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stahlop · 3 years ago

Text

The Night We Met

Summary:

Ever since Emma and Neal started dating, his roommate, Killian, has always been a jerk. But now that Emma and Neal have broken up, will she see Killian in a different light? Especially when she finds out the truth about why he's always hated her?

Rated M

Also on A03

Happy belated birthday @mariakov81! I have finally finished your birthday fic. I hope you enjoy this college/enemies to lovers/miscommunication au.

Thank you @ultraluckycatnd for being my beta on this one.

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“Ruby, I’m tired, I really don’t want to go to this party,” Emma whined as Ruby walked through her door.

“Too bad,” Ruby trilled at her. “You promised. You’ve been working like a dog. And besides, maybe you’ll get yourself laid tonight.” She smiled her wolfish grin at her.

“Ruby, I don’t need to get laid. I’m perfectly fine!” Emma huffed and settled herself back down into the couch cushions.

“Emma,” Ruby said, sitting next to her on their overly plush couch. She threw back her red tinged, brown locks, and grabbed Emma’s hands from where she’d had her arms crossed over her chest in indignation. “You have not been with anyone since you and Neal broke up. Not even a one-night stand or a rebound to get over him. I know he hurt you..”

“He fucking cheated on me for half of our three year relationship, Ruby!” Emma said, pulling her hands back and willing the tears that pricked her eyes not to fall. She wasn’t going to get upset about fucking Neal again. “Thank goodness I always insisted on condoms even though I was on birth control. Who knows what kinds of diseases he could’ve picked up.” The memory of finding Neal with another woman in their bed was seared into her memory. The fact that he’d apparently been cheating on her with multiple women over the course of their relationship made her feel like the biggest failure on the planet. But Emma always got left, always, so she really shouldn’t have been too surprised.

“I know what you’re thinking, Emma Swan, and it’s not true. You did not deserve this.” Emma raised her eyes to look at her roommate. How the hell could she always read her mind? “I know you,” Ruby said as if she had, in fact, read her mind. “I’ve known you since we were 15 and Granny took you in off the streets, fed you, and never let you leave.” Emma smiled at the memory. As a 15-year-old foster kid runaway, Emma had tried to take some food from Ruby’s grandmother’s diner dumpsters, but had been caught by Granny herself. Emma had thought she would call the cops on her, as had been her experience, but instead, she called 15-year-old Ruby down from the apartment over the diner and together, they had made what Emma had constituted as a feast (really just grilled cheese, steamed broccoli, onion rings, a hot chocolate with whipped cream, and a piece of cherry pie for dessert). Emma had made to leave as they’d done their good deed for the day, but they insisted on Emma staying in their spare room (and with a stern warning from Granny that if anything were missing in the morning, she would hunt her down). And somehow, Emma had fought the urge to run, and eventually, Granny ended up getting permission to foster her, and she had never left. Now she and Ruby were finishing up their senior year of college and Emma did not need her foster sister to try and convince her to go to some end of the year college house party.

“Look, Neal was a raging douche. I’m just sorry he had to break your heart for you to see it. But it’s been six months, Emma. It’s time to end the wallowing and come out!” Ruby gave her a stern look and Emma knew she was done for. She could never say no to that look, and Ruby knew it.

“Fine!” Emma practically bolted off the couch. “But don’t expect me to have any fun,” she warned as she headed off to her bedroom to change.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Ruby said, waving her hand behind her as she went through the door of her own room.

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Emma sighed a breath of relief as she sat down in the recently vacated spot on the couch. There was a couple making out on the other end of the couch, but as long as they didn’t invade her space, she wasn’t too worried about them. She’d been making the rounds with Ruby for the past hour and the heels that she’d picked out to wear were not being kind to her feet whatsoever.

She had just grabbed her phone out of her wristlet, flicked her blonde hair back behind her, and was just about to check the time when she heard his voice.

“Fancy seeing you here, Swan.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she knew more would be coming. “This doesn’t really seem like your scene,” the heavily accented, British voice continued on.

“And what exactly is my scene, Jones?” Emma didn’t even look up from her phone, just opened it up and started to scroll through Instagram so that she didn’t have to actually speak to him. She groaned when she felt the couch dip next to her. She glanced past him to where the couple had been making out just seconds ago, but it seemed as if they’d decided to take their activities to someplace more private.

“Aren’t you usually at bars or at Neal’s place?” Emma wasn’t sure if he was asking a genuine question, or if he just didn’t have a good zinger for her (which was pretty much his thing). But it was obvious from his answer that he didn’t know some important information.

“Neal and I broke up,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant and not like her heart was still breaking six months later. It wasn’t even Neal she was upset about, it was the being lied to and cheated on part that still got her upset. That she had put her heart out there and Neal had essentially stomped all over it, making her feel like that lost girl all over again. She looked over at him expecting to see an ‘I told you so’ smirk on his face, but instead, he looked rather upset.

“I’m sorry, Swan,” he said, a solemn expression washing over his face. “I truly am. I know how happy you two were.” Emma almost burst out laughing.

“Are you mocking me, Killian?” She wasn’t angry, just confused. “Because I seem to recall you not liking me at all when Neal and I were dating. Considering you were his roommate for most of the time we were together, I rarely ever saw you. And when I did you showed your disdain toward me pretty flagrantly.” Great. Now she was all riled up again. The last thing she needed tonight was to get into an argument with Killian Jones who had been the bane of her existence when she and Neal were together.

The expression on his face morphed from concern to pure anger after her little outburst. “I don’t even know why I try with you, Swan.” He pushed himself up off the couch and started to walk off before he stopped sharply, turned around, and came back over to her.

“I don’t know what I ever did for you to be so combative towards me, but now that you're not with Neal I don’t have to put up with it anymore. Go screw yourself!” Emma watched in shock as he stalked away from her and started up the stairs. The few people who were in the room with her all had looks of disbelief on their faces at the scene that had just transpired. Emma felt her whole body start to flush in embarrassment before she realized that she hadn’t done anything wrong.

Who the fuck does he think he is? she thought, her embarrassment now turning to anger. She and Killian had always had an antagonistic relationship. They had never gotten along. Well, technically, that wasn’t true. She’d actually met him before Neal as they’d had a class together sophomore year, but they’d only made small talk at that point. They’d flirted a bit and she’d thought he’d been interested, but then Neal had asked her out instead and Killian had made it clear that not only had he not been interested (what with the girlfriend Neal told her he had), but that he really didn’t like her at all. Every time she’d go over to their apartment, no matter what she said, he retorted back with some kind of insult or sarcastic comment. It had almost been a relief when he’d moved out a year and a half into her and Neal’s relationship.

“You try with me?” she asked incredulously, running after him up the stairs and trying not to knock over any of the, most likely, drunk people who were congregating there. Killian turned around toward her, his blue eyes flashing angrily at her. He looked like he was going to say something back to her, but then his whole body deflated with a resigned sigh that said ‘Great, I guess we’re doing this.’ And before Emma could even comprehend what was happening, he’d grabbed her arm and pulled her into an empty bedroom right off the stairs, locking the door behind them.

“Did you know?” she asked before he could get a word in.

“Know what, Swan?” Killian asked as if this whole thing was an inconvenience for him, even though he was the one who dragged her into the room.

Emma let out an exasperated sigh. “That Neal was cheating on me?” Killian’s eyes went wide for a split second before he tried to cover it up with a look of disbelief, but that was enough for Emma to see that, yes, he indeed knew that Neal had been cheating on her.

“Wow,” Emma said, trying to blink back the tears that had started pricking her eyes, all the fight leaving her body. “I knew you hated me, but I never expected you to sit idly by while Neal cheated on me.” She sank down on the bed and proceeded to use the heel of her hand to try and stop the tears from actually falling. She glanced a look at Killian, expecting to see him gloating or a mirthful smile gracing his lips, but instead, he looked absolutely crestfallen.

“I had my suspicions,” he began, running his hands through his hair, making it stand straight up and yet still making him look devilishly handsome, not that Emma was noticing. Nope. She was too upset to notice how Killian looked. “I confronted Neal about it and he told me to mind my own business. That’s why I moved out. I may be a bit of a scoundrel, Swan, but it’s bad form to cheat.” He made a move to sit down next to her on the bed, pausing to silently ask permission before she nodded yes and the bed dipped next to her.

“Why didn’t you tell me you even suspected?” Emma asked. She was staring at the god awful bedspread they were sitting on. It looked like it was denim with rhinestones all over it. How could that be comfortable to sleep on? She felt the bed shake and saw Killian scratching behind his ear, a nervous tell she’d noticed over the years. She wondered why he was nervous talking to her right now.

“Honestly, Swan, I figured you wouldn’t believe me. I mean,” he paused for a moment as if he were going to reveal some big unspoken truth between them, “you did choose him over me. I didn’t want to come off as jealous and petty.” She nodded as if that made sense, but then realized it made no sense.

Jealous and petty?

Chose Neal over him?

“What the hell are you talking about, Killian?” The sadness that she’d been feeling was replaced by utter confusion.

Killian took a deep breath as if he couldn’t believe they were going to discuss this. “Look, I know you always felt a bit uncomfortable about me being Neal’s roommate, since you rejected me so grandly. I guess that’s why I was always so sarcastic toward you -”

“No, seriously, Killian,” she said, cutting him off, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. When did I reject you?” She’d turned to face him now. She was sure her face had the most puzzled expression on it since this conversation had taken a turn. Killian’s eyes searched hers as if looking for the prank she was playing on him, but when he couldn’t, he continued talking.

“That night in the bar. You rejected me and chose Neal,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I know I keep saying this, Jones, but what the hell are you talking about? I never even spoke to you the night Neal and I got together in the bar. How could I have rejected you?” God, had she drank more than she thought that this whole conversation with Killian made no sense whatsoever? Killian let out a huff of frustration.

“I was perfectly happy never to bring this up, since you never did, but I guess we’re finally going to have this out. That night. At the bar. I thought we were flirting. It seemed like we were flirting.”

They had been flirting. She’d been waiting for her friends at a table by herself when she’d noticed Killian Jones from her biology class sitting with Neal at a table across the room. They’d practically been eye fucking each other from their perspective tables when Neal had walked over to her table and surprised her by asking her out instead.

“You had a girlfriend!” Emma said, accusingly. And now she was back to being angry. She jumped up from the bed, intent on leaving the room. Why the hell did he feel the need to rehash all this from three years ago? She’d felt humiliated when Neal had told her Killian had a girlfriend. She must have completely imagined the flirting that she thought he’d been reciprocating.

“What are you going on about, Swan?” he asked. Apparently it was Killian’s turn to be confused. He was wearing the most perplexed look on his face that Emma had ever seen.

“Your girlfriend, Mia, or Mina, or whatever. You were dating her when Neal and I started seeing each other, so you couldn’t have been flirting with me!” Emma was exhausted from this whole exchange. She knew she shouldn’t have let Ruby convince her to come out tonight. And here she was only, she checked the digital alarm clock sitting on the nightstand, one hour into the party and she was already fighting with Jones. And she wasn’t even sure what they were fighting about this time. Just that she felt like she was reliving one of the more embarrassing interactions she’d had with him.

Killian sat there looking shell shocked. “Milah?” he asked incredulously. Emma shrugged. “Neal’s cousin? I never dated her. I met her at a party, once. The party you came to as Neal’s girlfriend for the first time. Whatever gave you the idea I was dating her?”

Emma furrowed her brow, trying to recall that night three years ago. “Neal told me you were,” she said slowly. Killian scrunched his face in a look of confusion. He headed back over to the bed and sat down. He looked like he was thinking about something and Emma started to feel like an intruder in the room. She was about to suggest she head back to the party when he patted the spot next to him.

“Come sit, Swan. I feel like we need to clear the air about a few things.” The solemn look on his face was enough for Emma to follow his instructions. After she’d settled herself on a patch of the bedspread that did not contain rhinestones trying to puncture her through her jeans, Killian began to speak. “Let me see if I have the order of events correct from that night in the bar. You and I were flirting.” Emma attempted to interrupt him by reminding him that she was flirting, but she’d obviously misinterpreted his intentions, but he put his pointer finger to her lips to stop her. “Sh Sh Shush. It’s storytime,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“So, you and I were flirting, or, at least, I was flirting. I was flirting with you in our bio class at school and I couldn’t believe my luck that you were sitting there at that all ages college bar flirting with me. But, I wasn’t as confident back then, so when Neal offered to be my wingman and kind of feel you out about your feelings for me, I jumped on the opportunity. I sat there watching the conversation from my table. I watched you smile at him and then look over at me and my heart practically soared out of my chest that you might be agreeing to pursue something with me. And then your face fell and you looked over at me again, but this time with a little more scorn in it, and then you and Neal just kept talking and talking, and the longer I sat there the more I felt like the biggest fool just sitting there. I could tell your affections had shifted. And then Neal came back over to me after you’d finished talking and told me how you’d really been flirting with him and that you’d agreed to go on a date with him, and better luck next time.” Killian hadn’t looked at her throughout the entire part of his story, probably afraid to see her reaction to it. Probably afraid that she would be mocking him in some way since that’s what their relationship had been since she’d been with Neal, and now she understood why.

“But, that’s not what happened,” Emma said with an anguished cry. Killian’s face snapped up toward hers so fast she thought he might have hurt something. “I was flirting with you. I’d been crushing on you so hard. And then you were in the bar. I wanted to come over and talk with you, but I didn’t want to lose the table I was saving for my friends. When Neal came over, I thought maybe you’d sent him instead. But then he told me that you hadn’t been flirting, that I must have misinterpreted. That you had been with your girlfriend, Milah, for a while now, and could I possibly consider getting to know him and go out on a date with him instead. And I felt like the biggest fool,” she said repeating his words back to him, “but Neal was cute and nice and I thought, why not. And then he brought me to that party and Milah was all over you and that just confirmed to me that everything I thought had been happening between us was just in my head, so I agreed to be Neal’s girlfriend that night.” A thought struck her and she gasped.

“That’s why you’ve been so mean to me? You thought I rejected you for Neal?” She felt horrible now, knowing the truth.

“Aye,” he said, scratching that area behind his ear again. “I admit, I didn’t deal with my feelings about being rejected that well. And the fact that you never said anything about it perturbed me too.”

“He played us both. He was supposed to be your friend and instead he screwed you for a girl.” Emma had thought she’d been pissed at Neal when she’d discovered he’d been cheating, but now she was angrier than she’d ever thought she could be. Neal was the worst of the worst. And to top it all off, he had stopped whatever could have potentially happened between her and Killian from happening.

“It was part of why I moved out. Besides suspecting him of cheating on the most glorious woman I’d ever laid eyes on, I just couldn’t see you two together anymore. It hurt too much.” He gave a shy smile which looked odd on his ruggish face.

“Ugh! Neal is the biggest asshole ever. What the hell did I ever see in him?” Emma asked.

“You see what you want to see when you’re in love,” Killian answered. Emma bit her lip, replaying everything she’d just learned. The last three years had been built on a lie. Neal was the biggest asshole to the tenth degree and Killian was sitting here looking at her as if she hung the moon.

Killian was looking like a man in love.

Emma had thought he was cute back in their freshman year when he’d still had lanky limbs that didn’t seem to fit his body and could barely grow facial hair. And now here he was sitting in front her, his body lean and muscular, beautiful scruff covering the lower half of his face, and a thatch of chest hair sitting exposed from where he’d unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt (something she always had complained to Neal about when she thought she hated him, but she’d really always wanted to run her fingers through it). She looked up into his eyes and noticed that they were practically black. Only a sliver of blue iris ringed the outside of the pupil. Emma could feel her heart starting to pound in her chest. She’d hated him until only mere minutes ago, hadn’t she? Until the revelation of Neal’s manipulation had come to light. Or had she simply been masking her feelings by engaging in his hateful banter? It only took a split second for her to decide what to do.

She grabbed him by the lapels of his shirt and hauled his lips to hers. If Killian seemed surprised by this turn of events, he didn’t show it all, as he immediately started kissing her back. His scruff on her chin felt delightful, his lips were soft on hers, and his hand had threaded its way into her hair and the slight pull felt amazing. She ran her hands through his hair and reveled at how soft it felt. She broke the kiss for a moment to get some air, their foreheads resting against each other, both of them panting.

“That was…” he began.

“Long overdue,” Emma finished before she went in for another kiss. But Killian stopped her before her lips could reach his. Her heart was pounding in her ears, but for a totally different reason than it was before. She couldn’t have possibly misread the situation again.

“You don’t want me anymore,” she stated softly, pulling away from him before she could embarrass herself any further. But he wouldn’t let her out of his grip.

“On the contrary, I want you very much.” Emma bit her lip and couldn’t stop the smile that overcame her lips. “I just…” he huffed, most likely trying to find the right words to say what he wanted without offending her. “We’ve spent the last three years believing we hated each other, and I just want to make sure this isn’t a one time thing, because I never hated you, Emma.” The sound of her name, and not Swan, did things to her that she never knew just a voice could do. She gently cupped his face in her hand and gave a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“Killian, I fully intend for this to be more than a one time thing. So please, just kiss me again?” And with that, he surged forward and gave in to her request.

This kiss was nothing like the last one. This one was full of want, passion, and love (yes, love; Emma may have still loathed him earlier tonight, but she would be the first to admit that there was a thin line between love and hate, and it had now been crossed).

Killian started peppering her jaw with kisses, finding a particular spot right before her ear which made her moan with pure lust. “Swan,” he growled into her ear, his breath making her whole body shiver, “you can’t even imagine how long I’ve wanted to hear you make those noises because of me.” He bit down on her ear lobe, soothing it with his tongue as she made another obscene noise that in all her time with Neal she’d never heard herself make. “Do you know what it does to a man when the object of his desire is getting off by someone else in the next room with thin walls? It was absolute torture.” He moved back down her jaw, kissing her lips again before moving to the other side.

“In all honesty, you mostly heard me faking it,” Emma laughed. She honestly never knew it could feel this good and they were only kissing.

Killian pulled away from the ear he’d been sucking on and faced her with a troubled look. “Please tell me my former prick of a roommate gave you some orgasms during your tenure together?” Emma almost laughed at the level of concern on his face, but she knew he was being serious so she held it in.

“I mean, he gave me some,” she shrugged. “But he was the only guy I’d ever been with, so I don’t really have a lot to compare him to.” Killian looked even more insulted at that statement.

“Swan,” Killian said, grabbing her hands. “You are a goddess and I’ll show you how you should be worshipped properly.” He punctuated this statement with another bruising kiss.

Emma sat slack jawed at his words. Never had anyone spoken to her like Killian did. Like she was worthy of being ‘worshipped’ as he’d put it. So she just nodded in agreement.

“Emma --”

“Killian --”

They both gave a small laugh having spoken at the same time.

“Emma, I just want you to know that no matter what happens tonight, I want to be whatever you want us to be. Whatever we become is as much up to you as it is to me.” So much more romantic than Neal’s ‘So I wanna if you wanna,’ Emma thought.

“Are you trying to make sure I’m okay with this, Killian? Because I am. I liked you back before Neal, and I thought I’d been wrong about you being this nice guy, but I still always had a thing for you, even when we were... mortal enemies.” More laughter emanated from them. “But I want this. I really want this.” She took her free hand and moved a piece of hair that was dangling over his eye away. “And I want to explore what could’ve been if He Who Shall Not Be Named hadn’t interfered for his own selfish reasons.” They both smiled at that. Emma could see his blue eyes twinkling. She thought he was going to kiss her again, but he let go of her hand and got up off the bed and motioned for her to do the same. Emma was confused until he began turning the bed down for them to get more comfortable.

“Oh, so now you’re a gentleman?” she asked jokingly.

“I’m always a gentleman,” he replied back. And then he grabbed her hand and pulled her in for a kiss. “But right now, I want to tear off this ridiculous comforter,” Killian ripped it off the bed revealing the normal looking sheets underneath, “so I can get you into that bed, tear off all your clothes, and hear you scream my name.” He growled into her ear as he tongued it. His voice went straight to her clit and she swore she might come from his voice alone.

Killian moved her hair off her shoulder as his lips began their assault on it. Emma had never been so glad she’d chosen the off-the-shoulder top she was wearing for the party that night. She started to unbutton her blouse to move things along, but Killian swatted her hands away.

“No, Swan. I will not have you ruining my fun by having you undress yourself. I intend to unwrap you myself. I’ve waited too long for this to be a quick fuck.” Emma shivered at his words. Never in a million years would she have thought Killian would have been a dirty talker. And she never realized that it would turn her on so much.

His scruff was scratching her neck in the best way as his lips went back to her neck. Her hands went to the thatch of hair peeking out from the top of his shirt and Emma decided that if she wasn’t allowed to unbutton her top, she could certainly start unbuttoning his. The chest hair was something she’d always wanted to run her fingers through. With every button she opened, more and more hair was revealed. She ran her fingers through it as Killian moved back to her mouth.

“Please, Killian,” she begged as she got to the last button on his shirt. He removed his arms from the sleeves while still keeping his lips on hers, although she could feel him smile as she begged. He continued to unbutton her blouse with his deft fingers and discarded her shirt onto the floor.

“Better?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow in the sexiest way she’d ever seen.

“Not even close,” she panted. The black, strapless lace bra she was wearing felt too constricting, and as much as Killian had wanted to ‘unwrap’ her himself, she reached behind her back to unhook the offending material. The eyebrow raised again as he stepped back to see what she had done, but then his eyes widened when he saw what was underneath her bra.

“You’re absolutely stunning, Emma,” Killian whispered in awe and before she could say anything back, he started kissing her again. This time, Emma pulled him down onto the bed with her. They found a comfortable position with her on her back and him between her thighs. His lips seemed to be everywhere: lips, jaw, neck, collarbone. He was kissing a path down to her breasts and she was rubbing her jeans against the large bulge she could feel through his.

“Someone is impatient,” he smirked into the top of her breast before his teeth clamped down over her nipple.

“Fuck, Killian!” she said as he immediately laved his tongue over the now peaked nipple. The smirk returned.

“All in good time.” He moved over to the other nipple and repeated the same movements with his teeth and tongue. Emma had never felt these feelings before. Neal had barely done any foreplay, and Emma, having not been that experienced, just figured that was normal. Now she was mentally berating herself for missing out on this the past few years. But she needed to stop thinking about Neal when she had Killian’s mouth heading south. His tongue dipped into her navel and Emma swore she was going to come before he even got her jeans off. She never knew someone’s tongue could feel that erotic on her skin.

“Is this okay?” Killian asked as his fingers came up to the button on her jeans. Emma could only nod, her mouth not seeming to work. He popped the button and Emma lifted up her ass so Killian could slide her jeans and underwear down (just plain cotton which she was highly regretting right now; at least she’d had the forethought to shave before the party). He continued to kiss down her body as her jeans slid off, leaving her completely nude. For the first time that night, Emma began to feel self conscious about the position she was in. She and Killian had hated each other up until an hour ago, was it really prudent of her to sleep with him already? Maybe they should slow things down. She was just about to voice this when his tongue made contact with her clit and all rational thought went out the window.

“Oh, God!” she screamed and her hands involuntarily went to his lucious, brown locks and pulled him even closer.

“Killian will do,” he said, smiling into her. “So wet for me, Swan.” He began licking her like a man possessed and Emma had never been this crazed from oral sex in her life. She was pretty much fucking his face and Killian seemed to be enjoying it. He sucked her clit between his lips and Emma knew she was so close. Killian took his pointer and middle fingers and slipped them into her wet heat, thrusting them back and forth until he finally found the spot that would make her come undone. “Come for me, Swan,” he growled in a commanding tone. He gave one final suck and her body exploded.

Emma knew she was mumbling nonsensical words as Killian continued to lick and pump his fingers more slowly now, bringing her down from her high. Never in all her life, not by her own hand or any other boy’s (because that’s what they all were, boys) had she ever had an orgasm so strong. Emma was vaguely aware that Killian was now kissing back up her body: a small nip to her hip, his tongue licking a stripe up the side of her stomach, his teeth grazing the side of her breast. His hand was still in between her legs easing her down from her intense orgasm.

“Oh my fucking God, Killian!” she panted out, her heart still beating frantically in her chest.

“Sounds like you enjoyed that.” He smirked. That smirk always used to annoy her, but now it was the sexiest thing Emma had ever seen. She grabbed Killian by the hair and crashed her lips onto his. She could taste her essence on his lips and it was intoxicating. Emma never thought she would be turned on by that. She was learning a lot about herself tonight. Like the fact that she was completely nude and Killian was still half dressed.

“Lose the pants, Killian.” She’d found her way to the tip of his pointed ear. Another thing she’d always found annoying about him and now she found hot as fuck.

“As the lady wishes.” He stood up and began to unbutton his pants as Emma started stroking his chest hair. He was wearing a pair of black boxer briefs underneath that did nothing to hide his erection and for the first time, Emma realized that all the sexual innuendos he’d dropped over the years were not because he was compensating for something. He could really back up everything.

“Fuck, Killian!” Emma breathed out as he pulled his boxer briefs down to meet his pants that were at his knees. Emma knelt down to pull them off the rest of the way, Killian watching her intensely, and found herself eye to ….cock. He was so much bigger than Neal, and it was nicer looking, what with the manscaping he’d obviously done. Neal had just been a hairy mess. But Killian, well, Emma never thought she’d describe a man’s penis as beautiful, but that’s what this was. She gently brushed her thumb over the tip, a hiss emanating from Killian’s lips as he sat back on the bed. She wrapped her small hand around it and looked up at him. “Is this okay?” She echoed back his words from before, and just as she had, he nodded, too much in awe that this was actually happening.

Emma pumped him up and down slowly, her thumb grazing the tip each time. His shaft was velvety smooth under her touch. She was gearing herself up to lick him; it was not something she had particularly enjoyed doing for Neal. Killian must have sensed her hesitation because the next thing she knew, he was hauling her up into his lap. She immediately became wetter the moment his cock rubbed against her already damp folds.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, love.” He brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear before kissing her again. “Besides, if you put your mouth on me, I’d probably finish there and I want to feel you around me.” Emma could feel her cheeks redden, but then started rubbing herself against him. The noise Killian made was probably the most amazing noise she’d ever heard and she doubled her efforts rubbing against him just to hear him make it again.

“One moment,” he said, maneuvering himself to grab his pants. He quickly pulled out his wallet and grabbed the foil-wrapped condom from inside, then deposited his wallet back in his pants before dropping them back on the floor. Emma was busy giving sloppy kisses along the column of his neck when she heard the foil rip, and she lifted up slightly so his cock stood in between them looking red and angry. Emma had never seen an erection look so hard. She plucked the condom from his hand and pulled it down herself (and honestly, she never thought putting a condom on could be so damn sexy).

“Ready, Swan?” he asked. Emma didn’t even give a verbal answer. She grabbed his cock, lifted herself over it, and slowly sank down on him, adjusting to his length and girth.

“Fuck!” she moaned when he was finally seated completely within her. Killian kissed her passionately, his tongue plunging into the depth of her mouth and tangling with hers. She tugged on his lower lip with her teeth, and she could swear she felt him get even harder inside her.

“You need to move, Swan,” he bit out. Emma lifted herself up, and slammed back down on him. God, she’d never felt so full in her life. She never wanted this feeling to end. She continued to fuck herself on him, her hands on his shoulders to lift herself up higher, his hands under her ass to do the same. She’d never fucked anyone like this before. Neal had always insisted on missionary style, which Emma was now realizing was probably the only way he could get off. This position felt fucking amazing and she was pissed at herself for never trying it before. But she needed something more.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she screamed as his hand moved from her ass to in between them and made contact with her clit. That was exactly what she needed. He continued to rub it as hard as he could. It was too much, yet not enough. She was almost there.

“Let go, Emma. I promise I’ll catch you.” And that was all it took. Emma lifted up off him completely and had the most fucking intense orgasm she’d ever had in her life. Even more powerful than the one he’d brought her to before. Everything seemed to go black and then next thing she knew, Killian had turned them over so she was on her back and he thrust himself back inside her.

Emma didn’t even get to contemplate how fast he’d changed their position when another orgasm rocked her due to the angle of his cock inside her and a well placed thumb on her already swollen clit. “Killian!” she screamed, her voice starting to feel hoarse from all the screaming she’d been doing. He rode her out until she finally felt him still and he grunted, emptying himself into the condom.

Killian collapsed on top of her. He was heavy, but Emma decided she didn’t really mind. She liked the way he felt. With Neal, she’d just wanted him off of her right away, mainly because he’d fall asleep almost instantaneously and then she’d be trapped beneath him. Almost as if he was reading her mind, Killian rolled off of her. Emma immediately missed the warmth of him, but he quickly took off the condom, wrapped it in some tissues from the box on the nightstand, and threw it away in the garbage can. Then he pulled her into him so their foreheads were touching, and Emma thought it was the sweetest thing anyone had done for her after sex. She kissed him, a short and sweet kiss, just to let him know that this wasn’t just sex. She hoped that it conveyed what she was too afraid to say. But then, she decided to say it anyway.

“Killian,” she began, “would you like to go out on a date...or something?” she mumbled, her confidence waning after she mentioned the word date.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you out?” Killian teased as a wide smile graced his handsome face. She blushed. After everything they’d just done and she blushed when he teased her. She had it bad. “Yes, Emma, I would be honored to go out with you. But please let me plan the date,” he said earnestly. How could she resist when he had the puppy dog face going. She kissed him in agreement.

“And now, love,” he said hesitantly, “I think you and I should get out of this bed, considering it doesn’t belong to either of us. And who knows how many other people have used this bed for this exact same purpose.” That made Emma jump up almost immediately. God, she hoped whoever's house this was they washed the sheets before they’d made the bed.

They quickly got their clothes back on (and Emma didn’t even want to think about the mess her hair probably was), and Emma pulled her phone from the back pocket of her jeans that had been discarded, noticing there were a few text messages from Ruby.

“Shit! Ruby’s been trying to get a hold of me. She wanted to leave half an hour ago.” She frantically started texting Ruby to tell her where she was, but Killian took the phone from her hand and deleted the text.

“Tell her you’ve gone home with someone and you’ll see her in the morning.” Emma looked at him quizzically.

“Am I going home with someone?” Killian’s cheeks went red all the way to the tips of his elfin ears and his hand went to the back of his neck.

“Only if the lady would like to.”

Emma debated making him even more nervous, but couldn’t contain herself. “The lady would like to, Killian,” she said, giving a small smile. He took her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing the knuckles and Emma thought she might melt on the spot. How could she have ever hated him? Oh right, her jerk ex. She quickly sent a text off to Ruby.

He unlocked the door and they stepped out into the, thankfully, empty hallway. They could still hear the party going on downstairs, and lots of moaning coming from the other rooms in the hall. They both gave each other slightly embarrassed grins.

“Come, love, let’s take this somewhere more private,” Killian said smugly; Emma nodded in agreement and they headed down the stairs… and ran smack into Neal.

He looked, if Emma was being honest, like crap. His hair was disheveled, and not in the way Killian’s was looking because of her pulling on it during sex, and there were bags under his eyes, like he hadn’t been sleeping.

“Emma!” Neal said, his face lighting up. “Boy, am I ever glad to see you.”

“Can’t say the feeling’s mutual,” Emma snapped. The euphoria she had just experienced with Killian was quickly fading into revulsion. She gave Killian’s fingers a quick squeeze so he knew she was not going to let Neal ruin their night. He gave her a squeeze back in understanding.

“Oh, come on Ems, don’t be like that,” he said, flashing that grin that always used to make her weak in the knees. Now it just made her want to vomit. What the hell did she ever see in him? Had she really been that desperate to be loved? Neal reached out to grab her hand and Emma could see the confusion when he realized one hand was occupied, and then the look of realization when he finally noticed Killian standing beside her.

“What the hell is this?” Neal asked angrily, like he had any reason to be angry. “You making a move on my girl, man? I thought we were friends!” Emma actually burst out laughing at that remark. Both Neal and Killian looked at her bewildered.

“First off, Neal,” she said, giving him a fierce push against his chest, her laughter giving way to irritation, “I’m no longer your girl. I haven’t been your girl in six months. And,” she gave him another push, “you were cheating on me for half of our relationship, so I really haven’t been your girl in a long time.”

“Ems, I can explain…”

“No, you can’t explain, Neal. And even if you could, I don’t want to hear it. And as for Killian being your friend,” she gave a glance to Killian and gave him a huge smile before returning her look toward Neal, “friends don’t steal the girl their other friend is interested in and then lie to both of them about it for years.” Another push. Neal’s face went practically white. “Yeah, we figured some things out tonight about the night we met.” She scowled at him to let him know that she meant business.

“I..” But Emma was done with this.

“I don’t want to hear it, Neal.” And with that, she walked past Neal, her hand in Killian’s to really make her point that she was no longer his.

“Your loss, mate,” Killian said with a smirk and gave a salute as Emma pulled him along. They ran out the front door into the cool spring air. When they made it to Killian’s car (a Chevelle that Emma remembered he rebuilt himself) they stopped to catch their breath. Emma could feel Killian’s eyes on her, silently watching her to see her reaction.

“Emma, I’d understand if we’ve moved too fast and you want to slow things down,” Killian said quickly. It’s as if he’s afraid that if he doesn’t say it fast enough, she’ll say something to end what has barely begun between them. Emma gets it. She walked over to him. He’s busily looking anywhere but at her, while scratching that spot behind his ear. It’s utterly adorable.

“Killian?” She’s standing directly in front of him and the surprise look on his face when he finally does look at her is priceless. “I don’t want this to be a one time thing. And I definitely don’t want to slow things down.” And with that declaration, she grabbed his face, pulled his lips to hers, and kissed him with everything she had in her. It took Killian a moment to catch up with her, his lips finally kissing hers back after a slight gasp of surprise into her mouth that made her smile, almost giggle even.

They finally separated and got into Killian’s car, both of them quietly contemplating, with anticipation, what the future held for them as they drove silently back to his apartment.

In the morning, Emma expected to feel the urge to run, to feel they moved too fast. But she doesn’t feel any of that. He pulled her in tight in his half asleep state, making her feel safe as she cuddled into his chest, and Emma wondered how she ever could have hated him the way she thought she did.

Tag List: (Let me know if you want to be added or removed)

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#happy birthday mariakov81 #csau #cs college au #cs au #past swanfire #enemies to lovers

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bladexjester · 2 years ago

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Henrietta Biggles

(This doesn’t really have anything to do with the rest of my blog, I just heard that there’s an actual plush you can buy of this character now and I wanted to show off the one my Granny made for me when I was in my South Park Phase.)

#South Park #sp goth kids #henrietta biggle #South Park plush #sp merch #homemade plush #My granny is really good at plush making

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

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Secrets ~ 4

Warnings: noncon sexual acts later in series; spanking

This is dark!Bucky and dark!Steve and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A buried family secret comes to light thrusting you to the forefront of an old alliance.

Note: Okey dokey, in for a long day but enjoy this while I’m away.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

After hours of Barnes’ relentless criticism and the ridiculous strutting, you were allowed a break. The stress, the jet lag, the anger. It all mounted and left you exhausted. You were shown to your room; grand despite your own treatment. It certainly fit the title of Duchess but had you wondering why your bearing didn’t allot you an ounce of authority. By his own logic, you should be ordering Barnes around.

You collapsed into the plush bed. You didn’t have the energy to admire the canopy, or the fancy furniture, or sheer luxury of the room alone. You fell into a heavy sleep but it did not relieve the turmoil of your mind. Your dreams swirled with Barnes’ unyielding voice, your mother’s home, the roaring plane, the looming portraits of queens glaring down at you. There was no escape.

You woke with a start, the heavy, feather duvet torn from around you. You sat up and let out a pathetic squeak as your vision was still blurry from your heavy sleep. You shook your head and drew your legs up as you stared at the man who let the blanket slump across the bottom of your bed. He tilted his head as he looked back at you, as disapproving as always.

“Time to get up,” Barnes announced.

You hugged your legs and huffed. “Holy shit, dude. You could’ve just set an alarm.”

“Hmpf,” He hung his head as his hands went to his hips and he pursed his lips.

He stood straight, determined, and marched around the bed to you. He grabbed your arm and tugged you to the edge of the bed, your legs slipped down as you were turned to look at him. He framed your chin with his hand and forced you to look up at him.

“First, that language. If I hear another word today and I will fulfill yesterday’s promise.” He warned. “Second, we do not address anyone as ‘dude’. It’s not proper. Third, this is what you wear to bed?”

You felt along the loose grey tee blindly, the front half tucked into your granny panties, and blanched. You shrugged to cover your discomfort.

“What is proper? Walking like I have a stick up my ass and preening over pompous jerks like some desperate debutante.”

“Again, Duchess, you tempt me to wash out that filthy mouth,” He squeezed and drew you up to your feet. “I will allow that you are tired; still waking up. I will have patience for…” He raised his other arm and checked his watch. “The next twenty minutes as you ready. After, the rules stand. No swearing, no slouching…” He released you and stepped back. “And smile, your highness. You’re much more endearing then.”

He smirked and gave a bow. Almost sarcastic. You weren’t entirely sure how a bow could be sarcastic but he’d figured it out. You narrowed your eyes at him as he left and when the door closed, you sat on the bed heavily and swore under your breath. Better to get it out now and not tempt the drill sergeant hounding your every move.

👑

Barnes awaited you. You wouldn’t say eagerly, more impatiently. He guided you along the polished, shining hallways of the palace. You could feel his side eye, the silent measure of your step. You tried to walk as he had bid you. Tried to stand as straight as you could, feet close together, head high. You felt stupid.

He stopped before a pair of double doors and turned back to you.

“This is the queen’s toilette. Queen Alaine furnished the room back in 1742 and since it has been left mostly the same aside from a few necessary updates.” He explained. “It is where the prospective brides are to refine themselves before their weddings. Remember, duchess, you’re foremost concern is pleasing the king.”

“Is it?” You asked dryly.

He took a sharp breath and his brows drew together. He blinked slowly and reached to the handle of the right door.

“You should be concerned,” He said as he turned to open the door. “If you make him unhappy, there is nothing I can do beyond your wedding day to help.”

“Is that what you’re doing? Helping me?” You asked.

“Whether you realise it or not.” He replied and held the door for you.

You entered and were met by a round room of mirrors. Every angle of you was reflected back at you and you turned, each glance at the glass gifting a new insecurity. Barnes entered behind you and pulled shut the door, another mirror on its rear. He came up behind you and hooked his arm around you, drawing you to the centre of the room.

“I have made appointments for stylists to come and deal with…” He waved a hand towards your face. “All of this. For now, we will outfit your royal wardrobe. Fortunately, several designers have sent over racks as a favour to the throne.” You didn’t miss his eyes as they focused on your reflection. “So…’ He turned you and led you to one of the mirrors, he reached to press on it and it clicked outward. He drew it open and nudged your forward. “Go on and start.”

“What?” You stopped in the doorway to the attached room hidden behind the mirror. Racks of clothing hung in varying shades from pastel to jewel to the darkest hues hung from the hangers.

“We must go through each item to make certain they are suitable and set aside any that require proper fitting,” He advise. “I will await your first selection in the next room,” He gestured behind him. “So that we can get a good look at it.”

You frowned. The idea of wearing clothing you didn’t choose in front of a dozen mirrors and a man you could hardly stand was assuredly a living hell. He grinned and closed the door behind him as he disappeared through it. You stomped your foot. He treated you so much like a child, you were starting to act like one. Or maybe he was giving you a complex.

You went to the first rack. A powder blue dress with long sleeves was the first. It was very Jackie O. You took the hanger and sat on the cushioned bench. You didn’t change right away. You felt as if it was another strip of your independence being ripped away from you. Well, given the situation, how much did you really have left?

You stood and laid the dress out as you undressed. You pulled on the dress and found it fit quite snugly. It wasn’t as matronly as it looked on the hanger. The back was an open vee with a thin strap across the top, while the front allowed a sense of modesty while hugging your figure. You hated it already.

You hesitated as you neared the door. You took a moment to let out a stream of curses under your breath and made yourself open it. You stepped through, Barnes sat on a stool and looked up at you, his eyes discerning as they took in every inch of you. He reached to trace the line of his jaw as he thought. He glanced at the mirrors and dropped his hand.

“The cut is great, the colour, not so much,” He remarked. “Red would be nice. If we were to go with blue, it would have to be darker. Something akin to the king’s colours.”

You crossed your arms. “Is that a no? Because I don’t like it.”

He chuckled. “I’m not concerned if you like it, duchess, my worry is the king’s satisfaction. If I cannot get you to behave as a lady, you must at least look like one.”

You pouted and dropped your arms. Fuck the king, you thought. You wanted to say it so badly. He seemed amused by your internal struggle as he laughed again.

“Put it on the empty rack with the pink tag and try the next,” He shifted on the stool. “We don’t have all day.”

You stomped back through to the room and threw the door closed. You shed the dress and hung it as he told you. You took the next, a canary yellow you were very wary off. Shorter sleeves, flouncy skirt. It would be cute if it wasn’t so cockatiel.

You changed and re-entered the cell of mirrors. Barnes tilted his head one way then the other. He smiled.

“I like it. Turn.” He spun his finger and you stayed as you were. “Go on, duchess, show off.”

You glared at him.

He stood and neared you. His expression turned stern as he came close and grasped your shoulders. He turned you and you faced your reflection all around you. His eyes roved down the back of the dress before he drew close and was nearly flush against you as he gazed at the mirror ahead of you.

“This is much more you, wouldn’t you agree? Younger, carefree?” His hands ran down your arms. “And I think the king would like something a bit more… innocent.”

You blinked in disgust and wriggled away from him.

“He looking for some pure maiden?” You spun to face him. “I’m afraid there’s not many of those anymore.”

“Our king isn’t stupid,” Barnes countered. “He is aware of feminine wiles but you will not mention any of your past… indiscretions to him. It would be an insult to your union.”

“And what about his?” You challenged. “I’m not stupid either. I’ve seen the articles, the photos.”

“A prince is allowed his mistakes,” Barnes said. “There are kings who’ve done worse. I am certain that you could name a few yourself given your extensive knowledge on the matter.”

“So a queen must be an abstinent cyborg?” You hissed.

“A queen must be what he king wants her to be,” Barnes came closer. “We’ve yet to see what he wants of you but we’ll do our best to guess,” He leaned in so that you felt his breath. “That dress goes on the rack with the white tag.”

He backed away and returned to his perch on the bench. He sat and stared at you, he fluttered his fingers impatiently.

“Well, go on,” He bid. “Or did you require help?”

You sneered and turned on your heel. You swept back into the side room and slammed the door. You wriggled free of the yellow mess and hung it. You went to the racks and grimaced at the array of tulle, silk, and satin. You took the next, a mint dress with sharp shoulders. The colour didn’t exactly match the silhouette.

You sat and held the dress in your lap. You felt the fabric between your fingers and sighed. You didn’t want to spend the rest of your life like some doll to be dressed and played with. You didn’t want to wear these stupid overpriced dresses and you didn’t want to marry a stranger who to this point had a penchant for frat boy antics. You doubted that age had changed him that much.

You were shaken from your resentful and self-pitying trance by a knock at the door. You sat up as Barnes voice sounded from the other side. “I’m waiting.”

“Fuck off.” You snarled back as you tossed aside the dress and stood.

You grabbed your jeans from the other end of the bench and began to pull them on. The door opened before you had them past your knees and you were bowled over by a sudden force. Barnes shoved you so that you tripped, tangled in the denim, and caught yourself on the bench.

Before you could stand, his hand was on the small of your back. He held you down. His strength was frightening as he easily pinned you against the bench. You were stuck, prone in only your bra and panties as your jeans bunched at your ankles. You pushed on the edge of the seat and tried to force yourself up but couldn’t get the leverage.

“I told you about that language.” His other hand struck your ass and you cried out in surprise and rage.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You struggled against his grasp.

“What needs to be done.” He growled as he spanked you again. “You insist on being a brat so let me treat you like one.”

“Stop!” You hollered. “What the--”

He slapped your ass again and it stung so much you whimpered. You kicked you, your feet still trapped in your jeans and you reached to the floor.

“Ah! Get off! Get off!” You shouted.

“Watch,” Smack. “Your,” Smack, “Mouth.” Smack.

“I am telling you,” You grunted as you wriggled helplessly. “As your duchess-- to let me go!”

You expected another smack but it never came. His hand left your back and he stood straight. Your nerves fizzled as you slowly pushed yourself up and turned to sit on the bench. Your ass still buzzed from the unceremonious spanking. You folded your arms over your chest as you tried to cover yourself. He had no shame as he looked you up and down.

“That’s what you need, your highness,” He purred. “You need to start acting like a duchess.”

“Get out,” You snarled. “Now.”

His lips curved and his eyes drifted from your face. You squirmed and reached to the dress you’d left on the other end of the bench and pulled it over to cover yourself. You stood and clumsily stepped out of your jeans. You neared him as your humiliation boiled to anger.

“I said get out,” You hissed. “I am a duchess and I’ve given you an order.” You poked his chest, he didn’t flinch. “And I doubt your king would appreciate you leering at his future queen.”

He snickered, quietly. He raised his hands and turned his palms out defensively. He backed away from you and paused at the door. He bowed his head.

“Your highness,” He said. “Let us not repeat this. You can skip that one,” He nodded to the dress. “The rack with the red tag.”

He turned and strode through the door, a subtle click in his stead as you were left to stand hugging the horrible mint green monstrosity. You closed your eyes and waited for your heart to slow from its frantic beating.

You lowered the dress from your front and reached to touch your tender ass. The brush of your fingertips sent a shiver through you. How loyal was Barnes truly? To the king? To himself? You weren’t sure you wanted to find out.

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stutterfly · 5 years ago

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Snow, Don’t Tell (M) | PJM

Granny Park’s Gossip:

Jimin is the sweetest boy around, no comparison. Always ready to listen to my stories, visits me regularly and tells me all sorts of tales about those friends of his. Might as well adopt them all, I know so much about them! Jiminie’s the best grandson anyone could ask for, really, a little angel, and his little gang of friends is quite the hoot. He’s been a little quiet about himself lately, though. Kept going on and on about that neighbor of his, how cute she always looks and how he likes to help her with her groceries, but I think maybe I teased him just a little too much about that crush of his. Maybe he’ll figure out a way to get closer to her this holiday season, because who knows how much longer he’ll pine over the girl if he doesn’t.

❄ Word Count: 27.2k

❄ Pairing: Jimin x Reader

❄ Genre: Neighbors AU / Friends to Lovers / Fluff / Smut / Humor

❄ Rating: 18+ / Explicit

❄ CW and other tags: heavy sexual tension, grinding, groping, swearing, kissing, biting, hair pulling, fingering, masturbation, teasing, edging, hickeys/ bruising skin, oral sex (male and female receiving), praise kink, love kink, mentions of threesome, hinted foursome, penetrative sex, protected sex, pinching, pierced nips, tiddyfucking, dirty filthy talk, whiny Jimin, Jimin is a Snake spilling all the tea about his friends, angst, mentioned alcoholism, mentions of toxic parents, some negative self-talk which is quashed by the prince himself, feelings of self-consciousness, insecurities about education, basically a slowburn speedrun that’s wet and wild, second-hand embarrassment, exhibitionism/voyeurism, Jimin is everyone’s therapist, reader is a mess, jimin is a mess too The Snowball Effect Collab Masterlist This is the first fic the series/project The Snowball Effect. Please click the link above to see the summaries and genres for each fic! Also, while each of these fics can stand on their own, they all end up at the same place, occurring simultaneously. There are also little easter eggs and secrets for the other fics woven throughout each of these! For the biggest, fluffiest Snowball Effect experience, we highly recommend you read each of them! Do not repost.

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

‘Thank you’ is a powerful phrase. It can hold so much joy, affirmation, and even love. True gratitude is more than a word; it's a feeling. It's those unexpected, kind gestures when everything is falling apart: the small smile across the room to ease the tension, the jokes shared to lighten the load of a stressful existence, or the quarters spent drying a neighbor's laundry.

There's nothing quite like being appreciated, nothing quite like someone else being thoughtful for once, nothing quite like someone saying, "I know you didn't have to do it but you did, and I can't express what it means to me." Okay, so sometimes they don't say it, but it's strongly implied.

Around this time each year work grows incredibly stressful. Everyone is trying to push their work onto someone else's desk and leave the office in hopes of enjoying some time with family and friends. Taking off the last two weeks of the year seemed like a no-brainer. So why is it so hard to turn off the screen and actually do that?

Click. Click.

Another email answered, another client getting their response before the new year. Dark, tired eyes lazily drift across the computer screen, fluttering a moment until he catches his head leaning forwards and sits up straight with a shake of his head. How many more emails can there possibly be? Jimin stretches his arms towards the ceiling and slowly rolls onto his back, resting his head against the plush carpet of his living room. Aren't vacations supposed to be a time of relaxation and fun? Isn't he supposed to be able to turn on his out-of-office message, leave the post-it note on his monitor, and trust in his coworkers? A heavy sigh escapes him and a frustrated groan rumbles in his throat. "Why can't I just turn it off?"

Stifling a yawn, he pulls the phone from his pocket to check the time. Six fifteen. Why am I so tired already? Should I get some dinner?

He blinks a few times, feeling his eyelids grow heavier with each pass they make across his eyes. Still holding the phone, his hand slowly descends until the device is pressed flat onto his chest. He's teetering into a dream when the unmistakable jingle of keychains clattering against one another echoes in the hallway. His eyes immediately snap open, and he brings his phone up again. Oh shit. It's Thursday.

The device slips through his fingers and smacks against his forehead. As he rubs his temple to soothe the dull ache beginning to form, he ponders whether the phone is to blame or if work is the true culprit. Resting his head against the plush carpeting, he blankly stares at the ceiling and loses himself in quiet meditation, thoughtlessness consuming every second that passes. A small sound pokes through the barrier of silence, a muffled humming just barely passing through the wall beyond the couch.

Jimin lifts his head just enough to peer down his body, focusing just beyond the laptop at the wall separating his apartment from yours. The humming continues and he curiously tilts his head towards the sound, as though he can make his ears listen harder than they already are. What are you singing tonight, Snow?

He rolls over, twisting his torso just enough to rest on his elbows as he closes his eyes, hoping turning off one sense will heighten the other. Instead, he begins to imagine you frantically ripping off your work clothes in an attempt to enjoy your evening as fast as possible, quickly donning some thin tanktop you've saved as your last article of clean clothing for the week. You're always braless in the laundry room, your cold, hardened nipples poking out from beneath the flimsy fabric stretched tight around your chest. But it's never thin enough to be as transparent as he would like. His tongue darts out to wet his lips briefly before dragging his teeth over his bottom lip.

The humming wavers between louder and softer as you run between rooms, no doubt collecting everything as fast as possible in case he beats you there. Should he let you win this time?

"Baby, you're a fiiiiiiiiirework!" you belt out, very off-key before mumbling the rest of the lyrics you clearly don't know and slowly going back into a hum.

Laughter spills from Jimin's lips like a water fountain in hopes that it's loud enough for you to hear. When you continue on your tune without missing a beat, he leans back, his laughter dissipating into a wide smile as he slowly rises from the floor.

The laundry bin sits by the door, a pitifully small amount of dirty clothes resting in the bottom of it. He presses his lips together a moment before gathering clean clothes from the hangers in his closet and tossing them on the pile. Opening the door, he grabs the basket, casually strolling past your door and down the hall into the laundry room.

No one else seems to do laundry on Thursday nights. It's no doubt why you chose it as the time to do yours. One of the two washers is always busted. Tonight, however, both seem to be functioning. That won’t do. Jimin hoists himself on top of the machines, giving himself enough leverage to unplug the one that’s always falling into disrepair. Luckily the service ticket has been discarded recently. He pulls it from the top of the exposed trash bin in the corner and places it on top of the “broken” washing machine. He quickly starts loading his laundry into the functioning machine, humming the same tune he heard you singing earlier.

You don’t mind working during the holiday season. Everyone has somewhere to go, family to see. You gladly volunteer to work the shifts no one wants to distract yourself from the fact that you don’t. Overtime pay doesn’t hurt either. It’s easier to take your mind off of the disappointment that family-oriented holidays bring when you have cute little customers to send home happy and clean. Unfortunately, you always seem to get filthy in the process of making that happen.

The pile of dirty fabrics layered in your laundry basket tells you that you should probably start a load before showering if you want to have anything semi-clean to wear tomorrow. Plus, if you want to beat your neighbor to the good machine, you’ll need to hustle. Despite the sweat dripping down your neck, you don your favorite zip-up hoodie to attempt to hide the fact that your bra is in the bin with all the other items slated for a good wash.

You catch yourself in the mirror just before picking up the basket, oversized jacket sliding one of your shoulders and exposing your skin to the chill of the apartment. You’re torn between wanting Jimin to see you like this and hoping that you’ll only see him after showering, as you’re fairly certain you still smell like wet dog.

There’s an undeniable tension cutting through the air any time you’re in a room together, but you’re too much of a chickenshit to do anything about it. You’ve convinced yourself that there’s no way someone as perfect-looking as Jimin could be actually interested in you. You want the flirting and the nights spent watching garbage TV together to lead to something real, but fantasizing about how you’d knock on his door simply to confess your attraction is a lot safer than actually doing it.

Down the hall you go, lifting the heavy basket just past the threshold and dragging it across the carpeted hallway. You pop out one of the headphones in your ears so that no one can sneak up on you as you round the corner to the laundry room. Kicking the basket with your foot, it smacks into the door and you awkwardly reach over the pile of clothes to swing it open. The plastic scrapes across the tile and your field of vision travels from the floor to the machine currently filling with water.

Jimin sits on top of the washer with one leg crossed over the other, hands folded around his knee. A smug grin adorns his features as his eyes roam over your form, drinking in the surprise you offer so freely.

"I beat you again this week, Snow," he teases, bouncing his crossed leg a few times with a mischievous tilt of his head.

A puff of hot air passes through your parted lips, clearly not expecting the man to be waiting so patiently for your arrival. Your nose scrunches up in disapproval as you take a few steps towards him, hands on your hips. "You know I get home late on Thursdays. Can't you let me win for once?"

"Oh, you want me to take it easy on you?" He tuts, tongue poking into the side of his cheek for a moment. He uncrosses his legs and uses his palms to lean forward, raising his eyebrows. He pauses once he's inches from your face, letting the shallow space between you build the tension you've become accustomed to. "That doesn't sound like any fun."

You bite your bottom lip, suppressing the urge to close the distance between you. "What sounds like fun to you then?"

The way his smile falters as his eyes fill with devious wonder causes your heart to skip a beat. You swallow hard as his gaze blatantly drops to your chest and his tongue slowly rolls across his lips. Your first instinct is to cover the nipples you know are practically poking holes through your tanktop, but you power through the shame burning your cheeks long enough for his eyes to finish their journey down your body. When they settle on yours again, they definitely seem darker, full of hunger.

"I can think of a few things," he murmurs in a low voice, barely above a whisper. "But they're a secret." He giggles, a shy smile cutting the devilish tone from his words.

It's a deep enough cut through the thick tension that you can take a step back and release the breath you've unknowingly been holding. You roll your eyes and sigh as you note the repair ticket on the machine beside him. "Well, looks like I'll have to wait until you're done." You hoist the basket of dirty laundry onto the seemingly broken washer beside him, carefully taking out the small container of detergent stuffed towards the top. The words come out before you can stop them. "Do you have a big load?"

He drags his teeth over his lips a few times and allows his smile to grow impossibly wider. "You're talking about laundry, right?"

You clumsily fumble with the bottle of detergent until it hits the washer with a loud bang, trying to recover from your poorly-worded question as you position the container upright and eye the empty bin beside him."Yes. The load! It looks! ....Big... A big... Load. Did you stuff it all in there?" The thoughts pricking your tongue are short and choppy, full of regret and horny confusion.

There's no way to hide the mental images playing in your mind of Jimin taking you from behind, emptying himself into you. There's no way to hide the way you want to sink to your knees and take him into your mouth until he gives you the load you can't stop talking about.

He purses his lips and raises his eyebrows at you again, offering another chance for you to rephrase. You squeeze your eyes shut, wishing you could phase through the floor instead of dealing with the meltdown your brain is obviously having. "I just... Don't break it by stuffing it too full, y'know?"

Jimin snickers behind his hand. "Don't worry. I was able to fit everything in, but it's a reasonable size."

"Knock on my door when you're done," you say quietly, ashamed by the lack of bloodflow in your own head.

You turn to leave but Jimin grabs your wrist, causing you to spin back towards him. "Wait..."

He leans in, strawberry blonde hair falling across his face as he tries to get your attention with eyes that threaten to pierce into your very soul. His head swerves left and right and you mirror his movements to avoid eye contact.

“Look at me,” he pleads, throaty whine ripping through the base of his chest despite the smile on his lips. “Please?”

Your eye flicker to meet his, a pout staining your features that you hope will mask your embarrassment long enough to return to the safety of your apartment. “What?”

“Would you… Like to come over and watch a movie?” Despite the cheesy grin on his face, his voice falters and the tips of his ears are bright red. “I ordered pizza. I don’t think I can eat it all myself and I don't like leftovers.”

You know he has his shy side, but any time it peeks out from behind his confident persona, it still manages to catch you off guard. You do your best not to sound too eager, but you can feel the butterflies fluttering against your stomach and traveling up your chest. They’re telling you to screech your answer until your lungs quit burning.

It’s not like he’s never invited you over his apartment before. You've shared many pizzas, and takeout boxes over trashy reality TV for the past few months. But this thing you two have been dancing around is finally pushing your hormones to a breaking point. He seems interested, but always hesitates, letting moments pass that would be better spent pressing himself into your body or running his tongue across your neck.

It occurs to you that maybe he just likes to tease for some harmless fun and the prospect of things going any further with you isn’t part of the game. Maybe you’re just projecting your desires onto him. His jaw goes slack as you lean towards him, melting beneath his gaze. Dark eyes drift across your chest again, shamelessly spacing out when they settle on the pebbled nipples beneath your shirt.

Then again, maybe you think too much.

Every conversation is deeply rooted in lust, but the flirtatious banter is always coated with a fine film of pleasantries that mask your true intentions. Could he feel the same? If you can just get the static in your brain to subside long enough to form a coherent thought, to allow you to properly express your feelings, maybe you could get an answer out of him. Pushing down the excitement brewing in your gut, your eyes dart away and you nervously clear your throat.

“I… have to clean mastiff spit out of my hair,” you begin, your heart snapping in two when you catch the smile fade with the light in his eyes. “But… I’d love to come over when I’m finished.”

He visibly perks up and hops down from the washer, casually gesturing at the digital timer on its screen. “Meet back here in twenty?”

You unconsciously bite your lip, grinning like an idiot as you make your exit. “It’s a date.”

As the door to the laundry room clicks shut, Jimin bobs his head in disbelief a few times. This time you used the word ‘date.’ Tonight can’t be another movie night where he freezes up. No horror. No action movies or thrillers. It’s time to pick out some cute rom-com for you both to giggle along to, hopefully with an extra mushy scene he can use to set the mood. He jumps in the air, unable to contain his excitement. His cheeks are beginning to hurt with how much smiling he’s been doing, but he doesn’t care. You said it’s a date.

A shiver wracks his body as he closes the door to his apartment. He frowns at the number on the thermostat, quickly pressing the button to raise the temperature until it's obnoxiously higher than it should be. There. It should warm up in no time. He seeks the instant gratification of warmth, however. When it doesn't come he decides the next twenty minutes will be best spent in a hot bath.

He grips the edge of the cold fiberglass surface with his hands, sinking into the steaming water slowly with a satisfied sigh. He tilts his head back, resting it on the tile behind him. The sound of water rushing through your showerhead carries through the wall and he stills all movement, careful not to disturb the surface of the water until he hears the sliding of curtain rings along a metal rod. The pressure of the water pounding against the tub dulls in volume, clearly finding another target to assail. You hiss a string of curses that indicate the temperature is too hot for your liking, but it's far too easy to hear sin in each little gasp you take.

Jimin submerges his hand in the water, leaving the other gripping the edge of the tub. His fingers squeeze the inner flesh of his thigh before forming a tight fist around the base of his hardened cock. He stills, feeling the familiar needy pulse echoing against the grip of his palm, urging him to offer some kind of relief in the form of movement. But he’s determined to listen, straining his ears for any indication of your body’s positioning; what he wouldn’t give to be able to see you right now. What would you do if this wasn’t here? Would you watch me too?

Realizing he’s not going to get much more out of the wall behind him unless you decide to sing, he closes his eyes. It’s almost too easy to imagine the water pelting the tender flesh of your breasts. He can thank the thin fabric of your tanktops for that. The cleavage and pebbled nipples constantly drawing his attention away from your face has created a mirage in his mind that’s almost believable. Stray droplets roll down your body in places he knows his tongue could do a much better job covering. His thumb brushes up and down preemptively against his cock, doing everything he can to show restraint just in case you decide to part those pretty lips of yours and sing for him.

Finally he drags his palm up his shaft, finding a rhythm that begins to ease the throb building in his abdomen. He thinks of standing in that shower with you, strands of sopping wet hair sticking to his face as his mouth collides with the delicate skin of your chest. He thinks of tonguing one nipple and licking a stripe to the other. He thinks of using his hands to massage and squeeze at the heavenly mounds of flesh before him as the water beats down on the pair of you. Most importantly, he thinks of you pleading for more. All restraint he previously showed comes crashing down for a fraction of a second. The moan that rips itself from his throat is shameful enough to bring a blush to his own cheeks, and it’s absolutely loud enough to carry through the walls. Did you hear that? ...Did you like it?

Before he can consider pausing to listen for a subtle response, the loud thud of what sounds like a heavy plastic container hitting your floor breaks him from his daydream. Did I catch you off guard? Jimin does nothing to subdue the cackle spewing from his mouth. You certainly didn’t earn your nickname for your grace. Gradually he picks up the pace, allowing his fist to glide from the base of his cock to the exposed tip poking out of the water. The wet sloshing sound his fist makes as it bobs up and down is enough to drive him over the edge, imagining what it might be like to fuck himself down your throat. A growl starts low in his chest and builds into a whine as it tumbles from his mouth.

The glistening studs in his nipples rhythmically heave with each greedy breath, already cold and hard from the exposure to the air. His free hand instinctively moves to pinch the bit of flesh trapped between one of the studs. The sting adds a new wave of pleasure to the way his hand plunges down into the water and up again. He pants into the air, wishing you were the force guiding the hand over his shaft, creating the pressure and wetness trapped between his fingers.

He thinks of you on the other side of this wall, soapy suds running down your perfect tits, your stomach, your legs. What he wouldn’t give to be on his knees between those legs, latching onto your pussy and performing sinful tricks with pressured flicks of his tongue. You might want to get clean, but he wants to make you filthy, even as soft citrus-scented suds dribble down your body and onto his face. Would your legs buckle under the pleasure? He considers hooking his arms around your legs and leaning you back against the wall for better leverage, sucking on that sensitive, swollen bud as the water cascades down his back. What do you sound like when you really sing?

Almost perfectly timed, a moan breaks through the sound of his frenzied pelvic thrusts sloshing up into his fist. A particularly jagged exhale leaves his lips as he slows, the water undulating like angry waves crashing into one another. Click. Click. Click. The sound of the water pressure in your shower changes drastically. Jimin’s whole body convulses as he realizes what you’re doing. He plants his feet on the wall above the faucet, bending his knees so he can sink down into the tub up to his jaw.

He’s been in your apartment. He’s seen the handheld attachment. Closing your transparent shower curtains for company doesn’t mean it’s suddenly invisible. He holds back a curse as you cry out in pleasure again. This time you sound close to the wall beside him. Too close. You’re doing this on purpose. Do you want me to listen? Two can play at this game, Snow.

He drags his teeth over his lip and pumps himself fast, water spilling from the tub and flooding the cold tile flooring. Loud, unrestrained groans fill the air as the water sloshes between his palm and cock, creating a very wet, obscene squelching sound. He straightens his legs against the wall to bring himself up to a relaxed position as he gasps for release, trying not to drown in the water rolling back and forth in the tub.

It’s almost too cute the way he imagines your face is changing color right now. To his surprise you immediately retaliate with a slew of vulgar curses and frantic pleading. Electric butterflies pulse through his abdomen, quickening the pace at which his climax is travelling. It’s so close now; he can’t even pretend like that didn’t just affect him.

“Y/N…. Please… Come over… Ah...” he moans against the wall, knowing you’re panting just on the other side.

“Oh, fuck… I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum,” you warn in a shrill whisper, volume growing with each repetition until you’re practically shrieking. Just at the peak of your frenzied inhales, your voice dips into a low breathy whimper that he can barely make out. “Jimin… I’m cumming. Fuck...”

He slows his movements so he can better listen to you reach your climax, hearing his name on your lips just before losing the ability to listen to anything over his own thrashing in the water. His palm glides down his cock and back up, desperate to meet his own release. He’s got your voice in his head notifying him you’re about to cum on repeat. It drives him over the edge.

He groans, using pressure and strength to stroke himself one last time as ropes of white begin to shoot straight up towards the ceiling like a fountain and land back in the water. He pumps himself through it, riding each wave of pleasure until he’s sure he’s milked every drop of cum from his cock and the fountain of white subsides. He falls back and lets his arms go limp in the water. Now he’s the one who needs a shower.

Despite wanting to show off a little skin for your date with Jimin, there’s a chill in the complex that seems to permeate deep into your skin, digging straight down to your bones. Even the memory of your bold behavior in the shower can’t keep the heat circulating through your body. By the time you realize how long it has taken you to will yourself from the steamy bathroom, apply some “low-effort” makeup, and wiggle into a pair of fleece-lined leggings, you’re ashamed to have missed the window for your meeting by ten minutes.

You sprint down the hall in an oversized hoodie, desperate to apologize for your tardiness. The electric hum of the dryer greets you, and the washing machine previously occupied by Jimin’s belongings thrums nearby, but he’s nowhere to be found. Your laundry bin sits on top of the washer, its contents within the machine below. The backside of the repair ticket has been scribbled on and left beside your bin. ‘Are you still coming, Snow? ;)’

The ticket crumples in your palm as you stuff it in the cavity of your sweatshirt and make your way back towards Jimin’s door, holding back the nerves swirling in your chest. You want to scream in excitement, but that’s probably not an acceptable reaction, even though you reason with yourself that it is a very human one considering how long you've waited for an opportunity like this.

The door swings open before you can knock, a very bundled up Jimin puffing his cheeks out at you. For a moment you mistake his expression for one of annoyance at you. "The heat is out. Can you believe it?"

"What?"

"I just got an email from the leasing office. They don't know when it will be fixed. They're urging people to buy heaters and get reimbursed for them later," he mumbles, looking down at his phone and re-reading the message as you brush past him, immediately discarding your furry slippers as you go. The carpeting in his apartment feels so much better than yours.

"That explains why I can't stop shivering," you sigh. On your next inhale, the smell of pepperoni wafts into your nostrils, and you make a beeline for the small dining room table across the room, noting the closed box on top of it.

"At least they're offering to take money off of rent 'due to inconvenience.'" Jimin scrunches up his nose, shuffling his sulking form towards you. "But I don't want to go buy a heater."

You already have a slice of pizza stuffed in your mouth when you absentmindedly try to answer. "Ihaabwon." The words are a garbled mess.

His eyes meet yours and you nearly choke, embarrassed for trying to speak with your mouth full. The hand still clutching his phone falls to his side and he grins at you with devilish intent, eyes crinkling in the corners. "You're so cute when your mouth is stuffed."

You chew a few times and swallow hard. When you find the nerve to speak, your voice comes out smaller and softer than you'd like. "...I have one. I'll go get it."

Damn it. What happened to being bold? Maybe you'd be faring better if your heart wasn't pounding so damn fast. Despite this, none of your blood seems to be circulating properly to your fingers, your toes, or even your brain at this junction. You're suspicious it's all being funneled into your swollen clit, which has only just stopped tingling from the barrage of pressure you'd exposed it to. Regardless, you gobble down the rest of the slice as you exit, telling yourself you can't let your nerves get the better of you again. Tonight has already proven you can be braver than you think, and it's time to embrace it.

It's about twenty minutes into the movie when you finally work up the courage to place your hand on his, finding it just as cold and clammy as yours. He gives it a gentle squeeze and twines your fingers together without looking away from the screen. Your rapid heartbeat threatens to give away every ache his touch soothes. You do your best to focus on the flimsy plot of the film, but all you can think about is how nice it feels to finally have his palm pressed against yours.

The space heater across the room rattles, fruitlessly pumping out a stream of hot air that never quite makes it over to the pair of you. It’s now that you’re just noticing the soft glow of yellow string lights, creating a cozy atmosphere that you wish could be half as warm as it looks. You chew your lip as you pretend to watch the screen, feeling the weight of his head coming to rest on your shoulder. You try to avoid the thought of how badly you have to pee right now, resisting the urge to bounce your leg to stave off the sensation. The universe is too cruel.

Suddenly Jimin’s pocket begins buzzing. He pulls out his phone and silences the vibrations, groaning as he turns his face towards your shoulder. “Ugh. Laundry is done. I need to go get it...”

As he rises you feel his hand turn over yours a few times, gently caressing the length of your fingers as though he’ll never feel them again. You move to stand but he presses his palm into your shoulder, encouraging you to stay put. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it, ok? Keep my seat warm.”

You melt into the cushion, grinning foolishly at the wink he gives you before wrapping a blanket around himself and leaving. Trembling hands fumble for the remote control, pausing the movie to hopefully drag out the time you’ll spend with him tonight. You have ample time to relieve the pressure on your bladder, nearly breaking your neck on the wet, slippery tile of the bathroom.

Despite the crumpled proof sitting in your pocket, or your aversion to speaking on what you suspected was only a fucked-out fantasy, the amount of water lingering on that floor confirms its authenticity. Can you really pretend like you didn’t get off just listening to him moan and touch himself? Can you really pretend like he didn’t get off listening to you? You settle down in front of the space heater, warming your fingers on the hot air with a satisfied sigh and spacing out as you lose yourself in the memory.

Jimin returns from laundry duty after a few minutes, but you’re focused on the heat, closing your eyes and trying to get the chill out of your bones. He waddles his laundry bin to the corner of the room, setting it down before creeping up behind you. Soft fleece wraps around shoulders along with his curve of his arms. It’s warm, incredibly soft, and it smells of fresh linen fabric softener.

“You weren’t keeping my spot warm.” The chiding nature of his tone is undercut by the breathy whisper and pillowy lips thawing the cold shell of your ear.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you promise, eyes still closed when you turn your face towards the tickling sensation.

"Oh? Really?" Supple lips skim against your cheek, but he doesn't move any closer. "How?"

You exhale a ragged breath, trying to find the will to close the distance between your lips. All it would take is a nudge, just a subtle turn on your part to do so. But, like always, you freeze. How ridiculous is it that you can mutually masturbate, but sharing a kiss is somehow beyond your courage?

"I'll... keep you warm now. I'm all toasty, see?" Your palm, now slightly less frigid but still equally clammy, cups his chin as you tap your fingers against his cheek.

"I see..." he hums in disapproval, weight of his chin resting on your cold hand. "It seems like you need more time to defrost, but if you come back to the couch with me we can share this blanket I threw in the dryer with your clothes for a few minutes.”

"Hmph, are you saying I wouldn't do a good job keeping you warm?"

You can feel the twitch of his lips against your palm, shy smile forming. "Your hands are still so cold! I'm sure you have your ways. But..." He pauses, gentling bringing his thumb and forefinger across your jawline before pressing them together below your chin. "I'd love to see what they are."

You half-giggle, half-scoff at him. He’s laying it on thick tonight, but it’s not like you mind. In fact, you don’t want the night to end because of it. You both settle in on the couch with Jimin draping the soft blanket across you, remnants of a faint heat in its fibers. Just as the movie resumes, Jimin starts curling the blanket in his fingers, which causes the material to billow in his lap. It’s not like it’s a small blanket, but over the course of a few minutes you’re left with practically no coverage.

“Thief,” you finally accuse, fingers clutching the remaining edge slipping past your shoulder.

He blinks and stares back at you with a surprised smile. “Hmm? We’re sharing aren’t we?”

You roll your eyes and snuggle closer in an attempt to siphon back some coverage. Still his fingers twine the blanket in circles, inching the material further off the slope of your body. Your fingers slither across his chest and down the curve of his arm in search of the hand robbing you of heat. Neither of you are even pretending to watch the movie anymore. He tries to slink back into the cushion, smiling at your futile attempts to free the fabric from his grasp.

“You stop that,” you whisper, leaning against his chest and losing yourself in the way his eyes seem to twinkle in the golden glow of the lights circling the room. When you finally make contact with the fist curled in the blanket, he immediately drops the fabric and clamps down to lace your fingers with his.

“Make me,” he pleads through half-lidded eyes, tongue swiping a quick line across his lips.

You return the pressure on your palm with a squeeze of your own, pressing the back of his hand into the cushion beside him. “Fuck,” you breathe.

Your eyelids flutter for half a second; the electric chill running through your body may be caused by the temperature or simply the way his neck dips to lower his face down to yours. Either way, your breath hitches and you hook your leg over his lap. He takes this as an invitation to slide his free arm around your back, ready to press you even further into his body should you give him a signal to proceed.

You lean further across his lap, arching yourself up into him. “Is that what you want? You want me to make you?” you whisper curiously, lips grazing his as the questions spill from them.

“Please,” he whines breathlessly, voice cracking.

You close the gap with a sly, teasing smile, hungrily smashing your mouths together as though tasting every bit of him will sate that hunger. The hand currently sinking into the couch flies up to his jaw, thumb tracing a line over its contours as you’ve been aching to do for ages. He uses the opportunity to cradle the back of your head, gently positioning it in a way that puts less of a strain on his neck while the hand at your back coaxes you desperately towards him in a lopsided embrace.

The ebb and flow of your kisses have your heads bobbing in time with one another. He inhales greedily over your mouth, immediately coming back down to suck your bottom lip between his teeth. A small satisfied sigh lingers in your throat, and you feel his hand clamp down on the thigh you have spread over his lap.

Just as gravity starts to drive your form further from his embrace, you shift your weight and shimmy your arm out from where it’s trapped against his body. He allows you to pull away for just a moment, your lip snapping back to you with a soft, wet smack. You flit your tongue out to savor any sliver of himself that he’s left behind, already missing the way his tongue tastes when trading exploratory flicks with yours.

Planting your palm into the cushion beside his head, you gain enough leverage to fully straddle his pelvis. You tower above him, relishing in the wonder carved into the way he watches you, mirth creasing thin lines into the outer edges of his eyes. Your thumb glides across his cheek a few times as you lightly cup his jaw with your fingertips, your gaze darting between the reflections of light dancing across his eyes.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” you admit.

“I’ve wanted you for a long time,” he confesses, maintaining steadfast eye contact as he fights the blush prickling the tips of his ears.

It takes all of your self-restraint not to immediately ask why. Instead a joke forms on your tongue before you can quell it. “It’s the smell of wet dog, right? Drives you crazy?”

He giggles, throwing his head back with a loud inhale. “Irresistible!”

A shy smile parts your lips and you descend on him, crashing your mouth down on his to mute the sound of his laughter. Those gentle giggles quickly morph into muffled moans as your tongue dives into his mouth. It takes less than a second for him to counter your intrusion by sliding his tongue against yours rhythmically and you lose yourself in that hypnotic tempo.

His hands settle the top of your knees before his palms start running up to the crease where your thighs meet your hips and then back down again. Your hips involuntarily begin rocking to combat the need building between your legs, but your leggings have pulled away from your skin in the area you crave friction the most.

A staggered whimper breaks out between your frenzied panting. Whether the sound came from him or from you, it’s hard to tell. The few times you’ve opened your eyes to make sure you haven’t been dreaming, he’s looked just as fucked out as you feel. He starts drawing deep circles along the inside of your thighs with his thumbs and your need for him challenges your need to breathe. Gasping for air between wet, sloppy kisses, you card your fingers through his hair, knotting them in place as you roll your body in time with the tongue gliding against yours. This time he blows a puff of air as he moans into you, greedily latching onto your lip and biting down as the sound leaves a croaky trail in his throat.

Sliding his hands along the tops of your thighs isn’t enough. He spreads his fingers; the edge of his thumbs flare towards the inside of your legs, forging a path up towards your clit. The way the material stretches away from your body causes him to abandon his route in favor of following the fabric tucked in that v-shaped channel leading up to your hips. His touch is too light with the layers you’re wearing, but you don’t have time to file a complaint before he slides his fingers beneath your sweatshirt, clamping them down on your skin.

“Ah!” you hiss between kisses, hips wiggling at the chill creeping up your spine. “Your hands--” You don’t get to finish your sentence before he’s biting down hard again and dragging your lower lip through his teeth. “--arr sho--” Your lip snaps back to you, breaking away just long enough to speak in broken gasps before he closes the distance again. “-cold!”

He laughs against your whine, gripping your back and sneaking both thumbs beneath the waistband of your leggings. “Weren’t you going to warm me up?” You can feel him guiding your hips, dragging them in asymmetric loops over his lap.

“Weren’t you going to share the blanket?” you chide, breaking the kiss again.

He grins, gripping a corner of the blanket and throwing it over your shoulder. “I did. Now come back.” He eagerly tries to goad you back to his lips, but you pull back just a bit.

“There are better ways I can warm your hands,” you mumble, yanking his hair to the side to expose his lovely neck, golden skin riddled with goosebumps. Your mouth gets to work kissing and sucking on the sensitive, uncovered bit of flesh, gushing a little bit when he groans beneath you. But it’s not enough. If only your pants weren’t in the way, you could certainly warm more than just his hands.

He gives your hips a firm squeeze, digging his fingers into the soft flesh at your sides. “What ways are those?”

“Take off your sweater,” you tempt in a whisper, dragging your tongue up to his ear. “And I’ll show you.”

He frowns as you lean back, giving him space to do as you’ve suggested. Instead, he tugs at the hem of your sweatshirt, frown morphing into a devilish smile. “You first.”

“I… don’t have anything on underneath,” you admit, shying away from him.

He slips his hands around your jaw, pulling you forward. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“There’s no heat,” you remind him, mimicking his movements and tapping your fingers against his cheek.

“So you want me to take off mine?” he asks, feigning offense. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, dipping his head forward and following your movements. “That seems kind of unfair, don’t you think?”

Your confidence wanes and you squirm under his scrutiny, feeling particularly stupid for trying to be sexy. Sexy isn’t your thing. Floundering under pressure and saying something dumb is definitely your thing. Sweat runs down your neck, despite the fact that you’re still a walking popsicle. In your defense, the art of botching conversations is a skill that runs in your family.

"You're right," you agree, shaking your head. "I'm sorry. It's freezing. I'm an idiot."

You begin to climb off his lap, but his hands catch your hips and bring you back down. "No, no. You're not." He gently presses his lips against yours. "Don't worry. I know you've got me covered."

With a shit-eating grin, he tugs down on the blanket half-draped across your shoulder. You feel him wiggle beneath you before he leans back and shrugs his arms through the holes of his sweater, hastily working the material over his head. At least he has a t-shirt on; you don't feel quite so bad now. The flicker of static charges the air around him, strawberry blonde hair fanning out like it has its own sense of gravity. Without a second thought he moves back in to kiss you and an electric shock zaps the place where your lips connect.

"Ah!" you recoil at the sensation and he giggles between peppering your jaw with kisses. It takes all of your willpower to push him back against the cushion. He even gives you a little pout, his bottom lip protruding.

"You're worse than my clients," you tease, flicking your tongue out at him. "Be a good boy."

"I am," he insists while cupping your jaw and trying to drag your neck low enough to latch his lips onto. When he realizes you aren't having it, he snakes his hands down to your ass and gives both cheeks a firm squeeze.

"Liar." Grinning like an idiot, you grab his wrists and pin them to the cushions while you descend, watching his eyes as long as possible before you press your lips against his neck. You catch a bit of skin between your teeth and he hisses like steam is about to start pouring from his ears. Pressing down with the flat of your tongue, you explore the expanse of his neck for the sounds of pleasure you yearn to hear.

"This..." he exhales a lazy moan, trying to fight his body's will to give in but you can already see his resolve is flimsy. "...isn't fair..."

A deep, throaty moan vibrates beneath your tongue; your pussy throbs at the way the croaky sound crosses over into a melodic hum as you massage wet circles deeper into that spot where his collarbone and neck meet. Another moan escapes him between shaky breaths, higher pitched this time, and twice as needy. His wrists twitch against your palms, fingers digging into the cushion beneath him. Yeah. You want to live in this spot indefinitely.

"Hey..." he trails softly, head falling against the back of the couch. "... You're... Don't leave marks... Snow... hey... Ah... Y/N..."

Your lips smack as you come up for air. He's too drunk on the endorphins swimming through his veins to see your hesitation at the use of your name in lieu of the cute nickname you've grown accustomed to hearing. "You want me to stop?"

He whimpers, self-control buckling faster than you can even get the question out. "No, don't stop. Please, don't stop, Y/N."

He doesn't need to say it twice; you’ve been waiting far too long for this. Your tongue is back on that sensitive spot right by his collarbone and he's moaning against your ear in less than a fraction of a second.

“Mmm… you're gonna make me wear high collared shirts, aren't you?" he whispers, half shaming your actions, half just thinking out loud. There's a subtle attempt to grind his pelvis up into the space between your thighs.

You can’t help but laugh against him, tilting your head back just enough to inspect your handiwork. There’s a criss-crossed reddish-purple mark marring his skin, a placeholder to remind you where to place your tongue later. “It kinda looks like a heart if you squint. Don’t worry. It’s low enough the only way anyone will see it is if you’re walking around shirtless.”

He sighs, picking his head off the couch and trying to peek down at it. “I guess I’ll look at it later when I’m thinking of you on top of me like this.”

Your pussy clenches around nothing as he smiles innocently at you.

“...Are your hands still cold?” You’re already dragging his limp wrists up your thighs to the hem of your oversized sweatshirt

The hoods of his eyelids shade the glaze in his eyes, but do nothing for the way his jaw falls open as you continue dragging his hands upwards. You hiss as his fingers apply pressure to your body as they travel upward, leaving chilly streaks in their wake. Without hesitation, you chew your lip and cup your hands over his, pressing them into your tits. You look into his eyes for comfort as blood rushes to your cheeks. His pupils are completely blown out and you feel his labored breathing quicken.

“Is this okay?” you question, experimenting with a slight roll of your hips.

His eyelids flutter a moment as he massages your breasts, squeezing, pushing, pulling them. Your hands fall away to let him explore the hidden shapes beneath your sweatshirt.

“Is this okay she asks…” he giggles mockingly to himself before kneading his thumbs across your hardened nipples. “Do you want to know how much I’m enjoying this?”

He drops one of his hands and uses it to place yours over his pelvis. You press down with your fingers, feeling the solid erection tucked into the band of his pants.

“I tried to hide it, tried to get it to go away,” he hushedly admits, teeth briefly nipping at your earlobe. “But I’ve been like this since you walked in here.” He pauses, savoring the way you whimper when he drives his tongue into the valley behind your ear. “And everything you’re doing is making me harder.”

“Jimin…” you moan, feeling his cock twitch under the layers of fabric beneath your fingers.

“You sound like an angel saying my name like that.” Both his hands are back on your breasts, fingers digging into your flesh in ways that have you arching your back.

“An angel? Me?” Your lips curl into a crooked smile. “No one’s ever called me that before.”

As you rub two fingers back and forth over the hard shape in his pants, he clamps down on your ear with his teeth and lets a muffled moan escape with his breath. “You’re right. You’re corrupted. An angel with horns. I swear I can see them.”

“Oh, so I’m a devil now? Make up your mind, will you?” You press your lips into a thin line, trying to conceal the satisfaction in your expression when he pulls back to glare at you. Good thing looks can’t kill. His stare is as icy as the room. Is he legitimately pouting at you for teasing him? He’s the king of teasing; he’s just mad you’re just dishing it back in heaps tonight.

“No, you’re an angel with horns,” he insists, glowering as you continue to stroke him through his pants using just your fingertips. He responds by pinching both of your nipples hard, causing you to cry out and grind yourself down on his thighs. You think about slapping his hands away, but the way his fingers now work soothing circles around the sensitive nubs has you leaning into his touch, aching for more. You roll your hips forward, grazing his dick with your pelvis. But it’s not enough and he can tell.

“You won’t get what you need that way.” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and leans forward.

You instantly cling to his shoulders, feeling like he’s about to push you off the couch. His hands clutch your back as he safely dips you onto the floor. The way he towers over you as he drops to his knees has you regretting your decision to not wear panties underneath your leggings. The wetness that just gushed out of you is definitely soaking through. You lean back on your elbows, giggling like a schoolgirl as you inch yourself backwards, closer to the heater. Your eyes never leave his form as he grips his t-shirt by the collar and pops it over his head in one swift motion.

You blink, exhaling a held breath as you catch the glint of silver studs protruding from both sides of hardened brown nipples. The piercings come as a surprise, but you’re excited by the thought of clamping your mouth over them. Your eyes continue hungrily scanning the smooth expanse of his chest as he drapes the blanket across his back with a small shiver. A tattoo lines his ribs, scrawled in hasty bold letters: ‘NEVERMIND.’

He smirks, crawling over you and slotting a knee between your legs. Your fingertips gingerly brush across the inked skin in wonder, not able to take your eyes off of it. “Is there meaning behind that?”

You verbalize the thought without thinking, knowing he’s probably been asked that a million times. You know not every tattoo has to have some deep profound meaning, and you feel a little foolish for asking what might be a personal question. But every thump of the heavy beat in your chest tells you that the more you ask, the more you learn, and the harder you fall. You’ve been falling for months now, but at least it’s not such a lonely descent anymore.

He plants a gentle, chaste kiss on your lips before pressing his forehead to yours. “It’s a reminder to not care what other people think.”

“Does it work?” you ask while trailing fingers through his hair. “I feel like I could use that advice daily.”

He laughs, although you swear he looks sad as he thumbs your cheek. “Do you think I would have waited so long to have you like this if it did? I care too much about what others think. I always have. I was scared you’d see what a mess I am and you’d never look at me again. I couldn’t bear the thought.”

Your stomach does a somersault. “I think… You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met. Definitely the hottest.” That pulls a shy grin from him. Your heart is soaring, telling you now is the time to be honest. “Jimin, I... feel happiest when I get to talk to you, even for just five minutes. I love hearing you talk about your granny because it gives me hope that families don’t have to be so messed up. I don’t have parents to call and talk to about my day. I used to be sad about that. Then you started doing laundry on my night. And you always make a point of asking about my day. It’s such a small thing, but it makes me so happy.

“Because you listen to my rambling and instead of calling me dumb or hurrying me to the point of my stories like everyone else in my life, you always look at me like…” you pause, trying to push down the tears you can feel building, but you know your eyes are going glassy because his brow furrows in sympathy.

A subtle frown takes hold of his mouth and his eyes soften, leaving an ache in your chest that makes it harder to go on.

“...like you actually like listening to me. I can’t describe how much that means to me because,” you continue, struggling to breathe and speak at the same time, “I’m used to being ignored or talked over. You’re the first person in a long time to make me feel like I’m not a burden. Or… a grade-A fuckup.” A choked laugh escapes with your held breath. “You think you’re a mess, Jimin, but look at me. I’m a mess. And yet, when I’m with you, I feel like it doesn’t matter. I don’t know how to describe it, but there’s something about you that makes me feel...”

Goddamnit. You’re blowing it. Jimin’s hovering above you, shirtless, after just making out with you and now you’re turning things into a sob-story. Tears well up in your eyes and your throat closes, forbidding you from saying anything else. Are you shaking because you’re cold, or because this is almost too much to handle? You should get up. You should go back to your apartment and cry it out and apologize in the morning.

You push him back and sit up, intending to do just that as the tears in your eyes use gravity to their advantage. You move to wipe your eyes, but Jimin’s fingers catch them right as they begin to streak down your cheek.

“Complete? Less alone?” he wonders, trying to get you to look at him. “I listen to you because you deserve to be heard. You’re funny and cute and smart. And you always have a good story about dogs. How can anyone not want to listen to you?”

He throws his arms around your quivering shoulders, bringing you into a tight hug. “I’m sorry that people have been so cruel, that life has been so unfair to you. But I… will always ask about your day. Not because you need to tell me, but because I want to know.”

He sniffles loudly and your hands fly to his back to comfort him. “Maybe it’s okay that you’re a mess because I am too. Let’s be a mess together, okay?”

He pulls back and now it’s your turn to wipe the tears from his eyes. You share a warm smile when your eyes catch the flash of red lace on his shoulder, making your heart sink into the pit of your stomach.

You gulp as his eyes follow your gaze to your favorite pair of red panties clinging to the fleece blanket. You immediately try to snatch them, but he beats you to them and closes his fist around the lacey material.

“Wow you already took these off for me?” he asks with a sly grin, knowing damn well that they must have stuck to the blanket he briefly tossed into the dryer with your clothes. You stumble over your own knees as you reach out to take them back.

He puckers his lips and feigns surprise, forcing air through his teeth as he raises his eyebrows. “Oh, they’re a little wet!”

You wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole as you snatch them from his grip.

“Don’t be so embarrassing,” you mumble, stuffing them into the pocket of your hoodie.

“But you’re so cute when you get shy.” He goes in for a kiss, but misses your lips as you turn your head away. Not to be dismissed, he moves towards your ear, ghosting his fingertips around your hairline.

“Besides,” he continues, lowering the usual melodic tenor of his voice to a sultry bass, “I know that’s nothing compared to how wet you are for me now.”

He knows. Of course he knows. Ashamed by the truth in his statement, you bury your face into the warmth of his neck, letting a high-pitched whine flee from your throat, which quickly turns into a muffled screech against his skin.

He laughs at the ridiculous sound. You’re so weird. How can you be so weird and still turn him on? “See? You’re so cute. Hey, don’t hide from me!”

He takes the opportunity to slide his hands under your sweater again, fingers pinching the soft flesh of your waist. You bolt upright and grip his wrists like you’re about to snap them in half.

“Such a brat. I take back all the nice things I said,” you whisper, rolling your eyes. Even as the words are coming out, you’re bringing his hands to your chin and kissing the brim of his curled knuckles.

“You can’t,” he weakly drawls, losing himself in your touch.

He walks his fingers over your bottom lip and drums them against the inside of your mouth, watching your lip snap back to you with each slow, alternating swipe. You dart your tongue out to coat the pads of his fingers, wanting to tease the wet heat of your mouth closing down on him. But the way his eyelashes hopelessly batt as he tries to close his eyes and compose himself has you sucking his fingers into your mouth in an instant. Hollowing your cheeks, you trap him in the slick pressure chamber between your cheeks and your tongue. His jaw hangs open as he watches you slowly glide them in and out of your mouth.

An uneven breath hitches in his throat. “Don’t be a tease,” he pleads.

You pause, chest burning as his eyes bore into yours. His fingers coast out of your mouth with a gross popping sound and you kiss the tips of them before speaking, “Then don’t be a brat.”

Pulling the blanket over his shoulders, he wraps an arm around your neck, the weight of his body pressing you back. The distance between you quickly fills with muffled moans and the wet smack of your lips hungrily sliding against one another.

“I want to feel you,” he murmurs between open-mouth kisses, fingers diving under your sweatshirt and slowly working the material up your stomach.

“Me too,” you say, brain short-circuiting as his mouth licks a hot stripe down your neck. “I mean, I want you to feel me too. Not that I don’t want to feel you. I want to feel you. A lot.”

He smiles against your skin. The fabric of your sweatshirt bunches up just below your breasts and he pauses, waiting for a possible objection. “Do you want me to keep going?”

“Please,” you breathe, already wiggling your arms out of the sleeves. Between the chill of the air and Jimin’s sharp inhale, your nipples grow rigid. You’re pretty sure they’re hard enough to cut glass. His eyes roam your chest, drinking in the sight of your beauty just as you finish dragging the sweater over your head. He forces himself to tear his eyes from the sight of your pebbled nipples heaving up and down with each shallow breath your lungs take in.

Blinking a few times, he drags his eyes up and giggles when he sees the static in your hair.

You recoil and quickly criss-cross your arms to cover your chest, mistakenly believing he’s mocking your body. You think you’d be used to people laughing at you by now, but it still catches you off guard. It’s like a swift punch to the gut when you consider your foolish optimism. Armed with knowledge of the meaning behind his tattoo, you truly hoped Jimin could see past the years you spent ripping yourself apart in attempts to please others.

It’s been tough, but you’ve been able to pick up the pieces of your shattered self-esteem since moving away from the city. Leaving behind the hate and negativity binding you back to that world seemed impossible at the time, but you’ve made such progress, such strides away from all that. You’d like to think you possess a resilience, a hard shell that protects you from cruel people now, but it turns out you’re just as soft and vulnerable as ever.

It’s been years of tying ribbons decorated with hope and cheerfulness over the despondency branded into your core. And it feels like everything you’ve worked so hard to become unravels in an instant. You feel like melting into a puddle of tears. You feel like an idiot.

“Are you okay?” His smile falters and the laughter previously ringing throughout the room dies on the tip of his tongue. Anxiety drenches his face as he looks upon you, his stomach flip-flopping with the concerns building in his throat.

“Sorry,” you apologize, unable to hide your shame for not living up to whatever expectations he might have had. Still, you cling to the shred of dignity that remains lodged in the back of your mind. “I know I’m not… Like… The best looking, but it was kind of mean to laugh.”

“Oh…. Oh no… Y/N, I wasn’t laughing at… I would never… I was laughing because of this…” He drops his finger to your nose and you’re shocked by sharp a jolt of electricity. He makes a big gesture around his head to try and explain. “Your hair was fluffy. It was cute.”

He does his best to hide the tremble of his fingers as they brush the hair from your eyes and slowly trace jagged lines down your body. “I think you’re beautiful. And I will never. Ever. Be cruel to you. I will never hurt you.”

“Promise?” you ask, feeling foolish for falling apart so easily under a false assumption.

“I promise,” he insists, innocently brushing his lips against yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into both a deeper kiss and embrace. The cold sting of the metal studs at his nipples gives you goosebumps, but the skin-to-skin contact has you moaning into him and craving more. Your tongue plunges into his mouth and he responds with an enthusiastic grind of his hips.

“Fuck,” you pant, already not-so-subtly yanking the fabric of your leggings down.

“Let me help you,” he offers.

Your hands, which have been trying to work the material down your hips without lifting your ass, abandon their efforts in favor of groping the small of his back and lightly massaging the back of his neck. He smiles sweetly, lifting himself up enough to trail a hand down between the two of you, letting it take a detour along the curve of your breasts as it goes. When it finally meets the fabric still gathered just above your sex, he pauses and then dives his fingers below the material instead.

You gasp as he rubs his fingers along your folds, seeking access to the prize hidden beneath. The slick, sticky coating now drenching every bit of your cunt allows him to glide through almost too easily. Suddenly he’s rubbing small, quick circles against your slippery clit and your can’t help but throw your head back against the floor. Lucky for you the carpet softens the blow.

“Does it feel good?” he asks with a pleased hum as his lips close around a pebbled nipple and swathes his tongue over it.

Your head lolls from side to side as you massage your fingertips into the base of his scalp. “So fucking good, Jimin.”

He moans at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue, deciding it’s time to rub your clit with his thumb instead so he can dip his fingers inside you. His knuckles rub against the damp fabric of your leggings as he teases your obscenely wet entrance with a finger. Quickly deciding two is far better than one, he plunges them inside your dripping cunt while keeping a steady pressure on your clit.

You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut as he curls his fingers up to experience the contraction of your walls before he starts languidly pumping those delicate digits in and out of you. Digging into his back with your fingernails and knotting your other hand in his hair, you cry out a sound that makes his cock twitch against his belly.

He drags your nipple through his teeth as he pulls back, watching the jiggle that ripples through your breast before turning his head to rest on it. Suddenly his fingers disappear from your cunt and your walls spasm, weeping at the loss.

“So wet…” he whispers, sliding all of his fingers along your folds and gathering as much of you as he can.

You’re so fucking embarrassed. You’re not just wet, you’re salaciously wet, like a goddamn waterfall of pussy juice. Just as you’re about to apologize, he drags a wet, sticky trail up your belly with fingertips that have been drowned in your essence. You lose the will to speak as he looks up from his resting place on your tits.

“Is this all for me?” he inquires with a face of stone, eyelids half-closed as he spreads his fingers apart to let you see the glistening trails connecting them.

You manage to squeak out a pitiful, “I’m so sorry!”

Why you’re acting like you’ve physically harmed him in some way has him beyond puzzled. “Sorry? But, why?” He blinks, furrowing his brow. “I’ve never had someone this wet for me…. From now on…” he shyly trails off, bringing his fingers to his kiss-swollen lips and flicking his tongue across each one. His voice drops an octave. “I’ll be thinking about this every time I cum.”

With that he dips one into his mouth, eyes fixed on yours. You can’t look away, can’t even blink when he moans, eyelids fluttering as he deeply inhales your scent. “Delicious….”

You watch, speechless as he takes turns plugging his fingers into his mouth until he’s licked them all clean. “You taste sweeter than I imagined, Snow.”

When you don’t react, and stare at him like a terrified deer in headlights, he leans forward and hovers above your mouth. “You okay?”

Smelling yourself on his breath, your eyes close and you pull him into a deep kiss. He already tastes so fucking good. But he tastes heavenly when he’s wearing you on his tongue. “You’re... ” You try to shake the stupor out of your eyes, but you’re so smitten. “Amazing.”

He grins, pressing his lips to your cheek, then your neck, then your collarbone. He swipes his tongue across an area that makes you tense and he decides to revisit it, sucking a red mark of revenge into your flesh.

“I want you so fucking bad. Please, Jimin,” you whimper his name like he’ll take pity on you and climb back up your body to give you another taste of his mouth dripping with your juices.

Instead, your fingernails claw channels into his back as he forgoes the spot at your neck. He descends, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses on every bit of exposed skin he can around both of your tits. “I want...” He laps the sticky trail he previously made with his fingers, following the path from your nipple down to your waist. “To make…” His tongue makes a lazy circle around your belly button before coasting down to the band of your leggings. “You cum for me.”

Your walls try to clamp down on something, anything, but there’s nothing inside your cunt to satisfy the craving driving you mad. You don’t have time to ruminate on this because he’s already yanking your leggings down your thighs, pulling them off and tossing them across the room. Your first instinct is to lock your thighs together to hide yourself from his gaze, but his palms catch your ankles as he moves to slot himself between your legs.

“Finally,” he breathes, running his hands up the inside of your calves, past your knees, slowing when he reaches your thighs. “Can I...?”

He seeks your approval, but you’re already throbbing with need, nodding and biting your lip to keep yourself from screaming yes. “Please, Jimin. Please.”

You tense as he presses his palms into both of your thighs, spreading you wide so he can see your glistening pussy. “Beautiful.”

Your cheeks are on fire, but you don’t have time to dwell on that either because Jimin is diving his tongue into your cunt like a man starved, lapping up your juices with a shameless slurping sound. And it feels like you’ve reached fucking nirvana.

“Oh fuck,” you cry out, tone laced with whiny need. All you can do is twist your fingers around strands of his hair as your head slams back against the floor. If it weren’t for this carpet, you’d probably have a concussion by now.

The more you whimper, the harder he pushes his jaw into you, swiping his tongue into the entrance of your cunt and collecting as much of your sweetness as he can. He flicks his tongue in messy circles along your labia, taking his time as he works his way up to that sensitive bundle of nerves above.

You swear that he must have some sort of supernatural gift for eating pussy because you can already feel the orgasm building in your gut. You flex the muscles of your stomach, trying to will yourself to hold on just a little longer. Clenching your jaw, you tighten your grip in his hair and swallow hard. He groans against you as you tug at his golden locks, sending soft vibrations straight to your core.

The forgotten movie continues playing nearby, but all you can hear are the deep inhales he's taking through his nose as he keeps is mouth clamped down over your clit. The wet squelching of his tongue mixing saliva with your own bodily fluids should be grossing you out, but it fills you with a new wave of desire that pushes you closer to the edge. You've only ever gotten close this fast when you're alone. How much of his soul did he have to sell for this sinful ability?

You moan his name again as you slide one hand to your tit, groping and pinching your freezing nipple in multiple directions. He lifts his mouth to hungrily gasp for air while continuing to sweep his tongue over your vulva. When he catches the movement of your hand tweaking your nipple, he groans and passionately moves his lips over your clit like he's trying to make out with it. Your eyes roll back and you whine loudly as he pulls himself off you long enough to speak.

"You taste so good, " he whispers, sounding out of breath, like he might have been suffocating himself in your cunt for fun. "Does it feel good?"

He brushes his fingertips over your swollen clit, knowing damn well you're pulsing with need. You prop yourself up on your elbows and look down at him. He cocks his head to the side, allowing his hair to fall across his face, waiting for you to answer.

You answer with a roll of your hips, trying to increase the pressure of his fingers on your bud by wrapping your legs around his back. He obliges your need for a moment, basking in the feel of your body desperately grinding onto his fingers, but he pulls them back and tuts at you with a sweet smile on his face. It's subtle but Jimin can feel it: the tremble of your thighs.

No matter how much you try to hide it, he knows. You're already so close that you're literally shaking. Will you beg me, Snow?

His eyes settle on yours as he slowly moves his fingertips back to your clit, only granting featherlight touches until you answer his question. When you push your hips back down for more, he moves his hand away again, grinning like a madman at the frustration staining your features.

Maybe you forgot what he asked. Raising his eyebrows, he trails his fingers up and down your thighs in teasing repetitions, always retracting them the moment he starts to give you what you want. "Tell me it feels good."

"You know it feels good," you whimper as his thumb swipes over your entrance.

"How good?" He stills, hovering his fingers over your clit. You can feel him teasing faint circles over it, denying you any sort of pressure until you answer.

"So fucking good."

He licks his lips, and spreads your folds open with his fingers. "Tell me how much you want me."

"I want you so fucking bad. I can't think about anything else. Please, baby."

A mischievous grin spreads across his face. "Baby…" he parrots back in a whiny voice, mocking you while kissing a line down your inner thigh. He swipes his tongue slowly up your entrance, quickly licking your clit like it's his new favorite flavor of lollipop.

"Jimin, please," you protest, throwing your head back so you don't have to look at him.

"What?" He slows his pace, kissing your swollen bud and rolling it against his tongue, pausing to whisper into you. "Tell me, baby."

With all mockery removed from his tone, the innocent word sounds absolutely sinful falling from his lips. If you're being honest, you never want him to stop saying it.

"You're evil," you breathe. "Please, don't stop."

You squeeze your thighs around his head as he massages his tongue against a particularly sensitive spot.

"Ah…! There! Right fucking there!" Your elbows ache as you try to stay propped up to keep your view of his beautiful face buried in you. "Jimin… Jimin, you're gonna make me cum."

Dark eyes peer up at you, sucking your labia through puckered lips before pausing to pant against you. "I know… Will you touch your pretty body for me, baby?"

Your thighs twitch at the request. He takes the opportunity to slide a finger inside your cunt while he tongues your clit. You lean back even further, mouth silently hanging open like you're about to start wailing. Instead you grab at your breast like it's your lifeline, catching your nipple between shaky fingers. Finally you give up on watching and throw your head back, resting it on the floor and running your fingers through your hair to keep from shoving his head down.

The quiver in your thighs grows stronger and you find yourself involuntarily bouncing to fight the sensitivity mixed in with pleasure. He clamps a hand on your hip to try to keep you from bucking him off the wonderful spot he's found. You clench around his fingers, aching for his return when he lifts his mouth from your clit.

"Look at me," he pleads, reaching his thumb up to tease the place he's left covered in spit.

You struggle to perch yourself on your hands, running on pure adrenaline from the most intense edging of your life. Fingernails dig into the carpet on either side of you, arms shaking like they're made of jello. "Jimin… I can't. Not when you're looking at me like that."

He cocks his head to the side curiously. "I'm not sure what you mean?"

You beg, not as a "please," or "come on," but his name expressed as a hopeless sigh; it sounds criminal when you say it like that.

He cracks a smile. "Let me help you."

He slides the hand currently at your hip around your side and presses against the curve of your back. Slipping his fingers from your cunt, he shoves them into your mouth and forces you to bend forward and watch as he descends to replace them.

"See how good you taste?" He whispers it like it's some forbidden secret he's chosen to share. Not giving you a chance to respond, he works his tongue along every delicate fold he can, savoring the tremor of your form as he turns his attention to that wonderful spot he found earlier.

Release is closing in fast as he batters his tongue against your clit. You mindlessly suck your taste from his fingers, letting a culmination of saliva and your own juices seethe from the corners of your mouth to coat your chest in a messy drizzle.

"Fuuuck," you whimper, bobbing your head over them like they're the cock you're craving. The pleasure between your legs is all-consuming, causing your eyes to water as you clench them shut. You feel your orgasm cresting with each quick swipe of his tongue. You force your eyes back open, fearing he might stop and tease you again if you don't.

"Ahhhhm," you moan as his fingers tug your jaw down and you grind your clit hard against the velvety smooth comfort of his lips. "Gonna cum."

Keeping his dark, hungry eyes locked on yours, he releases a groan that vibrates into your core. Your hips stutter against him and suddenly tense. The only form of movement your body offers is the violent tremor deep in your core as you give in to the crashing waves of your orgasm.

Your sharp intake of breath and heavy, spit-soaked moan is almost enough to make him cum on the spot. The quick battering of his tongue never falters and he lets you ride out the high until your body can process movement again. Aftershocks wrack your core until you're bucking your hips in an attempt to free yourself from the overstimulation.

He considers standing his ground to try and give you another, but he climbs up your body instead. Your arms wobble as he presses himself against you, lips and chin glistening in the low light. Despite the sweat running down his forehead, he shivers when you run your tongue over his lips to commit to memory how good he tastes when he's wearing you.

You reach down, palming his length through his pants, feeling the leaking tip poking out the band at his waist. "I want to make you feel good. Please let me make you cum."

He takes in a ragged breath against your kiss, "I'll be right back."

Before you can process the words, he's gone, leaving you as a panting mess on the floor. The heater sends a flow of hot air towards you but you can still feel the cold nipping at your sweaty skin.

Jimin practically sprints back to you, tearing the condom wrapper open with his teeth. When he sees you lying naked on his floor, he pauses to take in the sight. This better not be a really vivid dream.

You look up and he's looking back at you, smiling in a way that melts the chill off every part of your body. You grin like a smitten fool, unable to focus on anything but his kind eyes, even as he's tugging his sweatpants off and rolling the condom down his shaft.

By the time you realize you have a chance to look at his dick and commit the sight to memory, he's already slotted himself between your legs. He pulls the forgotten blanket over his back and lets the weight of his chest come down on yours.

He brushes the hair from your forehead as you wrap your arms around his form in an intimate embrace. He studies your face a moment, wondering if it's too soon to tell you how much he cares about you. It's the little things over the months he's fallen for, small pieces of you that have burrowed into his heart to build a larger, stronger form of affection. This feeling is more than just a shallow attraction, but will bringing that up make you run away?

It's worth the risk. If you don't feel the same, then he can't bear to have you like this even if his body is screaming for it. It can't be meaningless. Not with you.

He offers a gentle kiss, fingers trembling as they cup your chin. He lets the whisper rest against the surface of your lips. "I love you."

Your heart skips a beat and you hug your arms tighter around him. Love is a strong word. Especially for you. Growing up, you experienced what two people called love for the sake of outward appearances, but it was really only a mask they wore to conceal their hatred of each other. How can you say you love him when you don't even know what real love is like?

He waits for the response buried in your throat, trepidation taking hold of every thought outlining the possibility of reciprocation and twisting it into a mental lashing. Has his sensitivity on this matter really messed it all up? His eyes flicker between yours, pursing his lips and holding back a sigh when the answer doesn't come. He can’t tell what you’re thinking but heaven knows he’s trying to nurture the power of telepathy right now.

You know he wants the truth, whatever it may be. You swallow, chest tight as you try to form the words. You think of the kindness shown by others in your life, all the good experiences mixed in with all the shit life has thrown in your face. Jimin falls into the extremely good category, like the "I didn't know I could feel this good" category. You can't imagine a day going by that you don't talk to him. You don't want to.

"I don't have a good example of love-love to go by," you begin, watching him try to hide the disappointment in his face. "But I'd like to think this is what it's supposed to be."

Tears sting your eyes. Vulnerability is hard, but you're willing to take a chance on him and he realizes how big that is for you. Salty sweet tears of relief run down his cheeks as he kisses away your shared insecurities.

He could spend forever tangled in your embrace, innocently kissing away your worries and fears. Your fingers drag their way through his hair and you rut your hips into him, grinding your pelvises together. Being this intimate is new and exciting, but it's leaving you too vulnerable and is becoming an increasingly prominent source of anxiety.

Gripping the edges of the blanket at his back, you pull it across his shoulder blades as though it will cover the goosebumps speckling your chest. "Mmm. Please don’t make me wait any longer.”

He steadies himself on his elbows, fingers dancing with strands of your hair against the carpet. He rolls his hips against you a few times with a smile, letting his dick slide against your soaked, sensitive clit before lifting back and lining himself up properly.

“Tell me you want me,” he whimpers, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance with shallow taps. You try to lure him in by contracting the muscles in your pussy touching the head, hoping the feeling is enough rather than words. You’re having a hard time with those right now.

“Aaah…” he moans, dipping his head to your neck a moment. “You really are impatient.”

Slowly, he glides himself in about an inch, feeling you tense at the intrusion. The stretch makes you breathe a moan into his ear, causing him to snap his head back up to make eye contact with you. His chest is heaving as he waits, trying to give you time to adjust without blowing his load immediately. The way you’re trying to torture him by squeezing your walls around him is not making things easy.

“More, please,” you sigh, gripping the thick meat of his ass and pulling him towards you. “I want you.”

Finally, he gives in to the pleasure. His eyes roll into the back of his head as he bottoms out in one smooth motion. You squeak a brief sound of satisfaction, enjoying the dark hunger blazing in his eyes when they focus back on your face. He tries to reel the self-control back in, dragging his cock out at a leisurely pace before slowly working it back in. The last thing he wants is to hurt you, for this to be an unpleasant experience. But god. You feel so good. Too good.

“I always want you,” you breathe, hooking your legs around his waist and rolling your hips up to meet his as they come back down.

It’s difficult to think when you’re such a gorgeous mess beneath him. With your eyebrows knitting together, jaw hanging open, an apologetic look in your eyes as your hand shoots up to grip the back of his neck for better leverage to thrust yourself back up at him: you’re the epitome of perfection. His pace quickens with a spike of adrenaline surging through his veins. Soon his mouth hangs open, mirroring yours as he’s overwhelmed with the sensation of your tight, wet hole squeezing his cock like it’s the only place it’s ever needed to belong.

“J-Jimin,” you whine, looking down to catch the way your own tits press together, bouncing in unison with your writhing bodies. You try to see past your tits, hoping to catch a glimpse of his length disappearing inside of you, but the shadows cast by the blanket make it hard to see much of anything. So you drag your eyes back up to meet his, absolutely destroyed by the wonder painted all over his features. He’s looking at you like you’re the most perfect human he’s ever seen.

Because you are.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, bringing his open mouth down over yours.

With your tongues duking it out with each other, he pistons his cock into you with a vigor unlike anything you’ve experienced in your life. The squelching of your pussy while being mercilessly pounded is background noise to the sound of his balls slapping against your ass. You groan a garbled sound into his mouth, trying to remember how to breathe and process pleasure at the same time.

He moves to your neck, latching onto a sensitive spot immediately. This combined with the weight of him pressing down on your chest has you heaving, exposing more of your neck for him to explore. Your sweaty bodies slide against each other and you roam your fingers through his damp hair, savoring the feel of his tongue gliding up and down your neck until he settles on a place that makes you curl your fingers around those strawberry blonde locks.

You never thought you’d feel safe like this, and yet here you are. You’re about to lose yourself in the emotional implications of your progress when he slips right out and thrusts up against your clit, immediately apologizing. You cry out at the loss, wishing he could fill you up all day every day for the rest of your life. Because without him you feel so empty.

He chuckles nervously. “Slippery… Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

You smile, placing a small kiss on his lips. “I’m fine. But I think you’re working too hard. Why don’t you relax?”

You place a hand on his chest, facilitating the switch in your positions. Jimin rolls flat on his back with a grin, blanket trapped beneath him. There’s nothing to hide behind now. You finally take in the sight of his cock standing at attention, its beautiful girthy form being suffocated within the cream-covered condom. It’s a perfect size. Not too big. Not too small. Most of all it’s wide enough to fill you up, and so fucking delicious-looking. You could pop the condom off and take him into your mouth right now. He must see the thought cross your mind as you lick your lips because he grabs your wrists and guides you up to meet his face.

“Come back to me. Your Prince Charming would like to kiss you,” he coaxes in a cloyingly sweet tone. “There will be time to kiss me elsewhere later.”

“Oh, you’re my Prince Charming?” You can’t help but smile. He makes your heart swell with joy, even when he’s being a brat. “How long have you been holding onto that one?”

“Since the day I decided you were Snow White,” he says breathlessly.

“I told you that animals don’t actually like me as much as you think they do. Birds poop on me all the time.”

“And I told you Granny says that’s good luck.” He presses his lips to your cheek and grabs your waist. “I just wanted to sweep you off your feet,” he sheepishly admits, eyes darting away for a moment.

You straddle his waist, aligning yourself with his cock. “And tell me, what do you want now?”

“I want…” His eyes glaze over as he feels you sink down, grunting a weak “please” when you’re flush with his pelvis, unmoving. His hands link themselves with yours as you lean over him. Instead of looking anywhere else or trying to get you to move your hips, he stills and looks deep into your eyes. “I want to be your happily ever after, my lovely princess.”

His words catch you off guard and tears begin falling with your stunned blinks. He’s always looked at you like a princess, hasn’t he? It doesn’t matter how screwed up you may feel, or even how screwed up you actually are. He loves you. He cares for you. And he wants you to see what he sees so badly that he will point the mirror on the wall towards you every day until you see that you truly are the fairest of them all.

“Please don’t cry,” he says, wiping the tears from your cheeks. There are already tears forming in his eyes too. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I am,” you smile, lowering yourself to press your chests together. His arms wrap around you, offering comforting strokes with his fingertips against your back. His cock is still buried in your pussy and it’s distracting. He would love nothing more than to thrust up into you and spill himself in your guts.

“Tell me you love me,” you beg in a hushed whisper, kissing him like he’s the only form of oxygen you’re going to get for the rest of the night.

“I love you,” he whispers back between greedy, sloppy kisses.

You roll your hips, granting the movement he’s been craving as you slowly bounce on his cock. When he groans you clench around him and pick up your pace, hoping that you’re not as sloppy as you feel. Between the tears and the emotions swirling in your chest, your hips are a stuttering mess. If you are being a terrible top, he doesn’t say anything. He rocks himself with your slow, fucked out pace, hitting a heavenly spot inside you with each pivot your hips make to meet his again.

“I love you,” he repeats into the air as you lean back and steady yourself by placing your palms on his chest. He squeezes his eyes shut as you begin a new, rapid tempo that threatens to make him cum in seconds. He slurs out a whine of incoherent sounds, indicating you’re bringing him closer to the edge of release.

The shy, proud grin spreads across your face like wildfire as you watch him physically struggle to compose himself. “Got a big load for me, Charming? Or is it reasonably-sized?”

His face is flush and those big black pupils are dilated so wide you can’t tell them apart from the irises anymore. He wants to tell you to slow down so he can drag this out some more, but his climax is racing the words trapped in his throat. He grabs your hands and pulls you down close to him so he can kiss you again and again.

“Y/N… Ah…. I can’t....” He’s sucking air through clenched teeth between kisses, trying his best to push back the tightness in his balls.

“It’s okay, Jimin. Let go. Cum for me.”

With that he quickly wraps his arms around your waist, digging his fingernails into your sides as he takes control from beneath you, fucking you hard and fast as he chases his release. Your body shakes as he relentlessly thrusts those sinful hips upwards in quick, powerful strokes, holding you in a tight embrace like you might float away if he loosens his grip. You moan into each other’s mouths, the muffled sounds mingling as you crash your tongues against one another.

“I love you,” he whispers again, desperately this time.

“I love you too,” you respond breathlessly, doing your best to keep up with the insane tempo he’s set.

“Oh,” he quickly gasps, unable to fight the curse on the tip of his tongue. “Baby… Fuck... I’m cumming.”

The rhythm of his thrusts somehow increases in speed and you’re relieved to hear him gasp out the affirmation of his release. A small part of you is worried you won’t be able to take much more, even though you really want to; it’s been some time since anything has been between your legs that didn’t run on batteries. This is so much better.

Needy moans spill into your mouth with your name on repeat between breaths. He pumps himself into you with one last burst of power. Once. Twice. Three times. His hips shake beneath yours and fall limp against the floor as he chews on your bottom lip. Jimin cumming is hottest fucking thing you’ve ever experienced in your life and tonight you’ve heard it twice.

He allows your lip to snap back to you and plants a kiss on your forehead before rolling you over onto your back and slipping himself from inside of you. “Will you stay here tonight?”

You nod with a tired smile. “If you still want me.”

“I always want you,” he whispers with a shy kiss to your cheek. “The bed’s a bit more comfortable though.”

“I really didn’t mean to say it,” Jeongguk whines, face buried in his hands as he sits on Jimin’s couch.

Jimin puffs his cheeks, sparing a glance at the clock on his phone. He made plans to watch a movie with you once you got home from work. And by watch a movie, he means to disregard the movie as background noise and fuck you senseless. What he didn’t plan on was his friend stopping by for an impromptu therapy session; it happens often enough that he usually is prepared for such an event. But there’s only been one thing on his mind for the past week, and it’s been bent over every surface in this apartment every day the moment you get home. He’s eager to keep that streak going.

You’ll be home soon and Jeongguk doesn’t show any signs of leaving. Jimin decides to text you, letting you know the door is still unlocked, but he has company so don’t come running in while tearing your shirt off unless you want to entertain them both. He smiles when he hits send, eager for a response. It’s at this moment Jeongguk looks up at his friend, realizing he’s enamored with his phone.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Jeongguk looks crushed, sinking back into the cushion and rubbing his thumbs over the yellow plush dog Yoongi had constructed for Jimin at work. Its silky fur is comforting to Jeongguk, but not enough to soothe the ache in his heart. He fucked things up with this new teacher and he really doesn’t know how to smooth things over. Where does he even begin?

“I’m sorry,” Jimin says, quickly pocketing his phone and making sure Jeongguk knows he has his full attention. He places a hand on his knee and squeezes. “It’s okay. Just apologize to her.”

"How can I do that when every time I talk to her I can't even think straight? I mess up everything that I do when she's around," he groans, clearly resigned to his own hopelessness.

"How can you possibly mess up two words?" Jimin asks, quirking an eyebrow at his friend. He reaches for Jeongguk's jaw and begins practicing ventriloquy as he opens and closes it in time with his advice. "I'm. Sorry."

Jeongguk playfully slaps his hand away, "It's not that easy and you know it." He sighs heavily. “Besides. You know me. I already messed up an apology. ”

The smile falls from Jimin’s face. “What happened now? Don’t tell me it’s worse than the balls conversation.”

Jeongguk tents his fingers on either side of his temples and inhales deeply. On exhale he screeches, memory replaying his most recent mistake one more time.

“...That bad, huh?” He frowns, crossing the room to get him a beverage.

Jeongguk runs his fingers through his hair a few times before he snatches the banana milk from Jimin. He’s just gotta focus on something else. Anything else. He starts chugging the bottle, milk spilling from the corners of his mouth.

“Hey, slow down. I’m gonna be sick if you throw that stuff up.”

Jimin reaches for the small, plastic jug but it’s already empty by the time Jeongguk allows him to take it.

Jeongguk whimpers, “Not even banana milk can fix this.”

“Jeongguk. Tell me what happened.” It’s rare that Jimin ever gets stern with any of his friends, but sometimes they have a habit of getting in their own heads. He can pull them out by telling them what they need to hear, even if it isn’t always nice. He’s got a nagging feeling in his gut that this might be one of those times.

His friend leans back into the couch with palms pressed against his forehead. “I whipped a tennis ball across the court, but it fucking went out the door to the hall and hit her while she was walking by.”

“It was an accident!” Jimin insists.

“I know! But she! Doesn’t!” He pounds his hands into his forehead like it can knock the memory from his brain.

“Why not?” Jimin asks, suddenly suspicious. “What did you do when you realized you’d thrown something at someone? You apologized, right? Right?”

Jeongguk grits his teeth a subdued screech in his throat. “I ran over when I heard her scream and I was panicking so I just! I said ‘I’m so fucking sorry!’”

“That’s good--”

“And ‘Are you okay?!’”

“Sounds like you did fine---”

“But my brain couldn’t decide which one to say first so it merged them together! And I screamed at her!”

“Oh no.”

“Are you fucking sorry?! I screamed it Jimin. Are you fucking sorry! All of my students standing there watching me have a mental breakdown when she’s the one hurt.”

He’s practically in tears, damn near hysterical. Jimin offers a sympathetic grimace before going in for a big, comforting hug.

“Jeonggukie, it’s okay.”

“Not it’s not! I can never face her again. I can never face my students again. I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life.”

Jimin squeezes him tighter. “You’ll get through this though. You know how I know?”

“How?” The words are muffled when spoken into the crook of his neck.

Jeongguk has buried himself dangerously close to the spots you’ve been claiming for yourself. He hopes his friend doesn’t notice the red bruises you’ve left behind.

“Because. I can think of a million other things that you’ve done that are way more embarrassing than this. And you’ve lived through them all. If anything your students will see you as someone they can relate to.”

“And Frizzle?”

“You have to do something genuinely nice for her and express your sincerest apologies. Take her somewhere nice for dinner. Admit you screwed up and you want to make things better. Explain how your life is a chain of embarrassing experiences. Tell her some stories of your other fails so she doesn’t think you’re being cruel. If you can’t think of any, I can make you a list. I really do remember things you’ve done that are worse than this, you know. ”

“No! No. I guarantee I’ve blocked them out for a reason.” The black-haired man sighs. He seems to at least be comforted by the thought that the situation isn’t totally unsalvageable. He stands with a lopsided smile. “Thanks, Jiminie. I love you.”

Jimin’s mouth curls into a smile as he goes in for one more hug. “You never forget to pay me, Jeonggukie.”

Jeongguk steps across the threshold and is greeted by the very woman he’s been complaining to Jimin about for the better part of an hour. Every muscle in his body tenses and freezes in place. She’s just come out of the apartment next door. Jimin cocks his head at his friend, curiously watching the blatant change in body language.

“What is she doing here?” Jeongguk hisses at Jimin like the woman isn’t standing close enough to hear.

“Of course you’d be here. Don’t worry, Mr. Jeon, I’m on my way out, unless you’ve got something else to pile on to my hazing?”

Jeongguk clamps his mouth shut and tries to move out of her way, but she moves in the same direction. Both of them immediately try to go around, mirroring each other’s actions. This must be her. Jimin rubs his temple as he watches the awkward dance Jeongguk and “Frizzle” do as she tries to move past him. For a tall, muscular guy, Jeongguk seems to shrivel in stature the longer he stands there looking at her, stuttering out half of an apology before finally gripping her shoulders like he’s going to pick her up.

“Please let me go,” he murmurs, swallowing hard, despite the fact that he’s the one with his hands on her.

Jimin runs his fingers down his cheeks like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Jeongguk’s aloof nature seems to have been amplified tenfold by the presence of this woman, which is an impressive feat. He’s got it so bad for this girl he really can’t think straight.

Jeongguk takes a deep breath and books it down the hallway, forgetting about his friend entirely. He gets to the stairwell and hunches over the bannister to screech like a pterodactyl, hoping to release some of the anguish tearing at his chest. He sighs, composing himself as he ascends the steps, patting his pockets for the comfort of escape. His heart drops. That familiar jingle of keychains and metal is missing. “My keeeeeeys!”

It’s then he realizes he’s going to have to walk back past you in shame to collect the missing item from Jimin’s apartment. Jimin wishes he could undo all of the secondhand embarrassment he just experienced. Being that this will be burned into his memory for some time, he slinks into your apartment for a healthy dose of distraction.

The scent of cinnamon and vanilla hang in the air. You've been baking to keep yourself busy. You thought about asking your guild if anyone wanted to play online for a bit, but you really weren't in the mood for video games. You knew what to expect and yet you still find yourself disappointed by the lack of Holiday cards and letters.

Even if they don't give a shit about you, you still find your heart breaking, wishing you could know if your parents are doing okay. Maybe they're finally getting better. Maybe they're finally getting that divorce they desperately need. You whisk the batter, losing yourself in a sea of possibilities, regardless of whether it matters in the first place.

Then again, maybe they're doing better now that they don't have you around to use as a point of contention. They could be happy now that the supposed source of their misery is absent from their life. Your jaw tightens along with your grip on the mixing bowl cradled in your arms.

They probably don't think about you at all. How many times had you walked back from school alone in the dark because they forgot to pick you up? How many times had they straight up forgot you existed? They don't care. They don't even think about you. In fact, they're probably so drunk mom is passed out on the couch and dad is in a similar position in his office with a bottle of scotch and a nub of a burnt out cigarette hanging from his mouth.

You're mixing quickly, scraping loudly against the ceramic bowl in an attempt to drown out the anger in your head. It might not be enough to cover your incessant thoughts but it sure as hell camouflages Jimin's approach.

You bite your lip, white hot tears stinging the corners of your eyes. It's stupid. Why do you care so much when they obviously don't? You feel manic having the day off of work. There's too much time to think now that you don't have your customers to dote on and care for. You don't realize how slippery your fingers are now that they’re coated in a layer of sweat. The bowl slips from your hands and shatters against the floor, coating your floor and feet in a pasty splatter of dough.

“Are you okay?” Jimin asks, scooping his arms around your waist and dragging you away from the mess.

You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel his embrace pulling your backwards, voice vibrating in your ear. You stumble backwards, losing traction over the spilled batter. He’s careful to get you away from the shards of glass littering the kitchen tile as you fall.

“I thought you had work to do,” you say, embarrassed by your lack of finesse.

“I finished up early. I… knocked but you didn’t answer,” he replies, taking a moment to inspect your face.

The mixture intended for cookies haphazardly sprinkles your cheeks and your eyes are still glossy from the tears gathered in them moments ago.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concern dripping from the two simple words.

You hate making him worry so you force a counterfeit smile to split your lips. “Nothing!”

“I can tell you’re lying,” he insists, wiping your face with his fingers. “It’s okay. You can talk to me.”

You hang your head low and press into his shoulder. “I was just thinking about my family. Please. It’s not important.” Another phony smile adorns your features as you look up at him. “But I’d like it very much if you could take my mind off it.”

He offers a warm smile and decides not to press further. He knows enough of your past to know you’d rather not speak on it unless you’re the one offering information. Despite the curiosity nagging at the corners of his mind, he plants a kiss on your lips instead. “Any requests?”

“Take me away from my own brain.”

He giggles, ready to make you forget every word you’ve ever learned that’s not his name, but he pauses, briefly recalling the reason he stopped by in the first place. “Oh wait. I wanted to ask you about that.”

You half-laugh, half-scoff. “It’s okay. I’ve accepted there’s no escape.”

Jimin shakes his head at you. “No, I mean would you like to get away from here for the night? My friends and I go to Taehyung’s parents’ cabin every year on New Years Eve. It’s like a little tradition.”

You blink at him. “Oh you mean Mr. Kim--er,” you correct yourself when he cringes. “Tannie’s dad? Wouldn’t it be weird if I showed up? I don’t want to intrude… And I would feel so awkward not knowing any of your friends.”

“They’re all really laid back. They’re like an extended family. Let me tell you about them,” he suggests, twining his fingers in yours and waving your hands around. “The drive to the cabin takes a couple hours. That’s plenty of time to give you a history lesson.”

“I don’t know…”

“You know,” he begins, swiping his batter-coated finger with his tongue. “Granny says it’s good luck when you kiss someone you love on New Year’s Eve at midnight.”

You roll your eyes, fighting the cheesy grin you feel coming on. “Is that so?”

He nods enthusiastically, sparing a glance at the shards of glass and spilled batter scattered across your kitchen floor. “Besides, what better way to keep your mind off of... everything?”

The man can be subtle when he wants to be, but you still follow his line of sight to the mess creeping down the slight slope in the tile.

“I have to sweep this up,” you mumble, ignoring giving him a finite answer as you cross the room to gather cleaning supplies.

There’s a protest caught in his throat that dies the moment you bend over to search for the dustpan in the closet. He saunters over, licking his lips and letting his fingers dig into the soft flesh at your hips. Your eyes go wide as his length presses against your ass, already half hard. He offers a playful thrust as a joke, but if you drop your pants then the joke part of that thrust is totally cancelled. You sigh loudly and arch your back, slowly rising to looking over your shoulder at him. He swears time stops for a moment as half-lidded eyes chant his name without you saying a word.

“I really have to clean this up. It’s wet. The-The spot on the floor is wet.” You stumble over raspy and frantic words, all the moisture missing from your mouth. He tests your resolve by sneaking a finger below the band of your jeans, skirting his digits just outside of your underwear before pressing the silky fabric into your clit. With just a few slow circles, he has you moaning and weakly leaning back against him for support.

“You’re right. It’s a little wet. I should help you clean this up, don’t you think?” His breath is hot against your neck as he dips his hand lower, sneaking along your pantyline before pushing the barrier aside to dive in your cunt without warning.

You’re practically melting as he pumps his fingers into you, tongue dragging over your neck in a teasing swipe. It takes all of your willpower, but you grip his forearm with a groan. “You’re evil.”

“I’m Charming,” he insists with a grin, complying with your unspoken request to abandon his endeavors.

“I need to clean this before it gets in every last crack.”

Jimin opens his mouth to say something crass but gets distracted by your smiley kiss.

“We’ll get to that later. Go. Sit over there,” you instruct, pointing to the empty chairs on the other side of the bar-style counter.

He sulks over to the counter and sits with a huff, planting his elbows on the edge and resting his cheeks on the flat surface of his palms. It’s hard to ignore his bottom lip protruding in a pout as you get to work cleaning the mess you’ve stupidly made. Hard, but not impossible.

When it’s clear you’re ignoring him, he sits up straight and folds his arms over his chest, a puff of air passing his lips as he takes in his surroundings. Suddenly, his eyes zone in on the familiar form of a package containing delicious pastries only made in one shop.

“Mistledough? You went to Mistledough?” he asks excitedly. You must have met Jin, if that’s the case.

You laugh, “Oh yeah. I stopped in to get some baked treats for the pups a couple weeks ago and this smooth-talking guy comes out from the back with a big smile. His shoulders are so big and his waist is so tiny that he looks like a dorito. Right? Anyway he’s doing this whole bit about how good this stuff is and how happy he gets when pretty girls come into his shop to order it. He definitely knows how to advertise because I bought a whole package of them without even trying it first. It’s… so good though. Have you ever had it? What I have now might be a little stale, but I’m sure it’s still fine to eat. Do you want some?”

You poke your head above the counter to see Jimin’s arms crossed over his chest. He isn’t looking at you but he definitely looks annoyed. Is he seriously still pouting because he has to wait ten whole minutes to put his fingers back in you?

“No,” he pouts quietly, entire demeanor flip-flopped in an instant. “I don’t want any. I know what it tastes like.

You frown, thinking maybe it’s something you said. “Do you not like that place?”

Jimin puffs his cheeks out and removes the thick black frames from his face to clean them with his shirt. “No, that place is fine.”

Anxiety races in your chest, heart snapping in two at the sound of his cold tone. “I’m sorry,” you say, gripping the dustpan tightly like he’s going to break things off. “Is it… Did I do something wrong?”

He catches your eyes, immediately filling his gut with guilt. “Ah, no, no. I’m sorry.” He licks his lips and rolls his eyes away, not wanting to look at you when he admits this. “It’s just… That handsome, wide-shouldered guy... That’s Seokjin. He’s my friend, but--Ah the way you talked about him just now, I got jealous. I’m sorry.”

Relief washes over you like a tidal wave. You cock your head to one side and stand to lean over the counter. No one’s ever been jealous of you before, or in regards to you; it’s kind of baffling that you don’t have the brain capacity to be flattered. “Jealous? Why?”

He spares a look at you and darts his eyes away. “Because.” He sighs loudly and slinks back in his chair. “He’s tall and those big shoulders let everyone know how strong he is. People can look at him and say wow, that guy is so handsome. He just… exudes manliness. Do you know what people say about me?”

The slow blink and the way he swallows tells you that he’s having trouble expressing the distasteful things he must have heard over the years.

“Jimin.” Your fingers grip his chin. “Nevermind what people say. They don’t matter. Do they?”

You tilt your head, trying to get him to look at you, gaze remaining steady on his eyes until he meets it.

“No…”

“You matter. But you’re hard on yourself. Do I matter?”

“Yes…” he breathes, offended that you’d even ask such a question.

“Well then you should listen to me. I’ll tell you what I think. I think you’re sweet and cute. I think you’re sexy and fun. I think I love the beauty of your soul as much as I love your handsome face. I think your height is not a measure of your worth and I’m not sure why it’s important to you, but I will hug you all day every day to remind you that you’re the perfect height to always bury your face in my tits.”

He laughs, visibly relaxing despite the blush creeping in his cheeks. “You’re good to me.”

“I think,” you continue, suddenly feeling shy yourself. “You don’t have anything to be jealous about. This world only has one Jimin. One who is perfect as himself. And I care about him so much that I want to go with him to a cabin where I won’t know anyone because when he’s around, my heart hurts less and the world feels less cold and when I’m with him, despite my paranoia and concerns about being murdered... he makes me feel safe. I love him.”

He smiles sweetly, leaning in to plant a kiss on your lips. “Who’s that Jimin? He sounds amazing. But I’ll have to teach him a lesson for stealing your affection.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head, nuzzling your nose close to his. “You dork.”

“You’re coming with me then?”

“It’s a date, my prince,” you reply with a grin.

“Thank goodness. I already cancelled my ride.”

The snow whips against your windshield wipers. Heat blares through the vents, the radio playing softly in the background. Jimin looks over at you, placing his hand on your thigh. You smile, giving it a firm squeeze and pressing it to your lips while your eyes squint through the blinding white obscuring the road.

“Do you see a sign to get back on the highway?” you ask, trying to bite back the anxiety brewing in your belly.

The “EXIT ONLY” sign responsible for your detour had been obscured by the heavy snowfall. Being that the inclement weather has put you in an unfamiliar area, you’re hopeful that the poorly plowed backroads are a short-lived side trip.

“Don’t worry. There has to be a way to get back on,” he assures you, giving your fingers a squeeze as he squints out the passenger side window. “Oh! That sign says there’s a gas station ahead. Maybe we could ask in there?”

You eye the instrument panel of your dashboard. The needle indicating the fuel level of your tank hovers two lines above “E.” You promptly go back to watching the road, wind whipping snow off nearby trees. You’re taking it slow as you come around a curve, but your tires spin when they hit a patch of ice.

“Oh shit!” Releasing his fingers, you throw your arm up to shield Jimin’s chest as do your best to turn your steering wheel into the skid as the vehicle veers off the side of the road.

The car makes a skewed slide to the shoulder of the road and continues to glide onto the snow-covered grass, coming to a complete stop before hitting any of the nearby trees. You exhale a ragged breath and look over at Jimin.

“Are you okay?”

He nods, carding his fingers through his hair. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” Your response is sturdy, composed, but its foundation is a lie that could come crumbling down at any moment. Shaky fingers reach over to click the hazard button in the unlikely event that anyone else drives by. You haven’t seen another car in over twenty minutes, but it’s still best to err on the side of caution.

“Just icy. Gas station?” you ask, trying to get your bearings. You don’t think the car did a 180 but you’re a little shaken up and could use a break.

Jimin points in the direction the sign indicated. “Not too far, I think. Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nod silently, checking your surroundings as you attempt to back up. The wheels beneath the car spin in endless cycles, bringing you nowhere. You swallow hard, turning the wheel in the opposite direction and trying again as you apply more force to the gas pedal. When the car doesn’t budge, you fear the worst and place it in park. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you slip on a pair of thin gloves and open the door to inspect the terrain.

With your first step outside your stomach drops with your legs on the slippery surface below your boots. You clutch the door but it’s too late; your legs split and you fall to the ground with a painful smack. You can’t help the pained whimper that spills out of your mouth in short, embarrassing bursts. You’ll be fine. You just need a minute.

“Snow! Are you okay?” Hearing your cries, Jimin quickly dons his mittens and gets out of the car.

As soon as he rounds the front of the car, passing the light on the driver’s side, his boots lose all traction. He stumbles forward a bit, trying to regain his footing before his legs finally slip from beneath him. The impact his ass makes on the ground beside you makes you wince. He grimaces, sucking air through his teeth as he leans back. Even still, he reaches out and touches your cheek with a puffy red mitten, opening his mouth to ask if you’re okay but not able to manage anything other than a broken groan.

You look up at him as he leans over you, feeling the fingers trapped beneath the fuzzy mitten at your cheek. Suddenly you start to giggle. Despite not knowing the source, seeing your amusement causes the groan in his throat to transform into a breathless laugh.

“We really are messes, huh?” you say, pulling down on the red scarf adorning his shoulders to bring him down to meet your lips.

His mouth is hot, leaving behind breathy vapors in the air as he sucks your bottom lip, turning the innocent nature of the kiss into something more passionate. Before your brain can register the action, his tongue already propping your mouth open. If the wind wasn’t whipping snow on your exposed cheeks, he might have been able to keep you warm and make you forget your surroundings completely.

Reluctantly you push him back. “Jimin we have to get up. What if another car comes and rear ends us? We would die.”

He sighs, wincing as he struggles to stand on the slippery surface. “Okay, but be careful getting up.”

He circles the car, inspecting for any signs of damage as you crawl on hands and knees towards the front of the car. Placing your cheek on the ground you look beneath to see if anything might be caught underneath. When you both come up empty, you carefully get back in the car.

Jimin looks over at you suddenly, an expression of realization coating his features. “Did you turn traction control off?”

You slowly close your eyes and run cold, wet gloved fingers down your face. “I’m an idiot. I should have thought of that.”

Jimin shrugs and kisses your cheek with a proud smile. “I just passed my driver’s test so it’s all fresh in my mind.”

Before long, you’re back on the road and rolling up to a pump at the gas station. Jimin disappears inside while you work on filling the tank. It’s filling painfully slowly so you start playing with the layer of snow on the top lip of the pump. You begin to gather snow, picking some from the ground and rolling it around to form a tiny, perfect snowball.

The bell on the door jingles as Jimin exits, a look of concentration on his face as he looks up and down the road beside the lot. An abrupt wave of cold shocks his system as a snowball disintegrates against his chin. He looks around for the culprit, but the only person in the parking lot is you. He blinks a few times, realizing you’re cackling like a witch as you screw the cap back on your tank.

Instead of forming his own snowball to throw back, his bottom lip protrudes in a pout and he puffs up like a bird who’s had their feathers ruffled one too many times. He must still be sore from falling. You start to feel guilty and start to apologize as he draws near, pulling him into an embrace. He leans into you, walking you back until you’re pressed against the car. You blush, feeling the weight of his body trapping you as he pushes his mouth onto yours. He removes a glove to fist your hair between his fingers and gives a sharp tug. Once again, he takes the warmth you offer and turns the heat up. Is this what he’s like when he’s annoyed and horny? You’ll remember to be bratty if this is what it earns you.

You pull back a moment, searching the darkness in his eyes for the need buried in them. Pulling his scarf aside, you latch onto his neck with the heat of your mouth, making sure to suck and tease the spot you know drives him crazy. You feel him lean into you with a moan as he swipes his hand erratically over your car. Feeling pleased with yourself, you grind your hips up into him.

You don’t see the snow he’s gathered into a pile on the top of your car, but you sure as hell feel it when swipes it all over the edge with one hand and holds the collar of your coat open with the other. The snow transforms into water almost immediately, leaving icy trails down your back and soaking into your clothes.

You screech against him just as he takes off running across the parking lot, giggling like a madman. He played you. You wiggle what snow you can out of your coat and give chase, gathering snow in your hands as you go. He holds his hands up as if to surrender and repeating a slew of “sorry”s, but something about the way he’s laughing the whole time makes it feel a bit disingenuous. Soft snowballs smash against his legs. You wish you had better aim.

As you move to gather more snow, he’s already firing off the ammunition he’s secretly gathered, pelting your coat with white. Running up to him through the barrage, you find he’s empty and he puts his hands out again. Seeing the snowbank behind him, you push him back into it, allowing a cushion of cold to break his fall. The melody of his laughter rings through your ears as your climb on top of him and sprinkle what’s left of your fistful of powdery snow all over his face.

You’re both laughing so hard you’re crying. After taking a moment to calm his laughter, he sits up on his elbows and removes a loop from the scarf at his neck to drape it around yours.

“Come on. Let’s get to the cabin so we can warm up.”

You wet your lips, the cold immediately freezing your spit. “What you’re not warm?”

“You pushed me into the snow. I’m cold,” he whines.

“You covered me in white,” you say, not thinking about the words until they’re out.

Jimin quirks an eyebrow with a knowing smile. “I thought you liked that. You were begging for it yesterday, weren’t you?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“You’re friends with Hope on the Street? J-Hope? Really?” you ask in disbelief. The guy is somewhat of a celebrity so it’s a little unnerving knowing he’s going to be at this cabin. The segment he did on puppies recently really brightened up your day.

“His real name is Hoseok,” Jimin says with a nod, crunching into a potato chip. “He also goes by Hobi.”

You can’t stop yourself from asking. “That whole dildo thing everyone says? Is it true?”

Jimin coughs out the chip he had been chewing and you immediately apologize, but he laughs. “What have you heard? I’m not much of a gossip.”

You shake your head defensively. “I’m not either! It’s just… There are so many rumors. I’ve heard it was a vibrator, cucumber, a cordless mic… And it’s always an absurd length, like twelve inches or something like that.”

Jimin laughs so hard he snorts. “Oh my god. No! Okay, I’m going to tell you the truth, but you can’t tell anyone I told you, okay?”

“...Okay,” you agree, not realizing the pit you’ve fallen into.

“If you promise you won’t tell…” he trails, looking out the window.

“I pinky promise,” you say as you stick out your little finger. You’re too curious now. You have to know.

“Don’t let on that you know, either,” he continues as he links his pinky with yours and looks over at you. “Promise?”

Your eyes dart over to his for a split second before focusing back on the road. “I promise, my prince.”

He smiles, taking the opportunity to hold your hand while he talks. “Hmm. By the time we get there hopefully you’ll feel like you know them a little. I’ve told you some pretty tame stories so far but… The truth is that we’ve all known each other since we were kids. So I know all of their dirty laundry.”

He wiggles his eyebrows at you even though you can’t pay attention to his suggestive facial expressions. Why do you feel like you’re getting more than you bargained for?

“You’re such a dork. Just tell me about J-H--Hoseok.”

“So impatient,” he teases with a sigh. “I mean honestly it’s not that bad. Hoseok and his girlfriend, Cat, have been together for a while now. They were… experimenting in the bedroom together. The dildo they were using was pretty small and she lost her grip on it. That’s really all there is to it. Someone must have heard him talking to the nurses.”

That makes total sense. Of course everything gets blown out of proportion. Poor guy.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t let it get to him at all. He keeps a smile on and can talk around pretty much everything. But when you put him with Cat, together? They have no shame and if you’re not careful they’ll drag you into their filthy games.”

“Have they dragged you into them, Jimin?” you ask with a smile, genuinely curious with a side pang of envy. Whoever is dating someone as fine as J-Hope must be hot as hell. Just imagining Jimin being thrown into that mix has you salivating, wishing you could have been the meat in that sandwich instead.

“Maybe,” he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “B-But that was a long time ago.”

“Too bad,” you suck your teeth. “Sounds like it could be fun.”

Jimin’s eyes go wide and he swallows a nervous laugh, not wanting to accept the possibility so easily if it was only meant as a joke. “I mean if you’re interested I can always ask if they might want to.”

You laugh nervously, not expecting that possibility. “I… haha, let me meet them first. They might hate me for all you know. I tend to talk when I get nervous and then mess everything up.”

“It’s part of your charm. You’re cute when you get shy. You have this… innocence that’s endearing. They’ll love you. You’d probably be their new favorite... toy...” he trails off into a breathy whisper, losing himself in some daydream.

“Are you sure you won’t get jealous?” you ask, snapping him back to reality. “Mistledough man had you so moody.”

“Ah, Seokjin. You know, I once caught him jerking it to a muffin.”

You blink a few times. “Seokjin is the bakery dorito,” you affirm, keeping your eyes on the highway. “And you caught him jacking it … Jimin. Tell me mistledough is cum-free.”

He laughs. “Seokjin would never. Don’t worry. It wasn’t at the bakery.”

“But… why…?”

“I don’t know. I never received any context for it and I was too afraid to ask. Honestly, I think it’s his messed up relationship with his ‘not girlfriend.’” He uses air quotes to signify his distaste for the situation. “Pumpkin. At least he calls her that. Everyone else calls her Grump.”

“Oof. She a bitch?”

“If you were at the shop, you must have seen her.”

You pause to recall the day you’d stopped in. “There was this one girl that was staring at me but I figured it might be someone I knew from high school so I avoided eye contact. Got this chill down my spine though.”

“Yeah that’s her. She’s a little rough around the edges, but she’s secretly soft on the inside. She just needs time to warm up to people. I think she has a hard time showing affection. We’ve all known her almost as long as we’ve known each other. She just needs to get laid. Scratch that. She needs to get laid by Jin. They’ve been dancing around it for over a decade, Snow. Imagine if you and I never… for over ten years.”

You exhale air through puffed cheeks. “I’d have moved on after two. You’re lucky you made a move when you did.” You give his hand a playful squeeze. “Why haven’t they yet?”

“They’ve both been in love with each other for so long I think they’re blinded by it now,” he guesses with a shrug. “They’re so in love that they can’t even see it anymore. Maybe they never did. But there’s always this air of jealousy that makes it impossible for either of them to be happy with anyone else. I should probably sit them both down and talk them through it, but sometimes Seokjin… Ah, he closes his ears to anything he doesn’t like. Maybe this year will be different. She always comes so if you think she’s glaring at you, she probably is, but don’t take it personal.”

You nod in quiet contemplation for a moment before moving on. “Tannie’s dad?”

“Ah. Taehyung. He’s probably my closest friend. Don’t tell the others. Him and Star have been together since college and are so perfect for each other it makes my heart ache. They’re really… unique. It’s okay if you think they’re weird because they are. But that’s their charm. They listen to really old records and wear vintage clothes and talk about art all the time. It used to make me cringe at first but now it makes me happy. It’s probably because I don’t live with him anymore.”

You spare a curious glance at him “You lived with him?”

“Roommates right after high school. Before he went off to art school and got his degree. Then I went off to uni for business and marketing.”

“Ah, right. College. That thing that most people do after highschool. I’m dumb.”

Jimin frowns, knowing it’s a sore subject for you. “You’re not dumb. Be nice to yourself. It’s not your fault you never got a chance to go.”

Your fingers grip the steering wheel tightly, enough so your knuckles pale. “I know I’m not dumb. I could have been a vet by now. I was smart enough for it. I could have done it.”

He reaches out to place a reassuring palm on your shoulder. “You can still go back, you know.”

You shake your head, swallowing the bitter pill that you missed your chance for that kind of life. Things are different now. You like your job. You like your life. You don’t need to use schooling as an escape from your home. Maybe it’s time to let go of the resentment. You can still be smart and not go to college. You can still enjoy a job that doesn’t require a degree.

“I need to work on not being so bitter about my past,” you answer with a shake of your head. “I like where I am now and if I don’t, I can always change. Thank you for helping me remember that. So.. where were we? Taehyung?”

“Ah, I caught him sucking on her toes once,” he says very matter-of-factly.

“What?!”

“When he moved out and told me about his roommate, I thought he’d be living with another man. He invited me over to meet them. Imagine my surprise when I came by. The door to his room was wide open and he’s sitting there licking up the bottom of her foot, putting her toes in his mouth.”

“What did they do when they saw you standing there?” you purse your lips, wondering if Jimin had been a part of this couple’s sex life as well.

“Oh, they tried to laugh and play it off like ‘Oh no we were messing around... it’s not like that... Why would be doing something like that? Da da da.’ All the excuses, you know? But I saw it and I can’t unsee it. He had a boner and she looked like she was enjoying it.” He shakes his head.

“I still think it’s funny you know him. He pampers Tannie. A lot. Like he spends an absurd amount on that dog. He loves him so much. It’s so cute. Wait… Does that mean you know other Mr. Kim? Moni’s dad?”

Jimin looks over. “You know Namjoon too?”

“This isn’t so bad. I’ve at least seen these people,” you say, mostly to yourself as a comforting thought. “Actually, I gave him a dog treat for Moni and he just… Jimin, he ate it right in front of me. I didn’t know what to do so I just smiled.”

Jimin start roaring with laughter. “That sounds like Namjoonie. At least that was edible. I watched him drink perfume once. He said it smelled so good he wanted to see what it tasted like. I’m not sure how drunk he was, but he had to be pretty far gone. You know he’s really intelligent, but he makes some really bad decisions. He will deny this until the day he dies, but I was there for his ‘bad boy’ phase back in high school. He purposefully failed classes because he thought it made him look cooler and he’d always brag about blowing off dates with girls and pretending to be a loner. Not to mention he always wore some kind of black t-shirt with a fake deep quote on it, he had a leather jacket, painted his fingernails black, had a mohawk...”

“Really? That guy? Did he have a motorcycle too?” you snicker. “That would really sell it for me.”

“He may have painted blue flames on the side of his bicycle,” he jokes. “Do I have to worry about him stealing you too?”

You roll your eyes. “Tell me about another one and I’ll tell you who’s the most dangerous. Right now, you’re still winning.”

“Yoongi looks the most intimidating. He looks like a bad boy, covered in tattoos and piercings. He even has his dick pierced. I’ve seen it. Yes, it looks painful. People say he comes off as cold, but he’s really not.”

“Like Grump?”

“Hmmmm… Different. Have you ever heard of Inkspires? It’s the tattoo shop across town.”

You think for a moment. It’s not like you live in a big city, but you’re not sure you’ve ever had a reason to go to such a place. You rack your brain trying to think of the place he’s talking about. When you shake your head, he seems a little sad.

“Don’t worry. You’ll know them once I’m done. I’m working on rebranding them. Pro bono. I’m working to make it something everyone will recognize. Jisoo’s got a lot of ideas and I’m excited to bring them to life. It will take some time, but I think it will be worth it.” He smiles. “I think he might be bringing his new girlfriend. What did he call her? Plum? Melons?” He snaps his fingers. “Ah, Peaches.”

“Peaches?”

Jimin shrugs. “They started dating recently. I don’t have all the details yet. It’s kind of a big deal. He usually doesn’t bring a date. He usually doesn’t date. And unless something has changed-- which I don’t think it has-- he's still a virgin.”

Your mouth falls open. “Really? How? I mean, that’s kind of impressive, honestly. The world is so busy trying to sell sex. How do you keep away from it?”

Jimin shakes his head. “Trust me, I know. My whole business is embedded in it. I guess he’s never had anyone he really wanted to share the experience with. I told you, he’s a real soft-hearted guy. He works part time at Construct-a-Cub during the holidays. He donates a lot of stuff to charities for children.”

“Wow. He sounds like a really good person,” you say, genuinely stunned by the kindness people can show.

“Don’t be fooled. He’ll tell you he hates kids. Secret softie. But similar to Grump, if you think he’s being cold, he’s probably just wary. Give him time and he’ll warm up to you. Keep an open mind. And don’t judge a book by its cover.”

You nod. “Of course.”

“He’s the one who actually did my tattoo and piercings.”

“I meant to ask about those…”

“Tae, Guk, and I decided we were all gonna get them right after college. Kind of a celebration pact type thing. Tae chickened out after watching us go and since he already paid for it, Star ended up getting hers done in his place.”

“Ouch,” you hiss through your teeth, mentally conjuring the level of endurance that might take.

“It really wasn’t that bad.” He laughs. “I was surprised by how little it hurt compared to what I imagined.”

“Did you watch?”

“Hmm?”

“Star getting hers done.”

Jimin licks his lips and stares out the window with a shy smile. “Yoongi offered to kick everyone out, but she insisted we stay. Tae didn’t talk to us for a week. He’s a baby sometimes. He knows she only has eyes for him. I think she’s an exhibitionist. Don’t be surprised if you catch her walking around naked.”

You hold back a snort with a pang of irrational jealousy. “What? For real?”

“I’m joking. Kind of. She’s soft and sweet and as a couple they’re pretty reserved. But I’ve heard them competing with Cat and Hobi for loudest cabin sex.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “And I guess that just leaves Jeongguk. Where do I start? He keeps humiliating himself in front of his coworker. He’s got a big crush on her but his brain just melts any time he’s close to her. For instance, he started going on about how heavy it is to carry around his balls. He kind of put his foot in his mouth, since he was talking about soccer balls. You know, he kind of reminds me of you. Almost like you’re related.”

“Jimin!” You choke on your own spit, trying to focus on the lines separating the lanes.

Jimin raises his eyebrows, feigning innocence. “What?”

“How did you know?”

“Well, it’s pretty boring actually. After I came out of your apartment covered in your juices, he accused me of eating someone’s pussy. I showed him a picture of you and he told me you guys are cousins.”

“Okay forget I asked. Please don’t say any more,” you plead, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “I can’t believe this shit. Why are you friends with my cousin?... That means… That Taehyung… oh fuck. I’ve been playing video games with Mr. Kim for years. Oh god. I’ve been talking about you to both of them in-game. Oh god, this is so weird. Let’s go back to when I didn’t know my cousin has been friends with my boyfriend for literal years. Our town is small, but how fucking small is the world when I moved from the city and I’m still dating my cousin’s friend?”

Jimin smiles. “It doesn’t bother me. Does it really bother you? He’s happy for you.”

You bite your lip. “It’s just weird. I’ll need to adjust to the fact that you two know each other at all. Oh my god. I should have known. In-game. He named his pet Tannie. God, I’m so stupid!”

After a minute of listening to the soft sounds of the radio, he looks over and asks, “Am I still winning?”

“I don’t know. Yoongi’s sounding pretty sweet right now.”

He gasps, acting surprised by your answer. “No,” he whines.

You twine his fingers in yours and bring them to your lips. “Don’t worry. I’m yours and yours only. I belong to one charming, snake of a prince. What are your secrets anyway?”

“You really want to know?”

You cock your head to one side and spare a fleeting glance at him. “Spill ‘em.”

“You have to promise not to tell.”

You smile, seeing the exit you need to take quickly approaching. “If you tell me I’ll wrap these lips around your cock when we get there. Wherever you want.”

“...That’s not a promise, Snow.”

“I guarantee you it is.”

You shiver as Jimin wraps his arms around you, sinking his chin into the crook of your shoulder. A heavy sigh reverberates against your ear as he presses his hardening length into your ass. “So?”

“So what?”

“Not too awkward right?” he confirms, holding your waist and swaying back and forth.

“Yeah, I almost forgot my cousin showed up with my bestie. Definitely don’t want to be around to hear them go at it. I really don’t need that image in my head. How far is our room from theirs?” you ask, reaching behind you to run your fingers across his pants in the place he needs you most.

He inhales deeply and purses his lips for a moment. “I don’t know. We change it up every year. First come...” He hikes your dress up and slides his hand over your thigh, teasing the sensitive bud beneath your panties. “First served.”

You groan as he licks a line from your collarbone to your ear.

“What do you think? Now that we’ve had dinner, can I have dessert?”

You shiver and turn your face to give him a quick peck.

“Mmm I don’t know. Maybe I want dessert,” you counter, licking your lips and sparing a glance down to the place your fingers are massaging.

A whine rumbles up and out of his throat as his hands roam the exterior of your dress, gliding up your sides until he’s cupping your breasts in his palms. “You make this dress look good.”

Deft fingers play with the button on the back of your neck, making quick work of the zipper concealed beneath. The fabric of your party dress falls away from your body and pools around your feet. “But it looks better on the floor.”

He doesn’t give you time to ruminate on how exposed you feel. He’s already spinning you around and pushing you towards the guest bed you’ll be sharing for the night. As you fall back against the cold comforter, he’s working the buttons off his shirt. Not fast enough. You’ve been wanting this all day. The notches on his belt are so small the buckle gets stuck; you nearly snap the metal with how quick your fingers are moving. He offers a surprised gasp as you drag his boxers down with his pants, thick cock springing free from its confines

You pump him with your hand once before taking him in your mouth. His hands, which had been fumbling with the last button on his shirt, fist in your hair as you bob up and down over his shaft. It takes all his restraint, but he tightens his grip with a moan and pulls you off him. You give him a confused pout, trying to move your mouth close enough to take him back in. He allows you to move forward just a little, your lips ghosting over the tip before he yanks your hair to force you to behave.

“You said it could be wherever I choose,” he murmurs, losing himself in the way you’re flicking your tongue out in attempts to coax him back into your mouth.

“So where do you want me, baby?” You want him so bad. You need him. And from the way he allows you to brush your lips against him again, he feels the same. You lick your lips in anticipation, causing a shiver to wrack his body as it passes over every sensitive nerve ending on the head of his throbbing cock. “Please.”

With just a word, he allows you to take the tip in your mouth, tongue gliding across every last bit you’ll give. He bites his lip hard and reluctantly shakes his head, pulling you back again. “Not yet. I want to make you sing first.”

“What am I singing?” you confusedly ask, knowing full well you’re probably tone-deaf. But you’ll do anything he requests if he’ll let you suck his dick without being a total tease.

He giggles, watching the desperation in your eyes cloud your understanding. Leaning down, he presses his lips to yours and slips his tongue between them, tasting the faint traces of himself left behind.

“Sing my name,” he pleads between open-mouthed kisses, hands sliding around to cup your jaw. “It sounds like heaven spilling from your lips.”

He pulls back long enough for your eyes to flutter open and see the love coursing through every last bit of his soul. He reaches down and splays his hands over your hips, thumbs curling around the band of your red panties before working them down your thighs in a playful wiggle. You pop open the last button on his shirt as he plunges a finger into you.

“You’ll ruin your shirt if you don’t take it off now,” you say, a not so subtle attempt to get him to remove it so there’s only skin touching skin.

He rolls his eyes, shaking the fabric from his arms. “Take your bra off for me?”

You discard the undergarment quicker than his shirt can fall to the floor, pulling his body down on top of you so you can feel that closeness you’ve grown accustomed to sharing.

“Jimin, I want you,” you whimper, running your fingers through his hair as he clamps his mouth down on your neck. That elicits a moan from him against your throat as he sucks a line of kisses down to a softened nipple.

“Yours would look good pierced,” he comments, squeezing both with his fingers before moving his hands to massage the flesh surrounding them.

“I’m good,” you laugh, watching the fascination in his eyes as your nipples pebble at the loss of the pleasurable pressure.

He hums a sound of indifference, pushing your tits together and burying his face between them. He’s sure to dip his tongue in the cleavage he’s created for his own benefit.

“Get up here. I miss you,” you whine, twining your fingers in his hair and guiding him back towards your mouth.

His mouth hungrily crashes down on yours and has you gasping for more in seconds. “Please… fuck.” He sucks your bottom lip through his teeth. ��Jimin, please fuck me.”

His breath is haggard on inhale as he allows your lip to snap back to you. “But I haven’t even made you cum yet. What kind of boyfriend would I be?”

You take his hand and direct it to the slick, sticky juices coating your sex. “An amazing one. You make me wet without even trying.”

Jimin gasps, sliding two fingers past your lips and filling your pussy just to be sure you could take him. He pops his fingers out of you and brings them to his mouth, rutting the tip of his dick against your clit. Your body spasms as he rubs the entirety of his shaft against you. He grins when you lock your arms around his back and dig your fingernails into his muscles.

“You sure you don’t want me to make you cum first?” he offers again with a roll of his hips.

“I want your cock inside me now,” you whisper in a low, raspy tone, hot breath tickling his ear.

His hips stutter as he draws his pelvis back and you feel his tip teasing the heat of your entrance. When he pauses, you roll your hips beneath him, enticing him to continue his journey as the head circles your labia. Unable to exert any more self control, he sinks into you in a slow descent until he’s buried in you to the hilt. You both let out a held breath and moan against each other pitifully.

“Shit! Sorry!” Suddenly he pulls out and scrambles off of you like you’re made of lava, crossing the room and rifling through his bag. When he turns around, he's tearing the condom wrapper with his teeth, a sight you’ve grown so accustomed to seeing you should have known you were skipping a step.

“At least you remembered,” you sigh, getting into a comfortable position against the pillows. “I probably would have let you cum in me.”

“Now you tell me,” he jokes, dragging the condom down his shaft with ease.

“This isn’t the olden days, you know. Women have birth control,” you tease, spreading your legs and rubbing circles into your clit as he climbs on top of you.

“Oh so you want me to rip this condom off and fill you with my cum? Watch it drip down your leg when we join everyone at midnight?”

The thought turns you on more than it should. You increase the speed and pressure of your fingers against your clit. “Yes…” you whine.

He leans back on his knees as he slots himself between your legs, pressing his sheathed cock into you as you touch yourself for him.

“You want everyone to know you’re mine, don’t you?” he asks, thrusting himself up into you at a steady pace.

“Yes, Jimin…”

“All that sweetness. That innocence. You want everyone to see what a bad girl you really are. You want to show off for them, show them your pretty pussy. Full of my cum. Don’t you?”

You’re so fucking close. Everything he says is just getting you more worked up and you whimper, nodding like you’re a bobblehead without a brain.

“Say it, Snow,” he demands, slowing his pumps to a stop.

“Please,” you beg, desperately wiggling your hips to feel him again. “Please fuck me. I want you to show everyone how well you fill this tight pussy.”

“Oh, that’s it baby. Touch yourself for me. You getting off thinking about that?” He grunts as he resumes fucking himself into you, slinging your legs over his shoulders to hit deeper without hindering your ability to touch yourself. “I want you to tell me. Tell me who owns this fucking pussy.”

You clench around his cock, not used to hearing such filth come from his mouth.“This pussy is yours, Jimin. Use me like your little fuck toy.”

He tenses, throbbing inside you as he growls,“Tell me you’re my cumslut.”

With one hand pressing circles into your clit and the other squeezing your breast, you search his face, hoping to find yourself in it. You’re so far gone you can’t even register the lewd sounds of pleasure spewing from your mouth.

“Use your words. You can do it,” he whispers, beaming with pride.

“I’m... your cumslut,” you whisper between frenzied panting. “Fuck. Jimin. I’m close.”

He slows his pace, bending himself over you to move in for a messy kiss. “Such a good girl, my little cumslut. Squeezing my cock with that tight pussy… Want me to fuck you raw, don’t you?”

“Fuck. Yes. Fuck me raw baby. You feel so fucking good. I want you to cum inside me,” you confess loudly, not caring who might hear. “Take it off, baby. I want you to fill this pussy. Leave me dripping...”

His mouth comes crashing down on yours again, muffling the sounds of your obscene begging. “That’s too bad. Because I’m gonna fill that pretty, filthy little mouth instead.”

Your climax hits you faster than you can vocalize it. “I’m…”

You gush around the cock pistoning into you and when he feels your walls clamp down, he stays inside to subject himself to the delicious torture of every twitch and pulse you deliver.

“That’s it, princess. Good girl,” he whispers, sweetness in his voice returning.

His forehead drops against yours and he rides out your high with you, pressing his lips to yours until your hands fall limp against the mattress.

“That was…” you pause, heavy breaths mingling with his. “...amazing.”

“You still want dessert?” he questions with a grin.

“Finally. Give it to me,” you plead, kissing his lips again and again.

“Not here,” he whispers, a devilish smile gracing his features.

The water is warm and inviting. The bubbles bursting from the jets below offer pressure in all the right spots in all the right ways. How he had convinced you to enter the jacuzzi with him completely naked is beyond you. You’re terrified someone might walk in, but he assures you everyone is lost in their own world.

You lean forward, pressing your tits together as he positions his dick between them and starts with lazy thrusts. You stare up at his fucked out expression, savoring the way his jaw hangs open as he watches his cock slip between your wet breasts. A shy smile crosses your face when you realize he’s looking in your eyes rather than at the lewd act of his shaft sliding between two perfect mounds. He’s lost, a disoriented smile setting up camp in the corners of his mouth.

You look down and stick your tongue out to brush the head of his cock every time it comes up towards your face. He slots his fingers in your hair, curling strands into his fist.

“Do you want to fuck my throat?”

He nods weakly, guiding you back against the seat of the jacuzzi. You pump your fist over his cock a few times as he towers over you. Relaxing your jaw, you take him to the base, tongue wiggling against his balls. He loses his footing for a moment, slipping against the bottom of the hot tub.

“Maybe you should sit down,” you suggest, his dick coming out of your mouth with a loud pop.

“Can you hold your breath for that long?” He sounds unsure, even as he’s settling in the space across from you.

“Think of it as an edging session,” you giggle, taking a deep breath and submerging yourself in the water.

When he feels you take him into your mouth again, his jaw goes slack as he stretches out his arms across the side of the hot tub and tilts his head back.

“Hey, did you come alone?” Hobi’s voice breaks his moment of peace.

Jimin panics, hands diving into the water to keep your head beneath the surface. Hopefully the bubbles from the jets will obscure your form. He wracks his brain, trying to think of something to say as he stares blankly at Hoseok and Cat, who are now standing in the doorway with eyebrows raised.

You grip his legs and fight against his hands, shooting up from the water with the grace of someone who just got a bunch of water up their nose and nearly drowned. You cough and sputter, swiping water from your eyes as you see two figures standing in the doorway. Recognizing one as J-Hope, your heart sinks. Jimin mentioned he was running late when he didn’t show up for dinner.

This is how you meet Hope on the Street. Of course it is.

The hot chick next to him must be his girlfriend. Realizing you’re completely nude, you sink down in the water to your chin and smile as sweetly as you can.

“Hi, you must be Hoseok and Cat! Jimin’s told me so much about you.”

Hoseok sputters, laughing with his mouth wide open. You recoil at the sound, wishing the jacuzzi would melt your bones and just leave you to live your life as a puddle from now on.

Cat lightly smacks him in the shoulder. “Yeah, that’s us. We’ll hang out later, give you guys some space. Sorry!”

She shoves her boyfriend through the door, leaving you alone with Jimin.

“I want to die,” you say, clapping your hands to your cheeks. “I wish I had drowned instead.”

“It’s not that bad, really,” Jimin says, pulling you back to his body.

“Hope on the Street just cackled at the sight of me coming up for air after sucking your dick. Hell of a first impression,” you grumble, rubbing your temple.

“We can ‘walk in’ on them later if it makes you feel better,” he suggests with a laugh.

You disappear under the water, picking up where you left off. If they were going to catch you giving him a blowjob, you might as well finish it. The taste of chemicals is already on your tongue; it can’t be for nothing.

“I love you,” he says when you come out of the water for air.

“I love you too,” you murmur, shyly kissing his lips before descending again.

Every time you resurface, he’s waiting, bringing you to his lips with a sweet kiss. You can tell he’s close, but you’re having too much fun popping out of the water to kiss him. Finally, he’s had enough of the edging and has you kneeling in the center of the jacuzzi, sloppily thrusting himself deep into your mouth.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warns. “Is this okay?”

“Mmm-hmm,” you mumble a sound of affirmation against his cock, only choking slightly.

The grunt of his release comes with the bitter tang of his cum hitting the back of your throat as he bottoms out. You swallow it bit by bit, doing your best not to sputter and choke with the way he’s tightly holding the back of your head in place. He loosens his grip and pulls back, catching the tears in your eyes and concernedly swiping at them with his thumbs. You swallow what’s left in your mouth like a champ.

“You okay?” he checks in, settling into the water with you. “That was too much, wasn’t it? I’m sorry.”

You shake your head with a giggle. “I like when you’re rough. I’m just… out of practice.”

“We can work on it then,” he whispers with a grin, pulling you into an embrace.

When he brings his lips to meet yours, butterflies tickle your insides like it’s the first time. You lose yourself in his touch, in his kiss, in his everything. Being with him still feels like a dream. Never in your life could you have imagined loving someone could feel so good, so pure, so right.

“Hey it’s probably almost midnight. Do you wanna go do the countdown with everyone?”

You respond with a nod. “Champagne?”

“Of course.”

He gets out first and you watch the water roll off his body as he extends a hand to help you out of the hot tub. Pruny fingers grasp his, hoping he knows just how much he means. You’re ready to face the new year together and you’re ready to jump into this found family head first.

Heading for the door, you pause, turning back to look at him. “Aren’t you coming?”

With a laugh, he comes up behind you, draping a robe around your naked form. “You might want to put this on.”

What would you do without him? You swallow hard, donning the robe and smiling at him. He links his fingers with yours and you head inside together.

#magicshopnet #smutcentralnet #jimin smut #jimin fic #jimin x reader #jimin x you #BTS smut #jimin fanfic #jimin fluff #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fluff #jimin x oc #jimin angst #bts angst #the snowball effect

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starjunco · 3 years ago

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Okay, little did you know you struck at another of my interests - crochet. I probably won’t be able to do any work until next year probably, but I procrastinated by looking up amigurumi patterns to adapt. I found “Cat Princess” from stuff the body to be a possibility, or actually there are some giraffe patterns that look pretty easy to make into a more feline shape. Thoughts?

*Sticks ‘cat princess amigurumi’ into google.* Oh that reminds me of old fashioned coeurls that were always shown loafing with the nobly raised heads. The pattern is sitting regular instead of all the way down in a loaf, but it’s nice and sleek and prim like that.

Omg the ones that come up for giraffes are cute. Much more traditional teddy-bear form plush.

I’ve haven’t done much amigurumi yet, mostly I’ve just done blankets. (But while we’re talking about crochet, did you see the granny square blanket created recently for Cor?!) I wouldn’t know alot about how to modify patterns. I’d guess you could modify the tail like in the cat princess one to use for the whiskers? I’m not good at estimating the size of things, but it probably look weird to do them really long especially since it’s stylized anyway. Maybe half the length of that one? The cat princess pattern has a nice shape with the head, so I think if you were to put them right behind the ‘cheek bones’ they might sweep back. For the giraffes...actually you might be able to get away pretty well just moving the horns. With as cute and kiddy as many of those are, it’d be tempting to do something fun with them like leave the firm part about that length and then put an unplushed part from there so they can move and ‘zap.’ I can just picture some kid tying the two ends together to carry around.

Another option would be to find something with parts already coming off the sides of its head to get inspiration from. The only thing I could think of was trilobites. Not sure how helpful those would be.

It might not look as good with many patterns, but FFXV coeurls have very fuzzy whiskers, so I’d kinda be tempted to try some of that fuzzy/furry yarn...even if I’m afraid I’d regret it. Probably just end up braiding it into glorified garland >.>

When I searched earlier today for coeurl/crochet patterns and didn’t get anything, I looked up regular sewing patterns. Now I’m considering modifying a snow leopard pattern. I haven’t done any sewing before, much less to a pattern...which might be a good reason just to give it a shot.

#coeurls #crochet #amigurumi #plushies #sewing #why don't these exist?#this is all garbria's fault #kinda #coeurls are just too awesome #asks #awlwren

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isnt-it-loverly · 4 years ago

Text

little birdie (4)// five hargreeves

Warnings: blood

Summary: When Five lands in the Sparrow Academy, he must convince one of them to help him reset the timeline.

Word count: 1800

Author note: sorry if this is bad, ive been in a rut as of late. Once again thank you so much for all the love and support. I hope you enjoy :)

part one, part two, part three part five

You knocked softly on the door of apartment 217. An elderly lady opened the door with a bright smile on her face.

“Hello, my little birdie! It's been so long!” She said while pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. The wool of her sweater scratched against your skin, and the smell of freshly baked cookies and wild flowers filled your nose. She pulled away and placed her gaze on Five.

“Oh, you’ve brought a friend!” She added gleefully.

“Yes, Granny, this is um… Aidan! We met at the karate class my father has me in,” You explained. You hated lying to such a sweet old lady, but you knew the truth would be too much for her to understand. Plus you really didn’t have the time to explain everything.

You turned back to Five and have a shrug of your shoulders. He was right, he didn’t need a normal name. Five was just too fitting. She moved closer to him and grabbed his cheek, making him very uncomfortable.

“You’re father is just terrible for making you kids do that! Look how roughed up the pair of you are, come inside and we’ll get you cleaned up” She said solemnly.

Five walked beside you and grabbed your arm firmly. Pulling you to the side he whispered a quick “what the hell” in your ear.

“She thinks she’s my grandma,” you replied bluntly, “just go along with it.”

Five sighed in exasperation, this was not helping him find his siblings. He followed you into the apartment begrudgingly, trusting that you were not just yanking his chain. The old woman excused herself and said she would bake a fresh batch of cookies. After she left you grabbed his sleeve and whispered, “follow me.”

You lead him into a side bedroom. It was small and quaint, very homey compared to the academy.

“Remember when I said that I’ve lived a million lives? Gertrude was one of my first, I got stuck in her mind for weeks, and I learned a lot about her. Her husband died right before I got trapped in her noggin, so I switched some memories then added some new ones. I’ve been visiting ever since,” You explained.

“Do your siblings know?” He asked, worry dripping in his tone.

“Not to my knowledge, I don’t think they’d appreciate me having a life outside the academy,” you answered with a shrug.

Five was utterly perplexed by you. You were an enigma, so eager to trust others, so kind, and selfless. How did you end up so different from the others? He watched as you opened a drawer of the cedar chest that was in front of the bed.

“Sometimes, I like to take things from the people I’ve been. Just as little reminders. I think I have some clothes in here that might fit you,” you said with extreme focus. You pulled out a tee-shirt and jeans, something Five was not accustomed to. He turned his nose slightly.

“I’d rather choke on my own tongue than wear that,” He groaned.

You shook your head in annoyance, pulling out a set of clean clothes for yourself as well. You enjoyed civilian wear, it made you feel normal and secure- something your academy uniform could never.

“Just put on the damn clothes before I make you short stack,” you snapped back. Your eyes glowed s brighter blue for a moment and Five now knew he didn’t have a choice in the matter.

“At least turn your back,” he grumbled in response.

You gave him a small laugh and did as you were told. You crawled to the other side of the bed and slipped on your new clothes as well. After a few minutes, Five gave you the clear.

“Wow, unknit that eyebrow and wipe that frown off your face, and you look almost normal,” You said with a smile.

It was true, he looked like a regular ole teenager. Something you know that he has never been. You give him a look over before your eyes stop at his forearm. An umbrella tattoo, of course, he would have one.

Five noticed you staring, he followed your gaze to his arm. He lifted it so you could see it better, and an ever-present scowl on his face.

“Do you have one?” He asked.

You nodded solemnly and pushed up your sleeve. You placed your arm against his, the bird and the umbrella practically touching. You wondered why your Father loathed them so much and then it was quiet for a moment.

“The houses of Capulet and Montague,” you spoke up in a mocking tone.

“I didn’t ask you to betray your entire family,” He said. His voice was deep and rough, a sense of anger could be detected.

“No, but you really twisted my arm showing me the whole apocalypse thing. I’m an empath idiot, your feelings became mine,” You were quick to snap back.

Five liked that about you. You were nice and helpful, but you also knew when to stand your ground. He could compare you to a coin, two different sides yet well balanced. A perfect equilibrium.

“I’ve helped you,” you murmured, “now I think you owe me.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, curious and intrigued at what you were going to say.

“I’ve only done this once and it didn’t end well. I need you to keep me grounded, do whatever it takes to get me back. My father believes that I can project my consciousness onto someone without looking into their eyes, so I’m going to try to do that to your sister, Allison,” you explained.

“You said it didn’t end well? What happened?” Five asked, very concerned.

“It takes a lot out of me, I couldn’t get into anyone’s mind and it almost killed me,” You confessed.

“I’m sorry, did you say killed?” He responded wide-eyed. It warmed your heart that he was at least concerned about you.

“Look, do you wanna find your family or not? Unless you have a better plan?” You asked with a slight raise of your voice.

Five shook his head, knowing that this was the best plan You sat on the plush bed, curling your fingers around the soft comforter. You took a shaky breath and closed your eyes tightly. Running the fabric between your fingers you counted every stitch. You pictured his sister’s face in your mind, paying extra intention to her eyes. Five watched intently as you did, he was worried about you- you were an important asset and a powerful ally. It would be a shame if you died. Your eyes opened abruptly and to Five’s amazement and horror there was just white and a soft blue emanating from them.

When you opened your eyes again to find yourself sitting at a kitchen table. Looking up you see Allison sitting across from you, intently reading the newspaper. If she was there, then who were you? Looking down and the palms of your hands the words ‘hello’ and ‘good-bye’ were splayed across them.

“Well shit, I’m the pretty one,” You mumbled to yourself. Although you were very glad and very surprised that you had managed to pull this off, you would have to thank your father for the extra training the past few months.

“What are you on about now, Klaus?” Allison said utterly unamused.

“Actually it’s number five. Not your Five, the other five. Sparrow Five. Ya know what I’m rambling, I’m (Y/n),” You spit out quickly. Holy shit this man’s brain was fried. Everything was happening at a million miles an hour, you couldn’t keep up.

You watched as her expression changed, she stood up abruptly in the same fighting stance Five had used earlier. Her eyes watched you like a hawk and if looks could kill you’d be dead.

“Your family killed my brother, now I swear if you harm one hair on Klaus’ stupid head. I’ll end you,” She spat venom dripping in her words.

“He’s not dead! Five is very much alive, and we’re looking for you guys. So all we need is an address and we will be on our way,” You replied with a smile.

“Yeah right, why would I trust you?” She questioned.

“Look, Five is hurt really badly. This astral possession thing is gonna knock me on my ass, I won’t be able to protect him from my siblings. If you don’t help us, well, we’re both already dead,” You said in a somber tone.

You could tell that the gears we’re winding in her head. You felt a pain in your head that radiates in your chest, you coughed slightly and blood appeared on your hands. Shit its starting, you couldn’t stay much longer. You felt blood begin to slowly drip from your nose. Double shit with a cherry on top.

“What are you doing to him?” She yelled.

“Allison,” you choked, “he needs you.”

“Fine, just stop whatever you are doing to him!” She yelled in fear of her brother, Moments later she revealed the address, perfect that’s all you needed. Now you could get back and share your triumph.

You closed your eyes tightly and the world began to spin. Round and round, faster and faster. Until finally, you felt your legs give out but you didn’t hit the floor. You opened your eyes slowly to find yourself in Five’s arms. He was looking down at you, fear present in those emerald eyes. He let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank God, you started pouring out blood like a fountain. I thought you were dead,” He scolded. He sounded like an old man when he spoke, it was almost endearing.

You touched your nose and wiped away some of the fresh blood, staring at it intently. You felt so weak, that was too much and you vowed never to do that again. The cost was far too high. You sat up and you felt Five’s hand on your back- ready to steady you if you need it. You had really scared him, he didn’t know why. He had just met you, so why did the thought of losing you hurt so badly.

“I did it,” You mumbled hoarsely.

“Did what?” Five whispered in a soft voice. The tone was foreign even to him, but right now he felt like you needed a friend and not a sarcastic asshole.

“I found them, I found your family. They aren’t far from here,” You breathed out.

Five hugged you tightly and gave you a sincere thank you. You hugged back gently, you couldn’t remember the last time someone hugged you. It was a feeling you could get used to, warm, secure, and safe. You also couldn’t remember the last time you felt any of those things. Perhaps these umbrellas weren’t so bad after all.

“Come on,” You said breaking away, “let’s get some of those cookies, hit the road, and get you back to the right timeline.”

Taglist: alexander-hamilhoe

#number five #five x reader #five hargreeves #number five x reader #five hargreeves x reader #number five x you #five x y/n #five #Umbrella Academy #The Umbrella Academy #tua #aidan gallagher

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honestsycrets · 4 years ago

Text

Big and Bad | Halloween | [ Wolf!Ubbe x Little Red!Reader ]

❛ pairing | wolf!ubbe x little red riding hood!reader

❛ type | almost one shot

❛ summary | oh, you knew you shouldn’t you knew you couldn’t-- but what if you did?

❛ tags | anthro!themes, sexual overtones but i couldn’t be bothered to fuck, slightly dark ubbe? not really it’s in his nature, little red riding hood redux, easily distracted reader, gluttonous hvitserk.

❛ sy’s notes | it’s slightly musical in quality given my class in fairytales. i wouldn’t think too much into trying to justify little red’s actions, it’s sort of a trope in fairytales.

You know the way to Granny’s house.

It was along the same old cobblestone trail with its same old straight edge path into the forest. No fun divots, no flirting with anyone to see. It was less than a day’s journey if you could ever manage to keep your distracted mind straight; that was.

But there were bouncy bright red flowers along the way, ones that you’d talk to, given the chance. Today, you gave into that chance, skipping with your skirt slapping down your legs until you kneeled before them in leathery laced sandals among a patch of green, green grass.

“There’s a wolf in the woods,” said the first red rose. The second bounced into tension; her roots straining the plush green around her spine. “There’s a big bad wolf in the woods!”

The first two always incited the group, “The big bad wolf! The big bad wolf!”

“Who is to say there is a big bad wolf?” you said. “Maybe he is a good big wolf.”

“No no, no no,” the roses chimed. “Ubbe is a big bad wolf, a big bad wolf prowling the woods!”

Under normal circumstances, the roses were chipper to the excess peels of fruit you’d litter around their spines at the base of the grass. As you gathered up the peels among fresh, hot bread and a pat of bundled butter, you knew that they were afraid of something. Of course, something for flowers could be nothing for humans.

“Oh! You’re overreacting. Ubbe is a good wolf,” you told them. Squealing and receding, the flowers laxed. ”Little flowers?” Quiet as a stone in the pit of the forest, you set the peels about their feet when you felt heavy breath beating against the blood red ribbon on your neck.

“Little red,” the big bad wolf finely said. “Off to Grandmother’s again?”

You hopped up onto your sandals and patted down your gown. You tugged your corset finely down. The wolf stretched out his limbs and claws and stood at length, twisted legs and furry tail, flapping in the dull wind. You nod, stupidly against your mother Aelswith’s words.

“Grandmother Judith is sick in the deep dark woods.”

He turns his face toward the straight road; one of pins, so they said. You never knew the wolf to be a big bad wolf, maybe he was a misunderstood wolf. Then again, with his long claws tipped in red, like the ruddy long braid that slapped down his back, maybe he could be a big bad wolf. “Which road will you take?”

Your tongue smoothed over plush red lips.

“The one of needles,” you answered; not taking the one most traveled, nor the one your mother told you. The one of needles; winding slow through the forest, too slow for any good girl to take. You’d amble through the forest at your own pace.

Who needed your mother anyway?

“Then I’ll take the one of pins,” he said, his wicked smile moving in a curl.

He did so love a hunt.

A big bad wolf living in the woods had to have a little wolf to win what’s meant to be won. Ubbe tracked the short-lived trail across from the opening of the woods; to the deep of the woods where his little wolf ate bones and guts.

“Hvitserk, get up,” Ubbe called to the little golden-brown wolf. Hvitserk, rolling on his back, stood up curiously without his bone in hand. His little brother was a hungry wolf; with a hunger that could never be filled at any time. A hungry wolf; in another sense, his little hine.

“There’s a cabin at the edge of the woods.”

“At the edge of the woods?” Hvitserk asked, “The widow’s cabin?”

“That’s it; with an old hag inside.”

“Old Queen Judith?” Hvitserk trilled, clawing at his small line of hair dripping down his stomach into his thatch of thick hair. Ubbe swats his hand, leaving bright red makes on the side.

“That’s the maid inside. You can gobble her up; if you’ll keep Bjorn busy outside.”

Fat as he was, old blood was bad blood and he knew his brother’s old mind. He’d bother with Hvitserk until the sunset outside. “You’re on the hunt,” Hvitserk noticed at once. It was stupid of Hvitserk, Ubbe thought. He’s always on the hunt for something new.

Princess-- is a taste he hasn’t had yet.

The sun has set behind the thicket of trees past your father’s castle. You don’t look back, not now and not often anyway, as busy as Father was. No hunting to be held on a day where love with Aelswith was to beheld. So you moved through the tall trees and curious concerned animals. Past warning flowers bouncing and brooding: turn back! This isn’t the right road!

But of course, it was the right road; it let you think with an open mind. Back to the wolf who stomped around the wicked forest where your grandmother’s cottage. Peeking through the brambles and tearing up your little hood, you at last found the little cobblestone cottage that night.

Rap, rap. Your knuckles clacked the oaken door.

“Hello? Grandmother? Let me in!”

“Come in,” rumbles, and rasps, and growls a not-so-grandmotherly voice behind the door. Your hands wound around the sheening golden knob and pulled open the busted lock. The door falls heavy behind your back, thick with a wolf’s heady musk inside.

“Grandmother?” you say; and know it’s a lie, there’s no grandmother waiting deep inside. So you set your picnic basket down and unlace your cut up little hood, shaking a thorn or two loose. You settle the bread by jars of slick and thick red blood. Raspberry jam does look so much like blood. “Grandmother are you there?”

“In the back room.”

Should you stay, should you go? You pluck up your gown, stepping around puddles of red, but not making a sound. You pounced over dark stains and touched the curtain of a door. Oh you do so know there’s a monster lying in wait but your belly titillates for just a little more. You draw the weighty red curtains out of your eye; encounter the fearful sight of the wolf sitting on the bed very much alive.

“Oh!” you cup your hand over your ruby red lips. “What big ears you have.”

The wry smile overtakes his face; as if he knows what you know. Your cheeks warm over in soft heat, drawing your finger over your chin; you move closer. Your sandals push up the floorboards in creak, creak, creak.

“The better to hear you with,” he musters. Still as a stone in the forest. His tail thwaps, the only marker of movement in a sodden room. You muster up more.

“What big eyes you have.”

He turns his head now, his darkened claws at his hip, drawing your attention to his naked chest. The ruddy brown hair trailing from his belly button to a pair of neatly constructed trousers; nothing is for naught on the big, bad wolf. Your eyes snap to, catching the big bad wolf in his act; his eyes are wrapped by a thin film of blue where his iris should be. Oh, he watches!

“Better to see you with.”

“What a big… teeth you have,” you moisten your lips and grip your skirt. A step closer and then another, and you’re before him. He’s the source of a heavy musk. One that isn’t as light as the sweet little wolf that you fed muffins to. It’s raw and wrong and right.

He’s silent then, but the wide smile parts to expose his angular canines. He moistens his lips. Oh that you couldn’t hear what haughty nothings he had to say, the better to taste you with.

Ask it, the wolf whispers. His fingers fall from his waist to fiddle with the fine lining of your corset. Your chest rises with dry air. Ubbe, the very big bad wolf indeed, rose his hand up to the expanse of your breast. His claws cut a clumsy and purposeful line across your chest. “O-oohh. Wha… what big hands you have.”

“Better to catch you with.”

And with that you jerk back, he jerks forward. His harsh hand drew you against the bloody wall, pressuring your throat, stripping the silent air from your soft throat. And god; the growing pressure of his claws compressing your neck-- it’s good. You struggle with his hand for air, drawing your nails on top of his long claws. The big bad wolf; the big bad wolf; you’ve been caught by the big bad wolf.

@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys @bluearchersstuff @affectionrabbitt @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage @tgrrose @cookies186 @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim @msmorganforever @destynelseclipsa @soleil-dor

#Ubbe x Reader #Ubbe Ragnarsson x Reader #Ubbe Lothbrok x Reader #Vikings imagines #vikings imagine #viking imagine #vikings x reader #vikings/reader

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livvibee · 4 years ago

Text

Let it Simmer

Pairing: Starker

Rating: Explicit (E)

Notes: This fic fulfills my “edging” square for @starkercestevent 2020 bingo.

Length: 5.5k~

Warnings: underage, Uncle/Nephew incest, oral sex, edging

Read here or on AO3.

Peter was brimming with excitement as he packed his overnight bag. He’d gotten his birthday wish, a weekend visiting his Uncle Tony. “Just us guys,” Peter thought to himself happily. Even though they lived in the same city, his uncle was so busy running Stark Industries that visits were few and far between. Peter missed the one-on-one time with the only male role model in his life.

“Peter! Tony’s here! It’s time to go!” His Aunt May’s voice carried up the stairs to his room. Peter hustled to grab everything he needed and hurriedly zipped the bag after shoving in his clothes. He took the stairs down two a time in his eagerness.

“Uncle Tony!” Peter cried out as he barreled into his uncle’s arms.

“There’s my favorite nephew!” Tony said, wrapping his arms around Peter. “You ready to go kiddo, got everything you need?”

“Yup! I’m ready!” Peter chirped, looking up at Tony, searching his familiar face for warmth and comfort.

Peter reluctantly peeled himself out of Tony’s grip to say goodbye to his aunt. After a thoroughly embarrassing session of hair smoothing and cheek kissing he was released to slide into the passenger seat of his uncle’s Audi.

“So, what are we getting into this weekend?” Peter looked across at his uncle’s defined jawline as he spoke.

“Well, I thought I’d teach you your grandma’s pasta sauce recipe. She taught me for the first time when I was about your age. I know Mom would have loved the chance to pass it down to you herself.”

When they got back to Tony’s penthouse at the top of Stark Tower, they ordered a pizza for dinner and settled into the couch. Peter naturally gravitated into Tony’s side, cuddling up with a full belly with a thick blanket draped over them. As the movie played on Peter relaxed, breathing in the scent of his uncle’s cologne and drifting off to sleep.

Peter was torn from his dreams of confident hands and kind brown eyes on Saturday morning by a gentle rapping at the door.

“Petey? You up, hun? It’s almost ten already.” Tony’s voice called from the hallway.

He blinked up in confusion, realizing he was in his usual guest room in Tony’s penthouse, and not still on the couch. He peeked under the blankets only to find himself in his underwear and shirt from the day before, with a problem. A hard, sticky, pushing-against-his-briefs type of problem.

“Oh, no,” Peter said with dismay, before calling out, “Just a minute, Uncle Tony!”

He’d only been waking up with a boner in the morning for a few months, and it had to happen here and now of all places?

Peter screwed his eyes shut and tried to think of the least sexy things he could. Old Mr. Jenkins down the hall in his 70s workout shorts, stoichiometry, Mrs. Whitehead’s too thin dresses in the front of the classroom, showing the line of her granny panties every time she faced the board… Ugh nothing was working! Another tap on the door spurred Peter into action. He rolled out of the bed and grabbed for the thick, plush robe that lived on the back of the guest room door, wrapping and tying it securely around his slim frame.

“Coming!” He called out, before he opened the door and drank in the sight of his uncle, still pajama clad this late in the morning, soft plaid pants wrapped tight around the thickness of his thighs, henley shirt rucked up where Tony scratched idly at his abs with one hand. “H- hi!” Peter squeaked out, suddenly feeling shy.

Tony thankfully ignored his flaming face. “Good morning, kiddo! You should get ready, I’m going to get breakfast started. How do pancakes sound to you?”

“That sounds great!” Peter enthused. “Let me just change and I’ll be right out.”

“Okay Pete, but don’t take too long.” Tony directed fondly, before turning and walking down the hallway toward the kitchen.

Peter practically slammed the door and ran into the ensuite bathroom, eager to rid himself of his little problem. As it turned out, it really didn’t take him long at all.

Later that day, Tony declared it was time to teach Peter the secret family recipe. Peter watched with wide eyes as Tony’s calloused hands gracefully minced the onion and garlic. Why was he suddenly blushing? Were those butterflies flying around in his stomach?

“W- Wow, Uncle Tony,” Peter stammered, “you’re so good at chopping!”

“Thanks, Kiddo,” Tony said slowly, searching Peter’s reddened face as he spoke, “it comes from practice. You’ll be able to do this one day. Here, come over and let me show you.”

Tony pulled Peter over to stand in front of him at the counter and bracketed the boy in with his arms, leaning over him to show him the best way to handle a knife. Peter felt like he was melting, feeling his uncle’s beard brushing on the side of his cheek.

“You’re gonna hold the knife like this, and make sure to tuck your fingers under where you’re holding the onion. Now we’re just rocking the knife back and forth. Good boy, that’s exactly right.” Tony’s voice was low and intimate as he gently guided Peter through chopping the rest of the onion.

Peter was weak in the knees as he whispered, “Th- thanks, Uncle Tony.”

Tony took a step back and moved beside Peter, who was still standing frozen at the counter. He took the cutting board from Peter, scraping the contents into the pot to sizzle away merrily in the heated olive oil.

“Now,” Tony said, “we let this cook down, and then we’ll add the spices before the tomatoes.”

Peter could barely hear him over his own internal panicking. He was hard. He was so hard. Peter had no idea why or what to do or say. He was almost near tears and started to sniffle a bit.

Tony reached over to ruffle Peter’s hair. “Did the onions get you buddy? No shame in that, I tear up myself when cutting up a big batch. Here, why don’t you add the spices?”

Peter numbly reached for the spices they’d measured out earlier, careful to keep himself angled away from his uncle, and dumped them into the pot.

“Good boy!” Tony praised again.

Peter’s breath caught in his throat, and he coughed out his thanks, feeling his uncle’s shrewd eyes drilling into the side of his head.

“Peter…” Tony’s voice trailed off. “Come a little closer, I really want you to see what this looks like, so you’ll know when it’s time to add the tomatoes.” Tony reached his arm around Peter’s shoulders and pulled him close to his side. Peter had to suppress a whimper of fear and pleasure as they leaned over the pot together. “You see how the onions are getting transparent? That means they’re almost done. Now, give this a good whiff.”

The sharp smell of the onions and garlic had transformed into something rounder and delicious as they cooked, and Peter could smell the spices they’d added in the scent. “It smells amazing, Uncle Tony. Do we add the tomatoes now?”

“That’s right!” Tony sounded proud. “You’re catching on so quickly, Pete.”

Peter felt his blush deepen at his uncle’s words, and watched as he added the crushed tomatoes and stirred them in. “When will it be ready?”

“Well, it’s going to take at least a few hours of simmering first.” Tony paused and considered his next words. “We have to let the flavors come together. Sometimes Pete... Waiting makes things all the better. We’ll have it for dinner tonight.”

Peter was anxious to get some space to calm down. “I’m just gonna go to the bathroom,” he announced.

“Okay, kiddo, you know where it is.”

Peter hustled his way into the bathroom, hoping against hope that his uncle couldn’t see how hard he was inside his jeans. He was so anxious to get away that he didn’t notice how Tony watched him go, with a calculating look on his face. Peter collapsed onto the lid of the toilet and took a deep breath, trying to soothe his nerves. What was wrong with him? It almost felt like the crush he’d had on the older girl down the hall last year, but he’d never gotten hard just by being around her. Peter paled at the realization.

“Oh my God, I have a monster crush on my uncle…” He whispered to himself. “I’m disgusting…”

Peter let the words settle in the room, sitting motionless on the toilet with his head in his hands, trying to cry as silently as possible. He tried to slow down his tears and breathing, but the reality of being a total pervert kept popping into his head, causing the tears to flood from his eyes again.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” Tony’s inquiry came with a gentle knock on the door.

Hearing his uncle’s concern only made him cry harder.

“Shit,” Tony said from outside the bathroom. “Peter, I’m coming in, okay?” The door opened and Tony rushed to Peter’s side. He slid down onto his knees next to Peter. “Hey, Kiddo,” he said while brushing tears away from Peter’s cheeks, “what’s wrong?”

“You’re gonna hate me!” Peter sobbed.

“Oh bambino,” Tony soothed, “whatever it is, I could never hate you.”

Peter shook his head stubbornly as Tony pulled him into a bear hug.

“C’mon kid, talk to me,” Tony coaxed.

“Uncle Tony,” Peter cried out, “I- I- I can’t say it!”

Tony rocked Peter back and forth. “Shhh, baby, it’s okay… Is this about what happened in the kitchen?”

Peter’s head popped up in shock as he sobbed out, humiliation burning inside him. “You know? You know how I got... “ He continued in a small voice. “You know how I got… hard?”

“Oh, Petey. When I was your age a stiff breeze got me hard.” Tony laughed a little. “You can’t help it, any more than you can help needing to breathe. Is this all you’re upset about?”

“No, it was you!” Peter’s confession burst out of his chest. “It was because of you I got hard, and you’re going to hate me now that you know.”

Tony only hugged him tighter. “Shhh, it’s okay, bambino. Look at me, do I look like I’m mad or that I hate you?”

Peter looked in his uncle’s warm brown eyes. All he could find was love and concern beaming out in his direction. “N- no,” Peter sniffled, “you look like you love me.”

“That’s right, I love you so much. I could never ever hate you. Never never never.” Tony kept rocking Peter back and forth as he spoke, and running his fingers through Peter’s soft wavy hair. He waited until Peter’s sobbing stopped to continue. “Can you keep a secret, Pete? Just between us guys?”

“Y- yes.” Peter hiccoughed slightly as he answered.

“Sometimes Peter…” Tony confessed slowly, still carding his hand through Peter’s hair. “Sometimes you make me hard too.”

“I do?!” Peter blurted out in shock.

“You’re a very attractive young man, Peter…” Tony sounded a little jealous as he said, “I’m sure in a few years you’ll be fending people off with a stick.”

Peter was still processing that he could make a man like his uncle hard, or be attractive with his shrimpy little body.

“You can always come to me with anything, Pete,” Tony soothed, “even this.”

“Even this?” Peter was shocked. “You mean… I can come to you for help… For help if you make me hard?”

Tony chuckled. “That’s right, for anything, even if I make you hard, and you want me to help. All you have to do is ask.”

Peter was dazzled by the images that flooded into his head. Those competent hands wrapped around him, holding him close, maybe even kissing him. As the ideas came to him, suddenly his boner was back in full force. Peter shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Tony’s genius perception quickly picked up on Peter’s squirming. “That offer is good now,” he offered with a smirk.

Peter gathered up all his courage to ask, “Uncle Tony, will you help me?”

“I’d be happy to, Pete!” Tony smiled proudly at his nephew.

Like a switch flicked, suddenly the mood in the bathroom changed from melancholy disbelief to sultry heat. Tony stood and hauled Peter up from his seat, making him squawk in surprise and instinctually wrap his legs around his uncle’s waist.

“There you go kiddo, just hang on.” Tony sounded perfectly normal, not even out of breath as he walked out of the bathroom with Peter held up in his arms. “This is hardly the place for the kind of help I’m going to give you.”

Peter’s head was spinning as he was carried through the penthouse toward his uncle’s bedroom. His hard-on was trapped against the solid wall of Tony’s abs and it took all his self control not to rut against him like a puppy. Peter leaned his head against Tony’s neck and nuzzled into him, smelling his woodsy musky cologne and underneath a delicious scent that was all Tony.

Tony shouldered the bedroom door open and quickly made his way across to the huge, custom made bed in the center of the room. He gently set Peter down on the bed, and crawled up on the bed himself before tugging Peter into his arms.

“Let’s talk for a sec, kiddo. Tell me what you want to happen here. Remember, all you have to do is ask me, and I’ll give it to you.”

If Peter wasn’t blushing already, he was now. “Will you kiss me? And touch me?”

Tony smiled and leaned in. “Of course. Let’s start with that kiss.”

Peter tilted his chin up hopefully and was rewarded by the gentle touch of his uncle’s lips. Peter moaned a little at how good it felt, and Tony responded by deepening the kiss, tracing his tongue across Peter’s lips and slipping it inside. Peter felt dizzy, he’d never been kissed at all before and the rush of desire he felt was intoxicating.

Tony licked at the inside of Peter’s mouth before drawing away to ask, “Doing okay, kiddo?”

Peter blinked in confusion, trying to clear his spinning head. “‘M good,” he said dopily.

“Good, good,” Tony cooed, “how do you feel about taking off our shirts?”

“It’s okay, sounds good to me,” Peter replied tentatively.

Tony helped Peter sit up on the edge of the bed, then pulled off both of their shirts. Peter gasped as he took in his uncle’s cut figure, reaching out with tentative hands to trace the hard muscles at his core, and gently stroke across his chest.

“Wow, Uncle Tony… Do you work out?”

Tony laughed. “I sure do, kiddo, I have a very well paid personal trainer who keeps me in shape.”

Peter looked down at his own soft and slim form. “Is it okay that I’m not like you?”

Tony reached out and caressed Peter’s arms and shoulders. “You’re perfect just the way you are, Pete.”

Peter gasped at the skin on skin contact as Tony gathered him onto his lap, brought their hips together, and kissed him deeply again. Peter grew bolder as the kiss went on, and twirled his tongue around Tony’s, participating eagerly. Unconsciously Peter’s hips started rocking back and forth, rubbing against his uncle’s answering hardness. Tony lowered his hands from Peter’s waist to grab at his perfectly round bubble butt, rocking him back and forth in a slow rhythm. Peter felt like the kiss went on for hours and lost himself in the grinding of their hips together. He could feel Tony’s hard on rubbing against his own, and moaned into the kiss as his dick leaked and twitched inside his jeans, rutting his hips more erratically against Tony’s.

Tony used his grip on Peter’s ass to slow their grinding down. “Hey there, champ, you getting close to the finish line already?”

Peter blushed and hid his face in Tony’s neck. “Sorry, Uncle Tony.”

“Oh baby, you don’t need to be sorry.” Tony kissed the top of Peter’s head. “It’s just that sometimes,” Tony purred, “it’s better to let it simmer.”

The butterflies in Peter’s stomach were back and flying around like crazy. “L- like the sauce?”

“That’s right.” Tony grinned wide. “Want me to show you?”

Peter whimpered, “Yes!” He wanted anything and everything Uncle Tony had to show him.

Tony moved them on the bed, making Peter sit on the edge while Tony knelt on the floor in front of him.

“Put your hands behind your back, Peter.” Tony’s voice was smooth and confident as he coaxed Peter into position.

The boy blinked owlishly before reaching his hands behind his back and locking one wrist in a tentative grip. “Like this?” Peter asked tentatively, leaning back naturally and displaying the tent in his jeans.

“Exactly right, that’s a good boy.” Tony cooed, just to watch his adorable nephew’s eyelashes flutter at the praise. “Now, tell me Petey, do you ever touch yourself? Maybe in the shower, or at night when you’re all alone in your room?”

Peter blushed scarlet thinking of how he touched himself this morning, and ducked his head. “Yes- yes, sometimes I do.”

“Good, good. I’m gonna touch you just like that, but you have to promise to tell me when you get close to finishing, okay?”

The promise sounded simple enough to Peter, so he nodded in agreement, still looking down at his lap nervously. Peter startled as Tony’s hand gently tipped up his chin, forcing him to make eye contact.

“Hey, kiddo, are you sure you want to do this?” Tony’s voice was gentle as he checked in with his nephew. “We can stop any time you want.”

“No!” Peter blurted out. “I want to keep going, I promise!”

Tony smiled and ruffled Peter’s hair. “Okay then, bambino, let’s get this show on the road.”

Tony rubbed both hands soothingly on Peter’s denim clad thighs, starting out light then increasing the pressure. Peter gasped as tingles trailed in the wake of his uncle’s hands.

“That feels nice,” Peter confessed.

Tony laughed. “I’m about to make you feel even nicer. Lift up a little for me.”

Peter obediently braced to lift his hips, letting Tony unbutton and slide the boy’s jeans down gently, leaving them in a puddle by the side of the bed. His throbbing cock slapped against the softness of his stomach, petite, flushed a delicate pink, and leaking at the tip.

“Um…” Peter started to curl in on himself before remembering to keep his hands behind his back.

“Doing okay, kiddo?” Tony asked.

Peter could feel his blush traveling from his face down his chest. “I just… I’ve never been naked like this with someone before.”

Tony gently stroked Peter’s cheek with one reverent hand, letting it trail down to his hairless chest. “You’re beautiful. Look how soft and pretty you are.”

“Th- thank you, Uncle Tony,” Peter squeaked out.

Tony reached out with his other hand and spanned across Peter’s chest, rubbing his hard nipples with practiced thumbs. Peter squirmed as he felt heat building in his stomach, tension already starting to coil behind where his dick stood proudly from between the apex of his thighs. His head fell back and his lips opened as a steady stream of gasps and moans fell out of his mouth. Tony tweaked Peter’s nipples, gently at first, then increased the pressure until Peter cried out.

“Does that feel good baby?” Tony cooed over Peter’s cries.

“Ah- ah- yes, yes it feels good.” Peter bit out, tension in his face as he processed the combination of pleasure and pain.

Tony released his grip on Peter’s pebbled nipples and flicked them back and forth a few times before running his hands greedily down Peter’s slim chest, gently exploring his nephew’s developing form. He skimmed the sparse patch of hair above Peter’s already needy dick, then traced over the sensitive patches of skin above his hips. Peter wiggled at the tickle-pleasure-giggle feeling as Tony moved back to Peter’s thighs, carefully bypassing his straining prick.

Peter’s patience was quickly running out. “Uncle Tony,” he panted, “aren’t you gonna touch me there?”

Tony laughed lightly. “Touch you where, bambino?” He slid his hands down to Peter’s delicate ankles and held them firmly grasped in his hands. “Here?”

“No!” Peter burst out before his voice lowered in embarrassment. “My- my dick. Aren’t you gonna touch my dick?”

“Hmm… You’re a greedy boy aren’t you?” Tony smiled a sharp grin. “Why don’t you try asking me nicely, Pete?”

“Oh!” Peter said, catching onto the rules of a game he’d never played before. “P- please, Uncle Tony, please touch my dick.”

“So polite,” Tony crooned, running his hands back up Peter’s sparsely furred legs toward his hardness.

Tony wrapped one hand around Peter’s erection, holding it firmly in his grasp. Peter’s hips bucked up into his uncle’s grip, chasing the friction and heat.

“Ah, hang on, kiddo,” Tony gently scolded, “let me do the work here. You just have to sit there and enjoy it. You remember the rule right?”

Peter nodded. “I hafta tell you when I’m close.”

“Good boy, that’s exactly right.” Tony practically purred.

Peter flushed again under the praise and shifted his hips restlessly where his length was still firmly wrapped in his uncle’s hand. Tony pumped his hand slowly, spreading the leaking precum down the boy’s shaft.

Peter gasped at the feeling of tight friction around his dick. Having someone else touch him felt so different from his own hand, like electricity pinging around his nerves. Peter’s stomach tensed and quivered as that coiling feeling built back up, up, up after only a few firm strokes.

“‘M close,” Peter slurred from his open mouth.

Tony chuckled. “Already, pretty boy? Hold off for me, for just one more minute.”

His uncle continued stroking firmly, watching Peter’s face tense and his jaw clench as he tried to be good and hold back from the edge.

“Unc’l Tony,” Peter whined, “I’m gonna, I’m gonna!”

Tony pulled his hand away from Peter’s prick at the last second, soaking up his whines and moans, watching his hardness twitch fruitlessly in the air.

Peter was already close to tears as his orgasm was cut off so suddenly.

“Shhh bambino, it’s okay. Just calm down a little for me, remember? We’re letting it simmer.”

Peter’s eyes were still screwed shut. He startled as Tony leaned forward and kissed him deeply, wrapping a hand around his throat and another in his hair, tilting Peter’s head to the perfect angle to ravish his mouth.

“Such a good boy,” Tony murmured against Peter’s lips, “you’re being so good for me. You just sit right here with your eyes closed and stay good.”

Peter could feel the air currents stir as Tony got up from his seat beside the bed and walked away. He was only gone a moment, and quickly returned to his seat. Peter heard an unfamiliar click then yelped as he felt cold liquid being dripped onto his throbbing dick.

Tony carded his fingers through Peter’s hair as he spoke. “There we go, we’re gonna make this even better for you, baby boy.”

“What- what was that?” gasped Peter, still reeling from the coldness against where he was running so hot.

“Just a lil slick, to make this easier on your pretty little pecker.” Tony punctuated his words by sliding a single finger around the sensitive head of Peter’s little cock, circling around over and over till Peter thought he might scream. “That feel good, Petey?”

“Yes,” Peter hissed, “it feels good!”

Tony smiled. “So responsive… I love that about you.”

Peter was on fire as his uncle lightly teased the tip of his leaking, needy dick. Tony was gently and inexorably drawing Peter back to the edge of ecstasy. His balls were drawing up already, hips shifting, trying not to buck up to get more contact.

“Uncle Tony, I’m- I’m close.”

Tony pulled his hand back and rubbed soothingly on Peter’s bare thighs. “That’s a good boy, thank you for telling me.”

Peter whimpered as the praise went straight to his head, his prick leaked more precum and twitched in the air untouched. He was crying for real now, tears of frustration leaking down his face.

Tony waited until the movements of Peter’s hips stopped and his core unclenched before reaching for the boy’s hairless balls and rolling them around gently in his sack. Peter gasped, he’d never paid much attention to this area when jerking off, and was unprepared for how sensitive they could be. He spread his legs a little wider to give Tony better access, and was rewarded by fingers pressing firmly against the sensitive skin below his balls.

“F- fuck! I’m gonna cum!” Peter cried out, the pressure coiling in his gut suddenly springing tighter, dick slapping untouched against his stomach as his hips bucked uncontrollably.

“Tssk, listen to that foul mouth,” Tony chided playfully, gently tugging Peter’s balls down from where they were rising up.

“Sorry, Uncle Tony,” Peter panted, “it just feels so good."

Tony kept the pressure on that sensitive patch of skin and rolled the palm of his hand around the weeping head of Peter’s cock. He slowly moved his hand to grip around Peter’s shaft before pumping slowly.

Peter was on fire, sweat prickling under his arms and behind his knees. He’d never waited so long to cum before and the tension was swirling through his body again, coiling in his gut, coalescing in a pool of heat attached to his throbbing cock. Peter’s head was thrown back, mouth wide open as he fought against moving his hips up into Tony’s grasp. He was entirely unprepared for the feeling of a hot tongue lapping at the slit of his dick.

“Ah! Close, close!” Peter sobbed.

Tony drew back and laughed. “You taste so good, Petey. I think I’ll have some more.”

Peter’s toes curled as his uncle suddenly swallowed Peter’s slim length down to the root, surrounding him in scorching liquid heat. He could feel Tony’s tongue pressing his dick against the roof of his mouth, bobbing his head and sucking hard.

“Fuck, fuck!” Peter screamed out. “Uncle Tony, stop, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!”

Peter looked down desperately at his uncle who didn’t seem to be stopping. Like Tony could feel his gaze, he peered up at Peter through long dark lashes, and winked, while still bobbing his head on Peter’s prick. His self control broke. Peter’s hands flew from behind his back and gripped at Tony’s hair in a futile attempt to ground himself against the waves of pleasure shooting through his young body. Tony let out a groan of surprise that vibrated around Peter’s dick, ratcheting the tension in Peter’s core to new heights.

Peter howled to the ceiling as a wave of lightning overtook his slim form, curling forward around Tony’s head as his hips moved up repeatedly into Tony’s hot mouth. White blanked out his vision and his body stiffened as he began to shoot spurts of hot cum into his uncle’s welcoming mouth. Tony swallowed down everything Peter had to offer, and kept sucking on Peter’s hardness even after his orgasm was complete, until Peter was flinching and sobbing and trying to get away from his mouth. Tony pulled off Peter’s dick with a wet pop, rubbing soothingly against Peter’s thighs and pressing sweet kisses to all the skin he could reach.

“Shh, that’s a good boy,” Tony cooed, “You’re so good for me, baby. You wanna keep being good?”

Peter was laid flat on the bed, knees still spread over the edge, panting in the aftermath with a spinning head. He raised back on his elbows to look at his uncle. Tony stood up as he spoke, and there was a huge, intimidating bulge right at eye level.

Peter gulped in nervous apprehension. “What- What do you want me to do.”

Tony dropped back down to his knees, caressing Peter’s legs. “Oh, baby, no, we don’t have to do anything else. You’re just so sexy, and you made me so hard. I can’t help but want you.”

Peter squirmed a little on the bed. “Well, it’s only fair, right?” He asked his uncle.

Tony grinned a little. “You’re right, it would be fair for you to help me.”

Peter gathered his courage and smiled back. “Will you help me?”

“Remember, Petey? I’ll always help you.”

Suddenly Peter felt silly for being so worried just moments before. “Okay, Uncle Tony, I want to help you too.”

“There’s my good boy.” Tony smiled up at Peter proudly. “You just have let me use your hands, just like you’d use them when you touch yourself.”

Tony unbuttoned his pants and slid them down his thighs. Peter gasped at the sight of his uncle’s cock. It was so much bigger than his, flushed a ruddy red, and springing from a nest of close cropped dark curls at the base. His balls were hanging heavily below the shaft, which poked straight up in the air. The tip glistened slightly with precum, and Peter felt his mouth fill with saliva at the sight.

Peter leaned forward and offered his hands to his uncle. Tony gently grasped them in his own and wrapped them around his hardness. Peter marveled at the feel of silk over steel, tightening his grip involuntarily as he felt the desperate throbbing in his uncle’s cock.

“Yes-” Tony hissed out, “that’s a good boy, Peter, you’re doing exactly right.”

Peter pumped his hands curiously, observing the heat on Tony’s face, listening to him moan low in his throat.

“Can you go a little faster, baby boy?”

Peter nodded eagerly and moved his hands up and down in a rapid rhythm. Tony was cursing under his breath as his hips bucked into Peter’s grip.

“Fuck kid,” he swore, “your little hands feel so good wrapped around me.”

Tony looked up at him, desperation all over his face. “Peter… Do you want to taste me like I tasted you?”

Peter mulled over the question in his mind, recalling how he felt somehow hungry at the first glimpse of his uncle’s cock. He quickly nodded, too shy to voice the words, and stopped his pumping to offer a hand.

Tony didn’t need the help. He quickly stood, pants still hanging around his thighs and pulled Peter forward on the bed in one smooth motion.

Peter stared at the cock pointing directly toward his mouth. He grabbed it with one hand, and flicked his tongue out to experimentally lick the flared head. Peter mused at the flavor of musk and slightly bitter precum before swirling his tongue around it, just like Uncle Tony had swirled his finger around Peter. Tony gasped, and his dick twitched up in Peter’s grasp. Peter smiled to himself and kept licking eagerly, loving the idea of returning pleasure to his uncle.

“Shit, shit, you’re such a good boy Petey. You’re doing such a good job licking. Can you put it in your mouth and suck? That’s all you have to do.”

Peter nodded around Tony’s straining cock, tasting more precum flowing from the tip as he did. He carefully wrapped his lips over his teeth, and popped the head of Tony’s dick in his mouth, feeling like the flared tip was taking up all the available space. Peter sucked cautiously around the intrusion before becoming more comfortable, and sucking harder. Tony reached down and started jerking his shaft roughly and with the ease of long practice, grunting deeply with every stroke.

“Oh fuck, here it comes. Fuck baby, you’re being so good.” Tony let out a long moan and pulled his cock out of Peter’s mouth with a low pop. “Just- just- shut your eyes and stay- right- there-”

Peter did as he was told, and could feel long, hot stripes of cum splashing across his face. He cautiously opened his eyes when they stopped, and saw his Uncle standing in front of him with flushed cheeks and a slowly softening cock.

“Aw, kiddo I got you so dirty, but you look so pretty.” Tony reached forward and traced the edge of one of the lines of cum with his thumb. “It’s a shame, but let’s get you cleaned up.”

Tony reached down and scooped Peter up for the second time that day to carry him into the bathroom. Tony set his nephew on the bathroom counter and dampened a soft cloth to erase the evidence of their help.

“You are so good bambino, you did such a good job for me.”

Peter squirmed under the gentle touches and wrinkled his nose as his uncle gently cleaned his face. “Uncle Tony…”

Tony lifted the cloth to look Peter in the eyes. “What is it Petey? Everything okay?”

“Can- Can we keep this a secret, just between us guys?”

Tony laughed and wrapped his arms around Peter, kissing the top of his mussed curls before he spoke. “Of course baby boy, what happens at Uncle Tony’s should stay at Uncle Tony’s.” Tony finished wiping Peter’s face and pressed a series of kisses across his clean skin. “There we go champ. Now, we have just enough time for a movie before we have to go get the pasta ready. What would you like to watch?”

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