#not turn-verse but you can probably pretend it is

[pollywiltse]

Ghost stories are traditional for Christmas, so partly-written ghost stories are appropriate for not-yet-Christmas, right?

Later she thought he had been there since Philadelphia, at least, though she hadn’t realized it. He would have been a timid ghost then, too newly dead to realize that the proprieties of the living no longer applied, and she had mostly kept to her bed, and he had been so much in her mind that if, when she left her room, she had felt him nearby, she would have thought it was her own madness and not his spirit. She thought of him more in those days than she thought of her husband, alive and in New York. They said that he had died bravely, that he had gone to his death with as little fear as he would have gone to a ball, but if she closed her eyes she saw him with the same look as her little son, when he thought they had left him alone in the dark.

The distance between them now was greater than it had ever been before, but now there was a chain that bound them stronger than their boy-and-girl love affair, and, she was afraid, stronger than the gold band that bound her to her husband.

She hadn’t known it was him in New York, in the fall, when every room seemed to shrink and become a prison cell and every footstep was a guard’s and her mind sketched a gallows against the bright blue October sky. Even when someone said - it had been a year since he died - and saw her and fell silent, she hadn’t known.

It was in London when she knew it was him.

”Peggy, look!” She was in her bed alone, and the room was empty. She was in her bed, but she was awake and not dreaming and not mad, and she heard his voice in her ear the way she'd heard it in Philadelphia, not so many years ago, bringing her home from a ball in the small hours - “Peggy, look!” - up at the sky, clear and frozen after a snowfall, the stars bright enough to make shadows on the ground - and his hand was in hers again, tugging, and she followed him to the window, and it was cold bright early morning that made everything clean and the sky was pink and gold and luminous gray and he was there beside her. She couldn’t see him, but she could feel his hand, and she could feel his mind against hers. He was glad and relieved and it was all so beautiful, and she couldn’t be scared until later, that she could hold the hand of a man she couldn’t see, who had been dead for two years.

[darqx]

If you didnt come to party [get the hell out of this club]

In which there's some links to old art - I've been getting a number of asks that are already technically answered so that's just what I'm gonna be doing if i can even remember what RAD they originally came from lol.

❗️For commonly asked qs please see my BTD FAQ

UNFORGIVEN.

Yes he can speak at least two demon languages (commons and a more specialised one).

Not really cos the ichor will eventually disappear if it's not in contact with Rire for a while lol. You ever wonder how someone could mysteriously drown whilst not being around anything they could have drowned in? Yeah.

I have drawn several such instances a long time ago. But it's not really Rire flirting with Ren it's more him being like...subtly condescending to Ren since Ren's submissive level is not very interesting to him |D

I...think you may have possibly mistaken me saying Rire might cry if he was in severe pain to mean that's the only time he could cry XD; To answer your q, yes Rire can cry from emotions - the point is he would choose not to (esp in public) as that would be a weakness.

🤔 You could probably get away with the same dress design but in black, tbh (if it was Lady Rire). Since the outfit design is 1930s/1940s based Rire's equivalent would be like...a 3 piece suit with a long overcoat/trench coat.

Got you covered bro [from a suit meme I did before]

Rire has a very long life span, but he's not immortal XD;

Tbh I don't really have thoughts about any of other peoples headcanons. Like I'm generally quite neutral towards headcanons because I primarily deal with the canon; the extent of my thoughts would be like "hm i wonder how they came up with that" lol.

This is actually in my FAQ :d but good of you to check for permission! If it's your own artwork then yes it is ok to make fanmerch of Rire. Similarly Gato allows fanmerch of her BTD and TPOF characs as long as it's your own art you are selling (and not like, our art/someone else's fanart that they didn't give permission to turn into merch).

It would be in Cain's best interest not to.

Cain is literally saying Olé Olé because i happened to be listening to this song at the time.

I can barely keep up with my ask box as myself let alone do it while pretending to be a charac lol, so no 😅 You can find a bunch of the most common qs in the FAQ pages though.

No and not really - though he is a bit more sensitive to light compared to a human as he has much better night vision than a human. He may also be able to see more colours than humans 🤔

There is technically no "stereotypical" demon in my 'verse, there's a bunch of different species each with their own looks/powers, so if he was another species then he'd have their physical characteristics. Rire's species is considered "plain" because outwardly they can pass more easily as a human than say; Izm's species (who have a really noticeable Glasgow smile-esque mouth as one of their physical features).

Yes he was born a demon...to his demon parents...|D;

He's the king of his sector and his sector is pretty well-to-do, I think you can draw your own conclusions from that lol.

Maybe, depends on what the human in question does with that.

Your second q has two answers depending on what context I answer them in, so I'll reply in the BTD context keeping in mind a charac like EP's Cain :d Basically yes Rire would be able to sense them like he does other demons. It's not a specific sense of "THIS CHARAC IS AN ANGEL" but more like "this charac is not human" and depending on what else he gets from it a "in your best interests to not engage".

Something big with long black fur and yellow eyes, maybe like a Norwegian Forest Cat or a Maine Coon.

[luveline]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

the tension between you and miguel rises to an all-time high —a ficlet featuring a grumpy miguel and a flirty, distracted spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. fem!reader, 1k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel has asked you multiple times to leave him alone while he's working. The strike force can't run itself (or so he claims —Margo and Lyla seem plenty capable, in your eyes) and he needs time and solitude to organise the protection of canon events, and—

"Blah, blah, blah," you say, dropping your voice to a soft, teasing melody as you skirt around his frankly audaciously jacked chest. 

"Don't blah, blah, blah me," Miguel says. You'd be intimidated if you weren't so happy to mess with him. "I'm not kidding around." 

Okay, maybe you are intimidated. That just makes messing with him more fun. 

The room he operates from, as you've so fondly monikered The Office, is in organised chaos, and much too dark. You drag a lone chair toward his control panel and set yourself down in front of all his screens and computers. 

"Ooh," you hum, reaching for an unlabelled switch with a purposeful slowness. 

Predictably, Miguel slams his hand over yours, yanking your chair back with an annoyed, "No." 

"Come on, Miguel. What harm could I possibly do?"

"You could–" 

"Topple the multiverse?" you suggest. "I've heard." 

"You could turn off every member of the Society's DMW. That's what that does. Potentially endangering each of their lives by stranding them in unfamiliar dimensions, and preventing them from correcting canon events." 

You feel bad for teasing him when you see the look on his face, anger and exhaustion and the slimmest allowance of defeat. It must be tough to lead the Spider-Society. Tougher to micromanage more than half of its members. 

Pulling your hand from under his, you cross your arms over your stomach and give him an apologetic frown. "Sorry, Miguel."

Evidence of his sweet spot for you lines his expression, softening his sharp jaw and the stoic set of his brow. It's gone as quick as it came, and his mask falls back into place. He turns away from you as though pretending you aren't there and scans one of his holographic screens, his face glowing with a yellow-orange haze. 

Miguel has to tolerate you, because you're a Spider-Girl. Though you've never called yourself that aloud, and you're not sure anyone else has, either, it's an undeniable truth. You were bitten by a radioactive spider that gave you super mutant abilities, though yours aren't as potent as others. You're not especially strong, you probably couldn't stop a bus with your bare hands, but you're smart. You haven't saved the world or anything, but you lost your Uncle Ben. You paid the toll. 

Every spider person has lost someone. Miguel seems to have lost more than that. 

"You know," you mumble, kicking the ground lightly to make your chair spin on its axle, "I've been thinking…" 

"That's never good." 

"Why do we wear our suits here?" you ask, spinning for a second time, the room moving past your eyes in flashes. "It seems performative." 

"Ah, I can answer that. Some of us work when we're here." 

You wrinkle your nose at his deadpan and kick the floor again, spinning so fast it makes you laugh. "What did you say? I can't hear you from your high horse– woah!" 

Miguel grabs the back of your chair, bringing you to a sudden and firm stop. You blink hoping it'll assuage the dizziness between your eyes, and when it doesn't work you keel forward, muttering, "Woah, I'm gonna die." 

"You won't die." 

"How do you know?" you ask. 

"You're under my watch, aren't you?" 

"I knew you liked me," you say. "Oh, I don't feel well." 

"You brought it on yourself." 

You catch your breath. When you feel okay enough to stand you almost trip, and Miguel doesn't bother pretending that he had any intention of stopping you from landing flat on your face. The you before the spider bite would've wiped out. This you giggles and holds Miguel's elbow for a second while you plant your feet. 

"Okay, boss-man," you ask, looking up at the unnaturally high screen he's investigating. "What are we doing today?" 

"I'm supervising a task force operation on Earth-31913. You're going home." 

"Miguel," you say, not sure if you want to flirt with him or piss him off. He looks incredibly pissed off already, so you choose flirtation. "Have I told you how handsome you look this evening?" 

He doesn't react. His hands don't so much as shift where they're akimbo on his hips. 

"You really have the most handsome eyes," you continue, weaving around his arm to stand in front of him. You have to crane your neck to see them. "Sulky. Do I really have to go home? I'd rather stay here with you." 

He looks down his nose at you. "Yeah?" he asks quietly, his voice rough as hewn stone.

"Yeah," you say, taking a small step back. 

"And do what?" 

You mirror his stance, hands on your hips. Your suit isn't form fitting like his, doesn't showcase nearly so much lean muscle, but you like it. You'd chosen a simple black ensemble to match the spider who bit you with a pinky purple heart over your stomach. Miguel had asked about it once, just once, when you'd first met and he had no idea how much of a problem for him you were going to become. 

Why there? 

Why do you think? you'd asked, giving him a sticky-sweet smile. 

Forget I asked. 

He lifts a hand to your chin, pinching it between two deft fingers. You're lucky he isn't wearing his gloves; his claws would pierce your jaw. 

"What do you want to do?" he asks, again so quietly. "If you stay?" 

"I could help with the task force." 

"That's what you want to do?" 

You flush with heat but refuse to let him know how you're feeling. Your heart bumps against your ribs, breath caught in your throat as he tilts your head up, as he leans down. 

"No," he says near your lips, "that's not it." 

"I could help you?" you offer. 

Something flashes in his eyes. You hesitate to call it lust. It reminds you of a cat with a mouse in it’s clutches, only his pupils are blown, black and inky and wide as dimes. 

"You want to help me?" he asks, his lips an inch, half of that from yours. 

You nod minutely. "Yes," you say under your breath. 

His hand moves to your cheek. He leans in closer and closer, until there's a hair's width of air between his mouth and yours, the tips of your noses bent together. His breath fans over your bottom lip and it's hot. You swear you can feel his heart as his chest presses to yours. He lingers there for an endless handful of seconds, silently egging you on.

You call his bluff and refuse to close the distance. 

Miguel pushes you away from him, far from cruel but certainly not sweet. "I have a tower of paperwork you can file," he says. 

"Here I thought you were finally going to bite my head off," you hum. "You're a sore loser, Miguel." 

"And you're my pest," he says, holding your gaze for a half-second too long. He turns away. "Lyla? Arrange the recounts from the last canon event for Spider-Girl's perusal, please." 

"So you've remembered I'm here?" Lyla asks wryly.

You don't mind the paperwork. You sign each one with a winky face and a pink gel pen heart, knowing Miguel will go over them all again, and knowing he'll grow angrier and angrier with each heart.

He'll kiss you and mean it one day. You just have to play the waiting game.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

[girlgenius1111]

to be worthy.

and impromptu mother's day fic in the sol-verse it's a difficult day. and a weird day. but it's also a day for family, and for people stepping up to take roles they didn't have to. a day for love, really. angst. but also sickeningly fluffy.

You’d never second guessed yourself more than you were in that moment, parked outside the flower shop, watching people enter and exit the building. It was barely 7am, and you had been there for almost a half hour already. Just sitting. Just thinking. 

Mother’s day. It hadn’t ever been your favorite day. No matter what you did or bought or made, your mom was never very happy with you. She didn’t want anything you could give to her. She didn’t even really want you around. She wanted Ingrid with her on the day, and she always made that very clear. 

This year was obviously… very different. Different because you weren’t speaking to your mother, and you didn’t have to get her anything. You didn’t have to write lies down in a card about how much she meant to you, or buy a gift she’d throw out in a few days anyway. You didn’t have to do any of that; there was no pretending this year, and you weren’t really sure what to feel about that. 

It was suddenly a day with no obligations, but then again… not really. Because if anyone in the world deserved to be celebrated it was Ingrid, and it was Mapi. 

Ingrid was your sister. Mapi was your sister's girlfriend. You knew this. It just felt… inexplicably wrong to let the day pass without acknowledging all they had done for you, all they were doing for you. There was no… older-sister-acting-as-your-parental-figure-day. You were left with this sunday in may, a day that already made your heart ache. Now, you were terribly anxious, too. You didn’t want to overstep, nor did you want to… understep? Too little, too much. Not enough.

Logically, you knew that Ingrid and Mapi would probably be completely fine with anything you chose to get them. You weren’t feeling very logical, though, so you grabbed your phone, and called someone you knew would be. 

“Hi älskling,” Frido greeted, suppressing a yawn. It was quite early for her to be answering the phone, but she wasn’t in the business of not answering calls from you. If you were calling, it was important. 

“Frido, does Ingrid like flowers?” You asked, nervously cracking your knuckles. 

“Flowers? Everyone likes flowers, Solstråle. Why?” 

“I just… I wanted to get her and Mapi something, and I don’t know what to get. I don’t want it to be too much or too little, or ugly or stupid or something they don’t like and I don’t want to make them uncomfortable but-”

The words rushed out of your mouth like someone had turned on a faucet, and Frido sighed, now understanding what you were so stressed about. 

“Hey, Solstråle, relax.” She interrupted. “Flowers are good. Ingrid likes daisies I think. And Mapi loves pink roses. It’s not weird, it’s not too much, or too little. They’ll be happy with anything, really. Don’t overthink it.” 

“Right. Okay. Daisies and pink roses. I can do that.” 

“I know today isn’t the easiest for you, but just try to remember-”

“I have to go Frido, sorry. Thank you, I appreciate you.” You said quickly, not really wanting to get into that  at the moment. The Swede sighed, hoping you’d relax a bit as the day went on, and as you got a good reaction to your gift. 

------

Dropping the flowers off at home, along with the cards you’d gotten, and fleeing hadn’t been your best idea in retrospect. The idea of being with them… when they say what you’d gotten for them and when they read their cards… was nauseating. Sickening. Horrifying. You wouldn’t be doing that. 

You set everything up on the counter, grabbed Scout’s leash and Scout himself, and headed out the door, intending to spend the morning at a cafe just down the street. You had your computer and some school work to finish, which seemed like as good of a distraction as any. 

Back home, Ingrid was lying awake in her bed, as she had been for a few hours. It was only when Mapi rolled over into her, her head clunking against Ingrid’s shoulder, that the Norwegian realized it was probably past time to get up. 

“Morning.” Mapi grumbled, pressing a kiss to the skin of her girlfriend’s shoulder. 

“Good morning,” Ingrid replied softly. The single word, dripping with anxiety, was enough for Mapi to lift her head and blink groggily at the other woman. 

“Something wrong?” She asked. 

“It’s mother’s day.” Ingrid whispered, tears inexplicably clouding her vision. Mapi was sitting up in a flash, pulling the younger woman into her chest. Ingrid nuzzled close to the soft t-shirt Mapi was wearing, inhaling the comforting scent of the woman she loved. 

“Mi amor,” Mapi sighed. “I know, it’s a hard one right now. You don’t have to call her, though. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. We can cancel lunch with my mom, stay here with Solstråle. We can pretend it isn’t mothers day.” 

Ingrid shook her head, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. “No, your mom deserves to be celebrated. We’ll go to lunch. I want to give Solstråle some space today, but I’m worried about her. And I don’t want to call my mom. That would be like… betraying my sister. I don’t want to speak to that woman. She doesn't deserve it.”

“Okay.” Mapi agreed, running her fingers through Ingrid’s thick hair. The Norwegian’s eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, and she relaxed into her girlfriend once again. “We’ll keep an eye on our Sol, and we’ll be quick at lunch. And you can have as many hugs as you want.” 

“Can’t I always?” Ingrid asked with a small smile. 

“You have a point.” Mapi chuckled. “I am going to go make you a coffee, be right back.” 

With that, she rose from the bed, pressing a quick kiss to Ingrid’s lips, heading for the kitchen. Ingrid stayed in bed, worrying about you and how you’d act today, until she heard Mapi call out for her in a strangely choked voice. She was out of bed within a second, rushing down the hall towards her girlfriend. 

“What?! What is it?!” Ingrid shouted, sliding in her socks on the wood floor into the kitchen, looking around frantically. 

She saw Mapi first, staring with tears in her eyes at a little card that had the Spaniard’s name on it. She saw the two vases next, sitting precisely in the middle of the counter. One with daisies, one with pink roses. There was a card with Ingrid’s name on it on the counter, too, and it wasn’t hard for Ingrid to connect the dots. Her first concerns were with her girlfriend, though, who’s lip was wobbling dangerously, as she blinked rapidly down at the card in her hand. 

“María?” Ingrid murmured. “Baby, are you-?”

Mapi blindly reached a hand out towards Ingrid, a hand that the Norwegian took. Gently, Ingrid rubbed her girlfriend’s back, reading the card over her shoulder when Mapi tilted it slightly in her direction. 

María,

It’s mother’s day, and it didn’t feel right to let today go by without telling you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You allowed me into your home without a second thought. You met my stubbornness and hostility with love and kindness, and I will forever be grateful to you for that. You love Ingrid so deeply, and I couldn’t wish for a better partner for my sister. I think I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be as good of a person as you are. I hope you like your flowers, and I hope you know how much you mean to me.

Love, Solstråle.

By the time Ingrid had finished reading, Mapi had turned in her arms, burying her face in the crook of Ingrid’s neck, and was sobbing quietly. They were happy tears, Ingrid realized. Emotional, but happy. Ingrid couldn’t do much but hold Mapi tightly to her, and press kisses into the top of her head. 

“She means every word, you know? And she’s right. You are the best person I know, the kindest, the most loving. You deserve the flowers, María.” 

That set off another round of tears, bringing a small laugh out of Ingrid, always astounded and impressed by how emotionally… healthy her girlfriend was. 

“Damn you Engens. Making me cry.” Mapi huffed, using Ingrid’s shirt to wipe her tears away. 

Ingrid took her girlfriend’s face in her hands, carefully kissing her lips. “Because we love you very much.” 

“Cut it out, Ingrid.” Mapi complained, though she was smiling shyly. “Open your card, I want you to cry.” 

Ingrid laughed, reaching for her own card, though she hesitated before opening it. Mapi had moved to get the coffees going, but turned to glance at Ingrid when she fell silent. 

“Open it.” Mapi encouraged, turning away to give Ingrid space to read. 

It was another little card, in your big handwriting, a bit longer than Mapi’s. Ingrid took a deep breath, trying to stave off tears before she even started reading. 

Ingrid,

Mother’s day is weird now. It kind of always has been, but I’m sure it’s weird for you now, too. I hope today isn’t too difficult for you. You are a lot more to me than a sister. I’ve always looked up to you, always seen you as a role model. And I still feel that way. Now, though, you’ve taken me in and been so patient with me. More patient than I deserve. I feel safe here, with you. For the first time in a really long time. Safe and loved, in a way I had kind of forgotten existed. Ingrid, you changed my life. You saved my life, too. I’ve never felt very worthy of love or care, but it’s so readily available here. And if someone as good as you thinks that I am worthy of your love, your time, your attention, then I must be. At least a little bit. There aren’t enough flowers in the world to express how thankful I am for everything you’ve done for me. Thank you Ingrid. Really, just thank you. I love you very much, even if I don’t always show it or say it. 

Love, Solstråle. 

And now Ingrid was crying, and Mapi was abandoning the coffee to pull her into a tight hug, and you were walking in through the front door at just the perfect time. You had just barely unclipped Scout’s harness before you were being forcibly pulled upright into some kind of suffocating group hug.

And normally, something like this would have probably made you uncomfortable. You felt yourself melting into the hug, though, before you really knew what you were doing. Embarrassment flooded you. Regret flooded you. Because even though the hug was nice, you felt dangerously exposed. Dangerously vulnerable. 

------

You insisted that Ingrid and Mapi go to lunch with Mapi’s parents and her brother, without you. Both girls tried to explain, while respecting your privacy as much as possible, why you had stayed home, although Mapi’s mother was rather insistent that she wanted you at lunch, too. You were part of the family, after all. 

It was only when you were home alone, curled up on the couch with Scout, that the reality really hit, that questions you didn’t want to consider really started to flood into your brain. 

Had they really liked the flowers? The cards? There wasn’t much time to talk, as they’d had to get ready for lunch, and both of them had clearly been crying. Maybe… maybe they didn’t really like what you had to say? Maybe you were putting pressure on them to be something they weren’t. It was so easy for you to spiral into self doubt when you were left to your own devices. 

Should you have called your mom? 

No matter how much time passed. No matter how many times Ingrid and Mapi told you that you hadn’t done anything wrong, that she had been the issue. You were pretty sure you’d always blame yourself, at least a little. You’d spent so long thinking you were at fault, and that kind of thinking was hard to break out of. Knowing that you weren’t to blame, and really believing it were two different things. And something was easier about blaming yourself. Safer. 

Maybe you should have called. Maybe you should take the first step. She was your mother, after all, and you only had one. You couldn’t help the guilt that began to suffocate you, the insecurity, the self hatred. 

You wished you could just hear Ingrid and Mapi tell you that they loved you, that you were a good person, and believe it. You were kind of afraid, though, that you’d never fully believe that. 

The best thing to do, the most logical thing, was to shut yourself in your room for the rest of the day. So you took Scout and some snacks and buried yourself under as many blankets as you could, tucked away in your room. A closed door between you, and the avalanche of emotions and feelings you’d let out earlier in your cards. 

Too vulnerable. You’d been too vulnerable, and there was no taking it back, and that was terrifying. Being vulnerable in the first place wasn’t easy, but not wanting to die afterwards was even harder. 

-------

Ingrid and Mapi returned from lunch to find the house dead silent. Your bedroom door was tightly shut, and when Ingrid peaked her head in, you had been pretending to be asleep. So, she headed for the living room, tucking herself into the corner of the couch, thought after thought running through her head. 

Had she been too emotional with you earlier? Had you not really meant what you’d said in your letter? Were you just trying to be nice? Ingrid had learned not to push you before you were ready for something, and she felt like today, she had. She should have played it cooler, not made it as big of a deal. 

And, fuck, she should have called her mom. 

She shouldn’t have, but she should have, and there was no correct answer in her head. Either decision made her feel like she was being bad. A bad daughter or a bad sister. 

And now she was being a bad girlfriend, because Mapi had been trying to get her attention for several minutes, and she’d been too spaced out to notice. 

“Ingrid!” Mapi said again, this time reaching out to grab onto her girlfriend’s hand and squeezing. 

“Sorry, sorry. I was distracted.” Ingrid said. “What?”

“I checked on Sol. She seems upset. You should go up there and talk to her.” 

“No, no, today has been a lot for her, she has to process her emotions.” Ingrid said, shaking her head. “She doesn’t want to see me right now.”

Mapi resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Honestly. The two of you were both hyper aware of the others’ feelings while simultaneously being too afraid to actually talk about said feelings. You needed each other, today, and Mapi was done trying to get you to figure that out yourselves. 

“Enough of this. Vamos.” She stated decisively, standing up from the couch, grabbing Ingrid’s hand and pulling. Ingrid groaned her annoyance, but went somewhat willingly.

Mapi dragged her up the stairs, knocking on your door before entering upon your response. You were still on your bed, trying to hide the evidence of your almost constant tears, when Mapi entered the room with Ingrid in tow. 

“Alright. Both of you need the other right now. Sol, Ingrid isn’t mad at you. Ingrid, Sol isn’t mad at you. Everything is fine. Stop overthinking.” And with that, paired with a small shove to Ingrid’s back, pushing the Norwegian in your direction, Mapi looked between you two expectantly. 

You looked very cautiously, but also somewhat hopefully, up at your sister. 

Ingrid looked at you similarly, taking a hesitant step closer to the bed. “What do you need, Solstråle?” She asked, determined, at least, that you get better about asking for what you needed. If it was space, she'd respect that. And if it was a hug? Well. Good. Because she really needed one too.

You shifted slightly, lifting one of your arms in a half gesture. “Sit with me?” You requested. 

Relief flooded Ingrid’s face as she all but launched herself onto the bed next to you, instantly pulling you into a tight hug. You were relieved, too, that you hadn’t been too much for either of them. That your love in return wasn’t too much. Your mom had always made you feel like it was suffocating, the way you tried to get her to pay attention to you and love you.

Ingrid and Mapi never did that. They just… gave you what you needed, without a second thought. Before anything else. As you sat squished in between the two of them, listening to all the details from the lunch you’d skipped, you realized that all you’d needed today was Ingrid. Being with Ingrid and Mapi made your head go quiet. There wasn’t room for doubt when they were on either side of you. Mapi trying ridiculously hard to make you laugh. Ingrid combing her fingers through your hair without a second thought. 

You fit here, in this family. With them. They told you you fit, that you were wanted, and that was something that was getting more and more believable as time went on. You had a family, and even if you didn’t really have a mother to celebrate today, you had two people who put you before anything else. People that loved you more than your mother had. You had a family, again. And that was really something to celebrate. 

------

:) happy mothers day to everyone who celebrates, and to everyone that doesn't.

however you feel is valid. if today is hard, or if today is easy, there will always be tomorrow, and tomorrow will be even better.

<3

[ihave-atummyache]

the next step

Stray Kids OT8 Imagine

NSFW!!! 18++

summary: your first time going all the way with your boyfriend. you’re no virgin, but he makes you nervous like you are!

2.4k words

a/n: literally made this bc im sick of seeing all these ‘first time with skz’ fics bc im not a virgin so i cant relate |: like I lost my virginity 8 years ago, i dont remember that shit!! i’m too old for that

Bang Chan:

Soooo attentive to you and your body. He gauges every reaction to every touch and takes note of it. Definitely doesn't need to talk much because he can observe your body so well.

It’s relatively quiet besides him praising and complimenting you, worshipping you, cherishing you, the usual.

"Shit, I feel you clenching around me, baby. Feels s’good," Chan grunts out above you and continues to drill into the same spot that had you seeing stars. It's hard to believe that this is the first time the two of you have had sex because he seems to be so well versed to your body and reactions.

His eyes stay on your face. He observes what has your eyes rolling back and your mouth dropping open. He experiments a tiny bit with the speed of his finger on your clit until he feels you clenching down on his cock and more wetness gushing out of you and maintains that same pace.

He even pays attention to certain things outside of the bedroom that come into use later. He notices you playing with his fingers, staring at his hands when he’s typing, tracing the veins on his arms.

His fingers continue to plunge in and out of you, despite having just pulled an orgasm from you moments ago.

“Channie! Please! I’m- I’m- something weird is coming!” and you’re screaming, squirting all over his hand and chest, your back arching off the bed and you’re completely out of breath.

“Fuck, my sweet girl. I’m getting hard again after that. One more round?” He proposes, pushing his boxers back down his thighs as you nod and take a deep breath, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

“But you owe me a nice hot bath after this,” you narrow your eyes at him and he chuckles before leaning forward and slowly sliding into your soaking hole, making you hiss at the overstimulation.

“As long as I can join you, we have a deal,” he places a kiss to your lips before slowly sliding in and out of you.

(yes, the bath led to another round)

Lee Know:

In my head, Minho is such a horndog. I mean, dude IS a scorpio so…

The first time the two of you have sex, I doubt it’s the first time you guys have been intimate at all. He’s definitely found his hand in your pants on more than one occasion and his sex drive starts to rub off on you if it wasn’t already matching his.

You’ve dry humped until he came in his pants and you’ve definitely sucked him off on multiple occasions. It’s like when the two of you get together, you can’t keep your hands off! Your physical chemistry is off the charts! Let’s not sit here and pretend that physical chemistry isn’t as important as emotional chemistry.

The first time you decide to go all the way, like p in v full penetration, he probably starts off slow, sliding in and out of you.

Starting in missionary, his arms cage you in while he brushes stray hairs away from your face. You turn your head to the side and pepper kisses along his hands and wrists, making the moment much more intimate, until he breaks the comfortable silence between the two of you.

“Can I be rougher?” His eyes catch your’s and you can see his ears turning red at the question. He’s obviously holding himself back and as much as you want to tease, you know better. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull his lips to your own for a quick peck before pulling away.

“Ruin me.” you command and that’s all it takes for the animalistic side to come out of your boyfriend. He pulls out and grabs your hip, flipping you to your stomach with ease. Before you have time to adjust, he’s sliding back into you and drilling into you with much more force.

“Fuck. You feel so good,” he groans behind you before his fingers lace into your hair and turns your head to the side, pressing your cheek into you the mattress.

“Look so good under me, kitty. I’ve been imagining this for so long but it doesn’t compare,” he confesses and his thrusts continue mercilessly, punching sounds from your throat that you can’t even begin to control.

Changbin:

I actually think he would be the most nervous of all the boys. Seeing his whole body and he finally gets to see your's is like… next level for him.

Definitely obsessed with you and cums very fast but who can blame him when you look that pretty under him! Super apologetic because he cums early but you really don't mind, you're actually flattered.

You're even more flattered when you lean in to kiss the pout from his lips and he pulls you into his lap, deepening the kiss, his cock already growing hard again.

"You're just too pretty, I can't help myself. You drive me crazy, pretty," He breathes against your lips and you grind down into him, making him get hard impossibly faster.

“You’re so obsessed with me,” you tease and he pulls back, his hands grabbing your hips to guide you against his length.

“Yeah? So what if I am?” He teases back and your laugh gets caught in your throat when the head of his cock rubs against your clit.

“I bet you could cum from just this, couldn’t you?” he asks and your eyes open, looking down at your pretty boyfriend.

“As long as this is the view I get,” you run your hands along his face and shoulder and down his chest and stomach, letting your fingers scratch lightly, until you reach his cock and angle it to sink back down again.

Probably have a lot of cockwarming in the relationship. Desperate little baby just want to be close to you! He’s obsessed and in love, you can’t blame him.

Uses every opportunity he can, he’ll pat his lap and you already know exactly what he wants, making your way over and lifting your pretty little skirt before sinking on his hard cock and leaning back against his chest, continuing to watch the video playing on the television.

Hyunjin:

MUNCH. MUNCH. MUNCH. MUNCH. MUNCH. MUNCH HYUNJIN AGENDA. I dont know what it is about him but he's such a munch. Certified pussy eater™ and mans knows exactly what he is doing!

He goes down on you for as long as you’ll let him. He’s been dreaming of being between your legs and he isn’t coming up for air until you’ve cum at least 3 times.

“J-Jinnie, s-slow down. Fuck. I’m gonna cum again,” your fingers thread into his long hair as your back arches off the bed. He moans against you, his fingers still relentlessly stretching you and his mouth on your clit pushes you over the edge.

You have to practically drag him away to beg him to finally fuck you. He would’ve been perfectly content with having his face between your thighs for the rest of the night.

Because he’s a munch, he definitely knows exactly how to flick your clit to send you flying over the edge around his cock again. Wants to cum on you, his own version of art.

“You’re sucking me in so tight, angel. You’re gonna make me cum,” And with those words out of his mouth, he pulls out and jerks himself off, cumming all over your stomach and abused pussy.

He reaches down and rubs his fingers through the mess before shoving them into your sensitive pussy, making you convulse. He pulls them out before sliding them back in again. You let out a groan, already knowing where his mind has gone.

“Hyunjin-”

“Just one more. Come on, princess. I know you can take it,” and before you know it, his head is back between your legs.

(also ily my bruised cervix queen)

Han:

So desperate and cute. He wants to please you so so bad. Definitely wants you on top! He is such a tits guy (source: just trust me!) and keeps your nipples in his mouth the whole time you're riding him.

Whimpers and whines when you graze your teeth along his neck or pull his hair a little harder than you intended.

"Did you like that?" You freeze on top of him and  he peaks up at you from the pillows. You had accidentally scratched his chest and he let out the hottest moan you had ever heard.

His hand comes down, squeezing your thigh and pushing you to begin riding him again. His other hand find your nipple, toying with it as you slowly begin to ride him again.

"Why wouldn't I? Look at how hot you look on top of me right now. You could slap me and I would probably cum," he confesses and you chuckle, leaning forward so your chests are pressed together.

"We can test that theory another time," you chuckle, pressing your lips to his as he begins to drill up into you.

Despite being a soft and whiny mess, once he gets his shit together, he can switch to dom!han quickly. He isn’t always the pillow princess and I’m an advocate for dom!han okay?!

“Come on, you can arch more than that,” his words are condescending and his hand finds its way between your shoulder blades, pushing your chest further into the bed.

“Good. Atta girl. Take my cock like a good girl now,” and that’s all the warning you get before he’s fucking you like his life depends on it.

You’re loud under him and he loves it. He feeds off your noises, it’s proof that he’s doing a good job making you feel good. It all comes back to him being desperate to please you and make you feel good.

Felix:

I feel like Felix is the type to be just littleeeee frantic. He just wants everything to be perfect! Sweet baby doesn't understand that him just being there makes the whole thing perfect.

He needs reassurance from you! He desperate for your validation in the sweetest way possible. He wants to make sure that you are satisfied before he even begins to think about himself.

"Baby, my love. Calm down. Everything is perfect, I swear," you promise, swinging your leg over his lap and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips.

"I-I just want you to be comfortable. I want you to be sure," He looks up at you, his eyes are already glassy and he's looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

"You make me more comfortable than anything in this world. I promise," You reassure him and thats all it takes for him to press his lips against your's again, “You’re my home,” you whisper against his lips and his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you as close as possible to him.

Definitely making love the first time the two of you are intimate. Missionary and he's telling you how pretty you are and how good you feel. You're on top and you’re sitting face to face, lips all over each other. I just imagine the whole thing being so intimate and sweet.

(definitely the type to burst into tears because he feels so happy. cries when he cums and when you ask why he’s crying, he tells you he loves you for the first time. i love him sm)

Seungmin:

The type to discuss boundaries before hand. Whether he or you are super kinky, it is no surprise, the two of you have thoroughly discussed it already. I view Seungmin as being the quiet but deadly type!! He doesn’t seem like it, but he is a FREAK.

He wants to know exactly what you like and what you don’t like before he ever even touches you intimately. He likes to know what you’re absolutely opposed to and what you’re willing to try or have already tried.

Consent and communication is sexy!!!

“So you’re saying that you don’t mind if I get rough with you? I can degrade you? Praise you? Objectify you? There’s nothing you’re not willing to try?” Seungmin’s words have you crossing your legs and letting out a shaky breath.

“Correct. I trust you. Do whatever you want to me. I’ll let you know if it’s too much,” you encourage him and leans forward, pressing his lips to yours but pulls away after your tongue asks for entrance.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” he replies before pushing you back on the couch and kissing you harshly again. You have him wanting to push your limits, he wants to see just how far you can go.

After a safe word is established, you’re ultimately his little play thing that he can use however he wants which just turns him on more. You’re willing to put your trust in him and he thinks that is insanely hot.

“You look so good like this. All fucked out. How many times have you cum now, slut? Hm?” His voice makes your eyes snap open and you look up at him, clenching when your eyes lock on his.

“Don’t even know how many times you’ve cum already and this desperate cunt still wants more. I’m gonna figure out your limit today, my pretty baby,” he chuckles before he begins to drill into you again, making your eyes snap back shut as another orgasm comes crashing over you.

(spoiler: this is your 6th orgasm!)

I.N:

Oh I.N. Baby bread daddy toast. In the nicest way possible, I imagine he would be much like a horny teenager when he finally gets his paws on you!

It’s all clashing teeth and desperate tongues. You are both chasing oxygen when you pull away, getting light headed from how hard you’re kissing.

Also, we all know he knows about his hands. The way he flaunts them around on live and in pictures and videos… he knows.

Definitely the type to make you look at his fingers plunging in and out of you. Makes a mess of you and makes you watch.

He knows he won’t last long once he finally gets inside of you so he tries his hardest to make you cum at least once before he gets inside of you. Whether it’s with his fingers or his mouth doesn’t really matter to him. Refuses to let you suck him off because he knows that he’ll blow.

“Baby, can I please suck your cock? Your mouth feels so good on me. I wanna return the favor,” you put on your best puppy dog eyes, placing a kiss to the corner of his mouth but he immediately shakes his head.

“In the most manly way possible, I think I’ll bust as soon as you put it in your mouth and I would really prefer to cum in your pussy,” he chuckles, a little embarrassed and you giggle in response before pulling him into you and placing a real kiss to his lips.

“Then what are you waiting for?” You ask, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him against your bare cunt.

Baby (daddy) bread has some sort of alternate persona take him over once he’s inside of you. It becomes even worse when you accidentally let your daddy kink slip.

Jeongin freezes in his tracks and your eyes fly open at the realization of what you just said.

“W-what did you just call me?” His fierce gaze never leaves yours and you swallow thickly before replying.

“D-Daddy. I said harder please, daddy,” you reply and he sits back on his haunches, pushing your knees to either side of your chest before fucking into you like an animal.

“Anything for you, princess. Daddy’s gonna make you a mommy while I’m at it. Hm? How does that sound?” His voice is hoarse and you’re all moans, barely able to make out what he’s saying.

“Yes. Please, daddy. Please cum in me,” you’re begging for his cum, barely even conscious and he’s granting you your wish in an instant.

[koiiiji]

windbreaker & lookism x tall girlfriend

author’s note ; this is for my tall baddies here<33

here is small yapp if u let me... i got this idea when i tried platform heels, and practically, i would be same height with biggest part of lookism and wd verse. idk when it started, but sometimes it so pleasant to look down on men

starring ; Jonggun, Jungoo, Jinseong, Sangho + honorable mention

Jonggun : he might be confident, but he’s also meticulous and has a streak of perfectionism. the idea of being even slightly shorter than you — while (not) a blow to his ego — would probably nudge at his desire to maintain balance.

╌──═❁═──╌

Jonggun leaned back in his chair, his sharp eyes scanning you from head to toe as you adjusted your heels. with them on, you were just a centimeter taller than him — a barely noticeable difference. barely.

you turned to him with a playful grin. “what do you think?”

his gaze lingered for a moment, and then he stood up. “not bad,” he said, his tone casual, but you caught the slight tilt of his head as he measured the new height difference between you.

“‘not bad’?” you teased, leaning closer. “you’re not used to me towering over you, are you?”

Jonggun gave a low chuckle, his lips quirking into a smirk. “you’re not towering.”

“mm, maybe just a little?” you teased, standing straighter to emphasize the difference.

without missing a beat, he stepped past you and opened his closet. you raised an eyebrow, watching as he pulled out a pair of sleek black shoes with a slightly higher heel than the ones he was wearing.

“wait… are you —”

he slid the shoes on effortlessly, straightened up, and stepped back toward you. now, you were exactly the same height again.

“there,” he said, his tone calm and self-assured as always. “perfect.”

you stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. “you really couldn’t let me have that 1cm, could you?”

Jonggun gave you a look, one that was equal parts amused and smug. “it’s not about that,” he said, adjusting his cufflinks. “i just prefer things balanced.”

“sure you do,” you said, grinning as you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “whatever helps you sleep at night, mr. perfectionist.”

he didn’t respond right away, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

as the two of you walked out the door, perfectly matched in height, Jonggun glanced down at you. “you can wear the heels whenever you want,” he said, his tone soft but firm. “just don’t expect me to let you be taller.”

Jungoo : height difference spirals into a over-the-top battle of egos, complete with dramatic gestures, exaggerated complaints, and Jungoo's insistence on finding chunkier shoes to reclaim his "rightful" height advantage after you dare to say “what honey? feel threatened??😘”

╌──═❁═──╌

you stepped into the room, your heels clicking loudly against the floor. Jungoo, who had been lounging on the couch, looked up lazily. the second he saw you, his eyes widened, and his jaw dropped.

“whoa, hold on!” he exclaimed, scrambling to his feet. his usual chaotic energy flared as he pointed dramatically at your heels. “what’s this? i thought we just about to go to groceries store!”

нou smirked, walking right up to him so the height difference was unmistakable. “what’s wrong, honey?” you teased, tilting your head down to meet his gaze. “feel threatened?”

his reaction was instant and theatrical. “threatened?!” he squawked, pointing at himself like you’d just insulted his entire existence. “ME?! Jungoo?! are you kidding?!” he stomped around in an exaggerated circle, gesturing wildly.

“you do seem a little flustered,” you said, your grin widening as you leaned in closer.

he suddenly stopped, spinning back to face you with his hands on his hips. “flustered?!” he threw his head back, pretending to laugh like a cartoon villain. “ha! good one! like some fancy shoes could EVER make me feel small!”

“then why are you standing on your tiptoes?” you asked sweetly, glancing down at his feet.

he froze mid-laugh, quickly dropping back to flat ground and crossing his arms like nothing happened. “i wasn’t doing that,” he said, looking anywhere but at you.

“oh, sure,” you replied, leaning down just a little to emphasize your new height advantage. “no intimidation here, huh?”

that was it. Jungoo couldn’t take it anymore. with a dramatic yell, he went to his sneakers, grabbed the chunkiest pair he could find, and jammed them onto his feet. when he returned, he was now exactly level with you, and he puffed out his chest like he’d just won a war.

“see?” he said triumphantly. “back to normal. nothing to worry about. who’s taller now?”

you raised an eyebrow, biting back a laugh. “still me by like half a centimeter.”

“WHAT?!” he shouted, looking down at his shoes like they had betrayed him. “this is rigged! your heels are cheating! it have extra platform!!”

“relax, it’s just shoes,” you said, patting his cheek playfully. “what’s the big deal?”

Jungoo narrowed his eyes, leaning forward until your noses were practically touching. “the big deal,” he said dramatically, “is that I’m supposed to be the tall, intimidating one in this relationship. not you.”

you snorted, trying not to laugh at how seriously he was taking it. “aw, poor baby. want me to take them off so you can feel better?”

“NO!” he barked, throwing an arm around your shoulders and dragging you closer. “you’re walking out of here just like that, and i’ll deal with it. but if anyone says something, i’m blaming you!”

as the two of you left the room, you could hear him muttering under his breath about “heels being unfair” and “height doesn’t matter anyway,” but the hand on your shoulder stayed firm, his grip warm and reassuring even as he pouted.

Jinseong : imagine be naturally taller than him? i mean even without heels, few centimeters taller. sexy!!! Jinseong think so to! he is super proud, pulling something like “yeah, (insert selebriti) is also shorter than his wife and???”.

╌──═❁═──╌

Jinseong couldn’t have been prouder of you. walking through the school halls with your tall frame beside him made him feel like he was showing off — not in an obnoxious way, but in the “yeah, that’s my girl” kind of way. he loved the way you carried yourself, your height giving you an aura of confidence and strength that had heads turning everywhere you went.

during lunch, Jinseong would slide into the seat across from you and immediately find a way to hype you up. “i swear, you could be a model. you’ve got that whole runway vibe going on.” his words were always delivered with that signature, almost cocky grin, but there was no mistaking the genuine admiration behind them.

at first, you thought your height might bother him, but Jinseong quickly put those worries to rest. whether it was cracking jokes about how he was “just letting you reach the high shelves” or how he wrap an arm around your waist with ease, he made it clear he loved every inch of you — literally.

but, of course, not everyone knew when to keep their mouths shut. like Jin Hobin.

one day, the two of you were hanging out near the school gym when Hobin sauntered over with his trademark smug grin. “yo, loser!” he called, pushing up his sunglasses as he looked between you and Jinseong. “how’s it feel dating a human skyscraper? do you have to take an elevator to kiss her or what?”

you rolled your eyes, but before you could even respond, Jinseong was already stepping forward, his jaw clenched and his fists tightening. “watch your mouth, four eyed,” he warned, his voice steady but full of irritation.

Hobin laughed, clearly enjoying himself. “chill, dumbass! i’m just saying — she’s got you looking like her little sidekick.”

that was it. Jinseong took another step toward him, his shoulders squared. “say that again, and i’ll put you through the wall. right here, right now.”

behind the glasses Hobin rolled his eyes and waved his hands in mock neglecting, backing up a little but still smirking. “alright, alright! geez, can’t take a joke, can you?”

“my patience for your bastards jokes runs out when it’s about her,” Jinseong snapped back.

as Hobin walked off, muttering something under his breath, Jinseong turned back to you, his expression softening immediately. “don’t listen to that idiot,” he said firmly. “you’re amazing, and if anyone doesn’t see that, they’re just jealous.”

you couldn’t help but laugh, teasing him about how quick he was to get worked up. “Jinjin, you know, i can handle Hobin on my own if it comes down to it,” you said with a grin.

Jinseong leaned against the gym door, crossing his arms with a smug look. “oh, i know you can. but no one gets to talk about you like that while i’m around. especially that bastard.”

his protective side might’ve been a little over the top, but deep down, it made you feel cared for. with Jingseong by your side, it didn’t matter what anyone said — he made sure you always knew just how proud he was to be with you.

Sangho : just like Jonggun — will never show it but he and his ego are threatened.

╌──═❁═──╌

it had been a long day at work for both of you, but when you decided to swing by Sangho’s office unannounced, you hadn’t given much thought to your appearance. after all, you’d been rushing from your own job and hadn’t even had time to change out of your business attire, complete with a pair of sleek heels that added a few extra centimetres to your height.

when you stepped into the office, Sangho looked up from the stack of papers on his desk. at first, his expression was neutral, the calm and collected look he always carried. but as his gaze traveled up to meet yours, lingering for a moment longer than usual, something in his demeanor shifted.

“you’re here,” he said, his voice steady but his tone betraying a hint of surprise. He set his pen down, leaning back in his chair as his eyes flicked briefly to your heels.

“sorry to drop by like this,” you said, stepping further into the room. “i figured i’d surprise you on my way home.”

Sangho’s lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. “it’s not a problem.”

you were about to say more, but the way his gaze lingered — just a little longer than usual — made you pause. It wasn’t like Sangho to stare, and yet, there he was, his eyes fixed on you with a quiet intensity that made you feel like you were the only person in the world.

“what?” you asked, a nervous laugh escaping as you glanced down at yourself. “is something wrong?”

“no,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “you just… look different today.”

you raised an eyebrow, your hands instinctively crossing on ypur chest. “different how?”

he hesitated for a moment, clearly choosing his words carefully. “taller,” he finally said, a slight upward quirk of his lips betraying the amusement he felt at his own observation. “the heels suit you. you look fine”

but fine wasn’t quite the right word, and Sangho knew it. in truth, you looked striking. the extra height the heels gave you accentuated your already commanding presence, and he couldn’t help but notice how, for once, you stood on level with him. that fact tugged at something unspoken in him — a subtle unease he would never admit aloud.

it wasn’t jealousy, exactly. he admired you, respected you. but the small, instinctual part of him — the one tied to his ego and the quiet pride he carried in his own stature and presence — bristled ever so slightly.

“you’re staring,” you pointed out, your tone teasing but light.

he straightened in his seat, immediately looking back at the papers on his desk as if dismissing the comment. “i was just surprised. you don’t usually wear heels.”

“do you not like it?” you asked, a faint smirk on your lips.

Sangho paused, his expression unreadable as he weighed his response. “it’s… different,” he said finally, his voice clipped but careful.

you raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you stood just a little taller in front of him. “different good or different bad?”

he glanced up at you, his dark eyes sharp but unwavering. “it doesn’t matter. it suits you,” he said, the words cool but deliberate.

despite the neutrality in his tone, you couldn’t help but feel the subtle warmth of the compliment in your heart. it was rare for Sangho to say anything like that, and even though he delivered it with his usual coldness, you knew him well enough to hear the truth behind it.

“you know,” you teased lightly, stepping closer, “you could just say you like it without sounding so stiff.”

his gaze flickered for a moment — an almost imperceptible shift — but he didn’t respond, instead leaning back in his chair as if to reestablish his calm. “i already said it suits you. that should be enough.”

you rolled your eyes but smiled, leaning down slightly so you were closer to his level. “fine. i’ll take that as a win.”

he held your gaze for a moment, his expression cool and controlled. but beneath the surface, his thoughts churned — how your presence filled the room in a way that challenged him, how it unsettled something in him he couldn’t quite name. still, despite the slight sting to his pride, there was no denying the admiration he felt for you, even if he’d never openly admit it.

as you pulled back and moved to sit on the edge of his desk, he let out a soft, almost inaudible sigh, turning his attention back to his work. but not before stealing one last glance at you, his lips pressing into a firm line as he imagined not so pure and proper thoughts about you on his table.

HONORABLE MENTION :

Taesoo

╌──═❁═──╌

the night on the mountain was peaceful, the cool air slipping in through the cracked window and carrying with it the earthy scent of the surrounding trees. bedroom was dimly lit by the soft glow of the moon filtering through the curtains, casting silver streaks across the wooden floor and bed.

Taesoo was already lying there, his broad frame stretched out on the mattress, the sheets pulled just up to his waist. he was bare-chested, his toned muscles catching the faint moon light and fireplace, as he lay with both arms resting under his head, his gaze following your every move.

you were across the room, fussing with small tasks — closing drawers, tidying up a few stray items — but Taesoo wasn’t paying attention to anything except you. his oversized sweater you wore, barely reached your hips, sleeves were rolled up awkwardly, but you didn’t seem to mind. you were busy tugging at the hem, trying to smooth it down as you moved.

perfect view on your beautiful, long legs.

“are you going to keep pacing, or are you coming to bed?” his deep voice cut through the quiet, calm but laced with something that made your heart warm.

you turned to look at him, catching the way his eyes lingered on you. the weight of his gaze made your breath hitch, though you tried to play it off with a smirk. “maybe i like making you wait,” you teased, your tone light but your heart beating faster under his attention.

Taesoo’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “you don’t need to. you already have my full attention.”

your cheeks flushed at the simple yet pointed statement. taking a breath, you made your way to the bed, the creak of the wooden floor beneath your feet the only sound in the room. his eyes never left you, following every step until you sat down on the edge of the mattress.

“you’re staring again,” you murmured, your voice softer now as you turned your head to meet his gaze.

“can’t help it,” he admitted without hesitation, his hands reaching out to hug you from behind. his touch was warm, steady, the weight of his palm grounding you and his hot, soft murmur on your throat make goosebumps run down your spine. “you’re beautiful.”

“beautiful?” you asked, your tone laced with humor as you leaned against his broad chest. “coming from you? that’s a rare.”

his thumb brushed over your leg, the motion slow and deliberate. “you’re beautiful. the way you carry yourself — it’s strong, confident.” he paused, his voice dipping lower. “it’s hard not to admire.”

the compliment, rare and sincere, sent a warmth spreading through your chest. you leaned closer, your hand brushing against his as you smiled. “you don’t say much, but when you do…”

Taesoo smirked faintly, his eyes half-lidded as he shifted, sitting up slightly to hug you tighter. “do i need to say more?”

his words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and for a moment, the only sound was the soft rustle of the sheets as he pulled you gently toward him, tipping both of you back into bed. the cool mountain air outside was a sharp contrast to the warmth between you.

“you’re impossible,” you whispered, but there was no denying the way your heart raced under his touch.

“and yet, you’re still here,” he murmured, his voice low and steady as he leaned in, his forehead brushing against yours, his hand still resting firmly on your thigh.

in the quiet of the mountain night, everything else faded away — the chill in the air, the sound of the wind outside — leaving only the steady warmth of Taesoo’s presence and the way he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

Jinrang

╌──═❁═──╌

heavy gates creaked open, revealing Jinrang standing there, calm and composed, as if he hadn’t just spent years behind bars. his usual sharp gaze swept over the crowd waiting for him — his people, the ones who’d stuck by him. and then there was you, practically bouncing on your toes, eyes sparkling as you waved enthusiastically.

“Jinrang!” you called, breaking through the group as if they weren’t even there.

he stepped forward, his movements slow and deliberate, his expression as unreadable as ever. you didn’t care. the moment you were close enough, you threw your arms around him, clutching his neck tight.

“you’re finally out!” you exclaimed, leaning back to look up at him, your face lit up with pure joy. “i missed you so much!”

Jinrang’s arms came up, resting lightly around you, his fingers brushing your back. his lips twitched, a subtle hint of a smile breaking his usually stoic demeanor.

“i’m here now,” he said, his voice low and even, but there was a warmth in his eyes that only you could bring out.

you stepped back slightly, grinning as you looked him up and down. “and looking good as ever,” you teased, standing straighter to show off the new heels you’d bought. “what do you think? i’m closer to your height now!”

he raised an eyebrow, giving you a slow once-over before meeting your gaze again. “still shorter,” he said simply, but the faint smirk pulling at his lips betrayed his amusement.

you huffed, crossing your arms. “barely!”

“doesn’t matter,” he replied, his tone calm but firm. “you’re here.”

your teasing stopped for a moment as his words sank in, your chest tightening at the quiet sincerity behind them.

“of course, i’m here,” you said softly, reaching out to take him by the arm. “where else would i be?”

he squeezed your hand lightly, as your arm hugged his biceps, his expression steady but his grip saying everything his calm demeanor wouldn’t. for Jinrang, as long as he was out, as long as you were by his side, the rest didn’t matter.

“let’s go,” he said, nodding toward the car. “they’re waiting.”

as the two of you walked toward his people, your hand still in his, you couldn’t help but notice the way his thumb brushed against yours — a small, quiet gesture that spoke louder than words.

╌──═❁═──╌

MASTERLIST MASTERLIST

[spicycinnabun]

another ficlet from the same verse as i’m sorry, christofern 🪴

~

Eddie unbuttoned the top two buttons of his dress shirt. He couldn’t breathe. The waiter was sneering down at him—at his piercings, tattoos, fingernails blackened with polish and chipping. He didn’t belong at this fine establishment, and it was noticeable to everyone.

The piano man was going to town playing a Beethoven Sonata near their table, and Eddie was this close to shoving him off the bench and showing him how to play some real fucking music.

But Steve was also sitting across from him, looking suave with his hair combed back like an old Hollywood movie star. He was beaming at Eddie, and Eddie was helpless to it.

Even if the menu was giving him a goddamn heart attack, and he was trying not to keel over behind it as Steve ordered the lobster bisque—to start.

Eddie ordered the garden salad.

Steve gave him a weird look. “You sure that's what you want? I thought you didn't like salad.”

“I’m sure,” Eddie said. The salad wouldn't demolish his wallet like any of the things that actually sounded good. “I’m turning over a new leaf. Eating healthier.”

“Uh-huh. You’re already as skinny as a string bean. I don't think you need to eat healthier. You probably need to eat more."

“No can do. I’ve become a slut for vegetables.” Eddie grinned. It was maniacal. “Can't resist a big, juicy cucumber in my mouth.”

The waiter left, looking deeply disturbed, and Steve kicked him under the table, blushing. “Eddie! Jesus.”

“What? Can't a man freely express his joy for deepthroating gourds?”

Steve choked on his water, putting the glass down hastily as he coughed. “You’re such a…” He didn't finish that sentence, but Eddie could fill in the blank.

💚🌱🌿💚

Their first course came, and Eddie pretended to like his salad.

“Yeah, you really look like you're into that,” Steve said, stirring his soup.

Eddie swallowed hard. “It’s absolutely succulent, Steven, thank you.”

He absolutely hated it. The slimy vinaigrette, too.

“Oh, man. Look at that string of pearls,” Steve said, letting it go as he pointed over Eddie’s shoulder. “I’d like one of those.”

Usually, Eddie was the one lacking manners. “Kinda rude to point at people, baby.”

Also, pearls? Eddie was going to be in the red right after this dinner. He hoped Steve wasn’t expecting those any time soon.

Steve laughed, dropping his hand on the table. “No, I’m not. Look.”

Eddie turned in his chair, then groaned in realization when he saw what was hanging from the ceiling.

Steve wasn’t pointing at some woman wearing a pearl necklace. He was geeking out over a fucking plant. Even in public, he was a devoted plant daddy.

“We can get you one of those,” Eddie told him. Steve wanted a pearl plant? Done.

Steve leaned back in his seat, assessing him with his warm brown gaze. Eddie tried not to squirm. “What?”

“You don't like it here.”

Eddie balked. “I like it fine—” he started, then deflated a little under Steve’s skeptical eyebrow quirk. “Okay, I don't like it here. But you do, right?”

“It actually kinda reminds me of my parents.” Steve’s nose wrinkled. “I just wanted to have a good time with you and treat you to something special, but it backfired on me.”

Oh. Hell.

“Hey, it didn't backfire, sweetheart,” Eddie told him, voice low. His hand twitched. He wanted to reach across the table for Steve’s but knew he couldn’t—especially not here. Here, they were no more than friends.

“You wanna ditch and go get a pizza?” Steve asked, nails scratching along the crisp white tablecloth like he was thinking the same thing. “We can catch the next creature feature at the drive-in. Eat on the hood of my car?”

Eddie sighed, feeling his entire self relax. “Oh fuck yes, please. Let’s go.”

They grinned at each other and got up, slinging on their coats. They paid for their half-eaten meals. Neither of them tipped the snooty waiter.

Steve caught his hand in the parking lot as they walked to his car. It was risky, but the walk was less than a minute. They linked fingers.

[bowie-boy]

what about your trans Wilson headcanons pretty please? 👀👀

An excuse to talk about my beloved, trans Wilson…this is an amazing day

(Def me projecting but) Wilson was one of those kids who always knew. Growing up with two brothers, he didn’t really get as a kid that he was different from them and got confused when his parents treated him differently

His first early sign of being trans was when he tried to pee standing up and pissed all over the floor (he assumed he would just grow a penis as he got older) (also me projecting dw abt it)

Once he realized he was technically “a girl,” he went along with it but never really felt connected to being female at all, which led to him feeling really displaced and unattached to people around him all the time

He found out that being a trans dude was a thing sometime in undergrad from one of those 80s talk shows and felt like the world exploded beneath him

Definitely went through an extensive questioning period (even though he definitely knew he was trans) where he would make really long lists of reasons why he was trans, why he couldn’t be trans, pros, cons, etc. and mull over them excessively because he was terrified of making a mistake (me projecting bc OCD Wilson is real and true to me but that’s another post)

Part of this phase involved going to gay bars and finding trans people and basically giving them the verbal equivalent of an “Am I really trans?” Reddit post until they told him he probably was and to stfu

Wilson came out and started transitioning between undergrad and grad

His parents weren’t super accepting at first and didn’t offer to help him pay for anything, nor did they gender him correctly at all, which took top surgery off the table for a long time

The only family member of Wilson’s that was accepting from the get-go was Danny (sad)

Wilson always looked pretty masc so once he started T he passed easily almost immediately but even to this day he’s still paranoid to no end that people somehow Know he’s not cis

Wilson really leaned into dating women once he started transitioning (he’d fooled around with people of both genders in the past while extremely drunk but dysphoria had pretty much taken any kind of sexuality exploration off the table for him)

Got married to Sam way too fast bc he assumed no one else would ever accept him for being trans (Sam’s version of acceptance was like. Never bringing it up)

In my perfect beautiful T4T hilson world, House was Wilson’s first ever trans friend and was his connect for getting top surgery

In an equally real world, Wilson being trans was the one personal detail House never found out until Wilson revealed it at some point in small waves purely to drive House insane

Stealing from @occultbooks but Wilson’s McGill sweater is 1000% his dysphoria sweater

Wilson and Chase go so many years at PPTH with no idea that the other is trans

Wilson’s comphet goes crazy until at some point post season one when his doctor ups his T dose and his sex drive gets completely thrown out of wack and he starts being attracted to House in a way he cannot ignore

Wilson learns from the Internet that starting testosterone can make you gayer and briefly considers dialing his dose back but the dysphoria is too strong so he decides to accept it as a “side effect”

Anyway eventually he realizes he was gay along and is just lowkey super repressed and maybe a little stupid

Amber never made Wilson feel awful about being trans from the get-go and was so supportive and curious and interested and that’s part of why Wilson loved her so so much

In non-T4T-verse, House pretends to be a chaser and is like wow Wilson it’s so hot that you’re trans it turns me on but actually he’s just hiding from vulnerability bc he really is just obsessed with Wilson and his body no matter what

Wilson is always afraid that his STP looks like a boner in his pants and House takes advantage of this paranoia by making as many jokes about it as possible bc he’s evil

Wilson never got a hysterectomy bc expensive but he still gets insanely awful cramps once a month that sometimes suck so bad he needs to stay home from work (this makes him hella dysphoric)

Wilson doesn’t like his top surgery scars but House thinks they’re the hottest thing ever which Wilson uses to make House feel better abt his leg scar

Wilson’s guilty pleasure is man spreading to a horrendous degree bc it helps his dysphoria a fuck ton

The reason why he wears those old man matching pajama sets is because that was his ultimate transition goal as a kid

On really bad days House does Wilson’s T shot for him (the catch is that House insists on doing the shot in Wilson’s ass)

This lowkey got extremely long my apologies but I could actually talk abt this forever

[slayfics]

If you don’t mind me dropping a request for Katsuki headcanons then here I am…

(I know I’m in a whole other famdom right now and I don’t even simp for Bakugo (he’s yours he’s yours, I got a dif man 😉) but I’m bored and this is just an idea)

So.. what if Bakugo was dating a y/n that was just as much of an idiot as Kaminari 😥

If you haven’t done this already -

Katsuki dating a silly reader.

700 words~

Katsuki pretends to be annoyed by your air headedness but actually finds it adorable. He feels responsible for watching out for you.

He is quick to tell off anyone who insults you.

He secretly loves that you get along well with his friends.

However, he is insecure about the way Kirishima and Kaminari can have you rolling in laughter effortlessly. He won't ever mention it but it's apparent by the pout he has any time you're laughing at Kaminari's newest joke.

He loves the way you can cut through his seriousness and bring whimsy to his life. He doesn't know what he'd do without you. Heck, probably never smile again.

He is quick to catch you with any mistakes you make, albeit he scolds you for it.

He is overly tough with you when you spar, but it's only because he wants you to be as strong as you can be to take out any villains you face.

Katsuki's friends are constantly blown away by the things you get him to agree to do. Shopping at a dumb mall? Fine, he'll hold your bags. Going to an amusement park with way too many screaming kids? "Fine- if you really want to go." Singing along to a cheesy ass song? Mmm maybe, don't press your luck too far...

You brought back your food and sat at the outside table of the sports bar rejoining the boys. Music played as different sports ball games played on the various screens outside.

"Tch- why'd you two choose this place anyway? None of us give a damn about these games," Katsuki said huffing and gesturing to the TVs.

"It's the only place that's in the middle of all our places," Denki explained, as you began to take bites of your food.

"Mmm I guess- the food is shit though," Katsuki continued to complain but took a bite of his food all the same.

The song changed to an easily recognizable tune: Total Eclipse of the Heart by Bonnie Tyler. Your and Eijiro's eyes immediately locked. The first verse synced up between the both of you as you sang.

Turn around~

Every now and then I get a little bit lonely

And you're never coming 'round

"No, stop." Katsuki huffed at you both beginning to sing. However, Katsuki's annoyance was only met with Denki joining in on the next verse.

Turn around~

Every now and then I get a little bit tired

Of listening to the sound of my tears

"Are you kidding me," Katsuki complained hiding his face in his hand. Which let Hanta know it was his turn to chime in. The four of you now had a choir.

Turn around~

Every now and then I get a little bit nervous

That the best of all the years have gone by

You three continued to sing increasing your enthusiasm with each lyric. Feeding off one another's enthusiasm.

Turn around, bright eyes~

Every now and then I fall apart

"Come on Bakugo, you know this song," Denki said nudging him during the instrumental part of the song.

"Hell no you're out of your mind!" Katsuki yelled. "Shut the hell up you four- you're making a scene."

"Awe~ Come on Kats~" You encouraged him. "You gotta do the next part with us!"

Katsuki eyed you irritated as Eijiro swayed back and forth in his seat matching Denki's dance movements.

You and the boys began singing back as the lyrics picked up again. This time, even louder and more enthusiastic than before.

And I need you now tonight

And I need you more than ever

And if you hold only hold me tight

We'll be holding on forever.

Then to all your surprise, Katsuki chimed into the last verse with you all.

I really need you tonight

Forever's gonna start tonight

Katsuki talked out, his version of singing, while you four sang as loud as ever.

"Let's go Kacchan," Denki laughed clapping his hands together in excitement.

"Awe so cute- you'd do anything they asked," Eijiro said with a giggle earning himself a bark from Katsuki.

"SHUT UP SHITTY HAIR!"

tags: @queenpiranhadon @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @i-heart-carlisle @derangedmango @matchat3a @bakugouswaif @reneinii @zanarkandskylines @pastelbakugou @abadbitchblogs

[lsunstreakerl]

little darkbull carlos and max snippet! 800-900 words, kind of fluffy, all things considered.

Hi! still darkbull verse. mature content implied and all that.

Carlos is trying to review onboards at the factory when Max comes back in, strolls right across the floor and settles on top of him on the couch. There's no hesitation in it anymore- maybe there was when they were a bit younger, and Max still had Jos' voice in his head, slimy and oil slick, telling him what not to do.

Carlos doesn't really think about that Max too much. He's much different from the current Max, who's winding their legs together and propping his chin onto Carlos's chest, blue eyes blinking at him.

He gives up on the onboard review, settles the tablet down on the floor as he runs his hands down Max's back, fingers tracing the ridges of his spine.

"I thought you were with Danny?"

Max hums, bringing one hand up to carefully curl Carlos's hair around his fingers.

"I was. But he is stressed about next weekend, and I did not want him to have to pretend to feel better around me."

Carlos hums, twisting his head to kiss the inside of Max's wrist, just above the bracelets. He's more observant than he lets on, Max.

Painfully oblivious about the real reason, sure, but not stupid. He's clearly picked up on the fact that Daniel tries not to show stress around him- around either of them, really- but he's attributing it to the wrong thing.

Carlos knows Daniel is stressed because they're doing well this season. They're doing well, and they're riding the high, the whole team is, but-

They'll have to come down eventually. Max will be upset, when it inevitably happens. Daniel and Carlos have a responsibility to try and mitigate that damage.

There's a folded piece of paper in Carlos's dresser drawer, his own loopy cursive and Daniel's rough scrawl, passed back and forth and folded so many times that parts of it are illegible now.

It's their list of things Max likes. What pulls him out of a funk, what he does to let off steam, what they can do to him that turns him into liquid between them, sweet and melted and soft.

Carlos runs his thumb along the inside of Max's wrist. The decoy tracker is embedded there, a slight bump that Max thinks is a weird bone spur. It's not the actual tracker- he has one nestled next to his spine and another tucked deep into his ankle- but it still gives a signal and a heart rate. Enough to be convincing, if it got closely inspected.

Some might think Redbull is stupid, putting one so obviously in the wrist, but Redbull has a bit of a partier reputation- it's believable that it's the only tracker they have.

Nobody would expect the redundancies, even if they should- Max is Redbull's prized possession. They would never compromise his safety.

He breaths out a soft laugh.

'Never'- except for when Max is in the car. Carlos half wonders if they'll ever pull him out of it, tell him he can't drive anymore.

He wonders if Max is in too deep to notice.

He wonders if Max is in too deep to care.

Max presses a kiss to his jaw before tucking his head into Carlos's shoulder.

"Something funny?"

Carlos presses his fingers a little further into the dip of Max's back, applies pressure the way he knows he likes as Max goes liquid on top of him with a soft sigh.

"Just thinking about Danny. You know how he is."

Max hums, lips pressed into Carlos's skin. They're getting chapped again- he needs to get him more lip balm. Max doesn't believe in it- thinks it's stupid- but he'll sit still for Daniel if he asks, will patiently let Daniel press it into his lips until they're soft and shiny.

Probably because he knows he'll get kisses from them both out of it.

"I wish I could just tell him to stop worrying. The team is doing well, it will of course be okay."

Carlos rests his chin in Max's hair. He'll need to talk to Daniel sometime tonight, after Max has fallen asleep. Figure something out to sooth the anxiety. They've got a break coming up soon, and Max will go with GP and his family, so things need to be good when he leaves.

If GP gets even a hint of dissatisfaction from Max-

Carlos puts the thought out of his mind. Max isn't acting dissatisfied right now- just concerned. He's being sweet.

"He'll be alright, just needs to have some time to think it through. I'm glad you came to me."

Max hums again, but it's softer already, half dozing.

"Read to me."

Carlos feels his mouth twitch up involuntarily into a soft smile. Max likes to fall asleep like that sometimes, with Carlos reading one of his novels out loud.

It's definitely the accent thing- Max has a preference for it.

He lowers one hand to feel around underneath the couch. Pack of gum, condom wrapper, gun, Xbox controller- there.

He pulls the book out with his fingertips, patting it against the side of the couch a few times in case there's any dust on it before flipping it open, holding it in one hand while the other moves over Max's spine in slow strokes.

Max shifts a bit before falling still again.

Carlos begins to read.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

hii! so happy for you and your 500! ^_^

i really loved how you wrote isagi! could i request something like listening to music and sharing earphones with him? and while he's commenting about the music reader told him to listen, reader finds herself staring at him. and maybe isagi's friends are secretly filming them bc of how cringey (lovingly) their relationship are HSHS feel free to ignore, thank youu!!

── READ IT AND WEEP!

Synopsis: You and your boyfriend listen to some music together, while an unlikely trio of strikers watches in disgust/fascination/apathy at the scene before them.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Isagi x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 1.8k

Content Warnings: fluffy to a corny extent tbh but it’s okay it’s cute, chigiri and bachira are dumbasses (affectionate), nagi is an unwilling accomplice, karasu converts nagi into a subway surfers kid offscreen

A/N: anonnnn i’m so glad to hear you liked pathways isagi!! and tysm for the congrats 💖 i hope you didn’t think i ignored this, i’m sorry it took me a bit to get to! i did incorporate your suggestion at the end hehe i love a good opportunity to write shenanigans…i wasn’t sure which characters to pick but for some reason the three i chose were calling to me HAHA they just felt like they would be the ones to do smth like that!!

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

“It reminds me of you,” you explained as Isagi made a face at the bright pink album cover of the song you were trying to convince him to listen to. “Stop trying to be all macho and cool! It’s not like your friends are around to judge you for listening to basic pop music instead of your normal stuff. Come on, I know you’ll like it.”

“Okay,” he said hesitantly. “Let me read the lyrics first.”

“What kind of spoiler is that? Just listen to the song!” you said.

“I can’t understand the lyrics if I just listen to the song, and you said that it reminds you of me, so I want to know what you mean by that,” he said.

“How about you read the lyrics afterwards?” you bargained. He shook his head resolutely.

“No, because then the listening experience won’t be as strong,” he said. Sighing, you looked up the song’s lyrics and handed him your phone, holding onto his bicep and reading over his shoulder as he scrolled through the singer’s downright over-the-top articulations about how much she loved her boyfriend.

“It doesn’t sound as crazy when she’s singing it,” you muttered when Isagi’s ears turned red.

“No, no, this is sweet,” he said, pretending to cough in an attempt to disguise his laughter. “I can’t believe you think so highly of me.”

“Of course I do,” you said. “You’re my one and only boyfriend. You’re not the only one who gets to be cheesy, you know. I do as well — though only sometimes. Certainly not anywhere near as often as you are.”

“Right, being cheesy is my role,” he said, his cheek resting against your hair as you slumped into him. “Okay, since this is your way of showing affection, and since the lyrics are so charming, I guess I should probably listen to it. Give me one of your earbuds.”

“Gross, you didn’t bring your own?” you teased even as you handed one over to him. He rolled his eyes, shoving it into his ear, kissing your forehead as he did so.

“Super gross, I know,” he said. “You can play it whenever you’re ready.”

The familiar notes of the intro played, but you had played the song a million times before, so you hardly paid attention. Instead, you focused on Isagi, the way he frowned slightly as the first verse began, like he was concentrating very hard. It was endearing, that he was putting so much effort into the simple task; you knew it would’ve been much easier for him to pretend to be interested so he could get it over with, but he had never been like that. If you asked him to do something, he would put a hundred percent into it, a hundred percent or sometimes more, just so that he could make you happy.

You noticed, idly at first and then on purpose, that his body was different, his face angular in a way that it hadn’t been when he had left for Blue Lock. It was these changes you took stock of as he sat in peace, eyes shut as he listened to the music. He looked less like a boy and closer to the man he would one day become. You wondered how much he would change the next time he left, if you would even recognize him when he came back again.

In the end, though, you concluded that no matter how he had grown and how he was yet to grow, he was still at his core your Isagi. Isagi who listened to your music and gave piggyback rides to your younger siblings. Isagi who stopped in convenience stores so he could buy snacks for the stray cats and helped you pick what clothes you should wear for any given event. Isagi who loved you and who you loved in return.

“It’s really good,” he said, startling you out of your daze. “I liked it more than I thought I would! She has a really good voice, and you’re right — it does all sound much more natural when she’s singing it.”

“Is it getting added to the playlist?” you said.

“Hm,” he said. “Maybe the one I listen to at home, but I don’t know what the others would say if I was on speaker duty during one of our workouts and that started blasting. I think Barou and Raichi would probably die.”

You didn’t know that much about either of those two, but from what little Isagi had told you, that sounded in character enough, so you nodded in agreement.

“Good enough for me. It’s okay, I’m not mad! See, I have different playlists for different occasions, too, so it only makes sense that you would as well,” you said.

“I’m glad you’re not upset. I really do like it, just so you know. Send me more songs like it when you get home — I want to make a playlist of ones that remind me of you,” he said. 

“Why, so you can play it during your group workouts and make your single teammates jealous?” you said, elbowing him in the side. He chuckled.

“Nah, that would be cruel. I think I’ll bring my own pair of headphones to Blue Lock — I’ve definitely scored enough goals that they’ll let me keep them at this point — and whenever I miss you, I’ll listen to it,” he said.

“Oh,” you said, swallowing, taken aback at the casual way he always said such romantic things. “Um, well, if you have your phone, you could also just text me…”

It was his turn to be taken aback. “Oh, right. I guess I could do that too…but if you’re asleep, then I’ll listen to it! We get up pretty early, you know, and I don’t want to wake you when you should be resting.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you said. “But let’s not talk about you leaving right now. For the moment, I’m glad you’re on break and can spend time with me.”

“Me, too,” he said. “I love you, Y/N. Just as much as that singer loves her boyfriend. Actually, more.”

“I love you, too,” you said. “More than that singer could ever love anyone. Way more.”

He exhaled through his nose, and then he wrapped his arm around your waist, scooting impossibly closer to you on the park bench the two of you were sharing and humming the melody of the song as you watched people walk by. 

“Nagi!” Chigiri hissed from where he, Bachira, and Nagi were hiding in a bush — or at least, they were trying to. It was somewhat difficult to hide the towering Nagi, who was also not exactly cooperating in their covert mission or participating in their attempt at masterful disguise. “Did you get it?”

“What?” Nagi said with a yawn, still holding his phone up, pointed towards where Isagi and his girlfriend — the girlfriend whose existence they had all been convinced was a myth or tall tale — were sitting together. “Get what? Why are we even here? You guys told me that we were leaving the bowling arena to get snacks.”

“Give me that!” Chigiri said, snatching the phone from Nagi, who whined in protest. Bachira hushed him, reaching up to pat him on the head, though that only made Nagi pout like a child. “What? Why is this open to Subway Surfers?”

“Oh, Karasu downloaded it on my phone while we were all in the arcade, and I’ve been playing it ever since,” Nagi explained. “It’s kind of fun. I’m trying to get the national high score.”

“You were supposed to be filming Isagi and The Girlfriend!” Bachira said, emphasizing the words ‘the girlfriend’ as if she was some kind of legendary being. “That’s why we brought you along! You’re always playing on your phone, so it wouldn’t be suspicious for you to have it out, but you were secretly supposed to be taking videos as blackmail, not actually playing on it!”

“You guys didn’t tell me that,” Nagi said. “You told me that we were all going to buy chips and fruit jellies together.”

“We literally told you,” Chigiri said, face-palming. “We said when we got here, ‘look, Nagi, that’s Isagi and his girlfriend. Take a video of them.’ Anyways, why else would we be standing in a bush so creepily if we weren’t doing reconnaissance?”

Nagi shrugged. “Dunno, maybe it’s a common hobby or something.”

Chigiri narrowed his eyes at him, unable to discern if he was being serious or not. He decided to err on the side of caution, given how genuinely strange most of his Blue Lock peers were. “It’s not.”

“Okay, you know what? It’s fine. They’re still there, so we can get some footage now!” Bachira said, taking Nagi’s phone from Chigiri and using it to take pictures of Isagi and his girlfriend as they curled up with one another on the park bench.

“Use your own phone,” Nagi said, though he didn’t try to take the device back by force — it would be a hassle, and he was pretty sure that Bachira would give it back soon.

True to form, Bachira sent the photos to a group chat he created with himself, Nagi, and Chigiri, and then he gave Nagi his phone back, earning him a quiet cheer as Nagi was finally able to return to Subway Surfers.

“These are perfect,” Chigiri said. Nagi, whose little avatar had just been caught by the policeman, scowled slightly.

“By the way, why do you guys think that these are worthy of being used as blackmail?” he said.

“Uh, because it’s embarrassing that Isagi of all people is so lovey-dovey?” Bachira said.

“Exactly,” Chigiri said.

“I think it’s more embarrassing that he has a girlfriend and no one else does,” Nagi said conversationally, without even looking up from the screen. Bachira and Chigiri exchanged horrified looks and then, in unison, whipped out their phones to delete the offending material, Chigiri also taking the liberty of doing the same on Nagi’s.

“I can’t believe we didn’t consider that angle,” Bachira said, shaking his head. “Nagi, man, you’re a lifesaver.”

Nagi grunted, obviously uninterested in Bachira’s praise. 

“This is why they call him the lazy genius,” Chigiri said in approval. “Listen, the three of us are the only ones who can confirm the existence of Isagi’s girlfriend. That means that the next time he brings her up, we have to double down on denying it. You guys in?”

“Yup, sounds like fun!” Bachira said. “Nagi?”

Nagi looked up at them. “Will you guys pay for my chips and fruit jellies like you said you would?”

Chigiri and Bachira glanced at one another before nodding, silently agreeing to split the bill. 

“Sure, we got it!” Bachira said.

“Just don’t expect anything on the same level as whatever Reo buys you. We’re not that rich!” Chigiri said. Nagi shrugged.

“Whatever,” he said. 

“Then it’s a deal!” Chigiri said.

“Deal!” Bachira said.

“Deal,” Nagi agreed, shoving his phone in his pocket as the three of them traipsed towards the closest convenience store, leaving Isagi and Y/N blissfully alone and unaware that they had ever been there in the first place.

[yooglefics]

The casual type: 04 . The plans change

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader Wordcount: 4,832 words Genre ( for the whole series ): AU. College!verse. Strangers to friends with benefits to ???. Eventual smut. Hurt / comfort at times. Fluff for cute friends. Summary:  ( Series ) • Hobi and his girlfriend set you up with a friend of hers to help with whatever happened months back. However, no one really expected things to end the way they did. ( Ep. 04 ) • The night wasn't supposed to go like this, but there's nothing to complain about. Well, maybe a little. Warnings under read more.

Warnings ( for this ep ): The squad being annoying ( I <3 them ). Pet names ( princess , baby , doll ). Flirting. Making out. Grinding. Fingering. ( wash your hands, folks ). Yoongi's hands should be a warning. 1,1714 words of just smut and I literally don’t know how that happened lol. Author's note: The plans for this chapter also changed a lot because I only had like three notes for it lmao. Nevertheless, I'm excited to share it with all of you, thank you for sticking around and I hope you like this ep. Remember to leave a comment, send an ask, with your thoughts and also maybe reblog, and what not. As always, thank you for reading! <3

“No, the thing is, she doesn't want to share space. That's why,” Jimin accuses you from his position on the couch. Not being good at sharing himself since his whole body is on it.

“That's not true! I just don't want to be around sweaty boys.” 

“As if you don't sweat,” Jungkook argues.

“I don't.”

“She doesn't, she is a princess,” Is Yoongi's turn to pick on you. He called you that before at the club but this time surprises you since is in front of your friends and your relationship with each other has changed. And actually, you're supposed to be keeping that a secret from them.

“I love how she didn't argue that one,” says Jimin, chuckling.

“Because I am, duh.” You do an exaggerated flip of your ponytail while turning around, carrying another box of kitchenware to put away.

The guys finally decided to rent a house all together, and to make up for the fact that you refused to leave your dorm and follow them, you offered to help organize and decorate because, at the end of everything, you'd probably be spending a lot of time here. 

“You should have moved in with us,” You hear Hobi tell Yoongi after bringing more boxes inside the house. “Did you find a place?” 

“Yes, one of my classmates and his roommates were looking for someone. Is not too far away from here, actually.”

“That's cool. You guys can come over whenever.”

“You should come to the party tonight!” Taehyung says excitedly.

“Tonight?!” You walk out of the kitchen, a couple of glasses in your hands. “You're not even done downloading the truck. Jimin is not even moving!”

“I withdraw my offer for you to move in with us,” says your friend. “She is more like an evil step-sister,” he murmurs to Yoongi and he laughs along with everyone else.

“I hate you all.” 

Storming back into the kitchen, you decide to focus on putting everything away. Not a single thing that can be broken in sight of future drunk guests, that's why you are struggling to put mugs on cupboards you can barely reach.

“Do you need help, princess?” 

The nickname makes you almost drop Tae's last birthday present, and Yoongi is right there to catch you both. “Careful,” he says.

“Is your fault.”

“Did I scare you?” he chuckles, “Sorry.”

“You keep scaring me when you call me that,” you whisper.

“What? You don't like it?” Confused look on his face when he turns to you after putting the mug in place.

“I–why do you call me that?”

“Because sometimes you get kinda grumpy and you're cute, like a princess.”

It makes you smile, and it matches the one on his face.

“I'm going to ignore the fact that you called me grumpy,” you pretend to be upset about it, scrunching up your lips in fake dislike.

“Yeah, focus on the fact that you're cute.” you blush and he uses the excuse of grabbing another mug to get closer, making it so if you lean in a little you could steal a peck. 

But you still aren't sure about how the whole friends with benefits thing works. Nor confident enough to make a decision before Jungkook announces through the house: “the truck is empty, told you we could do it!”

And soon enough Yoongi is out of the room, helping move boxes here and there, and after everything that doesn't belong in the living room is out of it, he finally sits with you and Jimin on the sofa, you in the middle of the two.

“Are you really having a party today?” Yoongi asks.

“Of course! We have to baptize the place.”

“That sounds gross.” You say, noise scrunched.

“You're gross. That's not very princess-y of you,” says Jimin and Yoongi laughs.

“I feel gross, I'm going home to change. Do you want me to give you a ride to the dorms?”

“Yes, please!” 

You have thought about going alone, but after your failed kiss in the kitchen you wanted at least some time alone, and a car drive should be just enough. 

Or perhaps not. 

Because Yoongi drops you at your dorm and goes home to change, refusing to get close to you when he is all sweaty. 

You hit send with one hand and with the other make sure your door is open before sitting once again on the bed, grabbing your mirror and eyeliner to continue your routine.

“Hello?” He knocks a few times and you tell him to come in, all concentration on the task at hand. And that gives him time to look around a little, taking in your space. 

Is a large room, just looking a bit cramped thanks to the big pieces of furniture ( two beds, two dressers, and two desks ) but your method of putting everything against the walls definitely helps. That, and the fact that your roommate hasn't moved in yet. “Now I understand why you didn't want to move in with them. You have a room all for yourself?”

You laugh, “Their office was gonna be my room, actually. And no, this year I'm supposed to share it.”

“You didn't last year?”

“At the beginning I did. But then she paired with someone else.” You shrug, not sure about the details since you've only known her for a couple of weeks. “But it's not as cool as everyone thinks, sometimes it gets lonely, mostly on exam weeks when everyone is busy studying.”

“Well, you can invite me anytime.” He only partially jokes.

“Deal. But you've to bring snacks.” 

“Deal.”

Yoongi sits on your bed while waiting, scrolling on his phone and every now and then looking up to watch you apply the rest of your makeup, then perfume and pick a jacket, until you are standing in front of him with a smile as you announce you're ready. 

“That was faster than I thought,” he says, standing up. “Your eyes do look cute with the sparkle eyeshadow. Bogum was right.” 

“Oh, don't remember me that. I think that's the last time he is going to talk to me,” a sigh follows the exaggeration. 

“If he is really interested he is going to try again.”

“And if he is not?”

“Then he's not worth it.” The confidence in his voice is as contagious as his smile, and you match it.

For a second you wonder if it should be weird to talk about this with the guy you made out with just yesterday. If this is just normal encouragement because you are becoming friends or do all friends with benefits have this type of conversation?. Either way, you are glad to have someone to talk to about your little crush, and so, decide to not give it too much thought if Yoongi doesn't seem to do it either.

When he first asked you about it on Wednesday it was out of curiosity and you returned the phrase about the cat's tragic ending, receiving a “Well, I guess we are confidants now, kitten.”

You gave him a rundown of the situation and confessed about having a little bit of hope for his now teammate to invite you out again. He wished you the best and told you to let him know if something does happen because, according to him, Bo doesn't seem like the guy to be into sharing, and so, Yoongi doesn't want to be in the way.

“Maybe you should talk to him tonight. He is going, isn't he?”

“Uh, not sure. I asked Kook but I don't think he saw my text.” you turn to grab your phone and check.

But before you can open the app, Yoongi grabs your shoulders and guides you out the door, “Or we can just drive there and see.” 

You're surprised to see the motorcycle in the parking lot, thinking it had been just a thing of last week since you haven't seen him use it since then. You even wondered if it was his in the first place.

“What? Are you scared now?” He teases when you don't take the helmet he is holding in your direction. Just standing there without any movement. “You know I'm a good driver.”

“Yeah, I just… didn't expect it.”

He laughs at your genuine shock before explaining, “I always take it to parties because it's easier to find parking and get out of there whenever I want to.” 

“And I'm sure girls love it, too.”

“That's a plus,” He nods with a smirk, “but don't worry, baby, I’m not making you share tonight.”

“Shut up,” with your nose scrunched for good measure, you finally take the helmet from him. But instead of grabbing his own and getting ready, he gets closer to you, brushing your fingers with his when you're going to secure it and doing it for you instead.

“You tell me that a lot, you know.”

“You talk too much,” you defend, “it's your own fault.”

“Or… you just want to kiss me.”

Glad your smile is hidden by the helmet,  you push him a bit as you answer, "Actually, shut up.”

He laughs, and then goes on to put on and secure his helmet before claiming on the motorcycle and waiting for you. 

The shock about the vehicle wasn't only pure confusion, it was also the realization that your outfit was probably not the best choice. The fabric of your skirt was flowier than the one you used last time, and you aren't sure it would do well at a fast speed.

“Don't go too fast,” you ask him, hands on his shoulders to help you get on and sit behind him.

“I don't get that a lot,” he jokes, and you roll your eyes still fussing with your clothes. “You ready?” he waits for your signal before revving up the engine. 

He drives faster than last time. Or maybe you're just sober and more scared about it all. Your legs tighten on his sides, and your arms around his middle, all the while telling yourself is only to protect the wind from stealing your dignity. When he stops, you have to open your eyes to realize it is because of a red light and your body relaxes. 

Left hand leaves the throttle and goes to your tight, closer to your knee, the coldness of his fingers makes you jump and you feel him chuckle before caressing your skin. “You okay?” he asks loud enough to be heard through the street noises and your covered ears. You nod between his shoulder blades, even if your heart is racing. 

Remembering you had felt your phone ringing in your jacket pocket indicating a few texts, you figure there's enough time to check them before the light changes.

You show Yoongi and he gives you a thumbs down, making you laugh. Oh, well. Maybe it just wasn't made to be.

Thinking he would just drive you back to your dorm, you're surprised when he doesn't take the next turn back — is he driving to another party?

The answer comes only when he takes a turn before entering the highway. Right to the top of The Hill. Every teenager destination to run away from their problems. Every horny couple with a low budget looking for privacy, which yes, in itself destroys that very purpose. But, this is not a place to think about too much, even if there are also people who come here to think, like Yoongi.

He turns the engine off, puts down the stand, and takes off his helmet. You follow behind, curious.

“I figured we should make something out of being outside right now, the sun is about to set.” He looks at his watch and then to the front, at the view. From here you can see the city from above, at least a big part of it. Including the mountains and skylines.

“C’mon,” he pats your tight twice, asking you to get down. Complying, you use his shoulders for support again and get closer to the barricade at the edge. 

“C'mon,” you throw back to him when he doesn't follow you.

“I can see it from here.”

You frown at him, “really?” He nods. Your head tilts slightly to the side, “reeeally?” 

“Let a guy be.”

He looks… weird. 

And, suddenly, it clicks.

“I can't believe it.” You walk back to him, “Are you afraid of heights?!” 

“Don't make fun of me.” 

“I'm not!” But in fact you're fighting back a smile, “is just… unexpected.”

“Yeah. Unlike the death from falling from here to who knows where.” He reasons and you can't really argue with that.

But you can argue with him moving closer.

Grabbing his hand and pulling, amazed when you manage a few steps without problem, but soon he puts strength into it. The abrupt stop of his body pulls yours back, bringing you close to his chest, making a surprise noise cross your lips and your triumphant smile is gone.

“Don't make me leave you here,” and for a second you wonder if he really would. Wonder how much you can push before he actually gets mad. “Look!”

Your eyes stop scanning his face, following the direction he is looking at and you catch the sky changing colors for the next few minutes. Blue. Orange. Pink. Purple. Dark blue, because the lights of the city start to appear avoiding the complete darkness. But from here, you can see more stars than from your room's window and everything seems kind of infinity.

“Wow…” is a bit lame and predictable, but what else is there to say?

“Yeah. Is beautiful.” He agrees, hand finally letting go of yours and moving to your shoulder, “and you didn't have to stand at the line of death to see it.”

“So dramatic.” With an eye roll you turn to him. He appears calmer, with a smile playing on his lips as he keeps looking at the sky.

“What?” he asks.

You're in his room now, sitting on the bed Yoongi just told you he had to buy a mattress for because he used to dorm at his last university and didn't own one. You make no promises of not spilling any of your slushie on it and he laughs, tells you he will not forgive you and both of you know it’s not true. 

Going back to your room isn't a priority right now, you're having a good time talking about random things and siping your sugary drinks with a big bag of chips between the two. You were nervous about his roommates because apparently they are older and that scares you for some reason, but he reassures you they are busy with their own thing and he can drive you back before they arrive.

“Nothing.” But your eyes are still on his lips, on the color they are tinted thanks to the red drinks, “do you like it?”

“Is not bad. I prefer blueberry, though.” 

“I think this one is better,” you said that before at the store when you stopped for gas, convincing him to try it.

“Of course you think so, you love cherry things. I'd not be surprised if your favorite color is red just because of it.”

“How do you know that?” is surprising he says it with such security.

“It is?”

“No. I mean, yes,” you backtrack, “but how do you know that I love cherry things? Did the matchmakers tell you that?”

“Mai and Hobi?

You nod, too curious of his answer you miss the way his eyes are following your lips as they wrap around the straw.

“No. But you always have cherry candy with you. You gave us cherry lollipops on tuesday. I asked you for gum the other day and you gave me cherry. Jungkook gets you cherry cola specifically, from the vending machine at our building. And,” he pauses his list, the corner of his lip curving up, “like four out of the five times we've kissed, you either test or smell like cherry. Or both.”

“Well,” you answer after a couple seconds of silence, “I'm conscious now.”

He laughs, and you drink again.

“Don't be. Is like… your touch.”

“Ew,” noise scrunched up, “I don't know if I want that. Am I going to be known as the cherry girl?”

Again he laughs, your horrified expression making it impossible not to. 

“Do I smell like it right now?” Bringing your arm to your nose, you try smelling your clothes. Then your hair. 

“Stop,” he asks, reaching to put strains of hair back into place. “You smell good. Forget I said anything.”

“No, I can't. Now it’s in my head.” You try smelling your other arm, almost spilling your drink.

“Okay,” he catches it in time, tilting your hand back completely upright, “that way you really are going to taste like cherry and leave a trace behind.” 

“Wait. Do I really taste like it? When you kiss me, does it bother you?” 

“Why are you freaking out about this?” And seeing your seriousness, he bites back his chuckles.

“Just answer the question.”

“Okay, okay. Let's see,” and before you can process it, his lips are on yours, and he hums. “Can’t tell.” And he goes in again, free hand to the back of your head to bring you forward, to really capture your lips with his.

Running his tongue over your bottom lip sends shivers through your body since it’s warmer, softer. And a small moan escapes your lips, separating them and letting his tongue in. 

You're scared to move. Not because of him. But because you have been wanting to kiss him since sitting down — heck, since this morning — but didn't know how. All this feels so complicated in your head, with rules you have to follow and what not, but in practice, he makes it look so much easier. 

Of course you can't pull him for a kiss in your friends’ house, that is too risky. But when he kisses you like this, it gives you confidence to at least ask him to do it whenever you're alone and feel like it.

Somehow your hand is on his neck, fingers running through the hair at his nape as your mouths keep their rhythm going. And you decide to take the risk, kneeling on the bed and moving closer to him. You separate for a second only to make sure you're not making a mess and he smiles at you, “give me that.” Sipping one last time at the slushie, you give it to him to be secured and abandoned on his nightstand, bag of chips moves next and now his hands are free to pull you into his lap by your waist.

“You haven't answered the question,” you tell him, hands cupping his face, “Or you just wanted to kiss me?”

“Stop stealing my lines.”

“Is that a no?” You pretend to pull back and his hold tightness.

“You want me to say it?” a nod is your answer, and is a bit surprising when he obeys. “Yes. I wanted to kiss you,” and he does, making his point clear. “And also yes, you test like cherry sometimes,” another peck, “is sweeter now, but not so much like when is from your candies,” his voice gets lower each time, practically a whisper, “and your lips look amazing tinted red, I want to kiss you every time.”

And you make it happen. Kissing him softer this time, setting your own peace. Yoongi goes with it at first, but those thoughts he doesn't share with you are hard to keep on track when your hips grind against his. Not helping with the situation in his jeans. 

His hands hold you firmly, stopping your movements, and his lips move faster, fighting for dominance. He wants you and you know it and it gives you the confidence to move again. At first it was involuntarily, your body's own reaction to him, but then you put force into it, mostly to go against his hold. He groans into your mouth, feeling it rumble against your chest. 

Pushing his shoulders back, Yoongi finally gives in and lets go of your hips in order to help himself up with an arm behind him, other hand on your thigh. His eyes travel from there to your chest, moving as fast as his with your breathing, to your face, bottom lip between your teeth and his tongue touches his own in the same place. You just sit there, looking at each other for a few seconds until his hand moves up your leg, dragging the fabric of the skirt along. But he stops mid way, going back down. He chuckles at your reaction of puffing air as a sign of deception, “what's that?”

Prying your eyes from his hand is difficult, but you look at his face, smirk in place as he moves again, fingertips glassing over soft skin. “I should make you do it too,” he teases, “make you tell me what you think and what you want.”

The idea is both terrifying and a turn on at the same time. You have never vocally asked for anything like that, but the tone of his voice, the raspiness, it intoxicates you so much you may be willing to try.

“But I'm not mean like you, baby.” In one swift movement his hand is up your leg again, grabbing your butt and making your skirt rail up, exposing more of your thigh and you gasp as he bucks his hips upward.

“I’m not mean,” you breathe. 

“No?” Head tilts to the side, that playful smile of his should be a crime. “Are you a good girl?”

“I hate you.”

“So we are dirty talking,” he nods and you roll your eyes with a chuckle.

It hasn't been long, but you really like what you guys have. Is easy. Without drama or feelings being hurt. And, being completely honest, the way he kisses you is enough to know you make the right decision.

Do you still believe in soulmates and want to meet yours and live happily ever after like all the love stories you have consumed throughout your life? Yes. But maybe your story can also include an arc of exploring your sexuality with someone who is just a friend. Someone who gets your jokes and trusts you too. Someone who kisses you sooo good it takes your breath away without having to be scared of the future and what-ifs. 

Someone whose fingertips brush the top of your inner thighs, so close to their goal, but nothing more because he is waiting for you. Although it’s hard because of the little sounds that keep flowing out of your throat as you start moving your hips on his lap, grinding on his hardening erection.

He is kissing your neck, sucking here and there but not hard enough to leave marks, and his other hand has made its way down your t-shirt, looking for that skin to skin contact, glad both of your guys' jackets were abandoned way before at his bedroom’s entrance. 

“Tell me to stop and I'll,” Yoongi reminds against your skin and you nod, the hand under your skirt finally moving from its place and you miss the warmth it provided. But his fingers reach for the waistband of your panties and your breath hatch a little as they move south, thumb brushing over your clothed pussy. “Fuck.” 

You moan. At the touch, at his reaction to feeling you're wet. And before you can feel conscious about it, he is rubbing circles over it. “Ahh…”

“So responsive,” he groans, “Does it feel good?” 

You nod, unable to form words as he pushes gently over on your center, making your body move towards him, looking for more. And he gives it to you by sneaking his hand under your panties, ring finger sliding between your folds, a groan of his own accompanying your whimpers as he truly feels how wet you're.

“F-fuck. You feel so soft,” Yoongi points out and it makes a shiver run down your body, while he keeps rubbing expertly, cupping your pussy when even without realizing your hips start moving again, looking for more friction.

“Y-yoongi,” you call, asking for more. 

For a second you think he doesn't get it because he takes his hand out, however is only to bring his ring and middle finger to his mouth, humming around them without breaking eye contact. Brown irises over taken by desire and you could've gotten lost on that look alone, but soon his hand goes back to its place between your legs, “Breathe,” he instructs, “tell me if it hurts.”

And it does, a little. Because you're not used to it and every touch is a bit overwhelming, all the same, he is gentle, one finger pushing in slowly and not all the way before going back. Your eyes close under his gaze, inspecting your reaction as he pushes in again, letting you get used to the feeling. 

“Is it good?” his lips go back to your neck, kissing his way up to your lips. 

“S-so good,” you smile against his mouth, “you can go on.”

And he moans against yours before adding another one, two digits inside you.

The thing about Yoongi is: he is a pleaser. He likes making his partners feel good and the way your lips part as he pushes into your pussy makes him weak. He knows that if you asked him to finger you all night he would, no questions asked.

But he also knows you don't have much time. That's why you are still sitting on his lap and not laying on his bed, and why he kept your clothes on even if is now regretting it.

His eyes travel down your body, to your hand in a fist with the fabric of your clothes. “Pull it up, doll.” Yoongi requests. “Your skirt. Let me see you.” 

You do, the carmine color on your cheeks even deeper as your sight is filled with his hand movements. 

“...so hot, taking my fingers so good.” He murmurs, hand on your lower back holding you in place as he picks up the peace. Feeling how your walls tighten around him every time he pushes in and his dick requests attention at the thought of fucking you properly. If only he had time.

“Fuck, fuck, fuc-” is your new mantra as his fingers move expertly, breaking into incohesive moans when they touch the bundle of muscle that makes you see stars. 

“I got you,” he says, “f-fuck, so pretty, baby.” Yoongi's voice is so gentle and still filled with lust as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, getting you closer and closer to the end. “C’mon, let me see you cum, y/n.”

And that's all you need, hear your name so out of breath, to practically hit your orgasm on command. Head tilted back and lip between your teeth to suppress any noises, ignoring the voice of reason in your head that tells you is a bit late for that.

When you open your eyes again Yoongi's fingers are back in his mouth, sucking yourself off of them, and even if you just reached your high, you can't help the way your pussy reacts to that.

Catching you staring, he winks at you. 

And before you can decide the next move, your ringtone fills the silence, almost making you jump out of his lap. He chuckles, “Careful,” freeing you from his hands as you reach for your phone.

“Yes?” You answer, free hand fixing your clothes and putting black strains in place, trying to shake the feeling of being caught.

“Hi. Sorry about the time, my flight got canceled and then the next one took hours and—” taking the phone away from your ear, you realize that in the heat of the moment you didn't even notice it was an unknown number and not one of the guys. You're about to say they probably got the wrong number but the person keeps talking and it feels rude to just cut them off. “...but I'll have to wait until tomorrow. So apparently you're the only one with a key now and they said you were here but I knocked and well, I don't know if you were sleeping or…?” 

It takes you a second to process they do want you to talk now. “Sorry. I don't think I'm who you're looking for.”

“Are you not y/n?”

“Yes…” you turn to Yoongi, confused expression matching yours. “Who are you?”

“Oh, shit. I forgot to introduce myself, didn't I?” You nod even if it can't be seen through the phone, “I'm Subin. Your new roommate.”

A/N: AAAAAAHHHHHH pls don't call Subin a cockblocker ㅠ^ㅠ even if she would call herself that if she knew hahah. A/N 2: ALSO, I decided to try something new with the format of showing the texting, so please tell me your opinion, do you like it as screenshots or prefer it to be typed down? or is the same either way? Send a tip on ko-fi?? ( Only if you can and don't feel pressured to do it! )

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[titanic-angel]

нoвιe вrown х gn!reader

⇁︎a coмғorтιng anarcнιѕт↽︎

ѕynopѕιѕ: aғтer a roυgн day, yoυr 'вeѕт ғrιend' нelpѕ ѕooтнe yoυ

warnιngѕ: none

noтeѕ: jυѕ ѕυм ѕoғт lovιn- ѕнorтer тнan мy υѕυal ѕтυғғѕ вυт yĸnow ιтѕ ѕтιll ѕweeт

▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎

You did not cry often.

For starters, it was embarrassing. You felt childish and most of all stupid, for not being able to control your feelings. Whenever you felt that ache behind your eyes, you would try your best to breathe through it, feigning a headache or frustration to avoid someone looking into your eyes and finding tears.

Second- you felt ugly. It sounds vain but something about the way your cheeks went damp, the crinkle of your nose and the sound your mouth made when it tried to catch up with your lungs made you want to recoil out of your body.

Today however, closing your door after an exhausting day, little droplets of shame ran down your cheeks.

Training day. It was your least favorite day of the week, by far. Not only were you forced to preform in front of your peers, but you were expected to improve since the last session.

Of course, you were well versed in plenty of skills, you’d been doing your job for plenty long by now. But it was so anxiety inducing, those people watching you, that simple tasks started to feel near impossible.

You had made a fool of yourself.

Frustration tears bubbled in your lids closed tight in hopes they would simmer away for another day.

But they just kept falling.

You groaned, slipping off your shoes and flopping on the couch. Just as you closed your eyes, you heard your fridge being shut.

“Long day- yeah?”

Shit.

You knew that voice anywhere. His boots clunked towards the couch, and you frantically wiped your face and tried to think of a plan to hide your tears.

You could pretend to be asleep- but Hobie would probably just shake you awake.

You could turn over, but he’d eventually turn you around by force.

Or you could lie.

Too late.

He poked his head over the couch, eyes landing on you. You didn’t move, but forced a smile up at him, trying your best to avert his eyes from your own.

“Hey Hobs.” You drew out the hey, sliding up to meet his gaze.

He seemed to stutter for a moment, eyes widening just slightly. Your heart raced, really hoping he’d say some dumb British slang that makes you laugh- makes you forget.

Frantically looking for a distraction, your eyes fell on the bowl of cereal in his hand. Your eyes narrowed playfully. “What did I tell you about coming in here and eating my food.”

He didn’t say anything, moving around the couch and sitting down, cereal still in his hand. You leaned up against the pillow to make room, palms getting sweaty as his unusual silence continued.

“What- are you not gonna answer for your offense?” There was lightness in your voice, but Hobie definitely knew you well enough to pick up on the nerves that made your voice squeak.

He turned to you, and immediately you knew the gig was up. He looked almost disappointed- how terrible you were at hiding your feelings. At least, around him.

You looked down at your knees. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

You heard the clicking of the bowl being put down on the side table.

“It was a long day okay? That’s all. It’s not a big deal.”

The shifting of his jeans on the couch. God, he was really close to you right now.

“Can you say something? You being quiet is really disturb-“

Course hands on your cheeks pulled you to look at him. Your heart raced, cheeks warming at the gentleness of his gaze, his hands, his…breath.

Hobie had been your best friend since day one at the force. However, you won’t deny how gorgeous the man is, let alone how comfortable and safe you feel around him.

But like he says, labels aren’t his thing.

And loving someone who couldn’t wasn’t yours.

So you settled for whatever…this was. The comfort and warmth, the little distance between your lips, the staring contests that neither of you ever broke off.

You felt his thumb brush away a wet patch, eyes still concentrated on yours. “Feel like talkin’ now?”

You breathed deep, chest caving into your spine.

“I just- I’m frustrated with myself. Today should’ve…it could’ve gone really well…” your nose scrunched up, feeling the burned sensation starting behind your eyes again, “but. Training sucked today. I sucked today. And I’m just- I feel stupid.”

You opened your eyes, leaning into his warm touch. He was still quiet, as if pondering what to say next. It only made you more frustrated.

“God would you just say something.”

His hands drifted from your cheeks to your shoulders, and he pulled you into his chest.

There was something about this embrace that felt isolated from other ones. Flippant hands around your shoulder, head locks, the shake of the shoulders.

This was one to melt into. One that felt as if you could close your eyes, live in it forever.

“Yer the smartest person I know.” he said, his whisper near gruff in your ear.

You buried your nose into his shoulder, tears threatening to spill onto the cold leather. A muffled thank you was all he needed to pull you closer.

You stayed like that longer that friends do.

Suddenly, the swells and falls of the day started to drift away, and the smell of him made its way into your brain- processing how close he was. If your chest beat any faster, you swear he could feel it on his own.

He pulled away, and your noses brushed.

When you looked at him, his gaze wasn’t on your eyes.

It was on your lips.

“Hob-“

“Can I kiss you.”

You felt your heart lurch into your chest, the four words in that order barely registering until you found yourself nodding, and his mouth meeting yours.

It was soft, at first. You barely moved, but when you brought your hand to caress his cheek you felt him shift, hand pulling you in closer from your waist.

He kissed like he talked. Gruff and low, but to you it was always gentle. It felt like his laughter, he smile, and every other slip of heaven the man ever sent your way.

He pulled away, releasing a sigh.

“You ‘ave no clue how long I’ve wanted that.”

You put your head into his shoulder. “Maybe is should come home crying more often if your gonna greet me with that.”

He chuckled, resting his hand on your back and pulling you into his laugh. “Nah. I’d rather kiss you when you’re smiling.”

It was your turn to laugh, chest vibrating against his. You lifted your head, sending him a skeptical look. “Awfully poetic for an anarchist.”

He shrugged. “What can I say? You bring it outta me.”

You hummed, leaning back into his shoulder. Of course, you could try and figure out what kissing him meant for your relationship. Whether or not this made things complicated or simple- but for now it felt right to just let your mind settle and your breath slow, with him.

You felt him reach across the table to grab his cereal bowl, and you resisted the urge to take it yourself.

“‘S was the last bowl, by the way.”

“You’re paying for another box.”

▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎

ѕнorт and ѕweeт!! мayвe ιll wrιтe a ғollow υp вυт ιтѕ υnlιĸey lмғa

[colormepurplex2]

The Demon Is In The Details | Sweet, Sweet Soul

↳ Demon!Jimin x Human!f.Reader ⤜ Crossroads Demon AU, Accidental Enthrallment ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 9,928 ⚠️ Crass language, soul sucking, dick piercing, cock sucking, kissing, biting, mild nipple play/biting/there is blood involved, blood drinking, face fucking, hair pulling, choking, body worship, enthrallment/instant infatuation, begging, vaginal sex, creampie, cum play/eating, insatiable lust, lost soul, demon metamorphosis

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You’re not sure what you expected—but, a lavish bedroom complete with a four-poster bed and sitting area with plush upholstered furniture wasn’t it. It all feels so…human. You can almost pretend like you are just on an extended vacation, staying at some ritzy hotel.

“So, this is where demons live, huh?” You try not to let too much sarcasm thread into your words. “Was expecting more fire and brimstone and less velvet and lace,” you say, plucking at the lacy fringe of the canopy drapes that are pulled back on the bed.

The demon sniffs, his chin turning up in mild indignation. “Fire and brimstone? What utter nonsense,” he mutters, but you can tell he’s just sure to be loud enough for you to hear.

That prickles a bit. It’s not like you’re precisely well-versed on the whole demon thing. Are you supposed to know that demons enjoy the lap of luxury instead of broiling in sulfuric pits of steaming sludge? Everything you’ve ever read, heard, or been taught hinges on the idea that demons are hellish monsters that dwell in Hell. And considering Hell is supposed to be a place of fire and brimstone, well, put two and two together, and you don’t think your assumption is a stretch.

“Is this even Hell?” you ask.

Red eyes cut your way, and the demon’s top lip curls in disgust. “This is a hell, yes.”

“A hell?”

“Mm,” he hums lightly in acknowledgement. “One of many.”

Many? Interesting. “Like the different circles?”

The demon sighs, his red eyes rolling in annoyance. “Whatever it is you think you may know, forget it. There are no ‘circles’, no pits—unless you count the sanguine pits, but you probably don’t want to go there,” his top teeth sink into his bottom lip for a moment, his eyes turning mischievous, “or maybe you do. Another day, perhaps. Anyway, this is the…Inferna is the best human word to use to describe it. But, you may call it home, considering that is exactly what it is now; your home.” He chuckles, but you think it’s a poor joke.

“Home. Okay, sure, very funny.” The sarcasm helps to bolster your mood a bit, knowing that you can still spit words with at least a little venom.

That’s all you’ve been able to think about since the understanding of what was happening dawned on you. The fear of not being able to think for yourself, that your free will and ability to think would be stripped from you, and you’d become nothing more than some mindless demon slut.

The fact you’re able to hold this conversation is promising. But you are curious. With the deal settled between this demon and Dominique, you feel like you’ve been put in an ambiguous limbo of sorts. Dominique’s deal included you, but as she said, it wasn’t your own deal.

So, do you even have a deal with this demon? But, before you can express your curiosity further, a loud knock echoes from the double doors on the other side of the sitting area that you hadn’t noticed before.

“This should be fun,” the demon says, and it almost seems like he’s…pouting? “Come in.”

The doors swing open on a blast of hot air. Clouds of grey-blue smoke curl through the space before dissipating and revealing what you can only describe as evil incarnate. At least, that’s the feeling you get, like happiness and joy can not exist in the presence of this being. Your energy immediately wanes, so much so that it makes your knees weak.

Pitch-colored eyes set in an angular face framed by thick, inky hair give way to taught lips drawn in a severe line. His body is hidden by the billowing folds of a robe that seems made of gossamer and iron, with its constant shifting in the room's ambient lighting.

A voice as deep as the darkest chasm in the ocean and just as cold hisses through the room. “What have we here? A pet?”

“Dark Lord,” the demon at your side says, bending at the waist and bowing deeply. He straightens, casting a quick glance in your direction. “A pleasant mistake is all, My Lord. A soul come to me by the blundering of a supposed friend.”

“More fiend than a friend, it seems, if the result is this.” A smirk curls the pale pink lips of the man—demon?—standing in the doorway.

You want to jump to Dominique’s defense and argue that she’s not the fiend here, but a scathing look from the male at your side silences anything you might have mustered in protest. The look on his face says opening your mouth is probably the last thing you want to do right now. Whoever this ‘Dark Lord’ is, even the demon laying claim to your soul is intimidated by him.

“Very well,” the newcomer says before sucking in a deep, drawing breath as if scenting the very air around him. “Yes, yes, I think she’ll do well. A strong spirit, but not so strong that she won’t break. Perhaps…you might find it in you to share.”

“Share?” The word is gritted out between clamped teeth, stilted and forced. “Of course, if that is what you desire.”

“Please, Jimin, I aim only to tease you,” the being chuckles, wafting a hand complete with blackened nails and spidery purple veins. The billowing robes bend and sway with the act, stirring long shadows along the walls to either side of the doors. “Keep the little mouse. Enjoy the luxury of a pure soul for once. You’ve earned it.”

With that, he turns to leave, vanishing in a swirl of grey that disappears as the doors swing closed once more. Even though he’s gone, there is one thing that he left behind. A word. Or more so, a name.

Jimin.

“So, Jimin, huh?”

A low growl rumbles from the demon before his ruby eyes slice your way. “You will not use that name.”

Despite your lack of belief in demons and all the abracadabra nonsense prior to this, you’ve read enough to know there can be power behind knowing a demon’s name. However, you’re not sure how much power there is. But you’re willing to find out.

“What’s the matter, Jimin—” you twist the name with emphasis, “—don’t like it when someone might have power over you, Jimin? It is a taste of your own medicine, perhaps, Jimin?”

You part your lips, tongue poised to continue your taunting tirade, but in a flash, a warm, rigid hand is clamped over your mouth. Fire burns in the deep recesses of Jimin’s eyes. It's not just a pseudo-flame trick of the light, either. Real flames dance within the blood-colored irises. They undulate and grow brighter with each rise and fall of his chest until you’re certain smoke is going to start pouring out of his ears at any moment.

“You know, I thought I quite enjoyed your fiery spirit. But now, I’m not so sure. Maybe just a little tweak, a little taste, and you’ll…be…just…right.” As he says the words, drawn out and slow, you feel a little tug in the center of your chest.

The feeling starts out light, barely a string’s caress between your breasts. But gradually, it turns into a thick line of yarn that you’d swear was slowly unraveling your soul the way it would from a skein. There is an ebbing clarity, a fleeting thought that this is something you’re certain you should be resisting.

But you can’t seem to tear yourself away from staring into those flaming depths. Simply a moth drawn to the flame, heedless of the blaze threatening to engulf you.

His body presses against yours, hard and hot in contrast to your soft and freezing. The fact your body is chilled right to the bone only registers now. The trembling starts at the tips of your fingers and toes before your entire body shudders against his. Yet, you still can’t will yourself to look away.

“W-what are y-yo…you do-doing to…to me?”

The words sound hollow to your ears, thin and thready, like a weak pulse compared to the hammering of your heart that’s forcing your blood to woosh with staccato punches. The edges of your vision darken, and you struggle to blink or look away, to do anything to break the fevered contact.

“Perfect,” Jimin purrs, the sound registering the second before whatever is holding you in place diminishes, and you slump forward. Strong arms cradle your body, an arm sliding under the backs of your knees to lift you bridal style. Whereas your eyes wouldn’t close before, they now refuse to open. The darkness, such a contrast to the fire you were captured by before, makes your eyes ache and water. You can feel the trails of your tears cut through your hairline and blend with the perspiration gathering there.

Hot and cold. Light and dark. It’s hard to tell up from down at this point—warring emotions, seemingly endless confusion. You feel like you’re floating weightless in an abyss, though distinctly aware of how your body curls against smooth silk covering warm flesh.

With a sigh, you find the strength to open your eyes, meeting those crimson rings once more. Except, this time, there is no fear…no confusion…only peace, deeply rooted and infinitely spread through every fiber of your being.

You can see yourself reflected in those endless, vermillion depths. And what you see is…different; still you…but different—hungrier, a feral tinge that you know should frighten you.

😈😈😈

Jimin

The taste of your soul still lingers in Jimin’s mouth, making saliva pool under his tongue. It was the tiniest taste, just a sampling of what’s to come. But, fuck, if it didn’t make his cock hard and his chest ache from the restraint he used to hold himself from draining you completely dry while sucking the marrow right from your bones.

You are quite possibly the most exquisite creature he has ever laid eyes on, much less had the pleasure of savoring. His anger at Yoongi is quickly dissipating, replaced by the erotic thrum of the call of your soul. It beckons him to drink more, to devour you completely.

Jimin didn’t want to do this so soon. He’d intended to drag this out as much as possible, playing a game with his own constraint to see how long he could withstand your allure. This is Yoongi’s fault. If the Dark Lord hadn’t come in here sniffing around things that were not his, letting things as precious as names slip, Jimin wouldn’t have been so forced to jump the gun.

He had little choice in it, he’s sure. If you had continued to twist his name with your perfect lips, you would have indeed begun to wield the power behind it. With each additional drop of his name, he felt the knot forming at the base of his spine. The one that triggers his survival instincts and forces his hand.

Perhaps it’s for the best, he thinks, as he effortlessly carts your limp body over to the bed and lays you out. Your head lolls from side to side, eyes fluttering as they adjust to what Jimin knows must be an unpleasant ache deep in your psyche. It might be millennia since he became forsaken, but the memory of how it felt has not diminished.

Not that he’s going to let that happen to you. As it is, he’s undecided on how this is going to play out in the end. He has a deal with your friend that you will remain unharmed, and sucking out your soul until you become a demon doesn’t necessarily harm you. It’s mildly uncomfortable, but all together, not exactly harmful. Well, not to you physically, at least. That’s not saying much for you emotionally…spiritually.

Dominique should have been more precise in her demands—unharmed can mean anything. Though, he knows there could be room for argument that he was being deceptive. He shrugs to himself. He’s a demon…it’s to be expected. Words hold all the power. They are Jimin’s preferred weapon of choice for a reason. It’s why he’s so good at what he does, why Yoongi bestowed the crossroads task upon him all those centuries ago. Yes, if your so-called friend had truly cared, she should have been far more specific in her request and should have read between the lines before offering her blood and sealing your fate.

Jimin looks down on you from beside the bed as you slowly regain your senses. He has to adjust himself in his trousers, his arousal growing with each barely audible mewl that whimpers from your lips. If he were a lesser demon, he might not be able to keep himself from pouncing in your weakened state. As much as Jimin likes to dominate, he’d be curious to see what comes naturally now that a part of you resides in him.

“Mmm,” you moan softly.

Your eyes slide closed once more before finally popping open, wide and full of clarity. They find his, and what Jimin sees there has his whole body going taut with anticipation. You look like a feral wolf about to spring on an unsuspecting rabbit, and Jimin just so happens to be said rabbit. If you keep looking at him that way, perhaps he won’t mind being the prey for once.

“Whoa,” Jimin chuckles as you lurch upright in the bed, swinging an arm wildly in his direction, fingers hooked into claws. “Give yourself a minute.”

There is a thick, sultriness to your voice that wasn’t there before as you say, “I…I feel—I want…what did you do to me?” You bring the hand you swung at him up in front of your face, flipping it from front to back again and again as if somehow you’ll be able to physically see the change in yourself.

“Only what I’m entitled to.”

Your eyes snap to his, sharp and calculating. He’s intentionally cryptic, but he knows you can see straight through his deliberately obtuse response.

“Entitled to? The deal was for you not to harm me!” you snarl, teeth barred in his direction. Jimin decides it’s a cute look on you, like a stray kitten gearing up for a hissing match. Too bad for you, Jimin’s trained in the prowess of being a lion.

“You are unharmed,” he snaps back, eyes flashing.

You cringe, and Jimin almost wants to take it back. But that won’t do. No, not for what he has planned for you. As appealing as your defiance is…no, Jimin needs this far too much.

He realizes just how hungry he is.

Absolutely, ravenous. And he knows exactly what he wants to satiate the ache.

You mutter something under your breath, and if Jimin didn’t have the super hearing of a demon, he’d surely miss it. “Why am I so gods damned horny? Now is not the time to be jonesing for a joyride on a monster dick.”

“I think now is precisely the time to be, as you say, ‘jonesing for a joyride on a monster dick’.”

The surprise on your face is second only to the way your heart lurches in your chest, so intense that Jimin can distinctly hear the upbeat roar it launches into at his words. Both make Jimin feel powerful, in vastly different ways. Your lips form an enticing tiny opening as you gape at him, and the blood rushing through your body notches up the pulsing thrum he knows you can feel spiking through your clit now. The mere notion of riding a dick has your body primed and aching already.

“What did you say?”

“I merely repeated what you said. I don’t typically fuck on the first date, but seeing as how this isn’t a usual first…I think I can make an exception.”

In fact, Jimin is almost sure that if he doesn’t find himself in one of your holes in the next five minutes, he might make a fool of himself, similar to something a teenage human boy might experience. Typically, he doesn’t get to enjoy the tender confines of a human, not unless it’s part of the demon deal they make—which, thanks to the influx of paranormal romance stories out there, has increased somewhat in the last handful of decades.

The tip of your tongue pokes out and absently moves over the roundness of your bottom lip. “I don’t know if I understand what you’re saying.”

That’s cute; you trying to play it off like Jimin’s proclamation didn’t just create a wave pool in your panties. He can smell it, the light, tangy scent of your arousal. It blooms in the air as you shift to your knees on the bed; you’re unknowingly filling Jimin’s lungs with the smell of your dripping cunt.

He takes a deep, appreciative breath and allows a moment of tense silence to hang in the air between you. The thread snaps, thin as gauze. You’re on him in the next instant, one hand fisting in his hair and the other ripping at the buttons on his shirt. Your knees slide over the silk of the duvet as you simultaneously pull Jimin until his thighs knock the side of the bed and your front is pressed to his.

“Take your clothes off,” Jimin states, and you immediately stop your frantic groping of him and begin to shed your own clothes. “Bare yourself to me.” Jimin’s top lip quivers as his mouth forms around the commands, power bubbling in his veins as the small piece of you burns his insides; pain-laced pleasure threads through his every fiber, and he wants more.

Jimin follows your movements, watching as you strip off your long-sleeved shirt, tossing it aimlessly to the side before doing the same with your bra. You roll back onto your ass and kick your legs out in front of you across the bed and tear at the zipper and button on your jeans. It’s cute, the way you snarl and hiss at the offending denim as you wrestle it, along with your panties, down your legs. You finally kick free of them and, in the process, send a cloud of your heady arousal right into Jimin’s nose.

It’s enough to make him feral. The moment your last article of clothing falls to the floor, you splay yourself back on the bed, knees wide and arms extending above your head. Like a present, freshly unwrapped, and his to play with. Your hooded gaze meets his, like a challenge daring him to let his eyes drink their fill; and, oh boy, do they.

You are utterly divine. Jimin wants nothing more than to lick and kiss every inch of your striking skin, starting with the tender flesh behind your ear and ending with the points of your toes, mapping out your body like the temple that it is. Your nipples are tight peaks straining toward the ceiling, and your pussy lips are already slick and swollen with want; you paint the picture of perfect sexual carnality.

Jimin watches as your mouth tries to form his name. When it doesn’t come, a line forms between your brows, and you manage to gruff out a different word instead, “Demon.” It’s nowhere near as seductive as his name, but he’ll consider it a term of endearment all the same.

He chuckles, gripping your ankles and using a flex of strength to flip you around and position you on the bed just how he wants you. Your head hangs off the edge, hands raising in surprise to brace on his hips. Your chest rises and falls in quick succession, your breathing so harsh he can feel the thick exhale of your breath through the linen of his trousers.

“I’ll show you ‘demon’,” Jimin purrs seductively.

The button on his pants pops under his thumb, and the zipper slides down swiftly. Before Jimin can push them down, you’re hooking your fingers into the waistband of his pants and shoving them down. It’s an awkward angle for you; with your arms bent how they are, you only get them down his thighs. But, it’s enough. With a sway of his hips, Jimin gets his pants to drop to around his ankles.

He could use his power to disrobe instantly, but he finds this far more entertaining. Jimin revels in the slack-jawed look on your face as you take in his rigid length protruding in front of your face. The piercing in the tip glints in the ambient light, the first pearly string of his arousal already beaded and webbing along the silver ring.

Placing a thumb against your bottom lip, Jimin gently pries your jaw open until you’re stretched wide enough he can tease the tip of his cock inside. Your chest convulses, nostrils flaring as you continue to suck in greedy breaths through your nose, considering your mouth is growing fuller by the second as he continues to feed himself into the hot, wet confines. Using twin fistfuls of your violet hair, he holds you steady.

You swallow around him, the contracting of your throat sending tingles down Jimin’s spine and making his balls draw up as his whole body shudders. His control slips the tiniest bit, siphoning a sliver of your soul. It slams into him, causing him to jerk forward and drive even further into your throat, cutting off your air.

“Fuck!” Jimin roars, his eyes squeezing shut as he denies his body the release that nearly swept him away. This can’t be over yet; he’s just getting started.

😈😈😈

You gag, effectively choking on his cock as his pelvis presses flush against your chin, and you can feel his heavy balls crowd in close to your nose. There was a moment there, where you felt connected to him in a way that should scare you, but a different kind of fear quickly replaced that feeling. Panic looms heavy in your chest as your lungs protest the lack of air, but you can’t bring yourself to shove Jimin away.

It’s infuriating to be able to think his name but not be able to utter it aloud. “F-fuck you,” you rasp when he finally withdraws. Saliva strings from your parted lips to the glistening head and shaft of his cock, the tip heavily leaking pearlescent drops that mix with the glossy strands. His cloying taste lingers, and you want nothing more than to stretch your neck up and scoop those milky beads away with your tongue.

Every second since Jimin did whatever he did to you, you’ve barely had a hold on your desire to burrow into him, get beneath his skin, and pick away at his insides until you figure out how he ticks. You want to be inside of him and have him inside of you, anything to diminish what feels like a miles-deep trench between the two of you.

You’ve never felt such a visceral desire to fuck. It’s not that you’re a prude; if anything, you would consider yourself to have a healthy sexual appetite. However, this is different. This is you wholly and utterly wrecked, wanting Jimin in all possible ways.

“Oh, I plan to. But first—” Jimin teases, a wicked grin curling his plush lips. He forces you to watch upside down as he finishes disrobing. With each additional inch of flawless porcelain flesh he reveals, you grow wetter until you’re a whimpering, slick mess staring at his naked body, “—you’re going to choke on my cock some more while I taste that pussy.”

Jimin’s dirty words are like gasoline in your veins, and his hands slapping against the insides of your thighs to pry them open is the match. Heat boils beneath your skin, sweat beads and pools between your breasts, and glides down the slope of your neck to tickle your hairline.

Your mouth is open, and your tongue sticks out flat in welcome as Jimin juts his hips forward. The thick length of his cock slides past your lips, velvety smooth and tasting faintly of hot metal. His body molds along the front of yours, slick chest resting against your stomach.

The warm fan of his breath hits a second before the molten lick of his tongue slides from your clit to the cleft of your ass, his hands gripping the meat on the back of your thighs to raise your hips. Your scream at that initial contact is muffled by the thickness of his cock in your throat. Jimin buries himself in your esophagus, pistoning his hips in and out so relentlessly that you only manage tiny gasping breaths.

He doesn’t let up, pounding into your mouth with manic abandon. You have to brace your hands against his thighs, fingers digging into the muscles and nails leaving deep, crescent divots in the flesh. Sensations assault you from both ends as Jimin buries his face between your thighs.

Jimin feasts like a man—demon—starved. His tongue swirls, slides, and dips in intervals between his lips sucking and teeth dragging. Pleasure builds, starting at the base of your spine and moving up until even your tongue writhing on the underside of Jimin’s cock feels like a direct line to your clit.

“Mmf–uh!” you garble a moan that ramps into a shriek as your orgasm barrels through you.

“That’s right,” Jimin murmurs into the wet folds of your pussy, “cum all over my face and tongue, just like that.” He continues to lap at you, suckling and humming his delight.

He grunts and moans a litany of guttural words you can’t understand before emptying himself down your throat. Hips stuttering against your face, he throbs in your mouth, his piercing sliding along the roof of your mouth as he begins to pull out.

You lick your numb lips and work your aching jaw when Jimin fully withdraws from your mouth, but not before gripping the base of his swollen cock and tapping it against your tongue a few times, smearing his still-leaking arousal across your lips. You know you should feel mildly degraded, being used as a proverbial cum rag, but if anything, it turns you on even more.

“Fuck.” The word comes out like a whimper, your body clenching in the aftermath of one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever experienced.

Jimin chuckles, “I’m getting to that part.”

“What are you doing to me?” you ask breathlessly. It’s not a question you expect an answer to, more a rhetorical musing that drifts from your muddled brain. So, it surprises you when Jimin steps back and cradles your upside-down face between his hands, lifting your face until it’s inches from his.

His scarlet eyes have taken on a golden ring around the edges. They pulse in tandem with each of his breaths. “I’ve laid claim to you is what I’ve done. And before you even think about spouting off about the deal, being that you are to remain unharmed, you are. You can feel it, you know I’m speaking the truth. My claim on your soul has nothing to do with your well-being. If anything, you are now stronger and more resilient than you’ve ever been before.”

He’s right. You can feel it in your bones. Not just their additional strength but the way your muscles cling to them, and you’re sure they would neither snap nor tear no matter how far you bend them. You are no longer the delicate mortal you once were. And you’re not sure if you care, either.

If anything, the strength is addicting.

You. Want. More.

“More,” you tell Jimin. “I need more. Please.”

You’re pretty sure you would do anything at this point for another taste, another dose of whatever this is that’s now zinging beneath your skin. Jimin drops his hold on your face and stretches his arms in the air above his head, lithe body stretching in all its glory before you.

It’s rapturous watching the way his body moves. Wanting to see the vision of him properly, you roll over and push up onto your knees. Jimin slowly brings his arms back down, threading his fingers together in front of him and pushing his palms out. The distinct crack of his knuckles sends chills down your spine.

A predatory glint catches in his eyes, eliciting another visceral response from your body, this one of desire. Not caring how desperate you seem, you once again throw yourself at him, hands gripping and tugging until you’ve wrestled him on top of you on the bed. He lands in the valley between your thighs, and you wrap your legs around him, holding him in place.

“Tell me your name,” Jimin whispers in command, lips brushing over yours.

It forms on the tip of your tongue, your impulse to give him exactly what he wants. But, perhaps you’re not as far gone as you thought because you are able to resist this. Slowly, you shake your head, and a sly grin forms on your face.

“No.”

Jimin’s brow pinches and his top lip curls in what you’ve realized is a tell, indicating that his patience is thinning. You roll your hips against his, thrilled by how the action makes the line between his brows disappear, and his lips pop open with a soft grunt.

“You’re not the only one that’s clever here, Demon. If I can’t use your name, you won’t have mine.”

You can see the challenge in his eyes, the pure delight at the prospect of the battle ahead. “So be it, little mouse, but be warned: you’ll break long before I do.”

His mouth covers yours, silencing any protest you might have made to his statement. The vehement denial turns fleeting the instant his tongue presses between your lips and invades your mouth.

The tangy taste of your own arousal mixes with the intoxicating natural heat of the demon himself. He tastes like blood and ash but also like a crisp drink of water after days in the desert, both your salvation and your demise.

“Ah!” you yelp as Jimin fists a hand into your hair and cranes your head back, breaking the kiss and exposing the length of your neck to him.

“Pay close attention, pet. You don’t want to miss a second of this.” His words are murmured, so soft against your skin as he says them between open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat.

With every press of his mouth, his hips swivel in lazy circles that rub the thick shaft of his desire over your clit. It’s just enough pressure to drive you mad but not nearly enough to give you what you truly want.

Jimin takes first one nipple and then the other into the wet lock of his lips, lashing the pert tip with his tongue. The hand that was tugging your hair loosens, sliding down the side of your face before clasping around your neck like a five-fingered necklace.

You can feel the moment he begins to squeeze with his fingers and thumb, as they are so precisely placed on either side of your neck that they press against your jugulars. It creates a subtle pounding in your head, a lightheadedness that makes you hyper-aware of the way his teeth scrape over the tender flesh of your right breast before lightly piercing the skin.

A moan comes out in place of a scream as your body gives in to the depraved pleasure. This shouldn’t feel as good as it does, but it’s like Jimin is turning your entire body into one giant, throbbing erogenous zone. Pain is no longer something your body tries to pull away from. Instead, you find yourself arching your back so the points of his teeth pierce your flesh once more.

“F-fuck!” 

You can feel the heat of your blood pooling between your breasts for a moment before Jimin is lapping it up the same way he was licking at your pussy just moments ago. The sharp scent of hot copper punches the air when Jimin lifts his face and laughs, the sound dark and gravelly.

Peering down the slope of your nose the best you can, you catch a glimpse of his face before he dives back down to once again ravish the tight buds of your nipples. But that one glimpse is enough to paint a vivid picture of Jimin bathed in your blood, red eyes ringed in black, crimson smeared at the corners of his mouth, coating the tips of his teeth as he opened his mouth to laugh.

It does something to you, something primal and instinctive. Your body goes limp under him as your muscles coil before you snap. You throw your weight into him, shoving up with your hips and using the hold you have with your legs wrapped around him to your advantage. One moment, Jimin is buried between the mounds of your breasts, feasting on the tiny rivulets of crimson from his bites, and the next, he’s beneath you with a pleasant surprise on his bloody face.

“Look at you,” Jimin croons, his hands landing firmly on your hips. Using his hold, he undulates your hips, forcing the wet slit of your cunt to rub along the length of his dick, the ring in the tip catching on the hood of your clit with every pass. “You’re making a mess all over my cock.”

Bracing yourself on his chest, you let his hands encourage your hips with ease, luxuriating in the silky glide between your thighs. You’re relatively certain with just a few more minutes of this, and you could get yourself off, Jimin’s own pleasure be damned. But, it seems he picks up on that, and with a scoff, he uses his grip on your hips to force your body still.

“Don’t be an asshole!” you whine, digging your nails into the muscles of his chest. His dusky nipples stand out, and without thinking about it, you lean down and capture one between your teeth the same way he did yours. The skin pulls tight, and you love the sharp sound Jimin makes; something between a moan and a grunt.

A fist buries in your hair, and your head snaps back as Jimin wrenches you up, your teeth snicking free from his nipple. Black blood oozes from around the small rip in the bud, filling the hollow between his pecs and the notch at the base of his throat. The wound closes right before your eyes, sealing closed almost instantly. “Look at this mess. Clean it up,” Jimin growls low in his throat, the words barely above a whisper.

You immediately stick out your tongue, and with the grip on the back of your head, Jimin guides your mouth down to his chest. His blood is hot and thick, tasting strongly of rich spices, like the fiery notes of a mulled wine. You feel unhinged, so completely removed from who you were before Dom buried that little box in the woods. Maybe it’s delirium, and you’ve snapped, or perhaps this is just who you’ve always been…whatever it is, you can’t seem to stop.

Lips swollen and covered in demon blood, you leave a trail of macabre kisses up the length of Jimin’s neck before covering your mouth with his once again. The mix of your blood and his is heady and addicting, the perfect match of iron and spice.

“Why can’t I stop?” you whisper against Jimin’s lips, not giving him time to answer before you’re licking into his mouth again. “Why don’t I want to stop?”

😈😈😈

Jimin

You’re not the only one who doesn’t want to stop. It’s never been like this for Jimin before. He’s never once experienced something so raw and carnal. He is wholly and utterly fucked. Or, well, he will be in just…one…moment.

“Be a good girl and give us what we both want,” he commands you, using his grip on your hair to pull your lips off of his. “Ride my cock, and don’t stop until I tell you to.”

Jimin watches as you rear up, head cocked back because of his continued grip on your hair, reach between your thighs, and wrap your fingers around his rigid length. You stroke your hand up, thumb toying with the ring there, before sliding down. Continuing, you work your hand from root to tip a few more times until Jimin is sure he might explode.

The command to stop fucking around and start fucking him is on the tip of his tongue when you finally comply. You take him in one swift plummet, impaling yourself on his cock with a strangled cry that echoes through the room.

Cracks form in the dried blood around Jimin’s mouth. He can feel it pull and tug as his lips part with a groan. Your body moves over his, hips and tits bouncing. Loosening his hand in your hair, he slides it down at the same time he brings his other up. You fit perfectly in his hands, and the soft mounds of your breasts mold around his fingers as he squeezes them appreciatively.

“I can f-feel you so deep.” You’re mewling, panting and whining, the sounds a symphony of eroticism and pleasure to Jimin’s ears.

The bite marks on your chest have stopped bleeding, but Jimin still appreciates the way the dried crimson smears of his feasting look under his hands. Everything about your body drives him crazy and turns him into a barely-restrained animal.

The only reason he hasn’t shoved you face down on the bed and rutted you like a beast is because he wants to enjoy you a little bit longer before completely destroying you. He knows he would lose control of his abilities, gobbling down the rest of your soul in one gulp.

“Look at you, taking my cock so perfectly,” he grunts, digging his heels in and flexing his hips up as you drop down, forcing himself even deeper. You keen, increasing your pace as he continues to meet you stroke for stroke. Slipping his hands down, one latches on your hip, and the other presses to your lower belly, thumb finding your clit and swirling in precise circles.

“I, uh, fuck! I’m going to—”

The cresting of your orgasm cuts off your words. Your body shudders with the release, walls intensely contracting around his cock. Warmth floods Jimin’s body. He can feel every pulse of your body as if it’s begging for a reward.

Keeping his hold on you, he redoubles his effort, pistoning his hips into you at a manic pace. His thumb continues its assault on your clit, earning him delightful whimpers and moans from you.

“Give me another one. Fuck!” he grunts. Tears streak down your cheeks at the overstimulation, but your body gives him exactly what he wants by clamping down on his cock with your next orgasm.

Jimin can feel the way his tip pulses and his shaft grows engorged before his body succumbs to the pleasure, and he explodes, filling you so completely that torrents of cum leak from around his cock and string across his pelvis and your thighs.

The release rips his control to shreds and before Jimin can stop himself, he’s taking another hefty draft of your soul. It settles along the fibers of his being, coating his insides as thoroughly as he just coated yours.

There is no regret or remorse for the accidental slip. Jimin luxuriates in the euphoric aftermath. Post-soul sucking is nearly as good as post-orgasm, and he just so happened to experience both in the span of mere seconds. Reaching with one of his hands, he scoops a thick drop of cum up with his finger and lifts it to your mouth.

You don’t hesitate, wrapping your tongue around the offered digit. The moan you release is soft and sweet. Jimin drags you down, capturing your mouth once more in a devouring kiss.

He’s wholly and utterly satiated…for now.

He only hopes you’ll be as amiable to his new revelation because he’s finally made up his mind. Jimin plans to keep you…no matter what he has to do, no matter the words he’ll have to twist or who he will need to manipulate.

You will be his…

Forever.

😈😈😈

You try to resist Jimin as the weeks pass by, but your resolve is as formidable as wet paper. You’ve lost count of the times you’ve had him inside of you—welcomed him within the confines of your body and subsequently fed him slivers of your soul.

After a while, you begin to seek it out…hungry for his touch or rousing him with your lips around his cock, swallowing whatever he’ll give you. It’s unclear where the line was or when you crossed it, but here you are…lost in some in-between limbo.

You roll over, shoving away from Jimin’s naked body, and slide off the bed, his taste still clinging to your tongue. You’re still feeling the aftereffects of whatever just happened. Whatever it was, it wasn’t sex. At least, not regular sex. It was something…just something else.

Each time, it feels like a whole new experience. He shows you something you never thought possible and has you so wrung out you forget to question it. You can still feel him inside you, not just the phantom girth of his cock, but somewhere deeper. It’s like he’s permanently etched onto your bones now. As weird as that sounds, it’s exactly how it feels.

Crossing the expanse of his room, you stare at yourself in the mirror above an ornate chaise. You prod a finger beneath your eye, pulling the bottom lid down. No matter how much you poke and rub, the distinct red ring circling your pupil doesn’t go away.

From what little Jimin has told you over the weeks about what’s happening, you understand that you’re now a few pieces of your soul lighter. He assured you that you’re unharmed and as long as things go well, then when the deal with Dominique is complete, your soul will be restored…if you want it to be. Those were his exact—cryptic—words.

If you want it to be?

“What is that supposed to mean?” you ask, not for the first time.

Jimin shrugs, not having to ask you what you mean because somehow he has this innate ability to just know what’s on your mind. His nonchalance as he lounges against a mound of pillows on the bed grates. He’s acting like a cat that’s gotten the cream…and you suppose, maybe he has.

“It means exactly what it means.”

Dropping your hand from your face, you turn and bracket your bare hips with your hands, eyes narrowing in his direction. His answers are nonanswers, and no matter how much you try to muster anger at him over it…it doesn’t come.

You’re frustrated, yes. But anger isn’t something you’re able to grasp right now for some reason, and that should make you even more angry…yet, it’s as if you’re incapable of mustering one ounce of vitriol.

“Why can’t I get mad at you?” you ask instead of pressing your previous question, hoping maybe he’ll afford you some semblance of an acceptable answer.

Jimin laughs softly. “Because you don’t want to. And before you open that pretty mouth of yours to tell me differently…think really hard about it, and you’ll see that I am right. You love being here. Dare I say you might even love me.”

Now you’re the one laughing, though it’s a bit more hollow than you intend. “That’s absurd.” You taste the lie on your tongue as soon as you say it. “Go to hell,” you mutter under your breath.

“Already here, sweetheart.” Jimin slinks off the bed, very reminiscent of the way a serpent moves, all smooth lines and sinuous fluidity. “You’ll find some new clothes in the chifferobe. Get dressed unless you want to go to your little rendezvous like that.” His eyes sweep your naked body, and you can feel the intensity at which they smolder.

To avoid potentially missing your meet up with Dom, you rip your gaze from his and approach the aforementioned wardrobe. Within, you find an entire arsenal of clothes, all in your sizes. That’s one thing you’ve grown to really enjoy: the pure magic of the endless possibilities. You can have anything you want as long as it doesn’t go against Jimin’s wants and desires.

 You may have put on a fashion show or two at the expense of Jimin’s powers. With a simple snap of his fingers, he'd manifest it for you no matter how ridiculous the garment. It’s helped to pass the time. Between the endless fucking and having nothing better to do, well…

It’s been a month since that fateful night with your best friend at the crossroads. A lot can happen in a month. A lot that you’d never have expected. The muttered assurances and pleas you made to one another before you left with Jimin linger in your mind. Her promise to find a way to free you, your unfailing belief and assurance that she would and could do it.

And now? Well, now…you’re not so sure. Should you want to escape your ten-year fate? Probably. Do you? The jury is still out. There is one thing you do know, though. Every day you spend here with Jimin is one more day you get to enjoy the power and grace of whatever connection there is between you. You get to lose yourself in the contours and planes of his impossibly immaculate body; whether it’s human or not, you’ve decided you don’t really care because it just feels too fucking good.

The red ring in your eyes is a small price to pay in the grand scheme of it all. Your fingers flick over some of the newer garments, taking in the sleek feel of silk and the soft brush of leather. Everything in here exudes sex. Something you might have once been embarrassed by, but not now.

Grabbing an off-the-shoulder emerald silk top, you pair it with a simple pair of black jeans. The thick-soled Docs you wore the night of the deal go on after you pull on a pair of socks. The lilac of your hair has remained despite the numerous times you’ve washed it over the last month. Jimin just chuckled and fingered a lock of your hair when you asked him about it, saying something about how much he likes the color on you.

You’ve chalked it up to a flex of his power. After the first week of oddities, you stopped questioning it. The bathing chamber connected to his room offers a variety of luxury products, none of them ever seem to run out. Jimin enjoys soaking in a bath, something you’ve done with him more than a handful of times after a rough but fun session. Sessions such as dirtying up his sheets—which are always pristine and clean once more with just a flick of his wrist.

That little taste of power may make you no longer eager to escape your situation. Who you were before, the responsibilities you held, the people in your life…they all seem like a dream now, hazy and unclear. With the exception of Dominique, of course.

You’re excited to see your friend, but that’s about as far as your enthusiasm goes. Sighing, you turn to face Jimin. Who, in the span of however long it took you to get ready, has cleaned the entire room and dressed himself in a suit similar to the one he wore the night you met him.

His black hair is mussed in a way that looks sexy, tendrils falling from the coif to frame his ruby-colored eyes. Eyes that you have lost yourself in countless times and that are starting to mirror your own. You watch as a cherry lollipop appears in his hand, the wrapper already gone. It shouldn’t be so seductive, the way he using his tongue to seat the candy past his teeth. But you’re desperately turned on by the display.

“Fuck you,” you gruff, knowing he’ll deny you if you proposition him for a quickie before the meeting because it’s never just a quickie with Jimin. No, he turns anything into a full-blown, hour-long experience. Not that you’re complaining.

“Don’t pout…or do. I like the way it makes your lips poke out.” Jimin gestures toward you with the lollipop. “I’ll make it up to you when we return, little mouse. Promise.” He pops the stick into his mouth once more and then holds out his hand to you, one eyebrow raising in silent command.

It doesn’t hurt, necessarily, sliding through the space between Jimin’s world and the other—the one you used to call home. Used to? You’re not sure when that became the distinction.

The moment your feet find the solid ground of the crossroads clearing, you anticipate a forlorn feeling or for an intense desire for salvation to slam into you. Only, it doesn’t come. But maybe seeing Dominique will be the key; unlock the floodgates or something.

She appears a few minutes later. The sound of her boots crunching through the underbrush draws your eyes to the two trees across the clearing through which you followed her just a month ago.

Dominique yells your name before breaking out into a run. Jimin squeezes your fingers where his hand is still wrapped around yours. In all the time you’ve been with him, you still haven’t given him your name. But, now…he knows.

Irritation colors your insides. You snatch your hand from his, earning a soft chuckle from him, and try to plaster on a smile as Dom closes the distance and throws her arms around your neck.

“Oh my gods, oh my gods, oh my gods,” she chants, voice on the verge of hysterics. “Let me,” she begs, her hands sliding to your shoulders so she can hold you at arm's length. Her eyes sweep you from head to toe, clearly checking to make sure you’re unharmed.

“Not a hair out of place, I believe, is what you said,” Jimin says coyly. “Even the color is the same.”

Dominique ignores him, keeping her focus on you. “Your eyes,” she whispers. “What happened to your eyes?”

“Side effect of my time there.” You shrug. “I’m okay, Dom, really.”

When you were first taken, that would have felt like a lie. Now, however, it’s so far from that. You are okay—more than. You glance at Jimin over your shoulder, trying to gauge whether or not he’s listening. He’s absently twirling the lollipop's stick and humming softly, seemingly wholly tuned out.

Still, you let Dominique pull you further away. She pitches her voice low, pulling you in for another hug to disguise the fact she pushes her mouth close to your ear and whispers, “I’ve figured it out. Grann knows a way we can entrap the demon. All I need is his true name. Do you know it?”

You’ve been able to say it for the last two weeks now since Jimin lifted the demand for you not to use it, but for some reason, you don’t want to tell her, so it doesn’t feel like a betrayal. You subtly shake your head. “Sorry.”

“Fuck. Okay. I know you didn't ask for this, but you're handling this better than I thought you would. I mean, I was prepared for something like this for me, but you had no idea what would happen. Not that I think you’re handling it better than I would…I just, yeah, I’m glad you’re alive.”

Dominique pulls back a little so she can look into your eyes but still remain close. The skin around her eyes is darker, her hair a bit disheveled and the purple strands completely faded and washed out. She looks tired, exhausted, really. But what she just said sparks something in you, tickles a niggling you had in the back of your mind from a month ago that resurfaces now. She was prepared for something like this for herself? Interesting. Before you can think further on the matter, Dom sighs heavily, and your attention draws back to her tired expression.

You pause for a beat, waiting for the concern and love for your friend to come crashing down on you. Much like your anger, it doesn’t so much as tickle through your mind. If anything, you’re feeling restless and eager to finish up this meeting and return to Jimin’s quarters in the Obsidian Fortress. Quarters that, you realize now, feel more like home than Dominique’s arms do.

“Maybe I can try, though. For next time.” You try to offer her somewhat of a reassuring smile, but you’re not sure it lands. Her eyes flick over your face, searching…for what, you’re unsure. Whatever she finds there, though, must satisfy her enough that she nods.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers.

“I’ve missed you, too, Dom. You need to take care of yourself. Can’t rescue me if you can barely keep your feet.”

😈😈😈

Jimin

“...rescue me…”

Jimin admits he was barely paying attention. His own fault, really. But those two words ring in his ears as if you’d shouted them for the entire world to hear. He had really thought you were coming around, enjoying your time with him.

But this? You’re still maintaining some sort of fantasy where your little witchy friend comes to your rescue? Oh, that makes Jimin’s blood boil. How dare you. He’s done nothing but satisfy your every gods damned need and desire.

His plan for forever jumps right to the forefront of his mind. Apparently, he can’t continue to dawdle over this. It’s time to make his move, consequences be damned.

Jimin watches as you giggle and chat with your friend, completely unaware of the fury brewing a few feet away from you. He hopes you’re enjoying yourself because this will be the last time you ever do this again.

The hour drags by. But, when it’s finally time to say goodbye, it doesn’t take much effort on his part. If he hadn’t overheard the little bit of your conversation earlier, he’d almost think you were coming to him willingly—eager, even.

After the fifth time Jimin tasted your soul, he found it hard to read you. Your mind was closed to him; otherwise, he would shove right in and scour it for any morsel of information. Clearly, he’s coddled you too much. So unbecoming of a demon, and there’s only one way he can think to rectify his folly and move forward with his plan all at once…one way—or demon, more precisely—that can give him what he wants; the deal with Dominique be damned.

😈😈😈

It feels right, sliding your hand into Jimin’s. You give Dominique one final, half-hearted wave, and then your breath is stolen by the sensation of falling. It sweeps through your belly, and when you blink, you expect to see Jimin’s lavish room, but instead, you’re somewhere else, somewhere colder and more bleak.

“Where are we?” you ask.

“Jimin, what a pleasant surprise,” comes a dark, familiar voice behind you. Chills cascade down your spine, replacing the confusion from seconds before. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Jimin tightens his grip on your hand and turns, pulling you with him to face the same being from the first day you were brought to this realm. “I have a favor to ask.”

Coal-black eyes meet yours, and they widen in surprised delight. “My, my, Jimin, you’ve been busy, haven’t you? And yet, her soul is still mostly intact. Restraint and commitment, I’m impressed. What’s the favor?”

“I want to keep her.”

“Keep me?” you ask, startled by this revelation. 

Ignoring you, Jimin continues, “Forever. Dissolve my deal, make her mine in all ways.”

“Interesting,” the dark figure coos. “So very interesting.” With a swirl of dark fabric and smoke, he’s standing before you, so close you can see the purple-black pallor around his eyes and the fine points of his teeth as he smiles. “Mm, I’m intrigued. What’s brought about this request?”

Jimin opens his mouth but closes it again before clearing his throat and tightening his grip on your hand. “I’ve taken a liking to…her.”

“More than a liking, it seems,” Dark Lord chuckles. “Though, it doesn’t seem like you really need my interference. She seems willing enough.”

“What?” Jimin asks, finally looking at you for the first time since pulling you here. “But, I heard—”

“What she wanted the human to hear.”

A long, pale finger hooks under your chin and angles your head, tilting your face from side to side. “Yes, quite willing. Isn’t that so, kitten? Ah-ah, don’t lie to us.”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“If she’s a willing soul, then there is no need for protection. By that account, the deal is void,” he continues, slowly examining your face. “All you need to do is take it all…every drop of her willing soul.”

Without responding, Jimin whisks you away. You suddenly find yourself standing in the middle of Jimin’s room, with him standing right in front of you and his eyes boring into yours so intently.

“Say it.”

“Say what?” you ask.

Jimin gathers you against his chest, arms banding around your waist. “Tell me he’s right.”

“He’s right, Jimin. I’m willing. I-I don’t know…what happened, or when…maybe you’ve manipulated me somehow, and this is all your doing—but, fuck, somehow he’s right.”

His reply is hesitant, uncertain, “You want to be with me?”

Instead of reassuring him once again, you turn the question back on him. “Only if you want to be with me. Tell me I’m more than just part of a demon deal, that I’m not some coveted prize that you’re going to toss away in ten years.”

“No, no, I’d never do that. Even if I had to force you, I’d have never let you go.” At least he has the sense to look sheepish at admitting he’d use force if necessary.

“Wouldn’t that have hurt you somehow, breaking the deal?” Worry creases your brow, even at the mere thought.

Jimin shrugs, pulling you impossibly closer. His warm breath fans over your face as he says, “What’s a few years of punishment in the sanguine pits for breaking a deal compared to an eternity with you?”

You can’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head at the crazy turn of events. “So, what now?” you ask, voice a little shaky at the sudden prospect of what he might say.

“Say it again,” he requests, breathy and fervent in his need to hear it once more, just to be sure.

It comes naturally now, saying precisely what you want.

“I’m willing.”

Jimin responds by cupping your face in his hands and slanting his mouth over yours. You recognize it the instant he starts to sip from your soul. With deep, long swallows, Jimin pulls at that little place inside you…and you let him.

You open yourself to him, accepting this as your fate. Maybe he truly did manipulate you and took away your free will all those weeks ago, but right now, in this moment, you can’t bring yourself to care. Because it feels right…this feels right.

“Sweet, sweet soul,” Jimin murmurs against your mouth. He’s greedy, tongue and lips working as he continues to taste you through the last few drops. “You’re now mine forever, little mouse.”

With eyes of vermillion and honey, you come alive…perhaps for the first time in your life.

All because your friend buried a box.

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[felonytaxevasion]

For the record here are my other Undersider drunken karaoke night picks I think about this situation a normal amount (lie)

Round 1 - No One Has Added Underage Drinking To Their Daily Crime Journal Yet

Lisa - Lisa starts everyone off with California Girls because she is, in her heart, A California Girl She's Undeniable Daisy Dukes Bikinis on Top. Lisa is probably the closest thing the Undersiders have to a good singer but she's totally hamming it up here to break the ice in hopes Taylor will participate

Aisha - Every single Rihanna album has gone platinum in Aisha Laborn's bedroom and she will take any opportunity to make this fact known. I think she would pick Only Girl In The World because Aisha really feels like Rihanna made that one just for her specifically. Not a singer with technical expertise but she brings the most passion and joy to her performances

Brian - As stated in an earlier post he picks Bruno Mars Beautiful Girls All Over The World, possibly Just The Way You Are. He did not pick them to serenade Taylor specifically but at one point he does make eye contact with Taylor during the chorus and it embarrasses them both. Aisha pretends to vomit.

Alec - picks the exact same song as Brian and does it worse in every way. Intentionally makes eye contact with each of the Undersiders making sure to really draw out Brian's turn

Taylor - Peer pressured enough to participate but not enough to choose a song she actually likes and listens to in fear of being judged. She performs Fireflies by Owl City with real fireflies and it's equal parts charming and horrifying. Lisa cheers too loudly and Alec hides behind Brian and Rachel from the bugs. Taylor vows to never perform at karaoke again

Rachel - refuses to participate

Round 2 - Everyone is Slightly Tipsy

Lisa - Lisa performs Girls Just Want To Have Fun and gets really into it. She only hits half of the high notes but she tries really hard to hit all of them. It's the closest thing to an impressive performance any of them achieve all night

Brian - cuts in front of Aisha to perform Free Bird by Lynyrd Skynyrd. Performs all nine minutes even while Aisha boos him and also sings the guitar solos. Experiences joy and whimsy for the first time in months

Aisha - Don't Trust Me by 3OH3. While singing the line "I'm a vegetarian and I ain't fucking scared of him" she gets too excited and flings a bracelet off knocking a glass off a table and shattering it. This does not slow her performance for even a second

Alec - Friday by Rebecca Black. Very pleased with the negative reaction this inspires. Aisha tries to chase him off the stage and the latter half of the song is just them wrestling for the microphone

Taylor and Rachel decline to participate and instead sit in the corner and whisper gay things the whole round

Round 3 - Completely Lost In The Sauce Wasted

Lisa - Incredibly Solemn and Serious rendition of Video Games by Lana Del Rey. Alec dims the lights and everyone sans Rachel wave their cellphone flashlights for her

Alec - Alec has spent the entire night lying and telling Aisha he can sing all the words to Rap God by Eminem. He messes up the words in the first verse immediately. Laughs through the rest of the performance and accidentally makes up a new word that becomes he and Aisha's new terrible "inside joke" they insist on saying every five minutes for the next month

Brian - Low by Flo Rida. Does a whole dance routine to go along with it. Everyone except Aisha has a GREAT time

Aisha - Super Bass by Nicki Minaj. High off the excitement of his last performance Brian performs along and completely steals the show. This leads to the first bout of drunken crying (Aisha. Immediately followed by Brian) followed by drunken declarations of love and affirmation

Eventually the affirmations lead to Taylor agreeing to singing one more song so long as every Undersider individually promises her they won't make fun of her. She picks This Is War by Thirty Seconds to Mars because she is a terrible angsty teenager in 2011 and she sings it very badly. Everyone stills cheers for her though and it is a very good finale

On the way home they get Rachel to agree to do the barks if the rest of them sing Who Let The Dogs Out acapella. This footage is captured by street cams and the footage of the teenage warlords walking down the street barking is presented as a "twisted intimidation tactic" by the PRT for the next three years

[meraki-yao]

RWRB Movie Thoughts: Philip

Honestly I might be the only one, but I wanna know more about Philip in the movie. And at the very least, I am begging for a redemption arc in the sequel.

Because they fucking cut the Kensington Breakfast scene, we barely get any of Philip in the movie. And the consequence is while we know that just like the book, Philip is an antagonistic character, we're not sure about his stance on the matter.

So the thing is Philip in the book isn't homophobic. And by that I mean that in the most generous sense: Queen Mary straight up says it's unnatural, which is the textbook definition of homophobia, but Philip says, and I quote from Henry "Essentially, I gathered that he was not surprised to discover I am not the heterosexual heir I'm supposed to be, but rather surprised that I do not intend to keep pretending to be the heterosexual heir I'm supposed to be" and from the man himself "I don't care if you're gay, I care that you've made this choice with him, someone with a fucking target on his back, to be so stupid and naive and selfish as to think it wouldn't completely fuck us all!"

Philip isn't necessarily against the concept of homosexuality, he's against bringing that into their family, and is worried about the conservatives turning their backs on them because of that. In a way, his stance is closer to the King in the movie than the Queen in the book.

Other stuff we can learn about Philip from the book:

he's...kind of racist, but in the form of microaggressions (his comments on Pez during Wimbleton)

He is genuinely in love with Martha, and he's kind of a hen-pucked husband (his retelling of his and Martha's suitor photos)

He started off a people pleaser, then the Queen took that and made him an asshole (explanation of why the change of attitude after Alex and Henry's photoshoot)

He wanted Arthur's approval but never got it, and resents Arthur a bit because of that (his argument with Henry before they met with the queen)

He wants to get along with his siblings, he just kept doing it the wrong way

My point is, even though a relatively minor character, Philip's motivations and character is actually painted out pretty logically if you take a closer look. His redemption in the book, his change of attitude, it makes sense if you looks back on it.

And while I can't fault the movie for cutting down details like these, this is just the way adaptation works and Matthew did an excellent job of picking and choosing, it does leave space for questions and curiosity.

The only thing I can get out of movie Philip is 1, he also loves his wife, since they're childhood sweethearts 2, the King dismisses him 3, he didn't know Henry was gay at all.

From the deleted Breakfast scene bts from Taylor and Thomas, we know that Philip is in that scene, and that Philip sees something, and is in shock.

Bur from the bts of the Thanksgiving scene, he and Martha are at the Brownstone: he's forgiven.

So here are my questions:

Is Philip homophobic in this one? Or is he also more mad about the family aspect?

Does he, at any point in the 65 deleted scenes, act like he wants to be a brother? Like he genuinely cares about his siblings

What is he reacting to during the Breakfast scene? In the book, when Henry came out to him it was just him, Henry and later Shaan, but the Breakfast has all of the Super Five there. Is he really gonna make a scene in front of all five of them?

Why is he forgiven? What is his change of heart?

I don't know, I think it's probably just me who's wondering about him of all people. But I would really like to see more of Thomas in this role (the photobooth shoots he did with Nick and Ellie, peak sibling energy) and I'm just really interested in Henry's family dynamic in the movie-verse, given that I feel like it's less black-and-white and more... realistic? than the book? There's also part of me that's somewhat sympathetic towards Philip despite being a Henry-coded girl because I feel like if I was a less feeling person, I might have ended up just like him.

Anyway, yeah. Philip redemption arc in the sequel please!!!