#no! he will be your perfect sub and let you pretend to drain him for the evening tho | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

oftenderweapons · 4 years ago

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Steamy Waters — Jimin

Pairing: Jimin x reader (nicknamed Princess)

Wordcount: 7.1k (to be edited when my eyes aren’t bleeding)

Genre: NSFW, pwp, smut, slightest crack. Established relationship, Idol!AU

Rating: so 18+ I feel bad at age 22.

Hello ladybirds! Welcome to the Steamy Waters scenarios.

Let me move very quickly to the plot (I’m super late in publishing this — yes, it’s 7am, I stayed up all night but I was having fun��🥴). Well, it’s been a while since Jimin has returned from the tour. Princess is supposed to meet with Vixen and Lace — Girls’ Night squad is back — for dinner and is missing only a few details before leaving when Jimin presents his counterarguments. Too benevolent to leave him sulking — and too vulnerable to his charms — Princess decides she has enough time to indulge him. Of course she ends up being late to the appointment, but she’s not the only one.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: well. Swearing/slurs (used between girls who are joking among each other) Also, there’s a generic mention of drinking wine and tipsiness at the end of the piece. Hard dom!Jimin (Sir), bratty sub!reader; use of non-verbal safewords; very mild degradation (mostly patronising acts and hinted objectification — Jimin calls reader ‘doll’; very, very mild dumbification); masturbation, both male and female, clitoral vibrator; oral, male receiving, brief female receiving; the oral male receiving is pretty intense (includes ruined makeup, gagging, tearing up, wrist pinning and wrist bondage), facefucking; plenty of voyeurism (mirrors. Mirrors everywhere); marking (with lipstick) female and male (milder) receiving; lipstick and make up fetish; spanking with a hairbrush; partly accidental exhibitionism through phonecall (the girls are telling each other they’re gonna be late but a bunch of things go wrong so all the phonecalls end up exposing the characters and their current debauchery); playful mention of foot fetish (licking, it’s contained in a joke). FINALLY, AS USUAL, UNPROTECTED SEX WITHIN AN ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP! NO, DON’T DO IT UNLESS YOU AND YOUR PARTNER(S) ARE TESTED AND CLEAN.

Features: Namjoon x Vixen; Taeyhung x Lace. Yes. The Girls’ Night squad is back and this time it’s not Vixen’s turn to cause trouble.

Here is my masterlist!

Enjoy!!!

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Jimin was sulking.

Old news.

That brat is a professional sucker… ahem, sulker.

Anyway, he was sulking in the bathtub, the lower part of his face hidden under the bubbles, his stare so vicious he could have probably thrown very sharp daggers with it.

“It’s just one dinner.”

“It’s Saturday night! What about you join me in the tub we do our full skin care ritual and I fuck you senseless on our bed.”

“Please, the girls have been so kind to me. We have planned this dinner weeks ago.”

“I am less important than your friends?” Jimin opposed, sitting up and crossing his arms.

Dammit, you were walking in very dangerous territory. “In this moment you are a tiiiny millimeter less important than them. Very tiny millimeter.”

“Are you serious?”

“Jimin,” you begin to say, trying to make him understand. “We have the rest of the week. I owe them.” You told him. “We are always so busy, we can never meet up, plus with you guys’ crazy schedule we need our own debriefing. Let me have my time, baby.”

“So you prefer staying by yourself rather than spending time with me?” He said.

“That is not what I mean and you know it.” You replied, frowning, sitting at the vanity.

You opened a small drawer.

Oopsie. Wrong one.

Unless?

You checked your watch noticing that you had an hour left. You could make it a quick thing. Something to make Jimin quiet and willing to let you leave the house with the excuse that ‘the sooner I leave, the sooner I’ll be back’.

Sure, your brain might have been slightly confused by the thought of him naked in the bathtub, and the scent of his body wash, and the sexy way his elbows were propped on top of the edges of the tub, the water sliding down his perfectly toned, smooth chest, his head thrown back, wetness glittering on his plump, luscious lips.

His eyes opened. “Fine. Go.” He said, and his voice was grumpy and sad.

You couldn’t leave him like this. Still, it wasn’t important what he said specifically. The only thing you noticed was his dulcet timbre, like a siren calling you.

Without even precisely knowing what you were doing exactly, you took the small seat in front of the vanity and the tiny, powerful toy inside your drawer; you walked to the side of the tub, placing the chair there and tugging your pencil skirt up, exposing your panties. The mirror behind the tub offered your reflection to your unsure gaze, making you move your eyes away.

Of course Jimin noticed. Of course he stayed quiet.

He’d much rather watch you undisturbed as you bent forward, pulling down your panties and sitting down, your skirt bunched up in your lap as you spread your legs and propped your feet against the edge of the tub, dragging your toes against his elbow to catch his attention. He would boost your confidence later, when it mattered the most to you.

“What is it?” He called, pretending he hadn’t seen what you were doing.

“You’re not interested?” You asked, switching on your finger vibrator, a tiny device with a silicone band that wrapped around the back of your digit and a thick, bulbous head on the other side, a vibrator embedded in the thicker part, with the specific aim of making the ridges and patterns on the head repeatedly stimulate your clit.

The sensation was immediate, rubbing it up and down your slit a couple times, you managed to capture Jimin’s ears — and eyes, soon after.

“Princess?” He called, staring at you, your hand wandering and finding purchase on the bathroom counter.

“Yes?” You moaned sultrily.

“Don’t you need to go out with the girls?” He asked, his eyes hypnotised by the motion of the toy moving back and forth from your clit to your hole and back up.

“I thought I could give you this, as a treat.” You said, licking your lips.

“A very generous one.” He replied, licking his lips, bracing his forearms on the edge of the tub, settling between your open legs and placing his cheek on the back on his hands, staring, completely mesmerised.

Your breath was becoming irregular. “How close?” He asked.

“Not too much.” You replied, removing your hand on the counter and placing it on your chest, palming it heavily.

His gaze climbed up to watch your flesh swell as you squished it. “Does it feel good?” He asked, untucking one of his hands to remove the cover blocking the drain of the tub.

Water started to rush out, his hand going from the drain to your ankle, drawing patterns up your calf, the other one lazily reaching for his length, tugging it a couple times.

Your eyes closed as you started feeling the edge of your high, the image of Jimin kneeling before you filling your senses, imagining him everywhere, all over you, his mouth on your nipples, between your legs, his hips smashing against your ass as he slammed inside you from behind, and his deliciously candy-pink cock in your mouth.

“I’m close.” You murmured.

His hand slowed down between his legs. As if it could go any slower.

“Cum for me, Princess.” He ordered. Still, siren voice.

A pattern of quick circles on your clit possessed your digit, your brain going on autopilot to the fastest way to pleasure. “Jimin, please.”

“What, Princess?” He replied flirtily, gleaming in cockiness as you were begging him without him even putting his hands on you.

“Please.” You called again, as pleasure overthrew you, your lips parting in one long, purring moan, first very high-pitched and then descending all the way down to your normal voice as you calmed down, focusing on chasing your high until it became too much, your eyes closing completely, your free hand reaching behind your, holding you up since the stool couldn’t be trusted much.

As you removed your finger — and the adjoined vibrator — you felt something wet and soft part your folds and titillate the tight ring of muscles at your entrance, still quivering with your fresh climax.

Your eyes opened, blinking a few times before you spotted Jimin’s wet hair below you, his head between your legs, body tucked in the small space between your body and the tub.

“Put that finger back on your clit. We’re not done here.” He said, placing one of his hands on your spine, on the small of your back, holding you up while his other arm went to his thick shaft. You loved looking at it, at how deliriously pretty it looked. You would gladly print a very big picture of it. Hang it in your closet. Stand there and look at it every now and then, with a glass of wine. Get inspired by the shape, length and colour. Find new ways to please him and torture him. Study every small vein on it. Every tiny detail. The small mole at the base — God only knows how a mole can end up there. And how it can make a cock look so insanely, unfairly pretty.

You felt crazy for it, completely devoid of your own will. And the way his hand left your back and caught your wrist, placing your buzzing finger on your clit made you even wilder.

“Jimin.” You called, your other hand ending in his hair and tugging him closer.

He chuckled mischievously. “Needy.” He said simply, before fighting against you trying to remove his head. You were too close.

It was all too much.

“Jimin!” You called again, desperate and embarrassed.

“Oh, no.” He said, moving his fingers away from your wrist and crooking his arm at the right angle before sliding two of his fingers inside you, his digits just the perfect measurement to reach your g-spot.

“Feels too good.” You mewled, removing your finger from your clit. Too much stimulation.

“Put that finger back in place.” He growled, his hand moving angrily on his own sex.

“Please!” You said, whining and whimpering.

“Back in place, Princess.” He said sharply.

Without room for opposition, you did as he ordered.

“Good girl.” He murmured as you cried out at your finger and his working you towards your second high. “You’re doing so well for me.” He added.

“I can’t.” You said, feeling your pleasure amplify in your abdomen. Suddenly your ears zeroed on the nasty, squelching sound coming from between your legs.

“Oh, you can, Princess. Keep going, sweetie. Sir’s waiting for you.”

He had entered dom zone.

Well, fuck.

You were officially done for the night. Especially when he pressed his chin to his hand, his tongue devilishly playing with your sensitive hole while his fingers stimulated your pulsating walls.

You came undone. His moaning turned in loud, thin moans, open mouthed breathing as he finally reached his high with a tight squeal that undid a knot in his throat.

You removed the toy almost immediately, the filling sensation inside your cunt definitely too much for your nerve endings.

He didn’t even notice, and when he did, he let it slip. You were deep in your second climax, making you sensitive and vulnerable, and he had no intention of overstepping any boundaries. Yet. His fingers slowed down, his mouth parting from you; his hand stopped at his base, giving a slow, strong tug at his shaft, milking out the last few droplets of his release.

“There you go. Has your treat been satisfactory, Princess?” He asked with a saccharine voice, most definitely trying to tease you with his bratty ways, or maybe gloating about him getting what he wants. As usual.

“Very.” You replied, pressing down the button on the ring and removing the toy from your finger.

He unhooked his fingers from your sex, sliding them out and licking one gingerly. “Nice.” He grinned in a dangerously endearing way. “Let’s clean up, yes? Can you stand?” He asked, gentle as always, standing up and quickly moving to the sink, washing up the remnants of your shared debauchery on his hands.

“I hope so.” You replied, grabbing a small towel and running it under the tap before cleaning yourself, drying your skin with an unused corner. You wore your panties and tugged your skirt down next.

“Would you like me to do your make up?” Jimin asked, looking at you in the mirror. “I’d like to repay you for the sweet treat. And I don’t want you to think I don’t support you going out.” He turned towards you, completely comfortable in his naked state. “Consider it my way of blessing your plans.”

And maybe bless your face when you come back home later and drool on my cock.

You smiled. “That’s nice of you, Jimin.”

“I’m always nice.” He said, rubbing a towel wildly against his hair before wrapping it around his waist, grabbing the small bench and putting it close to the vanity, strategically placing you so the light would hit your face enough for him to properly do your make up. “Sit, darling.” He said, patting the seat.

You followed his direction, checking your watch. Twenty-five minutes until you needed to head out.

“You already did toner, serum, lotion, all of that?” He asked, making sure that the canvas was at its best.

“Yeah.” You confirmed, wearing the small necklace he had gifted after coming back from the tour.

“You already wore your cream?”

“Yes!” You repeated, playfully cocky.

He swatted at your calf. “Don’t play cocky with me.” He reprimanded, matchingly playful.

“Primer.” He said, standing up, his perfect chest right in front of your eyes for the briefest of seconds. Then he walked behind you, removing the whole small drawer and bringing it with him as he kneeled down again, pouring a small amount of concoction on the tip of his index and middle finger. “It’s summer so I bet you’d like to stay light.” He said, touching the two digits with their twins on the other hand, only to draw tiny dots all over your face, and then using his devilish hands to spread the lotion. “Sorry, I prefer using these rather than sponges and stuff.” He said, but it was actually simply an excuse to touch your face.

The more touching he could do the better.

His goal was getting you going and any kind of touching on your face felt intimate enough to be more powerful than a booty grab or a whole body slam all over you at the moment. He just knew.

With his pinkie, he pushed back the small hair on your forehead. “You know what? Fuck beauty standards. Out there is damp like a swamp today, you should just wear some BB cream and stay fresh.” He said, kissing your head. “You’re perfect anyway.”

“Jimin.” You said, a tad emotional.

“And I don’t want men staring at you. You’d look too pretty with full makeup.” He said, leaving a ginger kiss on your lips. “I want you to shine as you are.” He said, grabbing a small compact hand mirror containing a cushion imbued with light foundation. He took a small puff and pressed it twice against the cushion before placing his left index under your chin, directing your face as he patted the puff against your face, distributing the lotion evenly.

“It contains mother-of-pearl powder. It will make you glitter like the princess you are.” He said, with a kind smile. “You already look like a diva, babygirl.” He said, twisting your head to the side before noticing a small blemish.

He stretched to the table behind you, your gaze focusing immediately on the small, solitary droplet of water rolling down his chest. A bit hesitant, you collected it with your tongue.

“Princess,” he warned before grinning.

You were slowly, very slowly surrendering. He just needed to play the last few cards right.

With your concealing pen in hand, he fixed the red spot on your cheek, and another smaller one on your chin, blending them with the slightly damp tip of his pinkie.

You smiled and caught his hand, kissing the small digit before smiling. “Your hands are absolutely lovely.” You said. This kind of small reassurance was something you offered him daily, and even though he played tough and acted as if he wasn’t bothered by those details he so stubbornly called flaws, you still made sure his self esteem could always thrive.

“I assumed so, considering what they did earlier.” He stood up and — maybe — accidentally the towel fell, his cock standing proud in front of your eyes.

May goodness help you and God protect you.

You reminded yourself of dinner, of the girls waiting on you. I mustn’t. You told yourself. Still a part of your brain told you you’d be a fool if you didn’t took your chance.

But your chance had already disappeared behind the towel once more. “Sorry.” He said, standing straight after bending down to grab the cloth and fixing it back in place. He collected the small wooden drawer too, putting it back in place in the vanity.

Next he took your beauty case, making sure that it contained exactly what he was looking for.

This time he stood in place in front of you, his navel perfectly in front of your face. He found a small box and opened it, fishing out a miniature brush and running it against white, glittering powder. “Just a faint sparkly effect on your lids. Close your eyes.” He whispered sweetly, putting the powder in place, on one eyelid. Then the other. And then every touch disappeared. Before you felt his fingers tracing your collarbones. “Just for the extra sparkles.” He said, grinning viciously once you opened your eyes. It was indeed his fingers. Not the brush. He took his chance to widen the neckline of your white chiffon blouse.

“Tip your head back.” He said, this time more commanding.

A shiver ran down your spine.

You obeyed.

He took a dark eye pencil. It was something you hadn’t used in a while, preferring lighter make up, usually using simply dark eyeshadow to trace the line of your eyelid.

“Black pencil?” You asked.

“Be quiet. It looks so good on you.” He said, focusing on applying it evenly on both lids. “Look down.”

Right at his abs. Fantastic.

You prayed the other girls were being tempted just like you. Knowing Vixen and Namjoon, he was probably already halfway up her panties. And Lace… well. She’d probably had to change her outfit at least three times to hide Taehyung’s marks. You hoped they were late too.

There was no way you could arrive at the appointment in time with Jimin in this mood. And with your blood roaring in your veins, cursing you for each second you let him stand untouched before your eyes it was all a matter of time before it all went to hell.

“Eyes to the ceiling.” He said, “I’ll do your lower inner lid.”

“Jimin, that’s a bit aggressive...” You replied, trying to keep his hand from going anywhere close to your eye.

“You look so intense with the lower line too, though.” He teased, already tracing the corner with a slow, light-handed touch. “Just a bit. Come on, make me happy.” He said. And with that you knew precisely he was in the mood. Just like you were.

At this point there was no fucking way you could make it in time.

You stood perfectly still, the pencil too near to your eye, too dangerously close to stabbing it. “Jimin,” you called, as he moved to the other eye. “I’m gonna be late.”

“Don’t worry about that.” He already knew there was no way the other men weren’t in a similar situation. Knowing Taehyung, he probably still had Lace naked. Especially after what he’d told him about their sexy weekend.

“Jimin, please.” You said, exasperated.

“Baby, I know you’ll be the first one there, as usual, and you’ll have to wait for them all dressed up and pretty.” He said. “Chill. You can be fashionably late.”

He put down the eye pencil and picked up the silvery tube of your mascara.

“Just a teensy, tiny bit.” He said, “Look straight ahead.”

You mean at your hard on peaking from under your towel?

Your lips twitched nervously as you tried to look away.

“What is it?” He asked.

“I’m gonna put my mouth on it.” You said in warning.

“Don’t,” He replied, fixing the upper lashes on your left eye. He applied way more mascara than necessary before moving on to the other eye.

“Don’t bat your lashes,” he said with a focused tone as he applied the finishing touches, giving quick, teasing flicks to the lower lashes and came back to the left side, making the two match.

“Lipstick.” He said.

You huffed out a stressed breath.

“Lip liner to make sure your lipstick doesn’t smear at dinner.” He said, tipping your chin up and drawing his face dangerously close to yours, his hot, quick breath fanning over your face. “Stay still.” He said, tracing your cupid bow first, then covering all the way from the peak to the angle, mirroring the gesture on the other side.

Your lower lip was tricky. From the middle he drew the left arc, then the right one. No matter how hard he concentrated there was something harder calling his attention.

And the situation worsened when he felt your hand timidly brush the back of his thigh.

“No.” He said harshly, cupping your jaw and squishing it, making sure that you opened your eyes and looked at him.

“Why?” You asked, your hand still climbing up.

“You need to go.”

“You said the girls will be late too. And I should be fashionably late.”

“Princess.” He said, his voice growling in a harsh warning.

“Jimin.” You warned, mocking his tone.

“Stay put. Let me finish my work here.” He said, a bit frustrated.

Your lips were tempting him. And his brain was telling him to claim, claim, claim.

For the umpteenth time, he closed his eyes, inhaled and exhaled slowly and calmly.

He completed the weak spots on your liner before he inspected it.

He placed down the lip pencil.

He found your Chanel lipstick, uncapping it and focusing before placing the perfectly shaped tip against your upper lip, following the liner before completing the other half.

“Almost done, Princess.” He spoke gently. But his hand shook. Especially when he felt your nails tease his skin again.

“Princess.” He scolded eloquently.

“Jimin.” You called again.

“What.” He replied drily.

“I wanna be late.” You said, your palm climbing higher up under the towel and landing on his ass, squeezing a glute seductively.

“Let me finish.” He said, giving up.

You smiled before relaxing your lips, making them extra pillowy as you offered the lower one to him.

He tapped the red paste against the inner flesh before drawing half a line, then the other half.

“Pop them.” He said, as you started pressing your lips together lightly and making them sputter.

“Am I ready?” You asked.

Jimin smirked before his eyes turned sultry.

Looking him in the eye when he had that expression was too dangerous. He held too much power.

“No.”

He stared at the upper hem of your blouse, at the way it let your collarbones show with an expensive, classy bateau neckline.

Jimin stared at the front buttons. He placed down the lipstick. And started undoing the buttons.

You grinned. “Are you gonna make me get there late?” You asked expectantly.

“Quiet.”

You obeyed. Not like you had much choice.

He reached the lace of your bra, then undid more buttons, until he reached the waistline of your skirt.

“Arms out.” He said, making the delicate fabric of the shoulders slip past your wrists, letting the blouse fall around your waist.

“From now on, not a word. Are we clear?” He asked, making you look him in the eye. “Answer.”

“Yes, sir.” You said, obediently.

“Excellent. You move when I tell you. You move how I tell you. Yes?”

“Yes, sir.” You replied again. You were salivating at the idea of what he was going to do, how he was going to use you.

His hands moved to your bra, pushing the cups under your heavy breasts. “You’re my little doll, aren’t you? Sir wants you and your nipples pop up. I bet you’re wet between your legs without me even touching you. Are you wet, Princess?” He asked.

“I’m always wet for you, sir.” You said, offering him extra praise. Not like the statement wasn’t true.

He smirked and moved to the vanity once more, letting the towel fall for real. “It was an accident.” He said, mocking you, raising an eyebrow and shrugging. “Not like you mind staring at my cock, do you, Princess?”

“I love staring at your cock, Sir.” You replied, giving him absolutely no reason to complain about you or punish you.

“So hungry for it, little doll.” He snorted.

Once more the lipstick was in his hand.

“Who do you belong to, Princess?” He asked, stroking himself as his sweet, poisonous voice enchanted your ears.

“To you, sir.” You said, sitting with your back straight, your knees pressed together, your thighs squeezing in helpless arousal, your hands laying flat on your legs.

“What’s my name?” He said, licking his lower lip as a droplet of pre-cum appeared on his tip.

“Park Jimin, sir.” You answered, sharp and refined as he wanted you.

“Just my name, Princess. Say it.”

“Jimin.” You kept your eyes on your lap, not yet sure you were allowed to look at him.

“That’s right, Princess. Good girl.” He said, voice disturbingly neutral as he bent down.

He let go of his length, running his hand under the tap and drying it, oh-so-slowly, before he cupped your breast and stared at it, his expression focused and meditative.

He placed the tip of the lipstick on the left side of your breast, drawing an horizontal line. Two curled ones. A straight one. He moved to the other side. A rectangle. Another straight line. An L-shaped one.

“There. Stand up.” He said, placing down the lipstick and offering you his hand, helping you on your feet, making you stand in front of the mirror. “Who do you belong to, my beautiful princess?” He asked, standing behind you, his lips moving sensuously at your ear.

Right there, spelled on your chest in expensive, rouge Chanel lipstick, you found your answer, just like it was indented in your heart, mind and soul. “Jimin.” You read.

“That’s right, ____. Excellent job, doll.”

He turned you towards him and placed a gentle kiss on your lip.

“Now, kneel.” He ordered, smiling gently, however the command in his voice was icy and sharp.

You smiled shyly and obeyed. Once on your knees, you waited for his hands to feed you the tip of his cock, his precum making your lipstick glisten and stain his spongy head. You opened your mouth wider, lolling your tongue out in invitation, but he refused.

“Kiss it. I want it covered in lipstick.” He ordered. “Kiss it like it’s my face. I want imprints all over it.” He ordered.

And just like that it stood in front of you, exposing all the underside to your feverish and reverent kisses.

You were ready to beg for him to push it down your throat, desperate to feel the taste of him, to feel him there; then you remembered you weren’t allowed to speak unless he asked you.

You tried to talk the only way you could. Your eyes connected with his as you gave a gentle lick.

He snorted. “Want it in?” He asked, biting his lip and placing his hand on your head.

“Please, sir.” You begged: the easiest way to get what you want. You would never, ever beg for anything in your life. But for Jimin? You would lick the soles of his feet if he asked you to. Thank goodness he was too ticklish for that.

“Open up.” He said, grinning.

You assumed your position and waited for him to slide in. Holding your head, you felt his tip on your tongue, his hand feeding his cock into your mouth.

“That’s it, Princess.” He said, pushing inside.

Your hands naturally moved to his butt, leading him further in. You wanted to take him all the way, watch your lips print a nice red ring at his base.

“Hands in place, Princess.” He scolded.

You placed them lightly on your knees.

“Yes. Good girl.” He spoke through gritted teeth. He started thrusting in, your eyes watering as you felt your throat close up, hitting your knee noisily, twice, letting him know you needed to breathe.

“Okay.” He slid out, giving you some time to catch your breath. His fingers wrapped around his length, thumb, index and middle finger forming a ring sliding up and down the tip.

“Ready?” He asked.

You simply nodded and he let the small misbehaviour slip. He just wanted to sheath himself in the warm velvet of your cheeks, tongue and throat.

Once he bottomed out a new set of prints began forming on his pelvis, your hands coming for his hips, trying to slow him down as you began tearing up.

“Hands. Princess.” He roared.

You drew them back, shaking, trying to bob your head on him, wet droplets leaving your eyes and rolling down your cheeks.

And now the black eye pencil and mascara make sense. He wanted this from the very beginning.

Your hands pressed against his abs.

“Silent. Safeword. ____.” He ordered aggressively with a growl.

No. You didn’t want him to stop. You wanted him to snap.

You made to remove your hands, but instead you cupped his balls with your right one.

He drew out. “That’s it. Brat.” He walked to the shower wall, where your bathrobe was hanging. He tugged at the tie, whipping it out of the small hooks in anger.

“Lay down.” He said, minaciously as he walked to the vanity, picking up the lipstick again.

You crawled to the carpet in the middle of the room and did as he told you. At least you wouldn’t be met with the cold of the tiles.

“Ungrateful brat.” He said, placing two fingers under your chin and straddling your chest with his legs. “I let you go out. I made you cum. I did your makeup. I offered you what you wanted. And you disrespected it, and disobeyed me.”

He caught your wrists and pinned them over your head. “But maybe I didn’t offer you what you wanted.” He said, wrapping the soft tie around your wrists, making sure it wasn’t too tight, even though he was furious. He took two deep breaths before securing the knot with a flowery bow. “Maybe this was what you wanted, uh? Answer me, Princess.” He encouraged you.

“I want what is best for you, sir.” You replied, eyes imploring as his cock laid on your chest.

“If you really did that, I would already be done fucking your mouth and I could be slamming my cock in your disobedient, tight, creamy cunt.” He said, applying more lipstick on your lips.

“You better make me cum quick, brat.” He spat the words at your face, his legs moving to bring his hips closer to your mouth. He lifted his ass and propped himself on one forearm, his hand holding his cock before offering it to your lips for small kisses. “Your non-verbal safeword is snapping your fingers. Any number of snaps will mean ‘stop immediately’. I will slide out and let you breathe, then I’ll ask you if you want to keep going.” He said, using his tip to draw your lips, just like a tube of lipstick. “Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” You replied.

“Make me proud, Princess.” He said, before accompanying his shaft into your mouth and looking down, into your eyes, before he started thrusting. The movement was identical to that he uses to fuck you nice and good on your bed, his hips usually slapping against the back of your thighs, while now they met the skin of your cheeks, the blurred mascara coming down in thicker rivultets, making your eyes redden.

You were definitely a mess.

Jimin tried to stay focused on your hands, feeling pleasure but ready to ignore it or your safety.

His thrusts became more intense, your throat producing thin, panicked whimpers before he felt your fingers snap, two, three times.

He pulled out.

You gasped for air, your eyes immediately connecting with the black stains on his pelvis. Your mascara. Or eyeliner.

And the red on his sex. All over it. Staining his balls too. It was undoubtedly your lipstick. No natural blushing could do that.

“Are you okay, ____?” He asked, and you could tell he was out of his dommy character.

“Yes.” You replied simply.

“I’m almost there, love. Can you take it, baby?” He asked, worried.

“I can. I want to.” You said, nodding and reassuring him.

“Then let’s go, Princess.” Back in the game.

He was back in your mouth in a second, and this time you were sure you wanted him to dissolve in pleasure like sugar in coffee.

You used all your tricks, swallowing once he settled in, pumping him with your cheeks until you saw him lift on his tiptoes, needing closer, giving up on the fine grip of his knees to plank on top of you and properly stroke inside you as his head rolled back in a very improper, very loud yoga position, making his mouth spill a divine moan while his orgasm spilled inside you.

He gave a small series of the tiniest thrusts before going perfectly still, his moaning stopping. It was smart of him to own a house rather than an apartment. Way more feasible in terms of… disturbing noises.

He slid out of you quickly once he realised you were there, perfectly still, trying to save your oxygen and prolong his bliss.

“Oh, Princess, angel.” He said, quickly undoing the ribbon, descending down your body, straddling your hips and touching your face. “Can you stand up?” He asked, trying to fix the smudged line around your mouth.

“Maybe.” You said, hesitant.

“Come on, let’s try.” He said, helping you up.

“I want more.” You said, kneeling on the carpet, flinching at the sensation.

“That flinch is a reply enough. And you’re messed up. And late for the meet up.”

You checked your wrist. “Lace is always twenty minutes late. Please, one last thing.” You begged, looking at his sex, half hard. “Please.”

“You want to fuck or make love?” He asked, already touching himself. He could do one more. And it was you. All he needed to do was bend you over and watch your tits move as he ground his hips against yours.

“Fuck me.” You said.

He grinned sadistically. “In front of the mirror. Bend over and spread.” He ordered drily.

You smirked back at him and turned into his doll, becoming exactly what he had asked of you, your panties soaked by now, the only protection your skirt.

You were a mess as you looked at yourself in the mirror. His name barely smeared on your breasts, your cheeks made of tens of dark, dried-up rivulets, your mouth a ridiculous attempt at a clown look.

He tugged the hem of your skirt up, exposing your ass before slipping his fingers into the see-through, fine net of your panties, his fingers digging until the fabric ripped offering your slick, honeyed entrance to his eyes.

He stood behind you, the reflection intoxicating as he showed you a wooden hairbrush.

It was that wooden hairbrush. It was the one he liked being used on himself when the roles reversed.

It was extremely fitting of him to want to use it right in that moment, on you.

“Ten. If you don’t cum on my cock all you’ll have is your fingers while I touch myself. Clear?”

“Yes, sir.” You replied.

“Ready. Count.” He said, rubbing the smooth wood against your lower glute.

The smack was harsh. Violent. The sound was scary but the pain was divine.

“One.” You called.

He slammed inside you, his thighs hot with boiling blood as he thrusted in harder before delivering another smash.

“Two!” You almost screamed.

“That’s right, doll.” He said, bending down, teasing your ear. “How pretty my name looks on those tits.” He said, slamming into you, a few more times, the various objects laying on the bathroom counter shaking as he pushed into you.

What you didn’t expect was for your phone to shake that hard.

The screen lit up.

Jimin noticed it immediately.

“Oh. It’s Vixen.” He said. “Maybe she’s worried about you.” He panted at your ear.

No. No, no, no. You thought.

“Come on, answer, Princess.” He said, vicious and petty as usually. “You love your friends so much.” He smacked your ass, just with his hand, almost playfully. “You wouldn’t want her to worry. Answer.” He ordered.

Your hand shook as it reached the phone. Jimin stilled inside you.

You picked up the call. “Hi.” You said.

“Hi bub, lovely to hear you. I might be late.” She said, straight to the point, her voice way higher than usual.

“Late?” You asked, trying to speak as little as possible.

Jimin started to move behind you.

You shook your head. NO. No, please, no.

“Forty minutes. Also, tell Lace. She’s not—” squeal “—answering.”

A dark voice behind her murmured something. “Only forty minutes?” He teased.

Namjoon, of course.

“I’m… busy?” You said, just as Jimin pulled out and smashed the hairbrush against your right asscheek. “Three.” You said under your breath.

“Didn’t catch that.” Jimin said teasingly.

You tried to cover the microphone. “Three. Sir, I said three.” You knew you were very likely putting yourself in trouble.

“Joon, why am I not getting spanked?” Vixen asked on the other end of the phone.

“Brat.” He snarled before his voice disappeared again.

“____, dearest. My boyfriend is threatening me with his ten inch cock. I can’t make that call, sweetie. Please, call her.”

“She will.” Jimin answered on your behalf.

“Thanks, Min. Enjoy.” A final squeal echoed down the line before it fell.

Another smash.

“Four, Sir.” You said, feeling Jimin stroke in while sneering, his lips parted as your wet, slippery walls welcomed him with a rich, squelching sound.

“Call Lace.” He ordered at your ear, sweet like a mermaid.

You shook your head in denial, but at the same time you searched for her contact on your phone. The sooner, the better. You would be done embarrassing yourself, and he would simply focus on torturing you until you reached your orgasm.

You pressed ‘call’ and Jimin’s ears tuned in to the sound of the phone, making sure that he began to truly fuck you only once Lace picked up.

The calling sound went on forever. “Let me… She’s not answering. Please.” You said, looking at Jimin’s reflection in the mirror.

“Wait.”

The line went silent for a second. “Vixen, for fuck’s sake, she’s sucking my cock, stop fucking calling.” Taehyung roared.

Jesus.

“It’s me, Princess?” You said, using the nickname that all the boys used. Sometimes it felt ridiculous. Like in that precise moment, when your boyfriend’s dick was buried inside you.

“Princess, what is— mh… Yes.” Taehyung stopped for a second. “Sorry. Lace is busy. Might be late.”

Jimin stretched to the mic. “I knew it.” He said, talking to Taehyung.

“Jimin, get out of my ears.” He joked with his friend. “Can I please… Twenty minutes. She’ll be there in twenty. Thirsty— Thirty at worst.” He spoke before a low rumble came from the line.

You blushed.

Jimin started pushing inside you, trying to get a moan out of you.

“Mh—Meet in forty. Vixen late. Bye.” You said before closing the call, Jimin using that precise moment to start hammering into you.

“Let’s make this quick. We need to make you presentable again, doll.” He said, picking up your knee and propping it up on the counter. You were so wide open for him, his hips smacking lewdly against your ass. To go the extra mile, he grabbed your waist with one forearm and used the hairbrush again.

“Five? Is it… Five?”

“Yes, Princess.” You weren’t sure he was saying yes to the counting or your inner walls squeezing him.

His cock touched your cervix repeatedly with a neat pattern, two fingers reaching your clit. “Quick.” He said.

You managed to push back only three times before your vision went blank, your upper body collapsing against the bathroom counter, your hand pressed against the mirror as you tried to find purchase to keep you upright, to no avail.

Jimin whimpered a few times before he went silent and collapsed on top of you.

His cock twitched twice inside you, weakly. He was probably drained.

“Jimin. Thirty-five minutes.” You called. He slipped out, immediately trying to clean you up.

“You shower, I get an outfit for you. Try to save your hair. Make up remover in the shower.” He said. “I’m driving you.” He said, helping you unglue yourself from the bathroom counter. “Do you need something special, love?” He asked, stopping you a second to hold your face and kiss your mouth, no matter how messy it was. “Aftercare, baby.”

“Just help me get ready.” You said, kissing him again. “I love you. You’re fantastic. The best.”

His ego exploded. “Love you too. Let’s make Stickerella ready for the ball.” He grinned before rushing to the closet.

——————————————

Forty minutes later, you, Lace and Vixen met in front of a classy, sleek restaurant.

“Did you pre-party, Vixen?” Lace asked as the three entered the place, Vixen leading the way to the table. Her legs were wobbly. Very.

“You’re so much fun.” She replied with a fake laugh. Namjoon’s habits were starting to rub off on her. Not the only stuff being rubbed, you thought mischievously.

“Seriously, did you swap your left shoe with your right one?” Lace asked as the tiny woman showed them the table for three. She took a seat on the closest chair, biting her lip as she lowered her bottom. Her eyes closed and she swallowed noticeably.

You smirked, right before sucking your own lips, your ass hurting with the leftovers of the spanking. “You are both two nasty bitches and I am so proud of you.” Lace said with a wide grin.

“Fix your neckline, you classy whore. I can see your boyfriend’s marks from here,” Vixen seethed, still smiling, no offense in her words. Still, she ran her tongue against the edge of her teeth, taking a calming breath as she fixed her position on the seat.

You chuckled at their scene before clearing your throat.

They both turned toward you, waiting for you to speak before realising that you simply had a sore throat. Yeah.

“Please. let’s order wine. You both sound like Marge’s sisters in The Simpsons.” She said, laughing and shaking her head.

“You��re just envious because your gag reflex sucks.” Lace said, clicking her tongue before shaking her head herself in faux disapproval.

You snorted and tried to cover your mouth.

“Glad I’m everyone’s laughing stock.” Vixen said, fixing her hair.

“Your neckline, slut.” Lace said, once more addressing Vixen with a whisper, acting with the posed mannerism of a lady from a Jane Austen novel.

Vixen laughed herself this time. “How did you get out?” Vixen asked her.

“Baby boy fell asleep like a puppy.” Lace said, a dreamy look on her face. “You?”

“Something along that line.” She replied. “What about you, sweetie?” She said turning towards you.

“Jimin brought me.” You said, smiling serenely.

“He’s such a sweetheart.” Vixen said, smiling with her whole face, her eyes turning into pure affection. Again, she looked like Namjoon.

You clicked your tongue. “Everyone’s a sweetheart when they’re getting fucked right.” You said quietly.

Both women laughed.

“I’m just sorry Yoongi’s girl couldn’t come.” Lace said, a bit sad.

“Oh, don’t worry about her. She’s fine. Coming. In… other ways.” Vixen — her neighbour — quipped.

“My god, we’re nymphos.” Lace said, covering her face with her hands.

You shrugged. “Again. That’s the magic.”

By the end of the night, the three of ended up happily tipsy, toasting to your boyfriends and ‘doing things right’.

#bangtan hq #jimin x reader #jimin smut #dom!jimin #park jimin x reader #jimin x reader smut #jimin fanfic #jimin x y/n

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pi-cat000 · 3 years ago

Text

BNHA: Kakashi dimension hops crossover (6)

Summary: Kakashi gets dumbed into the My Hero Academia universe through random plot devise.

Characters: Kakashi Hatake

Fandoms: My Hero Academia and Naruto

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence/injury

START / PREV / NEXT

As predicted, the day following the seal’s application is miserable. His chest is tight with almost anxiety, pins and needles run up and down his arms making his skin itch, and he is increasingly lethargic. All symptoms of a chakra imbalance and to be expected when one’s normal chakra replacement rate was thrown out. The sensations would pass once his body adjusted as they had with his sharingan.

He is eating three square meals a day, doing the bare minimum when it came to exercise routines and avoiding excess chakra use. It had been literal years since he had had this much bed rest. If he were ever going to slap a chakra collecting seal on himself, this was a perfect time. Okay, so maybe he should have steadily increased the chakra drain over the course of a few weeks for a smoother adjustment period. Hindsight and all that.

What mattered was that he would be fine, and he just had to wait it out. Bright side? No one had commented on the seal yet. Oh, he has definitely noticed serval people throwing the odd confused frown at his shoulder, but that was as far as anyone had gone in acknowledging it. His oh so clever strategy of acting like nothing was wrong worked so much better when he wasn’t surrounded by other shinobi and medic-nin.

“Your blood pressure is still too high. Are you sure you haven’t been experiencing any additional fatigue or other symptoms? Is something about the hospital causing additional stress? If there is something wrong, we should work on strategies to fix the problem.”

Well… it worked on everyone who wasn’t Wada. The man was irritatingly persistent in his doctoring. Apparently, the pressure of adjusting to an increased chakra drain wasn’t doing his body any favours.

“Maybe it’s a part of my quirk. High regeneration. High blood pressure.” Kakashi shrugs loosely not bothering to look up from HEROES and HEROINES May Issue. Unlike his previous reading material, people gave him odd looks when they saw him reading these magazines which immediately upped their entertainment value 100-fold.

Wada undoes the compression sleeve he had been using to measure Kakashi’s blood pressure, lecturing as he goes, “From what I can tell your cells produce more energy-rich molecules, ATP, NADH, then is typical, increasing cellular functions. Where your cells are getting the energy to produce these molecules, I have no idea seeing as you eat about the same amount as any baseline human. What I can safely say is that it should not influence your blood pressure. If anything, your blood pressure should be a bit lower than average. Now don’t dodge the question.”

He pauses, waiting for Kakashi to cave and suddenly confess. Kakashi, an old hat at dodging medical questions, continues reading unperturbed.

“I’ve been at this for over 30 years. An attack like the one you suffered is understandably traumatic, not to mention the stress of severe amnesia. I’m sure, whatever is bothering you, I’ve heard it before.”

Kakashi very much doubts that. “I feel fine.”

Wada huffs, unconvinced, “Young men. You all think that admitting you have a problem is a sign of weakness. High blood pressure can damage your heart and lead to problems later in life so finding the cause is important.” Good thing a shinobi life spans tended to max out around 30. The odds of him making it to an age where he’d have to worry about the long-term effects of anything were pretty low. He doesn’t voice this opinion, continuing to read.

Wada continues talking with greater gusto, “No matter, I’ll prescribe you something for stress hopefully that’ll help with your blood pressure. However, this is no replacement for healthy habits both physical and mental. You should consider professional therapy.”

Kakashi snorts. Yeah, that sounds about right.

“Oh, you think that’s funny do you,” Wada makes to grab HEROES and HEROIENS and he lets the doctor pull the magazine free from his hand. It gives him a good view of the man’s irate expression.

“No, of course not.” Kakashi attempts to placate and gets a light smack over the head with said magazine for his troubles.

“There is no shame in pursuing a healthy mind!”

“Weren’t we going to test my quirk today?” He complains to derail the current line of questioning.

“I have half a mind to put it off and have you rest another week,” is threatened before Wada’s stern expression relaxes, “Lucky for you, I’ve booked you into serval tests that can’t be rescheduled.”

Kakashi breaths out dramatically. He thinks Wada might have made a good medic-nin if he had lived in Konoha. Sure, he is a little too trusting, but he was also not above pestering his patients into taking better care of themselves. Sakura would approve.

The doctor, with the assistance of an attending nurse he hadn’t bothered to learn the name of, helps Kakashi out of his bed and into a wheelchair, ignoring his protests about his leg being all but healed.

“You’re to avoid putting weight on it until you start physical therapy,” Wada snaps at his continued complaints, “You’ll need to be careful, extended bed rest and surgery can leave your muscles weakened. Also, leave that magazine behind. You’re doing eye tests when do you think you’ll have time to read!”

Kakashi doesn’t push the matter further, resigning himself to being wheeled down the hospital halls like the invalid he was pretending to be. It is not like Wada knew about his frequent excursions to the roof or the fact that he has been running through strengthening exercises on his own time for several weeks now. Best he keeps that information to himself.

Partway down the hall, he pulls out HEROES and HEROIENS from where he had slipped it into his shirt, enjoying Wada’s exasperated expression. Of course, he stops reading when the doctor threatens to start lecturing again. The man could definitely talk when given the chance.

Wada and the nurse take wheel him to a set of double-door elevators which take them down several floors below the ground level. The hallway they exit of a mirror of every other hospital hallway. Grey and white walls, pale blue lino floor and bright fluorescent overhead lights. The only difference is that this hallway is lined with heavy-looking metal doors. From snooping through patient files, he knows that all quirk tests are carried out in specially designated underground ‘safety rooms.’ That doesn't make him any more thrilled about being several stories underground. It cut down on his escape roots.

“These are some of the more secure recovery wards in the hospital,” Wada explains as their little group stops at a small reception desk where the doctor taps away at a computer screen, “they’re mostly for treating patients with unstable quirks.” Kakashi maintains a neutral expression, accepting the explanation.

Wada wheels him up to a steel door, swiping his ID card which also doubled as a key to many areas of the hospital. The heavy door is automated and slides open. A lot of the doors in the hospital operate this way and always made sneaking around slightly more troublesome.

Inside walls and floor are plain white and there is an odd number of tables and chairs pushed to one side out of the way. Everything stinks of disinfectant. On the far wall is a single solitary painting of a tree in a field, the only splash of colour in an otherwise depressingly sparse room. A poor attempt at living up the space. The opposite wall sports a rectangular, reflective surface which was probably some sort of observation booth. Well, if being underground hadn’t put him on edge, this obvious confinement room definitely did the job. Kakashi eyes the space. Worse comes to worst, he could use the kamui and remove the adjoining hallway wall then climb his way out through the elevator shaft. There are only two other people in the room with him and one woman at the reception desk, all were most likely unenhanced with quirks unsuited to combat, easily removed. He doesn’t let his body language reflect his unease. He is just a little on edge because the new seal is messing with his body’s natural homeostasis. If this is a trap there would have been other signs of deception before now.

“Yes, I know it might seem like a whole lot of fuss just to run through a few flashcards,” Wada comments, oblivious to Kakashi’s poor mood. He waves to his assisting nurse who wheels over and lowers one of the metallic tables so Kakashi doesn’t have to move from his wheelchair. “But it’s a standard safety procedure when an unknown quirk is involved. Trust me, this is a lot easier than travelling to an external testing range.”

Wada stops to give Kakashi a once over, frowning, “How much do you know about your quirk sub-type?”

Kakashi shrugs, “Nothing much.”

“Ah,” The doctor’s frown grows, and he grimaces, “Of course you don’t.” A sigh.

“Typically, ocular quirks will act to enhanced sight in some way or improve base level memorisation and recall ability. It is also common to have a replicating function, allowing the user to produce some sort of copy of things they see. In rarer cases, ocular quirks result in precognitive abilities.” Wada explanation falters, “They can also have a line-of-sight emitter effect, such as laser vision, optical blasts, a few instances of mind control and other mental effects. These can also be incredibly dangerous if the user isn’t in control. There have even been instances where whole buildings have been levelled.”

“I see.” He supposes Wada's irritation at this private 'quirk' testing made a bit more sense. A doctor faced with an unknown and possibly dangerous ability would be annoyed if said patient went about experimenting without taking safety precautions.

“I should have checked whether you knew the dangers instead of just assuming. Apologies. That is my own error.”

He peers at Kakashi, almost guilty now, “and you don’t have a phone either so there would have been no way for you to research quirks yourself.”

“Ah,” Kakashi rubs the back of his head not likening how torn up the other man seems to be seeing as Kakashi had ever been in any real danger. “Don’t worry about it,” he reassures.

His reassurances land flat, the doctor still frowning, “I’ll see if I can get you access to the internet somehow.”

Privately, Kakashi adds 'research' to the list of functions ‘phones’ apparently provided and 'internet' to his growing list of terms to investigate.

Wada sighs again. “Regardless, let’s get these tests done first.” He places a thick folder labelled National Standard for Registration: Kit Type 3 alongside one of those portable keyboard-less computers the doctors tended to carry around. “Hold on, been a while since I’ve done one of these. Need to find the rights files. Ah, here we go. First, these rooms are monitored, and all tests are recorded. The data collected is confidential, accessible only to the patient and physician unless doing so causes the patent harm. Information regarding quirk function and use is shared with the Registry Office. You have a right to stop testing at any point. You got that?”

Kakashi grunts, his already poor mood souring further. He is not sure he wants the hospital - or anyone - keeping records of anything sharingan related.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Wada continues unperturbed, a testament to his serval weeks of trying to doctor Kakashi, “remember to let me know if you’re experiencing any discomfort. Don’t want you busting anymore blood vessels.

Kakashi lets out a tired breath, “Sure.” The sooner they left this room the better.

“We’ll test memory and vision first to compare to your baseline, then we’ll run through the replication and precognitive tests just in case.”

The nurse, who had been on the opposite side of the room waves, “All ready over here.” There is now a large poster with letters of varying sizes hung on the wall. He recognises the chart from his previous eye tests.

“Okay, let’s start with just uncovering it. Make sure you’re looking away from me as a precaution.”

Kakashi resists rolling his non- sharingan eye at the obvious instruction, shifting his attention to the poster on the wall. He flips his padded eyepatch up with his index finger so it partially rests on his forehead. All the letters, no matter the size, immediately snap into sharp focus. Nothing spontaneously combusts under his gaze. When he glances at the painting of the tree, he can now see a lack of brush texture, suggesting that it wasn’t a painting but a print of some sort. With that useless information now forever etched into his memory, he turns back to examine at Wada.

The sharingan picks out all the wrinkles and pores lining the older face. It focuses in on minuscule muscle movements as the man’s expression shifts from professional and accommodating to curious. The doctor’s fingers twitch ever so slightly over his computer. Most likely an unconscious habit. The man’s breath is slightly uneven like his chest can’t smoothly expand, suggesting some sort of lung problem. A past smoking habit perhaps? Nothing threatening is revealed.

“Doctor.” Kakashi prompts when Wada spends a little too long staring back at him. The sharingun did have a weak hypnotic effect, encouraging extended eye contact to help catch targets in genjutsu. Kakashi rarely uncovered his eye in the presence of civilians so he doesn’t know if the effect is more pronounced or if Wada is just curious.

Wada blinks, “Well…I certainly see where the ‘wheel’ description comes from.” He spends a second more staring then turns to start writing notes and tapping away at his computer screen. “I wonder if those spinning tomoe are purely cosmetic or if they have some other function because they are certainly fascinating to look at. There is also faint bioluminescence to the eye which is a common feature of ocular quirks…”

Honestly, the blatant eye contact is weird. Even his closest allies tended to avoid looking at his sharingan out of habit - expect for Naruto who was an outlier in almost everything - for understandable reasons. He thinks the people here would also exercise caution if an ocular abilities included mind control or exploding a person through eye contact. But no, Wada just goes right ahead and stares. A few seconds later and the unnamed nurse is also looking curiously at his eye. … …

Aside from redoing a standard eye exam, Kakashi runs through a marathon of flashcards to test both his memory and then precognitive abilities. The tests are done with lights on then in the dark and Kakashi is given a perfect 20/20 and an enhancement score of ‘15 grades above average’ for both. There are also several pages worth of words and numbers in progressively complex arrangements to test his information retention. Of course, everything is easily remembered with the sharingun active.

“Well, it seems to give general across the board vision enhancement alongside perfect recall and retention,” Wada finally concludes as he records all Kakashi’s results, “Of course, we’ll have to re-test retention in a few days so see if the information degrades over an extended period and we don’t know whether your quirk effects your long distance eyesight, but, for now, this appears to be all. The link between your quirked eye and the regenerative side-effect is still unknown. Odd that we couldn’t trigger any ‘copy’ function considering the quirks name though ‘copy’ could also be a reference to memorisation. If any other features do reveal themselves make sure you alert a medical professional.”

… …

Kakashi despises the process of getting an MRI with a heated passion. He hates having to lie prone in a loud confined space. It is the height of discomfort, making him tense up and clench his jaw. It is only the fact that Kakashi had researched and mentally prepared himself for the experience that stops him from accidentally snapping someone’s neck.

“We’ll have the results back in a few days,” Wada informs once the trying ordeal is over with, “From there we’ll update the Registry so you’re properly in the system. Speaking of which, have you made any progress on remembering a surname? I need something for the forms.”

“Hatake,” he grunts, too irritated to bother evading - he just wants to return to his room and wait out the side effects of his seal in peace- the question like he had every other time the man asked, “I think I prefer Kakashi though.”

It wasn’t like the name meant anything here and, who knows, maybe someone would come looking for him. This way they would have a trail to follow.

#bnha #bnha fanfic #naruto #boku no academia #CrossOver #kakshi hatake #dimension travel AU #fanfiction #my hero academia #more hospital stuff #probably a bunch of medical inaccuracies #quirk biology #quirk stuff #world building

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kookoosbunnynose · 5 years ago

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Ch.1 || Ch.2

Pairing: Neighbor!Jungkook/FWB!Jungkook x Artist!Reader

Genre: Slowburn, Smut, Angst, Humor

Word Count: 11.4k

Summary: You’re an art student in need of a partner for your new collaboration piece, who is there to help you but your new neighbor, Jeon Jungkook. You two paint together but leave with much more than a colorful canvas.

A/N: Hello! I know! Dumb bitch finally updated the fic lmao. but i’m really excited about this part and even more excited for the rest of the fic. If you haven’t read chapter 1 yet go read it!

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

Thankfully, even though you didn’t get to bed by the time you wanted last night, after the whole ‘y/n is a dumbass and got locked out’ debacle, you woke up with enough time to take it slow this morning. Mornings like these were your favorite, no rush. Just you sitting at your vanity getting ready for your day, jamming along to whatever song comes on your shuffle, using various items as a makeshift microphone.

You’re in the heat of Colors by Halsey when there’s a knock at your door, you abruptly cut off your poorly tuned melody, feeling caught. You quickly finish the eyebrow you’re working on as you don’t want the person at the door to see you with the one and a half you’re currently sporting. Good enough.

You rush to your front door, careful not to let your fluffy socks make you slip on the linoleum. When you open the door only to be greeted by your fluffy haired neighbor. He looks good in the morning too? Well that’s just fucking peachy. You’re making this difficult Jeon.

“Good morning.” You smile trying to hide how distraught you are.

“Good morning, sorry to bug you” he smiles sheepishly. “I was just hoping I could steal an egg from you? We’re out.” He asks hopeful.

“Oh, yeah of course. Just a second.” You turn on your heels to grab an egg from the kitchen. When your face is hidden by the fridge door you take a second to take a deep breath before making your way back to him. “Just one?” You ask when you hand it to him.

“Yeah one’s good, thank you y/n.” He gives you a small bow and opens his door. “See you later.”

---

“Hello gorgeous.” Yoongi says as your trio approaches the counter.

“Morning handsome.” Jimin smirks and steps in front of you.

“I was talking to y/n.”

“Her?” He looks over his shoulder at you. “While I’m here? That doesn’t sound right.” He scrunches his nose as if he’s doing mental math.

“I’ll just get your usual started.” He says leaning to the side so he can see your face.

“Thank you.” You laugh at them swipe your card and take the blueberry muffin he slides your way. You step to the side and wait for your boys to order their drinks.

“Remind me why we still come here.” Joon asks the two of you as you make your way to the pick-up end of the counter.

“Because we’ve been doing it since we started uni. We’re old and stuck in our ways, Joonie. There’s no backing out now.” You reply woefully.

“What are we? Boomers? We can go to a different coffee shop.” Namjoon furrows his brows.

“Order for Sweets!” A now familiar boxy smiled boy behind the counter says.

“Oh no we can’t. Not anymore.” Jimin says his attention caught by Tae.

“Look who wants to fuck the neighbors now!” You whisper yell at them before stepping toward the counter.

“Ha! You admit it!- Wait, neighbor?” You hear Jimin behind you.

“Hi Tae! Thank you.”

“Hello y/n!” He smiles and leans in to make his voice hushed. “If you don’t mind me asking, are you and Yoongi a thing? He covers like half your bill and calls you pet names everyday.” He lists off the, admittedly odd, circumstances of your relationship.

“Oh, no we’re not. We just flirt back and forth. I think if he had any real intention behind it he would’ve asked me out by now, in my experience he’s pretty straight forward.” You chuckle.

“Ah okay. Would you want him to ask you out?”

“I did in the beginning but it’s been well over a year. As far as he goes, I’m sated with just the flirting.”

“Ah, I see.” He turns away to grab the next two cups. “Orders for Jimin and Namjoon!” He calls over.

“Why do you ask?”

He pauses for a second. “I was just curious, he’s kinda like that with a couple girls but you seem to be his favorite.”

“Well it’s been a while, seniority I guess.” You shrug and your counterparts join you at the counter. “Oh how rude of me, these are my roommates. This is Taehyung.”

“Ah, nice to meet you, I’ll probably be seeing you guys a lot. I’m across the hall pretty often.” You all chuckle. “I wish I could talk longer but I don’t want to hold up the line, see you!” He smiles.

The three of you give various forms of a goodbye as you leave to find your usual table.

“Okay, is no one gonna say it?” Jimin says once you’re seated and safely out of ear shot.

“Say what?” Namjoon asks scrunching his face at his hot coffee.

“What do you mean ‘say what?’” Jimin says blinking slowly at your brother. “What is in those boys’ cheerios?”

“Fiber?”

“No! You fucking tree!”

“Y/n really? Now he’s calling me that, too?” You shrug.

---

You take a breath in as you walk into the art studio, the smell of paint and pencil lead tickling your nose. You take your usual seat at a large table and check your phone for your list of assignments. The professor sends you a large list of all the assignments at the beginning of the semester. Giving students the freedom to choose what order they do them in, the only stipulation is that you must have half turned in by midterms and the other half by the end of the semester. A much more doable lesson plan than a lot of your past professors. Being forced to be creative is draining and doesn’t get you far.

You scan down the list of possibilities until you find one that catches your eye. Monochromatic self portrait (any color)? No. Pretend you have synesthesia and illustrate your favorite song? Eh, not today. Collaboration piece? Ugh, I can’t even if I wanted to. I need to find someone to work with. Create 5 random custom colors and paint a landscape using only those colors (5”x5”)? Sounds like I could get that done before I leave. Perfect.

You pop in your earbuds and get to work. Deciding acrylic would be best for a quick painting, you grab a pallet and a sizable glob of each of the primary colors along with black and white. A little red here, a little yellow there, and some white for this one. You continue putting in different combinations until you have five colors you’re happy with not worrying if they’ll make sense for scenery. Fuck it. Who says trees can’t be purple?

As you dip your brush into your small selection of paints and watch the way the colors glide onto the canvas, it makes a sense of ease wash over you. Breathing life into a piece no matter how simple creates a new little reality in it’s own right. Expands our universe one brush stroke at a time. In the least cringy art kid way possible, of course.

You continue your work, mouthing along to your music as you go. Rust tinted grass and a peachy sky coming together in a way that definitely isn’t realism but ends up having a sunset feel due to the warm hues you chose. Just a few touch ups here and there and you’re done.

You pack up your things and head home with your new little creation to dry completely overnight. It’s already mostly dry but the textured parts still have a way to go.

---

“I really need to go grocery shopping. Thank you again, y/n.” Bunny teeth shining as he leaves your apartment with a mug of tea in place of the hot water he showed up with.

Today is day… eight? Of a new routine has developed over the course of the week. Everyday without fail, whether it be morning or evening, an egg or a cup of milk. Jungkook comes over and asks for a small food item, thanks you, and returns home. No big deal, but it’s apparent that those idiots really need to restock their fridge. It’s like having a stray cat that comes around every night after you feed it once. A really big stray cat… with pretty hair, and a cute lip mole, that always smells like fresh laundry and citrus… anyway-

Time to officially start the day and pretend that little mental tangent didn’t just happen. Go team!

You finish doing some light makeup and throw on some ripped mom jeans and a black hoodie. Enough effort to look like you care, but still comfy. You throw your bag over your shoulder, slip your boots on and head out the door.

Finding parking on campus at this time of day is a nightmare and usually takes longer than just walking since you live just off school grounds. So you make your short walk and stop by the cafe by yourself. You usually go alone only once a week; there’s only one day where you’re the only one of your roomies to have a morning class.

You order, give Tae his morning hello and make your way to class.

Classes pass with relative ease. You listen and take notes; taking notes more so meaning doodling along the margins of your notebook than anything else. Really putting those scholarships to good use.

Art history, meeting with the theater department about painting props, studio, home.

You enter your apartment and are met with Jimin and Namjoon sitting on the couch about to start the obligatory bi-monthy screening of Your Name.

“Hey! Were you gonna start the movie without me?” You kick off your shoes and take a running leap onto your spot on the couch.

“No! We were waiting for you, we’re not monsters.” Namjoon retorts in defense.

“That’s exactly what someone who wasn’t waiting for me would say.” You narrow your eyes at your little brother at the other end of the couch.

“Would you two stop bickering for two seconds. It’s starting.” Jimin puts a hand over both your mouths from his spot between you.

“Sheesh, grumpy pants.” You grumble when he lowers his arms.

The movie is filled with the same sobs and ‘awe’s that it always is, always ending in tears for at least one of you. Breathtaking animation coupled with a heart wrenching story, no matter how many times you watch it, it never fails to amaze. As much as you would’ve loved more closure at the end of the movie, the ambiguous ending couldn’t be more poetic.

“Joonie, what would you do if we switched bodies?” You turn to your brother as the credits roll.

“Probably get a discounted coffee.” He deadpans.

“Oh, you’re no fun!”

“More money in my bank account sounds very fun.”

Your retort cut off by a knock at the door from your neighbor for his daily snack, so you settle for throwing the pillow sitting in your lap in his direction as you stand. Which he tries to swat away only to end up with a faceful of cushion. Ha, get got bitch.

“Do you need an egg?” You say as you open the door.

“Uh- No I’m good? Thank you for asking.” Tae chuckles, you freeze your eyes widening.

“Oh my god, I thought you were Jungkook.” You let out a stiff laugh and shuffle your feet in embarrassment. “Anyway, what brings you all this way?” You joke, attempting to alleviate a bit of the blush on your cheeks.

“I just wanted to see if you’d wanna chill with us tonight? We had a lot of fun last time. Nothing special, but I wanted to see if you were up for it.” He smiles. “You guys are more than welcome to join too if you’d like!” He shouts over your shoulder at the boys sitting on the couch when he notices them sitting there.

“Nah we’re good Jimin and I have a test in the morning, and if I don’t force him to study with me he’ll fail.” Namjoon says from the couch

“I would not!” Jimin turns to him offended.

“Okay, I’ll study alone then.”

“No, please help me.” He deflates.

“See.” Joon smirks. “Thank you for the offer though!” He calls over to Tae.

“No problem, next time?”

“Next time.” He echoes.

“I’ll hold you to it.” He points a slender finger in your brother’s direction. “What about you, y/n? Are you down?” He directs his attention back to you.

“Right now?”

“If that works for you, Kook will be back from work shortly, it’ll just be Hobi and I for a little bit.”

“Yeah, sounds good to me.” You smile. “Just let me go grab a couple things real quick and then I’m good to go!”

You scurry to your bedroom and take a look at yourself in the mirror, evaluating the damage the day has done to your makeup. Not bad. You give the apples of your cheeks a quick squeeze to bring back a little color, scramble to find your tinted lip balm, and fluff up your hair a little. There we go. Cute. Now to find something to bring with me so this little panicked face check isn’t a complete lie. Phone charger is good.

With your phone charger in hand and a revived complexion you head back out.

“Thanks for waiting.” Tae gives you a nod and you smile while you give your boys a wave as you walk out the door.

You walk into the boys apartment and are immediately greeted by a wagging Bread who you kneel to give a plethora of loves, giggling when he hops up and tries to kiss your face.

“Hey y/n!”

“Hey Hobi!” You say as you follow Tae over to the couch with Bread right on your heels.

“Glad you decided to join us. Kook will be here soon, he left work not long ago.”

“I gave her the run down before we came over.” Tae smiles.

“How have classes and shit been?” You ask them

“Not ideal. I pulled a muscle in my leg.” Hobi rubs his calf. “With a big performance coming up on friday, but the show must go on, you know.” He shrugs.

“Oh shit dude, will you be okay?”

“He does this at least once a semester.” Tae says waving it off, used to his friend pushing through his injuries.

“Yeah, it sucks for a bit but I’ll have some wiggle room to rest after this test.” He reassures.

“Okay good, just don’t die.” You chuckle.

“I’ll try not to.” He laughs.

“I’ve been doing a few surveys for my psych classes, would you mind if I get some data from you?” Tae looks to you, taking full advantage of the small lull in conversation.

“Tae no.” Hobi’s face falls and he rubs his temples.

“Do you find Chuck E. Cheese fuckable?” He asks, a genuine question mark in his eyes.

You blink. “What the hell kind of psych classes are you taking?”

“Just answer the question, y/n.”

You look at Hobi for some sort of answer, though you’re not even sure what your question is. “You’re gonna have to just answer him, he’s been on about it all day.”

“Fucking of course not. Why on earth would I want to fuck a rat? And even if I did, why would I want to fuck a robotic rat roughly the size of an entire kindergarden class?”

“First of all, he’s a mouse.” Tae corrects. “Second of all, THANK YOU!” He throws his arms up and flops against the back of the couch. “One kid in my class started this somehow and the room was surprising split. About forty percent of the people in that room said ‘Charles Entertainment Cheese’ was sexy! It got pretty heated, people were yelling that the opposing side that we ‘just couldn't handle his raw sexual power.’” He says exasperated with overdone air quotes. “So I’ve been asking everyone all day because I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I suppose I can see how that would plague your mind.” You laugh.

“Anyway!” Hobi interjects, clearly tired of the subject. “How are your things going, y/n?”

You chuckle at his wide eyes. “They’ve been good. I’ve been spending more time in the studio with midterms coming up. But I need to find someone to work with me on a collab piece. I wanna have it in by midterms so I don’t have to worry about it during finals.” you sigh at the thought.

“Awh, I would help with that but I already did that assignment and I’m not sure if they’d let me do it again with someone else?” Tae says with a small frown.

“I’d offer but the only thing I am versed in is drawing stick figures and arguably anatomically incorrect dicks.” Hobi chuckles.

“Thanks you guys.” You smile. “It’s alright though, I might just ask Jimin to get drunk and throw some paint at a canvas with me.”

“Hey! This reminds me, a couple days ago when you got coffee you promised you’d show me some of your work when we hung out next.” Tae looks at you sternly, arms tight across his chest. “The time has come Miss y/n.”

“Ah, I suppose I did.” You say as you grab your phone to show him your album of a bunch of your work. “Okay, but I’m no Van Gogh. Go easy on me.” You warn before you hand over your device to him; you always get a little nervous when you show people your art for the first time.

“Hey hey! None of that nonsense! If the way you talk about art is any consolation, then I’m sure the passion alone is enough to make it beautiful.” Tae gives you a stern look followed by a reassuring smile.

“Do you want me to cry? Because this is how you make me cry.” You chuckle and relent your collection of work over to him for them to inspect.

They open the first photo and you’re met with a mixture of a ‘holy shit’ from Hobi and a ‘wow’ from Tae, their reactions make you smile and your face heat up.

“These are amazing y/n!” Hobi says as Tae swipes through.

“Thank you guys so much, really.” You say blushing and all but clutching your chest.

You watch their faces intently as they go through, Tae stopping every so often to zoom in and inspect a certain brushstroke that catches his eye. They get toward the end of the photoset when you hear a key in the front door. You’re the only one to turn your head to see Jungkook walk into the apartment. He sets his keys down on the table next to the entrance and his feet stutter a little when he sees you on the couch with his friends.

“Hey Kook! Y/n was just showing us some of her art, dude she’s so talented!” Hobi calls over his shoulder.

“It’s really good, you should come take a look.” Tae adds, and you laugh nervously.

“That’s so awesome, I will.” He says looking at you with a smile. “I just need to talk to Tae, for a quick second.” He says turning his gaze toward him and tilting his head toward the hall.

“Oh, is it about that thing?” Tae grits his teeth and sucks in sharp breath.

“Yes, exactly, the thing.” He confirms vaguely, looking relieved.

“Is everything okay?” You furrow your brows and look at each of them.

“He just has a rash, no worries.” Tae tells you in a hushed tone as he stands up. All you can do is blink in response. Jungkook lets out an exaggerated laugh as they disappear into the dark hallway and out of sight.

Once they are safely in the other room Jungkook flicks Tae in the forehead.

“Ow!” Tae gasps.

“What the fuck was that for?!” Jungkook whisper yells at his idiot of a best friend.

“I was covering for you!”

“You could’ve said literally anything else! I don’t even have a rash!”

“She doesn’t know that!”

“Exactly, you fuck!” Jungkook whispers flicking him again. “Why is she here?! You didn’t warn me!”

“This is what I get for trying to help you?” Tae says rubbing his forehead with a pout.

“Hey! I was handling it just fine on my own!”

“Oh yeah, your plan to slowly raid the entire contents of her fridge was going so great!”

“I just thought!... I thought we would eventually talk or... something?” Jungkook says realizing maybe it wasn’t the best plan in the world. “That’s how my parents used to get to know our neighbors, they’d borrow each others sugar and shit.”

“It’d be easier to talk to her if you just hung out with her and I invited her over for you. You’re welcome! And your parents weren’t trying to fuck your neighbors, were they! Different goal calls for different strategy.”

“Dude gross, I hope not.” Jungkook scrunches his nose. “And I don’t… just wanna fuck her.”

“Aww, does Googie have a bigger crush than we thought he did.” Tae teases pinching his cheek.

“Fuck you. But thanks I guess… just warn me next time, will you?” Jungkook relents.

“You got it.” Tae says patting him on the shoulder. “I’m only kinda sorry though!” He whispers as he slips out the door. Jungkook follows him to join all of you in the living room.

“Sorry about that.” Jungkook smiles at you as he and Tae take their places next to you on the couch.

“No worries.” You assure.

“Kook you should take a look at her work, I think you’d like it.” Hobi says passing your phone over to him and your face heats up a little. “I was just telling y/n how you were really artsy in high school.”

“Oh, it was nothing.” Jungkook waves him off as he starts to look through the photos and stopping a little longer on ones that catch his eye.

“It wasn’t nothing.” Tae interjects. “Actually y/n, you mentioned needing a partner for that collab piece? Since I can’t assist, I’m sure Jungkook could help you out.” Tae gestures to the two of you.

“Oh no, I couldn’t ask him to do that for me.” You shake your head, looking at both their faces.

Jungkook tilts his head to the side for a second. “I wouldn’t mind at all, it would be fun. I might be a little rusty though.” He says with worried eyes.

“Really? you wouldn’t mind?” You light up. “That would help me out a ton. I’ve been stressing over that piece for weeks.”

“I’d be happy to.” He smiles bright. “I’m off on Saturday, we could work on it then. If that works for you, of course.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” You reach out to shake his hand, effectively sealing the deal. “Thank you so much.” you say and squeeze his hand a little.

“So Kook, I’m collecting data for my psych class-” Tae takes this opportunity to stain your moment of gratitude.

“I already told you, I’m not fuckin’ rats!” Jungkook cuts him off.

“He’s not a rat!”

“Which side are you on?!”

---

“Did I call it? Or did I call it?” Jin looks at you with his stupid smug ass face.

“Listen! It’s nothing!” You throw that damp rag you’re wiping down a table with in his direction.

“It’s not nothing! I can smell your pent up sexual frustration for him from here. You guys are gonna be alone for several hours making art together? What is he, Swayze?”

“Men and women can be platonic friends! You’re not thinking very progressively here, old man.”

“Of course, men and women can be platonic friends.” He says gesturing at the air between you. “But you and what’s his fuck, Junglebook, you said? You two, cannot.”

“Your lack of faith in me is astounding.”

“I wouldn’t call it a lack of faith in you, more of an educated assumption… And a lack of faith in both of you.” He smirks. Asshole.

“Fuck you.” You deadpan.

“You know you love me y/nie.” He blows you a kiss.

“You’re lucky I do.”

---

You: I can bring the supplies over whenever you’re ready, just lemme know! Thank you for letting me come over there, it would be hard for creative juices flowing with Joon hovering over us all night. Trying to figure out a deep psychological reason for me painting a flower yellow lmao

You: Oh! And wear clothes you don’t mind getting paint on, stains are inevitable :)

And send.

Okay listen to me you dumb bitch. You can do this. We got this. For fuck sake why are you so nervous? Pull yourself together! Just enough to prove Jin and Jimin wrong. Do it just to rub it in their faces! Fuck. What are you 12? We can hang out alone with him. This is stupid. I’m stupid. It’s fine. Everything is fine! Shut up.

Tight Buns McCute-Dog: You can come over now, I’m just gonna change real quick, the door is unlocked! (:

After receiving that reply, instead of him just cancelling, you were relieved he was still willing to help you. However it didn’t help the whole sweating from your ass cheeks with nerves, thing. So overall about the same. Great.

Doing an abstract painting in these mental conditions will result in accidentally painting several phallic shapes. A Freudian Slip of the wrist if you will.

After a couple deep breaths, effectively shoving half your feelings deep into the crevices of your mind, and changing his contact name, just for good measure. You grab all the supplies you’ll need and walk across the hall.

You struggle to open your door while balancing your small box of acrylics, easel and canvas in your arms. Deciding to abandon your easel in the hall for a second while you knock on your neighbor’s door a couple times before you turn the knob.

Bread is already eager and yipping at you for attention while you attempt to bring everything in and set it up to the side of the living room adjacent to the kitchen.

---

Jungkook opens your texts and mouths a small ‘oh shit’ not wanting to keep you waiting, but quickly regretting his decision to work out right before he saw you. He wanted to look a little extra muscley but didn’t consider that he’d be a sweaty mess after doing so.

He settles for telling you he’s changing and hopes you take a few minutes to gather your things so he can blow dry his hair a little.

Your presence in his apartment is made known when he hears his dog barking and scuttling around. He gives his hair a quick tousel, throws on one of his many black hoodies and a little spritz of cologne.

Jungkook emerges from his bedroom to find you fumbling with your easel. Cute.

“Do you need help?” he asks through a giggle.

“Nope! Got everything a hundred percent under control over here.” Your sentence punctuated by your canvas falling to the floor. “Shit.”

“Allow me.” he says handing you the canvas.

“Thank you.” you breath and run a hand through your hair.

“So what’s the plan? I hope you’re not expecting any Sistine Chapel level work from me.” he chuckles.

“A bunch of naked babies and a priest with the ears of an ass? I appreciate that you don’t bring that to the table.” you raise your brows.

“Point taken.”

“The plan is no plan. I mean I wanted to go for something abstract because it’s fun and doesn’t require a lot of brain power. Just put the brush where you think it should go.” you mime a couple brush strokes in the air.

“Sounds easy enough, paint from the heart.” he confirms, patting his chest for emphasis.

“Oh, I did think one of us could be in charge of warm colors and tints, and the other could do cool colors and shades, and see where that takes us.” you look up expectantly, hoping he likes your almost-plan.

“Sounds interesting.” He looks at the empty canvas, eyes scanning for possibilities. “Which do you want?”

“I’m partial to cool colors, myself.”

“Then today, I’m partial to warm.” he smirks. “So are we just feeling what we feel in the moment or is there an emotion we’re trying to convey?” He turns to you, eyes expectant.

You pause for a second, unsure if you should abandon the theme you were pondering for this piece before you knew Jungkook would be your partner in creation. “Is it too cliche if the theme was ‘love’?” You ask him hesitantly. Immediately regretting not just saying ‘nah man, just throw paint at that bitch.’

But much to your surprise.

“Not at all, it’s a ‘cliche’ for a reason.” He states nonchalantly. “Love is powerful. Whether it’s the painful bit or the part that makes you feel untouchable.”

A certain fondness hits his eyes that tells you he’s speaking from experience but you don’t pry.

“I’m glad you like the idea.” you smile, relief filling you after he doesn’t exhibit any signs of being uncomfortable.

He claps his large palms together. “Shall we get started, Miss y/n?” His gaze once directed at the blank canvas, now fully on you.

“Choose your weapon, Mr. Jungkook.” You feign a serious tone, giving him a small handful of various brushes. Keeping a few of your favorites for yourself.

You push your box paints toward him indicating he can grab what he likes. Normally you’re a bit protective over your art supplies, seeing as not only are they stupid expensive, but you care for your tools a lot. You wouldn’t let your klutzy brother within a ten foot radius of your things when you were growing up and even now your blood boils if he’s anywhere near your expertly sorted colored pencils. But Jungkook is always gentle and seeing the way he meticulously places small globs of white, reds, and yellows onto his palette, you know you’ve made a good choice in trusting him.

He steps slightly back letting you put the first ceremonial brush stroke of charcoal black diagonally across the upper most half of your canvas. He joins shortly after deciding to start with white in contrast with your black, laying down some bases for shapes and choosing to run his brush through to disturb the various lines you’ve made, dragging the two tones into a fading grey.

As your mind wanders towards the way his slender tattooed fingers wrap delicately around the paint brush you quickly come to the conclusion that it’s time to play some background music. Absentmindedly sticking the handle of the brush between your teeth to grab your phone and open your music library.

“What kind of music do you like?” You turn to him, the thin strip of wood in your mouth giving you a slight lisp.

“I’m not picky, play whatever you want.” he says warmly but his brow still furrowed with concentration while he finishes up his base layer.

As his answer didn’t do much in the way of helping your quest, you opted for the safety of one of those throwback playlists spotify procures for their listeners, the 90’s one to be exact. Everybody loves some good nostalgia, and it may aid in the sincerity of your painting. Past emotions and whatnot.

The first song that comes on after you hit shuffle is Heart-Shaped Box by Nirvana and you hum in content. Jungkook on the other hand is pleasantly taken aback by your song choice.

“Oh shit yeah! I love Nirvana!” He smiles brightly, taking his crinkling eyes off his work for the first time since you started.

“Everybody loves Nirvana.” you tease him and roll your eyes at the possibility of him being one of those frat boys that ‘misses Kurt Cobain so much’ but can only name Smells Like Teen Spirit and maybe Aneurysm if you’re lucky.

Jungkook, sensing your tone, smirks and runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “You think so, huh?” he bemuses, rolling up his sleeve to uncover this inked skin. Across his forearm is a quote reading ‘rather be dead than cool,’ a lyric from their song Stay Away. He watches you with a quirked brow.

“I stand corrected.” you hold your hands up in defense. Trying not to let the way his inked skin hugs his veins increases your heart rate become too apparent on your features. “You do indeed love Nirvana.” your emphasis on the word being placed differently this time.

“Never doubt me again y/n.” He eyes you suspiciously. “I’ll get more tattoos just to spite you.” He narrows his eyes to add validity to his semi-empty threat.

“I will never doubt you again, scouts honor.” you say playfully saluting him.

“Now start the song over. Your lack of faith in me, made me miss half the song.” he points a finger at your phone.

“I can’t, I don’t have premium.” you let out a heavy sigh.

“What?! That’s dumb. You suffer through those god awful ads?” He screws his face up in disgust.

“Eh, I don’t mind too much.” You shrug. “I don’t wanna spend the extra money every month.”

“Okay, I guess that’s fair.” He squints at you as you pick up your brush again. “Why don’t you just use my account? I’ll text you my login.” He says fishing for his phone in his pocket.

“That’s completely unnecessary.” You laugh, and wave for him to stop. “You’re already helping me out so much with this.” you gesture to the now less blank canvas in front of you.

“I really don’t mind. What’s the worst that could happen? We expand our music libraries? Oh no!” he pretends to gasp and you roll your eyes. “And besides, I’ll sleep better at night knowing I saved a soul from those creepy ass vitamin water commercials.” He chuckles.

“You really don’t have to.” Your eyes softening at his seemingly endless stream of kindness.

“Already sent you the login, too late.” he says, sucking in a breath as if to say ‘what a shame.’

“Thank you, Jungkook.” you say as you gently grab his forearm and run your thumb over it.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles. “Back to work now!” he declares, sticking his paint brush, that at some point in your conversation tucked it’s way behind his ear, into his small mountain of yellow.

You work like this together for a while. Humming along to your music, that is now playing off Jungkook’s phone after he insisted he didn’t wanna hear ‘Colonel Suck-My-Ass’ sing about his chicken deals one more time. The two of you working together seamlessly; the way you blend your colors and make textures complimenting each other nicely. Switching sides of the canvas every so often so it remains balanced.

After about an hour of being immersed in your work Jungkook turns to you. “Noodle break?” He asks you frowning at his empty tummy.

Your brush stutters on the canvas at his words, your stomach not realizing it’s been hours since you’ve eaten until he mentions food. “That sounds wonderful, actually.”

“One or two packets?” he asks making his way into the kitchen.

“Just one is good.” you smile, setting your brush into your cup of water. You follow him into the kitchen. “Where do you store your liquid?” you ask standing between the pantry and the fridge, looking lost.

“Fridge.” he answers giving his approval to let you grab the two of you some drinks.

“I see you guys finally went grocery shopping.” you chuckle at the butter and cartons of eggs in his fridge.

“What?- oh right, yeah. Finally dragged Hobi out earlier today.” His smile not quite meeting his eyes while he opens up three packets of ramen, and waits for the water to boil.

“Can I steal a soda?”

“Yeah, just not the sprite. Hobi can and will throw a fit.” his tone far more serious than the situation calls for.

“Well damn, okay.” you say and grab a coke for both of you.

“Thank you.” He smiles and your fingertips brush perhaps a little too long when you hand him his drink.

He pulls the tab, puts the cold metal to his lips and you watch the way his throat bobs up and down with every swig. When you feel yourself staring your ears heat up, and turn your gaze to the water starting to roll in the pot.

As Jungkook is finishing up cooking the ramen, the song changes to Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls, you let out a small gasp and start to sing along. He smiles at your apparent love for the song and starts to harmonize with you to encourage you to keep going. Which, much to his dismay, did the exact opposite.

“Jeon Jungkook!” you scold. “I didn’t know you had such a beautiful voice!”

“It’s alright, I guess.” He breathes out and rubs the back of his neck a little embarrassed. “You’re not too bad yourself.” He looks at you with those big doe eyes. And you swear you’ll only look at them for a couple more seconds, as not to fall under their spell. A half hearted oath at best.

But you start to sing again, you tell yourself it’s to make the most of the song while it’s on but really, you just want to hear honeyed voice hit your ears again. And it does, eyes closed tightly and mouth wide to control his sound. You can’t hold a tune to save your life but the way he carries your sounds with his, it doesn’t matter. Your song is beautiful.

After your musical interruption, you take your bowls to the table and slurp away at your noodles. All the while Bread is at your heels begging ever so sweetly, which Jungkook scolds but ultimately ends up throwing him a noodle when his bowl is just about gone.

You take your bowl to the sink but when you start rinsing Jungkook comes over to push you out of the way so he can take care of it himself. You stand your ground for a minute but lose the silent argument due to his advantage of stature. You mutter a small ‘fuck you’ before you return to the canvas, and he smiles contently to himself.

Jungkook joins you back at your station, stepping back for a moment to assess where the two of you left off and what he’d like to add. He lets his eyes run over the varying sized lines and the way they come together but also fight one another in some spots. Some colors as bright as the sun and others look like the depths of the ocean. All coming together in a way that only really makes sense to the two of you.

You finished what was left of your drink and picked up your brush, dipping straight into your black paint for the second time since you started like you were on a mission. You drew a fluid line near the center curving over a few existing splotches, near the end of your brush stroke it became jagged and split off into several directions. A pessimist would call it a shatter, an optimist would call it several opportune paths, and a realist would probably just call it a painting. But Jungkook did none of those things.

“Y/n, have you ever been in love?” He asked as if he had only asked what time it was. He started swirling some colors together while he waited for an answer.

You blinked, trying not to show how much that question shocked you. “I suppose…” you breathed, actually struggling to come up with a real answer. “I mean, last time I was in a serious relationship was in highschool.” You trailed off. “I don’t know if I can say I’ve been in love but I’ve loved someone before… I feel like being in love sticks with you in a different way. More of a life experience than a life lesson.” You scrunched up your face a little, hoping he’d be satisfied with your answer even though you yourself weren’t.

He nodded, taking in your words. “I think being in love can be just as much a life lesson as ‘lesser relationships,’ if not more so.” He adds putting air quotes as not to come across the wrong way. “But hopefully you end up with more positive lessons than not.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Like learning how you love and need to be loved. What you deserve and what you won’t put up with. Learn to let yourself be loved-” You stop your word vomit after that last comment, feeling a bit vulnerable. “Those kinds of things?” you let out a little laugh.

“Exactly.”

“Is it fair to assume that you have?” You question, hesitating slightly.

“That I have what?”

“Been in love, dummy.” You laugh, strategically placing a light green around the canvas.

He pauses slightly. “Yeah, I have.” The same fondness that found his eyes earlier that day sets in again. Not in a painful or bitter way, you noted. But in the way you’d regard your favorite childhood memory.

“I didn’t rub salt in a wound, did I?” you tensed slightly incase you read him wrong.

“No no, you’re fine!” He reassures. “It was a long time ago. Don’t get me wrong, it hurt like a bitch in the moment, but as they say, time heals all wounds.” he shrugs.

“Can I ask what happened?” You prompted, feeling a little braver this time.

“Well you know, same old story with high school sweethearts.” He paused to fix a spot he didn’t like. “She was a year older than me. She left for university. We tried long distance and after a few months we decided it was too hard. Nothing particularly spectacular.” He tells the story, for what you can tell is at least the thousandth time. “What about you and Mr. Not-Quite-In-Love?”

“Nothing, super special either. Unfortunately, the lessons I learned from him were less than positive. After the initial honeymoon phase, he didn’t treat me the best. Looking back I learned to know the level of respect I deserve, but in the moment his lack of just made me desperate to ‘earn’ it. It was a vicious cycle for about a year but things ended and I grew up. And like you said, ‘time heals all wounds.’” Jungkook looked at you with furrowed brows, not sure if he wants to hug you or the seventeen year old girl you used to be who would see herself as anything less than what she was. But he settled for the former.

He wrapped his arms around you, taking you by surprise. But you accept his embrace and smile against his shoulder. “I’m okay now Jungkook.” You giggle. “It was a long time ago and I learned from it.”

He pulls away. “I know, I’m just sorry it took that dickbag for you to know your worth.” he gives you a sheepish smile, and a fire in his eyes dulls when he looks at you.

“Thank you, you’re very sweet.” you pat his arm before you both turn back to your respective parts of the canvas.

“Hey, just cause I’m not a complete asshole, doesn’t mean I’m sweet.”

“I’m holding firm at you’re sweet, and you can’t change my mind.” You both laugh and return your full attention back to your work.

Your rhythm returns to where it was before you ate. Both of you humming along to whatever song is playing at the moment, using your paint brushes as microphones if a particularly good song came on. Exchanging a few words here and there. Each admiring the small things the other chooses to add to the work of art. You noticed Jungkook has a habit of biting his lips when he’s concentrating. Cute.

Now here you finally are after another hour of blending, layering, and tweaking. Both of you put down your brushes down and stepped back slightly to admire what you’ve created. Letting out a sigh at your hard work, taking in the finalized piece. The way the colors run together or bump into one another. The juxtaposition of fluid lines being interrupted by jagged edges. The way the soberness of the colors you put down calm and soothe the firey and vibrant ones he laid down for you.

Ordinarily, when you finish a painting, you never quite feel done. There’s always one more thing you could fix, one more stroke you could add. But not this time. It’s finished. Breathtaking in a simple way. You’ve never felt such a sense of completeness when you set your brush down, and you can’t help but feel you have Jungkook to thank for it. The way his colors and brush work complemented yours was… for lack of a better term, a work of art.

---

Jungkook puts down his brush, watching you lay down your final touches. Truth be told he’d been watching you out of the corner of his eye the entire time. Checking in on you every so often when you’d put down your tool and furrow your brows in concentration. Smiling when you’d absentmindedly mumble to yourself about what you’re doing. He was in awe of how much of yourself you put down on the canvas, not entirely sure what wordless stories you were telling meant. Though that didn’t stop him from taking the puzzle pieces you laid down and arranging them into a y/n shaped jigsaw in his mind. Perhaps your fondness of calming colors was to tame the wild fire he could see within you.

And just as quickly as you’d started, you were done, setting your brush down and smiling at what you saw in front of you.

“Thank you so much, Jungkook.” You breathe still taking in the painting. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, it is.” He says just above a whisper, never taking his eyes off your beaming profile.

“Hm?” You turn to him. He looks into your eyes, once filled with fire are now a calm ocean. His gaze shifts to your lips after they form a confused pout at his silence, his body leading his brain when he leans toward you.

It’s now or never.

He leans in further looking into your eyes for any sign of apprehension before he cups your jaw in his paint stained hand. Finally taking the leap all at once when you lean into his touch.

His lips are even softer than you imagined when they meld against yours. He pulls away slightly to look at you a question mark across his features. You put your hands flush against his hard chest and answer his question by reconnecting your lips with his with fervor and you feel him smile against you. He deepens the kiss, putting his free hand on your hip to pull you closer to his warm body.

He swipes his tongue along your bottom lip, testing the waters further. You mirror his action, noting that his lips taste faintly of strawberries. You slide your hands into his soft hair and curl your fingers into fists against his scalp making him groan into your mouth.

His hand that held its feather like touch against your face leaves it’s place to join his other around your waist. His hands squeezing harshly at your hips, his fingers digging into the strip of skin your shirt rode up to expose, making you shiver against him despite your rising temperature.

He pulls away to place sloppy kisses along your jaw, nudging your jaw with his nose gently to gain access to your neck. You suck in a breath when you pull him closer causing his teeth to graze your pulse point as his swollen lips leave rosey marks in their wake. He sucks harshly at the soft spot below your ear causing your nerves to flare and a moan to escape your lips. He groans in satisfaction at the way his actions affect you, running his hot tongue over your skin to soothe the marks he made.

His hands move higher on your abdomen slipping just under the hem of your shirt, making you tense slightly under his calloused palms, he feels your shift and rubs his thumbs below your ribcage to relax your tensed muscles. His gentle fingers vastly opposing his flushed cheeks when he brings his face up to yours again, his hair already messy and his eyes dazed as he looks at your lips like they’re the first glass of water he’s seen in days. He crashes his lips back into yours hungrily causing you to squeak at his desperation. You disconnect your lips leaving almost no distance between you.

“Bedroom?” you ask lowley against his lips, your vocal chords betraying you making the word come out far more shaky and less sexy than you wanted. His shoulders flex under your hands at his request.

Jungkook slides his hands down your ass to squeeze the flesh in his hands when his finger tips graze the back of your thighs.

“Up.” he says firmly, offering you free transport to his bed. You hop up, his strong arms hold you and you wrap your legs tightly around his narrow waist. He starts the small walk to his bedroom, and you try to ignore the way his stomach pressed against your clothed clit is providing the smallest amount of friction with each of his steps, instead deciding to direct your attention to him instead. You give a gentle open mouthed kiss to the small mole on the side of his neck, you make a small path sucking where his jaw meets his neck, and he hums deeply making his chest rumble against yours in response.

When you reach his room, the smell of his fabric softener fills your lungs as he presses your back against his now closed door. His hands trail from your ass, trusting you to hold yourself up around him, up your sides, he slides your arms from around his neck and to the wall until your hands are effectively pinned above your head. The air between you is heavy for a moment as his dark eyes take in how you look like this, your eyes starry as your chest rises and falls in anticipation of his next move.

He kisses you again, slower this time. You whimper into his mouth when his hips grind his hard dick into your clit. His thighs flexing under yours as he grinds up again harder, swallowing as many of your beautiful sounds as you’ll give him.

He stops his hips and tucks his arms under you again to set you on his bed.

You reach your shirt to pull it over your head but he stops you.

“Let me.” He says half a statement, half a question.

You smile and say nothing but grant him permission by raising your arms above your head. He hooks his fingers into the hem of your shirt grazing your skin making goosebumps blossom on your flesh as he pulls it up and over your head. He reaches for the clasp of your bra slowly and gently like you might break, as if he wasn’t just shoving you against his door with his cock.

“Fuck.” He breathes out harshly when your hardened nipples are finally released to the cool air of his room.

He quickly strips off his hoodie revealing that he’s been painting without a shirt underneath the whole night. Your breath hitches as all the times you’d touched his arm or chest the hours prior, not knowing there was only a thin barrier between your fingers and his skin. You run your eyes over his bare chest and hard stomach, you knew he worked out but hot damn, those baggy clothes he wears does no justice to what’s under them. However he doesn’t give you much time to marvel before he reconnects his lips with yours leaning into you until your back is on his duvet, you spread your legs to make room for him to settle in between.

His hot skin drags softly against your nipples as he descends down your frame to pepper kisses along the valley of your breasts. He licks his fingers to roll one of your nipples between his wet digits while he attaches his mouth the other, swirling his tongue in intoxicating circles. You sigh at the small relief his mouth is bringing you and tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging roughly when his teeth bite down onto your sensitive bud. You feel the bed bow slightly below you as his hips stutter at your action. He quickly tends to the small sting with his tongue. Giving a gentle kiss to your nipple as he pulls away.

He sits up and hooks his fingers into your pants, but stops before tugging them down. “Is this okay?” He asks sincerely.

“Very.” You say, your heart clenching at his concern and help him slide your pants to your ankles, eager to have his soft skin on yours again.

He brings his lips to your neck again and you wrap your legs around his waist rocking your hips up to rub your neglected clit against his rigid cock that he has yet to spring free. The wet spot on your panties rubbing off onto his sweats. You moan into his ear at the small relief you’re able to bring yourself, arching your back further in attempt to get more friction and he chuckles against your skin.

“Patience, sweetheart.” He smirks down at you and your feeble attempt to feel his cock.

“Don’t wanna be patient. Want you to fuck me.” You say trying your best not to whine, as you reach for the waistband of his pants.

He runs his tongue along his lip and leans down until his lips brush the shell of your ear. “Oh, don’t worry beautiful, I will.” He moves your hands and rolls his hips into yours once to punctuate his sentence. “But I wanna taste you first.” He says and quickly sits back on his knees to slip your underwear down your legs, tossing them behind him not worrying about where they land.

He settles his shoulders under the back of your thighs and makes a path of open mouth kisses from your knee to your inner thigh, stopping right before your sex and inhaling deeply as he sucks a bruise into your skin, your face heats up and your hips shake in excitement.

“You smell fucking delicious, sweetheart.” he looks up at you with soft doe eyes that completely contradict his filthy words. He lingers just a whisper away from where you want him and you roll your hips to meet his lips. He smirks again at your frustration moving his lips to your other knee to make a wet path up your other leg with his mouth, seeing how long he can push you. Stopping midthigh to speak again into your skin.

“I wanna take my time with you sweets. Greedy little girls don’t get to cum on my tongue.” His eyes darken when they look up at you, his words sending electricity through your nerves and arousal dripping onto his sheets.

You opt for silently nodding as the only thing you could muster at the moment is a whine that you want to keep at bay.

“Are you gonna take what I give you, sweetheart?” He says rubbing circles into your hip.

“Yes, Sir.” You breathe trying your best not to roll your hips into his touch and get scolded again.

“Good girl.” He smiles at your compliance and finally gives you what you want.

He licks a long flat stripe up your slit, collecting your arousal on his tongue and swirling it around your throbbing clit. Your thighs tighten around his head and he groans against you.

“Taste even sweeter than I imagined.” He all but moans into your folds. He swears he could get off just like this, with his tongue buried in your cunt and his hips rocking his cock into his mattress.

You reach down and tangle your fingers in his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer to you. He obliges you and wraps his lips around your clit sucking harshly, crude slurping noises filling the room but both of you are too lost in the sensation to care. Your hips start rocking against his mouth again, this time your body fully taking a mind of its own, your climax being the only thing you can think about.

“That’s my good girl, use my tongue to get off.” You moan louder at his words and speed up your movements, balling his hair into fists. As he looks up at you with lidded eyes, he gets lost, lost in your taste, lost in the way your sweaty chest heaves with your heavy breaths, lost in the way his name falls from your lips with your eyes screwed shut.

“I’m s-so fucking close!” your voice comes out in a strained moan cracking at the end of your sentence.

“Cum for me beautiful, wanna taste your cum.” He says wrapping his lips around your clit again to pull your orgasm from you. He may have called you greedy, but he couldn’t get enough of the way your thighs shook around him.

“Holy shit! Jungkook!” your orgasm hits you like a wave starting in your stomach and sending fire through your veins. Your hips stutter and Jungkook licks you languidly through your high. All the while your mouth mutters his name in an incoherent mantra.

He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and climbs over you leaning on his forearms, and captures your lips in his. You taste yourself on them and smile against his mouth.

“You look so beautiful when you cum.” He says placing soft kisses along your jaw. And you’re glad he can’t see the way your cheeks flare at his comment. “Think you can still take my cock?” he says squeezing himself at the base through his pants.

“God yes.” You say perhaps a little too enthusiastically and he chuckles at you.

“You really are a greedy one, aren’t you sweetheart?” He says teasingly. “Let me get you ready first.” He says rubbing his thumb in small circles on your clit, your sensitivity makes you jump a little.

He looks down to watch the way your velvet walls swallow his fingers, but he stops his movement, realizing his hands are still covered in paint.

“Shit.” He mutters almost silently. “I’ll be right back.” He says with a smile pecking your lips before he slips out his door. Closing it behind him just in case, as not to let Hobi unknowingly come home early only to find you spread eagle on his roommates bed.

What the hell is he doing? Your eyebrows furrow, worried he’s gonna get some sort of convoluted sex toy. Which while you wouldn’t normally object, that’s a tad presumptuous on his part.

Your mental ramble cut short and worries put to rest when he reenters the room with clean hands. He strips his sweats from his hips and climbs back over you.

“Sorry, I didn’t want you to get some sort of paint-chemical related rash on your… lady bits.” He says hesitantly breathing out a laugh against your cheek.

“While that’s incredibly considerate of you. That sentence didn’t do much for my ‘lady bits’.” you know what his venom filled tongue is capable of, so his childish use of words makes you giggle.

He rolls his eyes at you and cups your face, pulling you in for another deep kiss. His hand snakes down between your legs and when his thumb connects with your clit you squeak and break the kiss.

“Your hands are freezing.” you say with more of a pout than you’re willing to admit. You presume he didn’t wanna make you wait too long so he washed his hands in cold water.

“Why don’t you warm them up for me?” he quirks a brow and smirks. Bringing his hand up to your mouth and sticking his middle and ring finger between your lips. You happily wrap your lips around his digits; licking, sucking, and humming in content around them.

Jungkook’s cock twitches in his boxers as he watches your cheeks hollow slightly around his slender fingers, resisting from pushing them deeper in your mouth and seeing how pretty you look when you gag for him.

He removes his hand from your mouth, marveling at the string of saliva that follows it. He reaches down to tease your entrance letting your spit and arousal get you ready for his stretch. He slips his fingers into your dripping core and has to hold back from moaning at how well you hug him.

“Your pussy is so tight, sweetheart.” He breathes. “Your sweet cunt is gonna squeeze me real well won’t it?” He says catching your bottom lip between his teeth. You can’t help but clench around his fingers. “That’s my good girl.” He says, his eyes darkening and he curls into your sweet spot, you moan at how quickly he seems to be learning your body. Like he could figure out exactly what makes you tick if you stayed in his bed for just a while longer.

He removes his fingers making you whimper. He slips his boxers down a little and uses your arousal and his precum to wet his dick. Your mouth waters and you clench around nothing at how beautiful he looks slowly pumping himself with furrowed brows, until now he’s done a good job of not showing how badly his body demands to be touched just as much as yours does.

He lines himself with your entrance and teases your clit with the tip of his cock, fighting the urge to slam himself into you to the hilt.

“Do you want me to grab a condom?” he says mere millimeters away from slipping into you.

“I’m on the pill.” you reassure and gasp at how close he is to giving you everything you wanted since he crashed his lips into yours at the easel. Or possibly before that.

That’s all he needed to hear before he pushed his cock past your entrance and into your wet pussy, the stretch he’s giving you making you thank him silently for insisting on warming you up first.

“Fuck.” You both moan at how well you squeeze around him. He goes slow, inching in to give you time to adjust. You wrap your legs around his waist to encourage him deeper. He continues his slow pace breathing hot and thick against your neck.

He sits up to watch how he disappears inside you. “Look how well you take my cock, sweetheart.” He says picking up some speed in his thrusts. You moan at how well he hits every spot in you that’s been left untouched tonight, his dirty words only further building the pressure in your pelvis.

His thrusts become harder and you reach up you brace yourself on his biceps, his muscles flexing while he supports his weight above you. He angles his hips up slightly hitting your sweet spot perfectly, and you nearly yelp at the sensation, digging your nails into his arms making him hiss.

“Right there? Is that how your little pussy likes it?” He feigns a subtle innocence in his voice. Like he can’t see with his own eyes how well he’s fucking you.

“Yes, fuck! Please don’t stop.” you beg, mostly to get him to do just that, but also because of the sweaty fog his delicious cock has worked into your mind isn’t exactly allowing you to form the most intelligent of sentences.

He sits back on his knees and pushes one of your legs to your chest, his dick hitting deeper than you thought possible making your eyes roll back and your jaw slack. Your moans become uncontrollable and the words you’re attempting to say just come out in broken sounds.

“Such a good slut for me, look at you falling apart on my cock.” his voice almost a growl. “You gonna cum soon, sweetheart?” He says with a voice like silk to mask how close he is himself.

You can’t do more than nod fractically at his words in fear your voice will betray you. He rubs your clit with his thumb to earn your second climax from you.

And you do, your walls tighten around his cock but his pace doesn’t falter. Your legs shake and your eyes roll back. You cover your mouth to muffle a scream. Your orgasm ripping through you so hard you feel like you might burst.

Jungkook hisses at how hard you’re squeezing him and fucks you through your high. He reaches to his headboard to fuck into you harder, being selfish for the first time tonight, using you to chase his own high.

“Where do you want it?” He says in a stifled whine.

“Cum inside Jungkook. I want you to fill me up.” You say pressing your nails into his chest. The overstimulation you feel in your core is worth every thrust when he finally lets go and fills you with his cum. His cock twitching as he slowly rides out his climax.

He collapses on top of you, breathing heavily into your neck. Then rolls over to the other side of the bed, to allow both of you some cool air on your skin.

“I hope I didn’t go too hard at the end there, are you okay?” He looks over at you with worried eyes.

“No. No it’s okay, I liked it.” you smile, your lungs and heart rate working hard to steady themselves.

After he’s caught his breath a little he reaches into his bedside table to get a small rag to wipe up some of his cum leaking out of you, and you suddenly feel very vulnerable at his thoughtful gesture.

The post sex clarity hitting your mind, not quite in the way you hoped. As you lay there the height of what you two just did sending your mind go into overdrive.

Oh fuck. You run through the events of the night starting to panic a little. He’s my friend, how did this even happen? I wasn’t gonna do this. I wasn’t gonna let this get more complicated than my attraction to him already was. Shit, I’m an idiot. I mean he did kiss me, but… I can’t let this happen again. I don’t want this to end badly and have to move just because I think with my idiot vagina. It makes things too complicated. Okay, I have to end whatever that was now before things get even more complicated. He won’t mind right? He’s a college dude, he’s probably fine with just hittin’ it and quittin’ it. Yeah, everything is good. Friends can fuck once and then be good, it happens all the time.

You sit up from his bed and run your hands through your hair a couple times in an attempt to tame it and start to pick up your clothes.

“Are you okay?” He says, watching you as you attempt to find your underwear.

“Yeah, I’m good, just have an early class in the morning and I should probably get going.” you force a smile.

“Oh, uh okay.” He says not quite convinced. Though you weren’t lying about that, you really did have a class in about seven hours.

“Hey um,” you hesitate, sliding your pants on just choosing to abandon your underwear. “This was just a one time thing, right?” you ask him, hating the way you said that.

He senses your tone and feels a little twinge in his chest, but he ignores it, putting on a smile instead. “Yeah, definitely. Why do you ask?”

“Okay, good.” Another twinge. “I just don’t want things to be too complicated, with us being neighbors and all…” You trail off, trying not to cringe at yourself.

“Yeah, that makes sense.” He pauses, realizing for the first time that this could have negative consequences. “No worries, it’s forgotten. Just friends.” He reassures pulling his pants on.

“Just friends.” You smile and extend your hand to him. You shake on it.

You pull your shirt over your head.

“See you later, neighbor.” You say attempting to bring back the way things were just an hour ago. And you slip out his door.

He doesn’t walk you home like he normally does, and honestly you’re thankful. You just want to be back in your apartment where you can pretend that didn’t just happen. Even if that was one of the best fucks you've ever had, you're certainly not going to think about it. What is there to think about? Nothing happened.

You slip out his door, and into yours, met with Jimin munching in your kitchen, presumably after a party and your feet halt in their tracks.

“Damn babe, you look positively wrecked.” He says with a knowing smirk.

“Jimin, I am so not in the mood for whatever you’re about to say.” you say exasperated.

“Oh, so I should save the ‘I told you so’? Would you rather get it in the morning?” He asks innocently, though he’s anything but.

“Preferably never.” You quip and slip into your bedroom.

Yeah, never is good, we’re just gonna pretend none of that happened.

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

Taglist: @taezeus @spoopysoph @gucci-prince-tae @jiminiesthiccthighs @veryuniquenamegoeshere @hermiones-enchantment @irissilujm @flo-music @scalbra @sugarrimajins @embrace-themagic @megsmiiiii @nerdycookiemonster-1222 @livorna

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darlingandmreames · 4 years ago

Text

(also on ao3)

Eames sighed as another drop of water hit his face. No matter where he sat he seemed to be directly under something that was leaking; at this rate he’d still be wet by the time they woke up in 3 days, and that was not a pleasant prospect. “You did realize we’d actually have to stay in these places when you designed them, right?”

Ariadne shrugged. “They were all designed for Fischer to be held hostage in, and it needed to feel authentic. Besides,” she shot Yusuf a look, “I didn’t realize we’d be dealing with heavy rain the entire time.”

“I already apologized for that four times, I’m not doing it a fifth.” Yusuf frowned. “And it was free champaign! How was I supposed to turn that down?”

“With a polite smile and the knowledge that you were going to be unconscious for the next 10 hours.” Eames groaned and stood up slowly. “I’m going to go join Arthur in keeping an eye out. You kids get some sleep.”

He could still hear Yusuf grumbling as he walked over to the garage door. Arthur was seated next to it, a dent in the metal making it possible to see the general area outside without the door being open. He was watching it intently, gun in hand, as Eames sat down beside him. “Any sign of the projections?”

“No, we still seem to be good.”

Eames glanced over Arthur’s shoulder, trying to see out into the dark. “If they haven’t come after us yet, I’d say they probably aren’t going to at all. They don’t have any reason to now that we’ve left Fischer alone.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Arthur shrugged, still looking outside. “Doesn’t hurt to be prepared though.”

Eames nodded, watching Arthur as they fell into silence, the rain outside and Yusuf and Ariadne’s conversation in the other room the only noise around them. He’d been quiet the past couple of days which wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary for him, but his quietness wasn’t usually this tense. Eames had a decent guess what was behind it but Arthur had kept himself busy and generally away from the rest of them over the past few days. He wasn’t exactly much of a conversationalist at the best of times, and he seemed particularly keen on not talking right now.

They sat in silence for a while, Arthur watching outside carefully. Eames went between watching the rain fall and watching Arthur’s profile in the dim light. He was tense, on guard, even though both of them knew they likely weren’t in any danger. If Fischer’s projections hadn’t attacked them by now, it was unlikely they would at all. At least not as long as they left Fischer alone. Yusuf and Ariande's conversation faded behind them, the two of them clearly taking Eames up on his suggestion to get some sleep, until there was just rain and silence. Arthur didn't get any less tense as the minutes passed though, gripping his gun tightly. Eames watched him carefully. "You alright?"

"Of course." Arthur's tone was short and clipped. Not the voice of someone interested in conversation. "I'm fine."

"You've just been a bit…tense the past couple of days is all."

"We're not out of danger until we wake up, and it'll be another 3 days before that happens. Of course I'm tense."

"Right. Yeah. Of course." They fell back into an uncomfortable silence. Eames watched as Arthur tightened his grip on the gun. He hesitated, wondering for a moment if he should just let this lie. Arthur clearly didn’t want to talk. But wanting to talk and needing to talk were two different things. "He's going to be alright."

"Who?"

"Cobb."

Arthur's shoulders hunched slightly and he looked down. When he spoke again after a moment his voice was curt and hard. "You should go get some sleep. There's no use in both of us keeping watch."

"Arthur, you…"

"I'm fine, Eames. Get some rest."

"It's not your fault, it…"

"Yes, it is." Arthur's response was immediate and Eames flinched at the harsh tone. "It was my job to check Fischer's background thoroughly. His sub-security shouldn't have been a surprise. I fucked up. I fucked up and Saito got shot and Cobb followed him into limbo, and that's entirely fucking on me." His voice cracked slightly at the end and he looked back down, taking a deep breath. "If I'd done my job properly we wouldn't be here."

Eames stared at him, shocked. He'd heard Arthur angry before, his words harsh and tone hard, but not like this. This wasn't anger. This was pain. "You're good at what you do, Arthur. The best. There's no question. But you're not perfect. No one is. People make mistakes. They miss things. It happens to everyone, even you." He paused, considering his next words carefully. “And…even if you had found absolutely everything, you still wouldn’t have had all the information. Cobb deliberately withheld information about the job from us, and you know as well as I do that he brought shit in here with him. We would’ve faced fire from Fischer’s security regardless, but I guarantee we faced a hell of a lot more because of the freight train Cobb brought through that intersection.”

“It was still my job though. It was my job and I missed it.” Arthur’s voice was quieter now and he seemed to draw in on himself. “It’s my fault.”

“Arthur.” Eames rested his hand gently on Arthur’s arm. “Arthur, darling, look at me.” Arthur wouldn’t look at him fully, but he turned enough that Eames could see the pain in his expression in the dim light. “Don’t blame yourself for this. You made a mistake, yes, but this isn’t all your fault. And Cobb made his own choice. I know you’re worried, but his decision to stay in limbo was his and the consequences of that decision fall on him, not you.”

Arthur looked away again, not saying anything. He didn’t pull his arm away though, and after a moment Eames moved closer, sliding his hand to Arthur’s back and moving his thumb back and forth in what he hoped was a comforting motion. He could feel the tension in Arthur’s body, like a rubber band that had been stretched too tight, ready to snap. Eames thought back over the past couple of days, to Arthur’s strained silence and tight expressions. Maybe that wasn’t really that inaccurate.

“And what if he’s not?”

Eames looked over, Arthur’s question surprising him slightly. He’d figured he’d said all he was willing to say. “Not what?”

“Not alright.” He was still speaking quietly. “What if he loses himself down there? You can say he’ll be alright all you want, but we both know there’s the very real possibility that neither he nor Saito will make it back. Who explains that to Miles? To his kids?” Arthur was gripping his sleeves tightly, distinctly not looking at Eames. “That’s all he wanted, Eames. To get back to them. I watched him after Mal died, after he had to go on the run. I saw what it did to him to have to leave James and Philippa. I followed him around the fucking world on job after job even after he started fucking them up and stopped being able to keep Mal out of them because I wanted to see him get home eventually. And I-” Eames could hear the tell-tale hitch in his breathing as he took another deep breath. “If he loses himself, I’ll be the reason he never made it there.”

“Don’t. Don’t do that, alright?” Eames wrapped his arm around Arthur’s shoulders, running a hand through his hair as he dropped his head, seeming to draw in on himself even more. “Don’t try and carry the blame for things that haven’t even happened. For things that aren’t your fault.”

Arthur needed to talk. Otherwise he’d try to ignore it and bury it and pretend it wasn’t there, that he was fine, and absolutely none of it would go away until he talked about it. Eames knew that. But he also knew the importance of silence sometimes. So he didn’t say anything when he felt Arthur’s breath catch or when his shoulders started shaking slightly, he just pulled him a little closer. Arthur moved easily with him, leaning against his side, bringing a hand to his mouth to try and muffle already quiet sobs. Eames had worked a lot of jobs with Arthur over the years and had seen him in a variety of situations and circumstances. He’d seen Arthur angry, seen him annoyed and frustrated and smug, seen him hold his own in fights that would’ve taken out most other people. But he’d never seen him cry. Extraction was a profession where vulnerability was a weakness and a thing to be avoided, and in all their years working together Eames had never seen Arthur’s carefully built and maintained walls crumble so completely.

Arthur didn’t pull away even after his breathing started evening out again. Instead he leaned further against Eames, some of the tension finally draining out of his shoulders. Not much, but some. “Thank you.”

Eames could still hear the pain in his voice, mixed with sadness and blame. It would be a while before it went away, even once they woke up, even if Cobb was ultimately fine. He knew Arthur well enough to know that. It wasn’t quite as strong though, and Eames would take any victory he could, no matter how small. “Of course, darling.” He ran his hand through Arthur’s hair again, smiling as Arthur leaned into the touch slightly, sniffling quietly. “You should get some rest. I’ve barely seen you sleep these past few days.”

“Is it alright if…if we stay here for a bit?”

“Yeah. That’d be nice, actually.” Eames rested his cheek on the top of Arthur’s head and stared out at the rain falling outside as Arthur settled against him. His hand was resting on Arthur’s upper arm, and after a moment he felt Arthur’s fingers hesitantly brushing against his. He shifted his hand, intertwining their fingers slightly. “We can stay here as long as you want.”

It wasn’t long before Arthur’s breathing started to slow and he relaxed against Eames more fully. It briefly occurred to Eames that maybe he should wake Arthur up before he fell asleep too- he could already feel exhaustion tugging at him and sleeping sitting up like this certainly wouldn’t be the most comfortable option- but he dismissed the thought almost immediately. He could rationalize it as Arthur needed sleep and he might not fall back asleep if Eames woke him up, but he was tired and rationalizing things was more energy than it was worth. Arthur needed comfort. Needed someone there for him. And Eames wanted to be that person. Simple as that. He could figure out what that meant later, when he was less tired and Arthur was less upset. In the meantime, though, it was late and they’d had a long couple of days, and the pull of sleep was quickly getting too strong from Eames to ignore. He closed his eyes, letting the soft sound of rain and warmth of Arthur beside him surround him as he drifted off.

#arthur x eames #arthur/eames #dream husbands #emotional hurt/comfort #dreamhusbands #let's try this again and see if tumblr lets it show up in the arthur x eames tag this time akjsfksdf #fourth time's the charm my dudes #local trash goblin writes stuff

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aureumjeon · 5 years ago

Text

while you’re at it (m) || pjm

pairing; poolboy!jimin x noona!reader.

genre; smut, fluff, tiny angst.

summary; After finalizing your divorce papers, there was still one thing that had to be taken care of. That stupid swimming pool. Over there course of a few days, you ended up harboring feelings for one of your pool boys. Will things go as planned? Or will everything be flushed down the drain?

warnings; brief mentions of divorce, infidelity and toxic relationship, sub!jimin, dom!reader, barely there bondage, exhibitionism, female masturbation, voyeurism, oral sex (both receiving), body worship, tit fucking, noona kink, praise kink(its jimin ofc), mild degradation, impreg kink, its basically jimin being a whiny soft baby for noona, unprotected sex, multiple orgasm, creampies, cum eating

word count; 11K+ (this was supposed to be around 7-8K only, iduno what happened really)

a/n; ahhhhhh! three minutes late but who careeees. im done, i want to sleep. the smut feels so rushed butill fix it... eventually... lmao, unedited as hell, dont mind the errors... will fix someday. bye

@m0chilattae @ruinedbyjin <33

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Breaking away and cutting ties from your previous and definitely toxic marriage was the best decision you've made bar none. You could no longer stomach the abuse that your now ex-husband had put you through. It was a complete and utter living hell being bound to a man who wasn't who you initially thought he was. Having him crossed out of your life (legally, too) made it a million times easier. It has been exactly seven weeks since you chucked out all of his belongings through the front door. No regrets. And you still didn't want to take notice of the huge elephant in the room — or in the backyard per se. There it sat in the middle of the unkempt grassy area surrounded by leaves and trash, in all of its filthy, disgusting, bacteria and algae infested glory. Your dreaded swimming pool.

You had put-off cleaning it the first week after your separation, saying you're too busy doing this or too preoccupied taking care of that. When in all honesty, you just didn't want to deal with it. You had no goddamn idea how to maintain it. Heck, you didn't even know how to swim. Wonwoo was the main reason why the two of you bought a house that came with it after your wedding. He said he wanted to keep his hobby of swimming alive, understandable since that's where it all began. The two of you met at a university swim meet. You were the designated journalist for that event, assigned to interview all the winners after the competition for the school's paper. Wonwoo bagged the gold medal for the two hundred-meter freestyle, and you interviewed interviewed him and that's where it took off. Everything was running smoothly. One by one every item on your life's checklist got checked-off. After five years of dating, he proposed. A year later you got married and purchased a house together and planned on having children. You even put-off your job as a columnist writer for a high-end magazine company to play out the role of a perfect wife who'd soon take care of her children. You had the ideal life with the ideal husband in an ideal house that any married woman could wish for. You had everything, and in your own little world it was perfect. Until two years into your marriage, everything went into turmoil. Wonwoo suddenly grew cold and insensitive. He didn't answer your calls and text messages whenever he was away. He didn't make love to you the way he used to during your honeymoon phase. And sometimes he would just downright refuse, saying he's too tired and that he wants to sleep instead. You endured and tolerated his behavior for another year, giving him a chance to change his ways. But we all know what happens to second chances, they're wasted. One day, Jihyo sent you a picture of Wonwoo sucking faces with a female swim trainer at the city's public pool. You could not believe it at first, you refused to. Until she sent another image, this one clear as day. It was Wonwoo, positively Wonwoo. You called your older brother Yoongi and told him everything that had happened starting from the day your relationship spiraled into disaster. Like any brother would be; he was furious. He didn't kill the guy though, only gave him a black eye and a broken nose before you threw his belongings out on the pavement. To cut the story short, you found love beside a swimming pool and ultimately gotten your heart broken because of it. When people fall out of love, heart breaks are inevitable. All the more reason as to why you just shoved the idea of cleaning the pool under the rug like small particles of dust and dirt. You just wanted to forget about it, pretend like it didn't exist. If you could only haul that thing out of the ground and throw it out like you did to him, it'd be more painless for you. You took your phone out of your handbag and texted Namjoon. You asked if he still had the number to that all around cleaning service, to which he did, thank god. After saving the number, you called it immediately. Wanting no time to be wasted. "Hello, Good morning! This is Mr. Park of Mr. Park's Cleaning Service, how can we help you?" The bubbly old man chanted his spiel. "Ah, yes, um. This is Y/n Y/l/n, I was wondering if I can avail your services?" "Of course, ma'am!" He chimed, the sound of rustling papers can be heard in the background "What will we have the pleasure of cleaning for you, Ms. Y/l/n?" His tone never changed, still enthusiastic. "Well I have this pool..." You replied quite hesitantly, "And It's been sitting here uncleaned for almost two months." You let out a breathy laugh, fairly embarrassed at your confession. "No problem, Ms. Y/l/n! We've handled worse cases. Two months is nothing! Is it just the pool or would you like us to give your whole yard a fixer-upper?" You sighed in relief. "Y-yes, that would be great! My backyard could use the help, too." "Alrighty then! You don't need to worry about anything! Can I get your contact number and full address Ms. Y/l/n?" Mr. Park sounded like a charming old man, he never judged or asked unnecessary questions, only the ones that needed to be answered. "My number's xxx-xxx-xx and my full address is xxx street, corner xxx at xxx village. When can I expect you to visit, Mr. Park?" "I'll get the boys ready and will be there in about an hour or two to check on the conditions and come up with the most effective strategy. The duration of the process usually takes about three days to a week depending on the situation. It's always better to asses the area first. We'll do the best we can do, Ms. Y/l/n!" You can hear the smile in his voice, never have you encountered someone who's this passionate about his job as much as Mr. Park. "Great! That sounds excellent! Thank you so much Mr. Park! I'll see you later!" "Thank you, too, Ms. Y/l/n! Good bye!" The call ended and you checked the clock. It was a quarter to nine, still a lot of time left before they arrive. You decided to tidy up the place, picking up dirty laundry, washing the dishes, and anything that demanded to be put in its proper place. You accomplished everything in under an hour and decided to lounge around on your couch, still in your black silk nightwear dress that rested a good five inches above your knee. To be fair, you did wake up too early for your liking, and it made you thrice as sluggish than usual. 'Only ten minutes' you reminded yourself because you still needed to shower. Your eyelids felt heavy and the softness of the pillow you were resting your head on didn't help either. 'five more minutes, then it's time to shower, I swear.' Things didn't always go according to plan, of course. You fell asleep.

Your little nap was interrupted by the sound of your doorbell ringing multiple times, "Ms. Y/l/n?! Is anybody home? This is Mr.Park's Cleaning Service." The man on the other side of the door yelled. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. You scramble about you couch only to fall on the floor with a loud thud, "W-wait! Just a minute!" You squealed, heading out to the nearest bathroom to grab your bathrobe and wrap it around your frame. You chugged down and gargled a cup full of mouthwash before spitting it out. "Shit..." You hissed, taming out the fly-aways of your hair and tying it up in a loose bun. Your bangs rested messily on your forehead but you didn't have the pleasure of curling it. So you opted for just sweeping it to the side, making yourself more presentable. "I'm coming!" You yelped, treading to your front door and opening it. The three boys who stood at your doorstep gave you a courteous ninety degree bow. They were wearing those baggy grey work jumpsuits but the sleeveless kind. The boys looked fairly young, with glowing skin and youthful dispositions. They moved back to their upright position and the one in the center greeted, "Good day Ms.---" his eyes widened like saucers, he looked like he had encountered a ghost, and suddenly you were extremely conscious about your disheveled appearance, tucking in stray hairs that dangled around the frame of your face behind your ears. "Ms--" he knew what he wanted to say, it was waiting for its turn to spill out from his suddenly parched mouth. But he couldn't because he was too awe struck at the image of this lovely woman standing before him. They'd done this job a couple hundred times and it was all professional, but this was the first time his heart was completely enamored by a female client. His tongue was undoubtedly caught at the back of his throat and an elbow to his rib by his friend snapped him out of it and transferred him back to reality. "Y/l/n.." He continued, shades of pink trickling his face. "My name is Park Jimin..." "You're Mr. Park?" You giggled, the way your cheeks rounded when you smile matched with your cute dimple almost sent him into the ER due to a cardiac arrest, "You sounded older on the phone." "Uh.. That was my father. I'm just Jimin." He smiled, flustered like a little boy confessing his love for his crush. You beamed at him once more after discovering his name, eyes twinkling more that ever and he caught that. He freaking caught the way your eyes glimmered at him. "If you're just Jimin, then I'm just Y/n." What the hell was that?! You internally screamed at your choice of words, pulling out the non-existent life plug in your head because you wanted to shrivel up like a dehydrated grape desiring to be a raisin and just die. "O-okay, Ms. Y/n.." the way your name rolled so sweetly out of his lips made you shudder, a feeling you hadn't felt in a long, long time spark a flame in the deepest pit of your stomach. You shouldn't be experiencing this urgent sense of infatuation towards a person you only just met, not to mention to someone this young. You reckoned that he was likely five or six years your junior, probably even more. It was a weird sensation. You had no idea where it came from but you were kinda skeptical about the concept of it and where it might lead. Did you hate it? I mean, no, not at all. Were you confused? Most definitely. "This is Jungkook," he gestured to the lad on his left. Jet-black hair, doe eyes, piercings and tattoos, okaaay he's attractive "and this is Taehyung." Your gaze moved to the left, honey brown hair, sultry stare, sharp nose and a chiseled jaw, woah he's attractive too. No wonder Mr. Park's acquiring all the deals in town! His cleaning team is total eye candy. "My dad-- I mean Mr. Park's rheumatoid started acting up a little while ago, that's why he wasn't able to come with us. I hope that's alright with you, Ms. Y/n." There it is again, he said your name again but his voice a little softer this time. He was hoping his father's absence wouldn’t upset you too much. And didn't leave a bad first impression on you. Your name slipping past his lips sent another shock wave throughout your body, faintly stirring up your insides. It took you a good second to reply because you were too busy staring at the way his tongue prodded out of mouth to wet his pink and plump lips. Shit “I-it’s fine..” You gulped, drifting your gaze to your backyard assuming he didn’t see what you just did. “I hope your father feels well soon.” You stepped back a few feet letting the boys with their big tool kits in hand enter. “May we look at the pool, Ms. Y/l/n?” The black haired boy spoke, opening his box of tools and pulling out a smaller black container. “Taehyung and I will do the water testing and everything else while Jimin-hyung here will walk you through the whole process.” “The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll finish!” Taehyung beamed, boxy smile and all. They all did what they said they’d do. Jungkook and Taehyung were handling all sorts of gadgets and gizmo to test the pH balance, chlorine levels and whatever they need to test. Jimin explained everything in meticulous detail, from the tools that they were using to how they’d clean it. You tried listening intently. You really did! But the addictive saccharine tone of his voice had gotten you too worked up. “And that’s about it,” Jimin happily concluded. “We can start cleaning tomorrow if it’s okay with you,” “Y/n?” He asked reluctantly, watching you stare vacuously at him. “Ah-- Yes. You guys can start tomorrow.” You smiled, flustered and red on the face. He was worried for a moment, he thought you found everything he said was boring. Because all honestly, he knew it was. Jimin dropped out of college to support his father with their family business, being the sole son and successor. It was a gamble, most of his friends would say. "Why'd you give up having an education?" or "What if it goes bankrupt?". Those words were frequently thrown around, but he stuck to his gut. Jimin never wanted anything more than maintaining his father's legacy alive. The one that his father and late-mother created and grew from the ground up. "Great! Kook, Tae, how's everything going?" He hollered to his friends who were still tinkering with their devices at the edge of the pool. "Will be done soon! Give us a minute," Taehyung replied, signaling a thumbs-up to his hyung. "Ahhh! That reminds me," You teetered blithely straight to your equally neglected shed that Wonwoo kept all his tools in. "If you need any tools, feel free to--" You tried to pry the door handle open but it wouldn't budge. "Let me get that for you, Ms. Y/n." Jimin insisted, worrying you might hurt yourself. "I'm okay," You assured the boy, solidifying your grip on the handle, and giving one last firm pull that just might do the trick. Jimin was right. Because the moment you exerted more effort into opening the door, the slim strip of metal that was affixed on the wooden surface snapped off and sent you stumbling back a few steps. You shielded your eyes with your hand and just when you thought your sorry ass was about to hit the grass, you felt something or someone, cradle your fall. A small groan from behind startled you, "W-what?" You removed your hands from your face and saw Jimin lying beneath you, hold on to you by your waist."Oh shit!" You shrieked, promptly scooting away from his lap to check if he's hurt somewhere. "J-jimin! Are you okay?!" concern laced your voice. You scanned every inch of his body for any cuts or bruises. While your face unintentionally came too close to his, he felt your warm minty breath dancing on the tip of his cupid's bow, tickling his lips that were mere centimeters away from yours. And the way his left cheek was conveniently purchased in your hand made him feel the heat blossom under his skin, and presumably creep up to his ears too. Wide-eyed and totally red in the face, Jimin hurriedly stood up from where he was planted, not forgetting to help you as well stand up as well. “I’m fine, Ms. Y/n. You don’t have to worry about--” Before the boy could barely finish his sentence, you were already pulling him by the wrist and ushering him back inside the house. He was trying so hard to resist the blush that had been wanting to be set free. “Jungkook, Taehyung!” You waved, calling out their attention. “You can come inside if you’re finished. I’ll tend to Jimin and see if he has any injuries.” “Yes ma’am!” The two boys chuckled, giving Jimin a playful smirk. “Sit down. I’ll go get my first aid kit.” You spoke before scooting towards the direction of your bathroom. The moment you’ve found yourself looking in the mirror in what seems to be the safest place you could’ve been at this moment, you allow all the accumulated steam out. “F-fuck.” You breathe out a sigh of relief. Finally being able to inhale and exhale enough air with your lungs. Every single moment with Jimin feels like there’s something constricting your chest, blocking all possible airways and cutting off the oxygen in your body. “Get it together, Y/n” You scold yourself, looking at the reflection in the bathroom mirror “You are an adult. An adult who will not let a young man fracture the little sanity you have left.”

On your tiptoes, you reached for the small plastic box on the shelf of your bathroom, taking one last determined look in the mirror and declaring, “You got this.” With that, you step out of the enclosed space with your recovered confidence, not looking back. And there he is again, puppy dog eyes lighting up when he saw your figure reappear in his line of vision. “Ms. Y/n.” He smiled, and there you knew how truly fucked up you were. “God, give please give me the strength.” You chanted in your head, “I got the first aid kit. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Was all that you could say.

It has been exactly five days, eight hours and forty-five minutes since Jimin started working on your backyard. Why do you know that? Well, that boy with those galaxies induced eyes, impossible plump lips and unbelievable muscular body had been lurking and finding his way through the deep recesses of your mind, desperately searching for that imaginary finish line.

Every cell in your body was hyper-aware of your surroundings whenever he was near. You’d get chills when you feel his hot breath fanning against the skin of your nape when he’s behind you asking for some kind of permission. A jolt would run down your spine when he says your name like it’s the only name he’d known besides his. And the way an innocent stare from him would ignite a flame in your core, burning like coal inside a furnace during those cold winter nights. You know of his presence; you know how he makes you feel even when you don’t want it and that scares you.

And now you’re here with your overly eager friend who's ready to lay down all her life savings and then some, just to see you finally get laid after that hideous tragedy.

“Gosh, what do I do?” You groaned, massaging your temples. The headache that you experienced the first time you encountered the boy only tripled in magnitude. It was like the soft tissues of your brain decided that it would be best to act like tectonic plates and tear each other apart. No matter how many pain killers you’ve ingested or how early you slept at night, it always comes back the next day, with a vengeance.

“Give in,” she shrugged, taking a sip from her warm cup of tea. “you’ve got nothing to lose.”

“The only thing I’m losing right now is my sanity.” You grovelled, wanting to pull out all of your hair from its follicles. “I–” You sighed, voice cracking and tear attempting to fall.“I honestly don’t know what to do.”

She offered you a sympathetic look, consoling you with a hand gently stroking your back. “I know, hun. Wonwoo was a douche bag and your divorce was the absolute worst. But… Look at the bright side,” She nudged you on the shoulder and points a finger westward.

“Now that he’s out of the picture, you’re a free woman now, y/n.” Your friend stated as-a-matter-of-fact, wriggling her perfectly done brows at you. She was right, though. There was nothing holding you back except yourself. The two of you looked beyond the glass sliding doors of your patio and watched the group of young men pull every bone and flex every inch of muscles in their bodies trying to make your backyard look like the way it was before.

“I don’t see anything wrong with flirting with your pool boy now that the ring on you finger is gone,” a small tug of her lips went unseen by you as your gaze was still attached to the blond haired boy whose dusting of sweat seemed to reflect and shimmer under the blazing sunlight like those vampire characters from that teen movie. God, how can someone look that ethereal while raking up the pile leaves in your backyard?

“While you’re at it, seeing that you’re too invested in watching him, play with piles of dead leaves,” your head snapped toward her direction as your cheeks turned pink from embarrassment, “might as well fuck him too.” she grins from ear to ear.

Day eight came faster than you had imagined. The boiling of your insides has simmered down immensely since you've accepted all your feelings like the grown adult that you are. You didn't confess, though, there will be a time for that. Also, you can say you've gotten used to Jimin's presence in the short time you've spent with him. He was kind, sweet, caring and considerate to you 24/7 and you've considered every bit of it endearing. You friend was right. "Give in," she says, so you did and you hope everything will eventually fall into place at the right time. Like usual, jimin and his bunch were outside. They were eighty percent done with the pool and all that's left was the landscaping. One by one, bags of dirt, rocks, sand and all the likes were carried by unfamiliar faces to the back yard through your house. Trails of sand were left on the floor akin to a snail's. "We're really sorry for the mess, miss y/n. Don't worry, we'll clean it up." A new face stood beside Jimin. This one looked more mature than the three boys you're already acquainted with. This was your first time seeing him. Raven hair, brown eyes, a attractive face and shoulders broader than the horizon. Wow. Mr. Park's boys just keep getting hotter and hotter. But there's something oddly familiar about him. Maybe you've met him before? Casually crossed paths as strangers? You can't quite wrap a finger around it. "Y/n, this is Jin-hyung." The fair-haired boy stated. "He's Jungkook's older brother." You gasp, finally it connects "R-really?! No wonder you looked familiar!" You heard the boisterous laugh of the younger brother draw closer and then draped an arm around his brother's shoulder. You habitually thought Jungkook was the tallest in the bunch but now that you've seen his older brother and the way he stands a good two or three inches taller says otherwise. "Sooo, who's more good looking, Noona?" Jungkook asked cheerfully, arching his brows as if coaxing you to choose him. "Hmmm..." You hummed dramatically, crossing your arms with one hand cupping your chin. "I really can't say, Jungkook. Your hyung's pretty handsome." You teased. "Nooooona~!" The youngest whined, flailing his arms around like a child. If you hadn't known their ages, you'd assume that Jungkook's an eighteen year old boy with a baby's face attached to an adult man's body. +Flashback+ You learned that over the course of yesterday's dinner. That day marked the seventh day since the boys worked on you backyard. You decided to treat them to a special samgyupsal dinner since they had been working so hard all day and all afternoon. It was a quarter to five, and the boys were about to call it a day when you call them over enthusiastically. Gesturing them to come inside "Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook!" Their mouths hung wide open when their eyes met with the dining table. A dazzling array of meats, soups, vegetables and side dishes were gloriously scattered on the surface. "Wow, Ms. Y/n!" Taehyung beamed, his boxy smile seemed like it was engraved on his face. "What's the occasion?” "Well, since you boys have been working so hard I decided to arrange a little party for you guys. It's the least I can do." You smile. Taehyung and Jungkook looked like they were about to combust. The fragrance of the food delighted their every senses. You hear a faint growl in the background. "Sorry. That was me." Jungkook confessed, his stomach was now hungrier than before. You all laugh. "What are you waiting for? Dig in!" It was like a gun was shot and the race to eat the most food began. You watched them eat heartily, wishing that you had done this sooner to express your gratitude for all the effort the exert. "Aren't you gonna eat, y/n?" You were startled by Jimin voice. You turn to him and receive the look of concern on his face. "I've had my fair share while cooking, if I eat more I feel like I'll throw up." You softly giggled, a shade of pink dusting your cheeks. "And this is all for you." For every little thing he does whether it was deliberately or not, Jimin feels like he's simply digging his own grave. The sound of metal rutting against soil, just a few more digs and he's sure he'll be six feet under. "Ms. Y/n, Ms. Y/n!" Jungkook called, outstretching his hand like a student asking for his teacher's attention. "Yes, Jungkook? Oh, and you can call me y/n, by the way. No need for 'miss'." Jungkook scratched the back of his neck before answering, "Uhm, I dont think I'm in the position to call you that, ms. Y/n " "What about noona?" Taehyung who sits across Jungkook suggested. "Ms. Y/n really been nice to us, like a big sister. Always making sure we're okay." Sister. You practically forgot about your age gap with these kids. With the five-year difference for Jimin and Taehyung, seven for Jungkook, you really felt like an older sister. It wasn't bad, it was lovely actually. Knowing they see you more than just an ordinary client pinched at your heart. And you perceive them as little brother's you never had. One of them, you wished went beyond that. "Yeah!" The black haired boy exclaimed,"Can we call you noona, ms. y/n???" Jungkook looked like a dog, with his eyes all round and tail raised and wagging about. It must feel so great to be young. "Of-- Of course! You can call me noona!" The two boys cheered in unison. The only one quiet was jimin who sat parallel to you.

"Are you okay jimin?" You asked meekly. "I'm fine." He didn't sound like he was fine. "Is there something wrong?" "Ahh, I--" he was stuttering, "Is it okay if I call you y/n instead?" Your eyes widened, you haven't even drank anything alcohol but your face already feels hotter. "S-sure, Jimin." You tried to change the topic by standing up walking over to the refrigerator. "Since all of you are of legal age." You gradually push open metal door and pull out bottles of soju. "You're the best, noona!" The youngest howled, eager to get his hands on the alcoholic drink. "Just promise me you guys won't drink too much. You still have work tomorrow" Like twins, Jungkook and Taehyung held their hands over their heart and recited, "We promise, noona!" With the magic liquid, conversation started flowing more naturally. You promised not to drink but they insisted, nothing worse than your friends peer-pressuring you. "So, noona, where do you work?" Taehyung questioned. He probably noticed you were always at home. "I'm a writer for Seoul Life Magazine, but I do all my work here at home. I rarely have to go to the office." "Really???!!!" His eyes blew up, Taehyung told you he was a fashion design graduate. You expected this reaction from him so you felt pride in telling him where you work. "Wow, noona!" Jungkook said, "My dad said only those who were absolutely good got to work there." "Stop flattering me," You shyly dismiss his praise. "I was an intern there during my concluding year of college. I worked for about three or four years before I got married." Taehyung did a spit take, spraying water all over poor Jungkook who almost choked on a lettuce leaf. Jimin just sat there, watching you laugh at the two comical boys. He didn't know how to react, his hands suddenly went clammy and he couldn't stop shaking his leg under the table. "M-married?" Jungkook said, still not believing what he's hearing "w-where the h-husband?" He felt out of breath due to that damn piece of leaf. "Are you really married, noona?" Taehyung poked, looking at your ringless finger. "I was," Your smile grew weaker, talking about something it always felt weighty. But they deserved to know, they're helping you heal by dealing with something you'd rather not face. "We got divorced." The room went silent. The sound of the crickets outside and leaves swaying with the wind that were previous white noise behind your chattering and laughter seemed like the were obscenely amplified by huge bass speakers. "Can I ask why, noo--" "Jungkook!" Jimin scolded his junior, and this was the first time you've heard/seen him raise his voice to anyone. "Apologize." He stated sternly, not breaking eye contact with Jungkook. "I'm sorry, noona." His head hung low, hair covering his eyes. "J-jimin, I'm sure Jungkook didn't meant to." You reached out to to hold his hand that was resting on the table. "I'm not mad or upset." You looked over Jungkook's direction and continued, "It's okay, I promise." Jimin squeezed your hand tighter, comforting you. "You don't have to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable, y/n." "Y-yeah, noona." Taehyung added, "You don't have to. It's none of our business." Jungkook sat still, eyes glassy and mouth pouty. He absolutely looked like a puppy that had been punished for chewing up its human's shoe. "It's alright," You giggle, extremely touched. "It's been months, I can talk about it." "We met during sophomore year. I was a journalist for the university paper and he was on the swim team." The three boys listened intently, like toddlers during story time. "After five years of dating, he proposed. We got married a year later and moved in here. That," you pointed to the pool outside "belongs to him." "It was his idea to get a house with one, I agreed of course. Only two years after getting married, I found out he was cheating on me." Jimin's features softened at your words. He knows it wasn't easy for anyone to talk about their past heartbreak and traumas. He made sure you weren't alone, he took his free hand and placed it over your hand that he was already holding with the other. He held it tight. "It broke my heart, I really thought he was the one, you know? Almost eight years together thrown in the garbage disposal and shredded to pieces." "He doesn't deserve you, noona." Jungkook finally spoke. "He was an asshole and he doesnt deserve you." "Yeah!" Taehyung agreed, "I kinda don't want to finish the work now." Out of nowhere, you burst out laughing. An invisible weight, sort of a thick blanket was lifted and the atmosphere brightened. "No, no, no!" You can't stop your laughter at this point, what Taehyung said tickled a funny bone. "I still plan on living here, Taehyung! Even if I dislike the pool, it's still part of this home. And the make over was sort of a therapy, you know. Out with the old, in with the new, right?" You ended it with a smile, lips curved beautifully. It was a smile Jimin has seen never seen before. It was light and airy, bright and transparent. There was no pain or distress, just carefreeness. He wished you would smile like this more often, and he also wished he'd someday be the reason for it.

"Just kidding, Jungkook! You're the most handsome." You assured the boy, patting his back. "Sorry, Jin. Your brother's grown on me." "Kook one, Jin zero." The youngest boast over to his brother. "Alright, alright!" Jin interrupted, "Unlike you, some of us need to work. How 'bout you and Taehyung get the transport van back to the office and let Jimin, Hoseok, Yugyeom and I get things done, yeah?" Jungkook clicked his tongue, "Whatever." Their sibling banter has got you missing your brother, mentally reminding yourself to call him later. "Hey, Yugs." You hear Jungkook faintly speak. Two more new faces stood beside Jin. "This is Hoseok and Yugyeom. We'll be responsible for landscaping." Another attractive guy with a million-dollar smile on his face and a tall man with the physique of a runway model. Curse, Mr. Park!! Where does he get all these boys?! "Thank you for having us!" The pair recited. "Oh, no! Thank you for helping out with the renovation." "Ms. Y/n, The boys and I will be outside. We'll be mapping out a plan for the design," Jin announced. "Oh, sure." You answer back, "Take all the time that you need." "Great! We'll report to you once we've finished the draft design. So you can the necessary make changes and adjustments." He beamed, walking towards the back yard. Jimin stood silently beside you, "You do landscaping?" You randomly asked, seeing that Jimin was the only one left from their bunch. Jungkook and Taehyung had long gone. "No," he chuckled, "I just need to watch over these guys. Make sure everything goes well." "That's nice, you're very involved with the work you do." His cheeks blossomed pink, he didn't expect a compliment since he was just doing his job. "I try." He shyly replied, bowing then heading for the glass door. "If you need me, I'll be outside." You waved him goodbye and went about your own business. There were still some articles in your workload that needed to be finished and those emails weren't gonna answer themselves. ++ By the time you were done, it was half past two in the afternoon. You noticed as the days progressed, so did the temperature. You check your phone, only to see that today is the hottest reading yet. Since everything has been taken care of, you decided to take a shower. Appreciating the cold refreshing water on you warm skin. After that, you put on your favorite robe and wrapped it around your damp body. As you were about to step out of the bathroom, you noticed Jimin leaning against one of the pillars of your patio, shirtless. Have your eyes been deceived? They say that seeing believes, but you didn't expect Jimin to be this fit. You offered yourself some slack, since the only part of Jimin body's you've oh so graciously seen are his muscular arms. It wasn't as big as those of a body builder, but the amount of muscle in them has already got you mouth watering. But being blessed with the site of his bare skin and taut abdominal muscles has got you feeling wetter than being in the shower. You couldn't keep your gaze off of him. It was an image that you want to engrave at the back of your head. Your eyes roamed his entire body. Face, neck, shoulders, chest and abs. You wanted to memorize every detail. Every mole, every freckle, every scar that adorned his ivory skin. Just as you were taking your time scanning his entire figure, you were startled when you saw him looking at you staring at him. Your heart began to race inside your chest and you almost forgot you were standing in the middle of your house with only a robe covering your very naked body. You scanned around the area of the yard and Jin and the others we're not in plain sight. You assumed they were working on the farthest side of the lot, where your small garden used to be before you abandoned it all together with the pool. You lock eyes with Jimin again, but this time there was something odd at the way he ogles at you. His gaze was lustful and burning with flames devouring your entirety. His were pupils blown out at the display of your skin. He looked pained, his teeth biting harshly at his bottom lip as if he wanted to draw blood. At that point it dawned on you. You know why he seemed so agitated, squirming in his seat. He wanted to see more, see more of you. A wave of unknown confidence washed over you. You didn't know where the hell it came from. Maybe it was from his deadly stare, maybe it was just you. Either way, you were so totally taking advantage of it. Without breaking eye contact, you found purchase at the same seat from which you watched the boys worked while having a chat with your friend. Sensually lifting the hem of your robe up your thighs and spreading your legs open for Jimin to see. "F-fuck," He groaned, hands balling into fists. He glimpsed over to the other men who were still occupied with what they were accomplishing. His attention was back on you, giving you a small nod. The fervor that coursed through your body was incomparable to anything you've experienced before. The Adrenaline was starting to kick in, and you felt hot-blooded. You temperature went up ten degrees higher and you felt delirious. You knew there was a possibility that you were gonna get caught, but screw it. You've never felt like this in your whole twenty-nine year of life. You're gonna enjoy it, basked in it. Jimin's eyes were plastered at your dripping core, lump in his throat and completely mesmerized at its beauty. Your juices sinfully coating you slit. He swore if there wasn't anybody else around, he would have ravished you pussy like an animal. Since you're out here giving him a show that he'll never forget, might as well savour it. He thought things couldn't get any better with you sex on display for him, you open up your legs even more in a whole new different angle. Putting all those gymnastics training to good use. He can virtually see your pink walls with the position your in. He couldn't stop imagining him burying his hard cock inside your tight cunt. Sucking him in when every thrust he made. You left hand slithered its way down to your soaked core, playfully stroking your folds. If Jimin was beside you, he could no doubt hear the way your cream coated skin squelched with every motion you made. Your idle hand managed to loosen the knot of your robe, allowing it fall from your shoulders exposing your round, supple breasts. Nipples instantly hardening at the sudden exposure to the air. Shit, he'd kill just to have his lips around those perky little nipples, sucking on then voraciously until you moan out his name. You could not take all this self-teasing anymore. Jimin's eyes gauges out of its socket as you dip a finger into your damp hole. Jimin thought the heat from the sun was bearable. He'd worked for long hours under it and never complain. But this, you fingering yourself with one hand while the other pulls and twists on your abused nipple was unbearable! The ache between his legs was excruciating he had to casually palm himself. Slightly shifting and bending this leg so that he wasn't noticeable. Another finger goes in, and he's cupping himself harder. He observed your face contort with pleasure at the way you're plunging and curling your two fingers inside of you. Your arousal spilling at the edge of you battered hole, streaming down and accumulating just above your puckered hole. That should be him, he mumbled to himself. Your slender fingers wouldn't be able to satisfy you, unlike his throbbing cock caged inside his boxers, wanting to be set free. Jimin's practically squeezing his dick at this point now, he just wants nothing but to release his ropes cum on you breast while you pleasure yourself. You felt your walls clench around your digits, signalling you that you were nearing climax. You gotta make this quick, Jin, Hoseok or Yugyeom can walk in on you anytime. Adding one last finger, hoping the stretch will help you jump over the edge, you pummeled your cunt with all the strength that you had left. A small moan left your lips and your release came squirting. Coating the marble floor beneath you. Jimim was just as wrecked as you were. His chest was heaving heavily up and down. The only difference was you reached climax, and he didn't, he couldn't. You were steadying you breathing just when you hear Jin yell, "Yo! Jimin! I need you to--" his voice was getting louder and closer. Wide-eyed, you look at Jimin. Mouthing him "Do something!" While you pull yourself together and grab a piece of tissue to wipe your juices off the floor. When you looked up, Jimim wasn't there anymore. He somehow managed to stop Jin from coming any closer to the house from how faintly you hear his voice outside. You sighed and went back to your room. “We’ve done everything we could do today, Ms. Y/n,” Jin happily announces, standing in front of you with his million dollar smile adorning his equally valued face. “We’ll continue everything tomorrow!” “G-great!’ You croaked, substantially tilting your head to see what’s going on behind the tall man’s back. Hoping to catch a glimpse of Jimin. “Ms. Y/n?” he waved his hand in your face, snapping you out of it. “Are you okay?” “Yeah.” You barely reply. Before he could turn his back on you, you managed to pull on his sleeve. “W-where’s Jimin by the way?” He looked surprised, pondering why you’re asking for the boy. “He went back first,” Jin witnessed your facial expression drop, “He said he wasn’t feeling too good.” “O-oh,” you frowned once more, your browns knitting together at the center of your forehead. “Please tell him to get well soon.” “Of course,” He bowed and bid farewell.

Tomorrow comes and Jimin was nowhere to be seen. Jin said Jimin was still feeling under the weather and took the whole day off from work. While that may seem plausible, it didn’t sit well in your gut. You felt like there was something off with Jimin. Never has he been absent since the first day he worked for you. What is that little stunt you pulled off yesterday, you thought to yourself. Were you really that repulsive to the point that it had gotten him sick? Did you ruin your chances of having something more than just a short time fling with the most charming boy you’ve ever met? What if he never wanted to see you anymore, what would you do then. Those kinds of thoughts were inevitable, of course. It was all you could think of the entire day. So that night, you decided to send him a text message, the first one too. From you: Hi Jimin. Jin told me that you fell ill. Try not to over work yourself next time. I hope you get well soon. -yn Jimin stared stupidly at the screen. Thinking of what to reply or if he should reply at all. Several words typed then deleted. He genuinely didn’t know what to say to you. He was ashamed of what he’s shown and with his lack of self-control. He felt appalled with himself. How could he disrespect you like that? You were a client. A client and worker relationship weren’t prohibited, not at all. It was just his work ethics that wanted everything to be strictly professional, he knew how important your role is to their business. The last thing he wanted was to tarnish what his father built from the ground up with a scandal. So he decided to not let his personal life get involved with his work life. It just makes things complicated, like it is right now. The ‘can’t go to work, feeling sick’ wasn’t wholly a lie. The pain wasn’t physical, it was abstract. And no medicine can induce the pain go away, until he saw your following message. From you: Also, I wanted to talk to you about something. It doesn’t have to be right away, you should rest first and get your health back up. Just message me whenever. Goodnight, Jimin.

There really was no way out, huh. The next day comes and still no Jimin. That was when you confirmed it. You’ve completely and utterly ruined everything. He did not reply to your messages and didn't even want to see your face. It felt like the ground underneath you cracked opened and devoured you whole. That was the very first time in your life that you’ve acted so venturesomely, look what is has cost you. You blame yourself because there was no one else you could point a finger at. Things wouldn't end up the way they are now if you just stayed in your fucking lane. All of this was your fault. You looked back at all the events that happened to you and realized, maybe it was inevitably your fault. Wonwoo wouldn’t have you left if he saw a reason not to. Jimin wouldn’t be ignoring you if he had a reason no to. The course of the entire day was spent with you cooped up inside your room, wallowing away in your own self-pity. You politely told Jin that you needed some time to be alone and he can decide whatever is best for the landscaping. It was around seven in the evening, Jin bid farewell and suggested that if you needed anything, you could call him up. That was extremely thoughtful of him, you think. Another hour passed and the doorbell rings. You weren't expecting anyone though, so you were quite puzzled as to who it might be. The front door open and you see Jimin. He was wearing a navy blue dress shirt that was folded up to his elbows, wow. Sleek black slacks for pants that cinched his slim waist and leather dress shoes to put everything together. What's the occasion, you thought. "Oh, Jimin" you hid the nervous of your voice by pulling him into a hug "I-its good to see you again, what brings you here? Are you feeling better?" "Ah, yes. I'm sorry for being absent these past few days." His head was hanging low and his eyes were looking elsewhere just to avoid yours. "I wanted to apologize." He finally looked at you with his brown orbs that were displaying sincerity. You ushered him to come inside and take a seat on your couch. "Apologize?" You asked, a little bit perplexed "For what exactly?" "For what I did," his voice grew feebler "I shouldn't have done what I did. I shouldn't have disrespected you like that. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you just because I felt the heat of that moment. I'm sorry, y/n. I swear I'm better than that." "Oh, Jimin." You smiled tenderly, cupping his plump cheeks with your hand. "I think it's the other way around. I should be the one apologizing. Back then, I couldn't control myself when I should have. After seeing you, all the emotions I've put aside unexpectedly erupted." With your unoccupied hand, you tightly held his. "The truth is, you really have grown on me in all the best way possible. Initially, I thought it was just the backlash of my divorce egging me. I thought maybe my mind was looking for a rebound to dull the ache. But..." Your eyes started becoming glassy. You felt him clutch you hand tighten spurring you to continue "I think that's not it. I know it isn't. You've been nothing but a blessing to me, Jimin. An absolute angel. You're sweet, kind, caring, understanding, ugh--" You mocked frustratingly, letting out a small giggle. "You're perfect. I couldn't see anyone that wouldn't fall for you like I have." Jimin's face reflected what he felt at that moment, relief. This wasn't what he was expecting, hence why he averted the confrontation as best as he could. You were the one who was perfect and completely out of his league. You were a beautiful and capable independent woman that any man would kill for. Your ex-husband was beyond stupid to play with your feelings like he did, he knows. But if it wasn't for your ex's stupidity, he wouldn't be here facing the only woman he'd want to be with for the rest of his life. "I thought you wouldn't like me since I was older--." "Stop." He interrupted, stroking his fingers through your locks while gazing at your gorgeous features. The staring contest ended with the both of you smacking lips, eager to taste what has been endured for so long. Impatient longing was evident in every kiss, lick, bite and tug. You kissed him so fervently that his back was digging against the backrest of the sofa. One of your legs seemed to have a mind of its own and positioned itself to straddle him. "Are you sure you want me?" You queried the boy beneath you, your tone much mischievous from before, it was like there was a flipped switch somewhere. The noticeable change in the atmosphere has got him simply nodding, excited to know there was this side of you that he has not witnessed before. He watched you as you steadily unravel your blouse's satin belt and started to gently caress his wrist. "Would you mind if I tie up these pretty hands of yours?" You hummed, pulling on his hand up to you face and sucking on his middle finger and ring finger. The sensation of your wet mouth around his digits caused his brain to send signals down there. He could already feel himself get rock hard inside his jeans, thinking about how tight your mouth would be if he shoved his dick down you throat. But he'll save that for another day because right now he just wants to let you do what you want to do with him. Right now, he is yours for the taking. You urged him to lean a little closer to you. His face now between the valley of your breast as you meticulously tie his hands behind his back. You pushed him back to his previous position and inquired, "Do you want me to cover your eyes as well?" He shook his head in protest and said, "N-no. I want to see you." There was a pause as he manages to catch his breath, "I-I wanna see you while you make me feel good." You nodded, brushing his hair out of his sweat slicked forehead. From his head, your hand slid lazily down to his neck, to his chest, to his stomach and finally to the growing bulge inside his pants. You palm him unhurriedly, taking your time. Tracing your fingertips over the curve of his caged penis. "Y-y/n.." Jimin griped, observing your hand press against his erection. Somehow enduring the excruciating pain, your teasing had sown. "Can I ask you one last favor?" You purred, peppering his neck with kisses and sucking purple bruises here and there. "W-what is it?" he managed to reply, reveling in the way your teeth nipped against his delicate skin. "Call me noona," Jimin was silent, somewhat waiting for an explanation. When you told him the first time, he met you that he can call you by your first made him feel special because only he could do that. The other workers call you 'Miss' and Jungkook and Taehyung declared you as 'our noona'. "N-noona-" Jimin whined, bucking his hips harder against you hand. He saw your pupils dilate as the word escaped your lips, inflaming something inside you. "Jimin," you growled, squeezing his around his girth ferociously. Buttons were unfastened one after the other, exposing his refined chest and taut muscles. Out of nowhere, you felt raunchy. The tips of your fingernail slowly dragged themselves across his torso, leaving streaks of red in its track. He flung his head back, enjoying the sting that danced on his skin. Jimin squirmed as he felt your weight suddenly leave his lap. His neck snapped back to your direction and damn, what a sight to see. You tucked between his legs and unzipping his pants exposing his angry red-tipped cock oozing out beads of pre-cum. He smirked as he saw you involuntary lick your lips. "You like what you see, noona?" "God, yes." You exhaled, wrapping both your hands around his shaft not because you wanted to, but because it was necessary. Your tiny, little hand could barely encompass his circumference. "Noona's gonna me you feel good, baby." You felt Jimin's dick twitch by the given pet name. "Noona," he groaned, thrusting his member in your grip just to feel any sort of friction. Sensually, you undid your bloused and hurled it somewhere on the floor followed by your bra, exposing your bare chest to the boy. Jimin jerked in his seat, wanting to grab and knead you breast with his own hands. It looked even better up close. The skin smooth and flawless, nipples pert and hard due to the frosty air. "Fuck" he hissed through his teeth, if he could get his mouth on those buds he'd suck them dry and pull it between his teeth making you cry out. "Behave." You scolded him, eyes staring daggers. He stayed in place once again, not wanting to vex you in any way.

You ran the flat of you tongue on the underside of his length, feeling his skin pulse at contact. Salaciously making your way to its head, you began circling his narrow slit with the tip of your tongue. Feeble moans were the only things escaping his pretty mouth. You seized this moment to swallow him whole down to the hilt, fighting your gag reflex. Your mouth has never felt this stuffed as you moan in satisfaction. Jimin felt the vibration of your throat around his cock, tightening around it. You languidly started bobbing your head up and down, bottoming out with every stroke. With a lewd pop, you tried pulling your mouth off his cock. Strings of saliva dribbled from your lips connecting to his tip. You push yourself up slight and proceeded painting your nipples with the concoction of you saliva and his pre-cum that was coating the tip of his penis. "How does this feel?" You cooed, sandwiching his hard member between your two breasts, erotically pumping the tender flesh up and down his length. "So so gooood, noona" Jimin wheezed blissfully. The sensation of his cock wholly enveloped by your soft mounds is inclining him over the edge. "Noona," he wailed shutting his eyes, the urgency of wanting to release washing over him. By the look of things, you guess he's close. You quicken the pace, feeling the skin of you breast chafe due to friction but you don't care. You clamped your hand on your boobs harder to tighten its hold around his cock and pump faster and faster and faster until he's cumming on you tits. "Shit, noona," Jimin stressed, his breaths labored. You watched as his chest heaved up and down, supplying him with the oxygen he needs after such an intense climax. "Oh no. Look at the mess you made, Jimin." You shook your head, pointing to your breast painted with his milky liquid. "I don't like messes," You sing-song, pushing yourself back up to straddle him once more. You clasped your finger under his chin and commanded, "clean it." His heart stammered in his chest. This is it. This is what he desired. Your perky nipples snug between his lips while your back arches in euphoria. He aggressively lapped up his juices from the skin of your chest with his tongue, leaving no trace of the substance behind. Up and down, left and right, there was no area left untouched by his wet greedy muscles. If he could only see the contorted position he put himself in just to taste you. He doesn't give a shit anymore, he'll gladly eat his cum out of you asshole if you asked. He obscenely sucked you left nipple first, earning the tiniest moan from you. Alternating between light nips and starved slurps, abusing your bud. He then moves to your right nipple, the more sensitive one that has you immediately grinding your clothed core against his semi-hard on. "Let me make you feel good, noona." He desperately whined, concealing his face in the nook of your neck inhaling your fragrant scent. You quirked a brow and asked while weaving you digits through his sweat-damped hair. "What does my baby have in mind?" "Let me.." he croaked. "Louder. I can't hear you." "Let me eat you out, noona. Let me make you feel good." He begged with pleading eyes , fidgeting his hands that were behind his back, trying to untie the belt that was restraining him. "I can make you--" "If you take those off I am kicking you out." You threateningly glared at him, voice deadly like venom. Jimin was scared shitless. He could do nothing but sit silently and obey. "I-I'm sorry, noona. I didn't mean to make you mad." This boy. It may seem like you're the one in control but it is you who are actually wrapped around his little finger. Giving in to what he wants. "It's okay, baby." you massaged his tensed shoulders, soothing him down. "I'll still let you eat me out if you promise not to take off your restraint." You sounded so sweet, the exact opposite of what you were minutes ago. Not wanting to piss you off more, Jimin nodded. You helped him lay down the sofa, propping his head underneath a throw pillow. You stepped to the side and shimmied your pants off. His eyes trailed the article of clothing peeling off your body. When the pair of jeans were long gone, his gaze was attached to your still clothed core. A small wet patch sticking to your folds in the middle was visible. You prop a leg over him, climbing on top of his chest, finding purchase when his face is below your pussy. He could smell the scent of you arousal. Filling up his nostrils and intoxicating his entire nervous system like it's some kind of poison. This by far was the best angle he's seen you in. Seeing it up close, he wished he could at least touch you… You moved into a considerably better position, if you buck your hips the slightest bit, if will directly collide with his mouth. "This what you want baby boy?" You teased, lowering you center on the tip of his nose. Overpowering him even more. "Yes, yes, yes!" He cries out, "I want nothing but your pussy, noona!" You snickered at how desperate he has become, "Who knew you were such a little bitch, Jimin. Loving the way you hands are tied up and thirsting over my pussy." "Yes! I want to taste you, noona. I want to make you feel good until you're squirting all over my face like you did before on the floor. Then I'll eat you up so good, so clean." "Good boy." You thrummed, ultimately taking off your underwear. Letting him marvel at the sight of your woman hood. Clean Shaven, baby smooth, and tulip pink. Without warning, you hastily maneuver yourself, grinding your core against his face. "Put your filthy mouth to good use and make me cum." The sounds he was making were borderline pornographic as hell. His slurps and moans blessing your ears, making your insides rut. He'd occasionally prod his muscles inside your hole then flick on your clit relentlessly. The tensed coil finally snapped and you chase you high by grinding against his face. He's devouring you out like a man starved, sucking out and drinking all the juice your pussy was providing him. Wanting nothing but to be selfish, and have you for himself. He licked you clean, not wasting a single drop of your delicious cum. "I didn't know you were such a disgusting slut for pussy, Jimin." "I, I only want your pussy noona… no one else's." He confessed. "On your knees." You demand. "H-huh?" "I said on you knees. You slut." Jimin dropped down on the floor waiting for your next command like the slut he is. "Tell me how much you want to fuck me." "I-I.." He stuttered with his words, and it made you infuriated. "I said. Tell me how much you want to fuck this tight pussy of mine." You bellowed, your words bouncing off the walls of your living you. "I want to fuck you so much, noona! I want to bury my cock so deep inside your pussy until I reach your cervix then I'll fuck you some more. I want nothing but to fill you up with my seed and put a baby in you, noona! I'll fuck you so good that you'll want to you pussy filled by me every day!" He cried, plunging his head on the floor in a begging for your life bow. "Please, please, please!" Jimin was hysterical at this point, screaming and begging you to let him fuck you. "Noona, please. I'll fuck you so good that you'll forget about all your problems." You shiver at his submission and once again, he's got you eating at the palm of his hands. You freed his wrist and he lunges at you, hustling you up against the wall. "Noona," he breathed in the smell of your shampoo, steadying his hands on your hips fingers digging into your skin. "You don't know how much I wanted to put my hands on you. I can't take it anymore, noona." he pressed his erection against your slick folds "I need to be inside you." "Then show noona what that dirty cock can do." you smirked, challenging the boy. He gripped both of your thighs and carried you to the dinner table. Laying you down before spreading your legs open for him. He aligned his cock to your entrance, pushing gradually, inch by inch until he bottomed out. The stretch was incredible, you were already dripping wet but there was still the sting that lingered from his size. Your walls were trying resisting the force, convulsing around his length spontaneously. "You're tighter than I've imagined, noona." You did kegels around him, eliciting a sharp groan from the boy. "Fuck, Noona. You were made for my cock." You hummed in agreement, relishing the sensation of him pushing in and out of your tight hole. "Baby.." You moaned wantonly, elevating you butt so that he could have a better angle while penetrating you ruthlessly. "Your thick long cock is the best I've ever had. Better than my ex-husband's pathetic excuse for a dick." His ego doubled at your praise, pride blooming in his chest. "More, noona.. please tell me how great my cock is for you.." "Ahhh-- ahh. Jimin!" You bit your lip, clenching around him. "You're taking remarkably good care of noona. Fucking your noona so good. I love your cock so much. I want you to fill me up with you cum. Yeah? Hmmmm. Make your noona the happiest by cumming inside my pussy." There was the push he needed, he was plunging further into you. He felt the barrier of your cervix and broken through it before spilling all his seed into your womb. You quickly followed when you felt the warmth of his juices flowing into you. Your velvet walls convulsed around his cock, milking him for all his worth. Silence fell on the both of you, only the south of your panting and harsh breath resonated. You supported yourself up with you elbows as Jimin pull out his now flaccid penis. You felt the trickle of both of your releases slobber out of your sore hole. "Baby, do noona a favor and clean up the mess you've made with your mouth." Jimin without hesitation obeyed and dove right in. Making sure to get every last drop of yours and his cum with his tongue. He lifted his head, mouth glistening from your juices. You pulled him closer to pet his held. "You were such a good boy for noona. Bring me to bed." He obliged, carrying you bridal style to your room. His muscles rippling under your stripped body. "Noona?" He questioned while his face was still cuddling your tummy. "Hmm?" "Did I make you feel good?" You lifted up his face and said, "You made me feel so good, baby." You assured, loving the way his eyes turn into crescent moons endearing when he smiles. "Can we do that again? But this time I want the blindfolds." He flashed a cheeky grin. You smirked at his innocence, placing a kiss on his temple. "Of course, baby. We have all the time in the world." ++ The sound of knocking on your front door wakes you up, seems like this is will be a regular thing now. You managed to put on an oversized shirt and underwear on before heading to the source of the noise. You opened the doors at was bet by Jungkook and Taehyung. "Good morning, boys." You yawned, gesturing them to come in. "Uhm. Good morning, noona" Jungkook croaked, pushing his senior to speak on his behalf. "See, we haven't heard from Jimin since last night so uh-- it's just jungkook and I that'll be finishing up work today." Taehyung stated. "About that…."

You heard the door of your room creak open and out comes Jimin with nothing but this boxers on and hickeys all over his neck and chest. The two boys looked at each other dumbfoundedly and once they've put two and two together, huge grins were plastered on their faces. End

tell me what u think pls

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leigheaux-venere · 4 years ago

Text

Behind Enemy Ties 4 - Much Ado About Knothing

It took three days and a lot of attention from Loren, Josh, and Davis for Carlyn to get over his time with Johann. He was insatiable during those three days, and miserable because of it. Carlyn hated being demanding, it made him feel like his mother's son, but his body was roaring, furious he'd let Johann go with fucking him senseless. His words to Johann came echoing back at him.

It's like there's this disconnect in their heads between what they know they want, and what they’ll allow an alpha to do, he'd told Johann, mystified.

But now it was his own body betraying him, demanding things from him that he didn't want to act on.

Betas are the only sensible people, Johann had said, and Carlyn wondered if it wasn't right.

Yet, his harem seemed content to baby him, bring him cold water and hot meat when he felt like drinking or eating, and otherwise taking turns letting him ravish them, sometimes two at a time to keep his mouth busy, until he was too tired to move and fell asleep, once while still inside one of them.

Carlyn did what little work he could manage from home, overseeing details of The Fangs operation, and receiving his sub-bosses in his bedroom.

On the third day at home, Lyric, curious to know what happened with the robbery at the compound, arrived at the house. Carlyn received her in his bedroom with all of his harem, still naked from sleeping. Lyric assumed what she wanted about what had happened with Johann, and Carlyn let her assumptions stand uncorrected. In any case, she was delighted.

“Finally acting like an alpha, little brother,” Lyric said. “I’m proud of you.”

Carlyn took her compliment with a smile-like wince and wondered if she considered at all what Johann had or hadn't consented to. Lyric stayed for a few hours, had dinner, and looked over the cleanup details of the compound before leaving. Alone with his harem, Carlyn was ready to settle in for the evening. He was dead tired.

Then the doorbell rang. Since Josh, Loren, and Davis were all curled up watching a movie, and Carlyn was up, heading for the stairs anyway, he told them not to get up and went for the door himself. He figured it was his mother or other siblings, the only people in his life who showed up unannounced to his house. But when he opened the door, he didn’t find family on the other side; he found Johann.

He wasn’t dressed in military style fatigues. He wore jeans and a t-shirt with sneakers. His dirty blond hair was loose and fell nearly to his shoulders. Carlyn hadn’t noticed it was so long or even that it had been pulled back.It made him wonder what else he failed to notice when the smell of an omega was in the air.

Johann was frowning, but he looked so good. He smelled clean, and his pheromones were low and unnoticeable.

“Johann?”

“Can I come in?” Johann asked.

“Sure.”

They walked inside. And once the door was shut and locked, Carlyn led Johann into the kitchen where they could talk.

“Glad I got dressed for dinner,” Carlyn muttered.

“Lounging naked?” Johann said. “Alphas love to show off, don’t they?”

“It’s more of a comfort thing, really. Can I get you something to drink? Ice water? Juice?”

“You’re not going to offer me wine like a fucking grown up?”

Carlyn shifted in place. “I didn’t think you’d want me to offer you alcohol.”

“Let’s not play stupid games, Carlyn,” Johann sighed. “If you’d wanted to have your way with me, you could have had it. I’m not an idiot.”

Carlyn said nothing but turned and took down two wine glasses and a bottle of red wine. After pouring, he handed a glass to Johann, who drained half of it at once before licking his lips.

“That’s good.”

“Glad you like it,” Carlyn muttered, then sipped his own wine.

“The Legion wants to know what you're offering.”

“Anything you would steal, I’ll give to you.”

“And they want to know what you get out of this. Something-something instinct, isn’t an answer.”

Laughing, Carlyn swished his wine. What was he expecting to get out of this? What did he want?

“I want to know about The Lucretian Legion,” he said honestly. “I want to know what you’re up to, what your goals are, and if they interfere with The Fangs’ goals.”

“They don’t.”

“I’d believe you if you hadn’t blown a hole in one of our walls.”

“Right.” Johann muttered. “Stay here a minute.” He finished his glass and turned and walked out of the kitchen. “Hey guys,” Carlyn heard him say as passed through the living room.

Carlyn waited. In the distance, he heard the front door open and close. He sipped his glass, wondering what Johann was doing, wondering if this was the last time he’d ever see him. After a few minutes the front door opened again, then closed. Carlyn didn’t speak to Josh, Davis and Loren on his way back to the kitchen. He came in and crossed his arms over his chest.

“The Legion accepts.”

“I see.”

“There’s a condition.”

“Which is?”

Johann looked at him, and that unmistakable look of rage crossed his features for a moment. “I’ll be staying to monitor you for the length of this agreement. This… pretend bond is what we’ll go with. I’ll be your only link to The Legion. You get no other members, no locations, no nothing. You talk to them through me, or not at all. Deal?”

Carlyn kept his face neutral as that same voice inside his head from before roared in approval. “Deal,” he said. He never had to hear an omega say yes twice.

Johann’s apartment in the heart of downtown was a small, unassuming studio, perfect for a single omega all on his own. While Johann packed with the help of Josh and Davis, Loren took a long slow walk around the place, her tiny notebook and favorite pen in hand scribbling notes and making little drawings. Carlyn stood in the middle of the apartment, not touching anything, as he’d been instructed to do as they came up the stairs and trying to stay out of everyone’s way.

Carlyn would admit that he hadn’t been expecting such a cheerful place to be Johann’s home. The kitchen was bright and clean, with simple, practical dishware and organized almost Spartan cabinets with no doors on them. The bed area was tidy and under filled, with a dresser next to the closet, a mirror tucked behind a folding screen and a bed partially hidden behind a tucked curtain hanging from rollers on the ceiling. In the living area was a dining table and a few chairs behind a small sofa, both set in front of a TV. Off to the side was a set of weights, a mat, a punching bag, and a pull-up bar stand. Between the little gym and the TV, there was a bookcase filled with DVDs and tabletop games.

What the apartment did not look like the lair of a member of a radical paramilitary vigilante group. The Lucretian Legion’s coat of arms, which Johann had described as an omega symbol above two crossed swords and haloed by a laurel wreath, couldn’t be found anywhere.

When he thought about it, Carlyn supposed it made sense. Nothing connecting him to The Fangs was on display in his eight-hundred-thousand dollar, 5-bedroom manor house, because he had guests over and threw parties and that would just be stupid. Still, somehow Carlyn had expected Johann to be less subtle than he was.

“I like your place,” Carlyn called across the apartment.

“It is darling,” Loren said. “Take as much as you want. Our home is your home.”

“I like it too,” Johann muttered. “I don’t think I’ll be taking much, though. It’s not like I’ll be inviting anyone over.”

“Won’t that be suspicious?” Davis asked.

Carlyn winced as he watched Johann turn his full attention on Davis. The two omegas watched each other for a second, before Davis gave a cheeky smile and Johann sighed.

“I’ll take the games and the DVDs. There’s no point and leaving anything I like in an empty apartment anyway, I guess.”

“Sensible,” Davis agreed and went back to packing.

Deciding his input would only make Johann angry, Carlyn turned his back to the bed and wandered over to the bookshelf. He wasn’t going to touch anything. He just wanted to see what sort of interests Johann had.

“Are you going to pack that stuff?” Johann asked.

“You told me not to touch anything, so I was going to do that.”

Johann sighed. “You can pack my bookcase.”

“Alright.”

“I’ll pack the kitchen,” Loren called. “I want to unpack it as well, so I know where everything is.”

Davis, Josh, and Johann packed the bedroom and kitchen. Loren packed the kitchen. Carlyn packed the living area. The bigger items that were being brought to Carlyn’s house or to storage, they hired movers to carry. The movers were three alphas. It had been three days since their stay together, and Johann had taken several doses of Loren’s alpha repelling tonic, but he still smelled enough like Carlyn for the movers to tell what was going on -or supposed to be going- from context. Though they thankfully said nothing, they directed their questions to Carlyn, not to any of the omegas. Normally, Carlyn was fine answering for his harem. He'd never even noticed himself doing it before. However, Johann’s gaze burned into the back of his head and he knew how Johann felt about the situation.

“Ask Johann,” he kept saying.

The movers would ask Johann the question, get their answer, and ask Carlyn the next question, starting the cycle all over again. By the time they were home and seeing the movers off, Carlyn was exhausted.

He fell face-up on the sofa and closed his eyes, happy to be home. Before they’d moved Johann’s things, he’d already set up automatic payment to Johann’s account to pay for his apartment, bills, and storage lot while he was staying with him. Loren was adding Johann’s things to the kitchen, and Josh, Davis and Johann were putting away Johann’s belongings in the spare bedroom. Carlyn was just about to drift off into a nap, done for the day, when someone sat down on the sofa by his hip. He opened his eyes to find Johann sitting stiff-backed on the sofa, staring straight ahead.

“Johann?” Carlyn muttered.

“Davis told me…" Johann hesitated for a moment before going on. "He thought I should come sit with you. Josh wants to get my room ready for me as a gift and wanted me out of the way anyhow, so… You’re not fucking me! Ever!”

“We agreed to that,” Carlyn reminded Johann.

“But that means… I have to sleep in the bed with you. So I smell like you.”

The thought had actually occurred to Carlyn, but Johann was right, just living in the same house, especially one as big as his, wouldn’t be enough. They would have to sleep in the same bed some more.

“How often do I have to sleep in your bed?” Johann snapped.

“Um… a few nights a week. Maybe every other night.”

“Fine. We’ll start tonight.”

“I’m pretty beat. I was going to go to bed soon.”

“Fine.”

They said goodnight to Loren, who gave them each a kiss -Carlyn on the mouth, Johann on the forehead- then walked up the stairs together. Carlyn took a detour to Johann’s room to get his pajamas, which were shoved at him through a crack in the door, then went to his own room.

In Carlyn's bedroom, they changed together, because while they didn’t like each other, they weren’t going to act like feuding children. Carlyn considered stealing a glance at Johann, but decided against it. He didn't want to start a fight right before their first night together. Instead, he not only turned his back, but closed his eyes as well.

The smell of Johann's skin was a musky, leathery smell, like the punching bag they'd moved into the fitness room. Johann smelled faintly of sweat, as if he'd just been working out. Carlyn now noticed he always smelled like that. It differed from the members of his harem.

Loren smelled of heat and whatever she had last cooked. Josh's favorite products, cologne, shampoo, lotion, etc., hung off him in a soothing, sweet cloud like cotton candy. Davis smelled like a science lab: unsettling, sterile, of antibacterial soap and rubber gloves. Carlyn had been told by other alphas that the smell was a turn off, but for Carlyn it was Davis's smell and he loved it. It made doctor's office visits a little more stressful for him as he struggled to keep his mind off things more intimate than check-ups.

But all his harem seemed so tame compared to Johann. They smelled urbane and domesticated. Johann's scent was wild, angry, like a lightning storm to Carlyn's senses. It made the voice in Carlyn's head roar and claw.

Johann got into the bed first, climbing into the same side he’d been kept on before and making himself comfortable with aggressive movements. When he was deep under the blankets, Carlyn turned off the lights, gave his teddy bear a pat, and slipped into his side of the bed. The urge to turn his back on Johann and simply go to sleep was surprisingly strong. Not that Carlyn was uncomfortable with Johann in his bed. It was the exact opposite. It felt right. He wanted to yawn, say goodnight, and fall into a dreamless, undisturbed sleep. But this was technically business.

Edging closer, Carlyn placed an arm over Johann’s waist, who surprisingly put his arm over his.

“Don’t get any ideas, alpha. It’s just more comfortable this way.”

“We already agreed we wouldn’t have sex. There’s nothing you do, no way you could touch me, that would make me break that promise.”

“Hmph.” Johann began to dig his nails into the back of Carlyn’s hand but stopped after a moment and relaxed. “Goodnight.” Johann said with an air of finality.

“Goodnight.” Carlyn muttered. The voice in his head purred in contentment.

The next day Johann’s room still wasn’t finished, so Carlyn gave him room to dress before they went downstairs for breakfast. Loren gave the grand tour of the kitchen and pointed out where she’d put all of Johann’s things, while Johann served himself. Carlyn waited for Johann to sit down at the table to get his own breakfast.

“You can’t avoid him forever,” Loren said as she poured him a coffee. “Johann smelling like you won’t be enough for long.”

“I just want to give him some space. He’s so jumpy.”

“He’ll come around.” She handed him the coffee, then shooed him away to sit in the dining room.

Carlyn sat in his normal seat at the glass table, a place Johann must have guested at, because he was at the exact opposite side of the table. Sighing, Carlyn watched him for a moment, considering his options. After a moment, he started eating and began the conversation casually.

“You know,” he said between bites of eggs, “you can’t just smell like me and otherwise avoid me.”

“Excuse me?” Johann muttered from behind his glass of orange juice.

“I mean, if we seem to hate each other, people might get suspicious about things. Especially when I donate things to The Lucretian Legion.”

Johann was silent for several moments, eating while watching Carlyn impassively. Carlyn looked backed just as coolly, refusing to let Johann jerk him around. At last, Johann shrugged and turned his attention back to his plate.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said.

“How?” Carlyn asked.

“Never mind it. Can I go into your base with you today? We need another truck for an upcoming demonstration and I want to drop it off.”

“Fine.” Carlyn said. “Better get the base used to seeing you around, in any case.”

They finished breakfast in silence and Carlyn took their plates and glasses into the kitchen to be put into the dishwasher. He kissed Loren goodbye for the day and told her to tell Josh and Davis he loved them, then headed for the garage. Johann sat in the passenger’s seat and frowned out of the window as they pulled out of the garage.

“Last time you were in this car you were unconscious,” Carlyn said lightly.

“Fuck you,” Johann said almost light-heartedly. There was a hint of a smile or sneer is his voice, though Carlyn wasn't sure which it was.

“I’m just making conversation.”

“How about you talk about something useful? Who should I know in The Fangs? There’s that beta I saw. Never seen a beta a bunch of alphas backed away from so quickly.”

“You must mean Adison,” Carlyn laughed. “She’s terrifying. I’m pretty sure she’s the only one who could raise a coup against me, but she loves and respects me, so I’m safe. She’s whip smart, handles the first stage of organizing everything. With her at The Fangs and Loren at home, I have most of my day-to-day life plotted out for me. And she’s a fighter. She might be able to take you on, one-on-one.”

“Maybe," Johann groused. "Who else is there?”

“Along with Adison is my two other under-bosses Becka, and Raji.”

“Those assholes who helped drug me?”

“Yes, them. Becka was the whip wielding one.”

“I remember,” Johann hissed.

“She’s never hurt an omega, Johann. She asks permission before doing what she does. Verbal permission. It’s a game. She’s not bad.”

“Whatever. What’s the hardass into?”

“Raji? He’s mostly into classic music and good food. His omegas are a little spoiled. I don’t think they’ve lifted anything heavier than a wine bottle since bonding with him, but that’s how he likes them, spoiled rotten. He spends a small fortune on presents for them and their kids. He takes them on vacation once a season, right after their heat to reward them for… getting through heat, I guess.”

“Good lord, what the actual fuck?” Johann shook his head. “And I figured you thought of yourself as a fairytale princess, shining armor and all. This guy beats even you!”

“Look, I was raised very traditionally. As an alpha, I was told it was my job to provide for and protect my harem. But Raji goes overboard. He left once and was gone for a day and a half. He told me later that one of his omegas was feeling lonely because he’d been working so much, and he just felt bad about it. I almost hit him. I had just taken over and we were in the middle of turf war with the Red Wolves.”

“Can you trust this guy?”

“We have an understanding now.”

“You hit him.”

“I… yes," Carlyn admitted. "I lost my temper. I was sorry about it later. I didn’t tell him though because I could tell he respected me for standing my ground, the idiot.”

Johann let out a small chuckle. “Delightful.” He was definitely sneering.

Carlyn walked into the main house of the base with his arm around Johann’s shoulders. Johann had his arms crossed and shoulders hunched, but leaned into his embrace as if he wanted to crawl under Carlyn's shirt. The people who saw them move through the building paused at the sight of them, and a few growled their approval, smirked, or nudged Carlyn. Even though Johann said nothing and even pressed himself harder into Carlyn’s side, Carlyn knew he was seething.

“I’m sorry,” Carlyn said when they were alone in his office with the door shut.

“I didn’t expect to enjoy any of this,” Johann said. “I’m in deep cover behind enemy lines. I wasn’t expecting it to be comfortable.”

“I want it to be comfortable for you. I don’t want you to hate this. I’m supposed to be your ally. Me, if no one else.”

Johann stared at Carlyn for a moment before sighing, and a little hatred melted off his face for a moment. “You don’t know anything about the real world.”

“Maybe,” Carlyn relented. He walked around the desk and unlocked his computer with a press of his thumb. “You said you needed one more truck?”

“Yea.”

“For what?” Carlyn’s computer started up, and he sat down to begin the transfer of the truck into The Legion’s hands.

“Redistribution of necessary amenities.”

Carlyn scoffed. “What’s that in real talk? Come on, Johann. You know who you’re talking to.”

“A drug lord and gunrunner.”

“So be real with me. I won’t judge you.”

Johann sighed. “We’re going to hit a pharmaceutical lab and take a few seasons' worth of heat suppressants. Then we're going to give them out to low- and no-income omegas who want to keep alphas off their backs.”

“Sounds legit. Much money in that?”

One moment Carlyn was looking at the screen, then he was colliding with his computer screen at full speed. Instinct kicked in and Carlyn pushed away from the desk, hunched to avoid the rest of the blow and swung out hard with his arm. His arm connected with Johann’s stomach, but only lightly as Johann had jumped back to avoid it. Carlyn lunged for him, hands aiming for his neck, which Johann must have seen coming because he crossed his arms in front of his neck and kicked to throw Carlyn off his balance. As Carlyn started to fall towards the floor, he adjusted his aim and put all his weight on Johann’s waist, bringing them toward the floor, but not without hitting the table behind Johann and knocking everything off it in a loud crash.

Johann hissed, put both hands on Carlyn’s face, and pushed, his knees coming up to dig into Carlyn’s torso. Carlyn growled, climbed to his knees, and used his superior size to pin Johann down at the wrists and thigh, hands on his wrists above Johann’s head, and one knee on his thigh.

“Stay down!” Carlyn growled, but his wasn’t the only growl.

From the door there was a small chorus of sounds and when Carlyn looked, Becka was in the open doorway, flanked by Jackson and another, lower, alpha Molly. Jackson and Molly were smiling wickedly, nudging each other and Becka. Becka looked more concerned.

“We heard crashing,” Becka explained. “I thought you need help with… I guess you didn’t.”

Before Carlyn could say anything, Johann moved, but not to attack him. He leaned up as best he could and nudged him with his head, roughly but affectionately.

“Hey,” he whispered and, when Carlyn looked at him, gave him a questioning look.

Carlyn was on the verge of stupidly asking what Johann was doing, and weren’t they fighting anymore, but Becka spoke first.

“I’m going to just shut the door.” She did, and the room went quiet for a second before Johann said,

“Get the fuck off me.”

“What was that?” Carlyn asked.

“Acting,” Johann said dryly. “Now get the fuck off me.”

Carlyn withdrew off Johann but was no closer to figuring out what sort of situation he was in. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Acting? What about you hitting me? What was that?”

“You’re thick,” Johann muttered as he climbed to his feet. “I’ll walk you through it. You asked if there’s money in what we’re going to do.”

“A fair question,” Carlyn said.

“You weren’t listening to the explanation you asked for, were you? Typical. We’re giving the suppressants to low- and no-income omegas, which implies what?”

“That they can’t afford the suppressants and therefore any money made would be ill gotten, which is not what The Lucretian Legion is about.”

“You’re dumb as a bag of rocks, but you learn fast.”

“Thank you. You could have explained that instead of hitting me.”

“But hitting you was so cathartic,” Johann sighed. “And besides, the situation worked to our advantage.”

“How?”

Johann walked around Carlyn and righted the chair that had been up-ended during their fight. “Rumors,” he said. “I was going to plant some rumors that we had an especially rough sex life. It would explain why I’m so combative with you.”

Carlyn gave a full-throated laugh. “No, it wouldn’t! That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Of course it does. Alphas believe that every omega that’s combative just needs to be fucked by an alpha. And the more combative and unpleasant an omega is, the more the typical alpha believes they need, nay want, to be dominated by a strong alpha. Docile omegas are assumed to be fragile and need gentle care. Aggressive omegas are assumed to need taming. So the less I actually seem to like you, the more the alphas around you will assume you’re fucking me super hard because that’s what I must need and want.”

Staring, opening mouthed, Carlyn processed what Johann said. It didn’t sound right. And yet, Becka and the others had immediately seen them and assumed they were doing something intimate. Sure, Johann had nudged him, but could they really not see they hadn’t been being affectionate?

“Alphas… are tremendously stupid.”

Johann chuckled, a surprisingly genuinely sound. “You don’t know anything about the real world, do you?”

“Hmm,” Carlyn muttered and sat down at his desk. “I’m sorry I asked about making money off your project. Force of habit. Let’s get your truck.”

“We’ll drive it to the drop off this evening,” Johann said, turning his back to Carlyn. “I acquaint myself with your base until then. You do your work. I’ll amuse myself.”

To Carlyn's surprise, Johann spent the whole day at The Fang's base without getting into any fights. He went around making mumbled apologies to people, asking them to excuse The Lucretian Legion for the damage done during their strike on the base.

"We weren't allies then," was what he said, according to Raji, who told Carlyn about it later. "It was just business. You understand."

The Fangs took it all in stride. To them, Johann was officially Carlyn's bonded mate, and it was "apologies accepted" and water under the bridge.

"He's a tough little meg," Jackson said almost affectionately, leaning in Carlyn's office doorway. "It was an honor to have my ass kicked by him. He must be good in bed."

"Amazing," Carlyn said with a smile, even though his skin was crawling. "Where is he now?"

"Having lunch in the yard with some of the girls. They're looking after him for you. Some betas want him to train with them because he's built like a fucking tank." Jackson chuckled. "I mean, he certainly fills out that t-shirt and jeans." He growled in the back of his throat.

"Keep your hands to yourself," Carlyn warned with a tight smile. "Or Johann will rip your dick off and I'll watch with him as you bleed out."

"Right, right. He's yours. Lucky."

Jackson walked away and Carlyn paused and think about how that nagging feeling of annoyance he'd always had with his own sex was blooming into an outright dislike for them.

But while Carlyn spent the day swallowing bullshit compliments about his new relationship, Johann spent the day endearing himself to The Fangs as an irritable, combative, but mostly importantly secretly tamed omega. By the time they left the base, Johann in the truck, and Carlyn following in his own truck, the whole base seemed to be smitten with Johann.

They drove for some time, Johann leading and Carlyn following. They left the city and drove into the country, up into the mountains where the houses became more and more sparse, until they seemed to disappear altogether. Finally, Johann pulled off the road onto a trail and cut the engine. Carlyn pulled up behind the truck and waited. In a moment, Johann appeared next to the passenger side of the truck, opened the door, and got in.

"We can leave," Johann said.

"Should we leave the truck here?"

"It's fine. It won't be here long."

"Should we wait?"

Johann chuckled sarcastically. "You'd love that. No. You see no one but me. Drive."

Seeing he wasn't going to get anywhere, and not wanting to get into another fight with Johann, Carlyn did as he was told. He backed up into the road, turned the car around and did the best he could to navigate his way back down the dark mountain roads. To break up the silence in the car, Carlyn spoke.

"So, we're getting along, aren't we?"

"I guess," Johann muttered.

"I mean, we are, aren't we?"

"I don't want to kill you, so there's that." Johann smiled tightly from what Carlyn could see from the driver's seat.

"That's… good. I mean, we have very different lives and see the world differently. I want to know that I can trust you to keep explaining things to me and not fly off the handle again and lash out at me."

"You're talking about earlier today." Johann said and slumped in the seat. "I said I was sorry."

"No, you didn't. You said it was cathartic."

"Well, I meant to say I was sorry." Johann paused, and in the interim Carlyn wasn't sure what to say. Luckily Johann spoke again after some silence. "Look, I am sorry, Carlyn. I lost my temper. There was something about you wanting to make money off the work we're doing, off of the most vulnerable and helpless omega that was so typical of an alpha that made me lose my sense of… you know…"

"Not hitting someone over the head?"

"Yea."

"I didn't mean to be cruel," Carlyn explained.

"You can't help it," Johann groused.

"And that's what I want to talk about. My nature, my upbringing, everything about me is an offense to you. Things I see as normal could be something you see as horrible. I need you to talk to me from now on. Maybe the world is as you say it is, but maybe it doesn't have to be. I've always been told I act more like an omega than an alpha, maybe I could start really living up to that and do some good, but I'm going to need a teacher. You have to be patient with me."

"I suppose. Frankly, you're less of pain than the rest of your sex. I doubted, when I came to live with you, that you'd ever say anything that'd make me break cover. I was almost disappointed when I said what you did."

"And that's why I need you to promise. I do not know what other things I could casually say that could offend you. For instance, I could have a conversation with someone about pairing centers."

Carlyn turned his head towards Johann for just a moment, just in time to see his reaction. It was just as he expected. Johann's entire body tensed as if an electric current had passed through it. His jaw locked up as he frowned.

Pairing centers had been outlawed decades ago to keep the peace. They were still around, of course. No church, or school, or job could legally force an omega into one, but family certainly could. No business could operate as a pairing center, but illegal businesses certainly did.

There was a stigma around them. No one admitted to forcing their child into a pairing center. The public opinion was worse than the jail time. Businesses accused of operating as a pairing center often used the defense that they were brothels and only coincidently did the alpha john end up bonding with the omega sex workers, and the payments made to the brothels were to pay off any debts the workers had. The chargers for running the brothel weren't as bad.

But that was an alpha's perspective.

To omegas, pairing centers were state sanctioned slavery. It used to be that omegas couldn't continue in school, get a job, register to vote, lease an apartment, open a bank account if they weren't signed up at a pairing center. The pairing center took all their information, height, weight, every measurement, their job, their hobbies, even their friends occasionally. And when that was done, alphas would pay to be paired with them by the center, and the center's word was law. An omega who refused a suitor approved by a pairing center could be kicked out of the system and have every right stripped from. Sometimes a rich alpha of an omega child would pay to have control over who their child bonded with, but that wasn't a guarantee no matter who the alpha was.

The male omega who'd mothered Loren had been bonded by a pairing center. Her father had been pregnant more often than not because that's how his alpha mate liked him. Loren, his oldest, had been the only child he'd been allowed to keep. Loren's father had been bonded to a male alpha who couldn't pass on his family name anyway and had no intention of letting his harem keep a bunch of kids he couldn't even give his name to.

Thinking about it now, Carlyn wondered why he hadn't asked Loren more about how she'd grown up. Maybe he really didn't know anything about the world. Loren had known about The Lucretian Legion, and she'd told him about the pairing centers that had closed just before Carlyn was born. Maybe he should have been asking her more questions. He'd thought leaving her past alone had been the respectful thing to do, but maybe it had been the ignorant thing to do.

Carlyn glanced over at Johann again. It had been several minutes since he'd spoken.

"Johann?"

The silence stretched on for another few seconds before Johann spoke.

"You would never, ever, in a million years support pairing centers," he said calmly. "You're just trying to rile me up."

"No, I'm not. I'm serious. I mean… I could support… the ease of it. Just go in, fill out a questionnaire, and get matched up with the omega who fit the profile. Easy."

"Oh my… One, you said you 'could' support this, which implies you don't. You couldn't even get the sentence out properly. Two, all the pauses while you try to think up something you supposedly supported. Plus, the weak-sauce argument. And, you're a princess in a shining armor, you could never bond with some you don't know. You don't even have a proper harem in your house. Each of your mates has their own room! If you have kids, you're going to need a bigger house! No. You would never stomach finding partners through chattel slavery system. It's not you."

"And if The Lucretian Legion said it was? If they told you I was a threat and ordered you to get rid of me? You said, you explained that alphas who are too big of a threat to let live, you get rid of. What if I become a threat?"

"You're not a threat, Carlyn. You're annoying."

"And if your bosses say otherwise?"

"Anything you do, I'll know about way before they do. They could never tell me anything about you I don't already know. You're not a threat. Not to us."

Carlyn sighed. He figured he should drop it. This wasn't getting him anywhere. Then he thought of one more thing.

"What if The Fangs get into politics? You know, greasing judges and prosecutors and politicians."

"What does that have to do with us?"

"Laws affect omegas. What if the people The Fangs support are your enemies?"

Johann didn't respond right away. They reached an intersection, which allowed Carlyn to look at him. Johann really filled out his t-shirt and jeans. He was gorgeous. Carlyn wished the omega didn't hate him so much.

"I don't think you would do that," Johann said at last. "At least not on purpose. You're too soft. And if you found out after-wards, well, you're not a man of legal ways, Carlyn. I expect you could do something about the judge or politician with those sorts of ideas.

"Are you asking me to possibly assassinate a politician The Lucretian Legion disapproves of?"

"I'm asking you to do to this hypothetical alpha what you do to any alpha who displeases you that much. Does omega abuse bother you, or doesn't it?"

The light changed and Carlyn began to drive.

#dusk novels #Behind enemy ties #alpha/beta/omega #alternative human biology #criminal elements #harams #lgbtq #politics #polyarmory #romance #science fiction #social justice #speculative fiction

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mike-rowe-katze · 5 years ago

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My megapost/rant on Steven Universe, villains and various other things about purity culture (ported from plebbit)

GREETINGS, MOTHERFUCKERS OF THIS WRETCHED HIVE KNOWN AS R/STEVENUNIVERSE! IT IS I, FUBARMEMESDX, WARRIOR OF HATRED AND MISERY! I AM HERE TO DESTROY YOU AND ALL OF YOUR MISCONCEPTIONS REGARDING THIS FINE ENTERTAINMENT PROGRAMME!

Anyway, as for my first point, which I have argued in the past, here is why Diamonds Did Nothing Wrong™ (nothing that's not reversible or inconsequential):

I love the Alright Diamond Authority so much. They're my favourite virtual band. So cute and heartwarming. However, there is an issue here. Whenever you so much as mention a Diamond who isn't coloured pink, you fools immediately start screeching about politics. What I question here is "why?". I shall address all of the common "arguments".

They committed genocide!

As much as the sub loves this word, they don't know what it means. It's the systematic, targeted extermination of an ethnicity from society.

Stop trivialising this word. We need a new word for actual genocide. By your own stupid standards, by eating plants or animals who eat those plants, you have """""""""""""""""""""""committed genocide""""""""""""""""""""""", with massive sarcasm quotes, and I am about to explain this. Who did they commit "genocide" against?

Against planets!

If Peridot's cluelessness about complex organics as a "scientist" and Jasper being a "perfect soldier" while fighting with a crash helmet and breaking down to cry in the middle of a fight didn't already tip you off, Rebecca's 2013 pitch notes for the show, which are identical to the final lore, and a tweet by Ian (https://twitter.com/ianjq/status/1166481003780530176) confirm that Earth was the first planet with intelligent life encountered by Homeworld. Pretty much, the colonies were a good thing, because they created lots of cute Gems, while only sacrificing plants (which you also do, by necessity to live as a human being) and possibly animals (and, if you haven't been vegan for life, you're in no position to preach) to do so. I am a vegan (cue "HAHA HE TOLD US" jokes) and have been for several years, but understand that consumption to continue your species is not fucking genocide. I bet you think Animal Crossing's fishing renders the game an extended metaphor for the genocide of Native Americans. By the way, I'm glad Steven is veggie now. It makes sense, because I always wondered why Steven gave White shit for her "lower lifeforms" stuff, while continuing to consume beings he saw as "lower". Glad that angsty Future Steven is consistent. Also, White isn't wrong. Every lifeform in the show other than Cluster and Obsidian stands at a lower height than her.

Against off-colors!

First, let us establish that an off-color Gem is an imperfect one. An imperfect Gem is one who shows any emotion in their decision-making whatsoever, as androids designed for unfeeling self-reproduction.

White is motivated to stay in her room doing fuck-all because she is afraid that people will see her imperfect body and no longer love her.

Blue is demotivated by pure grief. ("What good will any of this do? The more I make these Gems suffer, the more I long to see you again, Pink.") As far as she knows, the Crystal Gems murdered her daughter, just for doing her job of colonisation. She still doesn't just crush them under her comically oversized fingertips. If that isn't merciful, I don't know what is.

Pink has transitioned into Steven. When he's not out there encouraging the other three to be honest with their emotions, he's emulating White and beating himself up over the fact he can't make everything perfect.

This brings us to our interlude - why Steven is trans Pink:

But GONE!

That meme line doesn't mean what you think it does. Steven has her body (both the gemstone and the light form, seen as a past form in Change Your Mind), her memories (reawakened in Jungle Moon, Can't Go Back, Familiar, Together Alone and Change Your Mind), her powers (to create life, to raise the dead, to cure corruption, the shield) AND her position (as a Crystal Gem and member of the Diamond Authority).

The only things different are the identity, and the flesh body (which is weak and cannot function as an independent human being, and can shapeshift and fuse).

Basically, if you interpret GONE as meaning "he never was her", it's the story of an asshole who abandoned everyone who ever loved her, then dropped all her problems onto her son.

On the other hand, if you interpret GONE as meaning "he no longer identifies as Pink", it becomes the story of a trans boy who became kinder and fixed his mistakes.

It is very clear which one fits more with the show's central theme of self-improvement.

But Pink wasn't an asshole! She saved Earth!

Nope. White did. Can a single Lapis drain Earth's entire ocean? Yes (albeit not killing anyone doing so, since people outside of the cast only exist when the show calls for them to, and Earth would be irreparably fucked in Ocean Gem if the realistic consequences of ocean draining applied, so it's safe to say they don't). Who commands Lapises? Homeworld. Who commands Homeworld? White. Pink's rebellion was non-lethally ended with a single hand attack. If Homeworld really wanted Earth to be destroyed, they could and would do it. They're a bunch of filthy tsunderes.

The point is here is not that Pink was evil, or that Pink was an angel. It's that Pink was bad, but she got better as Steven.

The trans Steven interpretation is further supported by

Blue's "she prefers to be called Steven".

The Tale of Steven book, a retelling of Change Your Mind's dedication to trans kids.

White's pointing out that Steven knows things (the aforementioned memories) that he could not know if he were never Pink.

The parallels between Pink and Steven, especially with Cactus being the new Spinel.

Rose's tape saying she's going to become half of Steven (the properly functioning gem half). Not die for Steven. Become "half of" Steven. Love being him.

This is blatantly obvious. I'm not even trans... or maybe I am and don't know it yet. Anyway, that's irrelevant. How this stuff flies over the heads of 99% of you puzzles me. Hell, it even flies over the head of faelapis, who is otherwise the smartest person in the SU fandom.

Anyway, now that's out of the way, back to the main subject:

Yellow, the only Diamond who even pretends to be competent (she is who you commonly refer to as "the Diamonds"), and is motivated by a desire to look strong and please White, Blue and Steven. Her big boots allow to her stomp any of her enemies into the ground with ease, yet she cannot bring herself to even shatter Amethyst, who is defective, a rebel, an Earthling and directly fighting her,, when given the opportunity. If she won't shatter Amethyst, then who will she shatter? No-one.

Basically, they are off-colors. They also create all the other ones and cast them away as their imperfect parts, their waste which they are ashamed of.

You might bring up those drones, but the fact that Padparadscha, who sees constantly into the past, is still alive, that the drones only scan the gemstones, you can hide behind a fucking rock, and that the drones are indiscriminate and attack Steven, a Diamond, defuses any threat the drones may pose. Either Yellow knows they're useless and is just keeping her reputation up, or she is too naive to be dangerous. Take your pick.

Yellow, after knocking Steven out in Reunited, doesn't even stomp on his body. That's right. She won't even kill the person who, as far as she knows, is the Rose Quartz who murdered her beloved Pink. She says "time to execute" in The Trial, but if she was really so dead-set on that, she would just... do it. With her bare hands. They're big enough. Her later speech about being "brittle" and not cut out for the job suggests the "pretender" interpretation.

Now, to continue:

They're fascists!

Diamonds possess an unholy amount of physical power. They say they'll shatter off-colors and rebels, and could with their bare feet, but don't. This leaves two possibilities: either they're tsundere characters who don't really want to, which is in line with the show's theme of "you're better than you think, you should stop being so hard on yourself", or they're too stupid to realise that they can do that. Either way, they don't pose a real threat, and certainly don't enforce a political ideology. Unlike most "evil emperor" villains (think Star Wars' Galactic Empire), who do kill their enemies, albeit inconsistently as the result of an "idiot plot" required for to the heroes to win, Diamonds are so physically powerful that they literally cannot be defeated in battle by the heroes (Blue can take her entire ship crashing onto her without a scratch), and have the ability to poof enemies or take control of their minds instantly. They absolutely could kill their enemies effortlessly, but 100% consistently don't. This means that they, for whatever reason (probably just being big softies), are merciful and don't actually want to.

Stop poisoning this show with politics. All of the characters are motivated by raw emotion. If they had grand political goals, they wouldn't break down, they would be mechanically dead-set on achieving them.

You might cite Jasper's speech in Earthlings as "fascism", but in the very same episode, this is rendered moot - she, as Homeworld's "perfect soldier", stops fighting to cry, with no tactical advantage.

Pretty much, picture this:

You are God - an invincible being who creates every person as an imperfection of you that you split from yourself. You are also a robot, created with express purpose of assimilating the cosmos with no second thought. You also have very big sandals, allowing you to stomp anyone who dares oppose into the ground. You are faced with the opportunity to do this countless times. Instead of actually doing it, the job makes you miserable and you choose not do it.

Instead of praising you for your bravery in defying your programming and showing everyone mercy, a subreddit forms a lynch mob saying you need to be executed, as pointless vengeance, for things you didn't do, after you opened up.

This is the story of White Diamond.

I feel that most people who disliked Change Your Mind, were operating on the false premise that this would be a show about "beating muh fascists", ignoring every single hint that it gave them about its personal themes and every single time the antagonists spared Steven and co. The show couldn't make it more obvious that its combat was irrelevant and inconsequential, but I guess you're so accustomed to conventional "good guy kills bad guy" shows that you forgot this one was different, and desperately grasped for ways to degrade it into a show about evil.

You also claim that White was rushed, which is probably based on your fallacious idea that "character is x% evil, they must take x long to change". White Diamond is my favourite fictional character. She's been a real source of comfort to me and my OCD, with her whole "feeling guilty and embarrassed about things she really shouldn't" thing. She's a bit like Pink from The Wall, with the "learning to break your metaphorical wall of isolation" theme.

Pink (Floyd, not Diamond), funnily enough, imagines himself as Hitler at one point (In the Flesh Part 2, Run Like Hell, Waiting for the Worms). I can relate to these power fantasies, the feeling of wanting things under your control, then realising acting meaner won't solve anything. Not to the actual Nazi aspect, but to that.

White, however, has none of these. She's like The Wall but with none of the political charge or Roger Waters' bitterness. Of course, the sub still tries to Nazify her anyway. Perhaps it's because of her name... poor choice.

They're dictators!

No, they're gods. They don't possess just political power, they create every other member of their species out of their excrement, are near-invincible, can raise the dead, and every other member of the species is inherently predisposed to following them. Do Christians complain that the biblical God, who is actually massively homicidal in his depiction, is undemocratic? Do you go on "Mario-critical" rants because Princess Peach, a "dictator" - a member of a fictional royal family, albeit one who actually does stomp her enemies, is portrayed in a positive light? Of course not.

They cause corruption!

Yeah, and that was great. It ended the rebellion without killing anyone. It only muted and confused Gems, then Diamonds healed it. White's initial reason to come out of her room is to reverse corruption. It worked out in the end, and we see that the formerly-corrupted Gems are still friends of Diamonds.

They made the Cluster!

If you're talking about destroying Earth, remember that the Cluster's concept art shows her as only 12 temples tall, which matches her arm length in Reunited of about 3 temples tall. She couldn't. I have said "I want this planet to die" before, in one my blow-outs. Depression is a bitch. Sometimes I feel like that. Doesn't mean I'm actually gonna destroy the world. It's just Yellow spouting shit to reassure Blue. Either that or she is dumb and harmless. Pick one. What competent general's best weapon is a friendly anxious girl who gives you thumbs ups?

If you're talking about suffering, have you forgotten Gem Drill? The Cluster isn't a crime. She's a person. One who is capable of peaceful existence and learns to love herself. She stops worrying once Steven assures her that she is not alone and has company in the form of all the shards composing her. This can apply for other forced fusions, too.

I always thought the Cluster's arc was about body positivity - if you're shaped differently, but are not at risk from your physique, there's no reason to worry. Undertale fans commonly make the same mistake for Amalgamates - for characters who look weird but are friendly and capable of peaceful existence, the mistake of portraying them as endless suffering for the sake of sounding edgier.

Pretty much, the shattered Gems composing her found new life. She's good. And the other ones are safely bubbled in Yellow's room along with the Crystal Gems in Change Your Mind.

They're rapists!

Not this fucking shit again. Fusion isn't sex. Sharing food can be used as an analogy of consent. That doesn't mean food is sex. If you say this, you also call Pearl (Cry for Help) and Steven (Change Your Mind) "rapists", which is incredibly insensitive.

They're slavers!

Creating AI servants then, out of your own compassion, allowing them to act freely, isn't the same as finding free people and enslaving them.

They made the zoo!

The zoo is a "cruise ship", as Y-6 describes it, where caveman and Quartz inhabitants (except Holly) live blissfully in utopia. The show has a theme of "if it makes you happy and harms no-one, keep doing it". What's wrong with staying in the zoo, then?

Do not mention actual human zoos. Those were not utopian. Those were racial segregation prisons. The human zoo in the show is one in name only.

They're Hitler / any other real political/criminal/racial/religious/economic/military figure!

https://i.imgur.com/kkczmoN.jpg

Have this. As for non-Nazi individuals or organisations you may mention, they obviously don't exactly match the left checklist, either.

Godwin's law isn't cool.

For the few of you tankies here who think that Andy is a Nazi, see this: https://faelapis.tumblr.com/day/2019/06/06/

Nazi Germany and World War II are interesting historical subjects, and funny ones to satirise, but this show doesn't feature them at all.

Now I am done explaining why they are not bad. Your entire view has been shattered. Or not. You might still try to argue your objectively wrong view by repeating the word "genocide" over and over, but you cannot argue against what I have just explained. I cited the sources and the show themes. The crew and u/PixieDustFairies are both (unintentionally?) on my side. You have lost.

I say "Diamonds", but I mean "any character from this show", including but not limited to Lapis, Jasper, Bismuth and Spinel.

But it's like I'm pissing in an ocean. No matter how many people receive my message, the sub's dominant mindset will be "muh war, muh genocide, muh vengeance, muh dead Pink". They will always be ignorant and follow the zeitgeist of objective incorrectness. I can't voice my frustrations enough. The Muse lyric in my flair was chosen because I wish I could destroy the city of delusion that is this sub.

Anyway, onto the second point: Self-improvement.

Even in an alternate universe where Diamonds actually did any of the bad stuff you mindlessly accuse them of, that wouldn't change the fact that they want to help, and there's no reason not to let them.

You might bring up real-life criminals who pretend to improve to escape prison then re-offend, but the difference is that Diamonds aren't in danger. They couldn't be imprisoned or killed, and their enemies are always at their mercy. Furthermore, these criminals are motivated by psychopathy or political ideology, whereas Steven Universe villains are always motivated by raw, genuine emotion. Any improvement they show is, therefore, out of kindness and not ulterior motives.

Also, why would improvement in a show about self-improvement be fake? This is not a show about "people trying to kill you" (the villains stop themselves, and saying "I'll kill you, Steven, Earth go boom!" is the status quo in the show, not a special "evil" exception). Steven lampshades this in Space Race from season 1. He's used to it. The villains are not representations of real attackers (the poof/bubble system exists to stop real combat comparisons). They're you. Representations of different issues you might have, and how you shouldn't hate yourself for them. If the show were to have a "some people are just irredeemable lol" message, it would be giving up on you. I've seen a lot of people say "oh, this show's only real flaw is that it redeems everyone". Nope. That's its strength. That all of its major villains, who are essentially therapy dolls, find hope. The reassurance that you will find hope.

"Some people just can't change" is also objectively wrong. You can't change other people. They can. You might say "muh hitler/other reviled political figure", but the difference is, Hitler and co chose not to change. It would be an entirely different story if they did. Too bad for you and for them, they didn't. IRRELEVANT! INSENSITIVE! FRIVOLOUS! FUTILE! Saying "Steven redeems (insert character)" is a critical misunderstanding of what Steven does - he encourages the villains, but ultimately, the villains themselves make the choice to open up.

Why would a show about emotional comfort suddenly switch to being a cynical court of law? If it were a court, Amethyst would be jailed in Gem Glow and Steven in Laser Light Cannon, for theft of Cookie Cats and destruction of Beach City respectively. The point here is, anything that doesn't result in any permanent damage to characters is irrelevant. Why would the characters be Machiavellian manipulators in a show explicitly intended as a therapy tool for its author and its viewers?

A fandom with a similar problem is Undertale. Sans explains in neutral routes that, although "self-defense" would be acceptable in real combat, your save/load powers mean you're never in any danger. The best way to explain Undertale is with kittens. That is to say, a kitten scratches you, in an "attempt to kill you". You know for sure that the kitten can't hurt you. Why would you stomp on the kitten, then? That's all it's saying. Not anything specifically about combat. Just "be nice when reasonably possible", nothing more complex. In the game, because you are an immortal time-travelling puppet, it's always reasonably possible. The other things it says are "you can doesn't mean you have to, don't push it" and "depression is a bitch". Fans seem to disregard this, and that's where the common but inaccurate names, "pacifist" and "genocide" runs come from. The "pacifist" run isn't pacifism, it's just common sense. The "genocide" run isn't targeted, it's "destroy absolutely everything". It's omnicide if anything.

The monsters don't give a fuck about politics, and just want freedom, which could be obtained with your soul, but even then, they're willing to turn over within minutes if they like you. Asgore did nothing wrong, because he (1) keeps the human souls alive in jars, and they help you later, (2) arranges a duel with you and will only fight you with your explicit consent, (3) is responsible, along with Papyrus, Alphys and Flowey, for the freedom of monsters without a second war, (4) wants you to win and (5) holds back in battle. He's too hard on himself, and so is Toriel too hard on him, but fans often forget all of the previous to paint him as an evil murderer.

Anyway, if SU were trying to be a combat manual, why would the characters be magical androids whose bodies are made of light and can be poofed and bubbled? You cannot be forced to kill Gems, Steven has psychic powers allowing him to confirm mental processes, and humans in-show can be revived by Diamonds, so any real stakes are dissipated, leaving a solely emotional and personal context. A glorified talk show with fantasy battles to look exciting.

Here's point three: They are near-invincible.

As explained in the point about Blue taking the whole ship, you would be at their mercy. Attempting their murder would not be a good idea. If they so wanted to, they could crush you in an instant. Befriending them is the only way forward here.

Fourth, they create every other Gem:

If you were to kill even one Diamond, you would fuck Gemkind forever. It's not cool to end a species for the sake of vengeance. Diamonds themselves are cool enough not do that, despite having Lapises and boots at their disposal.

Now for point five: They are required to heal corruption.

Are you forgetting that Yellow, Blue and the Crystal Gems' explicit goal is to coax White out her room and heal Nephrite and co? If you murdered her, you would never be able to do that. Keep this shit in mind.

Point six, you can poof and bubble Gems.

Even if Diamonds were hypothetically evil, unwilling to change, not invincible, not mothers and not required to heal corruption, there would still be no reason to shatter them. Poofing and bubbling is easier, more effective and causes less suffering.

Do you support the death penalty? If so, why? I'm not talking about war or defense. I'm talking execution here.

It can only be performed after the target is imprisoned and helpless, so it has no advantage in public safety over life imprisonment.

The only purpose it serves is vengeance for the sake of it, which has no place in a justice system, something which is logically intended to protect the public and nothing else.

Basically, say, there's this guy who eats babies, stabs grandmas and kicks puppies. You might say he "needs" to die, but if police have already captured him, they can just throw him in jail and be done with it. He can't hurt anyone further. Killing him will not un-eat those babies. It simply enacts vengeance, which is understandable to want, but the death penalty isn't just for this guy. It's a system. One which kills helpless prisoners and, sometimes, innocent people.

But that's not really relevant. Diamonds couldn't be imprisoned in-show anyway. Too powerful. They aren't baby-eaters, either. As I explained earlier, this isn't about justice, or crime, or survival. The show defuses itself.

Finally, the seventh: They're fucking fictional. Warning, Star Wars ahead:

Even if Diamonds were just one-dimensional symbols of evil and corruption, like Palpatine (who is my favourite Star Wars character for that reason - being over-the-top, smug pure evil), it would still be okay to like them. Fictional villains, if they even kill, which Diamonds are shown not to, kill other fictional characters. Not real people. Liking villains doesn't make you recreate them. They're here to drive plots. Liking Vader doesn't make you kill children in military strikes. ~~Working for the US Army might.~~ Liking Hux doesn't mean you like blowing up planets. Liking Poe doesn't mean you like blowing up planets. SW is a series in which brazen mass destruction and ridiculous numbers of background character deaths are commonplace. This says nothing about your personality if you think its characters are cool. It goes for heroes, too. Liking Luke doesn't make you a space-wizard-fighter-pilot. Liking Han doesn't mean you like smuggling spice. I could go on and on.

Oh, and don't get me started on Kylo Motherfucking Ren. This dude kills a bunch of fictional characters, including his daddy. He does so because he's an unstable goth witch. His First Order, while containing Nazi-inspired imagery in some areas, hires black soldiers, so he is certainly not a (fictional) Nazi. Also, stop calling him a school shooter. He didn't shoot up a school. He lightsabered up a Jedi Temple, a military academy. But, you have fuckers on the internet saying that you support the KKK if you have a picture of Kylo Ren on your cereal box. You can relate to Ben without stabbing your dad, just as you can relate to Luke without getting your hand cut off by your dad. Liking a character doesn't mean re-enacting them. Characters are vehicles with which to drive the plot.

Here are some handy things to remember before you spout politically loaded terms about cheesy villains: did your character shoot up a school? If not, they're not a school shooter. Is your character an anti-Semite? If not, they're not a Nazi. Does your character pass up an opportunity to kill their enemies when they feel like it? If so, they're not a fascist. Does your character believe that the state should control all resources? If not, they're not a communist. Is your character a military agent? If so, they're not a serial killer. Did your character sexually violate someone? If not, they're not a rapist. Is your character an adult attracted to prepubescent children? If not, they're not a paedophile. Is your character fighting for Islam? If not, they're not a jihadist. Is your character fictional? If so, it's okay to like them regardless of their in-universe status. https://dingdongyouarewrong.tumblr.com/post/187991068090/yall-have-gotta-stop-using-words-like-abusive is a post that summarises my feelings here.

Kylo Ren is perhaps the character with the most obsessed hatedom of all time. He does bad stuff, they all say "HES EVIL KILL HIM". He decides to stop doing bad stuff, they all say "REEE HES NOT ALLOWED TO BE GOOD". He can't catch a break either way. If you're looking for an asshole Star Wars character who has no conflict within him and relishes in pure demonism, see Palpatine. If you're looking for a court of law, if you're looking to see a lynching, don't watch Star Wars, a series whose original trilogy stars technically a terrorist as its protagonist. That's right. If SW were a court like you wanted, rather than an adventure film, Luke would be executed. The Empire is the government, remember. Is this what you want?

I wish SU's fanbase was as chill as Final Fantasy VII's. FF's fanbase overall is split as fuck, to an even greater degree than SW's, but let's talk VII specifically. Everyone likes Cloud, Rufus, Sephiroth and whoever. In-universe, one is an ecoterrorist, one is a corrupt businessman, and the other is an arsonist. The fans seem to understand, for the most part, that these characters are just driving a fictional plot - didn't hurt any real people, aren't in a court, and it's okay to like them and even ship them.

I hate your "anti-improvement" attitude. If this fictional edgelord wants to become kinder, why not let him? That's what I don't understand. Your obsession with "justice" doesn't protect anyone further, it just tries to make sure bad never becomes good. I say Vader's redemption is "deserved", because you get the right to be less shitty, by, well, being less shitty. Who cares if he killed children? So did Obi-Wan and Yoda. It's Star - it's fantasy, and it's Wars - it's massively destructive in-universe. It's Star Wars, not Real Isolated Incidents of Violence. Do you say Luke is irredeemable because he killed 1.2 million background characters in a terrorist attack? It's not about the actions. It's what they represent. The younglings represent Anakin killing his innocence, whereas the Death Star represents Luke beating the odds, stopping the doomsday weapon. What matters is that Anakin showed his ability to care, reawakened by Luke. That Luke was right in saying Anakin wasn't completely fucked.

Anyone can improve. This is an objective fact. If you strive to be the best you can, that's enough. Some people, like the politicians and criminals you always bring up, choose not to. If the real Hitler hypothetically decided to stop the Jew-killing thing and join the Allies, why stop him? Of course, he didn't. This disqualifies him as a comparison here. The desire to improve is what, fictionality aside, separates characters like Anakin and Ben from MUH POLITICS. The obsessed antis are all like, "y u ship rey with dad killuh?", which is like saying "y u ship leia with drug smuggluh?" - they're fictional - explorations of concepts and personality, not criminal records. As soon as you're space, you're not Hitler. I am sick and tired of all these useless and often asinine comparisons. If you try to equate fantasy villains 1-1 with real figures, you're gonna have a bad time.

I also find it very insensitive to put fictional villains on the same level as real depraved criminals. Someone who kills fictional characters to drive a plot of entertainment versus someone who destroys real lives for no purpose. I like playing as Bowser in Mario Kart. I don't like kidnapping princesses. I like Radiohead's Knives Out. I don't like cannibalism. Town of Salem is my favourite online game. I don't like witch hunts.

On a related note, emphasis is everything. Luke Skywalker might have more kills than a slasher villain. That doesn't mean he's more disturbing than one. It's all about focus and narrative purpose. Luke is no sadist or pervert. There is no emphasis on the pain and visceral suffering he might cause. This is also why, for example, I am more comfortable with Ravenholm in Half-Life 2 than I am with, say, a screamer shock site. Ravenholm may be more "graphic" (screaming zombies, dismemberment and whatnot), but it serves its purpose as part of a whole - a good game, with a specifically and effectively spooky part. The hypothetical screamer, on the other hand, is a cheap one-trick pony with no greater purpose or tonal merit. Anakin burning is more disturbing than the destruction of Alderaan, because despite being zero deaths vs. countless, the former has emphasis on pain and desperation, whereas the latter is simply a depiction of a big rock exploding. I like Town of Salem, but I probably wouldn't like it if its lynchings were less comical as a gameplay mechanic and actually tried to depict suffering.

Finally, this is why your government is probably less despicable than a terrorist organisation. Your country's government might have killed greater numbers, but it is probably less targeted and ideologically extreme, and serves a purpose other than to destroy. This is also why despots are less viscerally disturbing to discuss than serial killers. It's why Waiting for the Worms has more artistic value, and is less disturbing, than actual neo-Nazi propaganda - it serves a tonal purpose within its greater work, rather than simply being a glorification of Nazism. Depiction and advocacy are two different things.

But, enough Star Wars (and real wars). Diamonds and co don't even do anything like that.

Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed the complete absolution of Diamonds. You probably won't listen. You will probably ignore all of the evidence and citations I have provided, and will counterargue with politically-loaded words whose usage I have already debunked.

In summary:

Actual show's Diamonds:

A group of four people, who learn to understand each other and realise they're not that different.

Can be a bit scary sometimes, and absolutely have the power to wipe you out, but never do so because they are soft pushovers.

Created every other Gem as an extension of themselves.

Are motivated by a feeling of inadequacy, desire to cheer up the others, sadness and all three of the previous, respectively.

Created the Cluster, a revival of the shattered as a being capable of love and healing, under the guise of blowing up Earth (which it would only take a single Lapis to do).

Haven't a clue about alien biology.

Are walking disorders, but trying their best.

VERSUS

Sub's idea of Diamonds:

A single person named "The Diamonds", who is pure evil and not like the heroes at all.

Always shatter their enemies with no second thought.

Took over Homeworld, and should be overthrown.

Are motivated by a lust for power and political ideology.

Created the Evil Cluster, a horrible abomination of eternal suffering that is beyond help.

Enslaved several other sapient alien species.

Are pure evil and all their help is fake.

Now, which one seems more in line with the therapy show? The top, of course.

Appendix on Kevin and Average Dickery:

You may ask why Steven has more sympathy for Diamonds than Kevin. Other than the fact that no-one here is that bad, as explained previously, here's why:

Major vs Minor: All four Diamonds are major characters. Kevin is a minor recurring character. Of course Diamonds are going to be given more attention than him. If you're looking for a character who initially acts like Kevin (an average "jerk"), but is major and warms up to Steven, see Lars. On a related note, Kevin himself seems to be hiding some kind of affection when he comments on how genuine Stevonnie is. This is like asking why Luke Skywalker has more sympathy for Darth Vader than, say, Ponda Baba, or why Mario goes racing with Bowser and not some random Goomba.

Emotional discharge: Steven is about helping people in need of comfort and encouraging self-love. Whereas the show's "serious antagonists" (eg Jasper, three Diamonds, Lapis) show deep insecurities and flaws, Kevin is simply there to teach Stevonnie a lesson about obsession - Stevonnie is willing to give Kevin the benefit of the doubt, with his lying "little brother" story, but he's just being a heel, some dude who lives for the haters, rather than an actual mess. This is like asking why I like Thom Yorke, who frequently threatens to kill me in song lyrics, over some random dude harassing me in the street.

Necessity (Banana Co.): Befriending the Diamonds, healing corruption and not starting another war are the goals of the Crystal Gems. Central plot. Kevin, on the other hand, is some dude occasionally harassing/partying with Stevonnie.

Status quo: Saying "Imma kill you, Steven, planet is boom" is the status quo for new major characters - engaging in inconsequential magical fights, singing and crying. On the other hand, mundane creepery/dickery is something uncommon for the show.

It's great if Kevin helped you stop being creepy or obsessed, and I think he's cute, but obviously him and (more majorly) Lars' thing is less important in the show's context than the central theme of emotional difficulty, and getting over it, presented with Crystal Gems, Diamonds et cetera.

Other Appendix on how White/Yellow/Blue are no worse than Crystal Gems and this is intentional because it's about sobbing messes who find comfort in each other and not good guys versus bad guys:

Threatened to kill Steven/Garnet/whoever!

Garnet threatens to permanently bubble Lapis and Peridot, simply for not being on her team, essentially threatening to kill them. Also, the Crystal Gems have seemingly endangered Steven's life or directly fought him in many situations.

Forced fusion!

Pearl tricks Garnet into fusing with her. Steven also fuses with the other Crystal Gems to awaken them from poofing.

Called fusions they don't like abominations!

Garnet called the Cluster an abomination, and said she wanted her destroyed. Blue's "fusion police" attitude also spreads to Garnet when she's anal about Sardonyx and the mutant fusions. Funnily enough, the Cluster is probably a healthier relationship than Garnet. Ruby and Sapphire can split, but are left helpless without each other. The Cluster's components, on the other hand, necessarily stick together and never separate, to feel whole. That is to say, Cluster is symbiotic, whereas Garnet, although contented, takes away the autonomy of two Gems who could function separately.

Threatened to destroy humanity!

Bismuth threatened to destroy the Diamonds, and thus Gemkind which is kept alive by them.

Killed (insert being here)!

Didn't happen, see earlier analysis.

Pretty much, it's just the term "Crystal Gem" that instantly marks a character as "good" for you. Perhaps. Or maybe the star. If you're going to judge "the Diamonds" as one entity, at least be consistent and judge "the Crystal Gems" as a single entity, too.

I very strongly disagree with people who say that the show "needs" an "irredeemable" villain. While pure evil villains are fun, this show is not about this kind of person. It's not saying that psychopaths don't exist, it's just not about psychopaths. The point with this show's every major character is that they all represent different temper and self-worth issues, and how to overcome them and be loved in spite of them.

Saying this show is bad because it doesn't try to be a combat manual and isn't about Machiavellianism is like saying The Dark Side of the Moon is a bad album because it doesn't have any death metal songs on it. Alternatively, it's like asking "why doesn't my yoga class teach me how to operate a tank?". Man, I wish my therapist gave me a licence to operate M249 SAWs. "Why doesn't Animal Crossing let you go to hell and slay demons?" "Why doesn't Doom let you relax and build a town?"

Death metal is cool. Pure evil villains are cool. But, just as Pink Floyd is not a metal band, Steven Universe is not a good-versus-evil show. TDSOTM, as an introspective album, would not benefit from a death metal song. SU, as a hurt/comfort show, would not benefit from a psychopath character. The villains might be you. That is, they're not representing enemies you will face so much as problems and quirks you might have.

On a related note, I despise the "appeal to worse problems"/"children in Africa" fallacy. Just if you're sociopolitically sound doesn't mean you're personally sound. It conflates "X is bad" as a statement with "X is the most globally important issue". It's like saying "You've been shot? Don't complain! You could be on fire!". Radiohead's Palo Alto sums it up (I'm OK, how are you? Thanks for asking, thanks for asking! I'm OK, how are you? I hope you're OK too!). You get rich, or maybe you have a nice life on paper. You have to pretend you're fine because that would be "spoiled" to be honest with your feelings. MGMT's Time to Pretend also does it well, as does Yellow Diamond's character in the show.

Different things have different subjects. That's it. You might like a cold political drama on a massive scale. That's cool. It tackles societal and political issues. But SU isn't that. It's about personal issues. A different kettle of fish entirely.

That is all I have to say about Diamonds.

Now for an interlude, a different point: Stop calling people paedophiles and rapists over a show.

I will make the point if you are attracted to Steven, Connie or whoever else, this does not make you a paedophile, because:

Paedophilia is the primary sexual attraction to prepubescent children.

Steven is a teenager, a point at which sexuality is natural.

Steven is drawn in such a way that he does not resemble a real person, so attraction to him for whatever reason does not mean attraction to any real age group. Amethyst, Peridot, Ruby, Sapphire and Spinel are all shorter, less mature and higher-pitched than him. I don't any crusades against liking those five.

You might say "bUt hE's 17!", but that's just an informed attribute in-show. The form of Ame/Peri/Ruby/Sapphy/Spinel means your objection is not appearance-based. If wanting to fuck Steven meant you wanted to fuck real children because 17-year-olds are children, then wanting to fuck Jasper or whoever would mean you want to fuck mummified corpses, because that's what real 6000-year-olds are.

It would also mean you're calling Rebecca Sugar a "paedo" for having drawn Ed, Edd 'n' Eddy smut as a teenager.

They don't look like real children, so nothing deeper is meant by that. Hell, even Pearl looks more like a real child than Steven does. That is, still not at all similar in any meaningful way.

Also, it's okay to ship anyone.

Don't give me the "ShEs 6000 and hEs 17" bullshit. Gems don't age, so the physical time they've been around has nothing to do with their maturity or feelings, unless you're going to argue that Peridot, Amethyst and Spinel of all people are intended to be like old women.

FUCKING STOP CALLING RULE 34 ART "CHILD PORNOGRAPHY". SERIOUSLY, ARE YOU PUTTING HEAVILY STYLISED FICTIONAL DRAWINGS THAT DON'T ACTUALLY HURT ANYONE IN WHICH THE AGE IS SIMPLY AN INFORMED ATTRIBUTE ON THE SAME LEVEL AS ACTUAL CHILD SEXUAL EXPLOITATION? JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? THIS IS THE MOST TRIVIALISING AND SENSATIONALIST SHIT I'VE EVER HEARD.

Also, for the few of you who call Steg "child porn", FUCKING STOP. Not only does Steg look more like Freddie Mercury than he looks like an actual child, so, even less realistic than Steven, no children were sexually exploited to produce him.

Stop harassing real people over the rights of drawings. You may say they "normalise" CSA, but that's the "Doom makes people shoot each other" argument verbatim. Cartoons don't look real. Shooting stuff in Doom doesn't feel real. I'm saying real harassment causes more harm than a picture of a cartoon Steven's little wiener.

Even in the case of real child abuse, you still shouldn't want people murdered over it. If you do that, if you celebrate the murder of imprisoned child molesters, you're still celebrating murder. Murder of helpless people who are incapable of doing any more harm, and usually didn't even kill anyone.

Here's a disclaimer: I'm ace. I'm not attracted to any characters or real people, nor do I have any ship I particularly like other than generally "every Gem loves every other one".

I am not defending Nazism or child abuse, just telling you to stop fucking TRIVIALISING those terms and explaining why this show and its fandom are neither.

Anyway, now my three controversial points are fully argued, have one that's a bit more minor but still pisses off this contrarian sub:

Spinel did nothing wrong.

Whenever I view this sub, the top post is always about how Pink is a pure angel and Spinel is evil, saying "oh, neglect doesn't excuse Spinel's doing nothing of consequence but it does excuse Pink's ruining of Spinel". Fuck off.

I have already explained how Pink became Steven, so he's out the way now.

Anyway, let's get to Spinel.

She's literally Bismuth 2.0.

She was screwed over by Pink/Rose for 6000 years. She lashed out and said she would destroy Earth/the Diamonds (and, by extension, humanity/Gems), but a single girl with a drill couldn't do that. She decided, ultimately, of her own accord, not to kill anyone despite the vast physical power she possessed. She's a big sobbing pushover. She worried that no-one would love her, but Garnet/White, Amethyst/Yellow and Pearl/Blue proved her wrong.

The movie is basically Made of Honor but longer.

This sub upvotes literally anything that shits on Spinel, but not the same for Bismuth.

Why?

It's just contrarianism, isn't it? In September, we were all gushing over her.

She was tricked and abandoned by her "best friend", only find out after patiently waiting for six fucking thousand years that Pink had lived a life without her and replaced her with "real" friends. I'll say it, Spinel's rage is completely justified and understandable. The Crystal Gems, Rose cared for them. But she didn't care about Spinel. Those other friends stole everything away from her. And then, you know what? Who stopped Spinel? Spinel, you fucking imbecile. Not Steven. He says things, but it's ultimately her decision to break down crying, not kill anyone, smash the distinctly non-ocean-destroying machine, and admit that she needs help. That's brave.

And you know what? When Steven lowers his shield, Spinel could use her giant fists that have the power to break the injector with a single punch to uppercut Steven's fucking head off. But she chooses not to. She doesn't have it in her.

The sub says "tRiDe tA kaMMet jingledinglecide!". Well, guess what: it's not fucking genocide if there is no target ethnicity, and it's not fucking "trying" if you stop yourself. That's like saying being a misanthrope is racist.

So, what are her "crimes", in the end? Just being upset. That's literally it. But you think she should be killed for thoughtcrimes because she had one bad day. Apparently, all her hurt and anxiety doesn't "justify" being upset. She's "evil" because she even did the status quo for the show, consider destroying Steven and Earth. And, before you starting ranting about property damage, Ctrl+F Laser Light Cannon.

Picture this:

You were created to love someone.

That someone leaves you and says she'll return.

You wait six fucking thousand years, patiently, for her.

Turns out, as far you know, she's dead. She lied to you. No-one ever loved you.

Now, her "son" and his friends, celebrate "everyone getting a happy ending", while leaving you high and dry, when you were the one literally created to be her friend.

One of those other friends remembers you. She still doesn't tell anyone about you.

You have a "planet-destroying" injector. Fuck that planet. It's full of worthless, ignorant scum. Scum who ruined your life and gloat about having a happy ending.

You, naturally, snap. You slam the stupid-ass drill into the planet. Literally anything you do would be understandable at this point.

Bastard son cuts you in half, after stealing your weapon from you. This isn't self-defense, it's vengeance.

You regenerate without your memories.

You regain them, revisiting that garden you were left in.

Son sings song about how you'll feel found again.

Then, he basically admits that he only cares about his "real" friends, and only needed you to turn off the drill and nothing else.

Alright, fuck that guy. He knows exactly what your issue is, abandonment. He still thinks abandoning you will be a good idea. Selfish prick. Wilful ignorance. He claims the be the saviour of the universe, yet only cares for a few people. Some of those few people - the water one and the rainbow one, they have the exact same issue as you. He wanted to help them. Why not you?

Turn drill back on, fight him.

He finally realises that his previous understanding and care is what led him to his "happy ending" in the first place.

He lets down his shield.

Your fist, which can grow to infinite size and break your entire comically oversized drill with one punch, could blow his head off.

You choose not to, because you're nice. You're sad, not a psychopath.

He's probably ready to abandon you again for his "real friends", although he says he won't.

Three nicer Diamonds come and adopt you.

That's Spinel. This sub has the idea that, because Rebecca said the word "toxic", Spinel "deserved" her abandonment and crippling self-esteem issues - the idea that she's "evil" and Steven is the perfect victim who can do no wrong. "Toxic", God, I hate that word. It usually avoids explanation for a predefined good/evil mindset. The whole point of the movie is that Steven improves himself, just as Spinel does. He realises that he's not being as helpful as could be, and decides to change that. You might "oh, he has no obligation to help her", but if he's helped people like her before, there's no reason for him not to continue doing so. Are you content with regression? What Steven does before his realisation is the equivalent of throwing a firework display in front of someone who you know is a PTSD-riddled ex-marine, knowing what will happen but doing it anyway, for the pleasure of your "real friends" - reassuring her worry that no-one really cares for her.

Don't tell me you wouldn't snap if the above sequence of events happened to you. Hell, that's a good benchmark. "Would I feel this way if x happened to me?" If the answer is "yes", it's justified. I'm not talking politics here, I'm talking emotional breakdowns. Not justified in a court, but in terms of understandability. If I had a fist that big, I would have almost certainly murdered at least one of you by now. I'm not saying I want to, I'm just saying I don't think I could manage that level of restraint with such great power. That, as discussed earlier, is why Diamonds are exceptionally merciful and patient characters. If you were a robot, literally created for the express purpose of managing quarries and producing more robots, but then choose not to use your massive physical power to crush your opponents anyway, what did you do wrong? Why do people call you "HITLUH"? That's the greater Diamonds. When people say White, Yellow and Blue "abused" Pink, they don't seem to realise that Pink was literally engineered for the things White and co. made her do. It's use as intended.

With Spinel, it's special needs. You don't seem to understand this. If you feel no sympathy for Spinel, either you don't feel from fiction (in which case, I admire that, but why are you watching Steven Universe?), or you're heartless. You're like one of my brothers. The one who knows I self-harm, and jokes about it at my expense. Someone who thinks upset people are just "acting" and are "unjustified" - they need to "man up". Fuck off. The central message of this show is that you shouldn't suffer alone, you're worth it and you should love yourself. I've seen some of you say the characters "deserve" their self-hatred. FUCK OFF. You're not helping anyone this way. You might end up driving someone to suicide one day, and that person, I fear, might be me. You make me feel awful for liking these completely innocent and uplifting characters.

One last thing: This show isn't political.

It never says anything about how to handle war, race, religion, economy or crime. Is it that many of the characters are LGBT+? That's not an ideology. People call this show "feminist" and "essjay woowoo", but it never advocates a political system or says anything about "men vs women". LGBT+ is just identity and comfort. Religions, parties and feminist/racial groups feature a set of laws and codes, whereas mental conditions and gender/sexual orientations are purely personal. I, unlike many, perfectly understand non-binary people, because, like hugging a pillow to bed, or having essential oils diffused through your bedroom, it's just something you do for personal comfort. Not an ideology you enforce, or a gross physical habit you perform, just an identity, something you prefer to be called. Why do you give a fuck?

Now, just as I was writing this essay, I discovered that the show was ending in March. Fuck. It was my iron lung. I'm chained to it. I probably would have killed myself due to a severe bout of depression and self-harm about 1.25 years ago, if it wasn't for this show. That's how White Diamond made me feel. Loved. The depressing thing is that everything dies. Either your show dies young, or it lives long enough to become stale. It's like the end of Off. If you side with the Batter, the world ends. If you side with the Judge, the world continues to suffer. It raises the question of what is preferable: oblivion or suffering? This show took the former route. I'm excited, with worm Steven and whatnot, but also dreading it. Petscop, my other favourite show, ended back in November. No more new episodes to think about and overanalyse. Maybe I'll write a fanfic. I have had dreams about SU characters, after all. At least it's not Pokémon, where greed and complacency turn you to shit.

What's next? "Radiohead disbands!". Probably. "Everything ends, broken. Why can't you forget?", they said, in Planet Telex. That's true. Everything, from shows to relationships, ends in either disrepair or death. I just can't cope. I wish I could just not get attached to things. I wish I could distance myself, and not care when they go away or turn bad. I wish I could be the sun, and not care when the stars go out. I don't know what to do. The sky is falling in.

That will be all.

#rant #fuck you all #i'm a piece of shit #purity police #anti-anti

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