)!!!

Fiona and Gavin decide that what Jeremy needs is a night of bevs, and, to put it simply, get wasted, so the crew settles on going to a club that Friday. Jeremy only has one or two drinks, but boy does he get fucked up.

Ryan’s sitting and talking with Geoff and Jack in a booth, sipping a diet coke. He looks over Jack’s shoulder to see Jeremy standing at the bar with a much taller, more intimidating man looming over him. The guy reaches out toward Jeremy, who leans away from the touch. Jeremy nervously laughs and his eyes frantically dart around for someone, anyone who might be able to help him.

“Hello? Earth to Ryan?” Jack waves her hand in front of Ryan’s face.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah. sorry. Hey, um, I’m gonna go home, I’m just not really feeling great,” Ryan murmurs as he slides out of the booth, already heading toward Jeremy.

“Um, alright, I guess? Drive safe,” Jack calls after him.

Ryan speeds up when he sees the man grab Jeremy’s arm. Jeremy’s face flipped through a thousand emotions at once when he saw Ryan approaching, but eventually landed on confused but grateful. He gave Jeremy a look that said just go with what I’m about to say.

“Hey, babe,” Ryan says. The man immediately drops his grip on Jeremy’s arm. Jeremy does his best not to choke on his own spit when he hears the word babe come out of Ryan’s mouth. He hadn’t heard it in so long, and he didn’t think it would still hurt so much.

“Oh, hey!” Jeremy turns to Ryan and reaches up to peck him on the lips. “Where’d Edgar go? It’s his birthday, I figured he would wanna hang out with his friends!”

Fuck. Mentioning something about their friend ‘Edgar’ was always code for I don’t feel good about this, let’s leave. Edgar’s birthday meant I’m having a panic attack, I need your help. Ryan wanted to punch the guy that was practically feeling Jeremy up. No—he wanted to fucking kill that bastard. He and Jeremy may have had a severe falling out, they may have suffered years of heartache and longing, but he still felt responsible to make sure Jeremy was safe.

“He said he kinda wanted to go home. He went to the bathroom while I found you. You, uh, just about ready?” Ryan’s eyes flitted between Jeremy and the other man, who cleared his throat and mumbled something about needing to go find his friends before walking off.

Jeremy and Ryan both sigh in relief once he’s gone.

“Wanna head outside for some fresh air for a minute?” Ryan asks, getting a meek, obviously shaken-up nod in return.

Jeremy says something that Ryan can’t quite hear over the music as they walk outside.

“Hm?”

“Oh, nothing. It was dumb.” Jeremy shakes his head. Ryan has had enough experience to know that it was better to just leave it alone. They both wordlessly come to a stop and lean against the wall of the building a few yards from the door. Almost as if they had been working as partners for years. They spend a few minutes saying nothing, watching people on the street, looking at the stars in the sky. Ryan can’t help but study the intricacies of Jeremy, realizing that so many things have changed, but somehow almost nothing about him is different. Jeremy’s hair is just a tad bit more grown out than it ever was at the agency (also, it’s bright purple and orange, which is not exactly the most appealing color combination, but that’s a topic for another day), but he still runs his hands through it when he’s lost in thought. It’s curlier than it used to be, but maybe that’s just because it’s longer. He still clenches his jaw so hard it seems like he’s going to break his teeth when he’s scared. He still wears a tank top under his shirt, no matter how hot it is outside. His eyes still crinkle at the corners when he lets out a bark of laughter that Ryan still swears up and down sounds exactly like a squeaky toy. He’s changed, though. Ryan can see in his eyes that he’s become aware of reality. He knows the responsibility he carries, the heavy consequences that come with his actions, that death is around the corner at every moment.

“D’you- d’you want me to take you home?” Ryan says barely above a whisper, but loud enough for Jeremy to hear. “You can go back inside if you want, but I know you always used to want to go home and be alone after Edgar shows up.” Jeremy lets out the tiniest breathy chuckle.

“Edgar has always been kind of a bitch, hasn’t he?” Jeremy says as he looks away from the sky to meet Ryan’s gaze, and his heart falls apart all over again for the thousandth time. That fond look of reminiscence and joy was one Ryan donned frequently at the agency. “I- Yeah. yeah. I’d really appreciate a ride home. I’m just a little too drunk to drive, I think.”

“Alright. I parked just down the street. Penthouse or your apartment?” Ryan hadn’t even noticed that Jeremy did seem somewhat tipsy; his Boston accent slipping in occasionally and his words slurring the tiniest bit.

“Um, apartment,” Jeremy says. “D’you rem-”

“Yes, I remember where your apartment is, Jeremy.”

It’s only a few minutes into the drive to the other side of town when Jeremy pipes up. “I honestly didn’t really expect you to help me. I didn’t expect you to remember Edgar, either. I dunno why I said it, I guess just vaguely hoping you would even though it’s been, what, three years?” he pauses for a moment and just takes in Ryan's profile. “I always hope you remember things from then. I know it went to shit, but we still had so much fun. We made so many memories and did so much dumb shit there. But I’m glad that stupid fuckin’ place collapsed. All of it was complete bullshit. I just wish it all fell apart before we did.”

Ryan doesn’t know how to respond. So he doesn’t.

“All those meetings I had to stay late for? Fuckin’ useless. They served no purpose, and I don't know why I was forced to go to them. I feel like the only reason I had to go to those meetings was because someone was hiding something from me. It was obvious that so many things were kept from us.” Jeremy stops for a second to try to will away the lump rising in his throat. “I thought you were cheating on me. For the longest time. I still don’t know whether you actually were. You were always out on ‘special missions’ and shit.”

The moment Ryan hears Jeremy let out a shaky breath his heart breaks.

“Was it me? Was I not good enough? I promise I tried my hardest to be what you needed. I’m sorry if I wasn’t. All I wanted was the best for you, Ryan. Even now, I just want you to be happy. If you're happier with someone else, then that’s what I want. I don’t blame you, though. I don’t deserve someone like you. You deserve so much better than me. I would do anything for you, Rye. We were together for so long. We did everything together! I thought I was gonna marry you. I was saving up money to get a ring. I guess I was too stupid to see that you didn’t want me anymore.”

Ryan looks over to see the tears staining Jeremy’s cheeks reflecting the soft orange glow of the streetlamps. Is this really what Jeremy thinks?

“I was so in love with you, Ryan Haywood. I’m- I’m still in love with you. I love you so goddamn much it hurts sometimes. Every time I see you hurt, upset, angry, anything other than healthy and happy my heart aches. I’m sorry I wasn't enough. I promise I tried. Fuck, I tried so hard.”

With every sob Jeremy lets out, Ryan's heart breaks just a little bit more. The short distance left until Ryan pulls up to Jeremy’s apartment building is spent wordlessly. Jeremy’s clambering out of the car and reaching to grab the door when Ryan speaks.

“Hey, Jer, do you want me to walk you up? I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

“No. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I’ve already been a pain in your ass tonight, I don't need to waste even more of your time. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about everything.” Jeremy sniffles and wipes his cheeks, giving a half-hearted smile before shutting the door and walking away.

Ryan sits there for a second, unable to process fully what he just heard. He starts driving without even knowing where he was going, and he’s so lost in his thoughts that suddenly he’s sitting in his car in front of the boardwalk along the beach and crying. He can’t believe anything he was just told—there is no way in hell that the brilliant, witty, talented Jeremy Dooley ever doubts his worth. It’s jarring to think that part of it was because of Ryan. He was going on extra missions because the agency was growing more and more demanding. For months they tormented Ryan with the threat of kicking out Jeremy. They said they’d do other things to him that Ryan doesn’t want to remember. Why did Jeremy never bring it up? Why did he just accept that Ryan had ‘moved on?’ Their lives were so intertwined with one another that Ryan never felt truly whole again. The only reason Ryan went with the break up was that he saw how distant and cold Jeremy had gotten. Ryan had assumed that, for whatever reason, Jeremy had changed his mind. He hated it, he was devastated, but he didn't know how to fix it.

Ryan decides he doesn’t want to go back to the penthouse tonight. He pulls up to the nearest crew safehouse, and suddenly things click.

Jeremy had always struggled with bad self-image and depression. He had gone to Ryan for comfort, which he was always more than willing to give. Jeremy was doing better. At least he told Ryan he was.

Jack had mentioned a while ago that when Jeremy first joined the crew, she had found him after a suicide attempt and barely left his side until he recovered. The only reason for it Jack had told Ryan about was ‘emotional trauma from a past relationship, that he didn’t really want to talk about.’

Ryan did that to him.

Ryan did that to him.

Ryan made the love of his life want to die.

The pieces left of his heart fall into more shards than there are grains of sand in this world.

He collapses onto the couch inside, too exhausted to even get to the bed. He knows he’s not going to be able to sleep, though.

To: Geoff

Dropped Jeremy off at his place, he was pretty drunk though so check on him please

To: Geoff

I’m staying at kung fu safehouse for the night

[kpopisthereasonihavenolife]

Dandelion

BTS

Park Jimin/Reader [F]

Genre: College AU, Enemies->Friends->Lovers, Fluff

Warning(s?): Mentions of Drinking/Smoking, Jimin’s Tattoo

Words: 9.7k

Summary: Park Jimin was a hot topic name floating around campus on the daily.  Always seen with a girl at his hip with a different girl on his thigh just a few days later.  Rumor has it he’s never had a fling with one girl lasting longer than a week.  With your gossip-addicted best friend and his friendship with Jimin, Jimin comes to learn about you.  A week isn’t so hard sticking around one girl, the hardest part is when day 7 stars approaching. So, he decides he wants to make a wish instead. Wishing on a dandelion has to work. 

a/n: this is sloppy bc I did it all in one sitting and I apologize

“I heard Jimin broke up with his girlfriend!”  The first thing you were greeted with at lunchtime and it was your overly excited, sparkly-eyed best friend.  He was always the one to get any and all gossip he could just because he wanted to be part of the circle of gaudy gossip.  You could care less about half the bull that comes out of his mouth.

“And why would I care?  What, is it his longest lasting relationship or something.  Wow, 5 days with the same chick, whoop-dee-doo.”  You slid into a cafeteria, blue chair unloading the tray filled with two wrapped chicken sandwiches and a styrofoam bowl of strawberries.  

“Oh come on, you can’t deny that it’s odd.  There’s talk about him actually liking this one, maybe he’ll go back in for a double dip.”  

You gagged.  “Eugh, can’t you go and tatter off to your other friends?  I don’t wanna hear anything about Jimin’s sex life, Jackson.”

Jackson slumped over in the seat next to you as he sighed dramatically into the air. He would always act like you just kicked over a tower of legos he spent 4 hours building whenever you would blatantly refuse to care about his gossip. It was no surprise that Jackson knew all the haps of anything ever.  He was a people person, who knew everyone ever it seemed.

If you called some random number over in LA, you had no doubt if you mentioned Jackson, they would answer back ‘oh, yeah I know him!’.  He’s been everywhere and you were always curious as to why.  He wasn’t a homebody by any stretch.  

“I can’t talk to other people about his hips girl, all because they’ve all been with him before.  You- albeit- haven’t! So, I can talk to you about him with a clean slate honey.”

“That reasoning and your stupid use of pet names have no correlation of why I need to hear it and I’ve also revoked your drunk stay over privilege until next Monday.”

Jackson gapped at you.

“Your couch is my drunk home! Don’t evict me you, she-devil!” He whapped at your shoulder and swapped right back to the topic at hand.  “Besides, I’m his friend, why aren’t you?”

“Do you really have to ask?  He doesn’t know I exist for one and I’d like to keep it that way.  All he’s gonna do is try and wedge his half-dollar-coin-sized dick between my legs.”

“Sometimes, you really do need to get laid.”

“If you don't think I won’t knee him in the balls if he comes even within a 4-foot radius of me, you’re wrong.”

Sensing the conversation die, Jackson finally moved onto a different topic altogether.  Even if the topic shifted from Jimin, the conversation he yapped your off about how unsanitary the school campuses bathroom is, was still far from welcome.

Munching on your food, and nearly finished Jackson stopped his yammering when someone clapped his shoulder.  Looking over his shoulder, he busted out into laughter at the irony as you could see their figure in the corner of your eyes.  Only offering a small and short eyeroll.

Park Jimin stood behind Jackson, his hand on his hip with a pair of shades and a beanie on his blonde head. His leather jacket covered his yellow flannel that hid his white tee with his jeans that were ripped at the thigh.  His biker boots were worn and frankly needed some care to them.

You remain unbothered and silent as the two began to speak to another.

“I was told to pass along the message,” Jimin said as he held out a small scrap of folded paper.  Taking it with a pluck, Jackson flipped it open and scanned the words written along it.  

“Right on, right on. Whose place is this one at?”

“Jin’s setting us up.”  Jackson whistled with a smirk.

“Of course.  Mr. Connections, always pulling through.”

Jimin nodded, Seokjin always had connections.  Be it with a house to throw parties or what flower shop to go to when your little 3-year-old niece wants a bouquet of daisies for her birthday. He always had a go-to.  Perks of being a rich kid who knew any and everyone with the social skills to back you up.  You’ve even asked him once if he knew a place in town that sold old, used textbooks. He was cocky about it, but at least he gave you an answer and a promise to save some money.

“Friday at 8.  Don’t forget like last time and show up at 3 when everyone is already passed out or getting fucked in a room, yeah?” Jimin quipped with a smirk on his face.  Jackson only rolled his eyes as he swiveled around to you, shoving the paper in your face as you popped a strawberry in your mouth.

Reading the words in sloppy handwriting, it looked like a kindergartner wrote it.  It just showed a location, a time and date.  Probably all the for party that you assumed to two were fawning over.  You shifted your eyes to look over the paper into Jackson’s face.  A gleam in his eyes and a smile on his face.  Far too suspicious.

“Why am I looking at this?”

“You’ve gotta come with me!”  You rolled your eyes as slapped the top of his hand, making him retracted it and rub at the skin with a pout. “Rude,” he muttered.

“If you think I’d enjoy being in a loud, sweaty, drunken club with all your frat friends looking for a night less than 20$ and 5 shots, you really need to revoke your friendship with me. I’d rather stare directly into a high voltage flashlight for 2 hours and go blind, thanks.”

You popped another strawberry into your mouth as Jackson laid his head down on the table and looked at you.  Lips pouted and eyelashes fluttering like a damsel in distress.  

“Please?”

“Not happening.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Jackson!”

“Okay okay,” he reasoned before he sat up and snapped his fingers.  A stupid plan forming in his head, you could feel it. “How about it’ll be a favor for me?  I’ll owe you one!” You sighed as you rubbed your forehead.  He was such a headache.  “Please, I won’t ask anything more for the rest of the month plus I’ll even owe you a favor.  Any favor, you know I'm down for anything.”

“So long as it doesn’t end up with you sitting in a holding cell?” You quipped with a smile as you remember back in high school he was running around town, causing all sorts of trouble with beer on his brain instead of logic.

“That was a long time ago! Let it die!” He whined.

As the two of you bickered, the both of you had failed to register Jimin still stood at the table.  Jimin knew a lot of the student body, even if the campus and college were diverse and huge.  Though, he hadn’t seen you before.  Arguing with Jackson about not wanting to come to a world-class frat party was amusing enough.  The fact that you seemed to know Jackson already, only made it better.  You probably had so much dirt on him it was laughable.

You seemed stubborn, probably annoyingly so.  He moved to rest his rear on the table top, lounging with one leg propped up as he watched you two.  He wasn’t needed here, he wasn’t required to stay and listen in on a conversation that had literally nothing to do with him.

Yet, he was intrigued all the same.  Then, you noticed him.

You peeked around Jackson as you threw the last strawberry from your bowl into your mouth, the red from the fruit staining your lips in a way he wanted to forget, but somehow knew he wouldn’t.  

“Can we help you?” You asked in a spiteful manner.  He lifted his hands in defense.

“Oh no, carry on.  This is fun,” he replied as you rolled your eyes.  “Besides,” he started again, “it’s just a party.  There’s nothing wrong with that.”  

“Some of us have other things to do believe it or not.  Maybe I’m not into alcohol, or maybe I’m just not a party person.  Ever think of that genius?”

He hissed in a playful manner, dramatically clutching his chest.  

“That stings.  And to think I was inviting you.”

“No, Jackson was inviting me.”

“But, I invited him.  So through correlation, I am the mastermind.”

“Oh my god,” you sighed as Jackson bit his lip in amusement. He knew Jimin had no idea who you were, yet he was chatting you up like you’ve been talking for a week.  “I don’t really want to take an invite from some rando guy who hops from girl to girl like frogs from lily pads.  Please shut up.”  

Before anything else, you looked at the watch face on your wrist and pushed out your chair.  Loading the tray with your trash and empty strawberry-stained bowl, you slung your bag over your shoulder. Jackson stood up as well, taking the tray from you as you huffed.  

“I’ll take your trash,” he kindly said.  It was suspicious once again, but you’d allow it.  “You’re going to work on your camera right?  Didn’t you get a new one?” You nodded.

“I did.  I was going to go back to the dorms and fiddle with it.  I don’t have another lecture until 4, so I can afford some practice photos.” He nodded.

“Make sure to take a photo of a dandelion and show it to me first!”

“What if I wanted to show my roommate?”

“You know she won’t be there.  She’s always out late.”

“You’re right,” you added with a playful smirk.  She worked late and after that, she always had something to do. It was a good night when she came sauntering into the dorm at 2 AM.  

“Go on, shoo you, little photographer, you.” You shook your head with a chuckle and began to walk off.  Swerving around chairs and people, you plugged your headphones into your phone and placed your sound muffling cuffs over your head and toned out the world.  Leaving the cafeteria, the school and then to the campus grounds.  

Jackson as he said, dealt with your trash as Jimin hopped up from his seat on the table top and meandered his way back through the cafeteria to his mob of friends.  All talking about one thing or another.  

All Jimin could think about as he drummed his fingers on his arms was how to convince you to come to the party on Friday. He had something he wanted to know about and, quite frankly, he felt like you inadvertently challenged him.  So, of course, he had to prove a point now.  

Having someone banging on your door Friday evening at 6 PM was something you surely didn’t want to deal with. Already cozy with one of your old hoodies and a pair of shorts with your hair a damp mess from your shower earlier on, you were lounging on your couch flipping through TV channels utterly bored.

Jackson had spammed you with text after text trying to convince you to come to the party.  He tried every bribe in the book, but you just would not yield.  You only assumed that Jackson was the one pounding down your dorm door, but when it didn’t stop and your phone never chimed with a text to let him in, you grew curious.  

Growing tired of the constant bangs that didn’t seem to stop anytime soon, you rolled off the couch and stomped to the door, swinging it open without even peeking through the peephole who is inside.  Ready to be met with your best friend's face, yet not so.

“What the hell?” You whispered to yourself.  There, in front of you and your dorm room who just shoved his way past your shoulder to saunter inside was Park Jimin himself. “Um, excuse me?”

He, with his hands shoved into the pockets of his mint green windbreaker, turned to you with his tousled blonde hair and dark eyes.  “Yes?”

“Get the hell out?” You questioned as you motioned to the door.  He untucked his hands as he cupped his chin and puckered his mouth and crinkled his chin in a false thought motion.  He was already trying your patience.

“I think I’m good. Thanks for the offer though!” You groaned as you begrudgingly shut your door, glad for once that your roommate never comes back until way later than 6PM.  When you waltzed back into your living room, Jimin had made himself comfortable on your couch with your TV remote like he lived here.  You were offended, obviously so.

You stood in the doorway of the room as Jimin waved you over as you took skeptic steps towards him and sat on the far end of the couch.  Clear away from his grabby fingers that probably need a sanitize or two.

“I don’t bite you know,” he chuckled as he dug his phone from his pocket.  He opened his messages and you watched his thumbs drum away on the screen.  Messaging, hitting send, opening a new conversation and repeat.  How many friends did he have?  “We’ll leave in an hour.”  He said without batting an eye.

“Excuse me?”

“Jin’s party? We’re going.” Who did this man think he is?!

“Says who?!  I’m not going, I’m pretty sure I made that obvious before. You were eavesdropping so you know this mind you.”

“I wasn’t eavesdropping, I was just listening.  It’s not like I was hiding behind a wall and listening in while you and Jackson bitch back and forth.  Which is funny, by the by.” He dropped his phone into his lap as he hiked his arm up on the back of the couch, looking at you, your knees pulled to your chest with your feet on the couch cushion.  “You’re actually quite cute.”

You quickly jumped up and sat perched on the arm of your couch, pointing a finger at him as you opened your mouth and furrowed your brows.

“Ah-ha! I knew it!”

“Knew what?”

“You’re just a sleazy, shady, horny college frat boy who is just following me around because you don’t know me!” Jimin offered an annoyed eye roll, his eyes sticking up to his eyelids before he looked back down with a snarky grin. “I’ve heard your resume from Jackson, and I know better than to throw myself at you.”

“Oh, so you know about me?  Well, that’s unfair as I know nothing about you.”

“In fact, come any closer and I’ll punch you in your stupid face.”  Jimin just shook his head as he huffed out through his slightly parted lips.  He watched as you sat perched on the arm of your couch like some sort of bird of prey, practically hissing at him. You had obviously heard all the rumors from Jackson, most of which are probably true.  Most.  Not all of them are true though, however, he won't deny that he couldn't count the numbers of girls he's 'dated' on his fingers and toes combined.

"You know, I'm not all that bad.  I'm not gonna just get you drunk and pull some cheap trick on you like some jock would." He slid his phone into his windbreaker pocket.  "How about we compromise."

"Sounds sketchy," you reply without missing a beat.

"Now, now, hear me out.  I can tell you don't like me much," you interrupted him with a sarcastic 'oh really' before he continued talking over you, "but I'm not so much as a horn dog as I am something willing to give someone something they want.  I'm not into sex if it's not consensual, so don't worry about me making any moves on you."  He spoke like he was being truthful, but you still weren't a hundred percent certain you could take his words at face value.  He sighed, "look, if you go with me, we don't have to stay the whole time," he tacked on.

"We? Makes it sound like you're expected me to tail you all night."

"Not exactly, I will be hanging around you though.  Jackson said parties aren't your scene, and I absolutely know that if you had the option, you'd be a wallflower all night." You squinted at him as you held your pinkie towards him.  He looked at it with ticked brows then back to you.  "And this is?"

"A pinkie finger," you answered.

"No shit genius, why are you sticking it in my face?"

"Oh please, it's like you don't know what a pinky promise is."  You rolled your eyes.  "I'll go to the stupid party if, and only if, you stick to your word and not abandon me to flounder on my own because I'm actually a big wimp and I will cry and I will cause a scene otherwise."

Jimin busted out laughing as he linked his pinky in yours.  Extending your thumb, you pressed it against the pad of his own and 'locked' in the promise.  Now he absolutely wasn't allowed to go back on his word.  Or else you'd probably throw a knife set at him.

Jimin shooed you off as you walked to your room, swaying and moaning the entire way before you shut it behind you.  So much for a boring, cozy night in.  For once, maybe you'd see your roommate if you weren't out all night.  You sighed as you sadly stripped out of your hoodie and shorts replacing them with skinny jeans with holey knees and a white shirt.  Fixing your messy hair and tying it back with a stretched out hair tie, you slipped on your worn out flats and grabbed your phone from the nightstand.

It was nothing glamorous, and you expected other girls to probably be dressed more... openly to put it nicely.  Though, you were only going because you were peer pressured into it, not to get laid and definitely not to get hit on.  If anyone even came close to you with a stupid, drunk pick up line, you're most likely to panic and flee the scene like you committed murder.

You sighed as you looked into your mirror.

"Why am I a pushover to some jerk who hardly knows me?"  Then, you gasped as you stomped your foot, finally registering that Jackson had blabbed to JImin about you. "That snake!!  I'm taking away his drunk couch privileges indefinitely!" All while Jimin sat on the couch in the living room, laughing to himself as you screamed at nothing and shot Jackson a text that you were coming with him to the party.

To say Jackson's reply back was overbearing was an understatement.  He acts like an idiot towards you, but the 'Don't you dare try anything with her, I swear to god,' text he received told him that the relationship you two have is more than just back and forth banter.

When Jimin's ears perked up at the sound of your door down the hall unlatching, he picked himself up off the couch and watched as you came back into the living room changed and much more party ready.  He let out a loud whistle as you adjusted your shirt, tucking it in and letting the boy see just the smallest sliver of your stomach and if he was being honest, it was more attractive than he thought it would be.

You were teasing him and you weren't even aware of it.  That was the most painful thing about you so far.  He cupped his chin as he looked at you.  Peeking up as you fumbled with getting your shirt just right, you caught him inspecting.

"What?" You bit.

"Something just seems, off?  Something is missing from this look."  He hummed as he walked around you.  The shirt was fine, the jeans were aesthetically pleasing and the small choker you hooked around your neck was a touch of college that worked wonderfully with the outfit in question.  He came back to your front as he scrunched his eyes and then shot them open with a snap and a small ah-ha moment. "I know! You need a jacket!"

"Why?"

"Because it's a staple in fashion to have a jacket with a look so simple.  Your shirt and jeans combo with a flare of the choker is appealing, but a jacket always seals the deal!  Or, if it's too hot than settle for a cardigan."

"What are you, a fashion guru?"

"No, but I do take a high deal of pride in my fashion sense."  You rolled your eyes as you crossed your arms.  Why white?  It was almost too transparent, your stupid yellow star printed bra was just barely visible in the bright lights of the living room.  Surely it'd be fine at the party, it'll be dark in the house, save for the random rave lights that Jin is bound to have.  He goes all out when it's his party.

"And I assume you'll want this jacket to be black?" He nodded, it would be just wrong to have a white jacket over a white shirt.  It would clash too much.  "Too bad, I don't have one.  I have a grey one?" He shook his head.

"Nope.  Monochromatic is good, but not with this look.  Black is the only option.  Ah, you know what, I have something at my house I could lend you.  It'd so perfect with you!"  He smiled as he grabbed your wrist.  "Come on, I live 10 minutes off campus.  We've no time to waste!"  He whined as he dragged you through the dorm and eventually out the door.

Soon, within the next hour, you found yourself climbing off of his motorcycle- that nearly frightened you to death with him as the driver- in his leather jacket outside a house too big to be real and almost envy-inducing.

The house was two stories and looked like a widened stock photo with how wide it was.  All the window shades were open and lights of blues, reds, purples flickered in uneven patterns through them.  The music was just bass boosted enough you could feel it in your feet when Jimin marched you both up the patio and through the door.  It was like walking into a speaker the way your body met with all the heat, lights and loud music.

You couldn't hear yourself think as you weaved through people, behind their backs and gasping when you nearly ran into a couple more than ready to take their lip lock elsewhere.  You shrunk in on yourself as you stumbled around before Jimin took your wrist again.

"Come on," he leaned closer to you and spoke loud enough you could hear him.  Letting him drag you off somewhere, he quite rudely pushed people away and maneuvered through the crowds of drunk college kids. He was definitely used to this- the way he moved through the masses was a clear indication of that.

Soon he had pulled you into the kitchen where it was much less crowded than you figured it would be.  You would think since all the liquid was stored here, it would be a madhouse, but only a few bodies stood around sipping from the typical red cup with rosey, drunken cheeks.  The music had dulled back in the kitchen, so a conversation wasn't totally out of the question.  You placed your hand on your chest and sighed at the room to actually breathe.

Jimin, beside you, chuckled as he rubbed your back between your shoulder blades.

"you really aren't cut out for tight spaces, doll."  You glared at him.

"Oh, so you just now realize that you moron?" He only chuckled as he whipped out his phone and sent a text to someone.  Just one text, as opposed to an hours earlier when he was texting anyone and everyone nonstop in sequence.

No soon was Jackson waltzing into the kitchen.  JImin watched as you seemed to lighten up at the face of someone so familiar to you.  Jackson sauntered out with a smile, nearly jogging at he bumped into your side with his own.  Wearing a snapback and some jersey with a pair of old, acid washed jeans, he looked like a jock ripped straight out of some gross teen-movie.

His breath stunk of booze, but he was still partially sober.  He could hold his alcohol better than you thought he could, to be honest. You pushed away his cheek that was far too close to your face to get the radiant smell of beer away from your nose.

"you're gross and smell, get away from me you sweaty-"

"Do not insult me when I know for a fact you're so ready to shit bricks."

You gaped at him as you smacked the back of his head, making him whine and wince as he rubbed it.  Sure you were nervous being here, but you weren't that nervous.  You crossed your arms as you pouted, Jimin once again finding a sense of adorableness between you and Jackson's interactions.

"I hate you," you muttered as Jackson feigned hurt.  He dropped his act as he playfully slapped your ass, making you squeak before he turned to Jimin.

"How'd you get Straight-Lace-Y/n out of her room on a Friday my man?  I gotta know, for future reference of course."

"You would never believe how easy she is to persuade if you say the right things."  Jackson gasped.

"You didn't make some sketchy deal did you?!"  You squawked as Jackson quickly pulled you against his chest, nearly knocking you over in his haste as he practically hissed as Jimin.  "Don't be touching my little Y/n! She's way too young!"  You whined.

"I'm only a few years younger than you!"  Jimin didn't know how old you were exactly, but if you were younger than Jackson, you were around his age then?  Jimin just shook his head as he slipped his thumbs through the front belt loops of his pants, leaning back just enough for it to almost be attractive.  Almost.

"I won't disclose our agreement with someone who didn't witness it.  Clients secrecy."

"Stop!" You grumbled.  "That makes it seem so bad!"  Jimin laughed as the three of you soon took to sticking in your little group and chatting.  Jimin had finally got you to loosen up enough to at least have one cup of something to drink.  Beer wasn't typically your thing, but after not being impressed with the rest of the liquor lineup, it wasn't so bad in comparison.

Eventually, you seemed to even start enjoying yourself.  Playfully quipping at anything Jackson or Jimin had to say and even smiling or laughing at some dumbass joke that came out of one of their mouths. Jimin laid off the alcohol for the most part, as he was your ride home and he may be wild, but drunk driving is definitely not his main game.

Soon, Jackson abandoned ship and Jimin had begun to wander around and meet of people he knew, all while you remain attached at his side with his hand over yours.  True to his word, he never once left you on your own the whole night and when Jimin finally suggested you go back to your dorm it was well past midnight.  You didn't want to stay out this late, but you weren't particularly fussed about it either.

Weaving back around passed out drunks, far too attached couples and still dancing troopers, Jimin and you ended up back outside and across the lawn to his motorcycle where it had sat parked all night.

As he placed his helmet on his head and climbed on, you followed he flipped up his visor to look at you.

"It wasn't so bad, now was it?" His muffled voice asked.  You rolled your eyes, hating to admit that anything Park Jimin did for you was actually enjoyable unlike you previously thought.

"It wasn't awful, but don't expect this to happen a second time, Park." After dropping you off and making sure you got into your room safe and sound at ten after 1AM, he drove back home.  He lived in an apartment off campus, well off enough to afford it before he needed to get back into the part-time job department of life.

Stripping free of his party clothes and swapping them out for sweats and a thin, stretched out grey shirt, he flopped onto his bed.  Realizing two things. One, you still had his leather jacket and two, he hadn't stopped smiling since you wrapped your arms around his waist on the way back to your home.

You were rudely awoken the next morning at 10AM with your phone that blared for the 4th time beside your head.  Groaning, you grabbed the stupid piece of screaming plastic that continued to ring and finally looked at the screen.  Though it was sunny outside, your blackout curtains in your room made sure to keep that pesky sunlight out, so the screen brightness did little to no good on your retinas.  

Unknown Calling…

You squinted at your screen.  Who was calling you? Sighing, as soon as the call dropped for the 4th time, you noticed that the same number had been the same one to call previously.  Rolling lazily onto your chest, your blankets tangling around your legs as your you felt your hair tangled around your neck and around your ears.  You stared at the black screen of your phone, as you were testing a hypothesis. True to your suspicious, the screen lit up as your ringtone blasted for the 5th time.  

Answering it seemed to be your only option at this point.  Five back to back calls was way too excessive to be some random coincidence. Swiping to answer it, you pushed your hair out of the way and placed your phone by your ear.

“Hello?” You answered the best you could with sleep still thick in your voice.  

“Your sleep schedule is awful.  It’s been like, what? Nine hours and your ass in still in bed?” You groaned as you flopped onto your back.

“How did you get my number, Jimin?”

“Take a wild guess?” He teased.  Obviously, it was Jackson.  You muttered a ‘snake’ under your breath as Jimin chuckled into the line.  “Get up, we’re going out.”  You blinked at your dark ceiling.  

“And if I said no?”

“Then I’ll come bang on your dorm door again. I’m already sitting outside the campus dorms.  It’s not too long of a trip up the stairs Y/n.”  You groaned again knowing full well that Jimin absolutely meant it.  “No?”

“Fine, give me like 15 minutes.”

“15?!”

“Don’t push me,” you cut as you hung up on him. Tossing your phone aside,  you crawled out of bed with a whine as you wobbled around your room, trying to wake up enough to wash your face before getting dressed.  

Jimin stood at the curb of the dormitory, leaning against a light pole.  He watched as you cut the call off and your number faded from his phone screen.  Shaking his head, he pocketed his phone as he took a breath out.  Part of him was wondering what he was doing?

He could’ve made other plans today, but he didn’t.  Rather, he didn’t want to.  He fell asleep with you on the brain and woke up the same exact way.  After texting Jackson all morning, trying to pry information out of him and successfully doing so with the promise of a week’s worth of lunch on him, he finally got your number out of him too.  So, the calling began.  

He was rather shocked it only took 5 calls to wake you up.  He laughed to himself as he plucked his phone from his pocket and sent you a text before you came down.  

Jimin: Bring my jacket back, I miss it. :((

He laughed out loud when you shot back nothing but the middle finger emoji.  What a highschooler move.  It was chilly out today.  The clouds kept hiding the sun as they rolled under the light, only letting brief spots of warmth out at a time.  A small breeze was in the air as Spring had just begun with the promise of rain in the afternoon no doubt.  

His blue jeans and hot pink hoodie stood out, yes, but he was proud of that fact. His hair free of a cap lifted with each small gust of wind.  It was exactly 17 minutes when he saw you walking out of the dormitory, a red flannel purse on your hip. His jacket on your shoulders with a black shirt with the picture of a cat on the breast pocket and a pair of blue shorts.  Your hair was down, without anything covering or added to it.  

Part of him didn’t want the jacket back now.

When you got to him, the first thing you did was greet him with a harsh stomp on his foot with your shoes.  He whined as his thin converses did nothing to guard his foot against your heel.

“What was that for?!”

“Calling me five times and then proceeding to force me out of my dorm on a Saturday!”  You argued as you huffed and crossed your arms. “As punishment for stealing my lazy day, I’m keeping your jacket until I return home.”  He grinned, he wasn’t totally against that.  

“Have it your way,” he was easy to give him.

“What did you want anyway?”  He stood back up and swayed to your side.

“A week.”

“Pardon?”

“A little birdie told me that you can’t believe I can go a week with one person.  So, I’d be honored if you took me up on the challenge to so spitefully requested of me.” You shivered in mock disgusted.  “Hey!”

“Calm down, Queenie,” you teased with a grin of your own.  “I actually meant that towards all your flings, but sure.  If you think you can handle a week of me arguing leaving my room, by all means, give it a whirl.” Jimin looked at you with questions in his eyes.  “What now?”

“You gave in waaay too easy, Y/n.”  

“Yeah, well if I declined, I have a suspicion you’d whine to Jackson, who in turn would whine to me and I’m not really up for any more of that than I have to deal with on the daily.” He smiled as he pushed playfully on your shoulder, making you smile again.

“Look at you! Already guessing and knowing my habits.  We’re basically best friends already!”

“Don’t let Jackson hear you.  That will also result in whining.”

“Duly noted.”

Soon, Jimin had started walking around in random locations towards the city.  Something about wanting to window shop and making you come along with him.  You watched when he pulled out a Zippo lighter with a small, nearly empty pack of cigarettes directly off campus.  You rose your brow when you asked him about it.  He was a smoker, but he was in the middle of trying to quit.  He had slowed down from a pack in two days to only a few smokes in that time.  He wanted to pace himself until he cut them off completely.  Ht told you once this pack was done, he would try not to buy any more.

You then started offering him solutions to cravings.  Candies or small habits were a good way to get the urge to smoke off the brain.  Or, if he absolutely found himself not able to quit, e-cigarettes surely weren’t so bad.  Expensive, but not an awful half solution. He took your suggestions to heart, not actually expecting you to take that topic and run with it.  

He had snuffed out the bud when you both got closer to the shopping strip of stores after stores with a cafe on nearly every corner.  It was always busy during the weekend, and Jimin had a feeling you didn’t get to shop often.  The way you seemed to light up and become more bouncy at the idea of maybe actually getting something for yourself today was proof of that.

You both went to store after store with enough coffee breaks to power an engine.  Eventually, Jimin had walked into some indie store, more than curious about the odd patterns he saw in the display window.  You trailed after him, winding through aisles and stopped when you saw a small charm necklace.

The necklace itself wasn’t the best and the chain was weak enough that if you pulled just a bit too hard or it snagged in anything it would surely break. But, it wasn’t that which intrigued you.  It was the pendant itself.

It was a small dandelion. It’s small, metal puffs pushing out in the circle as it if you blew just hard enough the puffs would scatter. Jimin stopped when he noticed you weren’t tailing him anymore, turning to see you bent over and looking at it.  He backtracked to stand at your side, hands in his pockets as he observed it with you.

“You like this?”

You nodded.  “I do.  Dandelions are my favorite flower.  I don’t really like when they bloom into the yellow ones, Jackson used to pluck those and smear it’s pollen all over my arms when we met.  I do like the wish ones those.”

“Wish ones?”

“Yeah, the ones you make a wish on.  If you find one like this,” you poked at the necklace, “and you make a wish, you have to blow as hard as you can.  If you manage to get all the seeds to blow off, then your wish is supposed to come true.” You chuckled at yourself.  “It’s all fairy tale sounding, but you can’t deny its got its romantic side.”

“Huh, who knew an everyday weed is so meaningful to other people.”  You stood up as you huffed.  

“I’ve seen moms get mad at their kids for pulling dandelions and giving them to them as gifts.  They’re not weeds, so just accept them!”  You pouted as Jimin laughed.  You spun on your heel as you trotted off, Jimin watching your back as you disappeared behind some racks of clothing. He rolled his eyes at your dramatic march off as he stood up and followed you, not before grabbing the necklace though. 5$ isn’t too much to spend.

After he secretly purchased the necklace, he placed the small pouch it was in promptly into your purse when the two of you were at yet another cafe while you were in the bathroom.  Apparently, this specific cafe stop was for you to pee, as you had decided that a whole soliloquy about how your bladder was about to burst was absolutely necessary.  It wasn’t. When you returned, all you did two was chat like old friends who knew each other since you were in diapers.

Jimin wasn’t nearly as awful as you thought, and part of you felt guilty for judging him so quickly.  Sure, his reputation was a bit black, but the boy himself was a sweetheart, and you made sure to offer him an apology and a chocolate chip muffin as compensation for your rotten attitude.

Day by day went on and as classes rolled on, Jimin would walk you to and from class, pick you up from your dorm and drop you off and even bring you lunchtime coffee just because you couldn’t say no to something he already paid for.

Eventually, the dawn of day 6 in the week broke and Jimin had called up Jackson.  Telling you that he had something planned to do and that he would see you tomorrow.  He had grown so used to hanging around you, a stab of pain hit him when you replied back to him with an ‘ok :(‘.  You were far too cute he reasoned as he put the back of his hand against his mouth as you added on a ‘you owe me, Park >:(‘ to your message.  

Jimin: I owe you? For what spoilt brat

You: For leaving me alone to drown in boredom.  How dare you??

Jimin: It was literally just last week you were biting my head off for dragging you out of your room. Now your complaining that I have something to do without you?  My my my, how they grow up so fast. Bless

You: Choke and die.  I’m going to take a nap

Jimin: It’s 8AM don’t sleep and mess up your schedule!

You: YOU CAN’T CONTROL ME PARK

Jimin: Y/N!

You: JIMIN!

Jimin: Stay. Awake.

You: …

You: Fine.  Guess I’ll play Overwatch by myself

Jimin: Ew, who plays Overwatch?

You: yOU-

H laughed when you stopped replying.  Whether or not you actually started playing or went back to sleep was a mystery to him as he walked out of his apartment to meet with Jackson.  Jimin wanted to ask him a few things before the end of the week came.  He also had a few woes to lay on your best friend's shoulders.

A game of basketball was what Jimin had planned for the day with Jackson.  Going to the public gym and meeting Jackson with sports gear and a basketball in hand, the man-to-man day would begin.  

Jimin, walking onto the courts with his sports shorts and tank top watched as Jackson lazily threw baskets in a jersey and sweats. Dribbling the ball, he passed it to the smaller man who met him on the court.  Jimin, dribbling it around and getting a feel for it watched as Jackson crossed his arm before he stretched.  

“Really, Jimin? Basketball?” Jimin rolled his eyes.  

“Listen, I have a friend who aces in basketball, so shut up.” It started with the boy just taking turns shooting before a small match of one on one began.  Squeaking shoes on the floor with heavy breaths filled the nearly empty Thursday noon-time gym.  Lay-ups were shot left and right, 3-pointers and of course, the ever dreaded airball followed by laughing at the lame excuse of a shot all came with the game.  Soon, the two men were sat on the far wall, sweat covered and drinking out of water bottles purchased from the vending machine outside the doors.

“Now that the exercise part of the day is done, what is it you wanted?” Jackson asked. Turning towards Jimin taking a drink of water as Jimin craned his head up at the dim lights that definitely were going to go out soon.

“I think I have a crush on Y/n,” Jimin yelped when Jackson spit out his water on Jimin’s lap.  “Thanks for the shower, jackass!” Jackson coughed as he wiped at his chin while Jimin shook his shorts and his arms disgusted.  

“I can totally help you confess!” Jimin looked at his friend. “I’ve got this whole scene I’ve been cooking up for her lucky future boyfriend since like freshman year.  I’d spent a lot of time on this, and you- my lucky man- are gonna be the one to do it!”

“You’re okay with it?” Jimin asked, his voice skyrocketing as he barely spoke in a whisper. Jackson only shrugged as he put his back against the wall again and took a more steady drink since his last attempt ended covering Jimin.

“Yeah, why not?  Sure, you were a sleazy a week ago-”

“Hey!”

“-But, it seems like you get along with Y/n. And she’s not just gonna snub you once the weekends because that’s what you said in the beginning.”

“She told you about that?” That was true, Jimin had only planned on staying with you a week, but now he wanted an extended date.  Permanently if he had the option.

“Of course she did dude.  Look, so long as she doesn’t call me up one day bawling because you did something to her, I have no reason to knock your lights out.”  Jimin shuttered.  He wasn’t unfamiliar with the strength Jackson possessed.  He didn’t fight often, normally pretty laid back and easy going, but he’s heard rumors.  All focus solely around you and how you were picked on freshman year of college.  He got suspended for 2 weeks, but you weren’t picked on anymore.

Jimin looked at his lap as he moved and stuck out his pinky.  He remembered the party night and how serious you were about a small pinky promise.  Then, that thought somehow shifted to how you seemed to take dandelions seriously.  Jimin sighed as he turned back to Jackson, sitting cross-legged and at the utmost attention.

“Alright, tell me what I’m gonna do about this.”  A grin broke out on Jackson’s face as he clapped Jimin on the shoulder.

“Buckle in, Park.  This is gonna be one romantic fuckin’ ride.”

It was Friday as you sat in the library, reading and rereading the same paragraph in your textbook.  It was like your brain wasn’t registering the words, no matter how many times to read them over and over again.  You’d get halfway through, realize you clocked out only to repeat the process. You sighed as you slammed your head into the books fold and someone slid into the seat next to you.  

They rubbed your neck as you whined at your lame attempt at actually studying.  Turning your head and blowing your hair out of your face just enough to see who sat next to you, you weren’t entirely shocked to see Jimin. In his comfortable college dressed glory and his leather jacket, you had finally returned to him. His arm propped on the table as his palm held his chin. He was smiling, probably laughing at your obvious lack of concentration.

“Howdy, bookworm.” You rolled your eyes at him as you planted your face back into the book that smelt far too old to be a 2018 edition of World History. He chuckled again at you. “You know, you can always ditch the books?”  

“I’m so close to almost not having a B in this class it’s laughable.  I’ve never gone below that!” You whined, quietly of course as the librarian was a soundhound when it came to any loud noise ever.  She’s search out the source of the sound like a dog and quickly take to eliminate it.  You’ve been kicked out more than once in your attempts to studying turned to whines.

Jimin rolled his eyes.  Ever the drama queen.  His hand moved from your neck to treading through your hair and massaging your scalp.

“Let me rephrase,” he stopped and started again. “How about you stop for the day, hang out with me and then maybe I’ll help you study later.”  You sat up briefly, his hand remaining on the back of your head as you looked at him like a puppy dog would when offered treats.

“Can we get snacks?” You pouted and Jimin smiled enough his eyes began to close.  Patting your head, he nodded.

“Yes, we can get snacks, you big baby.”  You smiled as you sprung up and slammed your book shut, wincing on how loud the action was before you shoved it in your bag.  Jimin stole your bag before you could pick it up yourself and you pouted when he refused to give it to you. “Let me be a gentleman, Y/n.”

“You? A gentleman? Like you? As in Park Jimin who smokes and drinks?”

“I’m trying to stop smoking, you know that.”  

You nodded, pointing a finger at him.  “Ah, yes, good point.  I revoke that accusation then.” He just pulled up on his lips as he grabbed your hand and dragged you out of the library, stopping by your locker to ditch your bag inside it and then dragged you to a small convenience store to stock up on the snacks of your choosing.

However, you felt a bit bad when Jimin snatched your wallet from you when you went to grab your card and handed the cashier his instead.  You stomped and whined, but he was adamant that the bill was his to foot. You guilt was short lived when he placed the plastic bag of snacks in your arms though so you could offer him one of your marshmallowy-goodness cereal bars.  His payment for footing the payment.

Jimin gladly accepted this.

He convinced you to come back to his home so he could get out his bike, as he had told you he wanted to take you somewhere.  Not sure where he was going, you were half sure he was gonna take you someone and murder you with how sappy he’s been all afternoon, but also half as sure that he wouldn’t.  With a laugh and a promise to not kill you from his mouth, you decided to trust him.

“If you do kill me though, I’m so haunting you so think wisely,” you warned as you climbed onto his bike, your bag of snacks in a holding compartment under the seat as you sat behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist.  

You always just held onto his shirt, to offer him as much space as you could as you literally clung to him not to fly off while he zooms down the road. Though, before he even kicked up the stand, he pulled your hands from his shirt and tucked you close to his back.  He made you clasp your hands together at his stomach, saying it was ‘safe’ though he’s never said that before.

Taking a breath to cool down your heated face, you could see his stupid smile in his eyes as he flicked down the visor on his helmet and kicked up the stand before revving away.  

He took you down some country roads before an hour passed and he stopped when he was at an open field with a small farmhouse not too far off in the distance.  The cattle were off in a group as you could see their small black and white bodies look like ants from how far they were from the two of you.

“Are you sure we can be here?” you questioned when Jimin took off his helmet and ran his hand through his hair.  You hated when he did that, how dare he do that multiple times over and not be aware of it or his attractiveness skyrocket when he does.  Damn frat boy.

“Yeah.  I got a friend of a friend’s permission to be here.  It’s all cool.  We’re not trespassing so come on.” You swung your leg back over the motorcycle before Jimin linked his arm with yours and began to walk off, setting his helmet on his bike seat and not forgetting to grab your snacks either.  

The two of you just walked around.  Treading through the grass and making sure not to step on any flowers of innocent bees doing their hard work of collecting pollen.  Though, Jimin did wave and scare off a wasp once or twice. Which was dumb because that only resulted in the bug buzzing angrily after the two of you before it gave up.

Eventually, you both came to a grove of trees.  They were tall and proud.  You had no doubt they had taken years upon years to grow up to this level of brilliance.  It was just the right time in spring in flowers flew from the treetops and the green returned to the leaves. The wind that knocked the flower petals around was like a cinematic effect.  

Jimin was quick to plonk himself down at the base of one of the trees, sitting cross-legged while unloading your snacks.  Bags of chips, plastic bins of cookies, small individual wraps of brownies and of course some soda to tied you two over while you feasted.  Definitely not healthy, but oh so worth it.

The two of you sat under the tree as ate while you talked more.  It was strange that Jimin and you never ran out of things to talk about.  Any quiet gap between the conversation was quickly filled because all you two were doing was chalking up more conversations to have.  It was comfortable and the air around it made it seem like Jimin enjoyed it more than you did.

“Oh! I forgot, Jackson told me that you have a tattoo!” Jimin ticked his brow up at two things.  Yes, he did, but how did Jackson know that?  Then he remembered just who Jackson Wang was: Gossip Farm Member No.1. “How dare keep secrets in this relationship.  I demand a refund of time and lies.” Jimin shoved at your shoulder as he shrugged off his leather jacket, leaving him in a navy shirt.

“How about I show you and we can forget all about that refund?”

“If you whip your dick out and show me some weird cockring tattoo, please forget it.”  He laughed, nearly falling onto your lap as you braced his back. “I’m serious!” You cried in your own laughter.  He shook his head, putting the back of his hand against his face and looking at the sky through the tree’s leaves.  

“I cannot believe you sometimes.”  He swung his jacket around your shoulders.  “It’s on my rib cage, so hold my jacket for me.  I don’t want to get it all grassy.” You’d complain, but you did have a soft spot for this jacket. So, you slipped your arms through the sleeves and huffed in peace as the jacket warmed you up from Jimin’s body previous being in it.

Jimin slipped one of his arms back through the short sleeve of his shirt as it appeared under the bottom of it and pushed it up to reveal his torso.  The sharp, black ink of NEVERMIND engraved on his ribs. You awed at it.  It was something you wouldn’t expect to be on Jimin, yet the idea and the look of it suited him so well it was almost painful.

“Honestly, if you keep springing these attractive attributes on me I’m going to cry.” Jimin rolled his eyes as he- instead of putting it back on- removed his shirt altogether.  Showing you his back where a spade tattooed lay between his shoulders.  “Another one?!” He chuckled.

“You said not to spring it on you,” he slyly remarked as he watched your face heat up.  “What, too attractive?  Come to think, did you back-handedly compliment me a moment ago?”

“No. Shut your trap you stupid college frat.”

“You’re very good at sending compliments like insults.”

“Ugh, fine!  You’re attractive- is your ego gloated enough now?” He smirked as he took his shirt and threw it around your neck, dragging you closer to him. Your breath caught when he bumped his nose against your, scanning your face like a computer would a test sheet to make sure a No. 2 leaded pencil was used.

“It’s can be inflated a bit more, truth be told.” He watched your eyes switch between his own. “Remember what you told me about dandelions? How they make wishes come true?” You nodded. “Good,” he breathed before he kissed you.  He eased his shirt from around your neck when you didn’t fight or push him away.  He pushed down on you, pushing you further against the trunk of the tree as the sun made the shadows of the leaves dance.  

It was like the shimmering of the sea on your skin as he cracked open his eyes when he pulled away from you just long enough for you to grip the back of his head, entangling your fingers in his hair and pull him straight back.  He wasn’t complaining, smiling as the kiss became fervent.

He didn’t know how long he spent hunched over you in an intense lip lock, and frankly, he didn’t really care either.  Though, there is one thing from the Park Jimin a week ago that wasn’t snuffed out.  The playboy heartbreaker surely died, as you killed him within less than a week.  However, his tolerance and patience when it came to things that looked to become more heated than not, was still at an all-time low.  

He whined as he forced himself away from you, watching as your kiss-swollen lips breathed harsh air out in gasps and your face was as red as the blood rushing to them.  He chuckled as he kissed the tip of your nose and from previous knowledge of seeing it earlier, moved back from you and plucked a dandelion that sat behind him at the base of the tree trunk.

Jimin turned to you and held it in front of your face before he smiled and blew on it.  All the seeds scattering onto your face and into your hair as it left the stem bare. You blew out your lips, trying to make sure no seeds were unsightly inhaled at his assault.  

He laughed again.  “Wanna know what I wished for?”

You plucked seed after white seed out of your hair before you looked up at him as he tossed the stem over his shoulder. “You can’t tell.  That’s literally rule number 1 of wish making.  Telling someone the wish makes it void and it can’t come true!” You pouted.  “Though, I am curious.”

He smiled as he moved and pinched your side.  He kept pinching you until you got to your knees before he grabbed your waist and dragged you over to him.  You walking clumsily on your knees found yourself sat forcefully on Jimin’s thighs as he intertwined his fingers behind your back.

He pouted cutely at you as his blond hair was like that of the sun.

“I wished you would kiss me again.”

“You’re awfully cocky,” you replied with that same crimson on your face.

“I didn’t hear a no?”

“You didn’t, because you know damn well I’m not gonna say no!”

“It’s not nice to yell at your boyfriend who bought you snacks and only wants a kiss or two.”

“You’re actually the worst.”

“Kiss me!”

“Why should I?” You teased as he pushed his knees up, making you fall closer to his chest.  

“The dandelion said so,” so he laughed and kissed you again for certainly not the last time.

-END-

[artificialqueens]

Hold On To Me Chapter 12 {biadore} - imafuckinglibra

Idk how to intro this so let’s all just do a collective miss vaaAAANJjiee. Okay now, Chapter 12. Yay. Bc I like numbers ending in 0 or 5 I’m very tempted to end this fic on 15 but we’ll see (probably not wops) I had a beta this time which was cool thanks for the help babe. And other than that we have some hurt, some fluff and some smut so enjoy bitches. K bye.

“When’s the last time you saw him? Or was that it?” Detox peeked out from behind her mirror with one eye already lined, too intrigued by the story of how Danny ran out of Roy’s classroom to finish the other.

“No.” Roy desperately, with his head back, downed the last of his mocktail. He was over this no alcohol rule his doctor put on him. In the words of the nosey Detox - he’s had it. Officially. “Yesterday I saw him and some…douchebag, making out.”

“Ooh…ouch.” The other queens getting ready with Detox’s reaction echoed throughout the room.

“Yeah.” He somberly nodded dropping his gaze to his now empty glass.

After Danny ran out he tried going after him to explain but the teen was quicker than expected. His inhumanly long legs carrying him much faster than the injured Roy could ever keep up with.

He tried calling endlessly afterwards getting the number from Shane, he even tried from Shane’s phone a few times eventually even calling his mother when Danny hadn’t shown up to school two days in a row following the incident.

The only other option he considered was actually going to his home to confront him and declare his love and more importantly explain that everything was some horribly fucked up misunderstanding.

That was until Danny finally showed up that Thursday with Dan, or as he had decided on calling him, Milk, with his arm around him.

Just the sight of someone else clinging onto the boy he loved so much broke his already cold heart into a million unmendable pieces. But finding them at the end of the day disgustingly lip locked in the hallway pressed up against Danny’s locker really pushed him over the edge.

After that he was unconsolable. He threw things in his house, breaking furniture, paintings, anything within reach before he collapsed onto his couch a complete and utter mess.

He had never felt so helplessly alone, so lost in despair and heartbreak that nothing seemed worth it anymore.

He had started debating if the main character Alfred Jones from the book his juniors were assigned, Doctor Fischer of Geneva or The Bomb Party, had the right idea after losing his wife.

He had lost his own Anna-Luise and that glass of whiskey laced with prescription pain medication to take away all the agony had started looking more and more appealing by the passing hour.

Lucky for him the friends he had previously hated for putting him in this predicament was still there by his side, Shane and Raja, helping him pick up the pieces. What pieces they could that is.

Alas the show must go on…

He had returned to school the next morning avoiding any interactions or even having to look at Danny or his new apparent boyfriend.

Acting completely on auto pilot, an emotionless robot as he went about his day. Sure it’s been a while since he’s dated but he never remembered feeling this way, this shattered.

He did his duties, assigned homework, ate his lunch alone in the same excruciating silence he had grown so accustomed to and when faced with Danny in day to day life he shut down further. Blanking out completely to avoid facing the inevitable heart break creeping in again.

He even somewhere in his robotic haze accepted his friends’ invitation to their show. He didn’t exactly feel in the mood for drag, both his injuries and his heart were still too sore to put on a gown and go be productive which is how he ended up here, watching his friends getting ready while he read a book.

“Wait was the guy he was face sucking with like really tall and pale? And gorgeous?” Detox, now with both eyes winged, popped out again.

“Why? One of your discarded trash?” He snarled in her direction.

“Moewr, but no. Willam mentioned it’s his late birthday party tonight and that they had to organize a date for him.” She started digging through her phone that was laying on the table next to the endless amount of powder foundations. “This guy.”

Roy got up to take hold of the phone. Examining the photo lit up on the screen of the one and only, big and milky in an ice skating outfit. “That’s the one.”

The one asshole who’s teeth he wanted to kick in so hard he’d have to stick a brush up his ass to clean them.

He was a pretentious douche who acted above everything and anyone just because mommy and daddy were some kind of lawyers who raised a spoilt brat.

“So then it’s like an arranged thing? It’s not a real thing.” Courtney tried reassuring bringing him a glass of what he hoped was wine and not just grape juice. “One glass can’t hurt right?”

“Thank you Jesus.” He took the much needed alcohol and threw his head back after taking a big swig savoring the taste and feel of it burning slightly down his throat.

“He wouldn’t have been that mad if he didn’t care or was planning on going to find a new man, right?” Raja chimed in. She had a point.

“He’s a teenager, Raj, their brains wor…” His rebuddle got interrupted by a loud ringing coming from Courtney’s bosom.

“That’s something you don’t see every day…” Detox got up pointing to Courtney. “Behold the great vibrating slut. Latest in technology.”

“Shut up.” Roy growled in the very obviously drunk Detox’s direction keeping his focus on Courtney.

“It’s Danny.” Courtney went pale even through the multiple layers of make up when she pulled the ringing device out and looked at the screen.

“Why would he?” Roy tried grabbing the phone from her hand but she was quicker than him and answered it.

All the other queens immediately came running to circle them, the room dead silent as everyone eagerly tried to listen in on their conversation.

“Daniela?” Courtney carefully spoke.

“Is he there!?” Her phone didn’t even need to be on speaker to hear Danny’s yelling over some incredibly loud music and cheering.

“Who? Roy? Yeah, right here.”

“Put him on!” He nearly screamed.

Hesitantly handing the phone to Roy they could hear some very loud screeching coming from the other end.

“Danny?” Roy spoke, his heart pounding out of his chest getting ready for an earful and a half.

“Roy? Roy! Where are you?”

“At the club? Listen I…what’s wrong? Why are calling? Are you okay?” Recognizing the panic in his voice made his already racing heart speed up tenfold.

Shit this was not good. Flashbacks of the last time Danny called like this replaying on a never ending loop in his mind.

“No…” The soft sob could barely be heard. “I’ll wait at the same 7-11 as last time just please come get me I…I don’t know who else, who else to call. Hurry please.”

Shit!

In a moment of sheer panic Roy dropped his wine, not even bothering to acknowledge it as he grabbed his keys and rushed to his car before anyone could stop him.

He didn’t need any more motivation. Danny needed him.

-

He shouldn’t have listened to Chris.

‘Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!’ Danny cursed his friend and his ‘ingenious’ plan from the previous day, replaying the conversation in his mind while he waited for Roy.

Maybe he shouldn’t have called him but he was desperate and it was too late to turn back now.

It’s a long walk, and the music is loud. She sees an old friend, as she walks through the crowd. Puts on her best smile, but underneath it she’s a broken girl…

The deep voice of Justin Warfield filled the confined space he was in. After running out of the classroom halfway through the day he made a beeline straight home.

He’s never been a runner, he hates running, he hates exercise in general let’s face it - but that day he ran. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him away from anything Roy Haylock.

But that was nearly 3 days ago.

He’ll never get you, he will never understand. He’ll never get you, you can find a better man.

The singer repeated as the pace and volume of both his singing and the music picked up every time he sang those two sentences, repeating them in a seemingly never ending loop.

“You know you can’t run away from him forever, babe.” Chris tried comforting his friend over the phone attached to the dash as Danny turned down the music.

The minute Danny laid eyes on his best friend on the screen over facetime all the emotions he had been holding back pushed their way through the wall he built.

It was good though, it was what he needed. He needed to get it all out before he pulled into the parking lot of his school and had to face Roy. No.

Mr Haylock.

From now on their relationship was strictly teacher/student. Nothing else.

He had decided that while taking a bath day 2 of his wallowing. It was too painful to return to school where he’d have to face his former love especially in the same place that he had found his love with the man he hated most in the world.

Raja Gemini. Fuck his real name, the less he knew of this queen the better.

He couldn’t continue his depression fueled mini vacation for too long though. His mom had caught on to his fake illness being well, fake, and forced him back to school after apparently one of his teachers called.

She even sweetend the deal by letting him use her car while she was away with Jerry for the weekend to a wedding for one of Jerry’s cousins or something. He honestly wasn’t paying attention.

Like an aimless zombie wandering through the house anything someone told him went in one ear and straight out the other thanks to his liquified brain.

He didn’t want to think, about anything. About school, about music, about weddings - everything led back to Roy. And Roy was the one topic too excruciatingly painful to ever think of.

“I can actually.” Danny retorted in a very ‘matter of fact’ tone pulling up to a stop sign.

“You know you’re just being a total cliched Libra and avoiding conflict right? But you’ll need to suck it up and just do it sooner or later.” Dammit why did Chris have to be right.

“He’s a Cancer.” Danny added softly hoping if he could change the topic to astrology Chris would let it go. Which he didn’t.

“So he’s feeling even more shitty than you then!”

“Maybe.” He was right. Again. “I’m hanging up on you.”

“Why? Because I’m totally right?” Chris shook his head with his lips pursed to the side in Danny’s usual chola manner.

“Totally.” He scoffed.

“What about a little bit of revenge?” Chris offered taking a big sip from the long skinny straw of his Starbucks.

Spoken like a true Sagittarius, if he was Chris he’d had already forgotten about Roy and moved on. Maybe he should think like a Sagittarius once in a while though? So what? Roy obviously didn’t care about him?

“Go on?”

“Yay.” Chris eagerly clapped his hands like an excited school girl. “Okay so you’re going with that Dan guy tomorrow night right?”

‘Ugh gross.’ He internally rolled his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“First of all, he got a nice ass?” Chris’ smile grew and he wiggled his eyebrows making Danny laugh for the first time in days.

“You’re such an ass whore! Oh my god!” He squealed before throwing a dirty look at someone in a red convertible cutting past him.

“Am not! Danny!” Chris’s smile fell into a very offended look as he drew Danny’s name out in a long whine. “I’m emotionally charged to their eyes. You know that I’m not like that.”

“She’s emotionally charged to that ass.”

“Whatever. Babe…it’s fucking obvious though. Maybe like flirt a little with Dan, make it look all cute with him and totally get back at Professor ‘two birds one dick’.”

He couldn’t, no way. He didn’t even like Dan he just exuded cockiness that was a total turnoff for anyone with eyes. No way.

And Roy…he couldn’t hurt Roy. Oh god, here comes that all too familiar heavy chest feeling. The pulling in his heart yearning for Roy causing his eyes to water up again.

He missed him. Life without him just felt so empty, so worthless.

He shook his dangerous downward spiral off and hung up on his friend blowing him a kiss first as pulled into a parking spot next to Aaron.

‘Fuck my life, fuck it hard.’ He sighed to himself spotting an all to familiar milky brunette standing with the others.

“You are so beautiful I could die, especially when you’re singing like ugh, your voice is just to die for.” Dan rambled on, trapping Danny with his arms on either side of his shoulders against his locker.

“Uh…thanks, man.” He nervously smiled. His mother raised him better, if you have nothing nice to say don’t say anything at all.

Oh but he really, really wanted to say something.

“Yeah like it just speaks to me you know.” Dan leaned his head down closer towards him, clearly not picking up on the obvious hint that he did not want to kiss him as he was backing up further into the painted metal locker.

“Like really, really speaks to me.” He breathed his disgusting warm breath against his lips sending icky chills down Danny’s spine right before their lips made contact.

‘Roy. Roy. Roy…’ The name kept repeating in his mind hoping if he chanted it enough he’d magically summon his knight in shining slacks.

Sure enough he did.

‘Oh no.’ His plan backfired when he suddenly saw how this would look from Roy’s perspective.

He had found Roy hugging his friend I mean that’s nothing compared to this right? One thing was for shit sure. Roy catching him pressed up against a locker with his hands tightly gripping each side of Dan’s jacket to try and push him off as Dan pressed his thigh between his legs definitely was not going to look good.

‘Roy.’ He tried silently calling him back when all the older man did was turn in another direction with an expressionless face. He could feel the tears bubbling up again from seeing the man he loved so hollow. ‘Roy, please.’

-

The drive there was such an unsure haze Roy was amazed he actually pulled into the right 7-11 parking lot or into a 7-11 at all. He must’ve broken at least 50 laws getting there but fuck it, he made it.

He saw Danny pacing with his arms crossed furiously clutching each side of the opposite bicep. Only taking a break from his pacing to take a long drag from his half burnt out cigarette.

“Daniel!” He jumped out of his car running towards him. “Are you hurt? What’s wrong?”

Before he got too close Danny spotted him, turning in his direction as what seemed like a well of never ending tears came flooding out. “Fuck you!”

“Yeah,” He snorted nodding. “You said that already what else is new?” Roy’s sorrow and fear was slowly turning into rage.

Why was he being this douche? This wasn’t like him at all, this wasn’t the Danny he knew or fell in love with. He wasn’t ever hostile, he was sweet and caring and sure he was feisty but at least within reason.

“Is that really why you called me here? To tell me to go fuck myself? Really queen?”

“No! It wasn’t.” Danny threw his cigarette away and stomped towards Roy, catching him off guard by grabbing hold of each side of his beautifully dimpled cheeks with his ice cold lanky fingers. His glossy hazel eyes staring directly into his soul. “I fucking hate you, I hate you Roy.”

“Then why call me.” Roy’s voice cracked, he was trying to put on the most put together facade all week but he couldn’t. He was a mess.

Even more now knowing that Danny, who had clearly moved on, was holding him like this for presumably the last time. Just this skin on skin contact he so longed for threw the armor he had built up right out the window.

“Because I was scared and alone and fucked up and the only person I wanted to be with was you…” Danny let go of him and turned, walking away from him to wipe his eyes with the back of his sleeve.

“Well you have a fucking hell of a way of showing it. It’s been a week and you won’t even answer my calls? What the fuck?”

What was this? Heartbreak? Anger? Loss? Everything crashing down on him all at once in such a muddled mess he couldn’t even recognize what he was feeling.

“Like you really even cared.”

Roy shook his head and turned around to head back to his car. Fuck this. Halfway to his escape he stopped dead in his tracks, he needed to know one last thing.

“Why didn’t you call…It. That thing you were sucking face with.” There it was. The last nudge that pushed him straight into blind rage.

He said it was such a strained voice that it completely rattled Danny’s entire world.

Clearly having struck a nerve Roy watched Danny’s pale expression turn bright red. “Oh! Oh! You’re one to fucking talk!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Open relationship remember. You know,” Danny pulled another cigarette somewhere out of his military jacket’s pocket. “You always do this, ever since the hotel room even, even before that you lead me on and then, of course because I’m so fucking stupid, I fall for you! And then you just break my heart moving on without ever really giving a fuck about me, huh?”

“You are fucking stupid, Danny!” Roy shouted at the top of his lungs, hoping it would make Danny’s bullshit ramblings stop so he could finally speak.

“Fuck you!” Danny screamed loud enough that probably even the family of four trying to eat their dinner in China heard. “And fuck Raja!”

“Raja? Raja!? This is about Raja!” He probably looked like a fucking lunatic when he suddenly threw his arms in the air in defeat as he started laughing. “Danny…Raja is even dumber than you are!”

“Oh thanks I feel so loved.” Danny rolled his eyes lighting the cigarette he just pulled out. “You’re so fucking selfish you know that? No wonder you’re alone…oh wait, you’re not! You have Raja! You’ve had Raja all along!”

“You ignorant fucking brat!” Roy took a step closer furiously gesturing with his hands ready to wrap his fingers around Danny’s pulsing neck.

“Tell me I’m wrong then! Tell me I wasn’t just some young side meat you wanted to use any way that suited you to cheer up your pathetic little life.”

‘This. Fucking. Bitch.’ Roy thought being left speechless simply standing there staring at him.

If only he knew how much his words were hurting him, how much every snarl was like an jab straight through his chest.

Actually he knew exactly how painful his words were, even saying them hurt Danny. Having to resort to yelling and screaming at the man he loved when the only thing he wanted to do was be held by him. It was killing him.

Rotting him slowly to the core, destroying everything left of him every time Roy clapped back.

“You are so fucking wrong!” He gave up with a sigh, dropping his hands defeatedly to his side. ”You want to know why? Get it in the car.” 

Roy walked back to his Mercedes opening the passenger side for Danny first and furiously pointing at the seat. “In, Noriega!”

‘Is he being serious? Get in his car? Fuck no.’ Danny continued his internal freak out.

Pondering if this was some kind of rouse to lure him into his car to pull a bad 80’s gangster movie inspired stint and drive him to a deserted location to murder him. Especially now after their little verbal sparring match.

Reluctantly Danny stomped to the car as if his boot clad feet had a of life of their own, mumbling something about hating his treacherous body for betraying him like this as he slumped into the elegant black car.

Roy’s hands holding the steering wheel with such a tight vice grip his tan knuckles turned white.

He should’ve known it would be Raja that was at the bottom of this mess wether he knew it or not.

He had to repeatedly remind himself of his friend’s good intentions and how he’d been there to help him otherwise he probably would’ve strangled him with as much ferocity as he was gripping his wheel.

If he had just fucking killed Raja like he had promised years ago, but no. He just had to grow a heart and give that little amazing, kind hearted weasel a chance to burrow himself a comfy little home.

“Raja! Raven!” Roy stormed in backstage, all the queens still at their tables painting their faces jumping up in unison like one fucked up Mexican wave when he threw the door open.

“Is everything okay? Where’s Danny? Is he…” Raja followed Roy’s pointing and spotted the awkward teen standing outside against the car’s door and ran towards him. “Danny! Hi! Listen I can completely explain everything, okay.”

“Why am I here?” Danny looked over to Roy with a very annoyed expression.

“Because you got into my car, despite your whole ‘I hate you’ speech. So It’s either because you want to kill him that badly or me. Which is it?”

“Neither…” Danny’s rage seemed to have dwindled and the teen was left looking down at his hands, fiddling with his nails’ chipped paint. “I didn’t, I told you I was alone and just needed you.”

Through his earlier rage blinding him Roy had completely missed all the signs. His disheveled make up that was running down his flushed cheeks, his brightly colored vomit stained pants, the bruised knuckles slowly turning blue and purple…

“It was your party.” He thought out loud. Roy’s harsh tone now gone as he hesitantly stepped closer, as if carefully approaching a wounded animal. “Danny…where’s Dan? What happened?”

“Chris didn’t show up like he was supposed to and…Dan, he’s been like really I don’t know. He’s super gross. He like stalked my YouTube page and he wanted to keep making out but never actually talk to me. So when he tried making a move earlier I punched him.” He shivered at the memory with his eyes still on his hand examining the bruising around his knuckles, flinching when he tried wiggling his little finger. “And then I called you.”

“Why me? Why if you hate me so much did you call me?” Roy was now right in front of him looking up into those beautiful, still puffy eyes.

“I don’t hate you.” He admitted with a croak before the tears from earlier resumed. “But you shouldn’t be with him. I hate you because you’re with him! Not me! It should be me!”

There it was. They say once you name something you give it power.

Now it made sense.

He had given his greatest fear the chance to escape and outed it to the world and now there was absolutely no going back. The realization that Roy was no longer his leaving him an empty shell of what he once was.

Roy stepped closer quickly grabbing he sobbing boy just as he collapsed into the same broken mess he had been just a day earlier.

Holding him tightly keeping said shattered shell together, his toned arms around him being the only comfort Danny would ever need again

“It is you. It’s only you, it’s never been anyone else but you…” Roy shushed him holding him tightly caressing his head with his fingers tangled between the messy dark brunette mop.

“But I saw…” He looked up at Raja, the incredibly tall queen still standing by the back door of the club clutching her pearls.

“But you didn’t think.” Raja intervened with an almost motherly voice.

“Raj,” Roy spoke up with the most composed tone he’s managed all night shaking his head. “Not now.”

Raja nodded with a faint smile and went back into the club, leaving the pair alone once again.

“Come on, back in the car.” Roy ordered reaching behind Danny to open the door for him.

-

“Alright. Let’s get you cleaned up first and then we’ll talk about this okay? Sound like a plan?” Roy clapped his hands together as if he was addressing his class.

He had brought Danny back to his apartment so they’d have a safe space to discuss everything, hopefully calmer than earlier.

At least if things did get as vocal as in the parking lot they wouldn’t have to worry about breaking anything, Roy already took care of that earlier and swept the proof under the rug.

“Yeah.” Danny nodded with a whisper. He was dead silent the whole ride home, not once even acknowledging Roy or where he was bringing him.

The older never even pushed him to open up either, instead he just held his shaking hand in his rubbing the back of it lazily with his thumb. He knew all to well that once you opened that flood gate and had to verbalize your feelings you had to relive them.

Even just thinking about the torment Danny must’ve been in to make that big of a scene nearly drove Roy down the same deep pit. He wouldn’t wish reliving that despair on anyone let alone the broken boy he loved with every fibre of his being.

“What time does your mother expect you home?” Roy looked at his watch.

“Out of town. A cousin’s wedding or something with my stepdad.”

“Alright then.” Roy nodded. He flicked on the small bathroom’s fluorescent light and all the memories of the first time they did this came flooding making his heart ache as soon as he hid. “Bath or shower?”

“Bath.” Danny cocked his head in the tub’s direction and took off his jacket as Roy turned to put the water on, being quicker than him though he stopped him by grabbing his hand. “Don’t.”

He wasn’t ready to be without Roy yet even just for a bath. He’d been without him far too long and he physically couldn’t take any more of it.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Roy smiled walking up to the young man who was drawing him closer by the hand.

When they were only an inch or two apart Danny leaned forward, cupping Roy’s ever so slightly stubbled face to pull him in for a very feeble, shakey kiss.

This was it. This was what he needed, what they both needed to finally ease all that anguish.

Slowly Roy’s hands found their way to Danny’s hips, pulling their bodies closer as the intensity of their kissing grew. Their lips parting to eagerly take in more of the other.

Danny’s hands snaked down from his face to the bottom of his tight grey shirt feeling at every inch of Roy’s flat stomach at they did, breaking their kissing for only a second as he flung it off over Roy’s head.

“I missed you…” He breathed into Roy’s mouth just as the older was repeating the same thing with his shirt.

“I missed you too, so much you don’t even know.” He quickly slid his hands into the back of Danny’s tights and into his briefs to feel down his round ass, pulling both his pants and his underwear down swiftly in the process as Danny guided them back.

His now more stable hands fidgeting between them working on unbuckling Roy’s jeans so he could finally be his again.

When Roy’s back hit the bathroom wall with a quiet thud he spun them around and reached for his medicine cabinet next to Danny’s head.

Danny, with his palm flattened against the wall, stretched his arm around taking Roy’s growing erection in his other hand becoming impatient as he jerked him off slowly through his boxers.

Roy’s hand, just as impatient as his partner’s, dug between the bottles and miscellaneous lotions while his mouth explored the back of Danny’s neck. Peppering gentle kisses along the smooth skin till he found the small half full bottle of lube.

Once he heard the pop of the plastic cap flicking open Danny clumsily hooked his fingertips into the waistband and slid Roy’s boxers down just enough to let his cock spring free. Roy wasted no time in squirting a heavy amount of thick clear lube onto himself. Meanwhile Danny reached the hand previously jerking him off up around to hold onto Roy’s neck, pulling his lips back against his skin as Roy lowered his knees to enter Danny easier.

With his hands on Danny’s somewhat curvy hips Roy gradually inserted himself into his tight young asshole. Hearing the low whimper escaping between gritted teeth from the younger pinned between him and the wall.

“Ow…ow ow.” Danny quickly bit his bottom lip to avoid the involuntary cries suddenly coming out of his mouth. He knew tensing up would make this unnecessarily more difficult than it needed to be but the ice cold lube unexpectedly against his entrance made him flinch, not helped that he had forgotten how much Roy actually stretched him.

Roy felt Danny’s body tensing up further, his asshole tightly clenching around him making entering him any further nearly impossible without hurting him. He quickly moved his hands to Danny’s chest. Holding onto his non-existent pecs feeling his heartbeat racing against his fingertips.

“Sh, I got you, baby.” He soothed Danny with another kiss on his neck till the younger relaxed, his hands joining Roy’s holding onto them as the older started his steady thrusting.

He could tell by the sincerity in his sweet nothings the older meant it - he had him and without hesitation he’d protect him as he had done so many times before.

A light bulb went off in the back of his muddled mind, illuminating the one thing that’s been so clear all along but hidden beneath layers and layers of doubt and fear.

“I love you…I love you…” Danny started softly chanting, breathing it out in time with every new thrust Roy made.

The three simplest words that he’d been yearning for finally spoken. Roy hadn’t anticipated what an earth shattering impact they’d have on him but here they were.

He knew without a shred of doubt he’d give up everything in a heartbeat for this boy, throw away everything he was just to hear those 3 words every day for the rest of his life.

Roy let go of Danny’s torso and with his hands on the wall each side of the younger he gradually pulled himself out.

Grabbing the condom that he’d forgotten from the tall box he accidentally knocked over earlier in his hunt for lube he spun Danny around.

Kissing him deeply as his hands trailed down his sides to his backside and with a firm grip on his soft cheeks he picked him up.

Not a good idea with his bruises but who cared, nothing in that moment mattered except Danny. It was all he could focus on. The love of his life he so nearly lost. Might still lose…

With Danny’s long legs wrapped around his waist as they walked down the hall to the bedroom they were already in the perfect position when Roy went to sit down on edge of the bed.

Muscle memory took over as he slipped the condom on as speedily as he could without needing to look while their lips remained locked. Hungrily searching for comfort in each other.

“I love you too…” Roy breathed out when Danny pulled back from their kissing, biting his lip again to avoid any involuntary responses slipping out this time he lowered back down onto Roy’s waiting cock.

Maintaining silent eye contact with his fingertips gently on either side of Roy’s jaw Danny started steadily rolling his hips. Each testing the other person’s declaration of love, waiting to see if either would run.

“I love you, Danny.” Roy repeated his words even fainter this time.

This was it, this was real. Roy really loved him. Courtney Love and Kurt Cobain real. Sid and Nancy real. Sacrificing himself without any hesitation real.

He loved Roy and Roy loved him. It was the only certainty between them.

With Danny’s fingers intertwined behind Roy’s neck, their kissing grew intenser, deeper as did their movements. Roy soon feeling down his back leaving a trail of goosebumps behind he reached down to hold onto his ass guiding his every steady move.

Nothing about there interactions were rushed or had the usual roughness of their previous encounters, they were smooth and intimate.

The gentle touches of their hands and lips lingering wherever they made contact, savoring this deeply personal cathartic moment.

Even when Danny picked up the pace of his hips, the slapping of their bodies and the crinkling of Roy’s pants still halfway down his thighs remained drowned out by their soft grunts and moans.

Their bodies saying everything they had hoped to say without either ever having to utter a single word.

Soon Danny’s head lifted exposing the tender flesh of his neck stained red from arousal, his lips pressed against Roy’s furrowed damp forehead. “More…please, give it to me…more.”

The hands gripping his ass moved back up and Roy’s arms snaked their way around his back, enveloping his small frame to pull them as close as physically possible.

His hips thrusting up faster to meet Danny’s now hurried riding, the moans escaping Danny’s lips growing more strained as the petite chest pressed against Roy’s rose and fell quicker.

Roy’s head nuzzled against Danny’s collarbone, biting into the delicate, tender flesh to muffle his grunting. This was definitely going to leave a mark but so be it, let it. Let the world know that he was his.

“…oh…shi…” Danny’s body starting trembling in Roy’s grip, a hot load of cum shortly after following shooting out between them onto Roy’s chest. The sticky, pale white liquid leaking down his body to the bruise around his gut.

Roy eased up on his hips’ movements to allow Danny to ride his orgasm out at his own pace but the younger never let up.

“Don’t stop…” He breathed out “…more…”

Ceasing his teeth’s gnawing into his collar Roy moved his lips up to trial kisses up his lover’s pulsing, heated neck to his jaw. The tenderness in which his lips worked a striking contrast to harshness of his black nails digging into Danny’s sides.

The grip of Danny’s skinny arms still around his neck growing tighter with every smack of their bodies as did the coil in his abdomen.

This was how Roy wanted to die, right here lost in Danny’s arms forever.

“Baby…” Roy warned and Danny picked up the pace for him, increasing the intensity in which he rode him to bring him closer to his desperately needed release.

“…give it to me, babe.” Danny encouraged.

With a final deep, almost painful groan Roy climaxed, clinging as tightly possible onto the body between his arms scared of falling apart if he did.

-

“Sorry.” Danny finally spoke when Roy climbed into the white porcelain bathtub sitting down behind him.

They were seated in the deliciously warm water that filled the tub to the brim with bubbles. Roy behind Danny against the back of the tub with Danny securely between his legs leaning forward with his hands resting under the water on his shins.

“For?” Roy asked putting his messily tangled hair into a bun at the top of his head, wiping away any stray strands of hairs to kiss along the small hickey forming on his neck.

“Everything I said…” Danny looked down ashamed of what he shouted during their fight, lifting his hands to now run them up and down along Roy’s spread thighs on either side of him.

He felt mortified that they ever even had such an argument, it was good to get everything out and in the open but not like that. Not in that ugly manner.

“Don’t be.” Roy’s hands slid down Danny’s shoulders to the ones on his thighs. “I don’t blame you, I deserved it. You had your heart broken because I’m an actual fucking idiot and you’re right, I was selfish.”

The guilt of everything he’d put the younger through with his overthinking slowly gnawing away at him forcing him to face his greatest fear, himself, and apologize. Swallowing every last bit of pride he had to do it.

“You weren’t.” Danny shook his head.

“No I was. I shouldn’t have just been so quick to dismiss you because of my own stupid insecurities, I should’ve listened. If I had known earlier that those idiots tried that shit I wouldn’t have asked you to leave like that.” As he spoke Danny leaned back, his back now against Roy’s well toned chest and his head in his shoulder. The skin on skin contact even more soothing than the water. “I did want you to stay, I really did, but I didn’t want you to be miserable here with me when you’d rather be with your friends.”

“Fuck my friends.” Danny scoffed, titling his head back so he could look up at Roy asking silently for a small kiss.

“You don’t mean that.” Roy rested his temple against Danny’s when his head returned to it’s previous spot in the nook of Roy’s collar.

“I do. Jay heard Dan likes me and invited him to my party, but he thought getting invited was some kind of, like, I don’t know…me asking him out and then Chris told me to give you a taste of your own medicine and fucking show him off or something.” He scrunched his face up in disgust at the memory. “So fuck them all, hope they all get some kind of STD.”

Roy laughed at his shady ass comment and wrapped on arm under Danny’s arm to drape it over his chest with his hand on Danny’s shoulder like a seatbelt shielding him from any further harm. Physical or emotional.

“Alright then. Where even is this great Chris? You said he didn’t show?”

Danny trailed his hand along the arm over him to distract himself as the sudden intense longing for his friend hit him.

“He didn’t, his grandma got sick and he’s super attached so he stayed behind.” He hooked the fingers of his other hand between Roy’s and lifted their now clasped together hands, examining his bruised knuckles. “Dan…”

“Milk.” Roy interrupted. Fuck he hated that kid. He wasn’t worthy of the same name as his love or anything better than the absurd nickname he had dubbed him. “Fuck him too, he can get an especially nasty STD.”

“Asshole.” Danny laughed, making Roy’s heart flutter. “He’s such a gross ass kisser though. He fucking tried to grope me, man. So I punched his ass.”

“Atta boy!” Roy praised proudly and brought the clasped together hands to his lips to gave each purple and red knuckle a gentle kiss careful to not hurt him. “But this might be fractured, I’ll take you to the doctors tomorrow if it’s worse.”

“Okay.” Danny sighed. Time to face the inevitable. Like a bandaid. “So what’s the deal with you and Raja, honestly? Why did you take me to see him?”

“Oh that.” Roy laughed. “I actually wanted to introduce you to Raven, you remember her right? About Raja’s height, tan, heavy ass make up with that silicone face.”

“Yeah I think so why?” Danny thought back to their New York trip together where he met a Raven.

Roy raised their hands up in front of Danny’s confused face again and playfully wiggled his ring finger. “That’s his husband you dumb bitch.”

“Oh…” Danny felt his cheek growing every shade of red imaginable and started sinking lower into the warm bubbly water. It was the only alternative to hiding his head in the dirt from embarrassment like an ostrich who was just caught with his pants down.

Roy picked up on his attempted evasiveness and pulled him back up laughing at his cartoonish blushing face.

He swaddled Danny with both his arms now around his chest, even the one still holding onto his. “You’re so precious when you’re all stupid.”

“Hey.” Danny pouted looking up at him again, his heart dropping when he saw Roy’s expression falling again.

“He actually tried going after you too to apologize for him and Shane giving you the dad speech to try and scare you.”

“They did?” Danny got a sinking feeling in his chest for not seeing through their tough guy act from the beginning. If he had this whole situation could’ve been avoided. He was usually so in tune with people’s energies why did he miss it?

“What you thought you saw at school was Raja feeling like horse shit and coming back to apologize for what he did after I cut him off.”

The memory of Danny’s upset face when he looked up at them flashing through his mind’s eye.

“You did? Why?”

“They were trying to be smart asses and instead they ended up hurting you. I don’t want anyone in my life who’s going to hurt you regardless of who they are.” Roy’s voice got low.

Danny stretched his neck up to kiss Roy as a thank you, like a princess kissing a knight after he rescued her from some great evil.

This guy really genuinely cared about him. How that was even reality absolutely stunned Danny. “I love you.”

Roy’s face lit up at the words, the way he said them in his sweet voice only adding to the butterflies in his stomach.

“I love you too.” He returned the kiss with another drawn out one. “And don’t worry I don’t think they’ll try it again.”

He reached for the hamper next to them with the grey bottle of body wash Danny had bought him on it.

“They won’t?” Danny rested his head back in it’s spot and kissed Roy’s neck.

“Nope.” Roy splashed some of the warm water over Danny’s chest before squirting the soapy charcoal colored liquid onto him. “Totally kicked their asses.”

“Legit.” Danny nodded impressed with Roy defending his honor so gallantly. Purring as Roy’s hands went about massaging the soap onto his skin. “Can I stay the night?”

Roy smiled kissing his temple. “Sure, baby.”

-

“Hey. Can I go through your music?”

“Yeah, sure.” After their bath and impromptu make out session as they were drying off Danny’s stomach starting growling uncontrollably loud.

Thus Roy promptly went to work making them each something to eat as the younger explored the house.

“What happened to your tv?” Danny shouted from the living room while Roy was reading the instructions on the back of a frozen pizza box he found in his freezer.

“Uh…nothing.” He panicked.

‘I broke it.’ He thought remembering how he threw one of his books at it in a fit of rage over seeing Danny with another.

“Mh-hm.” Danny came back into the kitchen a moment later with his lips pursed and the slow piano intro of Placebo’s Running Up That Hill following him.

Roy turned on the oven to preheat it and turned back to Danny walking over to him just in time for him to come up to him surprising him with a hug. Holding onto him tightly with his chin on his shoulder.

It doesn’t hurt me. Do you want to feel how it feels? Do you want to know that it doesn’t hurt me? Do you want to hear about the deal that I’m making?

There were no words, just the couple embracing each other tightly making up for lost time as the song continued playing around them.

With everything now explained calmly thanks to the relaxing high of both their amazing moment of intimacy and the long hot bath things could go back to normal.

Not entirely normal. After declaring their love for each other probably nothing would ever be normal again.

That was a future Roy’s problem to deal with though. The absolutely only concern on present Roy’s mind was engraining every little detail of their domestic bliss with his arms around the guy he loved swaying to a song he loved into it.

It was as if the man he was 48 hours ago no longer existed, Danny had completely stripped every fear, every worry, every negative thought from his mind and replaced it with images of them laughing like children wrapped in towels making bubble beards.

His doctor had been right, he might’ve been talking about his bruises but it fit the context so let’s go with it.

It had to get worse before it could get better.

And sure when things did get worse they were just plain disastrous, I’m talking hurricane Katrina level disastrous. Nonetheless in the end it was all worth it a million times over.

You, it’s you and me. And if I only could, I’d make a deal with God, And I’d get him to swap our places, Be running up that road, Be running up that hill, Be running up that building… “Roy?” Danny finally spoke interrupting his peaceful thoughts.

“Hm?”

You don’t want to hurt me, But see how deep the bullet lies. Unaware I’m tearing you asunder…

“I’m dropping out…”

[wannawrite]

Bar Goer

who?: JBJ’s Kim Donghan

genre: 🌸

type: bullet point

TW: alcohol

blog navigator.

donghan isn’t very successful at finding true love at clubs but trying doesn’t hurt anyone

inspired by kdrama ‘Tempted (The Great Tempter)

I’m so upset that jbj is going to disband so quickly 😭😭😭 it’s just a HUGE disappointment. This request went straight to the top of my priority list. They deserve to disband with dignity.

I’ll probably still take requests for them - same with W1 - bc I love them so much.

Thanks for requesting anon!!

- admin l

bc he deserves more

disclaimer: pictures used do not belong to me and credit goes to their original owners

everything that is written here is purely fictional

DO NOT READ IF TRIGGERING

~

No one has heard of a seducer greater than Kim Donghan

he had cherry lips, shielding a bitterly sweet tongue

he walked with a wicked stride, confident and narcissistic

Donghan was fresh out of school, just a 20 year old

yet, the neighbourhood gossip column stated he had wormed his way into the heart of a much older woman

she was his classmate’s mother

the reason he spent all night flattering her with sweet nothings and a couple of deep kisses?

likely because he wanted free alcohol for himself

why had he gone to that particularly expensive club only open to the guest list?

because his best friend and partner in crime, Hyunbin, had gotten free entry for both of them

troublemakers, those two

Donghan would go to that extent for free drinks

and he had the highest alcohol tolerance out of the people in his class

crazy

all the caused was chaos

Donghan would seduce anyone, anything, for whatever reason

if it was given by his other best friend, the aristocratic Kim Sanggyun

or if he felt like it was worth the chase and effort

some people nicknamed the trio TriK

Tri for three

K for Kwon and double Kim

and TriK for how deceiving they look

they trio played pranks on everyone and anyone

their other close friends, Taehyun, Kenta and Yongguk were helpless to stop them

tbh they didn’t really care as long as Taehyun did not have to wake up at 3am to bail Hyunbin out of jail

besides, it wasn’t like TriK to be so mundane and muted

they just bore too bright and wild personalities

Taehyun let out a disgruntled sigh. ‘Donghan, if I receive one more angry text for a heart broken person, I’m doing to snap your neck.’

Donghan simply shrugged, a knowing grin on his face

people liked to think Taehyun was the most responsible in the clique and often went to him for advice or to take revenge on Donghan

like Donghan ever cared about what his hyungs had to say about him

they too had given up long ago and just let him carry out his activities

it wasn’t like seducing was fatal

or was it?

‘Hyung, don’t be mad. I’m here, I bought you your favourite sushi from Tokyo! Cheer up!’ lovesick Hyunbin attempted to lift Sanggyun’s sulky mood.

he only pressed his lips into a thin line and twirled his chopsticks in his hands

‘it isn’t fair how she just moves on so quickly just two years after she signed divorce papers,’ he seethed. ‘Does she want the chairman or does she want JK group?’

it had been a long day of settling unpleasant affairs

to begin with, Sanggyun was forced to attend some gala that his mother’s company, Myeong Jeong Healthcare had organised

smile for the cameras

talk to stuck up ‘friends’ or ‘diplomatic allies’ who cared about nothing else than the Kim family’s bank account

entertain guests

To end the dessert course on the sweetest note possible, his mother announced her engagement to JK Group’s chairman

more commonly addressed as Kim Donghan’s father

Donghan too was obliged attend and witnessed the announcement

It was too soon after his father had erased any trace of him from his life

throwing out of the family home just hours after Donghan’s graduation ceremony

Donghan had disappeared shortly following the loud declaration

he was last seen driving off in a red sports car that was not registered under his name

Sanggyun had finally released all his pent-up frustration, throwing wine glasses at walls and crunching him up in his hands

his shouts shook the whole building from the carpark level

Hyunbin’s effort was useless

Sanggyun was not to be stopped

in the end, Sanggyun had to be hospitalised because of his injuries and emotional distress

obviously, he wasn’t one for bland hospital food so Hyunbin had made sure to grab his favourite

meanwhile, Donghan was out somewhere by himself, most likely equally traumatised

the next day, Donghan paid Sanggyun a visit

‘I can’t stand this,’ Sanggyun whined, referring to his hospital gown and IV drip.

which Hyunbin had been desperately tried to keep in place

uhh by preventing Sanggyun from ripping it out

perhaps he also meant that he couldn’t stand Donghan’s dad marrying his mum

‘Let’s go somewhere, do something,’ Donghan suggested.

‘whenever you say that...you mean let’s go clubbing...’ Hyunbin raised his eyebrows

his friend’s lips stretched into a smile. ‘Why not? I know of a new club that just opened.’

Hyunbin crossed his arms over his chest, pressing his lips into a thin line. ‘I think it’ll be best if we just called pizza and chicken in. Right, Sanggyun? You love that chicken place down the road.’

how the hell am I going to manage to emotionally unstable drunk boys?

‘Actually,’ Sanggyun began, tearing at his IV drip. ‘Checking out that new club sounds nice and we’ll call pizza in to cure the hangover.’

he wanted the thick liquid to burn as it slipped down his throat

Donghan felt like he just needed the adrenaline from clubs, maybe grab a drink or two but he didn’t feel like inhaling alcohol tonight

he just wanted some time away from all the chaos

hyunbin knew the night wasn’t going to end in the most spectacular fashion but that never stopped him from hopping in

‘There are too many nurses and security on duty as of now,’ Donghan hissed, teeth gritted

the quicker they left and arrived back the better

less suspicious

less problematic

less chaotic

a bundle of black nylon was shoved into his hands.

unravelling the package, his hands met with sturdy rope

‘hyung, you never come unprepared,’ he whispered in disbelief. His hyungs were always so unpredictable

Hyunbin locked the door behind him as Donghan pushed the window open

they were lucky to have gotten such a hospital ward 

imagine if the windows were sealed 

but no, Sanggyun threw a fuss about how he was allergic to some chemicals

the contractor was in to redo some windows of different wards 

Sanggyun hastily slipped into the different set of clothes and fluffed up the blanket to make it look like he was asleep 

with a thud, the rope landed on the other side of the wall

the knot reeling to keep it secure 

under the pastel hues of sunset, three boys shimmied down the wall of a hospital

the moon reached its peak by the time they set off for an adventure

~

for Kim Donghan, getting into some of the city’s most exclusive clubs was no big deal

he just had to cut the line and give the bouncer a small smile before the velvet rope was pulled back and he was ushered through the doors 

he did frequent clubs quite a bit 

but most of the time it was to meet Hyunbin or Sanggyun 

it didn’t necessarily mean he got hammered 24/7 

he just found the atmosphere one to suit his mood at given times 

strobe lights, loud music, the scent of sweat and alcohol almost seemed more welcoming than the icy draft that wafted through his ‘father’s’ house 

a/n: in the drama, a reason why Sihyun gets kicked out is as he isn’t the legitimate son of his ‘father’

from what I know 

please don’t spoil it for me 😬🙏🏼

Donghan takes on Sihyun’s role, Sanggyun as Sooji and Hyunbin as Sejoo 

but tonight, Donghan just feels like having a beer before napping on the plush seats in the VIP lounge 

there was no room for hooking up or ruining someone’s ego today 

that was his plan 

if he succeeded in getting through the insane VIP line 

usually, the VIP line would have one - the most two people - in it 

however, tonight was strangely packed 

he was Kim Donghan

if there was an event, he would have been informed of it by his contacts 

but he hadn’t even heard anything on the grapevine about tonight 

weird 

Sanggyun was beginning to get impatient, worried about how he was going to explain himself to his mother should they be caught 

‘I’ll go check out the situation up front.’ Donghan pushed and squeezed his way through until he could see the doors 

after some eavesdropping, he concluding the club was hosting someone’s birthday 

‘hey, you!’ someone yelled. ‘Don’t cut the line, dick move.’ 

Donghan wanted to roll his eyes but he controlled himself, flashing his signature grin that made even people with the most concrete hearts melt into a puddle of cement 

unfortunately, it only earned him an icy cold glare from the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen 

oh, how he wished they would be filled with adoration instead of annoyance 

the girl it’s been so long since we specified genders scoffed at him, then returned to chatting with her friends 

Donghan felt a pang of guilt - an emotion he rarely felt 

he slipped back into his spot in the queue 

thankfully, Sanggyun and Hyunbin were too engaged in a chitchat to mind him much

staff came a few minutes later to clear the customers into the club 

Donghan ignored the bar and the impressive array of drinks, mood spoiled by the earlier interaction 

for the next half an hour, he spent it wallowing on the VIP room couch, crunching on the occasional snack 

red had spread across Sanggyun’s face like a sunburn as he sipped his brew

Hyunbin was more concerned about keeping his friends sober than drinking 

but we all know this boy can drink 

‘this is no fun,’ Sanggyun started to whine. ‘We came to forget about being sad but we’re just crying in the club.’ 

‘it’s better than sobbing in the hospital,’ he added quietly 

• Hyunbin nudged Donghan in the ribs. ‘Come on, our little seducer, who do you fancy tonight?’ 

Donghan stared off into space, propping his face in his hands, his mind not even pondering about it. 

carelessly, he replied, ‘I’ll talk to whoever walks through the doors next.’ 

that person would mostly be someone he was already acquainted with 

you had to be extraordinary to access the VIP lounge 

TriK was no exception 

His friends snickered. ‘Done deal.’ 

Donghan did NOT expect the next person to be you 

he regretted his words

such an impetuous comment, what a grave mistake 

Sanggyun threw his hands into a clap, pouting lips tugged into a smirk

‘there’s your target, Romeo.’

swearing, Donghan took a sip of Hyunbin’s beer

he observed as you approached the private bar and perched on one of the barstools, chatting up the mixologist like he was your best friend 

nerves began to settle into his stomach like never before 

whatever  

I’ve done this more than a billion times, what could be so different about this one? 

Donghan moved to the twin barstool before anyone else could take his place 

he winked at the bartender, cueing his usual drink 

seeing it was the insolent young man you had previously encountered, you edged further away from him 

‘waiting for someone?’ 

you turned at the sound of his deep voice, meeting his sultry smirk and dark eyes 

sucking back a snarky reply, you only uttered a finite ‘yes’. 

‘shall I accompany you?’ 

such a try hard 

you refrained from rolling your eyes, instead, you sent a killer smile his way

‘no need. I don’t associate myself with people like you,’ you bit back 

ouch,,, that has got to sting 

panicked, Donghan sampled his drink, brain clogs reeling to come up with an answer 

he feigned nonchalance, shrugging his shoulders which shifted his shirt to show off a pair of defined collarbones 

‘excuse me.’ you began to slip out of your seat. ‘I came here with a purpose and with friends, so...I’m not wasting any more time with you.’

arrows shot into Donghan’s heart and smashed it into smithereens 

the feeling he had was completely foreign, they felt like cupid’s arrows 

he was baffled by the new wave of emotions 

hmm cupid had spoken, there would be another chance won’t there be?

~

‘who cares?’ your best friend yelled after hearing your story. ‘He’s so hot! There won’t be any strings attached anyway. That’s why we came anyway, isn’t it?’ 

you cringed, pulling a face at her reaction 

he was kind of hot though...

‘you HAVE to grab him before others do! I see he’s caused quite a stir.’ 

her words were true, quite a number of people swarmed that guy and his bunch of friends as they emerged from the VIP lounge 

I’ll see if he makes a move first 

your glass slams down on the table, making your way to the dance floor 

across the club, Donghan spots your figure immediately

he keeps his eyes trained on you as you sway to the music, moving your hips to the beat 

to your surprise, Donghan simply flittered off into the crowd without even making eye contact 

oh 

disappointment flooded you for some odd reason 

an hour ago, you were disgusted by his presence and even shooed him off 

now, you wanted his attention...desperately 

blame the hormones 

still, this sort of behaviour was so unlike yours

@ spiked alcohol 

don’t spike anyone’s alcohol, that shit ain’t cool and it’s so gross and uncalled for 

you retired to a quieter corner of the bar, feet aching from the killer heels 

you felt someone’s arm lean against the bar counter, trapping you in your seat 

‘where’s your friend?’ the same voice asked. 

‘hmm, not here right now,’ you whispered, voice low. ‘But you are.’ 

Donghan chose to ignore your latter comment, playing hard to get. 

‘having a fun night?’ he made sure his eyes met yours for at least 10 seconds before breaking away for 11 seconds 

you paused, deliberating on your answer. 

yes or yes but in italics

doing something crazy for once wouldn’t hurt you 

‘no,’ you replied, tone huskier than before. ‘not without you.’ 

damn sweetie wyd

before you knew it, Donghan’s lips were inches away from yours, beckoning you to close the gap 

ask before you kiss anybody 

your lips captured his and his hands trailed down the curves of your waist, finding their seating on your hips 

I’m reading my bible 8 times after this brb 

he tasted like sour lemon and spicy vodka, tampered with a hint of cherry cola 

his lips were plump and experience, puckered at a certain angle, tilted to a certain degree 

it was electrifying, terrifying almost 

unintentionally, you pressed closer to him, only craving more 

and causing a whirlwind of pretty butterflies to flutter in his stomach 

idk shit abt kissing too i’ve only kissed my dog 

Donghan finally pulled away to catch a breath, his hands left your form and rested on the seat of the barstool instead 

*denies second kiss* • he was toying with you, making you crave more, driving you insane with his teasing 

‘tell me your name,’ you demanded, cheeks heating up 

he chuckled in response, deep and growly yet playful 

‘It’s Donghan.’ 

Donghan moved to the other side of the bar, possibly only to get water but you followed him - not with just your eyes

he kept you company, offering small tipsy talk but refused any of your further advances 

from time to time, he made a flirtatious remark or played with your hair, maybe dropped a compliment or two

you forced yourself to respond neutrally to them 

eventually, his friends caught up with him

one was flushed pink and the other was supporting him 

they needed him to leave 

‘when will I see you again,’ you blurted out. ‘I want to.’ 

Donghan only smiled, giving your hand a light squeeze 

it was unclear if his gestures were out of assurance or a farewell  

you had to see him 

some unexplainable attraction willed you to 

you would hanker after him if you had to 

‘you want to know more, you’ll have to cave into the chase, sweetheart.’ 

how sweet 

you didn’t understand why people got themselves dead drunk at clubs when they could do this instead

[daddyconfessions]

daddy’s journal 3/16/16

daddy’s journal 3/8

Thursday Mar 2nd Bubbles hit me up today around 9am and told me she couldn’t make it. She’d gone out with Piper and had stayed out too late. Her and Piper had been hanging out a lot. I guess that explained all the drunk texts she’d sent the other night. I couldn’t be bothered though. I was busy looking at job ads.

I had a lot on my mind. The more I looked at jobs the more I realized I desperately needed to get in with some recruiters if I wanted to improve my chances. I hit up Firecracker to let her know I was free. She told me she couldn’t make it and had plans to volunteer somewhere. About an hour later she asked if she could have extra money. Something about needing to buy a ticket for a trip with her friends. I told her it was cool. Then a couple of hours after that, she texted me again to tell me she was having a weird discharge and needed to go to the doc and get it checked out.

I asked if she had a STD.  That didn’t go over well. We got into an argument, mostly her calling me out for thinking of her that way as well as her making it very clear no one was hitting the kitty uncovered.  She stopped texting me suddenly. I figured she was mad so I left it alone.  I had always used a condom so I wasn’t really too worried. Still she was acting weird af.

Napoleon came into my office not too long after that. We had a brief discussion about the next meeting with the Russian’s as well as the Board of Directors meeting next week. He seemed jovial with me, not at all like a guy who wanted me gone. Maybe I was just being paranoid about my job. Still when he left, I got up and cleaned my office some more. Tomorrow could be the big day.

Later that evening, I went home and spent about an hour with the family before I poured myself some Crown Royal and coke, grabbed a Cohiba and went out on the front porch. Nothing clears the mind like a little crown and coke and some of Cuba’s finest.  I was feeling sporty after that. My mind was clear. FC was tripping. Bubbles cancelling left and right.  What’s a SD to do? Time to get online.

I played around on CL for kicks. I didn’t expect much. Usually sugardaddy posts get deleted within the first hour of being posted. But I came up with a snazzy title that would pass cursory inspection and posted it. Then I got back on SA, paid for my membership. Then I logged into SD.com and looked around. I toyed with the idea of going to this bar known for being a sugarbabe hook up spot. But I needed to get a bit prepared for that so I passed. Truthfully, I can’t handle another SB but the way FC and Bubbles are going, it’ll be over soon.

While I was playing around, FC got back to me telling me she didn’t have any STDs and then launched into some long tirade about the doc saying her body was going through changes, hormonal and what not, and reacting to the weight gain she’d had as well as her period being out of sync. I apologized for insinuating she might’ve had something. She told me she needed a break to let things clear up. It all sounded suspicious to me. But in the absence of more info, I had to go along with it.

Friday Mar 4th The big day. My office is clean af. If I get sliced all I needed to do is grab some pics and a bag and I’m out.

10am. 11am. Noon. Nothing. 1pm. Still nothing.

I get  text from FC saying her period finally started. I didn’t even respond. I’m starting feel like I’m in a chess game.

2pm. I realized my boss had gone home for the day. Guess I wasn’t getting fired after all. I get a text from Bubbles. Hadn’t thought much about our date that day. I took a Lamar Odom and an hour later I was heading out the door to meet her. Can’t believe I overreacted like that about my job. Guess my paranoia got the better of me. But Bubbles hadn’t cancelled again so not a bad end to the week. It dawned on me that I hadn’t had any kitty all week.

When I got to the restaurant Bubbles had already gotten the table/booth. I like that shit. Most SBs will be late. Or if they get there first they’ll stay in the car until you arrive or wait in the sitting area. No way their getting a table and you ain’t there. Not Bubbles. I liked her style.  The way the booth was made it sat sideways so you could see the whole restaurant. We sat back and people watched while we sipped our drinks, ate and kissed. Bubbles doesn’t have any problem with PDA. We must have tongued each other down several times throughout the early dinner. Sharing the sweet taste of our drinks on each others lips and tongue. Several other tables kept looking over at us. It was kind of fun. Wild. Definitely a thrill. An elderly couple kept looking over too. Not in disgust more out of curiosity. Bubbles is a pretty girl. She’s skinny as a toothpick but she’s pretty af. The old heads were probably wondering why an old scrub like me was getting that young kitty….$$$$

Bubbles kept checking her phone. She apologized. Told me her son had a fever from some shots he’d just gotten and she was constantly checking on him. I honestly keep forgetting she has a 6 month old. You’d never know she had a newborn the way she looked. She doesn’t have a stretch mark on her body. Her stomach was flat as a board. I asked Bubbles about the other night with her girlfriend. She and Piper had gone out with some rich record exec. You’d probably know him or one of his artists if I mentioned them. Pipers the type that can’t handle her alcohol though so when she got drunk she started fighting with everyone including Bubbles. Bubbles was trying to calm her down and talk sense into her. Piper hadn’t backed down, got mad at Bubbles and took her phone and threw it across the room, shattering the screen. Some other stuff happened including Piper cursing out some of the security guards and other guys at the table. The big Exec told security to throw her out but they didn’t want Bubbles to go. They wanted her pretty little ass to stay. Bubbles couldn’t let her friend be outside, drunk, by  herself so she went with her even though the entourage wanted her to say. They took uber to get there and hate to wait until another Uber to come which was almost an hour later.

I took the opportunity to bring up some serious concerns. “I’m don’t know if I can compete with your circle of friends,” I told her. “You’re hanging out with rich dudes. Famous and shit. Not to mention they know other famous people. Money aside, I couldn’t come close to that kind of lifestyle.” She touched my hand and pursed her lips. “Oh babe its not like that. Those guys aren’t my type. I’m not into the thugged out, gold chain wearing, baggy pants type of guys. These guys got tats everywhere and they treat girls like shit. Besides, just because they have money doesn’t mean they’re going to be doing anything for you. I keep telling Piper that. They just want some pussy and when their done with you you’re gone.”

“Well I was just wanting to bring it up,” I said. Truth is I’m tired. In the old days a bloke could shell out some cash and have a good time with a girl. Spoil her to death and not worry about all the drama the sugarbowl has now. But now its mad drama and all this unnecessary competition. Not to mention all the games both SBs and SDs try to do to each other. Its enough to drive a man crazy. I told her what I was thinking and added, “I know hanging with Piper gets you into the inner circle and all that. But from my past experiences, its tiring competing with celebrities. Not to mention the lifestyle they have to offer. It gives me a headache just thinking about it.”

She shook her head. “No. Piper’s just a groupie. She’s my girl but I gotta be honest. Besides, since I’m not doing anything when we go out its getting harder and harder to hang with her. I’m like the 3rd wheel. And all of these guys don’t give a shit about her. They even hit on me in front of her and she just laughs it off. Honestly, I’m sort of getting tired of it but Piper’s my girl. And she knows people that knows people. If we ever needed to get into a club, backstage at a concert, all we have to do is ask her.”

“The benefits of being a groupie,” I said. We both laughed. She put her hand on my thigh and rubbed it. “But really babe, you don’t have anything to worry about. I already have my lover.” She lifted her glass and said, “To us.” I lifted mine and we clicked glasses. Then we kissed again, the sweet taste of the drinks on our lips made the kisses that much sweeter.

We talked a bit more about Piper, celebs and our situation. Suddenly, Bart was hard as a rock. The Lamar Odom’s had kicked in. I was ready to fuck.  

From there we headed to the hotel. Lots of kissing and tonging before we moved to the bed. I couldn’t wait to lick the kitty. But she stopped me. Told me she was still spotting. Damn. Can a Daddy get a break this week? WTF?  I couldn’t even hit it. She decided to just give me fellatio. I’d love to blog about how I licked the kitty. Sucked the clit. But no. No fun filled evening of me trying to get inside that tight kitty. She gave me brains, but I wasn’t that into it tbh. I wanted some kitty.  “I’m sorry baby,” she said, stopping, my tip less than an inch from those pretty lips. “I’m not usually this bad of a fuck. Its just that I haven’t been that active…” Poor girl had to work hard to get ol Bart to cum. And when I came it was nothing spectacular. I can’t say she did  a bad job…more like I was just wanting more that evening.

“I’m sorry. I promise I’m not this bad…” she kept saying. She said two more times and then, “I promise I’m not usually this lousy. I switched BC and its got my body all weird. That’s why I’m spotting.” For a minute I was thinking her and Firecracker were collaborating. “I’m sorry if I keep cancelling. It’s just hard with my work, my son and my friends.” The look on Bubbles face was of pure worry. I could tell she really felt like she was disappointing me. I told her to relax. I was patient. Low key I suspected a threesome was in my future. The thought alone of a 3 way was enough to make even the most impatient man wait. Then she promised things would be better tomorrow. But that would never happen….

Saturday Mar 5th By noon Bubbles cancelled again. Her son was still running a fever and she didn’t feel right leaving him again. It was cool. She was probably still spotting. I also had several messages from my CL ad and some hits of SA. I’d forgotten I had even been playing around on the sites.

No point in wasting a perfectly good Saturday afternoon : ) I poured myself some more Crown & Coke, sat down in my office and I spent the afternoon talking to some POTs. The stuff from CL was admittedly just garbage. Mostly girls looking to catch a date. The only hopeful one was this mid 40’s chick. She was kind of liking the fact that I was so young. Her last SD was in his mid 50s so she was interested in seeing how this would turn out. She was ready to meet to. Said she was going out with the girls and wondered if I could meet her at the bar. Old cougar. I call her Tigress. I declined to meet though. I wasn’t really sure if I wanted to go that route. Old chicks be on something else. And, its been awhile since I was involved with someone over 30.

Sunday Mar 6th FC texted me and she felt like things were over. I took that as an indication she wanted to end things. She told me she felt guilty the last few weeks. That was right around the time I’d bought her a new Louis bag. I recalled she had been shocked I had bought it. She was happy too but I could see something in her eyes that something was wrong. Now it all made sense. She felt like she hadn’t deserved it. “I just don’t feel like I can give you everything you want,” she said.

The funny thing this all I ever really wanted was her. It was never something complicated.

But I was tired. Whatever was going on with her had taken its toll on me. I figured she had a new SD or a new fuckboy. Either way it was probably best to end things. I cared for Firecracker but I wouldn’t be a fool for her. Not with so much other kitty around me. She told me she wanted to remain friends and that if I wanted to have lunch or sex one day then to hit her up. We sort of ended it right there.

I was sad. I even posted this journal entry just to vent. She was my princess and now she was gone….

The week was off to a fucked up start.