#light pole banners

[k12academics]

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[bestbannerbuy]

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[starsoftheeye]

I'm planning out a Drifting Stars fic rn, so here's a snippet of the first chapter because I need to post something about this fic. This is a first draft so it may change but I'm pretty happy with it for now

“Woah, woah, hey what’s going on? Stanford!”

--------------

Stanley watched, anger melting to fear as his twin brother began to float backwards, as if being pulled by some invisible hand towards the glowing machine

He watched as his brothers face contorted into an expression of fear he had never seen on his face before. All those years, and Stanley had never seen his bother look so afraid. Not like this. Not even as a kid hiding himself from the other kids their age, as a teenager watching him out the window of a house no longer a home, not even just a few minutes prior, so overcome with paranoia that he would think Stanley would ever want to hurt him. No, Ford had never looked so scared in his life, and Stanley had never known a fear like this himself

“Stanley! Stanley, help me!”

“Help me!!”

His brother, his twin brother, was floating away too fast and too slow all at once. His brother, who had grown up with him, who had abandoned him, who had came to him for help when he didn’t know who else to trust, was floating backwards into an oblivion of light, and Stanley felt powerless to do anything

“Oh no, what do I do?”

“What do we do?”

“Stanley! Stanley!”

Ford was thrashing in the air, desperately trying to push himself forward, but to no avail. He kept drifting backwards, and now he was beginning to submerge into the portal, the light around him rippling like he was being lowered into a pool

“Do something!”

“We gotta do something!”

Stan looked around for something, anything that he could use. A rope, a pole, something for Ford to hold onto, to keep him out of whatever hell was on the other side of the portal, but there was nothing he could use. And his brother continued to drift backwards, slowly being consumed by swirling blue light

“Stanley!”

“Grunkle Stan!”

Stan looked at his great-niece, his sweet great-niece who wore hand-made sweaters, and knitted him “Our Hero” banners, who named a pig Waddles and was so excited to start highschool, and he saw the same fear in her eyes as his brother all those years ago

He was held back by more than his own uselessness this time, gravity crushing him into the pipe behind him, keeping him in place, keeping him from running forward, from shutting down the damn portal, keeping him from saving another piece of his world pulled into the unknown back by the same cruel hand that had held his brother

“Grunkle Stan, how do we stop it? How do we save her?” Dippers voice was so far away yet so clear, and yet Stan couldn’t say a word

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen

She was just a kid

It was like 30 years had never passed, and he was still the same piece of shit who couldn’t protect his family

She was looking straight at him, and the look on her face would be burnt into his mind for the rest of this life. Begging him to do something, anything, to help her somehow

“Mabel, grab something! Anything!”

But he couldn’t

“I can’t!”

Goddamn it, he couldn’t do anything

“We gotta shut it down, we gotta shut it down!!”

Curse this stupid gravity, he had to help her!

“I can’t move, dude!”

He couldn’t take losing one more person

“Help me!!”

Not her, please god not her

“Mabel!”

No, no, no!!

“Dipper!!”

Blinding light. Complete silence.

Then everything came crashing down at once. And Mabel was gone

[charles-leclerizz]

TRAILER : THE BEGINING

🏁 Content warnings : Swearing.

🏁 Spoiler alert : Please read the masterlist, Character sketch and Team sketch to understand.

🏁 Genre : Drama, Action, Sports

🏁 Reading time : 15 minutes, 6 seconds

🏁 Word count : 3.0.k (3021 words)

🏁 Chapter summary : It all begins now.

🏁 Author's note : So, this is it, welcome to the beginning of this wild ride. Just wanted to explain a few things [so skip this right now if you're not really interested, no hard feelings !] Now, this format is probably confusing, basically the first part of this is the trailer, how it would look on Netflix, the actual video/film. And the writing after the banner, Behind the Scenes, is literally behind the scenes, what isn't shown on camera. Second, this whole series is meant to be very dramatic, it's entertainment made by "Netflix" [not really, please don't sue me] for God sake. With all that said, Enjoy!

Masterlist · 🪷 Aisha · 🪷 Porsche F1 Team · 🪷

[Please play this song whilst reading the trailer & feel free to stop once we get behind the scenes with the drivers !]

The screen fades from black to show a Porsche F1 car skidding down the track, the sound of screeching rubber against the tarmac harmonises with the energetic music that pumps behind the video.

Circular shots of a driver climbing out of the car from different angles flash across, and just before they tug off their helmet the scene changes to the paddock, pit crew, mechanics and drivers rush past in a blur, their differently coloured uniforms merge together like lights in a city scape. Suddenly, everything stops and the music fades away momentarily.

“In the fast-paced world of formula 1,”

Scenes of driving legends hoisting up their trophies with happy grins and champagne soaked racing gear flash past. Ayrton Senna, Michael Schumacher, Kimi Räikkönen.

“Where every second counts and emotions run high.”

The grating sounds of cars speeding past bursts into the frame, Max Verstappen shaking his fists ambitiously as he wins, yet another grand prix, Charles Leclerc as he wins in Spa and Monza, Carlos sainz and Lando Norris partnering up in the Singapore 2023- “Yeah, it’s on purpose.” The Spaniard grits out just as the narrator begins to speak again.

“Our team is about to redefine the game,”

The narrator is revealed, a woman, tall and proud as she sits in front of a grey backdrop. Her blonde hair is cut to a sharp bob and her glasses, astute and black sit high on her nose as she laughs jauntily and arches a well-managed, bleached brow at one of the three camera’s recording her, “Is that good?” she huffs out, thick Manchester accent shining through her cheerful words.

Black takes over once again, and the Indian flag, flapping in the wind from a tall pole that reaches high into the sky is shown, the bright, proud colours shining against the pale, blue sky. The camera pans down to the bottom of the ground, where the same driver,who was emerging from the car in the begging is looking up, at their flag.

But instead of their helmet securely fastened around their face, it’s held between the crook of their elbow and waist. The white base is glossy as multiple sponsor logos are littered around the entire frame, along with the black, bold letters “PATEL” being showed off at the back, currently visible to the camera along with the behind of the driver’s racing suit.

The shot pans up, revealing long flowing hair, black thick strands a contrast to her off white racing suit. The same flag peeks out from between the chunks of her fluttering locks, large and proud on the expanse of her back. The driver begins to turn and just as her red painted lips come into view the scene changes and a different narrator begins to speak again.

“From the makers of 'Drive to Survive' comes a new Netflix Original Series that takes you behind the scenes of the most exhilarating sport on the planet.”

Scenes of the woman running across the paddock and into her garage, her teammate not far behind overlay the announcement.

Another moment is revealed, this time of her ducking into her car, glove covered hands braced on the halo as her face turns upwards towards a racing engineer who speaks to her. She nods before turning to look directly into the camera and lowering herself into the cockpit.

The woman begins to speak again, "Aisha is our trailblazer in Formula 1.”

The iconic lights of Formula one begins to count down as the mechanical ticking echo throughout the grand-stands and the camera goes to shoot the anticipatory lull in the air as spectators hold their breath whilst the engines start up and the last light dims.

“She’s smashing stereotypes and racing towards victory.” The team principal shakes her head, a soft, proud smile playing on her light pink lips.

The team car revs menacingly as the gaggle of drivers manoeuvre their way through turn one of Bahrain.

The Porsche chassis glows between the unmanageable scuffle of the other 18 cars on the track, as both team racers attempt to come out on top in the dangerous pile of engines, the expectant victor of the throng doesn’t appear, the deep blue red bull is yet to emerge. The crowd gasps and cheers as the true victor begins to approach the next turn, speeding down the straight.

The camera catches the proud logo on the side of the car, “Porsche” and on the back, as the DRS begins to activate, the opened flap reveals, “Patel”.

“I just hope people are ready to see her in action. Because she isn’t stopping anytime soon" She stares into the camera as her name appears on screen, a small box enveloping the words, “Katherine Anderson, Porsche team principal.”

Finally, the rumoured driver comes into the scene, walking up to the stool as the camera drags up her slack clad legs, the cream material swishes by her ankles along with the golden payaal that jingles with each step of her stiletto heels against the floor. Her torso is revealed slowly, a tight top hugs her bust whilst the printed Porsche logo morphs against the curves of her chest. The varied tennis barcelets and charmed jewellery around her wrist titillate together as she takes a seat on the chair, and her face is revealed.

She squints her eyes and brings a manicured hand up to push away the straightened hair from her lips, her mouth purses as the unintelligible voice of the producer talks to her, whilst her eyelashes flutter and she hums in agreement.

“So, I just talk?” She asks, pointing a finger at the camera that faces her before blotting the lipstick on her lips. She nods once as the cameraman confirms.

“My name,” She tilts her head as she smiles, perfect, white teeth shining underneath the light, “Is Aisha Patel, and I drive for Porsche F1 Team.”

The camera cuts again, showcasing Aisha on the podium, pushing a large trophy up into the air as her teammate, Pierre cheers and sprays champagne on her stomach from his place on the “2nd” platform. She shakes her head and laughs as her entire head becomes soaked with the bubbly, sweet drink. Multiple identical shots are placed one after the other, of her standing proud and sweaty on the 1st place podium.

“I’ve worked my ass off,” Aisha’s voice over-runs the music, “And I’ll be damned if anything stands in my way.”

She squares her shoulders as she unzips her racing suits and bunches it up at her waist as she stomps over to Max Verstappen, the Dutch man looking equally malicious as his blue eyes roll with annoyance and already red face puffs out intimidatingly.

She pokes a finger into his fire-proof covered chest as she begins to shout, ignoring the worried stares of the crew around her in the Red-Bull garage. Max spits out the long, twirling straw from between his lips and begins to argue back.

Her mouth moves angrily as she goes to snatch the can of branded drink from his tense hands, throwing the sugary drink in his face, thoroughly dousing the shouting man and reducing him to a spluttering mess as she stomps away, flipping off one of the camera’s that eagerly follows her.

The narrator returns, his deep timbre rumbling through the video, “But the road to victory is never easy, as Aisha navigates through rivalries, scandals, and the pressure to perform.”

The scene switches to Aisha rushing out of a hotel in England, the night before Silverstone and the odd, overwhelming flashes of hounding reporters seem to be tuned out of her gaze as Lando runs behind her, grabbing helplessly at her hand whilst tears stream down her flushed face.

Her hair is mused and makeup runs haphazardly across her tan skin, she wretches her wrist out of the man’s grip, shaking her head as her lip wobbles. She covers her eyes before dodging and weaving through the paparazzi, barely able to mumble polite, “excuse me’s” from between erratic sobs, as she unlocks her expensive car and slips into the driver’s seat.

The second shot is of her and Carlos, hand in hand as her shoulders begin to shiver in his hold whilst she adjusts the heavy cardigan that hangs limp from her shoulders. The Spaniard’s face is tough and rocky as his hands comes to embrace her upper arm, cradling her against his side whilst the rest of the drivers begin to flee the racetrack, already tired from the latest qualifying session.

Yet, the papparizzi continue to hound the pair mercilessly, Aisha hides her face as the man beside her stops his firm footsteps and turns to a reporter from a less respectable news channel, the sleezy jounarlist gulps but stands his ground as he pushes his microphone forward. Carlos glances down at the tech with disgust, and just before he opens his mouth, the scene ends, and we’re taken back to Aisha who sits contently in the interview.

“In this world, you must fight for every inch. And I'm ready to fight, no matter the cost.”  She smirks at another camera, her side profile showing off noticeable details over the expanse of her face like the sharp cut of her nose and the splattering of freckles across her cheekbones along with the odd beauty marks spotted above her lip and a few inches from her nose.

The final shot is off Aisha climbing out of the Porsche car, removing her helmet, allowing her hair to flow over her shoulder and down her back as she tilts her head at the camera and leans back against the pale white halo of her car.

She then crooks her finger at the viewers, gesturing for the cameraman to follow her hand as she holds up a singular finger, and points upwards towards the sky.

The shot is then of the of the expansive indiago above, and through the magic of editing, the Porsche logo takes up the screen.

“Get ready to experience the thrill, the passion, and the drama of Formula 1 like never before.” The narrator ends his sentence powerfully as the crescendo of the song reaches its peak.

“This is 'Formula for Love'.” Aisha ends the trailer, waving at the camera before the video is overtaken with black once again.

The title card appears, “Formula for love – A netflix original series”.

As the words disappear, a shot of Aisha’s car speeding off into the distance after which a mechanical, “Streaming soon, only on Netflix.” ends the trailer.

Aisha sighed, tapping her thighs as the filming concluded and many on-set employees rushed to her side, patting at her face along with offering her a can of thumbs up, the condensation runs down the metallic container and onto her fingers.

“Thank you, guys so much,” Aisha sipped at the straw protruding from the can in her hand before smiling at the people who merely stared at her, already putting away their various tools. A compact snapped shut, a damp towel thrown over a shoulder and a camera cover flipped closed.

Aisha sucked in a breath, flicking her eyes over the workers before looking over at Kate, who was signing a paper handed to her on a writing board.

She chuckled at Aisha’s worried expression and the silence that hung in the air, “It’s okay,” she assured the driver, who looked relieved as the people recovered and retreated away from the filming set, going back to their stations.

“They aren’t very used to people thanking them.” Kate shrugged, “They reacted like that to me as well,”

“Oh, thank God,” She patted her chest as she waved at the director, who smiled back and showed her a happy thumbs up, “This is all so new to me.” Aisha tugged at her hair as Kate pulled up her phone and scrolled through her calendar.

“Don’t worry too much about its Aisha, you’ll get there.” She rubbed the nervous driver’s arm and hissed when her phone vibrated, “I have to go, so much to get done before our first season,” Kate shook her head, wishing Aisha goodbye as she walked out of the trailer and out towards their still concealed garage.

Aisha hummed distractedly, before realising she had no idea what to do once Kate had walked away, “Wait!” But the team principal had already left, “Damn it,” She bit her nail once, handing off her empty can and plucking out her phone from her pocket.

“Oh, there you are.” A media manager bounded up to Aisha, surprising the woman as she jumped and whipped her head around to the approaching worker, “The driver’s briefing is about to begin,”

The man waved a hand at his face before pinching his Porsche x Adidas apparel between his fingers and forcing air between the material and his chest. He was likely middle aged, and sported dark brown hair with peppery roots and salted strands that peeked out from between the chocolatey curls.

He showed her his F1 team ID and stopped fanning himself to usher her with his hand.

“Shit- okay,” Aisha stuffed her phone away, following him out of Netflix filming trailer, out to the dark murky sky above the paddock, towards another building.

The office was tall and white, covered with floor to ceiling windows that were shielded with a layer of reflective film, “Oh God.” Aisha murmured beneath her breath as she took a few calming breaths, already forgetting to trail behind the man who was staring at her impatiently whilst holding the door open, watching as she stared at the building by straining her neck upwards.

She prepared herself, flapping her hands around slightly and jolting when the manager cleared his throat.

“Please hurry Miss. Patel. It won’t look good if you’re late.”

“I know, I know.” Aisha repeated, assuring the increasingly nervous man who walked up to her.

“It will be okay,” He laid a hesitant hand on her shoulder, taking an exemplary deep breath for her to copy. He continued when she did, “I’m Harry, sorry for not introducing myself, and I will be in charge of all media at Porsche.”

“Okay?” Aisha shook her head a few times to clear her mind, “Meaning?”

Harry chuckled and hung his head, “Meaning. That I’ll be with you in there. You won’t be alone.” He pointed a finger at himself, “See, you already have a familiar face to look for,” His slightly aged face wrinkled happily when Aisha smiled at him and relaxed visibly beneath his comforting hold.

“Thank you, Harry,” She huffed and stood straighter, “Let’s do this.”

Her heels clicked beneath her confident steps as she thanked the man who held the door open for her and Harry, who walked contently behind her.

Aisha craned her head around the bend, following the acrylic signs that read, “Driver briefing – Conference room 1.” She adjusted her shirt, feeling, for the first time in forever, conscience of her clothing and slipped a thumb beneath the waistband of her slacks to adjust them slightly.

“Let’s do this,” She pushed at the milky white door, steeling her face with a bored, neutral expression just as her name was called out, most likely for rollcall.

But, Aisha stopped in her tracks, the door barely nudged open when a flurry of deep chuckles and whispers erupted at the sound of her name.

“Seriously? Is this what fans are doing now?” The speaker rolled his “r’s” whilst shaking his head.

“How much do you think that cost them?” An oddly familiar British voice mumbled whilst crossing his arms and nudging the man next to him.

And one of them groaned and slapped his thigh once, complaining about “-needing better media stunts.”

Aisha scoffed quietly, so these were some of her heroes? Assuming that a woman could never possibly be selected to race, instead she was an obsessive fan who had shrines for each of the men stashed in her closet?

She pushed open the door, causing a few drivers to rustle and shift in their seats and turn minutely towards the sound of the door hinges, opening and closing.

Aisha walked forward and planted a hand on her hip, leaning onto one leg as each of the men looked towards her with annoyed expressions.

“I’m sorry, fans aren’t allowed here.” A French man, dressed in glaring red began to stand up, nodding discreetly at the security men flanked at either side of the doors- who glanced at each other hesitantly and barely moved at his guidance, obviously recognising her, “How did you even get in?”

“Ridiculous what they’ll do for an autograph,” Another one stood, and stared at her thunderously, his Dutch accent causing him to lisp his angry words, “All right, time to go.” He was the first to directly address the security, “Guys, get her out.”

Aisha held up her hand, between her fingers a prestigious card stood proud, the F1 logo bedazzled in gold foil, shimmered beneath the yellow lights, she glanced over her shoulder at the burly, guards who relaxed at her identification.

“Aisha Patel?” She looked to the FIA officer who stared at her, amused with her entrance before ticking off her name, “Porsche F1 driver.” She announced her title, smirking with slight arrogance at the gob-smacked expression on both the French and Dutch men, both of whom flushed an embarrassed red and muttered apologies whilst returning to their seats, next to both of their teammates.

“I’m here for the briefing?” Aisha prompted the officer, before smiling at the rest of her fellow drivers, most of them attempting to suppress their cackles at the other two’s mistake.

“Yes, of course Miss Patel,” The man greeted her, gesturing to an empty seat next to Pierre who smirked at Aisha.

She began to walk down the walkway between the sets of chairs filled by F1 team personnel and racers, waving at a few of the managers from other teams who knew of her position and staring darkly at some drivers who looked her up and down with curiosity.

“Sorry for being late, I was busy paying of my debt. Do you know how much it costs to get your name on the register?” She leaned forward on her crossed knees, looking down the row with a sarcastic expression. The ones who did dare to meet her eyes mumbled in agreement and slumped against their seats.

“Fuck-“The driver who made the comment doubled over, hiding his freckle covered face in his hands, causing his bright orange athleisure jacket to stretch prompting his teammate to chuckle whilst patting his back.

honourary tags [for special pookies] : @disneyprincemuke, @weekendlusting, @woozarts, @mellowarcadefun, @paintedbypoetry, @33-81, @kazuha-pista-badam

A/N : And that's that, the first ever episode [trailer really] of this series is done and dusted. As always please show some love to this tinker-bell minded writer and remember to comment and reblog <33

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — GOJO x FEM READER 

Gojo deserves a trophy for winning his fight against Sukuna. You’re happy to deliver.

wc — 3.5k

tags — mdni, oral (m receiving) (sorry) but he makes it up to you, praise, possessive Gojo, vaguely inspired by fight club, violence (not towards reader), this is the result of me seeing the leaks so potential spoilers, banner art from Jen Mazza’s incredible Peripety collection, title from On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong

You never get used to Getou’s lavish den of iniquity, no matter how long it's been since you were first indoctrinated. Indoctrination is the right word, because it's less club than cult. Once you’re in, you never get out. 

Hakari’s just finished throwing some stranger out on his ass when he spots you. He jogs a little to get to the warehouse doors before you can and pulls them open, grinning when you thank him and slip inside. There’s a certain level of respect afforded you as someone who runs in the right circles. 

It’s Getou’s name, of course. Yuuji and Maki and all of them, too. But mostly, it’s being known as Gojo’s girl that gives you the reputation you have. No one touches you without consequences. No one even looks at you the wrong way without consequences. Gojo’s the reason you can sail into this cage of violence and immorality without a care in the world. 

“Over here,” Getou shouts over the din as soon as you walk in. 

As the manager of this, whatever this is (half fight club, half business frat, full of the depraved elite), he likes to keep an eye on who’s in and who’s out. Both of the doors, and of consequence. You’re, of course, in. 

He hands you his drink. It’s something blue, tastes vaguely like gin. There’s an ice cube shaped like an eyeball in it, lining up with his weird tastes. You hand it back to him with a nasty shudder once you see the price tag, caught off the menu some politician is flipping through to your right. He’s making a killing off fleecing his spectators between the entrance fee and the drinks. 

“On the house, pretty girl,” he says. “Get whatever you want.” 

Even if Gojo has a soft spot for him, he’s playing a dangerous game. That doesn’t stop you from ordering, nursing your drink as you wait for the match to start. The rest of the audience sits on rickety chairs lined up in front of the makeshift ring. Getou guides you to the VIP booth at the front with only slightly less rickety chairs before he heads off. He’s a busy man, and there’s quite a lot to prepare before the match starts.  

At heart, he’s a businessman, priest costume be damned.  He certainly has the funds to pay for a better set up, but why would he? The ambience of this place does something for the crowd. The smokey lighting, the run-down furnishings, the suspicious stains on the floor - they all live for it. This place feeds off violence and corruption, a dangerous thrum through the baseline of it all promising depravity.  

You can’t lie and say it doesn’t enthrall you, too. 

Otherwise, you wouldn’t be as attracted to Gojo as you are. 

He leans against the ropes in one corner of the ring, a little too tall to relax fully. You can tell it’s irking him from the little tick in his jaw that you like to kiss away once his matches are over. His white hair is down instead of slicked up, a sure tell that he didn’t prepare for this. It flops into his eyes. He needs a haircut, you note fondly. 

He’s all long, lithe limbs and lean muscle. His shirt is already off, draped over the pole. There’s an easy confidence even to the way he waits, like a tiger stalking prey. It’s the attitude of a predator. He knows he’ll win. If there’s a doubt in the minds of anyone in the crowd, he’ll prove it tonight, just as he proved it for his past 5 matches. 

It’s a problem that Sukuna looks just as tough. He has the eyes, as Getou taught you to watch out for when he helped you place your first bet. You can always tell if a fighter is in it for the adrenaline or the money by looking at their eyes. Sukuna looks like he’s in it because he likes the taste of blood. You suppress the chill that goes through you. 

Gojo’s little prodigies are seated next to you when they arrive, three of them in a neat little row. It makes you smile. Megumi protests any assumption that he cares for the man who took him in after he was orphaned, but he shows up to every single match without fail. The trio follow their mentor around like little ducklings to their mother, hoping to soak up every last drop of strength. 

Megumi’s won 2 out of his 4 matches this quarter, a great showing for a rookie. Some might say his strategy is working. Gojo is, however much he goofs off, a relentless teacher. 

“Hi,” he says. “Sorry we’re late.” 

You pull him into a hug. “No worries! It hasn’t started yet.” 

Yuki’s collecting bets for this match. You personally think it’s a dangerous move on Getou’s part. She’s just as likely to skim off the top as she is to steal the whole box and never come back. Maybe she’d move to Singapore again. 

“Who are you betting on?” She asks with a grin. 

“Who else?” 

For the first time in a while, you find a pretty even split between Gojo’s box and his opponents when you go to submit your bet. Usually, no one bets against Gojo. 

“I’m just letting you know cause you’re a pretty girl,” someone leers at you. “But Sukuna has something up his sleeve. I wouldn’t bet on Six Eyes if I were you.” 

“Fuck off, Mahito,” Yuki says. She makes a move to put down her clipboard and he turns tail. You would, too. You’ve seen her fights. “He’s on Sukuna’s side. Don’t listen to him.” 

The lights dim, and the talking quiets into a whisper. No one wants to miss a moment. 

Getou’s the perfect announcer. He knows how to work a crowd. You don’t know who writes his speeches, if he prepares at all, but he always knows the right thing to say to drive them insane. They’re half-frenzied, foaming at the mouth. 

It helps that there are two legends in the ring. 

“Sukuna, the King of Curses,” Getou announces. The only light in the arena centers over the ring, spotlighting the fighters. The crowd goes wild. Personally, you think ‘King of Curses’ is a little cheesy. It can’t be worse than your boyfriend, though.

“Versues Gojo, Six Eyes!” 

Six Eyes is not what you had wanted him to call his alter ego. It’s not nearly as cool as Infinity, which is what you were pushing for, but Gojo’s insistent. Besides, it’s not like anyone will laugh at him. 

It’s Gojo, after all. 

He’s the golden boy of the crowds at these matches. Celebrities pay top dollar to see him fight. You know the appeal. When you were a kid, horror movies used to make you sick. You couldn’t watch a minute of a slasher without feeling the need to close your eyes, but Gojo makes everything different. 

He makes violence into an art form. The line of his arm as his right hook smashes into his opponent’s face paints a silver arc into your eyes. He makes fighting look like a dance, or sex. There’s nothing quite so alluring as watching Gojo go head to head with someone. 

He pushes into their space with the sort of grace that you wouldn’t expect from someone who packs so much brute force behind a punch, managing to execute the cleanest strike every single time. There’s not a single wasted movement in the execution of his attacks. 

Go-jo. Go-jo. Go-jo. 

The crowd is chanting his name. Gojo is encouraging them, making a lap around the arena while Sukuna seethes. He raises his arm, asking for more, more. 

More of their love. More of their adoration. More of their awe. 

Gojo doesn’t fight for the fame or glory, but it definitely helps.  

“The great Gojo Satoru,” Sukuna says, posturing. “You look weaker than the last time I saw you.” 

His last match was Getou, one of the rare matches the announcer will actually participate in. It’s an indulgence he only affords his best friend. It was also the closest one Gojo’s ever had to call, though he won in the end. He always does. He has had an uninterrupted streak of victories from his very first moment in the ring, something no other fighter can claim. Rather than deign to give Sukuna an answer, he calls to someone else. 

“You lost to this, Megumi?” 

Megumi makes a noise of irritation that’s barely restrained by Yuuji tugging his attention away. He’s rarely hotheaded except when it comes to Gojo, who delights in riling him up to see him fight harder. 

“I know he has it in him,” he told you once. “He’s just intent on keeping it down. You gotta pry it out of the kid with a crowbar.” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t be pushing if he doesn’t want to fight,” you had said, amused despite yourself. 

“Nah. It’ll be good.” 

You haven’t seen one of Megumi’s fights yet, but Gojo’s are always a show. 

Sometimes, the less experienced will try to circle their opponents, showing off that they know how to corner someone. They’re too quick to anger, having something to prove. That pride will be their downfall. Others who have a little more time under their belt stand stock still, waiting for the first hit. They want to show off. Their opponents come to them, so they can project the confidence of someone who doesn’t need to attack first. 

It’s all an illusion. If they were really confident, they would be doing what Gojo and Sukuna are doing - brawling. They get dirty quick, swinging at each other with all their strength. 

Sukuna goes for a left-right, smashing through Gojo’s left side with a preliminary feint and trying to needle in a right punch just after. Nothing gets through Gojo’s defenses. It leaves faint red marks on his arms, but not much else. His blocks are perfect, as every other move in his arsenal is. 

Then it’s Gojo’s turn. His jabs are quick and fierce, landing in quick succession. You’ve heard Sukuna never stumbles, but it’s a near thing now as Gojo presses him hard. He takes the impact of one of the heavier hits in his stomach, a bad place. 

You can practically see the cockiness oozing off Gojo. He’s just about hitting his flow state. 

When Megumi touches your arm, you almost snap at him, though you know he’s only concerned for you. With the way you’re white-knuckling the armrests of your seat, anyone would be. You can’t help it. You’re completely unable to look away from the arresting sight of his figure. The way he leans into Sukuna’s blows, dodging them at the last second. His perfect hands, the bruises they leave behind. They all leave an indelible impression on your heart, as they have from his very first match you watched. 

There’s a shocking beauty in this world that you would’ve never realized if he never brought you here. It’s only here, among the most primitive forms of beauty, that you can witness life at its utmost, just flashes of it, all the more enticing for its transience. Gojo’s pale hand catches Sukuna across the throat, cutting off his air. Sukuna scrambles to fling him off. 

The image remains in your mind, appearing behind your eyelids every time you blink. Gojo’s winning, pushing Sukuna towards his corner of the ring. He has him on the defense. Gojo has you enthralled. You’re hungry for more, hungry for the very sight of him. 

Then, there’s a sickening crack as Sukuna’s fist makes contact with Gojo’s jaw, right at the corner of his mouth. His head shoots left, following the impact. You cringe at the solid, meaty noise the hit made. The roar of the crowd goes silent. Megumi especially cringes at the sight. His hand goes to his own cheek in sympathy. 

You always love these until this moment. 

Even Sukuna seems stunned, as if he didn’t actually expect to land that hit. He reacts more slowly than he normally does, retracting his fist instead of pressing his advantage. It’s almost like he’s suspicious. 

Gojo spits blood onto the floor and straightens up with a sanguine smile. “My students are watching. Hope you don’t mind if I get serious.” 

After that, Sukuna doesn’t stand a chance. 

Left kick. Right kick. Left punch. Right punch again, and again, and again. Sukuna can’t fend him off. Gojo lands the same hit over and over, completely blowing through his defenses. At some point, Sukuna’s head hits the mat so hard it looks like the threat of a concussion. Gojo doesn’t waste his chance. He pins him down so he can rain blows down on him. Sukuna tries and fails to buck him off, cursing. 

It’s more than a fight at this point, it’s an execution. He makes crushing a man like Sukuna look like child’s play. It’s a show, and you can’t help but wonder if it’s for you, even as around you, the surge of the crowd is proving otherwise. They congest the barriers, begging for more. 

Gojo looks into the screaming crowd. Half of them are on their feet, jumping up and down, roaring his name or title alternatively. Even Sukuna’s side looks caught between fear and awe. He doesn’t care about any of them. 

When he realizes you’re watching, he strikes the final blow. 

A perfect arc of shiny white flies across the ring and lands on the cement outside of it. Instantly, people are scrambling for the memento. It’s Sukuna’s tooth. 

He doesn’t get back up. 

Only Gojo looks up, grinning like the devil. 

There’s a fire burning in your gut. He’s sweeping the crowd for your face; when his eyes meet yours, you make sure he knows exactly what he’s going to get once you find him in the locker room. He grins, splitting a just scabbed wound so blood begins trickling into his teeth. It’s messy, it’s gross, you want to lick it off his face. 

“Please just go,” Nobara says, pained. “I can’t watch you two eyefuck for another second.” 

You don’t need another invitation. 

No one protests when you push your way past the door marked “PRIVATE” in obnoxiously red letters. They’re used to you. Besides, no one wants to get in the way of Gojo’s girl and have him find an issue with them outside the ring. It’s bad enough when there are rules - a private fight with him is an absolute no go. If anything, they see you and know it's time to head home before they’re subject to a scene they absolutely have no interest in seeing. 

He’s waiting in his dressing chair, but he makes it look like a throne. 

Before you even finish closing the door, he’s on you. You have to scramble for the handle so you can lock it through the blinding haze of his kiss, the crush of his gentle hands on your waist, your jaw as he tilts your head up. 

“Are you here to give me my reward?” He says when he finally pulls back, gasping for air the way he didn’t in the match. He hadn’t even broken a sweat. Something in you delights at being the one to pull this side of him out in a way that even Sukuna hadn’t been able to. 

“Get back on that chair,” you say. 

“Oh, baby. You know I love it when you’re bossy,” he coos, and then he’s not acting so cocky anymore because you’re pulling his boxers down. No one can get him to shut up unless it’s you, on your knees. He cups your jaw possessively as you lick your lips. 

He can’t help it. You’re sweet and soft and perfect for him, everything he wants. It helps that you’re good with your mouth, the result of hours of practice. When his cock hits the back of your throat, his fist clenches in your hair before he can stop himself. Muttered sorries can’t compare to the way his eyes are rolling back into his head, the way his head is tipped so far back you can clearly see the bob of his throat when he swallows. 

The effect you’re having on him only makes his effect on you worse. Your cunt throbs, empty, but you’re determined to give him what he deserves before you give yourself any attention. 

“You’re making such a mess,” he mutters, low and guttural as he watches you drool on his cock. “Just look at you, baby.” 

The pet name makes your pace stutter. He laughs at you, because he may be sweet on you specifically, but your boyfriend is an asshole in general, and sometimes he just can’t help it. You make him regret it, licking up the underside of his cock, tracing a sensitive vein with your tongue. 

His hands are petting over your hair, as soothing as the quiet praise he drops, always some variation of ‘pretty little thing’ or ‘my good girl.’ You’re gagging, trying to fit more. You are good, you think as you struggle, hollowing your cheeks around him. So good, just for him. He moans and his hips jerk forward with a sudden spasm. It pushes his cock further into your mouth, hitting impossibly deep. Even when tears well up in your eyes, you urge him on, hand on his thigh. Given permission, he fucks into your mouth with abandon. 

When he pulls you off, you whine without shame. 

“Don’t be like that,” he coos - he’s always cooing at you, always softening his words, giving you the best of him. “I’m going to give you what you need.” 

He bends you over the vanity so you can see your face in your mirror. Your cheeks are warm and your eyes slightly watery. His hands have tousled your hair so thoroughly you look debauched. You love it, especially when he slips a hand under your skirt and flips it up. 

“Cute panties,” he snickers. 

They’re the same blue as his eyes. 

“You would like them, you narcissist,” you shoot back. 

Your voice dies as he pulls them off. You’re so wet it leaves a string stretching between the fabric and your pussy, only breaking once Gojo impatiently rips it off of you. You can’t even be mad, you’re so desperate for him. 

He slides a thigh between your legs and presses you open until you’re spread wide for him, on full display. One large hand grips your hip in a way that makes your brain go hazy and stupid, seeing the splay of his fingers across your flesh. Possessive. 

He slips two fingers into you gently. It’s still not enough. You knew before you came to this room that you were ready, that you prepared for him, but he always insists on opening you up nice and slow. It’s a pleasure for him to first see the way you fall apart on his fingers, riding them like you’re mad for it. He’s not big on delayed gratification until it comes to you, and then he can be maddeningly patient. He curls his fingers just right until your legs are trembling with desire. 

“Enough,” you gasp. You’re clutching onto his forearm with shaky hands, trying to push him away even as your cunt is sucking him in. Gojo raises an eyebrow at the mixed signals you’re sending.   

“I barely started,” he says, amused. 

“But I want it now,” you whine. 

He never refuses you. You’re so wet that he should push into you easily, but he’s big enough that it punches the breath of you anyway. He stays there, waiting, while you shake through a mini orgasm, lightning traveling up your spine and nerves as you shiver apart. 

“Told you,” he says, unsympathetic even as he pets your thighs for your comfort. “This is what happens when you get greedy.” 

Even being put in your place like this doesn’t deter you. Before long, you’re pleading for more again, begging for him to split you open on his cock. He groans, playfully put upon. When he accidentally bumps your clit, you clench down on him so hard it finally shuts him up. You’re so full of him you can barely breathe, his hips finally flush to your ass. 

“Perfect little cunt,” Gojo hisses, drowning in you. His face is buried in the crook of your neck as his hips snap forward. He’s too wired to be gentle but you want it, crave it. You need to see him like he was in that arena, a brutal machine. “Made for me, aren’t you?” 

You mindlessly hum your agreement as both hands pin your hips down to the cool surface of his dressing table. You feel so good you can’t even think straight, every single thought in your head centering on the tension in your core. When he finally, finally gives you what you need, fucking you so hard the table shakes, you cum so quickly you can’t even warn him. Your cunt spasms around him as your eyes flutter shut. If he hadn’t been holding you open, your legs would’ve snapped shut around him. 

“Good, sweetheart?” He asks as you come down from your high. “Because I don’t think I’ve gotten my full reward yet.”

[luaspersona]

Snow Flower | kth (m)

pairing ↠ himbo!taehyung x reader (f. reader)

genre ↠ college!au; holiday!au; smut; humor; fluff; strangers to almost lovers to idiots to lovers; one-shot.

summary ↠ after making some terrible memories together, Taehyung wants nothing more than to never see you again; and he was pretty much succeeding — until he finds himself having to spend Christmas alone with you in the middle of nowhere.

rating ↠ +18

warnings ↠ taehyung is bi y’all; alcohol consumption; sexual tension; taehyung is a menace but he’s also stupid; some religious jokes are made; some kink shaming (tae is lowkey offended by furry kink?? idek); minor accident; very minor parent issues (this is really in the background, but i was going through stuff and writing it helped); a bunch of Christmas movies talk; taehyung is scared of grinch lol (i'm serious 💀); second hand embarrassment; pov switch; explicit smut (the warnings are long as fuck, so beware).

smut warnings 👀↠ mentions of anal; masturbation; orgasm denial; orgasm control; a whole lot of teasing; edging; dirty talk; pet names; soft dom!taehyung; switch!reader; fingering; light pussy slapping; nipple play; oral (f. and m. receiving); choking on cock; tae has a huge dick ‘cus it’s christmas and we deserve it; unprotected sex (pls don't do it. this is unhinged fiction); praise kink; marking; biting; light spanking; a splash of degradation (he calls reader a slut once); reader has sensitive thighs; tae has stamina for days; so much begging; a bit of overstimulation 'cus taehyung is a man on a mission; multiple orgasms; squirting; creampie; cum eating; it’s rough but it’s also super silly; they joke during sex, it's ridiculous; aftercare.

teaser ↠ (wc:0.8k) read it before to make sure this is for you ♡

word count ↠ 22k (7.5k are just smut y'all, i went off 🥴)

estimated reading time ↠ 60 minutes

note ↠ just wanna come out and say that i listened to mistletoe an unhealthy amount of times to get into the mood to write this and i think i’m damaged for life. also, i know it’s march lol, but i went through some shit™️ while writing this and it took some time to get back on track. to be honest, i almost gave up on this fic at least once a week, and it was hard as fuck to finish it. i struggled a lot with the plot until i was actually satisfied, but i'm pretty happy with how it turned out.

note² ↠ if this fic is finished, i have to thank @uarmymoonlight for lowkey bullying me into seeing this story through, always ready to motivate and help me brainstorm and fix plot points. you know i love you, and i hope you get a himbo to yourself one day. also wanna thank @vsualitae for being such a sweet listener, and for helping me through writer's block. you’re amazing, and i will cherish you forever, please don't give up on me because i'm terrible at replying.

note³ ↠ thank you again for @imakeamess for the amazing banner!

playlist ↠ this is what i think reader and tae’s playlist would look like

navigation | masterlist | permanent taglist | tell me your thoughts ♡

Jungkook suffering a car accident two days before Christmas was honestly so damn selfish of him.

It took five whole weeks of mature conversations (read: Jungkook calling Taehyung a pathetic little baby before resorting to messaging Taehyung’s mom) to convince Taehyung to go on this stupid Christmas trip to the middle of nowhere, only for Jungkook to think it’d be funny to drive his shit ass car straight against a light pole barely five minutes out of Soojin's dorm parking lot.

“You won’t be alone with her,” the asshole promised “Soojin and I will be there too”.

On top of that, Jungkook had the nerve to first go through a bunch of x-rays and cat scans before letting you and Taehyung — already settled in the shit chalet Soojin rented — know that him and Soojin would have to wait the 26th for the next bus to the hell hole that they mistook as a city, because no one in their right minds would willingly come here.

Well, of course Taehyung should’ve known that there was no way he could spend time in the same environment as you without wanting to kill himself: with or without Jungkook and Soojin, being reminded of your existence makes Taehyung feel nothing but nausea.

…

Ok, maybe he should rephrase that.

It’s not that he hates you, or anything. In fact, when Taehyung met you, hate was pretty much the opposite of what he was feeling. That night, in the frat’s living room, surrounded by dozens of other bodies as you danced to a song so loud he couldn’t even recognize, Taehyung swore you were the hottest, most sensual person he had ever seen.

It was one of the first times Taehyung went completely sober to a frat party, the only alcohol in his lips being the one he sucked straight out of your tongue. The choice of going teetotal had to do with the terrible lunch he made earlier that day that still rumbled in his stomach as he kissed down your chest (quick unrelated question: how much mayonnaise are you supposed to use in the pudding recipe to replace heavy whipping cream?).

Naturally, he couldn’t have thrown up before he went to the party — no, no, his stomach had to wait until you were straddling and grinding on him in one of the house’s empty bedrooms to push his excuse of a dessert out of his mouth.

Taehyung was pretty damn good at making up excuses to avoid people he slept with. But with you? He barely saw your tits and no fucking excuses were needed.

It took around two months for him to find his will to live again, and things started to go back to normal — until Jungkook started to date Soojin, that is. Don’t get him wrong, Taehyung loves Soojin and how she makes Jungkook happy and all that bullshit, he just hates the fact that she also happens to be your roommate.

[10:36] taehyung: jungkook how could u

[10:37] taehyung: i can’t believe u right now, istg

[10:37] taehyung: u could’ve come by bus with me, but nooooo

[10:37] taehyung: u absolutely HAD to suffer a fucking accident now, didn’t u??

[10:38] taehyung: i’ll never leave this room

[10:38] taehyung: if i don't die of shame before u are arrive, u are dead to me

[typing] taehyung: btw F for u and all, hope your leg’s fine, i lov

A loud thud startles Taehyung, making him drop his phone on the bed.

He waits a second to make sure his heart is still beating before slowly getting up and leaving his room. He steps around some bags placed on the floor near your chosen bedroom to reach the open front door.

Taehyung first notices your car parked near the house with the trunk open, before his eyes descend to your sprawled form on the icy ground, your head snapping up when he calls your name with a confused frown.

“Oh. Hi, Taehyung.”

“Wait, that sound was you slipping? Shit, you ok? Can you get up?”

“Yeah!” You assure, before he can cross the threshold. “Yes, don’t worry.”

You shift on the ground, but as soon as you place your hands behind you for leverage, your face turns into a grimace.

“Fuck”.

“What?”

You don’t answer, instead trying to find different ways to get up while avoiding moving your left arm, and failing adorably every time as the thickness of your clothes restrains your movements.

“Ok, maybe I can’t get up.” You slump back, sighing. 

He closes his coat and changes from his slippers quickly, sidestepping the frozen paths to make his way to you.

When Taehyung crouches by your side he is taken by a sudden urge to swallow his fist. As if the whole situation wasn’t already perfect, you simply had to become even prettier than the last time he saw you. Are you some kinda wine or something? Why the hell you gotta be so gorgeous for?

“Should I…” he starts “uhm, sorry, can I touch you?” Has his voice always been this high?

You nod, and Taehyung automatically starts to rub his hands together.

“What you doing?”

“My hands are cold.”

“I’m… laying on ice.” Your face softens with amusement.

He pauses.

“Right.”

He grabs your upper arms and helps you to your feet, stepping away as soon as you’re standing. 

“Thanks.”

You take your hand to your upper arm briefly, letting out a low hiss.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yeah, think I hit my shoulder.”

“That sucks for you… damn.” He eloquently says.

You glance back at your car, slowly walking back to it. Taehyung assumes you’re going to close the trunk, but when you lean to secure a bag he calls for you once again.

“What you doing?”

“There’s more stuff to take.”

“What? You’ll hurt your shoulder.”

“Did that already.”

“Stop that, let me do it.”

“No, it’s—” you look at the luggage in front of you when he comes to your side “it’s kinda heavy.”

Taehyung chuckles through his shattered ego.

“I can manhandle just fine.” He cringes as soon as he says it.

“... Right.” You clear your throat. “I got Soojin’s stuff too, and I’m pretty sure Jungkook put some of his shit in before I closed it.”

Your roommate’s name rings some bells in Taehyung’s head, and he realizes that this is the longest you two have talked since he… well, y’all know it by now, no need to keep remembering.

“Just tell me where you want them.” 

You reluctantly step away from the car, and Taehyung takes a deep breath: he can’t afford to further embarrass himself in front of you, and maybe it’ll be a good opportunity to make some new, healthier, memories with you.

There are only two things that could explain why Taehyung’s forehead vein is almost popping from carrying a few bags and boxes for less than ten minutes.

First: he should consider finding the fastest way out of here because you brought bodies for a Christmas trip.

But then, this isn't really fair because he sure never had problems handling some bodies before.

…

Shit, that came out terrible. Just to be clear: he means in sex.

Which brings him to the second possible explanation: Taehyung should probably start tagging along Jungkook to the gym, because holy fuck why are things foggy?

The worst, of course, is that you’re watching him, and there’s only so much panting someone can get away with without sounding on the verge of death, so Taehyung does his best to swallow his grunts as he crosses the living room to drop a bag near your bedroom door.

“Taehyung?” You ask, and wow. You look so pretty surrounded by little white spots. Who would’ve thought.

“Yeah.” He gasps.

“You ok?”

“Absolutely! Why you ask?” His laugh sounds more like asthmatic breathing than anything else.

He blinks a few times to try and see you with some definition, and he's like, 63% sure you just furrowed your brows.

“The last thing is Soojin’s gift to Jungkook, so you can leave it there and I’ll help you get it later.”

“What? I got everything else already, it’s fine.”

“Yeah, and thank you for it, but—”

“Really, no sweat. Where?” 

You consider him for a second, sighing when you point to the spot between the window and the fireplace.

“Can you place it there?”

Taehyung nods before he returns outside, carefully making his way to the car and sitting on the open trunk as soon as you’re out of view.

He can't pass out. He looked it up before and changing names is way too expensive.

So, instead, he turns to the last thing you brought: a large box, enveloped in a wrapping paper so ugly he immediately knows Jungkook chose it. He adjusts himself to grab it, but almost sobs as he realizes it’s the heaviest yet.

He takes a deep breath and secures it in his hold, sprinting back inside, blessed enough not to fall (because the universe couldn’t possibly be that cruel). He rushes to the spot you indicated and sets the box down, unable to prevent the most ridiculous little whimper to leave his lips.

“... Taehyung.”

“Again, I’m fine, it was pretty light actually.” He says, but inhales so loud that he’s sure he sucked all the room's air.

“That was a drum set you just carried.”

“... what.”

“Soojin bought Jungkook a drum set. I think it weighs about 55kg.” You explain, biting back a smile.

“Well. As I said, no biggie.” Please don’t faint. Please don’t faint. Please don’t faint. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Oh. Kinda sore, but I'm fine.”

“Great.” He slowly gets up, swinging to his room. “I’ll go uh, unpack.”

If you say anything after that, Taehyung doesn't hear it, closing the door to his room and crashing onto the bed. He spreads his arms wide and lets out a long, tortuous breath.

He allows his body to relax for a second, dazedly looking up. He’s not sure if his vision is now compromised, if he’s about to pass out or if there’s mold in the room’s ceiling.

Hum.

The price of this place starts to make more sense by the second.

A notification draws his attention to his phone beside him. 

[10:58] kookie: just try not to puke on her and you’ll be fine (;

Here’s something people don’t tell you about fuckboys: they are often really lonely and depressed.

…

Oh, no— not Taehyung, though, he’s just fine. 

He enjoys the simplicity of getting his dick wet and the minimal brain power it takes to flirt.

Besides, people say love makes you stupid and Taehyung promised Jungkook he’d try to be less of that. So yeah, he likes to cuddle and maybe do some of that stupid corny shit sometimes, but as soon as the knot in his stomach starts to feel a hell lot like butterflies he’s dipping out. 

The sound of your door closing across the hall snaps him out of his mind. Fucking finally!

Jumping out of his bed, Taehyung furtively exits his room, dragging his feet towards the kitchen. It takes around ten minutes of opening and digging into cabinets for him to remember Soojin was the one assigned with bringing the food.

He opens the fridge, hopeful that maybe the host left something before vacating the house, but he’s met with nothing but a half empty milk bottle (that looks a hell of a lot like yogurt when he shakes it, and even he knows that’s not a good sign) and an unopened beer can.

He rubs his chin, considering his options, but starving or walking on an empty stomach under negative temperatures feels like a whole new level of dumb and he sure doesn’t wanna die with dry ass lips. So, alternatively, after a quick second of quietly and tearlessly sobbing, Taehyung brings himself to knock on your bedroom door.

When you open it he— wait, were you going to sleep? The puffiness around your cheeks and the way you lazily look at him makes Taehyung think so. Also, there’s the fact you’re wearing a pajama set, cute little bears drawn all over your legs.

“Taehyung?” He snaps his eyes up.

“Uh, the nearest town is an hour away on foot.” He blurts, gulping at the way his name sounded laced in your raspy I’ve just woken up voice.

You frown.

“... right?”

He clears his throat; tries again.

“Soojin was supposed to bring the food, so there’s nothing for us to eat. I would grab something, but I think she booked a place near Earth’s butthole, ‘cus there’s nothing close.” You chuckle. Wait, you just… chuckled? Oh god, that must mean you think he's funny!, does that mean you think he's funny oh and your smile damn he feels like that's the first time he's seen your smile quick say something funnier oh wait, not— “But nothing like a good Christmas anal, right?”

Shit.

You open your mouth to say something, but he doesn’t wait for you to react before adding, “sorry. I don’t know why I said that, I mean,” he snickers nervously “only crazy people do anal.” You close your mouth immediately, and Taehyung fights the urge to cry — the fuck is he saying? “I mean, that’s not— I don’t, uhm— I do anal all the time!” He can't tell if he's laughing or crying at this point. “Oh my god, I—”

“Taehyung?” He promptly shuts up. “I think I got it.” Your tone is teasing, but he doesn’t dare meet your eyes as heat creeps up his neck.

“Sorry.”

“What were you saying before? About the food?”

“Right!” He lets out a relieved sigh, shaking his head to try and remember what he was saying before deeming it important for you to know he does anal. “We don’t have any food so… would you mind uhm, driving me to go grocery shopping?”

“It’s not like I have any choice, right?” You let out a little laugh and oh, my god, he hopes that was just a terrible attempt at a joke. “Let me just change real quick, then we can go.”

“Ok.”

He turns back to his room before you even have time to close your door.

It takes around two minutes of screaming into his pillow for the embarrassment to die down. When he starts to change into more presentable clothes, Taehyung tries to remember where the fuck he dropped his brains before this trip.

The shithole Soojin rented is around twenty minutes from town, and Taehyung spends each one of them in pure agony.

Despite the fact that you were very comfortable, idly checking out the landscapes as your fingers tapped against the steering wheel leather, Taehyung was sure that you were seconds away from jumping out of the car to free yourself from the torture of his company. He couldn't stop wondering if he was breathing too loud, but his attempts to hold his breath quickly backfired when you kept asking why he was turning purple beside you. 

Overall? Safe to say this weekend will be great!

Trying to get out of his head, he spots a convenience store a couple streets into town. 

When he sets foot out of the car, Taehyung is glad you parked right in front, because holy shit, is cold as fuck. He wraps the coat tighter around him, but his shivering only stops after he steps into the establishment’s heating.

The place has only three aisles, barely stocked. A few fluorescent lamps cast the room in faint, clinical lightning and Taehyung spots a little fake Christmas tree over the counter. If art is about eliciting a reaction, whoever was responsible for decorating the place is a hell of an artist, because Taehyung feels immediately depressed.

You, on the other hand, don't seem bothered. In fact, you quietly take in the environment, and Taehyung anxiety goes nuts, ‘cus if you are not talking, then he has no clue of what you’re thinking and what you’re thinking scares the shit outta him.

His eyes travel around the shelves in an attempt to find something he can comment on, quickly grabbing a mini reindeer ornament kit while you set your purse between your knees to remove your thicker clothing.

“Hey, check this. Don’t know why people buy shit like that, it's not like reindeers even exist.”

He turns to you after laughing in the most ridiculous, unnatural way, but his smile drops immediately when he catches you folding your coat in your hands as a large — and corny as fuck — reindeer head stares back at him from your sweater.

You know what? He’s gonna own his shit talking ability as a talent, because it takes effort to be this clueless.

You look at him, bottom lip jutting out slightly before your gaze drops to your sweater.

“Damn, I’m sorry. Actually, I think reindeers are really cute, and it’s not like Santa is real anyway either.”

You frown “Taehyung?”

“Huh?”

“Are you serious?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know reindeers are real, right?”

“No, they are not. What you saying?” His brows knit together in his forehead. Your lips curve up in a smile before you start chuckling. He lets out a relieved sigh. “I knew you were just messing with me. Almost got me there.”

You shake your head as you keep laughing, but… wait— holy shit, reindeers are fucking real?! But what about the whole flying thing?

…

Well, damn.

On second thought, Taehyung should definitely be more scared of opening his mouth than he is of silence.

Your laughter melts into a large smile, before you glance around. 

“Should we eat first?” You suggest, pointing to some tables near the large picture windows at front.

“Sure.” He agrees, still kinda thrown off.

You go to the cashier, asking for a menu. “What should we get?”

“Anything quick.”

“Ok. You good with ramen?” He nods and you order two bowls.

It takes no longer than five minutes for the server to bring the steaming instant food to your table.

Here’s another thing Taehyung’s just realized: keeping your mouth shut is a hell of a lot easier when your whole vision of life has just been challenged. What else is real?!

“God, this looks awful.” Your voice cuts through his existential crisis, eyes trained on the street outside the window.

“Huh?”

“There’s almost no one around and barely any decoration. Doesn’t even look like Christmas.”

“I mean, if I lived here I’d want to get the hell out for the holidays too, so.” Good! That was civilized. 

“Fair”, you grant.

You tilt the bowl back a bit to drink some of the broth, giggling to yourself when you set it on the table again. “Have you ever wondered what Whoville would look like if Grinch had actually stolen Christmas?” 

“What?”

“Like the Jim Carrey movie?” He nods, and you go on. “He wanted to ruin the town's Christmas spirit and shit. I think this town is what would happen if he succeeded.”

“I hate that movie.”

“Why?” You frown, but you still have a soft smile on your lips and Taehyung feels encouraged.

“A big green furry guy that uses onions as deodorant and commits arson? How the fuck is that a kid’s movie? I’m pretty sure anyone who likes Grinch is into furry or something” he snickers, “don’t know how that kinky shit can get people into their Christmas spirit.”

“You being hella judgy for someone who just found out reindeers are a thing.” You scoff.

Taehyung's smile drops.

“You… like Grinch?”

“It’s a classic, of course I like it!”

Taehyung groans, but the way your teeth nibble at your lip to hold back a smile makes him hesitate.

“Are you offended?”

“Fuck yeah, I am.” You’re so blatantly amused that even Taehyung could’t miss it — and he can’t help but open a large, boxy smile at your teasing.

“Damn, I’ve been saying all kinds of deranged shit the whole day, and Grinch is what gets to you?”

“It was all shits and giggles until you decided to come for my holiday movie.”

“Your holiday movie? Shit, all I’m hearing is you not denying your furry kink.”

You gape at him, “I do not have a furry kink! Grinch has a very important message and is a very nice, sweet Christmas story.”

“Except it’s terrifying and kinky as fuck,” your playfull pout earns a chuckle out of Taehyung “sorry to be the one to ruin your Christmas spirit, but it kinda feels like I did you a favour.” 

“You have no place to say it.”

“Oh?”

“Ain’t your Christmas about anal or some shit?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, what about it?”

“How’s that a better way to get into your Christmas spirit?”

“Well,” he smirks “maybe you should try and see for yourself.”

You dismiss him with a laugh, and Taehyung feels something melting inside. Jesus fuck, what an infatuating sound.

Shaking your head, you finish the rest of you ramen before breaking the now comfortable silence between you.

“No, but for real. How do you do it?”

Taehyung frowns — but who is he to deny such information?

“I mean… if you must know, most people think you should start with pegging, but I think—”

“No! Why would I ask you about anal?” Oh my god, Taehyung needs to keep saying weird shit so you keep laughing like that.

“Of course, sorry, you know your stuff.”

“Maybe we should stop talking about anal.”

“You brought it up, just outright shaming me.”

“Ok, fair. My bad.”

He smiles, “what you wanna know?”

“How do you get into your holiday spirit?”

Taehyung slurps on his ramen before replying “uhm. I dunno if there’s a ritual or anything.”

“Like, when do you start to feel like it’s Christmas?”

“Usually when I get home.” Taehyung shrugs, but when his eyes meet yours and find an expectant glimmer swimming in your gaze, he makes an effort to think about it. “But it fully hits when me and my sister decorate the tree or when my mum bakes cookies.”

“That seems nice.”

“My birthday is on the 30th though, so I guess it’s kinda natural to me in a way.”

“Huh. So you’re almost Jesus.”

“Now, that’s something I’ve never heard before.” He chuckles.

“Too sinful?” You taunt, and he bites.

“Something like that. Wouldn’t pass being nailed in a cross, though.”

“Holy shit.” Your laugh sends a smile to his face. “Don’t even know what to say to that.”

“Didn’t he die so we could sin? Just doing my part.”

“Pretty sure that wasn’t it.” You shake your head, groaning dramatically. “You gonna ruin Christmas for me if you keep this up.”

“Let’s be real here, Soojin’s to blame too for renting the serial killer shack. You can’t get into the holiday spirit when your place is full of very suspicious wine stains.”

“That's fair,” you allow. “When she told me she rented a secluded little place for us to spend the winter break, I fully expected some fancy cottage like the one from The Holiday.”

“The Kate Winslet’s one?” 

“Yes!”

“Yeah, we definitely don’t have that kinda budget. Jungkook spends too much on mattresses anyway,”

“What—”

“— besides, if this is a movie, it looks more like one of those big morality ones.”

“How so?”

“One of us is super greedy and presumptuous, so this is the universe’s attempt at humbling us.”

“Sending us to spend Christmas without our friends in a shitty place in a shitty town?”

“Clearly.” 

“I mean, I’m a Literature major, it's not like I'll make any money.”

“Yeah, I’m in History, so.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I went to a regency themed party once and everyone looked so fine.” 

“You chose your major for aesthetics?”

“What else is there to consider?”

You smile.

“And how's that going for you?”

“Three years in, not one costume party yet and my Duke attire is just gathering dust, so not great.”

“Maybe you should consider Fashion. I thought that was your major.”

“Yeah?” He pauses, considering it. “That's nice to know.” You smile and he taps his bottom lip. “But if it ain’t that kinda Christmas movie, what kind is it?”

You both ponder for a moment, before your attention returns to him, a mischievous edge to your eyes.

“Maybe it’s one of those we’re supposed to face our shit. Like the weird stuff we did in the past.”

Now, he knows you’re trying to imply something — but what? That he shouldn’t have run from you when he puked on you? ‘Cus that ain’t reasonable.

Ugh. Taehyung hates when people talk in riddles, he’s way too pretty for that.

“Maybe” he concedes, grabbing both of your bowls and getting up to throw them in the nearby trash.

He hears the small chuckle you let out, before you make your way to the door to grab a basket from a pile beside it.

Taehyung and you fall into peaceful conversation while roaming the few aisles in the store, and as the basket grows fuller, he wonders what he was shitting his pants for. Like what, he actually thought you’d just outright mention that day? You’re not cruel. 

“It’s been a while since I went grocery shopping. Soojin usually buys for the two of us.” You say, grabbing some cookies from a shelf.

“I do it every week because Jungkook hates sharing food. He lost his shit once because I used all of his mayo.”

“All of his mayo? The hell kinda recipe you were making?”

…

You actually got pretty familiar with it.

“The food poisoning type.” When you laugh, he pretends that he's joking. 

You finally reach the frozen section, eyes inspecting the different meat cuts available.

“What do you usually have for Christmas dinner?”

“My mom likes to make bulgogi and kimchi. Nothing special.” He shrugs. “What about you?”

You hesitate.

“Have you seen Home Alone?” 

Taehyung scoffs.

“What you take me for?” 

“Do you remember the mac n’ cheese scene?”

“Mhmm.”

“I’ve always wanted to have that for Christmas.” You purse your lips. “How do you fancy some bulgogi with mac n’ cheese?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

You smile. “Budget Christmas supper.”

“Just how Jesus would like it.”

“Stop saying shit like that, Taehyung. It's the man's birthday, have some respect.”

“It’s about humility.” He rolls his eyes playfully. “Having a dirty mind is also a sin, you know.”

“Yeah, you’d know that.”

“Just spreading the word. You’re the sinner here.”

You level his gaze, a challenging smile tracing your face.

“Does that mean I won’t get presents this year? Have I not been a good girl?”

Ha.

No, you didn't just say that — his last brain cell just imagined it. 

God, please don't say anything about being naughty. 

He exhales quietly, opting for an easy out. 

“If Soojin bought Jungkook a whole ass drum kit but got you nothing, then you should reconsider your friendship. Chicks before dicks or whatever.”

“I already accepted that Jungkook won. At this point I’m just the girl she shares rent with.”

“Well, I haven’t accepted shit. You please tell your rent sharer that Jungkook is mine.”

“You should tell him that, too. I’m afraid he might’ve forgotten.”

Taehyung whines. 

“You don't have to say it.”

“Sorry, I’ll let you live in denial.” Your attention returns to the refrigerator, choosing a package of beef and placing it in the basket. “What about you get us something for breakfast and I figure out our dinner today?”

Taehyung nods, walking down the next aisle. He picks up what he deems necessary not to starve the next few days and secures a mediocre wine bottle on the way before he follows you to pay for everything.

Once outside, Taehyung opens the backseat door and starts to place the groceries there, but you don’t make a move to enter the car when he’s done.

He calls you, and when you turn to him, he finds a large, beaming smile plastered on your face. You point down the street where a decaying sign announces a Christmas tree lot sale.

Taehyung shakes his head, shivering as he rubs his hands together.

“No, c’mon. They probably just have those really ugly scrawny ones.” The way your smile immediately falters makes Taehyung feel like complete shit, so he strides to your side and adds, as convincing as possible: “but! We might be lucky! It’s a small town, so they probably didn’t sell that much to begin with.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek.

“You think so?”

“We can at least try.”

When you reach the sale, however, Taehyung cringes. There aren’t many trees left, and most of them already look terrible. He’s already trying to come up with something to comfort you, but when he looks at you? Shit, he might have thought it was Christmas morning already.

And the sight melts something inside of him. The warmth of your gaze when looking at utterly fucked up Christmas trees, as if they're brand new, makes him wanna be on the receiving end of that look.

You start to roam through the rows, inspecting the trees around you.

Now that he's not actively walking anymore, Taehyung feels his body stiffening from the cold, and he starts to tremble beside you.

“I don’t know why you're wearing that thin ass coat in this weather.” You taunt.

“My goal was to look hot, not to be warm.”

“Haven’t you regretted it yet?”

“It depends.” He smiles. “Do I look hot?”

“You look cold. Actually you look kinda purple now.”

“Not even pretty?” He pouts.

“You are pretty. There’s no changing that.” You grin, narrowing your eyes at him. “But now you just look so cold that I almost wanna warm you up. Make you hot.”

What. The. Fuck.

Your tone immediately takes him back to that day at the party. To the way you flirted with him with your back pressed against his front before he took you upstairs.

The way you never once darted your eyes away from him and he felt delirious, hot, under your attention — and it’s that same intensity he finds flashing across your gaze now.

No fucking way.

Forgetting what came next, Taehyung’s mind traps him in the memory of your hand reaching between your bodies to palm him through his pants, the recollection not as sexy due to the weird rumbling of his stomach. 

Coming back to his senses, to your very present eyes staring at him, he curves his lips up.

“Sorry, but this Christmas I'm good girls exclusive.”

“You saying I’m a bad girl?” You pout.

Taehyung blinks a few times.

“Shit.” He huffs out a chuckle. “Don’t do that.” 

“Do what?” Fuck, you gotta stop pouting like that.

“You just messing with me.” He shakes his head, pointing at you. “I’mma go look on the other side of the lot now.”

You laugh as he turns, walking away from you.

He does not have the necessary control to deal with you flirting with him. Not when it makes no fucking sense. And the thing is that he isn’t often the smart one in his life (that’s Jungkook’s job when he isn’t struck dumb by his love for Soojin or his occasional hatred for Taehyung), so he isn't exactly the best at understanding people.

However — although he knows he’s unfairly hot — it makes no sense for you to want him. Not after what happened. And he’s not gonna risk another embarrassing situation after things are starting to resemble normalcy with you. As a matter of fact, Taehyung is too dumb to risk anything when there isn’t clear and explicit interest.

He shakes those thoughts off his head, focusing on finding a decent enough tree, but it takes around fifteen minutes of touching crumbling twigs for him to hear you calling his name from the other side of the lot.

You’re staring quizzically at a medium sized yellowish-green tree when he reaches you. To its credit, most of its branches — although looking like they could break just from being started at for too long — are still pretty full. Hopefully it can hold some ornaments to keep that smile on your face.

“What you think?”

“It does look better than the other ones.” He points. “You want this one?”

“Yep.”

“I’m so fucking happy” you declare, staring at the wack ass tree on your car’s roof.

Taehyung chuckles.

“I’m glad.”

You step to the driver’s side, moving to get in when you notice that Taehyung isn’t following.

“Ain’t you coming?”

“You bought a Christmas tree but won’t buy ornaments?” He teases, and a large grin spreads across your face. “C’mon, I saw some in the convenience store.”

You return to Taehyung’s side and you retrace your steps down the street.

“I feel like I must warn you that the last time I decorated a tree was when I was a kid.” You confess. “So it’ll probably look like shit.”

“That’s dumb. Every tree looks good if you decorate it with love.”

“Now you’re just being corny.” You nudge his side.

“I’m just trying to anticipate you to the fact that I also can’t decorate for shit.”

“So much for being experienced.”

“Experience means shit. For example, Jungkook is like, five years old and is so wiser than me already.”

“He did drive straight against a light pole in a parking lot. So maybe you’re setting the bar too low.”

“You know, you can insult me all you want, but I won’t let you come for my Kookie.”

“Your cookie?” You tease.

“What you smirking for? God, you have such a filthy mind.”

“Do not!”

“No way you watch Grinch with that dirty mind and do not have a furry kink.”

“Shut up.” You give his arm a light smack, but you’re giggling when you push open the store’s door for the second time that afternoon.

Taehyung guides you to a shelf with a bunch of Christmas themed products, and you both start to choose from little foam and plastic ornaments.

“Fuck, that’s so cute.” He says, holding a mini foam sock you picked in his large hands.

“I know, right? Loved those little stars you got, too.” You say, placing it all over the register.

“Nice to see you two again.” The cashier grins.

“We bought a tree, so we needed some ornaments.” Taehyung reasons.

“Sure.” He looks at the two of you for a second. “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry, but you guys are such a cute couple.”

Taehyung’s face falls.

He kinda hates hearing stuff like this.

He’s heard people saying that about him and Soojin when they were fighting at a toy store trying to settle on something to buy Kook for Children’s day, and he’s heard it when he was having breakfast with a girl he had hooked up with — whose name he spent the whole meal trying to remember.

However, he never really heard it with Jungkook, even when the boy spent a whole dinner fucking sniffling his neck due to a new loation Taehyung had bought. Neither had he heard it when he was all smiles and giggles with a guy he saw for a while some months ago.

So he doesn’t really give those comments any credit. Especially because he knows he looks cute with anyone. 

You, on the other hand, seem to think it’s outright hilarious.

“Thank you!” You laugh. “We aren’t together, though.”

Ha.

No way you were seriously flirting with him.

“Oh. Sorry if I…”

“No, it’s okay.” You reassure. “We sure are cute.”

Your prideful smile has Taehyung smiling too, despite himself. He likes how confidence looks on you.

The cashier rings you up, and Taehyung grabs the bags, following you outside.

When he finally stops struggling to place the tree near the house’s fireplace, it’s already dark outside.

You tried to help him a couple times, but Taehyung was intransigent, especially because of the branches — he was full of little cuts and scratches when he was done. Which is fine, makes him look kinda edgy, but he didn’t want to see them on your soft skin. 

You drop the bags with the ornaments on the floor by his side, hands coming to rest on your hips. “You know, oddly enough I don’t know of any movie that has a Christmas tree decoration scene.”

“There’s that Friends scene where they decorate Monica’s tree.”

“Really? Never watched Friends.”

Taehyung gasps dramatically.

“And you like Grinch? Can’t believe I’m gonna spend Christmas with a psychopath.” He pauses. “Oh god, did Soojin rent this house for you to kill me?”

“Still with the Grinch judgment?”

“If anything I think I’m not judging enough.” You roll your eyes. “You seriously never seen Friends?”

“I don’t really like series. Too much commitment.”

“Ohhh, didn’t know you were a player.” He teases, and you laugh.

“What can I say. I'm as heartless as they come.”

“You do look very cold holding that little plush candy cane.”

“Isn't it part of the fuckboy agenda to pretend to be sweet and caring?”

“So you're manipulative kind too? Damn, you should come with a warning.”

“Who cares about affective responsibility anyway?”

He sighs, “I have so much to learn.”

You giggle, shaking your head, and Taehyung grabs another ornament bag.

“Wait, let me set the mood.” You turn around, grabbing your phone from the couche’s armrest and putting on a Christmas playlist.

As Justin Bieber’s fetus voice starts filling up the room, Taehyung lets out a loud chuckle.

“Mistletoe?”

“You seriously coming for every Christmas thing I like?” You groan at his mocking tone. “Let me live, Taehyung.”

“I’d let you, but you not doing it right.” He says, approaching you to grab the phone from your hands, but you quickly step away.

“Hell, no. This song is hella cute, you’re not changing it. Just enjoy.”

“Uh, fine. Can I choose the next one?”

“... ok. But it needs to be Christmas related.”

“I have my own Christmas playlist, you know.”

“If it doesn’t have Mistletoe on it, then I already know it’s shit.”

He gapes, feigning offense.

“Damn, the disrespect. May George Michael never hear you.”

And then you two start to assemble the little ornaments around your shitty tree, mocking each other’s music taste but enjoying and absentmindedly swinging to every song. 

It’s only when Mariah Carrey’s voice sounds through your phone that you stop for a second. Your eyes find Taehyung’s with ease, when he too halts his actions after carefully hanging a little star in one of the branches. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Need more Christmas wisdom?”

“Kinda.”

“Shoot.”

“Can you tell me more about holidays with your family?”

“Sure. What do you wanna know?”

“Anything.”

“Please, be more vague.” 

You think, before grabbing a little Santa hat from the bag.

“How is decorating the tree with your sister like?”

“Uhm, she’s always very organized. She likes to plan it and she used to come up with different themes every year.” He smiles to himself. “One year she convinced us to buy a fake white tree because she thought it was fancy or something. It looked like shit when we finished decorating it, so my mum took us to a last minute tree hunt and we all started a whole different decoration before the rest of the family arrived for dinner.”

“Cute.”

“Yeah, now she loves little elf ornaments. My dad bought some once and she lost her shit because of how cute they are, so she plans her decoration around them every year.”

“Oh. We should’ve bought little elfs, then.”

“Nah, I’m tired of them. This way is nice.” Taehyung opens a bag with little plastic sleigh decorations and you two start to distribute them.

“So she’s a planner. How do you decorate?”

“I usually just do as she says. You know. Shoving the little things and hoping they don’t fall.” You chuckle and Taehyung looks at you. “What about you? How’s tree decorating with your family?”

You pause, letting out a long breath before you answer, “Don’t have that many memories to choose from, honestly.”

Taehyung frowns, before a little confused laugh leaves his lips.

“What, are you traumatized or something?”

Your eyes widen when you meet his gaze, smile completely wiped from your face as your hands halt mid-air.

Taehyung immediately panics, synapses synapsing before—

Well. Shit.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t ha—”

His apologies are interrupted by the loud sound of your laughter. He almost thinks he’s imagining it before he turns to you, the little sleigh ornament falling from your hands as you lean on your knees.

“Are you… uh, okay?”

“Can’t believe you just asked that.” You try to catch your breath, laughter breaking into little giggles.

“I’m really sorry, though, I don’t kno—”

“Taehyung,” you interrupt again, biting your lip in an attempt to contain your amusement, “it’s fine, honestly. I’m okay with it, just didn’t expect you to straight up say it.” You giggle a bit more as he processes your words.

“Oh… so you’re okay?”

“Yeah. I don’t have a good relationship with my parents, and this is my first Christmas without them. Don’t wanna talk about it… sorry if it’s weird or it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No, you didn’t.” Taehyung fights the urge to apologize again, but he can help repeating himself. “You really ok, though?”

“Yeah. Really. Don’t worry about it.” 

He nods, thinking before clearing his throat, “so. Want me to tell you more holiday with the Kims stories?”

Taehyung makes an effort not to let things become awkward, but it hits him then that this must be a pretty important Christmas for you — if the eager way you nod is anything to go by — and he kinda feels bad that you have to spend it with him. 

Despite his concern, you fall into your now familiar laughing and teasing as he goes on to tell a bunch of family memories while you two finish up the tree.

Taehyung never had problems falling asleep. Actually, if anything, he had problems staying awake — being so hot can be exhausting sometimes. Ugh, who is he kidding? If anyone knows this, it is you. You, with your pretty smile and your pretty eyes and your pretty hands and your pretty face and your pretty voice and your fucking gorgeous body and your sense of—

Uhm. You got the point.

Anyway.

Ahem.

Where was he?

Oh, yeah.

Taehyung never really had problems sleeping, but that night, after bidding you goodnight and returning to the warmth of his covers after a good steamy shower, he felt restless.

A weird sense of responsibility weighted on him, and he promised himself that he’d try to make this holiday remarkable for you — and that he’d keep that fucking smile on your face. But even after his resolution, his body felt foreign. Taehyung kept shifting inside the covers, gut turning and twisting almost as if he had eaten something he shouldn’t and the thought kept him awake for hours on end until he realized that it resembled butterflies.

He pretended like he didn’t know why he was feeling that, but, after he finally drifted off, your face starred his every dream.

“Merry Christmas Eve!”

“So you finally remembered I exist, hum?” Taehyung secures his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he places the dishes in the sink.

You were twenty minutes deep into a Love Actually rant when his ringtone pierced through your argument. You shut up immediately, only then realizing how caught up you’ve gotten, but Taehyung was almost disappointed when you put away your lunch plate and left the kitchen to provide some privacy.

“What? I don’t remember you calling me when I was in the hospital yesterday.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, grabbing his phone properly as he makes his way to his bedroom.

“People grieve in different ways, Jungkook. You must learn to respect that.”

“What are you grieving, asshole, I didn’t die.”

“Your dignity did. Driving straight against a light pole then whining over a twisted ankle.”

“The light pole was in my blind spot.”

“So you did whine?”

“Like a proper man.” Taehyung chuckles.

“I know you’re fine, Soojin kept me updated. I figured you were tired, so I didn’t call or anything.”

“Pretty sure you sent a text blaming me for getting into an accident.”

“It kinda was your fault, though, wasn’t it, Kook?”

Jungkook gets silent on the line for a second, before letting out a loud exhale. 

“Are you mad with me?”

Taehyung frowns. 

“What you talking about?”

“Fuck, you are, aren’t you? I just… I’m sorry, man. I know you didn’t wanna go in the first place but I kept asking you to go, and now you’re there alone.”

“Hum. I don’t accept your apology, tho—”

“Wow. Okay, then. I mean, it wasn’t my fault you puked on her and went all incognito, so it seems a bit harsh, but go off, I guess.”

“The hell? I was gonna say I don’t accept it ‘cus there’s nothing to apologize for, jackass.”

“Oh.” He lets out a nervous laugh. “Right. Appreciate it, man. But for real, I’m sorry. Hope things aren’t too awkward there.”

Taehyung chews the inside of his cheek.

“Actually? Things are ok. Went to town to buy some stuff with her yesterday and she’s so cool, man. We’re cool.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I was a bit in my head at first, but it’s fine now.”

“Sweet! In that case, you’re welcome.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, but huffs out a chuckle.

“Yeah, thank you for crashing your car, it made me happy.”

“Everything for you, Tae.”

“Shit. I kinda miss you, tough.”

“Yeah, same. But we’ll be there soon enough.”

“Great. Now, have you ever realized how amazing Emma Thompson is on Love Actually? I feel like we don’t give her enough love, and I was just reflecting on some shit.”

“Oh my god, I kinda thought the same thing the last time we watched it. I mean, let's think about it for a sec here.”

Taehyung could distinctly hear the corny Christmas soundtrack when he set foot outside his room after hours trying to soothe his Jungkook deficiency. He smiled to himself, approaching the living room.

He finds you clutching the blanket to your chest, eyes focused on the action on the TV screen.

“You ok?” His question makes you jump on the couch, hand immediately flying to your chest.

“Jesus, Taehyung! Announce yourself, goddammit!” You try to catch your erratic breath as he chuckles.

“My bad.” You grab the remote to jump back a few scenes. “What are you watching?”

“Nightmare before Christmas.”

“Nice choice.”

“Wanna join?”

“Nah. Think it's time to start making dinner.”

“Oh! Yeah, sure, let's go.”

You start to peel the covers off you, but Taehyung shakes his hand quickly. 

“Let me take care of it! You can chill.”

You frown, “you don't need help?”

“No, I can figure it out by myself, enjoy your marathon.”

Okay, he knows what you're thinking, and it does seem like a pretty terrible idea given… well, the way you two met. But! Taehyung is nothing but a dedicated man, and that night with you he was humbled. So, he spent the months following the incident learning and researching and — after getting fairly acquainted with food poisoning and stressing the fuck outta Jungkook — he finally mastered the art of cooking.

…

That was misleading, sorry.

He can confidently make popcorn, and hesitantly make ramen and mac and cheese — everything an adult needs to survive, honestly —, and tonight's menu just so happens to contain one of his specialties. He just has to figure out the bulgogi part, and then he's gonna blow your fucking mind.

“Oh, by the way,” you call from the couch as he makes his way to the kitchen area “I didn't find any good brands of mac and cheese yesterday, so I bought the ingredients to make it from scratch. Hope it's okay?”

Well, shit.

Taehyung reassures you weakly, not wanting to take that smile off your face, and takes a deep breath before starting to gather the ingredients. 

How hard can it be, really?

Surprising absolutely no one, Taehyung didn't figure shit out.

What he did, though, in the twenty minutes it took for him to come to his senses, was learn a few big words. Like marinated. What does it even mean? And why does every recipe site assume he knows it? He knows shit.

Also, why is mac and cheese sauce not just melted cheese? Makes absolutely no fucking sense. Honestly? Straight up cynical.

But you see kids, Taehyung didn’t just learn to make popcorn and instant food during the previous months. In fact, he also did a little of what you could call a character development (who would’ve thought that throwing up over the hottest girl he’s even met could teach you so much about life? Amazing, honestly), and that’s why now, instead of getting creative, he decides to just call for you.

“Yeah?” You answer dismissively, attention still in the skeleton singing on the screen.

“I, uh… need your help.”

You pause the movie, turning your body to face him over the couch.

“Sure, what is it?”

“Honestly?” His smile is shy as he looks away from you. “I can't cook for shit. Hate to ask after telling you I would do it, but I also feel like food poisoning isn't on your Christmas bucket list, so… can you help me with dinner?”

Your smile, on the other hand, is blissful.

“How do you survive?”

“Barely. But Jungkook is a good cook.”

“Oh, yeah.” You consider. “Soojin has started to eat more at home after he started cooking for us too.”

“So… will you help me?”

“Of course.” You're already on your feet by the time the words leave your mouth, and Taehyung can see you're wearing that cute ass bear pajamas from yesterday. You look so fucking soft and comfortable.

When you join him in the kitchen he can’t help but smile at the way your outfit matches his own — although his pattern is of little tigers. You search briefly around the cabinets and reach for the wine he got the day before, and you two let the sweet alcohol tint your lips as you look through all the ingredients he displayed on the counter.

“Soojin made mac and cheese the other day, so I’ll do her way. Also, bulgogi ain’t really that hard, anyway. Just… do as I say.”

“Sure.” 

Taehyung pays close attention to your instructions, and you task him with a basic chopping job that — although really fucking dangerous considering the size of the knife — seems easy enough that he won’t fuck it up. You charge yourself with the pasta, filling a pan with water and turning up the heat.

“What does one usually do after supper?”

“Well, it varies. My brother likes to watch Christmas movies. My parents would just sleep. Jungkook likes to get shitfaced and dance.”

“And you?”

“I’m the one he dances with.” You smile.

“Cute.”

“What you wanna do?”

“Uhm… watch movies? There’s a few remaining on my list.”

“We could do that.”

“Oh, sorry. Did I give you the impression that I wanted to do it with you?” 

“As if. I’m your Christmas mentor, you need me.”

“Need no such thing anymore. Besides, I feel like I mentored you a bit too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Care to tell me how?”

“For one, if it wasn’t for me, you’d still think reindeers aren’t real.”

“Hey, that’s not—”

“And you’d be left to eat basic ass ramen for Christmas dinner.”

“What I’m hearing is that you took the fun outta my holidays.”

“Oh, yeah? I bought some ramen yesterday, suit yourself.”

“God, you’re so mean, so cold. But that's okay. I happen to have a very big heart, so I forgive your lack of gratitude. We can still watch something together.”

“But I’m not apologizing.”

“You’ll watch your movies alone then?”

“Don’t exactly feel like holding your hand when you get scared.”

“What kinda Christmas movies are you watching?”

“Old scary Grinch.” Your smile only widens when Taehyung groans.

“Stop it.” He nudges you. “Your water is boiling already.”

“C’mon, Tae, let’s face some childhood fears, maybe that’s what our movie is about.”

He rolls his eyes, but your laugh pulls a smile outta him.

At some point, after around two hours of teasing and working through the wine bottle — now long forgotten and replaced by the cheap beer you got at the store —, you two manage to finish dinner. Now, Taehyung ain't no chef. But if the smell is anything to go by, this might just be his best meal, and he's happy he was able to contribute.

He sets the table while you give the food the final touches, and in no time you two are sitting across from each other, bulgogi mac and cheese bowls waiting in front of you, while Michael Bublé's voice envelops the house.

Taehyung fills his spoon and takes the first bite.

Holy shit.

For a second, he just lets the food sit on his tongue. The flavor coating his every sense as you stare expectantly at him. Closing his eyes, he lets out a low sigh; he could never have enough creativity to describe such a taste.

What he knows of, though, is that it tastes like shit.

Thoroughly and unmistakably garbage and he's left surprised at how you two were able to mess up this bad… Okay, maybe not that surprised: he was there after all — but oh my god, you can't cook for your life!

But, when he opens his eyes, meeting your glimmering ones, he doesn't have it in his heart to tell you. Maybe you just have a different taste or something, maybe your food is too refined for his traumatized palate.

So, he gathers his strength and chews the fucking pasta.

“So?” You ask, after he swallows. 

“Mhmmm” he hums “it's definitely something.”

Your face drops on cue, and Taehyung offers a weak smile when you reach for your own spoon, shoving pasta in your mouth and groaning when it touches your tongue.

“Oh my god”, you quickly get a napkin to spit the food. “But… it smells so good. How did I fucked this up?” You drop your head on your palms over the table.

“It does smell delicious.” He inhales deeply, letting the deceiving dish smell soothe his senses after the atrocious taste.

“I’m so sorry.” You groan.

“For what?”

“Ruining our Christmas dinner.”

“What you talking about? Pretty sure I can get full just by sniffling the shit out of this.” You lift your face from your hands, meeting his attempt to lighten the mood. 

“I’m serious.”

“So what? You think I could’ve done better?” He chuckles. “Honestly, you’re miles ahead of my cooking skills just for making it smell like food.” He continues when a small smile tugs at your lips. “Definitely understand why Soojin wasn’t eating at home before Jungkook, but it looks great nonetheless.”

You giggle faintly.

“But for real… what are we gonna do?”

He looks around the kitchen, before smiling at you.

“Think I'm gonna suit myself with some basic ass ramen for Christmas dinner.”

After cleaning the table and making sure to strictly follow the basic three step ramen instructions, you two move your Christmas supper to the couch — or rather, you return to your cozy place under the blankets and he gets acquainted with the nearby armchair.

It feels ridiculously comfortable. And as you two keep making your way through Bridget Jones' Diary, Taehyung realizes a few weird things.

The first, is that he doesn’t know how you ever manage to finish movies, because you constantly feel the need to pause and over analyze a scene for at least five minutes before you deem him informed enough to move onto the next one. He doesn’t mind. In fact, he finds it adorable, especially when you rolled up your sleeves, tossed the empty ramen bowl on the coffee table and explained to him almost angrily why Bridget’s resignation scene is real cinema or something.

The second, and perhaps most alarming one, is that he hasn’t paid attention to a single scene after the first time you paused. His eyes apparently forget how to strain away from you. From your arms, from your hair, from your smiles and chuckles. You seem to be aware that he’s staring, but pretend that it's just the spiciness of the ramen that got you fanning yourself, while making no effort whatsoever to push the blankets away from you.

You’re just… entracing. So beautiful, so excited, so worked up, so cute and just such a fucking menace that he feels like he’s spinning — cheap bear aside, he doesn’t think it’s on alcohol he’s drunk on.

Although, from the amount of cans accumulated by his and yours feet, you two aren’t exactly sober either.

…

Yeah, sure, it’s the beer. The alcohol. He’s drunk. That’s it.

“Taehyung, can I ask you something?” Your voice breaks through his mind, snapping him out of his inner ramblings.

“Sure.”

“I know you hate it. But can you maybe watch Grinch with me too?” And you quickly add, before he can even open his mouth to contest: “I really like it, and it’s the last one on my list, and” you hiccup “maybe you can grow to like it now as an adult!”

He groans. 

“Why do you like that shit?”

“Please! I don’t wanna watch it alone.”

“I don’t know…”

You look around the room, as if trying to find something that will convince him, but it’s when Taehyung sips on his beer that your eyes lit up with an idea.

“Didn’t you say you liked to get shitfaced and then dance with Jungkook during Christmas?”

“... yeah?”

“Then let’s do that! Let’s get really drunk,” you hiccup again, letting out a little giggle. “Ok, maybe that part is covered. So, let's dance, then watch Grinch!”

“You wanna dance?”

“Then watch Grinch!” You repeat, words slurred in the cutest little way. “I’ll do it for you, you do it for me.”

You don’t wait for him to agree before you’re on your feet, crossing the space between you and grabbing his hands to help him rise from the couch — but Taehyung doesn’t fight any of it. Because the pout on your lips and the way your eyes are glimmering with fondness (and intoxication too, he’s sure), makes him wanna do just everything you tell him too.

You set your phone on the coffee table and face him again.

“Oh” you giggle, clumsily stepping back when you realize just how close you two are. You clear your throat. “So how do you two do it?”

“We just dance. There’s no plan or a right way to do it, just… dance.” He blinks.

Fuck, he’s really drunk.

“Okay.”

He giggles at your uneasiness, reaching for your phone and starting one of his Christmas playlists. He doesn’t need much to start swaying when a sweet jazz rhythm sounds through your speakers. He shakes his shoulders playfully, earning a laugh from you.

“Damn, you’re so old.”

He chuckles.

“What you waiting for? Just dance with me.”

He grabs your wrists and guides you to swing with him, lifting your arms and twisting you before letting you to set your own pace with a large smile on your face.

Taehyung feels so at peace. The alcohol easing his thoughts, the jazz moving his body, your cute giggles gracing his ears.

“I'll give it to you, your music taste isn't bad.”

He clicks his tongue.

“You wouldn't be swaying like that to Mistletoe, I guarantee you.”

“Wanna bet?” You challenge, already grabbing your phone to change the song.

Taehyung laughs when you switch up your dancing style to something far more agitated than the song demands, clumsily circling the coffee table. He's clearly more skilled than you, so he tries to exaggerate and act up his movements to match yours.

“Okay, now sing with me” you clap your hands “— but Imma be under the mistletoe. With youuu” you point at him “shawty with you.”

You can't finish the chorus as you burst into little giggles, and Taehyung follows suit.

“Shut up.”

“That's the only tradition left, I think.”

“Huh?”

“The mistletoe.”

He stumbles on the couch.

“What?”

You look at him for a second, and your grin falters just a little before you shake your head.

“Why so violent with the couch? No need to be scared.” You laugh. “Damn, you're such a bad dancer.”

Taehyung can't understand mixed signals when he's sober — so it's not like he's gonna try when he’s this drunk.

“How dare you! If the music was better it'd definitely be easier. Put on some nice Stray Kids if you really wanna know what I'm made of.”

It’s a ridiculous scene, really. One that he wouldn’t believe could’ve happened a day before, but here you are, dancing around the living room, bumping into the furniture and laughing like two children as a way to force him to watch a stupid Christmas movie with you.

And fuck, he likes it.

He likes the way your shirt lifts whenever you raise your arms, exposing a line of your lower stomach. He likes the way your ass shakes when you try to make a funny move. He likes the way a thin layer of sweat coats your exposed skin, and how desperate he is to lick it clean. He likes the way you look at him, like he is the one making you this fucking happy.

And then you finally pause the music.

“I'll admit. If History doesn’t work, you can definitely make a career out of dancing.”

“Thanks.” He smiles. “You should stick to Literature, though.”

“Hey!”

You laugh, shoving him playfully as you let your body fall on the couch, pushing the blanket to the armrest and away from you. He doesn’t bat an eye when he sits beside you this time.

“Can we watch it now?”

He sighs. “Yeah, whatever.”

You reach for the remote and before Taehyung can ever prepare himself, the stupid narrator is already introducing you two to Whoville.

It doesn’t take long for him to realize he’s not ready to face any childhood fears today, because as Jim Carey’s furry face is slowly but surely shown, he’s already shivering and looking away.

This time, though, you don’t ignore his lack of attention to the movie. 

“Oh my god” you laugh, pausing the movie six minutes in, Grinch’s ugly ass face occupying the whole screen. “You’re scared scared of it. Actually scared.”

He scoffs. 

“No, I’m not?”

“Why are you looking away, then?”

“Nothing, you can keep going.”

You smirk, “okay.”

Taehyung is able to stomach the next few scenes, complaining at the stupid hairstyles and outfits the characters use while you just eye him amused. When Grinch’s face shows up again, Taehyung starts to restlessly shift on the couch to have an excuse to look away, and the constant cracking of the backrest is what prompts you to pause the movie again.

“Stop moving so much. You gonna break the couch.”

“It’s just uncomfortable. Can’t find a good position.”

“Taehyung, we can choose a different movie if you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared though, this movie is fine.”

“The movie is, you aren’t.”

He crosses his arms, but doesn’t say anything.

“You know, you don’t look like someone who scares easily.”

“Because I’m not.”

“You've been cringing since the movie began.”

“Because it's bad.” Damn, he sounds like a five year old.

You shift on the couch to face him, before tugging on his elbow lightly, compelling him to meet your eyes.

“If you admit you’re scared, I’ll change it.”

Your stare is intense as you wait for him to give in and he suddenly feels warm. Your hand is still resting on his arm, and a weird stir on his stomach makes Taehyung feel like that isn’t contact enough — but he blames it on the beer for the time it takes for him to remember how to form syllables.

Shaking his head, he scoffs.

“No wonder you like Grinch so much, you’re just like him.”

“Damn, just like him? Now who’s the mean one?”

“Still you.”

“Well, you just compared me to Jim Carrey in a hairy green costume, so.”

“I mean, you’re not as bad on the eyes.”

“Wow, thanks. That’s some competition.”

He doesn’t think. He says.

“You don’t have competition. You're like, in a league of your own.”

The chalet Soojin found was the only one with three bedrooms y’all could afford, but as you two have quickly learned these last days, that doesn’t mean that it was a good place. Actually, Taehyung only stopped calling it a shack because Jungkook told him it made Soojin sad — but even with every door and window closed, he’s still able to catch you shivering under the cold breeze breaching through the shit heating system. Fuck this place and how it makes you cold.

“Oh.” It's all you manage to reply.

“And that’s even worse.”

“How?” You offer him a little, unconvincing laugh.

“You deceive. Grinch would’ve succeeded on his stupid plan if he seduced people.”

“So what, am I seducing you or something?”

He doesn’t answer.

No, he can't answer that. Not with words, at least. Not with the way the alcohol is steadily dissolving his filters, and not with the way you're looking at him. So he just stares at you.

He just stares at you as if your eyes hold the answers to all of his questions — and that’s saying something because he has a lot of them — and then you wet your lips, dragging his eyes down your face. The sensitive flesh is tinted red, a memory of the spicy sauce and wine you just had, now glistening with your saliva too. And Taehyungs feels the urge to taste it.

It’s you, however, that finally leans in, erasing the space between you to smash your lips against his in a kiss that Taehyung feels like he waited his whole life for.

And the desperation is evident, the need to make up for a missed time neither of you were aware of, so his hand reaches for the nape of your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss and slide his tongue against yours. It's messy and mostly sloppy, but it lights a fire inside both of you.

You further press your mouths together, Taehyung’s breath tangling with yours in what looks like an attempt to eat each other’s faces off — and fuck, he wants nothing less.

It takes only a light touch on your thigh for you to promptly sway your leg over his hips, straddling his thighs without breaking contact for a second.

The new angle allows for him to feel all of you. The weight of your body and the taste of your tongue makes his mind spin, and shit he can’t focus on technique for his life, he just wants to keep his mouth on yours forever.

Taehyung’s large palms skim up your thighs, and he grabs a handful of your ass, pushing a low breathy moan out of your throat. Shit. If he was eager before, Taehyung’s actions now turn straight up feral, hungrily seeking your lips while pressing you down on his body, feeling a shiver run down his spine at the way you seem to effortlessly fit above him.

The new found intensity makes your knee jolt on the remote beside your leg. You pause the kiss for a moment to giggle drunkenly when Grinch’s voice sounds through the room, and that’s when Taehyung’s inebriated thoughts finally seem to catch up to him. 

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

You’re drunk. Shit, you’re drunk as fuck. He can taste it. He can feel it in the way your hands clumsily tug on his hair, and in the way your hips uncoordinatedly roll over his.

Shit.

He squeezes his eyes further shut, trying to get some sense into his head, and finally gathers enough control to pull away.

You immediately frown, chasing after his lips, but he turns his face. 

“Tae?”

He swallows at the breathless way your voice comes out, the nickname rolling off your tongue just makes him wanna grab your face again and resume the messy make out session. So, with his mind still spinning, he struggles to find the right words when he opens his mouth.

“I think we shouldn’t do this.” His voice is slurred.

You freeze, backing away just a bit to inspect his elusive face, and whatever you find there makes your whole expression drop. You clear your throat awkwardly and lift your leg to move away from his thighs. Taehyung’s hands feel hella empty without your hips to hold on to, but he pushes through the feeling, rising from the couch as soon as you’re securely away, and bolts away to his room down the corridor, pants awfully tight.

Taehyung feels like shit the next morning, in more ways than one.

He’s not sure how he was even able to fall asleep — although the excessive amount of alcohol in his blood might have helped.

He knows he did the right thing stopping it: you were both way past clarity for clear consent, but in all his years as a certified fuckboy he never communicated that so poorly, and never ever made someone feel undesirable — and he fears that's exactly what he did last night. Which couldn’t be farther from the truth, because holy fuck he doesn’t think he’s ever desired someone so desperately.

However, as much as he would love to do it all again, much much more sober, he can’t assume the same for you. Especially not after the ridiculous way he handled the situation. But he shouldn’t leave it like that. No, he has to talk to you, to explain and then apologize. It’s still Christmas after all, and the last thing he wants is to give you another bad holiday memory.

That thought is enough to prompt him out of bed, and Taehyung crosses the corridor with surprising confidence before stopping at your door.

Taking a deep breath, he lightly knocks before closing his hand around the handle, turning it and pushing it open.

He expects to find you sleeping. He kinda expected you to be awake too, deep in thought just as he was — but fuck, he definitely wasn't expecting that.

You coat your fingers in your arousal before pushing them up to circle your clit. The relief is immediate, and you have to cover your mouth with your free hand to prevent your pleasure from spilling from your lips.

Your eyes flutter shut when you imagine what Taehyung's long fingers would feel like replacing yours. How he would drag them up and down your folds, spreading your juices and making your pussy all nice and slick for him, before plunging them inside, scissoring you open and curving just the right way.

Fuck, you’re so fucking horny.

You should've found a way to blow some steam, to relieve that pressure before you came on this trip. Granted, you didn’t really know you and Taehyung would be by yourselves, so the only thing you expected from him were avoidant eyes and quick, uncomfortable escapes — which you got last night, after your stupid drunk ass thought it was a good idea to kiss him. Shit, what did you have in mind?

Oh, right. Kim Taehyung.

The first time you ever saw him, in that cursed party, you were immediately sure of one thing: Kim Taehyung is tailor-made by hell. There’s no other way to explain his alluring eyes, that burn with such intensity that the mere glance your way makes you feel like the hottest fucking person alive; or his lips, soft and plumpy lips, that spread in the utmost tempting smirk you’ve ever seen. And his body? Fuck, he’s so hot that you honestly wanna eat your fist whenever you look at him.

So, it’s fair to say, you were pretty fucking happy that he made a move on you on that party. To this day, remembering the way his back was pressed against yours and the words he whispered in your ear? The promises he made? You just knew you would do everything to see them through.

But you feel like you’ve been trapped in your own fucked up version of groundhog day. One in which every time a hot person sees something in you that deems you fuckable, you’re always fucking interrupted. You feel like you’ve been edged for months now, starting with Taehyung puking on you, followed by you and Jimin being interrupted when you were searching for something to use as bondage and last month, when you had your fingers deep inside one of your classmates pussy and her sister decided to visit her the very same moment.

You’re a simple girl, with simple needs. You just want to cum.

And despite all the months without basic, mature communication, you still fucking wanted Taehyung to blow your back. God, the things you heard of him, the rumors, the giggling feedback… all ruined because as soon as he made sure you were clean and held no evidence of his lunch, he disappeared as if you had imagined him. But how could you ever blame him for getting sick? You’ve worked six months in a nursery last year, you’re pretty much immune to vomit at this point.

Nonetheless, his lack of opening after it all made you shut down that window, and you didn’t really gave it much thought until Jungkook decided to fucking destroy his car (honestly, how could he drive straight against a fucking pole, so damn inconvenient!) and you and Taehyung were left to your own devices in a shitshow of a town. And then, you got everything but what you expected.

You found out that his sweet smile can be just as alluring as his smirk. And that his eyes can hold a kindness and an innocence so genuine that’s almost infuriating. That he’s the silliest fucking man alive and you couldn’t have asked for a better person to make you company during Christmas — he is basically Jesus after all. The GOAT of Christmas and shit.

But after last night? After remembering what his lips taste like? After remembering the weight of his hands as they trace your legs and set every inch of your skin on fire? Shit, you’re not sure how you went a single day without it.

Consequently, after an hour tossing and turning on bed, you came up with a clear plan of action: you would apologize. Would face him, and apologize for kissing his last night and for making him uncomfortable. But fuck, you have to deal with that knot in the pit of your stomach before setting foot out of bed.

With that in mind, you push your fingers deep inside your pussy, stroking your walls the way you can just imagine that he would, reaching spots that yours never could. You bite the palm over your mouth, trying to keep a loud moan from slipping out when you start to pump your fingers with purpose, seeking release as if your life depended on it.

You’re so pent up that it doesn’t take long before you start to feel your pussy constricting around your digits, and you can sense your sanity drifting away the closer you get — making you thoughtlessly drop your hand from your mouth.

“Fuck” you moan, curving your digits to seek your g-spot “Taehyung!”

“I’m here!” 

It takes longer than it probably should for you to understand that no, you didn’t just imagine his voice replying to you — but realization does hit you eventually, and you snap your eyes wide open.

You take your soaked fingers away from your center, opening your legs as your head lifts from the pillow to find Taehyung, not imagined — although dreamy — with his back turned to you on the threshold.

“Oh my god” you whisper, desperation lacing your tone as you rush to cover yourself, even if he can’t see you “oh my god, shit, I’m…”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupts, voice strained. “I just… I came to— I’ll go now.” He stutters, and the next second he is out of your room, closing the door behind him.

Your body doesn’t move for the next ten minutes at least, and you have to gather all of your self respect to cast away the tears threatening to spill from the overwhelming shame consuming you. 

Taehyung just saw you knuckles deep inside your pussy.

Taehyung just saw you knuckles deep inside your pussy, moaning his fucking name.

And you didn’t even get to cum.

Is it too dramatic to pack your things and drive back?

People change universities all the time, right? Maybe you can find a nice Literature program in another city, move the fuck away from Taehyung to never have to see his face again.

Deep breaths.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Get your shit together, you’re not a spoiled white young man. You have to face your shit. You have to apologize.

In.

Out.

You slip out of bed, putting on sweatpants and a shirt over your sweaty skin, feeling warm all over. You walk to the door, testing different sentences as you let your head thump against the thick wood. How could you forget to lock this shit? You’re never ever getting drunk again.

Your steps are hesitant as you make your way across the hall, rehearsing a weird apology in your head as you try to build momentum — all in vain, because as soon as you see him, sitting on the floor and looking at the gift in his hands as if it has just spoken to him, your body tenses up and every possibility of courage evades you.

The experience is almost humbling, because you finally understand why he ran away all those months ago instead of facing you. Fuck being the bigger man, you’re gonna pretend as if nothing happened.

Taehyung acknowledges you when you step closer, coming to a stop near him with your hands shaking behind your back. You regret not washing your face before leaving your room, because you can only imagine how disheveled you look right now: embarrassed and sexually frustrated. You’re feeling so hot that for a second you wonder if you can actually melt.

His face doesn’t betray any emotion. If you squint, you can find what looks like confusion in his gaze, but you don’t level his eyes for enough time to assess it.

“I figured we could open up the presents we got.” He states, simply, as if he didn’t just catch you masturbating. You blink, setting your lips in a thin line. You know what? Fuck it. You drop to his side, crossing your legs and keeping your eyes on the gift Soojin bought you and feeling your face burning with his attention. “Let’s open them together. That’s… uhm, that’s how me and my siblings do it.” He instructs, and you nod, but as you both busy yourselves with the wrappings it’s clear from the clumsiness of your actions that your minds are clearly somewhere else.

You peel off the covers of a black paper box, and absentmindedly open the lid, baring its content to both of you.

“Fuck” you hear Taehyung choke under his breath when his gaze falls on your gift, completely forgetting the Céline pants Jungkook got him.

You see, Soojin is a strong advocate for self love and all of her presents always involve some kind of weird liberal feminist agenda to help you girlboss your way through life. So, when she started to randomly ask for your clothing size, you were sure she was gonna buy you some of those weird shirts with a corny quote like Happy, Unbothered, Disciplined and Growing (all things you couldn’t relate too, but would undoubtedly sport in the name of friendship).

You should have suspected, though, when she went through your underwear drawer, but she did seem genuine when she said she just wanted to do your laundry for you.

Well, people surprise you, apparently.

And it’s fair to say you are pretty fucking surprise as you look at the black lace lingerie set in front of you, with a little hope this helps you break your dryspell 😘 note on top of it — the icing on the fucking cake.

You almost want to laugh, the heat in your face becoming unbearable as you quickly reach for the lid to cover the gift up, trembling hands making a poor work to hide your embarrassment.

Forget changing universities. What about a different fucking country?

All moving plans are cleared from your mind when you hear your name. Said in a voice so deep you actually take a while to process it came from Taehyung, and a shiver runs down your spine when you halt your hands, leaving the box half open.

“I’m gonna ask you a question.” He starts, and he sounds so serious you’re suddenly scared of looking up. “I’m gonna ask you a question, and I need you to be as clear as possible, because that’s the only way I’ll understand.”

You gulp, bracing yourself for what’s to come when you nod.

“Why did you say my name?”

Your breath hitches on your throat, and you assume it’s because you expected anything but that question that you raise your head — regretting it immediately, because you don’t meet the familiar soft and kind eyes that you’ve grown accustomed to these past two days. Rather, in its place, you find a dark shade of desire burning through you, enhancing your every sense when he darts his tongue along the seam of his mouth.

“You do that a lot, you know.” You huff out a laugh. “Lick your lips. You have no idea how fucking hot it is.”

When he repeats your name this time, he sounds almost angry, and that prompts you to admit. 

“I said your name because I want you to fuck me, Taehyung.”

He immediately shuts his eyes, and a deep exhale passes his lips before he opens them again. Every inquiry, every doubt has left his eyes when he unabashedly smirks.

“Then what about you try this on, princess. Let’s see if it fits.”

When you step back into the living room you can already feel the anticipation pooling at your brand new panties. You can't help feeling kinda uneasy, so exposed while he's still fully clothed, but when his eyes find your lace clad form, basically eating you whole, something about his shameless attention sends a boost of confidence through you, and you’re sure you’ve never felt sexier in your life.

“Holy shit.” It comes out so quietly that you can barely hear it.

His eyes explore every inch of your skin, and you honestly thought his eyes couldn’t get any darker, but a thick layer of lust makes them so deep you might just get lost on them.

“Come here.” He commands, and you immediately comply, cutting through the space between you and relishing in the soft touch of his hands as his arms snake around your waist, pressing your chest on his.

The fabric of his hoodie is smooth against your skin, his body exuding an intoxicating warmth, leaving you dizzy, sick to be touched as you drive your own hands up his torso and around his neck.

Taehyung, on the other hand, seems to be in no rush whatsoever. His palm is hot against your lower back, pressing you against him, molding you to his figure. With his left hand, he starts to trace your body, trying to commit every inch, every mole, every scar, every expense of skin to memory, starting at your hips, darting inwards to your stomach, grazing up your chest to barely touch the valley between your breasts before his fingertip trace up the column of your neck, finding a resting place around your jaw. 

“Never want to forget this body.” His breath fans across your face, and your eyes flutter shut when he starts to lean in.

The way he kisses you now is vastly different from the kiss you shared last night.

Then, you two were messily trying to suffocate one another, tongues clashing together with little coordination as alcohol fueled your actions and clouded your judgment. 

Now, the soft press of his mouth over yours is calculated. Sweet and deliberate, tasting you like your lips are sacred and taking his time to cherish the way your sensitive flesh feels on his. You have to gather all your self control not to bite him, not to take over, not to just groan out your frustration, and in no time you’re melting under his lead.

He gradually starts to speed up his movements, tilting your face to open your lips with his and slip his tongue inside to lick inside your mouth. Your breathing soon turns into panting as Taehyung acts become more intentional, kissing you as if his life depends on it. 

You entangle your arms around his neck, pushing him closer to further deepen the kiss — and he matches your enthusiasm, lips moving relentlessly against yours, sucking on your tongue and pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, bruising the skin and making sure to swallow your every sound. His hand leaves your face to find your hips, grabbing and squeezing the flesh eagerly. 

Fuck, he’s such a good kisser and you’re already so turned on, you wonder if you could cum just from making out with him.

God, that'd be embarrassing.

After what feels like hours — although you think you could keep kissing him for days — Taehyung pulls away. He rests his forehead against yours, recollecting his breath. 

Can he feel your nipples hardening over the thin fabric of your bra? Because you can sure as fuck feel the agonizing press of his growing erection against your thigh.

He smirks.

“Can I mark you?”

“Yes, please.”

Your pleading voice seems to ignite something feral in him, because when he latches on to your jaw his kisses are nothing short of hungry. He drags his tongue along your cheek, before making sure his mouth acknowledges every spot of your throat, licking, sucking and biting all over your skin.

You can feel him smiling against your neck when your soft, quiet gasps turn into full on whimpers. 

“Shit” you exhale, grabbing a handful of his hair and tugging on it.

The moan that he graces you with makes your eyes roll back in delight. A shiver runs down your spine at the way he shamelessly grinds your hips on his crotch.

He pulls away, hair completely tousled, golden skin darker as he admires the blossoming colors on your neck, painted by his skilled lips. His eyes fall to your panting chest next, and he takes his hand there, enveloping one of your tits and squeezing it not nearly hard enough.

“Fuck, this shit looks amazing on you, but I kinda wanna rip it with my teeth.”

“Don't you dare ruin it, I literally just got it.”

He quirks his eyebrow, and his hand leaves your tits, tracing down your belly and reaching to cup you over your panties. Your hips jolt with the contact and Taehyung chuckles, the cockiest smirk settling on his face.

“Think you’ve already ruined it.” He groans. “God, you're really fucking wet and I've barely done anything.”

“You're hard too. I've done even less.” Your teasing is that much less effective when his fingers are ghosting up and down your pussy.

Taehyung chuckles. His hand rises to the hem of your underwear, grazing the skin below it with tortuous patience, making you clutch his hair even harder. He's sure going bald by the end of this.

“You must be so fucking messy after this morning.” He hums to himself, and you nod. “Did you get to cum?”

“No.”

“Oh, you poor thing.” His hand thread down again, tracing your folds over the lace. “Do you want to cum, baby?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Do you want me to make you cum?”

“Yes, Tae. Please.”

He clicks his tongue.

“Now, that’s just a shame.” He slightly slaps your pussy, making you jolt in his hold and then completely takes his hand away. “Because only good girls get to cum, princess, and you’ve been such a bad girl to me these past days, so damn mean. What makes you think you deserve a present?”

Jesus Christ, if this man doesn't let you cum you're gonna seriously kill him.

“No, I promise I can be a good girl for you, baby, please” he's about to say something else when you drop to your knees, effectively shutting him up. “Let me make it up for you. Show you how good I can be.”

You try to get closer to his legs, but the movements make you wince when your knees scratch against the hard floor. You look around for something to place below your legs, but Taehyung quickly catches on.

“Here” you lift your head just in time to see him pulling his hoodie above his head, revealing his long, toned torso, golden skin shining with a thin layer of sweat and just begging for you to lick and suck some marks up his stomach. 

You're so entranced by his chest, that you take a second to understand he's giving you his clothing, and you don't give it much thought before placing it under your legs. The relief is immediate. 

“Thanks.”

He doesn't answer when your hands spread over his strong thighs, creeping up his leg to his crotch. The hardness of his cock under your palm makes you lick your lips, and you squeeze him, eliciting a sigh out of him. You hook your hands on his waistband, not wasting another second before pulling both his sweatpants and underwear down his legs.

The sight of him almost makes you choke. He's big. So fucking big and thick, but also the prettiest fucking dick you've ever seen and the realization makes you just as frustrated as it makes you wetter. His tip is engorged, flushing dark as a bead of precum accumulates at the crown. God, what a fucking sight to behold. You admire it for a second, mouth watering as you anticipate its weight on your tongue.

“Look so damn beautiful like that, baby.” He praises, hand coming down to wrap around the base of his length. “Wanna suck me?”

“Yes.”

“Go on then.” He pumps himself. “Suck my cock like a good girl.”

You promptly open your mouth, sticking your tongue out and welcoming the weight of his member with a loud moan. You suck his slit, tasting the salty precum with a satisfied hum before licking up his length. You glisten him with your saliva before flicking your thumb over his tip, teasing him and making Taehyung gulp above you.

“You’re so big,” you whine, and he twitches “so fucking sensitive too.”

You alternate between long and short licks, soaking him and coaxing sweet hisses out of his mouth. Your fingers rub his crown, and you wrap your lips around it to give it a dainty suck.

“Look at me” you command, smiling when he does — a large, loving smile before you take his tip closer to your lips and let your spit fall on his cock, spreading it all over his length.

“Holy fuck” he shudders, a long elongated groan passing his parted lips “so fucking hot.”

Pride fills your face as you dive to kiss at his base, palm diligently working on his tip. After some minutes of thorough, but tame motions, Taehyung finally caves in, tone laced in exasperation. “Stop teasing, princess” you can feel your panties sticking to your pussy “do something already.”

“But I’m giving you so much already.” You pout.

“No, no—” his groan is nothing but frustrated “c’mon, don’t you wanna be good for me?”

“Ain’t this good?” You smirk, hand still leisurely stroking his now painfully hard cock.

“You’re so mean.”

“Really? Then I should just stop.” You pause your hand, and Taehyung’s hips jolt.

“Baby” his tone is a warning, and you know you’re playing a dangerous game here, one that’ll definitely bite you in the ass later, but fuck it. It's already so worth it just to see the way his thighs clench and his gaze burns through you.

“You want me to suck you?” You lick your lips slowly, directing his impatient eyes to your tongue.

“Yes, princess.”

“Then why don’t you beg for me, Tae? Ask me real nice and I’ll think about it.”

He chuckles.

Actually chuckles in a weird, choked way, but the ferocity that clouds his eyes only makes you that much more horny. And maybe it’s because he doesn’t fucking care, or — if the throabbing of his dick is anything to go by — maybe he’s just too hard to think properly, but when he opens his mouth again is to grant you the sweetest fucking words you’ve ever heard.

“Please, princess. Be a good girl for me and suck my cock. Make me proud.” You grin.

“With pleasure.”

And you do it, because god knows how much you want it too.

If your pace was teasing, insufficient before, now Taehyung feels on the verge of passing out with the way you sink his length inside the heat of your mouth. The second you take to adjust to the stretch is not nearly enough for him to adjust to the devastating pleasure that you elicit on him, and Taehyung just instantly knows he'll lose his mind when your head starts moving up and down his dick with finality.

“That’s it baby, so fucking good.” He growls, bewitched by the way his cock disappears inside your mouth, mind blanking when you start to hollow your cheeks.

Every little sigh, every breathy moan and especially his strained praises just spur you on, encouraging you to take more and more of him with each passing, relaxing your jaw to the best of your abilities. The noises filling the living room are anything but decent, but the vulgarity of it just makes it even more delicious. 

“Sucking me so well” when you glance up, you can’t help but moan at how fucked out Taehyung looks. Mouth hanging open, eyes glazed with bliss while sweat collects on his forehead, dark hair sticking to his glowing skin as he swallows. You release him with a pop, a string of saliva still connecting you to his tip as you try to catch your breath — hands not stopping. Taehyung’s thumb finds your chin, and you lick your mouth clean “You’re sexy as fuck.”

You take two seconds to make a decision.

“Want you to cum in my throat.”

He looks at you as if you just punched him.

“You want my cum?”

“Want all you’re willing to give me.” And it's true. “Can you do that for me?”

“Fuck yes, baby. Wanna paint that sweet fucking throat of yours.”

You smile up to him, and when your attention returns to his cock you make sure to trace every inch, every vein with your tongue, making it as slippery as possible.

Taking a deep breath, you bring him to your lips again, letting your tongue lay flat under his length as you begin to push it further down your mouth. When he hits the back of your throat, you try to control your gagging and relax your jaw to better accommodate him — and also to not suffocate or something.

“You have no idea how hot you look right now.” But you kinda do, though, if the way he throbs inside you and his knees slightly tremble is any indication.

You start to slowly stretch your throat with him, and Taehyung’s overwhelmed expression is enough to make you deeply moan. His hips jolt at the vibration, making you choke.

“Shit, sorry” he backtracks, helping you recover before you’re guiding him inside again.

When your nose brushes the skin of his stomach, you know you’re not gonna be able to hold in for much longer, and you need him to cum soon, so you push through the discomfort, the tears and the way you just know your throat is gonna be sore as fuck after this, and swallow.

“Ju–just like that, that’s it” he stutters, “I'm close.”

You resume your bobbing movements, head relentless bouncing up and down his cock before you take your hands to his balls. He shudders when your light massage turns into a more thorough fondling and squeezing while you suck around him.

When you glance up at him — tear-filled eyes with nothing but lust looking up at his mesmerized ones with your mouth full of him — Taehyung’s body shudders. Shockwave after shockwave of pleasure erupts on his body, and you can feel the thick stripes of cum shooting down your throat while your lips suck on his tip, milking his high as much as you can — and he cums so much that you struggle to swallow it all. When he removes his cock from your mouth, sucked dry, he’s still jolting with sensitivity. 

“Jesus fuck” he closes his eyes tightly, trying to ground himself. You clear your throat, licking around your mouth to collect any left juices. “You’re unreal.”

He grabs your chin.

“Let me see.” You open your mouth, tongue sticking out to show him no traces of his orgasm. “Such a good girl.”

He then grabs your forearms, pulling you to your feet.

Taehyung gives you no time to stabilize yourself before his lips are on yours, but it’s only after he secures your wobbling form in a tight, strong embrace that you’re able to kiss him back. Your fingers trace up and down his biceps with as much languidness as he makes out with you with. And it surprises you, because you can’t possibly taste good right now, but his lips are so soft that you don’t even protest, thankful for the unhurried touch.

When he breaks the kiss, it’s to pull you into a hug — full on giggling into your ear.

“Fucking thank you.”

You laugh.

“You thanking me for a blowjob?”

Neither of you care about how hoarse your voice sounds, but you clear your throat to try and soothe some of the roughness nevertheless. 

“Hell yeah, your mouth is amazing. Feel like you just sucked me stupid.”

You laugh even harder.

“Nah, I feel like you were already pretty stupid before that.”

His chuckle tickles your ear, leaning his head so his lips touch your shoulder.

“Oh. You completely ruined my hoodie, by the way.”

“What?” You pull away from him in an instant. Gaze falling to his clothes on your feet — and the new wet patch that tinges the gray fabric darker. Your eyes widen in mild panic. “Shit, I'm so sorry, oh my god, I'll—”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, you should be sorry. How dare you get horny from sucking my dick, that's just unacceptable.” You pause, face still hot when Taehyung pulls you back to him, guiding his hands between your legs. The pad of his fingers ghost over your pussy, feeling all your arousal through the damp lace. “God, look at that.” He taunts, and his fingers rise to hook under the sides of your panties, pulling them up and pressing the fabric up your skin. He clicks his tongue. “This must be so uncomfortable.”

“Mhmm” you nod, tightening your grip on his arms.

“What do you say, baby? Think you deserve a present now?”

“Yes.” You sigh when he pulls your underwear even higher.

“No, no, baby. How do we say?”

“Pretty please?” You pout and he grins.

“Uhm, now that's better.”

And then he's kissing you again — but gone is the softness of his lips, now hungrily moving against yours. His hands find your ass, gripping and kneading you to his liking.

The way he shifts from shy-smiling-face-surrounded-by-hearts emoji to smirking-devil emoji is sure to make you lose your mind — and you can't fucking wait.

As you two stumble to your room, you make sure to not leave any inch of his golden skin unattended: bruising up his neck like he did yours, tugging on his hair and running your palms all over his body. Taehyung guides you past your threshold, handling you with care until the back of your knees hits the bed. He hurries you on top of it, promptly falling above you.

“You're so hot” he breathes, lips following the path between your breasts, “the hottest girl I’ve even fucking seen.” He sounds almost angry.

You’re panting as he kisses down your stomach, body squirming in anticipation — gasping when he hoists you closer to the headboard.

“Damn, princess, you’re so desperate.” He chuckles, sucking a hickey onto your hips. “Pussy must be begging for some good fucking.”

“Yes,” you sigh “want you so fucking bad.”

His smirk is devilish, lips hovering down your skin until they're just above your aching core. You raise your hips, trying to get closer to his face, but he easily avoids you.

“Tae,” you whine. “Please.”

“You wanna cum, baby?” You nod eagerly, and he shakes his head, slapping the side of your thigh. “Words.”

“Yes! Fuck, I wan— I need to cum.”

“Good.” And just like that, he is gone, sitting back on his heels.

You grunt.

“Taehyung, I'm not above murder, you should know.”

He laughs, hands coming down to your ankles and pushing them apart. His eyes are immediately drawn to your pussy — or, rather, to your arousal soaking through your panties. 

“You're so wet, baby. Feel like you can cum just if I look at you nice enough.”

“Taehyung” you glare, but your voice is too shaky to hold any power against him.

“I want you to show me.” He says, and the instant confusion on your face prompts a sheepish smile on his own. “How.” He clarifies, massaging your calves. “Want you to finish what you started this morning.”

The prospect of teaching him how to please you makes you warm all over, and if you weren't so distressed you might deny it, ask for his tongue or his fingers — but you are desperate, and no one can make you cum faster than yourself. So your hands jump to the sides of your panties, already pushing them down when Taehyung’s hands stop you.

“Want them on.”

“Kinky” you tease, earning a dramatic eye roll.

You hook a finger around the center of the fabric and push it aside.

Taehyung’s gaze grows darker when you expose your bare pussy, and he slowly licks his lips. His feasting eyes are entranced by the way your arousal drips down your folds, slicking you all the way down to your ass. He swallows thickly, hands pushing your legs further apart.

You don’t give him enough time to bask at the sight, though, because your fingers find your entrance immediately after, spreading your juices around before coming up to circle your clit.

The well-deserved, but so fucking delayed attention making your his jolt. Not wasting any second, you hurriedly roll your fingers, closing your eyes to focus on your precise, familiar movements.

After feeling lubricated enough, you sink two fingers inside your cunt and curl them to stroke your g-spot. Loud, wet squelching sounds fill the room, but you can still hear Taehyung’s ragged breathing above you; his soft grunts encouraging you as you keep fingering yourself, whispering sweet nothings to you. He tells you how pretty you look, how good you are for him, how hot you look when you’re knuckles deep inside your dripping pussy. You take your free hand to your tits, pushing them out of their confinements to twist and pinch your nipples. 

“Fuck, that’s it, baby, look at that” his voice is thick with lust, “such a filthy girl.”

His words tighten the knot in your stomach.

“I–I bet I’ll take your cock so well.”

“Yeah? Fuck, I can’t wait to stretch you, princess.” When you open his eyes, you almost cum just from Taehyung’s all-consuming gaze alone, completely hypnotized by the way your fingers disappear inside your cunt. 

“My thighs,” it comes out so quietly that you force yourself to speak again, “grab my thighs.” 

Taehyung takes a second to process your words, but then his hands are on you. Massaging, gripping, pinching and squeezing the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs with such enthusiasm that will surely leave bruises there too. The added stimulation makes you arch your spine off the bed, eyes rolling back as you can feel more arousal soaking through your fingers.

“Shit, you’re so fucking sexy. Gonna make me all hard again.” He moans, and his movements pause for a split second before he asks: “are you close, baby?”

Your legs start to tremble, and every hit to your g-spot makes you whimper.

“Yeah” you breathe, barely registering his words at this point.

“Look at me.” He commands, and you do. “You wanna be a good girl for me?”

“Yes.” 

“Wanna make me proud?”

“Yes!” You scream, tears blurring your vision — but his next words make your whole body stiffen.

“Then stop.”

You don’t. You can’t. But your fingers do lose momentum.

“What?”

“Stop.” And a slow smirk creeps up his face as yours scrunches up in hazed confusion. “You’re not cumming until I want you to.”

When you fully realize what he’s asking you, your orgasm has already been washed far out of reach. You shudder as your fingers leave your pussy, the tears collected from the pleasure roll down as frustration, but when you open your mouth to complain, Taehyung slots himself between your parted legs. His hair tickles your thighs as he pushes your underwear aside and suddenly licks up your cunt, tongue gathering all the arousal from your folds before his lips close around your clit, sucking hard.

The unexpected stimulation makes your hips jut, shuddering so violently that Taehyung pulls away, chuckling lightly as confusion coats his expression.

“Did you just cum?”

“No!” You whine. “I just… I want to cum so bad, I was so, so goddamn close and now I’m just sensitive as fuck.”

He gives your clit an experimental kiss and you grunt, hands fisting the sheets.

“Shit” he smiles, “that’s just too bad.”

Your head snaps up.

“What… what you mean?”

“You teased the shit out of me before, sweetheart. I’m still deciding if I’ll let you cum.”

“Taehyung,” you sob, “if I don’t cum soon I think I’ll legitimately die.”

“Poor thing.” He mocks.

“I’m so serious right now, please don’t do that.”

Another kiss to your swollen pussy.

“Then fucking beg, princess.” 

Well, that you can do.

“Baby, please” you sigh “please, I’m so sorry for teasing you, just–just please make me cum. Let me cum, please.”

He chuckles.

“As you wish.”

He swiftly pulls your damp panties down your legs, tossing it on the floor behind him, and then his warm tongue meets your pussy again. This time, though, you swear Taehyung is trying to fucking suffocate himself on you. He flicks your clit the same way your fingers did, skillfully twisting it and eating you out with devotion — and you sure feel worshiped. Worshiped by the way he moans, enjoying it as much as you; by the way he swirls his tongue around your clit and licks your dripping juices; but also by the way he grabs your thighs, long fingers massaging and digging on the flesh.

The stimulation is so hard and you’re so pent up, that it doesn’t take longer than five minutes of him thoroughly eating your pussy for you to start to feel your orgasm slowly building up on your body again.

“That’s it, Tae, fu–fuck” you cry out “eating me out so good, just like that.”

You’re basically grinding on his face now, and he flattens his tongue to encourage you to ride him as you please.

“Taste so fucking sweet” he hums. “Should’ve had this for Christmas dinner.”

Your chuckle is shaken when Taehyung plunges one of his fingers inside your walls, stroking you gradually to stretch you up.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He mutters. “Do you want my cock?” You nod, biting down on your lip. He doesn’t appreciate it, humming against you. “Tell me.”

“I–I want… want your cock.”

“Wanna give it to you, baby, but I’ll need you to relax for me. Let me stretch you.”

And you certainly try, but you feel so tense, so desperate to cum that you can’t seem to find your breath.

“That’s–that’s your fucking fault!” You hiss when he finally starts to thrust his fingers faster. “Edging the— nghh, fuck outta me.”

He smiles against your pussy, but says nothing when he slowly introduces a second finger. His movements are precise, careful not to hurt you but determined as he scissors you open, slowing down for you to adjust every time you flinch or so much as goes silent above him. He also changes the pace of his mouth to try and help loosen you up, and holy fuck, you don’t think you have the capacity of imagining such sweet, toe-curling oral, not even in your filthiest, most unrealistic dreams.

When he works you up to three fingers, Taehyung has to pin you down with his free hand to stop you from lifting your hips.

“Shit! Feels so–so fucking good” you whimper.

“Grab my hair.” And you do, hand releasing the sheets to push his sweaty locks away from his view, and the intensity of his eyes on yours almost makes you feel more naked somehow. 

“Jesus fu— nghh”.

Taehyung now fingers you at a relentless pace, and the skill with which he does it — angling his fingers to hit your g-spot, reaching for different sensitive areas and making your walls clench around him — is almost overwhelming.

Your legs quiver, threatening to close around his face.

“Close?”

You’re kinda scared to answer, but it’s not like you can hide it anyway.

“I’m so close! Please, Tae, let me–let me cum!”

The pleasure running through your body is so intense you feel like you could actually pass out if he denies yet another orgasm, and he can surely feel your anguish as you start to chase his face, chuckling lightly before finally saying the sweet words, “Then cum for me, princess. Cum all over my face.”

The orgasm that he coaxes out of you is maddening. Your mind blanks as your pussy clamps down hard on his fingers — which continue to thrust into, prolonging your pleasure. Your whole body shudders, toes curling with everlasting bliss, but you are surprisingly able to keep your eyes open. The sight of him, between your legs, eating you out through your high and making sure to collect every bit of your sweet release on his warm tongue is almost enough to make you cum again.

When you finally come down, refamiliarizing yourself with the whole concept of breathing, Taehyung is looking at you as if you’re sin incarnated, a loose smile on his lips. You feel so spent, but suddenly so impatient too.

“Want you to fuck me.” It’s the first thing you say after your head stops spinning.

He laughs.

“Barely took my fingers out and you’re already asking for more, damn.” He peppers your thighs with soft, soothing kisses. “Pussy so fucking greedy.”

“I want you so bad.” Your voice is so small, so quiet. You swallow dry.

“I want you to, baby.” He comes up to kiss you, sliding his tongue against yours in such a sloppy, lazy way that you can’t help but smile, ignoring the taste of your cum lingering on his mouth. “You made me so hard again, fuck.”

Taehyung grabs your thighs and hooks them around his waist. He takes his fingers to your pussy again, smearing some of your release around to better slicken you up. After deeming you lubricated enough, he guides his dick to your cunt. He drags his tip along your dripping folds, and your breath hitches.

“Fuck, you’re soaking my cock.” He grins. “Who got you this wet, baby?”

“Taehyung,” you sigh, heels pressing down on his lower back, “don’t you dare tease me again.”

“Then answer the question.” He rolls his hips harder over yours, rubbing your clit. “‘Cus I can be pretty fucking patient.”

“Fuck you.”

“I let you cum one time and you’re already talking back again.” He clicks his tongue. “One more chance, baby. Who got this pussy so… fucking… wet?” He punctuates every word with a slap of his cock against your cunt, and you gasp each time, digging your fingers on his back.

“Ungh, fuck, yo–you! Shit, you did, Tae.”

“I made you cum so fucking hard, didn’t I?” He smirks, and your hips jump slightly.

“The hardest” you whimper.

Taehyung’s so fucking glad you gave in this fast — because there’s only so much time he could endure teasing you while being desperate as fuck to feel the warmth of your cunt, to feel you wrapping around his cock the way you did around his fingers. With a deep exhale, he shifts to position his dick at your entrance.

“How do you want it?”

“Rough.” You don’t hesitate.

“Rough? Want me to be rough with you, princess?” Taehyung feels dizzy.

“Yes, please.”

“Yeah? Wanna be fucked like a slut?”

The shiver that runs through your body could’ve been enough of an answer, but you still grant him a breathy confirmation: “Yes, Tae. Want you to fuck me dumb.”

His eyes flutter shut, and, with his last thread of sanity, Taehyung starts to slowly press his dick inside of you.

He is right. You are soaked. But he’s still the biggest cock you’ve ever had. So, despite his attentive fingering and the insane orgasm he just gave you, your face still translates your discomfort as he stretches you up. Taehyung follows your cues, stopping whenever you wince and shallowly thrusting to ease you to his size, letting you adjust before moving deeper.

When his hips finally — finally — are flush against yours, you both exhale shakily.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He digs his fingers in the flesh of your thigh. “You good? Does it hurt?”

“No… just,” you exhale deeply, “gimme a second.”

While you focus on accommodating his size, Taehyung clears his throat.

“I uh, wanted to ask you something.” You notice the subtle distress in his voice, and the gaze you find when you open your eyes is filled with concern. “And be real with me.” You frown, expression slowly matching his.

“... yeah?”

He hesitates, eyes darting away from you.

“Are you… like, actually into furry?”

You burst into laughter, shoulders shaking when you bring your hands to cover your face. Taehyung’s chuckles are unsure when he joins you, flinching when your body trembles slightly. 

“Be honest!”

“Fuck you, Tae, honestly. You’re balls deep inside of me seriously asking me this shit.”

“I mean, I can’t grow a beard for my life, but we can figure something out if—” 

“Oh god, stop! I do not have a furry kink, Jesus.”

“Thank god!” He sighs. “Was really worried for a second.” Your laughter prompts a smile on his face, and he lowers his face to give you a quick peck on your lips.

“You can move now, by the way.”

“You sure?” You nod, pulling him closer.

“Let’s get on to fucking.”

He frowns.

“Damn, you gotta work on your dirty talk.”

“What? You were just talking about furry.”

“It’s different.” He huffs. “I’ll give you one more chance.”

You roll your eyes.

“Go on, baby, rock my world.” 

He chuckles.

“C’mon, that’s not doing anything for me here.”

At that comment, you shift and clench around his cock. His hips buck, reaching even deeper. You pout.

“You seem pretty hard for me.” You hiss when he smacks the side of your thigh.

“You’re such a brat.”

“Just fuck me already.” You brows knit together, and you flicker your eyes down to where your bodies meet, licking your lips. “Please, Tae.”

“You see? That’s way better.”

And fuck you he does.

When Taehyung pushes himself out of you, leaving just the tip, you barely have time to breathe before he’s slamming back inside.

The feeling of his skin dragging against your velvet walls has your mind immediately blanking, head falling back on the pillow.

The ease with which he finds a pace makes you melt under him. You’re already so sensitive from your previous orgasm and all his stupid teasing that you just know this will set a pathetic low time record, but you don’t fucking care. You deserve to feel this fucking good, and Taehyung seems to know that too, because despite the struggle it is to keep his eyes open — the desire to shut them and focus on the delicious feeling of your warm pussy squeezing his cock almost unbearable — his gaze is still trained in your face. In the way you bite your lip, or release it in a silent moan when he gets the angle just right; the way your brows knit together in bliss, or arch to your hairline with a particular hard thrust; or, yet, in the way your hold on him turns almost painful, sure to leave him bruised in the sweetest possible way, whenever he leans over you and brushes your clit.

Taehyung is a slow learner — but he learns, and he won’t close his fucking eyes until he identifies how to unwind you, how to fuck you so good he’ll ruin every other dick for you. And he seems to find it when, after a swift change in his angle, you let out a loud, tortuous scream under him, sending a large, proud smirk to his face.

“That’s it–that’s— nghh, fuck, baby, there!” You cry out, lifting your hips off the bed to try and create even more contact as his cock hits your g-spot.

“You feel so good” feral grunts spill from his mouth as he lets his eyes fall shut, “squeezing my cock so fucking tight” he groans.

Taehyung has never felt more grounded, more present. The slapping sounds, your cries, his grunts, everything is so fucking vulgar. The way the soft flesh of your thighs mold under his palm, the way he fills you to the brim every fucking time is good enough proof that this is real, that this breathtaking pleasure is real, and that Taehyung is really fucking you.

“Been… wanting to–to fuck you for so long.” He pants. 

You arch your spine off the bed, chest pressing on his.

“Holy fuck.”

“God, can’t believe this is happening.” He growls.

Your senses, on the other hand, are clouded by the feeling of his cock splitting you, fucking your body senseless and pounding into you like a man on a mission. His size, his girth, the way he twitches inside of you, making your walls even sloppier… he’ll be the end of you. You never wanted to please someone more, especially after having his mouth on you, and you can feel your control gradually slipping away every time he fills you up, reality a distant idea as he fucks you closer to euphoria. And god, you’re so fucking close.

“Yes! Yes, baby, that–that’s it” you sob, hands fisting the sheets so tightly that — if you were thinking properly — you'd be afraid of ripping it.

“God, you're… nghhn— fuck, you feel so good.” He gasps. “Are you close?”

“So fucking close.” You barely acknowledge the words leaving you, the knot in your stomach about to snap.

At your words, Taehyung’s hand leaves your thighs to reach behind your back, unclasping your bra and letting it fall somewhere in the room. He leans over you, mouth immediately closing around your left nipple, while his large fingers twist and roll the right one. You arch into his touch, sighing when his tongue swirls around your nipple.

“The most perfect tits…” he hums, glazing your chest in his spit as he seeks the other with wet kisses.

“Tae” you moan, hands entangling in his hair and pulling hard, prompting him to give your nipple a light, barely there bite, but it’s enough to make your hips shake under him. “Fuck, I’m… I’m gonna cum.”

“Yes, baby, cum for me. Cream my cock like a good girl.” He moans, words slurred as he lifts his gaze to you.

Your body starts to shudder violently as he pushes another orgasm out of you. Your legs quiver around his waist and your pussy clenches tightly, shoving a deep, guttural groan from Taehyung’s throat while your mind spirals, washing away any thoughts as his name falls lazily from your lips.

It takes a solid minute before you start to think again, body still rocking with his thrusts as he keeps chasing his own release high. You wince at the overstimulation.

“Tae” you whine, fingers digging into his back.

“C’mon, baby, ain’t this what you wanted?” He slows his pace before grabbing your legs and placing them on his shoulder, thighs firmly pressing on his chest. He sinks his cock deep inside of you with each snap of his hips, and you’re immediately gasping for air. “Didn’t you wanna be fucked like a slut?”

“Nghh” god, how is he so fucking good at this.

“You wanted to be fucked dumb. Wasn't it?” You eagerly nod, words evading you. “Then give me one more.” He breathes. “Let me see that pretty face again.”

Taehyung’s not slow, nor gentle this time. Your previous orgasms make his strokes that much easier, more delicious. Loud wet, squelching sounds fall from where your bodies meet.

“Fuuuck— pussy so fucking good.” His praise shoots straight to your core.

As naturally as before, he falls into a rhythm, slamming inside of you. Your head falls back on the pillow, dazed as the position makes him feel even girthier, bigger inside your sensitive walls, rendering you completely unable to form a single thought that isn’t his dick pistoning inside. The new angle allows him to reach even deeper, and you can feel every inch of him throbbing inside of you, grazing your g-spot in a way that has you gasping for air.

The slapping sounds of his skin on yours are sinful, and you take your hands to your tits, slicked with his spit, fondling with them to add to the ever growing bliss. 

He wants to keep saying shit, spill the filthiest fucking stuff just the way he notices that makes you wetter around his cock — but the closer he gets, less can he think properly, his filter completely dissolving.

“Wanna fuck you forever. Watch you cum for days.”

And fuck if that isn’t enticing as fuck for you too.

Your legs get a bit sore from their bent position, but you wouldn’t mind having him fold you half if it meant getting to see Taehyung’s brows knitting together, lips falling apart in silent delight.

“So-so… good… fucking me so good.” Your voice is muffled by the hard banging of the headboard against the wall.

“Shit. I’m close.” You nod. “Where do you want me to—”

“Inside” you interrupt, answer spilling from your lips.

He brokenly moans, mind blanking as his resolve quickly slips away. Thrusting impossibly harder, pouding impossibly faster, Taehyung fucks you eager to fullfil your request. 

You already feel ready to cum again, an odd pressure weighing down on your lower belly. Your mouth falls open, whispering, or rather, mumbling sweet nothings or muddled filth to him — unsure if he's even listening — as pleasure clouds your mind to the point of incoherence.

“Taking me so fucking well, pussy made for my cock.”

Taehyung takes his hand down between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit with ease as he starts to rub it, pressing and circling it with the pad of his fingers as a hard, unannounced orgasm crashes over you. You’re unable to keep still when every nerve of your body jolts with electricity, overstimulation making you lift your back from the bed as a loud scream rips through your throat.

The pleasure that overtakes you blanks your mind, and for a second you feel like you can't stop cumming. Taehyung sounds so distant, and you feel so high, so heavenly, that you almost think you're dreaming the whole thing.

“— all over me.” Is the first thing you hear when your mind starts to clear and your body slowly calms down. 

“Huh?”

You wince as Taehyung keeps fucking into you, pace now careless as he gets close to release, and you tighten your gasp on his arms, fighting through the oversensitivity.

“You just fucking squirted all over me.” You blink at his words, taking a full minute to process them before your head is snapping up in alarm.

Everything is so wet, so sloppy and messy, but before you can say anything — before embarrassment can even reach your skin — Taehyung's body is shaking above you.

“Shit, shit, shit—” He shudders. “I’m cumming.”

His groans are deep as you feel his hot release painting your walls. He digs his fingers into the flesh of your waist, hips jolting with the waves of his pleasure as he squeezes his eyes shut to focus on the overwhelming thrill running through his body. He feels so alight, as if he's just been set on fire, and every inch of him burns with bliss.

“Jesus fuck.” 

A lazy smile spreads on your face when he kisses your calves, gently pushing them to rest on the bed. He crashes on top of you, frantic breathing cooling the sweaty skin of your chest.

“I've also…” you gulp, closing your eyes, “also been wanting this for so long, by the way.”

You feel him smiling against your skin.

“Damn. I’m so happy I might just puke.” 

Your body shakes in laughter.

“God, you’re so annoying.” You pinch his side and he squirms, chuckling before tilting his head to face you.

“I kinda get the Jungkook now, though.” You frown, and he opens a large, boxy smile. “I fucking love Soojin. Best gift ever.” 

You giggle, heat creeping up your neck.

“Ugh, get off me.” You push him away, and Taehyung shifts on the bed, hovering over you.

He pulls his softening cock out of your swollen pussy, and you can see his eyes glimmering before his fingers are spreading your folds apart.

“Shit” he hisses, and you can feel the wet mix of his cum and your own release dripping down your folds. Taehyung doesn’t give you any warning before he’s diving down, licking you clean with a swipe of his tongue and making you shudder. He closes his eyes, humming as he swallows everything. After that, he moves to step out of bed, uttering a quick “hold up” before he’s out of the room.

You can hear some cabinets and drawers opening before he’s back, a towel in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He proceeds to clean you up with the softest, more tender touches possible, mindful of your sensitivity and halting his movements whenever you flinch, while you soothe your raspy throat. 

“You might need to sleep with me tonight.” You frown. “You made such a fucking mess. Sheets are ruined.”

You scoff.

“And who’s fault is that?”

He smirks.

“Sorry I fucked you so good.” You giggle, covering your face when you feel your cheeks warming up.

“So annoying.”

Jungkook loves Taehyung. They’ve been friends for ten years now and — although there have been days — Jungkook would never change anything about his friend.

…

Maybe make him a bit less murderous in the kitchen. But besides? Taehyung is perfect.

…

Okay, maybe not perfect. No one is perfect, and Taehyung did tell a younger, inexperienced and quite stupid Jungkook that girls get hot when you touch the back of their knees. Not to mention that time when Taehyung dragged Jungkook to a regency costume party — a ridiculous one at that: how is a vampire not a historical costume? He was fucking hot with those red lenses, putting Robert Pattinson to shame with that glitter body spray. 

Anyway, the point is: he loves and cherishes Taehyung, especially the sweet fucking body lotions this guy uses (fuck, he smells good). And he knows Taehyung too. He knows Taehyung better than anyone in the world, probably better than Taehyung himself. And that’s why he knows, the second Soojin confesses what she got you for Christmas, that Taehyung isn’t gonna deal well with it.

“For the last time, babe,” Soojin explains, “a woman should never be ashamed of wanting to feel sexy. You men keep making us feel vulgar about our sexual lives, and create all this taboo about our bodies. No wonder why we hate ourselves. In fact, did you know that—”

“Soojin,” Jungkook sighs, pulling their bags out of the uber’s trunk, “I’m just saying that maybe, maybe, you could’ve given her a heads up not to open the gift with Taehyung… they’re probably super awkward already and a fucking lingerie set won’t help.”

Soojin huffs.

“You have no faith in Taehyung.” Jungkook stops in the pathway to the chalet door, giving his girlfriend a pointed look.

“I know Taehyung, it’s different. This will either make him super self conscious about how he fucking vomited on her, or make him wanna swallow his fist because of how horny he’ll get. Either way he’ll malfunction.” Jungkook pauses. “Fucking is also an option.”

She pouts.

“But didn’t he say that they were cool?”

“Fucking is cool, but he could’ve also meant that he’s been locked in his room for three days.” Jungkook’s face twists in concern. “We’re lucky if he even got out to eat.”

“We’re lucky if they didn’t cook anything. The last thing we need is them food poisoning one another.”

“Not to worry. Taehyung knows the treatment by heart now.”

They reach the door, and Soojin grabs the keys in her purse. They’re careful as they step inside, mindful of it barely being past six in the morning, but any attempt at silence is futile when Soojin’s attention is drawn to the living room couch. 

“The fuck?!” She screams, scaring Jungkook to drop down the bags.

The sharp sound makes you jump away from Taehyung’s lap, losing your balance and falling ass first on the hard floor.

The four of you freeze for a moment, sharing weird, confused looks before Taehyung’s heart finally resumes to a normal pace and he understands that no, the house isn’t being invaded and you two won’t get robbed in nothing but underwear, he can’t help but glare at his best friend.

“Jungkook why the fuck are you here?” He says, extending a hand to help you on the couch after you find your discarded shirt on the floor.

“Wow, nice to see you too, asshole.” Jungkook’s eyes flicker to the TV when music starts to play through its speakers, a deep frown settleting on his features. “You watching Grinch? The hell?”

Soojin turns to her boyfriend.

“Is Grinch really the most unexpected thing here?”

“Tae, did she force you to watch Grinch?” He narrows his eyes. “You know this ain’t good for you. You won’t be able to sleep.”

Taehyung groans.

“Jungkook, shut up.”

You quickly put on your pajama top, tugging it as further down as you can.

You open an awkward smile.

“Thanks for the gift, Soojin! We— uhm, I really loved it.”

note ↠ sooo, what do we think? 🥹 i hope y’all liked it! it took sO LONG to upload this omg, tumblr just wasn’t vibbing with our himbo!tae 😔 but it's here! i actually had to learn some quick html codes to edit this lol, i'm so stressed

note² ↠ all form of feedback is deeply appreciated!

note³ ↠ thank you so so very much for reading it 🥹

note⁴ ↠ you can go back to navigation here

[one-highfalutin-sonuva-gun]

Newsie: Bleach

Bleach is a stealthy Brooklyn Newsie with an intense glare and wavy bleach blond hair.

He dresses in a black fedora, white undershirt, and beige pants with his calves exposed. He doesn't wear any socks and has his laces undone so he can quickly remove his shoes and go for a dip at any time.

When he's not carrying the banner, he's carrying a fishing pole

which he gently places against a different sort of pole.

He's Spot Conlon's watchdog, always keeping an eye out for people who don't see eye to eye with him, such as Jack.

Bleach is light on his feet, moving from one place to another in the blink of an eye.

He sneaks up behind Jack, watching his every move. Bleach has one eye on Jack's back and the other eye on his surroundings.

Deep down, Bleach respects Jack because they both wear black, brimmed hats.

[j-saying]

Israel don't care about the hostages

(a visual demonstration)

Right. Which is why you get to see those things EVERYWHERE.

(I censored faces for privacy)

Ben gurion university:

[ID: a big banner at the fence of the University - mosaic of hostages faces and the writing "bring us back now" in Hebrew./ID END]

[ID: poster with face and names of 7 of the hostages and the writing "it's not whole without them"/ID END]

[ID: a small community garden. There's a small sitting area in the middle of it, with a big banner. The banner says "bring Noa back home now" and has the photo of Noa Argamani, that was kidnapped from the Nova Festival/ID END]

Soroka hospital:

[ID: OB/GYN ward in Soroka hospital. The walls are cover with Hostages posters. Every poster has a name in 2 languages, age, photo, and "bring him/her home now!". Some posters are tagged with "returned" or "murdered" /ID END]

"/ID END]

"/ID END]

[ID: a big banner at the side of a building - photos and names of 5 hostages (from Nir Yitzhak kibutz) and the writing "bring them back home now" in Hebrew. Lower, at the metal fence, there's a newer and smaller banner with 4 hostages/ID END]

Bonus - a traffic light pole with stickers:

[ID: 2 stickers - the top looks newer, and has a photo of a young woman and the writing "in memory of Libbi Kohen-Mguri 5.6.2001-07.10.2023. I'll remember you with all my heart. The last word is Libbi ("my heart" in Hebrew) bigger and red, and there's a heart drawn by that.

The lower sticker shows a young man with a dapo/dapostar. There's a small writing "Shahak Yosef Hadar HYD" (HYD is short for Hashem Yikom Damo "may god avange his blood", said about people who were murdered- usually for being jews.)/ID END]

[freesia-writes]

Chapter 3: Boys at the Bar

Enjoy an immersive, warm and fuzzy tale of romance, suspense, adventure, and self-discovery as Hunter finds his path after the events of TBB. Banner and dividers by @pinkiemme ~ Master List here ~ Previous Chapter

Chapter 3 - Word Count: 2.2k

The motley assortment of local tree nuts and shells in the decorative wind chimes swung back and forth contentedly in the breeze, brushing up against the wooden poles that held them up. Their gentle sounds were lost to the wind and the waves, which provided a calming backdrop to the happy atmosphere of the tiki bar. It was the only establishment that was actually down on the beach, brightening the shoreline with its thatched roof and colorful lights that stretched from the covered L-shaped bar counter out across the outdoor seating, which sat on low, carpeted decks. 

Considered to be the proverbial living room of Xylo, it was frequented by locals from every walk of life and provided some entertainment in the form of karaoke nights, card game tournaments, and other random ideas. A creative assortment of island drinks was offered in addition to a fairly impressive menu of food, allowing it to be a restaurant for families to enjoy before it turned into a slightly more raucous adult lounge in the evenings. 

Crosshair shifted on his stool, angling his back toward the pillar behind his seat and taking in the activity around him. There were some new faces, so it was only fair that they receive an unflinching assessment to determine how much future observation they would require. His sharp eyes followed their interactions and demeanors, and a certain dynamic had piqued his interest enough to distract him from the bartender’s arrival at his elbow. 

“You’re gonna scare em away if you keep glaring, Silver,” came a bright voice that snapped him out of his scrutiny. His hair had grown out a bit during their months on Xylo, earning him a nickname from Luciana, the bubbly, outgoing bartender who seemed to know everything and everyone.

“So what?” he answered, not taking his eyes from the targets.

“Soooooo that means I don’t get tips. Now cut it out,” she poked, grasping his forearm and giving it a playful shake. “Unless you’re gonna cover what they’d be paying…”

“What’s this?” Hunter asked, sliding into the seat next to his brother. “Crosshair’s paying other people’s tabs? What did you put in his drink?” 

“Hunter!” she huffed, her voice sugar and spice as she flashed a coy look of shock and affront in his direction. “I would never!”

“You would in a heartbeat,” Crosshair said dryly, finally turning back to the conversation behind him. “Don’t pretend like you’re some angel, Luciana.” 

“Oh, sweetie, we know that’s not the case,” she countered, leaning on the bar with her elbows close enough to give her shapely bosom a little boost. “But you’re still too chicken to find out.” She finished with a wink and an open-mouthed smile before being called to the other end of the bar, holding up a finger to Hunter and giving it a little waggle before darting off. 

“Your partner’s not gonna like that,” Hunter remarked, shoving Crosshair’s elbow with his as they rested near each other on the counter. “What was their name? Farkel? Faryl?”

“Doesn’t matter; they’re gone,” came the hissed reply, a surprise to no one. 

“Hm,” was Hunter’s equally unhelpful response, unsure of how to proceed. 

“Apparently there’s such a thing as too much similarity,” Crosshair explained, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

“I can’t imagine. Two of you? You’re telling me that wouldn’t be a cruise in a hyperspace lane?” 

The vulgarity of Crosshair’s retort was lost in Luciana’s return as she flounced back to stand before them, spreading her hands to either side and resting them on the wooden countertop. 

QUICK BREAK FOR FANART BY @clownbloody!!

.

“Alright Xyrgio, what’ll it be tonight?” she crooned, tilting her head at Hunter. She’d immediately informed him upon his first visit to the bar that he reminded her of an action holo star that she’d “always had the hots for”, and he’d been given the name from then on. It seemed mostly harmless, at least until Hunter had been put on the spot to explain it to Omega over an afternoon snack of porg tenders one day. 

“Eh, I don’t know,” Hunter said, rubbing his forehead. 

“It’s cute that you think that,” Luciana answered, hands already moving across bottles to mix a dry concoction that Hunter had come to enjoy. “You can keep believing you’re gonna branch out one of these days, but until then, it’s the Luci special for you.” She squeezed a bright purple wedge of fruit into the top before dropping the rest of it into the drink, stirring it with a long spoon that she licked when finished, catching Hunter’s eye with a coy grin.

“The Lucy Special? That’s what this is called now?” he said absently.

“Luci with an “i”, baby. Don’t you forget it,” she echoed, pushing it toward him with a flourish. “Aha! I was wondering where the other boys were! Glad you didn’t miss the Grand Re-Opening!” Her announcement was met with the arrival of Tech and Wrecker, and amid the greetings, Hunter noticed Crosshair glancing behind them for any sign of Echo, who was unexpectedly absent. 

It warmed his heart that the sniper was allowing himself to be somewhat a part of the family again; he had been slow to abandon the deep regrets he held that made him feel unworthy, but the unconditional love from Omega and overwhelming love from his family at having him back had allowed him to find some semblance of peace. While their slow settlement into island life had its ups and downs, his gratitude for their safety was foundational. Crosshair still maintained a regular facade of disdain and snark, but there was an undeniable undercurrent of warmth beneath it all.

“Couldn’t miss the new freshers, haha! And I nearly built an entire house today!” Wrecker exclaimed, plopping jovially onto a stool next to Crosshair. Tech opted to stand, leaning on the counter and nearly disappearing behind the hulking mass of his brother.

“Considering the amount of time required for many of the construction materials used on this particular island to set and remain solid, that is actually somewhat worrisome.”

“Oh shove it, Tech. You’re just jealous. Besides, what are you doing these days anyway?” Wrecker returned.

“Leeching off his pirate girlfriend so he can read all day,” Crosshair muttered, startled by Luci’s bright laugh as she slid a large mug of beer toward Wrecker and popped open a can of seltzer water for Tech. 

“I am most certainly not–” 

“Heyyyy, be nice!” Luci interjected, cutting off Tech’s heated retort. “Genius here is going to revolutionize the entire island after he learns everything about it!” Crosshair’s groan was also interrupted by her continuing, “Don’t listen to him, Tech.” She turned to face him now, tracing light fingers across the back of his hand, which he clenched and pulled away. Unfazed, she gave him a confident nod and a brilliant smile. “You’re doing us all a favor, I’m sure.”

“Thank you, Luciana,” Tech said pertly, pointedly not meeting her eyes. “Although I do not believe this island is in need of a revolution. I merely hope to apply my brilliance to various procedures and practices with the intention of improving life for the residents as much as possible.”

“Gotta do something with all that brilliance, babe,” Luci affirmed, tapping the counter before disappearing to deliver some food to a table. 

“Look out, Tech,” Crosshair said bitterly, and Hunter wondered for a moment if he were jealous of the attention channeled toward his brother. “Phee’s not going to like that one bit.” 

“I see no reason for Phee to find any issue with the particular manifestations of a random individual’s personality.”

“We’ll see how she feels when I tell her,” the sniper jabbed, reveling in the clear discomfort belied by Tech’s sudden shift in position. 

“Cut it out, Cross,” Wrecker said, stuffing his face with a basket of roasted potato wedges that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. His ability to procure food in any situation was a regular marvel to the rest. “Hey, how’s Omega’s trip goin?”

“Sounds good so far,” Hunter answered. “She’ll be back the day after tomorrow. Nothing much to report otherwise.” 

The rest of the night progressed with idle chatter and a variety of plates they shared between them, and finally ended as the sea breeze began to prickle their skin with a hint of cold. The sun was sinking low in the sky, earlier and earlier each day as the planet’s cooler months approached. Xylo shared a 24-hour rotational schedule with Core Worlds like Coruscant, but it took 404 days to travel around its star. The winter came with increased rainfall, strong winds, and a biting chill to the air that invited cozy sweaters and roaring fireplaces as joyful additions to daily life. It also meant that people retired to their homes earlier, driven indoors by their acclimation to warmth and distaste for anything less than the balmy comfort of the other months of the year.

With a round of mumbled goodbyes after settling the bar tab with Luci, the clones dispersed. Hunter hung back for a moment, taking a little stroll toward the edge of the beach, mesmerized by the gentle glow of the two moons reflecting off the surface of the waves. His thoughts drifted from the tasks that awaited him in the butcher shop to a general wondering about Omega and her experiences on the other island. Sometimes it was hard to keep the nightmares at bay, and he had to consciously remind himself that everything had turned out alright despite the harrowing paths they’d had to take to get there.

Suddenly becoming aware of an approaching presence, he turned to see Luci venturing out from behind the bar, her black half-apron tied around her small waist, which was bare for a few inches beneath a tight white shirt that left little to the imagination. Her cutoff jean shorts were hidden behind the apron’s pockets, where she’d tucked her hands as she came to stand beside Hunter, hugging her elbows into her sides against the chilly breeze.

“You miss your girl?” she asked, a quick side glance at his face checking his response before she returned her gaze to the rolling waves of the sea. 

“Eh, I guess you could say that,” Hunter admitted, a jolt running through his body as she nestled against his side, her bare arm brushing the fabric of his shirt. “It’s just different without her around.”

“I know,” Luci agreed, her voice soft and unguarded. “She’s so sweet. You’re such a good daddy.” Her rich green eyes found his as he looked at her in surprise, balking at her choice in words.

“I’m not a daddy,” he laughed, wrinkling his nose and shaking his head. Something about that word rankled. His stance beside her was stiff; he didn’t want to pull away but wasn’t entirely comfortable either. “We just all watch out for each other. That’s how it’s always been.” 

“Daddy, brother, friend, whatever…” she conceded, “You care for her, and for the others. And you do it so well. It’s just really admirable.” Her tone was warm, her affection plain in a way that allowed him to feel his guard lowering a little. Hunter shifted on his feet, and she took the opportunity to lean into him a tiny bit more. “Thanks for hiding me from the wind for a minute, too,” she explained, her red hair waving in the breeze. “It’s gonna be a busy night; I just needed a break. Or maybe a new job.” Luci giggled, pushing her curls back in a futile attempt to contain them momentarily. 

“Got something else in mind?” Hunter asked nonchalantly, his inquiry met with a shrug of her shoulders against his side. 

“Always,” she said quietly, eyes brightening as she considered the moons, coming ever closer with the shift in season. “I love trying new things. There’s always adventure to be had. New places, new foods, new jobs, new people…” She fell quiet for a moment, her tone turning almost wistful before vanishing with the next crash of a wave on the shore. “But I’m starting to like it here more and more,” she purred, looking up at Hunter to give him a playful wink. 

“Luciana! We’re dying of thirst over here!” came a holler from the colorful bar, and she rolled her eyes in mock fatigue. “I guess it’s time to get back,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself as she pulled away from Hunter. “I’ll see you around!” He found himself watching the sway of her hips as she walked gracefully back to the carpeted decks of the restaurant, noticing a funny sensation in his stomach along with a mild frustration at his inability to read her fully. She seemed to be someone who very much wore her heart on her sleeve – she didn’t hold back her thoughts and opinions, and she had a zest for life that invited others to join in. But he couldn’t tell if her interest in him was anything different from the flirty way she enjoyed everyone who crossed her path. He supposed it didn’t matter much, attempting to shrug it off as he made his way to the empty house, but the nagging thought remained – just how much could he have a “normal” life?

Previous Chapter ~~ Master List ~~ Next Chapter

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Get a feel for Luci with a lil moody mood board.

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[gaysindistress]

Van Helsing Retold - two

pairings: vamp hunter!reader x vamp!bucky

Summary: Under the cover of night, vampires and their hunters have been at war for centuries, never letting their bloodshed reach the light of day. That is until the wife of a powerful vampire leader, Steve Rogers is murdered and he demands revenge. Y/N Van Helsing is the target of his crusade and she comes face to face with his right hand man, Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: cursing

Word count: 2.7k

One | series masterlist

Tag list: permanent @vonalyn @hidden-treasures21 @unaxv @cakesandtom series

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest. The women in the banners are purely for aesthetic purposes.

Bucky shoves his hands in his jacket pockets as he approaches a shadowy figure sitting on a bench by the river’s edge. The figure tips his head back to look at the vampire and then looks back to the water.

“Took you long enough,” Sam says as Bucky sits next to him, “it’s cold as hell out here.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “maybe you should’ve worn a thicker coat if you’re going to complain about everything.”

Sam narrows his eyes at him, “care to explain what happened between you and y/n?”

“How is she?”

“First tell me what happened.”

Bucky shrugs his jacket further onto his shoulders, “I didn't mean to throw her that hard.”

“Jesus,” Sam mutters to himself at first, “she’s alive but things aren’t looking great. Peggy’s venom got into a cut on her hand and the doctor was only able to freeze it.”

Bucky’s jaw tenses as he listens to Sam and when he responds, the words are low and deliberate, “Steve wants me to kill her and if he finds out she has venom in her system, he’ll make me turn her.”

Sam lets out a disbelieving laugh, “you can’t be serious.”

Stern blue eyes meet his dark brown ones.

“Fuck, what are we going to do?”

Bucky looks towards the river, “how badly do you want your Guild Master dead?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

Sighing, Sam looks to the river too, “You think Steve would buy it?”

Bucky shrugs, “You’ll need to get some of her stakes and hide them in John’s stuff. I’ll tell Steve that she told me it was him and then I killed her. I’ll set her safehouse on fire and you’ll get her to safety.”

“He’s going to search the fire for a body.”

“I’ll handle that. All you need to focus on is hiding her stakes in his room and getting her somewhere safe.”

Sam gets to his feet and turns to walk away but asks one more question before leaving, “Why do you care what happens to her?”

“I…i don’t know.”

The vampire hunter rolls his eyes, “so much for trust and honesty.”

“I am being honest. I don’t know why but I do. Everytime I even think about her, something inside me feels like it’s breaking. Fuck, when I threw her in the warehouse, I felt it. I felt her hit the pole and pain in her head. And…and I couldn’t figure out why my hand has been hurting but now it makes sense,” Bucky mumbles as he stares ahead and clenches the hand in question.

“I thought…” he starts but gets tripped up over his thoughts, “I thought that… you know… you couldn’t feel each other until you’re both turned.”

Pained blue eyes rip away from the dark river and snap to Sam.

“We’re not supposed to be able to. We might feel a draw to them if they’re still human but she…” Bucky blinks rapidly for a moment as if to blink back tears, “she’s not just any human. She’s a Van Helsing, it would make sense if the bond showed up differently.”

“Do you…do you really think she’s…”

Bucky cuts him off, “for her sake, I hope not.”

“And what about you?”

He takes a long pause before speaking, “what I want doesn’t matter.”

Waking up in the infirmary once again is a cruel reality check; however, the blinding lights saved me from the dream I'd been having.

I’m back in the warehouse but instead of the female vampire on the floor, it’s me. My own stake is deep in my chest and I’m falling to the ground as he yells for me. His voice is strained and cracking as he cries out my name but he’s too far away to do anything, to save me. The agony in his eyes brings tears to my own and they burn as I jerk awake with them still falling down my face.

Sitting straight up, my body feels like it’s on fire and my venomous hand is pulsing as if it has its own heart beat. I slowly bring it into my view, the hand shaking as I stare down at it. Black veins crawl up to my wrist but stop and the skin has a deathly color to it. The bones beneath the thinning skin are prominent and ache from the venom among other things. Hidden under the veins is the small scar where the venom must have infected me. Vampires heal at extraordinary rates but the place where they were infected and turned remains. I’ve seen some with gashes down their chests, others with thin bands on their necks, and the one that did this to me had the smallest puncture wound on her neck. I wonder where and what his scar is.

Sam's soft snoring breaks my trance and I look over to find him slumped in a chair, fast asleep. His legs are outstretched and his arms are crossed over his chest as his head leans against his chest. He’s dressed in a thick coat and I can see where the night’s rain hasn’t dried just yet. He must have been out hunting but I don’t see any gear, any weapons on him.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he teases me and my eyes flicker to his dark ones, “how are you feeling?”

“Like I’m half dead.”

“Closer to death or life?”

I look at my hand for a moment, “like 55% alive.”

He groans as he stands and stretches, “I’ll take it.”

A ball of black fabric lands on my feet and my boots thud at the side of my bed.

“Get dressed.”

“Why?” I narrow my eyes at him as I shrug a black turtleneck on and snap my worn but beloved tactical vest on.

He turns to give me privacy as I put on the cargo pants, “I found a lead.”

I pause as I’m lacing my boots, “on what?”

“Your hand.”

“Who did you sell your soul to to get that info?”

Sam laughs, “more like who did I have to kill but same difference I guess. It doesn’t matter though. My contact said that this Helmut guy has an anti venom of some kind.”

“That sounds like a bunch of bullshit,” I scoff as I stand, my body protesting from being bedridden for three days. Pulling my jacket on I stop at Sam’s side where he turns to me with a gentle smile.

“Bullshit or not, we have to try.”

“Or we could cut my hand off. I’m sure John would buy the best prosthetic hand money can buy.”

“And forever be indebted to that man?” He teases me again and slings his thick arm over my shoulders, pulling me into his side, “not a chance in hell. Not a chance.”

Something is wrong.

Something is…..off.

Outside of the office we’re sitting in is too quiet with it being in a thriving nightclub. We pushed past dozens of intoxicated people and were surrounded by even louder music but here in this room, I hear none of it.

The men around us are too still, too unmoving. They’ve made no noise, not even those that come with breathing. The man before us, or at least what I assume is one, also isn't moving. I can’t tell with the maroon mask that covers their face. Regardless, something feels deeply wrong about this place.

The person before us in the maroon mask suddenly leans forward in their leather chair and sniffs the air.

They sniffs the fucking air.

Even though I can’t see their entire face, I can see everything I need to in their eyes that are pinning me to my chair. Sam stiffens next to me and I make a quick sweep of the room with my eyes for anything to help us out. I’m in no position to be pulling the shit I'm about to be but if I’m right (which I usually am) and Sam led us into a vampire den, I’m going to have to pull this shit regardless of how I feel.

The masked vampire leans back into their chair and tears their chin on their fist.

“You don’t have much time,” he says to me in a low accented voice. German.

A German vampire.

Even fucking worse.

I narrow my eyes at him, “probably not. Comes with the territory though.”

“Ah the dangerous life of a vampire hunter,” he chuckles, “tell me Van Helsing, who did it?”

“The wife of the leader of the Captain’s Guard.”

I can see the mask raise as he raises his eyebrows at my admission.

“And for my next trick, I’ll turn this bottle of whisky into assault and battery,” I say plainly as I tear said bottle from the desk in front of me. I smash it on the edge and throw the two halves at the guards behind us. Before they can move to defend themselves, the broken bottle halves lodge into their necks and they fall to the ground. Sam is quicker with his matches and flicks a bundle at both bodies as the masked vampire stays in his place.

When I turn to him, he pushes his chair back and stands. Rounding the corner, he perches himself on the front of the desk with his hands clasped in front of him. He’s holding something but I can’t see what it is nor did I see him grab anything. Sam pulls me slightly behind him as he stares at the other man, “Do you have it?”

“Of course I do,” he says and reveals a syringe with thick black liquid in it, “but it won’t do her any good.”

“is that the anti venom?”

“It is for some but for you no.”

“Quit the cryptic riddles, is that the anti venom?” I snap as I step around Sam but his arm is quicker and it yanks me back behind him.

“As I just said, not you. What you need is the blood of the one that you crave and this,” he says, lifting the syringe so it dangles in between us, “is not that.”

I let out a cry of anger as it tumbles from his hand and smashes on the floor. Sam hauls me into his arms and pins me to his chest.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I hiss at Sam as he struggles to keep me against himself, “he just broke his bargaining chip.”

“Ah but that’s where you’re wrong. The anti venom that I dropped,” he throws a pointed look at the black blood and broken glass at our feet, “is useless to you. Not even the blood of the vampire thet your venom belongs to could cure you. The only one who could is the one that you crave.”

“What are you talking about? The one I crave? I’m a Van Helsing, I don’t crave any vampire let alone their blood,” I sneer at him. I'd stopped fighting and allowed him to hold me up. My body is weak already and the little whisky bottle action that I did see drained whatever energy I had stored. I can feel the fatigue seeping into my body and the venom finds joy in being able to cause me great amounts of pain.

“You may be a Van Helsing but you are no better than the rest of us,” he sneers back before looking at Sam, “I gave you what you wanted and now it is your turn to give me what I want.”

“No, all you gave us was a riddle that’s impossible to solve,” he says through clenched teeth as his grip grows tighter on me.

The vampire says nothing but cocks his head slightly towards the door behind us. It clicks open and a familiar scent of cinnamon mixed with incense wraps around us.

“Helmut,” the voice that’s haunted me for a week now says slowly.”

Helmut, the masked vampire, seems to smile behind the maroon face covering, “Hello lap dog.”

Even though I can’t see him, I can feel the anger that boils under his skin and the way his body tenses in efforts to control it. I can feel the deadliness of him in the way his footsteps stalk towards us, the predator in him aiming for Helmut. He stops at Sam’s side but far enough back that I can only see the leather jacket he’s wearing. My sick hand begins to ache and I try to push it away by gripping onto Sam’s arm tighter but it does nothing. If anything it causes another way of anger to rip through his body and it comes out in his voice.

“You’re on the Captain’s Guard’s territory,” is the only thing he seems able to say.

Helmut shrugs and settles on the desk, “It was once all the same, why shouldn’t it be that way now?”

“This is punishable by death.”

“But I have a suspicion that you won’t follow through on those orders.”

Sam starts to slowly move us backwards and it seems like the two vampires don’t notice. They throw violent words back and forth, completely ignoring that we’ve almost made it to the door. Sam lets me go enough to open it but a sweeping wave of exhaustion wipes over me and I crumble fast. He’s barely able to pick me back up as I struggle to keep my eyes open but he’s not focused on me.

His attention is solely on the two bloodsuckers that are now turned to us.

An involuntary moan of pain leaves my lips as he tries to pull us away and the last thing I hear before the black fades in again is the sound of his voice calling out to me.

A beautiful cry in the cacophony of chaos that is the inside of my head.

Pain erupts at the back of Bucky’s head and it threatens to blur his vision. Helmut makes another snide comment but all he can focus on is the pressure building at the base of his skull and the fear that’s raising in his throat.

A sound so heavenly calls to him from behind but in combination with the physical effects he’s dealing with, he refuses to dwell on it. Turning he stops Sam with the Van Helsing girl in his arms.

She looks…weak. Black veins pulse in one of her hands and her eyes flutter close as she goes limp in the other hunter’s arms. Her skin has a deathly hue to it and her pulse barely registers from across the room. The sound that caused him to turn at first was really a moan of pain and his blinding need to make sure she is okay distracts him from Helmut. The masked vampire launches himself at Bucky and tackles him to the ground. His mask is gone now so he can allow every bit of venomous anger he has to be conveyed in his face.

“I should cut her and force you drain the life from her,” Helmut sneers, baring his teeth in a truly animalistic manner, “or maybe I should tell your master who she is to you and let him decide how to dispose of her.”

Time slows.

Sam’s and the van helsing girl’s heartbeats pound in Bucky’s ears. Helmut’s satisfied smile at his silence morphs into one terror and he falls away from Bucky as blood pours from his chest. There’s a dull thud and rolling follows as Bucky slowly climbs to his feet. Stepping over the heart that was once in Helmut’s chest, he approaches the two hunters. His piercing eyes are zeroed in on the girl and she’s passed off to him.

She makes a faint noise but nothing aside from her breathing. Bucky shakes as he pulls her tight against him and buries his nose in her hair. The smell of Jasmine and oranges floods his senses as he allows himself to find comfort in having her against him.

He hooks an arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders as Sam ushers them out. The club is as packed as it had been when they all arrived but no one notices the three. Sam gets them safely to his car and takes off as fast as he can by that time the Van Helsing girl starts to blink awake.

[k12academics]

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[mbirnsings-71]

again! another piece for the @batfam-big-bang this year!!

This is for @cornflowerbluewrites's very wonderfully written fic that you can now read here! Like woo if you're a Dick Grayson fan I highly recommend you guys read it, because it'll somehow hurt and heal you with everything that happens in it!!

Also check out @essiestarr's drawing for this fic here!! because it's also very stunning and I think you all need to see it!!

I'm very happy to have been able to draw for this fic, so I really do hope you guys enjoy it! Plus the team was very friendly and nice to work with so make sure to check them out!!!

Image ID underneath the keep reading because again, it got very long, but it's thorough at the very least!

[Image ID: A digital drawing of Talia Al Ghul, Bruce Wayne, and a young Dick Grayson gathered around Mary Grayson, flat on her back, in the middle of Haly's Circus. Both Dick and Mary are wearing the Flying Grayson costumes of red leotards with yellow in the middle, green braces on their arms, and Mary is wearing green flats. Mary is trying to look at her son with tears in her eyes, Dick and Talia are knelt next to Mary, with Dick holding his mother's hand while crying, and Bruce is standing behind Dick with a hand on the young boy's back. Bruce is wearing a plain buttoned up dark grey suit with a black tie, grey socks, and black shoes. His face has an upset expression on it as he watches the scene. Talia is wearing a open shoulder mock neck white dress that fades to green at the end of it, the sleeves stop at her elbows, a light green sash is tied around her waist, and there is a triangle cut in it at her chest. She also has gold jewelry on such as gold bracelets, a gold beaded necklace, and gold stud earrings. She is looking at this scene somberly. The background of the piece is the inside of a circus tent with abandoned wooden stands in the background for people to sit on. There are also red and white triangle banners overhead hung on metal poles, but are behind a red and white divider that separates the stands from the actual circus performances. the floor of the performance area is a gravel texture. At the bottom of the drawing is a black gradient upwards with text of Dick and Mary speaking, the words being said are "Mom, please." and "I love you, my little Robin, I, I love, you."]

[fountainpenguin]

"Now you've used up all your luck! It's time to get what you deserve! I'm holding out for karma..." (x)

---

New Dog's Life chapter today! ~ 3rd Life series fan-season

Chapter 19 - “Extinguish (Cleo, Grian, Bdubs)”

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

---

Cleo and Tango take off with Jimmy and his super nice friends hard on their heels. Grian and BigB talk about 100-day courtship customs as they debate whether it's time to go their separate ways. Also, Impulse and Bdubs discuss feelings in the rain or something, idk.

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

---

ZombieCleo - Salmon

Quarry: MumboJumbo

Hunter: Renthedog

Allegiance: Lush Cave Alliance

💚 💛 ❤️

Stumbling down the pokey-hole passageways, shoving feet in boots, is far from the way Cleo wanted to be spending Truce Night. Running's hell when you're a partial fish person with webbed toes, actually. She's got a newfound respect for however Scott pulled it off in Limited Life.

Tango sprints ahead. He's the first to reach the end of the tunnel- he spins his pickaxe into his hand with a swirl of white light and starts hacking at a patch of coal. Cleo, cheeks all puffed, glances back. Water gushes across the floor. A bucket would've been nice. Tango's got all their buckets.

"Oh, we should've grabbed the water-"

There's no time for that now. A pillager with a loaded crossbow drops and fires another shot. Cleo slams flat against the wall. The bolt grazes past their cheek. Geez. She unsheathes her sword in a crackle of sparks. Their shield flashes to their other arm. Tango's behind them, yelling that he's carved a doorway they can crawl through. But, see… It's only one pillager.

That patrol doesn't see Jimmy as a threat. They see him as a captain. If they're player-managed instead of AI-led, that's gonna bite- Not many opportunities to get this close-

"I'm fine!" Cleo charges forward, sword arm reared behind her. Oh, it totally leaves her an open, gaping target, but that's what shields are for. The pillager doesn't even blink before launching another crossbow shot. The bolt thuds against wood. Cleo slashes down. The pillager flashes with the hit and Jimmy's shriek sets every scale down her tail bristling on end.

She goes in for the stab. A second blur plunges into the water and Cleo veers their attention, only to clash swords with Jimmy. The angle's awkward- backhanded on their part, actually. Jimmy's left-handed and he nailed the hit. Her sword goes flying. It clatters down the wall. Jimmy's eyes scream bright and violet in the dark. Her own green glow reflects off his clenched and hissing teeth. A second pillager drops down, thumping around the limited elbow room like a squash ball.

"Jimmy, stop playing- What are you doing? You can't" - (Duck, stumble backwards, shield struggling against the assault of a crossbow and a sword at the exact same time) - "Why are you here? Oh, you are so suspended from my class!" With a finger flutter, she summons her sword from the ground and back to her hand.

"Sorry, Cleo! I did break your beds!" Jimmy rears back, but instead of his sword, he kicks the heel of his boot directly down the center of her shield. Cleo staggers back again and barely gets it up in time to deflect two crossbow bolts in a row. Tango yells from down the hall, but from the sound of it, he's digging a tunnel. Wants them to join. Thank gods he didn't disappear down one of those side paths- I'd never find him in time.

"You're on purple! You can't do this!"

"I'm not, I'm not! It's them!" This time, Jimmy flips his sword and ominous banner to opposite hands. The banner's wrapped around a long pole of reddish jungle wood. He rears it behind his head and brings it slamming down like a blade. Cleo jerks back, feet skidding on wet stone. She smashes her shield against his skull. Jimmy yelps. The pillagers grunt, pressing closer to him. They look like baby birds on the prowl for warmth. Gods. A third drops from above and Tango yells again. One crossbow shot catches her on the shoulder. She's low- Oh, she's so friggin' low-

"TANGO!"

"I'm here!"

Right. Cleo shuffles backwards, fumbling through her absolutely meager food supply. She stocked up on half a dozen salmon in the river, but Ren and Bdubs were there and that's all she got. At least she took the liberty of cutting her meat in advance. She shoves two small chunks in her mouth. Jimmy…

Jimmy's blinking, clutching one hand against his left eye. He slumps against the wall. Cleo, with a breath, turns and sprints down the hall towards Tango. Boots slam and clunk on every step and her webbed toes pinch against the tip. Tango races towards her, yelling and holding up his shield.

"Eat! EAT!"

"Okay!"

Tango shoves past, taking the next pillager shot dead-on. Cleo hurries past him, scarfing down salmon, and ducks inside his tiny cave. Tango keeps pace as best he can, hustling backwards in a crouch. The pillagers flicker… then turn to look at Jimmy. Their bows hitch up. Jimmy's mouth drops down. Instantly, he's fumbling the banner between his hands again.

"No, no, no! I'm your captain, see? See?"

That's the last glimpse she catches before Tango slips inside the cave and Cleo blocks the whole behind him with rough cobble. There's no time for panting or even high-fives. As one unit, they turn and start mining their way through the dark. Cleo fills the path behind them and Tango digs down.

🖤 💛 ❤️

Grian - Enderman

Quarry: Smajor1995

Hunter: Smallishbeans

Allegiance: Jungle Duo

The lush cave's huge and multi-leveled. All the tunnels are damp and tangled (and smell like warm salt and rotting squid flesh), but Grian's determination never falters. Nope, nope, nope- not even once. This is his server now, and even the underground bows its neck to see its admin. He strides down every passage with his sword bouncing at his hip. The torch broils against his skin. It even leaves his gums dry through his cheek. Tsk…

At one point, he passes a tiny cave with nothing but a red-sheeted bed. No one's asleep beneath the sheets, though they're kicked to the side like they've been used. A moment's digging reveals no hidden chests in the walls or floor, so Grian kicks the bed until it pops into its dollhouse-sized duplicate, then pockets it in his inventory. Might as well. He moves on again. No way is he setting spawn down here considering where he's got his respawn flag at the moment. That would ruin everything. He'll sleep on the dang floor if he has to.

The sound of trickling water is ever-present down here, made worse by the rain up above ground. Grian uses that as a guideline, sinking deeper into the caves. BigB's still wrapped in blaze traits right now, and since he went to bed - Sweet dreams! - he's definitely outside the Nether. Apparently Tango and Pearl had their portal somewhere down here, and BigB's blaze instinct would be to escape the water…

Aha.

[Cnt'd on AO3 - Link at top]

[ihartu5ever]

Will Wood and The Stylish Lillies

So, a couple nights ago I had a dream. I was at a concert, the lights were flashing reds and pinks, on the stage was a pole for dancing, the background was decorated with a large banner that read “The Stylish Lillies”. There were approximately 4 men on stage, 3 in the back playing instruments, and 1 who was holding a microphone and walking towards the pole, then he climbed it and started pole dancing. WILL WOOD, DRESSED IN A BRIGHT RED SPARKLY SEQUINCE BODY SUIT, RED PLATFORM HIGH HEELS, AND WEARING THE MAKEUP FROM SELF-iSH, POLE DANCING WHILE SINGING AGRESSIVELY AT THE TOP OF HIS LUNGS.

[cherrycola27]

Star Spangled Seresin

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption. Political situations. Unrequited love, one night stand, military and political inaccuracies. Smut. 18+ Minors DNI. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

Masterlist Next Part

...........................................

Prologue: A Debate to Remember

"Okay, Jake, I need you to remember that a vice presidential debate is just as important as a presidential debate." Ms. Wiseman, the Bradshaw-Seresin campaign manager, told him.

"I know, Wise-woman, I've got this. Don't worry." He tells her as he shoots her a thousand watt grin. "How many times have I told you to stop calling me that ridiculous nickname." She huffs.

Jake laughs before leaving the green room and finding his place. He was more than ready for this debate. He and Bradley were ahead in the poles with the election just around the corner. He rolled his shoulders back as he mentally prepared himself to wipe the floor with the competition.

A production assistant escorted him to his place. He squared his stance at the podium as the welcome music played, and the lights went up.

Jake was confident. He knew he had this in the bag. Nothing was going to throw him off his game.

Well, at least that's what he thought before she walked out. Jake's breath caught in his throat as she strolled onto the stage.

She was beautiful, with olive skin and chestnut colored hair. The black dress she was wearing was modest but fit her like a glove. Her legs were elongated by the black pumps that she wore, and when her eyes met Jake's, he swears his heart skipped a beat.

His mind went blank. How the hell was he supposed to be on his best game when the most beautiful woman in the world would be sitting ten feet in front of him.

He snapped back to reality as she grabbed the microphone and spoke.

"Good evening, everyone, and welcome to the final vice president debate of the 2024 election. On stage tonight, we have Mr. Gregory Evans, Mr. Thomas Howard, and Mr. Jacob Seresin. My name is Jaycee Marchetti, lead political reporter for the Washington Post, and I'll be your moderator for this deabte." She spoke strongly, but not forcefully. Her voice was smooth like silk and Jake knew instantly that he was fucked.

"Gentleman, the debate will run for approximately two hours, you will be given a maximum of two minutes and thirty seconds to answer each question. If you exceed the time limit, I will buzz you before cutting off your microphone." Jaycee explained the parameters. "Shall we begin?" She asked just before grabbing the first question.

............

"Hangman! You crushed it out there!" Bradley clapped him on the back as he came backstage.

"Thanks, man. I'm glad that's over. Listen, if we're all good here, I need a drink." Jake said, and he raked his hands over his face. God, he couldn't get the image of Jaycee out of his head.

After clearing it with his security team, Jake managed to slip away to a private bar. Well, it was more like a speakeasy if he was being honest. You had to know someone to get in, the security was top notch, which made it the perfect place for the D.C. elite to slip off for a drink.

He had just walked in when he spotted a familiar brunette sitting alone at the bar.

"Excuse ma'am, is this seat taken?" Jake asked as he gestured to the stool beside her. Jaycee looked up from her glass of wine and smiled. "For you, Mr. Seresin, never."

Jake sat down next to her and ordered himself a glass of scotch. "Your oral performance at the debate was amazing, Mr. Seresin. You were do well spoken." Jaycee complemented him. "Mr. Seresin is my father, please, call me Jake." He insisted. "And I'm amazed at how well I did. Considering how distracted I was during it." Jake continued.

"And why were you distracted—Jake?" Jaycee asks as she leans closer to him. "You try standing across from the most beautiful woman in D.C. and see how focused you are." Jake replied as he took a sip of his drink. "You flatter me, Jake." Jaycee said as she gave his chest a gentle push.

"It's not flattery if it's true." Jake replied before putting one foot on the bar of Jaycee's stool and sliding her closer to him until her knees were wedge between his legs.

"I'm celebrating my victory in the debate tonight, care to take a shot with me, Ms. Marchett?" Jake ask her. "I suppose one wouldn't hurt." She replies innocently. "Whiskey?" Jake asks. "My favorite." Jaycee replies.

Soon, the shot of whiskey turns into two, followed by a beer. All the while, Jake and Jaycee are flirting with each other. By the time the last call rolls around, one question hangs on the tip of Jake's tongue. He settles both of their tabs with the bartender before placing one of his large hands on her thighs and leaning in. "If you thought I gave a good oral performance at the debate, you should let me take you back to my place so I can really show off my skills." Jaycee grabs his hand before hauling him out to find a cab.

...................

The couple crashed through the door of Jake's apartment as soon as he'd unlocked it. Barely breaking apart long enough for him to do so.

The two were in a tangle of lips and limbs.

As soon as the door shut, Jake pressed Jaycee against it, wrapping her legs around his waist as he ground against her.

She shoved off his suit jacket and quickly undid his tie before working as the buttons of his dress shirt. Jake peeled her away from the door long enough to slip out of his shoes and carry her to his bedroom.

Once there, he stripped out of his shirt and under shirt before dropping to the floor to undo the straps of her shoes.

Jaycee took the opportunity to peel her dress over her head and fling it across the room. She was grateful she'd decided to wear a cute lace set under her dress tonight.

Once her shoes were out of the way, Jake grabbed her leg and began trailing kisses from her ankle to her inner thigh before switching sides. Jaycee leaned back on her hands and watched him as Jake took in the site before him.

She looked beautiful in his bed.

"Can I?" He asked as his fingers hooked around the waistband of her panties. Jaycee nodded. Jake pulled the black lace off her before bringing them to his nose and inhaling. "You smell amazing, I bet you taste even better." He groaned before licking a stripe up her slit.

Jaycee's hips jumped off the bed. Jake growled before hooking his arms under her thighs and pulling her flush against him.

He started out harsh and fast, eating her like she was the finest meal on earth. His tongue swiped circles and figure eights around her clit before fucking into her weeping hole. Jaycee laced her fingers in his sandy blonde locks and pulled him closer to her.

She ground her core against his face, and Jake moaned in appreciation as she tugged on his locks.

He slipped two of his thick fingers inside her dripping cunt and curled them to find her gspot. Once he zeroed in on it, he stroked it over and over again, enjoying the cries of his name that left her lips each time he did so.

"Fuck, Jake! That feels so good!" Jaycce cried out as she chased her high. It had been ages since a man had taken care of her like this.

"You're squeezing my fingers so good, darlin, I can tell you're close. Be a good girl and cum for me." Jake demanded as he sped up his fingers and tongue.

Jaycee cried out his name as he assaulted her bundle of nerves. Jake alternated between sucking on in and circling it. He gave it a particularly harsh suck, and Jaycee was screaming out his name. She came hard on his face, and Jake worked her through it, only stopping when she pulled him away from over stimulation.

Jake shimmied out of his pants and underwear before joining Jaycee on his bed.

She pulled him in for a bruising kiss before pushing him on his back. She stroked his hard length a few times. "Shit, baby, that feels so good. Hold on, let me get a condom." Jake said as he fumbled with his nightstand. He quickly took out the foil and handed it to her. Jaycee carefully opened it and rolled it down his length.

She straddled him before slowly sinking down him. She let out an appreciative moan over how full she was, taking a few moments to savor that burning stretch before slowly rising up and dropping back down on him.

Jaycee quickly picked up her pace, placing her hands on Jake's torso for leverage. Jake's hands grabbed a fistful of each of her ass cheeks and brought her closer to him as he rolled his hips into her.

He gave her ass harsh smack as she rode him. "Fuck baby, you ride better than half the cowgirls in Texas." Jake drawled out. Jaycee moaned back a reply as his stiffness hit a particularly deep spot that had her seeing stars.

"If you can help run a country, half as good as you fuck, I might be convinced to vote for you." Jaycee gasped. At the omission Jake stopped her. Jaycee whined.

He flipped them over so she was under him. He grasped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "You don't know who you're going to vote for yet?" He asks, clicking his tongue. Jaycee shakes her head.

"Well, I guess I'll just have to give you a good reason to vote for me then." He says before pistoning his hips into her.

Jaycee clings to his biceps, her nails digging in as Jake pushes her to a finish.

He drops his thumb to her clit and rapidly strokes it. The pleasure overwhelms her, and Jaycee's orgasm rips through her body. Jake follows behind her, spilling into the condom.

He collapses beside her and catches his breath before heading to the bathroom and returning with a warm washcloth to clean her up. He grabs a shirt from his drawer and hands it to her. She looks at him confused.

"I figured you'd want something to sleep in because there is no way in hell I'm kicking you out."

....................

Jaycee quietly unlocked her door and crept in. She definitely didn't want to wake her her roommate up. She was not ready for the five thousand questions she knew that she would ask.

"Good morning, skank." Y/N said as Jaycee stepped in the kitchen.

"Girl! What the fuck!?" She exclaimed while Y/N sat at their kitchen island and sipped her coffee.

"It's 7:30 on a Saturday morning. What are you doing up so early?" Jaycee asks her. "It's 7:30 on a Saturday morning. Why are you just now getting home?" She fires back.

"How do you know I just got home?" Jaycee counters.

"Your hair is in a bun, you're wearing last night's dress, you are carrying your shoes, and you smell like cedar scented soap." Y/N states. "So, you want to tell me where you were?"

"I, um— I went home with a guy last night." Jaycee confesses.

"Why didn't you tell me? I was worried sick about you. It takes ten seconds to send a text. I was afraid something had happened! I was about to call the police!" Y/N rants. Jaycee crosses the space to hug her friend.

"I'm fine, Wise-crack. I promise, I don't need you fussing over me like a mother hen." Jaycee assures her. "You know I worry about you. After what happened— I can't talk almost losing you again." she fights back tears.

"It's been five years. Everything is okay, babe, nothing bad is going to happen. Jaycee tells her best friend.

"I know. I just can't help it. But you promised me you're okay?" Y/N asks just to be sure.

"More than okay. Now, let me get a cup of coffee and tell you all about my night. Girl, this guy had mad tricks with his tongue." Both women laugh before Jaycee recounts her escapades.

.......................

Six months later, Jaycee is in the White House. Her best friend is the Chief of Staff, and the two of them had just prevented a major scandal. Some psycho ex-employee claimed she had an affair with President Bradshaw and was pregnant by him. Y/N, being the girlboss that she was, had the woman followed and promptly destroyed any ounce of credibility that she had.

Jaycee had worked to keep the news out of the Post and had several positive articles about the president ready to go.

She and Wise-woman were currently raiding the White House kitchen for snacks and wine. They were going to have a victory sleepover and needed provisions.

Jaycee was on edge as she walked through the halls of the White House. Her one night stand from months ago was now the vice president, and she'd never told Y/N, claiming she couldn't remember his name.

She'd even gone as far as to ghost Jake Seresin after their hookup. Jaycee was sure that he'd forgotten about her and had moved on to some other socialite.

The two of them had just left the kitchen with piles of junk food when she heard a familiar voice cry out. "Wise-woman, wait up!"

Jaycee froze. Y/N turned around, while Jaycee didn't dare move. Shit, this couldn't be happening, she thought.

"Jake, before we head out, let me introduce you to my best friend. She works for the Washington Post, you might remember her from the last VP debate." Y/N says warmly.

Jaycee turns around. Jake's face lights up when he sees her. The woman who has haunted his dreams for the past six months eas standing right in front of him.

"Hello, Mr. Vice President. Jaycee Marchetti. It's nice to officially meet you." Jaycee extends her hand for him to shake. "It's lovely to see you again, Ms. Marchetti." Jake draws out as his eyes rake over her body.

"Again?" Jaycee feigns as she cocks her head to the side. "Oh, you mean how we met at the debate. Which I guess we didn't officially meet then, did we? I just asked you some questions." Jaycee laughs. "Um, yeah." Jake replies.

"Well, like I said, it's nice to officially meet you—for the first time." Jaycee reiterates. Hurt flashes across Jake's face. So, this is how it was going to be.

"Well, I'll let you ladies get back to your fun. Have a nice night." Jake says deflated.

The two women continue down the hall as Jake heads for his room.

Jaycee had pretended they'd never met before and that he didn't know her in the most intimate way. That she hadn't cried out his name over and over from his bed that night so long ago.

If he had to guess, Wise-woman didn't know that the two of them had hooked up. Jake planned to keep it that way for now. However, he wasn't going to let Jaycee Marchetti slip through his fingers again.

Babes! It's here! I hope you enjoy!

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