#people without inner monologues are fun to watch read because most of them mouth the words they're reading

[thevoidstaredback]

Did you know that only 30%-50% of the world's population has an inner monologue?

Did you know that only 1%-3% of the world's population cannot see pictures in there head?

I fall into both of those categories. I do have an inner monologue, and I can't actually see pictures in my head.

So when I say anything along the lines of "I can see that" or "I can imagine that" I'm partly lying. I have to see a picture of what you want me to see before I can actually imagine it, y'know?

For example, you can describe to me, in great detail, your OC or a scene from a book. Unless you have a picture I can reference, I can't actually put those details together in my head to form a picture.

Does that make sense?

Anyway

[bigskydreaming]

Hot take that all of the bats are theatre kids but on varying ends of the spectrum. Like Dick? 110% the legitimate performer. Jason? Just here cause he's weirdly obsessed with Shakespeare. Tim is the kid manning the stage effects. I haven't broken down the rest of them yet but I know in my bones that it works. Stephanie's probably a diva or always plays the fool

Yessssssss. Theater is absolutely the one thing that could unite them. Chaotically. Also potentially disastrously. Eh, semantics.

But Dick is of course a ham and I do believe he genuinely enjoys ‘taking a break from himself’ to immerse himself behind a cover identity.....but more than that, I honestly believe he’d love directing and putting his skills with coaxing potential out of people individually or in groups to use for something purely hobby-ish. 

Jason I also see as someone who potentially could love acting for a similar reason I see as behind his love of reading....its the vacation from the self or his own life, the trip in someone else’s shoes or story. Through books, and also acting, the ‘you can be anything you set your mind to’ thing has actual practicality. 

Tim I could see enjoying being the tech guy, but also I could see him liking the directing side of things too, or actually lots of different parts of the process, from script to stage.....like, I dislike when fandom focuses overly much on Tim as the tech guy because it tends to go hand in hand with acting like everyone else but Babs is clueless at such stuff, and also death to the instinctive correlation between smarts and tech like that’s the only possible place to showcase genius or the obvious go-to for how to show a smart person is smart, death to that I say, death and murder and also annihilation. But more than that its that IMO its not tech that Tim likes/focuses on in particular, its workshopping stuff. Taking something from idea to fruition, and being responsible for shepherding its progress every step of the way. 

Cass of course loves dancing and everything to do with it, but another headcanon I’ve always had is that Cass potentially could love choreographing dance. If dance appeals to Cass because its spoken in her first language, that of movement and the body, think about the potential that lies in not just the fact that dance innately is meant to put everyone else for once on the same page as her, watching the dancer for the story they’re telling with their movements.....but through choreographing others, Cass has the opportunity to tell stories of her own for other people to ‘hear’....again, in that same language so to speak. To communicate through others’ movements the way others’ movements normally just speak to her.

Damian I could see a case being made for him gravitating to literally any aspect of theater first out of his innate competitiveness....if his siblings have a skill, he wants to prove its perfectly within his own capabilities as well....but then discovering that oh no, he actually likes a lot of this, what trickery is this, he has been bamboozled, clearly Grayson is behind this, this....insidious attempt to....make him do things just because he “enjoys” them. What utter rot. And other such thoughts and inner rantings that all just further provide proof that this boy was BORN to monologue, and oh look, a stage for such monologues. Also, stage combat? Okay, having to pull his actual punches irks, but the applause for knocking a class rival to the ground instead of censure because he was directed to, look its literally in the script......that’s a plus. Because Damian’s unique form of middle-school Machiavellianism is such that he absolutely would audition for a role for no other reason than the role calls for doing something terrible to the character of someone he immensely dislikes (or just finds tedious, hey its a spectrum), and getting to spend a couple hours every week doing so is catharctic in a way the family isn’t entirely sure they want to encourage but hey, can’t argue with results.

Duke I also could see taking a lot of different routes, but I think he’s another one who would do really well in the director’s chair, coaxing potential classmates didn’t even know they had out of a performance. In the sense that yeah, I think he’s one of the closest to Dick personality wise so a lot of the reasons I see that being ideal for Dick are why I see it working for him as well, but also just like....the way it naturally calls back to the fact that part of his meta powers is he literally boosts the powers of other metas. He has a knack for bringing stuff out of people.

Stephanie is the understudy that’s just there to goof off and have fun, its a nice, relaxing A and that’s the only reason she’s in theater class or using drama club as an extracurricular that can afford her skipping a rehearsal or two or three.....but for all her big talk of “Pffft, nerds, I just came for the stage combat class and stayed because I forgot what else I was going to do’.....she just happens to know all the lines and mouths them along with the actors on stage and gets personally offended when they mess up because they’re doing it BADLY and ugh are they trying to suck this hard or are they just naturally gifted at that part, here, lemme show you how its done, and that’s how she accidentally rom-com scenarios her way into being the star of the show two hours before curtain call or else the plucky impromptu interim director when the real one quits in a fit of high school theater histrionics, or y’know, is made to quit when Stephanie incites a mutiny among the cast because that’s kinda plausible to tbh. Look, there are options here is all I’m saying.

And then Babs as well I see as being not so much in a particular single role at the exception of all others, but whatever puts her most in the driver’s seat of taking something from idea to opening night, like starting with a script maybe, hell even just the line producer or script supervisor, and then accidentallying her way into more and more creative responsibilities and control because the parts just start to come together more easily/readily when she’s rearranging the pieces into orders and in ways that make more sense to others and they find themselves gravitating to, because maybe this was just a local community thing people were doing for fun or to blow off steam but without even noticing a change it starts to take more and more shape as an actual thing as she finds her groove and sees how to improve on this scene here or tighten up things here or what happens when these two actors swap roles and then almost belatedly people are like oh wait, this doesn’t just HAVE to be fun hobby shenanigans this could also be something actually good too, weird thought, hey did anyone else know things could be both fun AND good? Is this a thing or are we in uncharted waters here.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “The Wrath of Conn.”

Lol, I couldn’t resist. Anyway this is for the multitude of you Conn groupies who wanted a little something form his perspective. Well cue a couple pages of him sort of being an asshole. But also it is totally plot relevant so there is that. 

Hope you all enjoy. This was actually kind of difficult to write, and I had to re-write it at least once :) 

The ship was a strange place now, months had gone by without his presence, and without his connection to their thoughts, and in that time, things had changed. Conn wasn’t entirely sure he appreciated it, but only because that meant he had to re-gather all the information he had originally collected on his human crew members to begin with.

It had been a difficult few months, the most difficult the ship had ever experienced. Conn wasn’t exactly displeased at that fact considering that it was the collective fear and horror from the Cannibal incident that had finally broken him out of his Coma, but he was also displeased to find that things had changed somewhat. Conn didn’t lie change, especially the change that he saw within the Commander. The only person aboard the ship that he could actually communicate with mind to mind.

Well actually scratch that, there were a few others he could speak with, but currently the weighed about fifteen pounds and had language ability so rudimentary it was like trying to talk with the dog. 

Regardless, the last few months  had absolutely ruined what tentative trust the two of them had garnered. 

After returning to the ship, and after putting the Commander into a sort of psychological coma to deal with shock, a HAZMAT team from earth had been called to deal with the issue. Ensuing autopsies had proven that the crew had, in fact, been eating each other despite their being plenty of food left in storage. The remaining survivor, who the commander had been forced to kill in self defense was one Captain Everett Malaney Ex UNSC officer and current freelance ship contractor for both tourist and colonist divisions. By all right he had been an upstanding decision. 

His autopsy had shown that advanced scurvy including kidney failure was the main reason for his monstrous appearance, bruised skin, thinning hair, infected gums and so on. As for the behavior of the crew, it could only be put down to some sort of exaggerated mass hysteria when people realized they would likely die alone in space billions of miles from home in the blackness of space.

Commander Vir had been….. Ok at that point,  but the subsequent venture into a border-world prison had shattered his already cracked composure.

Conn was the only one who had been able to experience the fall from the man’s own perspective. Watching inside his head as he careened into a psychological spiral that had eventually brought them to the earth for treatment. 

Generally conn would have said that he totally didn’t care about anyone’s mental status, and he still would say the same upon being prompted, but this was something that needed to be taken care of and it needed to be done quickly. It wasn’t his fault he was the only one who would truly be able to handle it.

So there he floated in the darkness of early morning, down the hall and towards the mess hall, a ghost town in the early morning devoid of both the sleeping crew-members and the skeleton crew who were off working at their perspective jobs.

He could sense five minds on approach to the room. Three rudimentary and childish minds, and one completely alien guided primarily by smell and hearing. She was the one to  sense his first, with that powerful nose of hers. She didn’t like his smell, it was a burning and caustic thing that made her uneasy, and generally caused her to sneeze.

The next to notice were the spiderlings underdeveloped noses that were already almost as good as the dogs. They were strange creatures to be sure and Conn wasn’t sure how he thought about them.

Tendrils billowing at his back he floated into the room. 

With a whine of agitation, the dog lifted her head from where she had been grooming one of the spiderlings cradled between her two forward paws. Her tongue was still out from where she had been dragging it down the monstrosity’s back. Finally recognizing that he wasn’t going to leave she went back to her grooming. The soft scritch scritch scritch sound of her tongue on fur echoing around the room. She hadn’t originally known how to feel about the spiderlings, but they did smell oddly like Adam, and they looked enough like puppies that she could almost ignore the fact that they had extra legs.

He floated a bit closer to where the commander was sitting alone at one of the tables pen in hand making soft scratching noises as it moved across the paper.

Clinging to his back, like some sort of grotesque backpack, was another one of those little monstrosities. This one’s name was Glados, and Conn was almost sure that she was entirely a creation of anger and hatred aggressively protective of the commander even more so now that they considered his current psychological state.

Conn was only halfway across the room when the scratching of the pen slowed.

Adam paused, and Conn listened as a chill went up the man's spine. He could feel something watching him. And Conn marveled at that fact not entirely sure how the human could know that he was here when he had made no noise. Glados turned her head and hissed at him, but Conn flicked at her with his mind making her shrink back with a whimper.

Setting down his pencil, Adam turned slowly in his seat.

His expression registered absolutely no shock upon seeing Conn floating towards him. On the surface, he looked older as if he had aged ten years in the past month. He was slightly disheveled too hair mussed over his head, skin pale, with dark circles under his eyes. Everything about him seemed washed out.

“Conn.”  The man said, his voice echoing about the room. It was soft, flat, and uncharacteristic of him.

Conn paused glancing through the man’s mind to get a good look at the paper. His vision wasn’t so good in the dark confines of the ship. Generally his species spent much of its time in the direct light of stars, so much of his world was seen through other people’s heads. He saw the sketchy line drawing of a zombie head with hesitant crosshatched marks of shading.

:”Still haven't bothered to tell your therapist about that?” Conn projected into his mind.

He felt a sudden flash of anger in the man before it faded away dimmed as soon as it had come. That fact made Conn displeased.

He didn’t like the man without some sort of passion, and if he couldn't get happiness he would have settled for anger.

Not that he cared of course.

“No…. I haven’t.”

“Why not?”

“You should already know the answer to that.” The commander said turning back to his drawing, “Go on, I know you’ve already looked.”

Of course Conn had taken a look. 

“Why do you insist on getting over this yourself when someone payers her a truckload of cash to help. It seems stupid and prideful.”

“Keep going.” The man prompted.

“Well consider now that I am here you no longer have privacy, so there is no reason to try and hide it anymore.”

There was a deep sigh, and the man tilted back his head. Inside Conn could hear his inner monologue urging his anger down. Conn couldn’t understand what kind of privacy invasion this was, in fact he should have seen this coming, but he still didn't want to explain himself to the strange creature and it’s freaky black eyes.

“Why do you want me to explain myself when you can just read my mind anyway. Why do you need to hear it from me.”

“I don’t need to hear anything, you need to hear it.”

The man paused setting down his pencil and turning again to look at Conn, one of his eyebrows was raised and the expression he had taken on was almost one of a disapproving father, which was a strange expression on a man that spends most of his time in the mental headspace of a 12 year old.

“Why do you care.” 

Con kicked his feet a little causing himself to float upwards towards the ceiling, “ I don’t care accept for your constant inner pity party is putting me off my relaxation time. I did just wake up from a coma after all, and the last thing I want is to have to deal with your dysfunctional thoughts invading my snooping. You see it is very difficult to dig up juicy secrets on the rest of the crew when your ‘oh woe is me’ attitude keeps breaking into my concentration.”

Another little spark of anger, this time a little stronger.

yes , that was good, better to have to moving out and being destructive that way than moving in. However, the human locked down his troughs with an angry twist of his lips, “Will it get you out of my head.”

“Alright.”

“What do I need to do.”

“Nothing really. I am going to say something to you and you are going to respond, that’s it.”

The human hesitated his chin lowered a bit, but eventually he sat back arms crossed, “Ok seems easy enough.”

“Bitch”

The human frowned, “Hold on.”

“Bitch.”

“Hey,” Another flash of anger, “What the hell kind of statement is that.”

“Whiny pathetic bitch.”

The human stood, “Hold on, I said I would play your game, and then you just come at me with insults.” That little spark was growing inside his chest heating up nice and warm. Conn could almost feel it as if it was his own. He liked the sensation. Human emotions were so fun to feel, so fun to play with. They gave him physical sensations he was physically incapable of having.

“Whiny- pathetic - bitch.” he repeated 

“You know what Conn screw you and the horse you rode in on because I have no idea where you are getting this.”

“Really. Someone once told me that actions speak louder than words and here you are moaning to your therapist about how hard your life is, and how hard it is to sleep and how hard everything is wa wa…. Wa.”

The human thrust a finger at him, “You shut your trash mouth. I am not going to be shamed for getting myself help. What I had to go through was rough, and I wasn’t ready for it. I could sit in the corner and cry about it, but here I am getting help holding myself together, so you can just shut up.”

“Doesn’t seem to be working.” “What the hell is that supposed to mean.”

Conn held out his hands to either side, “Look around Commander. Here you are sitting alone in the dark at three in the morning drawing pictures of cannibal zombies. I mean honestly you have gone and lost it. If you really wanted to get better you would probably tell her that you keep seeing him when you look in the mirror.”

“Fuck you Conn. I needed time, I STILL need time, and I will TAKE all of the TIME I NEED.”

If he could have cracked his knuckles he would have. This was fun, “No you can’t. You have a job to do, and by acting like this you are letting the entire crew down.

“Id let the crew down more if I took over not being ready.”

“Then why aren’t you ready?”

The human stepped forward right up in his face. The spark had lit into a flame fanned. The anger was billowing outwards, “I think I deserve to feel like shit for a little while. I watched a man die.”

“You mean the man you killed.” Conn went on smuggly 

The human was even closer to him now, chest to chest, “I DID-NOT-KILL-HIM. I survived. That man may have deserved what he got and maybe he didn’t, but no one died and made me GOD so it's not my place to decide.”

“You didn’t help him though, did you.”

“No, I didn’t, but why was it MY job to help him. Me against an entire prison. The guards weren't going to stop them, they hated that guy just as much as the rest of us, and while we are on the subject. YES I wanted him dead, any normal person would. I’m not a saint, I’m not perfect and yes I have those sort of thoughts. In fact, I got what was coming to me; my punishment was the beating I got. Anyone who blames me for any of that can go right to hell.” The flame was roaring nice and warm now. It was anger, and it was making both of them feel light. Blood ran through their hands and into their heads. 

It felt sort of nice to be mad.

“Oh please, if you really believed that, you wouldn't feel so guilty.”

The human snarled. The dogs and the spiderlings on the floor had retreated under a table, but Glados hissed along with him. “You think I feel guilty because of HIM, no. I feel guilty because I didn’t live up to my own standards. If I really am who I thought I was, I would have helped him no matter what, but I didn't and that's why I am frustrated. I am not the man I thought I was, and that PISSES ME OFF.”

Conn floated a little closer two dark eyes looking into one green one, “You know who you remind me of?”

“Oh please tell me more, I am DYING to know.”

Conn paused allowing the tension to build, “Mr. Everett.”

The room had gone very silent. Glados stopped growling, and her little ears went back, “Take…. That…. Back.” The human hissed in a horse whisper.

“Make… me.” Conn whispered back 

He watched from the Commander’s peripheral vision as Glados crawled across the floor and under the table. He was getting into dangerous territory, but that was no matter. He would manage just fine, “Come on, just look at his career, mirrors your own now wouldn't it. I can just imagine it, the ship goes dark and poor little Adam Vir loses his mind and starts eating the crew.”

A vein was pulsing just above the man’s good eye, “I would not.”

“I wonder what the Drev taste like. I mean Sunny is small enough, you could probably catch her and chop her up into bite sized pieces if you really wanted to.” 

‘I said SHUT UP.” “Why should I!”

The man lifted his hands as if he was going to choke Conn, but held back balling them into fists, “I would never do that, and I don’t give a damn what you say. I would keep my cool, and we would find a way out because that is what we always do.”

Conn shrugged intentionally and quite completely blowing him off as if it was nothing.

“You know it’s just sad. You trying to justify yourself.”

“What do you want from me Conn. Why are you her. Does messing with people get you off or something. Is this some kind of sadistic pleasure for you?” 

There was silence in the room for a long moment. 

Waffles whined below the table, and the spiderlings chirped nervously along with her.

“No Commander.” His voice lost it’s edge, he let it slip take on a more distant quality inside the man’s head.

“These thoughts aren’t mine…..” The human looked on in confusion, the flame in his chest pausing.

“They’re yours.” The flame was snuffed blown into smoke which rose into confusion on his face. He took a step back.

“What are you talking about?”

“None of those words were mine. I stole them all from your own head. All of the insults all of the illogical assumptions.” He grinned, “they made you mad, didn’t they because they didn’t make sense.”

The man just stood there mouth agape jaw working furiously though no sound came out

“You argued pretty heavily with me didn’t you. Thought I was being some sort of asshole….” Laughter, not that he could make the sound, but inside the man’s head he could sound like anything, “I’m not the asshole, Commander...you are. Calling yourself names, doubting yourself. Personally my opinion is that if you are allowed to do it, than I am. I mean if it’s inside your own head than you must believe it.”

“But I don’t.” the man whispered 

“Than what do you believe commander?” He waited there, knowing the answer but watching as the human struggled to find it inside his own cluttered head. Parts of his subconscious doing its best to hide the truth, but then he snagged it. Just a tendril, but it was enough.

He sighed deflating, “I want to feel normal again, I want to get back to work. I wanted someone to be angry at me, someone to yell at me like I won't shatter. I want them to tell me that I am NOT doing as well as I could. I want people to expect MORE from me not less because less means that they believe in me less. Even if I can’t reach it, I want people to honestly believe that I can because maybe if someone believe it, it’s true.”

“You feel like people have been making excuses for you.”

He threw his hands in the air, “Exactly. They’ve been going so easy, they've been so nice, but that's not what I want… It’s not what I need. I know it sounds stupid, but I want someone to come in here and tell me to my face that I need to do better because they'd be right. All the doctors and all my friends they think they are being supportive, and they are, but that’s not what I need. I need expectations.” 

Conn crossed his arms, “Fine, do better. Get off your ass and get back to work.”

He sighed, “it’s different coming from you.”

“Why?”

“Because You know exactly what I want, but you're probably don’t mean it. I don’t need platitudes Conn.”

More laughter. He liked the sound it was fun, and it was a great way to mock people, “Platitudes. Do you honestly think I care about your feelings enough to give you platitudes. I am being honest. I think you’re being a selfish asshole sitting here all alone in the dark coloring when you have a job to do. Do better.” The man was glaring at him again. That little spark in his chest had come back easier than it had before, Conn reveled in the feeling of his anger.

“What do you want Commander, right now what do you feel right now.”

“Probably the desire to strangle you.” Conn didn’t even bother flinching.

“You don’t really want that.”

He sighed in annoyance, “Fine, I don’t want that…. I….” Conn waved a hand trying to prompt him on. Conn could feel it, a sort of buildup of emotion inside the man. Physically it felt like a cap on a shaken up bottle filling his entire body up till just under his head, like he was trying to keep his face out of the water in order to avoid drowning.

“You now what, honestly I’M PISSED OFF. IT’S NOT FAIR DAMN IT. If I could just…..”

“Come on….” Conn coaxed.

“If I could just, clear it all out then maybe I’d feel better, but I have to act all civilized because of my rank. I have to be in control.

Conn waved a hand dismissively and motioned around the room, “Well go on, no one is stopping you.”

“Not on the ship.” The man hissed in return.

“It’s your ship isn’t it. Look around, Commander what is the worst you could do, break a couple of chairs bust the coffee machine , nothing you couldn’t pay for.”

“What if the crew sees. 

“Screw them.” Conn said, “everyone will be better off if you get a little destructive now versus not doing it and being a lot more destructive later.”

THe man held his eyes for a very long moment, “It won’t be pretty.”

“I’m inside your head, I have seen plenty of things that aren't pretty.” 

There was silence for a few seconds before.

“You should probably step back.”

This time Conn did as directed floating back and high watching as the man turned on the spot. His head was bowed, his hands curled into claws at his side. He watched from the sky as one dog and three spiderlings slunk across the room and hid under the salad bar.

He allowed himself to feel the buildup as the man’s hands began to shake uncontrollably, his breathing grew heavy, blood rushed into his face and neck, and then, the cap burst from the bottle….

WIth a scream of anger, almost inhuman the man lashed out with his prosthetic leg kicking the table. The power was enough to snap some of the bolts holding it in place and it hit the floor on it’s side with a crash. Chairs went flying along with creative curses Conn would have to save for later. Silverware crashed onto the ground. Lights hung from exposed wires. Metal screeched as it was dented. Paper was rent and scattered about the floor like confetti. 

Minutes passed by followed a reign of destruction so impressive Conn admitted he actually underestimated what was going to happen. 

The commander  stood at the center of the room surrounded by carnage. His hands were bleeding. He tilted his head back towards the ceiling screamed again and fell to his knees breathing hard. There he went quiet and Conn could feel as the last bit drained from him, dripping onto the floor and dissipating away.

The red faded from his neck and face, and with an exhausted sigh he flopped onto his back one bloody hand resting on his stomach, the other resting on the floor as he stared at the ceiling. Conn floated over, adjusting the gravity field so he sunk to the floor, and lay down as well. Their heads were side by side, though their feet were going in opposite directions.

They lay like that for a minute.

After a few moments, There was a soft shuffling on the floor as waffles slunk from under the salad bar crouched close to the ground, her tail sweeping fast and slow to the ground her ears back.

She scooted closer to the commander, whimpering and yawning with agitation.

The commander patted her ears as he stared up at the ceiling, and she lay against him in the crook of his arm. 

Noise down in the hallway, along with the sound of rushing feet and a group of humans charged onto the deck carrying an assorted array of weaponry. They paused in the doorway to the mess hall from two doorways looking both worried and confused spotting the commander lying amidst the carnage.

“Commander wha-”

The man held up a finger, “SHHH…. Shhhhh.” 

The humans went quiet looking between each other with confused expressions. Dr. katie poked her head around the door frame and glanced around the room, then with tentative steps she walked quietly into the room and towards where the commander lay. She didn’t say anything but paused, then shrugged and slowly lowered herself to the ground, adjusting herself till she was flat on her back staring up at the ceiling. The other humans looked between each other in surprised confusion, but one of the marines shrugged walked forward and lay down on one of Conn’s other sides resting his hands atop his stomach in silent contemplation.

Following their baser social instincts, the other humans followed until, one by one, he was surrounded by an array of human bodies all staring up at the sky in deep contemplation. Conn reached out to them feeling their solidarity to their commander, and then connected the two together allowing the Commander to hear them for one brief moment.

There was silence and then, inside his head.

“Thank you, Conn.”

“don’t mention it.”

...

“Conn.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t EVER try that on anyone else.... ever again.” 

“You have my word, Commander.” 

 Whatever..... its not like he cared.

[aurorafreerose]

Don’t Be Late- Ch 3

Summary: Bakugo and Uraraka spar, but not before it gets... complicated.

Notes: Inspired by part by this fan animation by DailyKrumbs~~ 

Writer’s note: Also wrote this while listening to Novacane and Nights by Frank Ocean! Hehe but things are heating up between these two!!!

Word count: 1709

Read on ao3!

Ochaco hadn't given it too much thought. However, imagining Bakugo Katsuki- the most aggressive person she'd ever met- pinning her down and yelling 'SHINEEE!' for the next hour made her squirm. 

Was this really a good idea, to have asked Bakugo of all people to spar-

Her inner monologue was suddenly interrupted by the sound of Bakugo opening the door to the training rooms for her.

They'd entered and unpacked their things, and shot looks at one another from opposing sides of the room.  Ochaco's brow had furrowed in concentration, eyeing Bakugo with a stare of unyielding determination.  Bakugo, on the other hand, was glaring at Ochaco with the same fury, that same pent-up drive that always hid behind his red pupils. Both of them were searching for openings, and yet the space in the room seemed to be shrinking the longer they met each other's gaze. 

They hadn't said a word to each other, but yet, there was a growing tension between them, something becoming more apparent with each second. It was different from the sports festival; there was nothing really at stake for either of them, but there was still a competitive aspect to it. Ochaco felt that same intense desire she knew Bakugo had, that passionate need, to prove her worth as a hero.  

She realized she'd forgotten to ask something in her haste.

 "Bakugo-kun..."

"What is it?" he said gruffly, looking disconcerted. 

"Will we be using our quirks?" 

"What, are you stupid or something? Obviously, Angel Face," he answered, clearly annoyed by her lack of foresight. 

"Oh.. um, yeah..." Ochaco said sheepishly, rubbing her temple absentmindedly. 

The uneasy silence resumed occupying the space between them, building more and more with each passing second. 

Then, giving her a curt nod, Bakugo was the first to strike, and he rushed her head-on. Ochaco held her fighting stance as he approached, two sets of five fingers gently brushing each other, watching him grow ever-closer. He's fast, she thought. His fingers curled, deftly swiping a cloud of flame and smoke aimed at her face. She dodged in the nick of time, not giving him a second to connect with her jaw. He spun around in anticipation of her counter. She launched herself into a kick, aiming at his knees. He'd swiftly dodged. She went in again, this time with her right reaching at his collarbone with her fingers stretched out, but no-

He'd evaded her twice now, as if it were second nature to him. Her left grasped at the other side of his face, attempting to bridge the large space between them Bakugo had made in his last move.

Bakugo's features curled into the devilish smile she'd seen once before at the sports festival. Ochaco, in contrast, looked nothing but concentrated as she met his amused expression. It was as if a fierce desire inside of him had been momentarily satisfied. He looked to be enjoying himself, like someone had flipped a switch inside his normally-brutish personality.

In a rapid succession of movements, he'd grabbed her wrist, turned her around so she wasn't facing him, and placed her in a chokehold up against the wall. She let out a primal sort of groan. Her breathing was coming out sharp and ragged as Bakugo restrained her, feeling a mixture of humiliation, rage and... nervousness? at her all-too-easy defeat. 

"Come on, cheeks, you can't be this fucking easy...You'd get blown to fucking hell if I were a villain, that's for damn sure..." Bakugo was teasing her. It was like he was deliberately trying to rile her up. Maybe he just wanted to gloat? 

He still hadn't eased her restraints, keeping one hand on her wrist and another keeping her arm pinned behind her back. She couldn't see him, only feel his hot breath barely meet her skin as he aimed insults at her. She knew he was smiling at her, taunting her lack of skill in a way that made her want to tear him apart. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins, making her impulses run rampant.

Bakugo finally let her go, allowing her to face him once more as she wiped the sweat from her face, still panting from their previous exchange. He was smirking. She still didn't know why, but she quickly regained her composure. 

She felt a thrill as they traded blows once again. Ochaco was slightly mollified to see she'd wiped that irritating grin off of Bakugo's face. They were using their fists to communicate with each other rather than their words. A jab here, a missed punch there, and they were both growing more collected, more determined, with each passing second. They were so unnervingly close, their bodies instinctually touching and feeling the longer they went on. 

He tried to put her in the same position again. His hand grasped at her wrist, but she'd gone for his leg instead, flipping him onto the floor. Unfortunately, she went down with him.He laid on the floor for a few seconds, his legs raised and his arms behind his head. She grabbed one leg, and he landed a sharp kick to her neck as a response. Ochaco saw stars in front of her eyes. She jolted herself into focus too late as Bakugo had already gotten up. She raised her hands in a defensive stance, but Bakugo had sent another explosion straight at her. 

This time, it launched her off of her feet and sent her sprawling across the floor. Ochaco scrambled to her feet, but a few seconds too late again- he'd caught up to her already, and threw her to the ground once more. Bakugo was directly on top of her, his hands clamped around her wrists, legs wrapped around either side of her waist, face just a few inches above hers. She was helpless, despite her body continuing to protest against his. She refused to give in.

"Give up," Bakugo commanded. 

Ochaco looked up in surprise. Bakugo was staring her straight in the eyes, his voice strained from their fight. She knew he wasn't in this for fun anymore. His body sagged against hers, breathing laboriously, his neck almost opposite hers, knees dipping ever-so-slightly. A soft moan slipped out of his mouth as he fought to keep her held. They were so close. Ochaco was made increasingly aware of the physical effort he put into completely overpowering her. The intimacy of fighting wasn't something she was all too familiar with, but she was growing acquainted with it.

They fought again, but his moves were getting careless, and hers more precise. She didn't know if it was because he was volunteering himself to become her personal punching bag, or if he was simply distracted. Ochaco kept gaining the upper hand, which incensed Bakugo, igniting a flame somewhere. 

They were both drenched in sweat, Bakugo's tank top adhering strictly to his abs, and it wasn't too much of a distraction for her, but she made note of it nonetheless. Watching his muscles grow taut, so tense as he fought, was not an ugly sight per se. She convinced herself he reminded her of Midoriya to get her mind off of it.  

Bakugo made a hurried lunge towards her. In a phantasmic kind of way, she blocked it and sidestepped him. Now she was the one who had him restrained, in the converse of their previous predicament. She had his arms above his head. Her knees were buckling into the wall to keep themselves around either side of his legs (he was an annoying height taller than her, after all). It didn't seem like she needed to, because he wasn't moving.

They were too close. Bakugo's lips, parted in an expression of hunger, were only an inch or two away from her own. Ochaco knew she should ease her hold on him, let go, return the feeling they had between them back to normal. But she didn't want to untangle her legs from in between his. She wanted to just stay there, their heaving, tired bodies leaning against each other, him looking at her in that tantalizing way. 

Deep inhales, heavy exhales, were all that was exchanged between them. Neither of them could stop staring, but they also couldn't bring themselves to do any more than that. It was like magic, the little bursts of feeling that jolted her heart in her chest, making it beat faster and faster and faster. 

Ochaco was sorry when Bakugo seemed to snap out of it. "Oi, get off of me, cheeks-"

His fingers landed on her chest without much thought, ostensibly to wrangle her off of him, but they ended up grabbing something else. Ochaco flushed, and Bakugo's eyes widened as he realized his opponent was definitely a woman. He removed his hands like he was touching a deadly disease, looking both offended by-and disgusted with-himself. Ochaco knew he wasn't thinking of it that way, but that didn't make it any less awkward. 

"I-it's fine! I know you didn't mean to-" she tried to communicate her lack of anger to him, but he seemed oddly flustered. He was refusing to look at her, head tilted towards the floor, eyes pointed at anything but her face.

"No, it's my fault. I- I'm sorry," he offered, voice much quieter than his usual tones. A blush crept up his cheeks. She had never heard him apologize to anyone. Ochaco hadn't seen him like this before, and doubted most other people had. 

 As they packed up, she couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if he hadn't stopped it when he did. 

She banished the thought as soon as it occurred to her. That didn't guarantee it wouldn’t make an appearance in her dreams.

[seijohsfairy]

𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙸𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙴

it’s with little things that futakuchi shines, it’s with little things that he breaks your heart. but with one single word he breaks open the skies and douses you in snow, and maybe that’s good enough. ✧ collab masterlist ✧ go support the amazing creators there!!

massive thank you to @/tsumue for beta reading!! ily

.wordc. 8k+ fake dating!au, smut, angst

tw semi-public, thigh riding, fingering, daddy kink, but it’s sappy and sweet

+

It isn’t like summer came and left without consequences before. In the excitement of the warm weather, it wasn’t too uncommon to come back with a broken bone or a new scar, laugh about it and boys and silly trips over iced tea with friends. It wasn’t like summer was ever easy to swallow. It had always been violent and murky, thick with the overwhelming fervor of something that felt like it was over too soon.

Your last summers had been that way each time, coming back down to earth only to realize that the marks branded to your skin by clumsy friends or the excuse of love were never quite as pretty as you thought them to be in the orange evening light. You don’t really know why you’re surprised at the consequences again now, but you do know that this time— they genuinely scare you. The light here is low and murky, casting washed out versions of peach and yellow on your white, body-tight dress. Catching on the jewelry that dangles between your collarbones and bobs gently with the breaths you take.

The waves roll close underneath you, almost licking at the edges of the balcony from this angle, like jealous, grabby hands. You sigh, then take another sip of the expensive liquor that was pushed into your hands earlier. It hadn’t always been as flat and colourless, but the bubbles have long escaped. The slide of the door sets your hairs on end, but you don’t move, and you don’t drop your frown. In this way you prove that he is not above consequence either, at least to yourself. At least to the ocean as it looks on with sad eyes at the comedy playing out before it.

His weight feels heavy when he drops onto the metal seat next to you, a soft groan coming from his throat as he does. You still think you adore the sound, always curious as to how he looks when it comes. Sometimes with a pout, when he begs for excessive praise. He does it winding down from conversations, because Kenji is well-spoken only when the situation absolutely requires it. It’s one of the things that never fails to make you laugh. Sometimes, he groans with his arms around your waist and his chin on your head, asking you to come to bed. And as with everything else these last, stupid few months, you turn to him this time too.

In the little refuge away from the violent swell of summer, he looks restless. The soft, clipped way his hair exposes his handsome face for the world to smother; you like teasing him with it. Just briefly, to watch the slight curl to his lips when he spells out how much ‘you love it’. Inquisitive, hazel eyes that seem to unfold the world in front of him two steps at a time. He doesn’t move to take notice of you for a while, with the loud roll of the waves under you and the soft chatter in the background. For a longer while you don’t notice you’re staring either. Until you’ve counted every rise of his chest to a hundred. But it’s always been so easy to get lost in him, because even in the cold, depressing fall of the last day of summer, he’s beautiful.

“Didn’t think you still ran away from confrontation.” Your breathing slows when the breeze ruffles your dress and his dress shirt. “Just come to me next time, don’t sneak out,” he mumbles, the soft curve of his lips twitching up slightly when he finally looks at you. The weight of his eyes on you has always been a bit heavy for you to bear, but tonight it feels burning, and so does his hand when he drops it onto your thigh to drag little circles into it. “It’s not like we have to hate each other all of a sudden.” You don’t, it makes your frown dig deeper into your brows. He waits for your answer. When it doesn’t come he slowly pulls away from your warmth, mouth corners dropping slightly. “We can still talk.” This last one comes out more like a question than anything he’s said all day, and it makes you laugh, though you have to bite your lip to keep it down.

“Can we really, Kenji?” you ask him, looking away from him when he avoids your gaze. You turn back to the sea instead, letting the salty air stick to your lungs in case the drive back home hits you over the head with nostalgia early. “We were never meant to stay here so long. I wasn’t meant to get used to this. Because when we leave tomorrow, I won’t be able to come to you anymore. And I’m sure you’ll go on getting whatever you need out of your pretty, little life,” your voice softens when the sun sinks under the horizon, leaving you with only a few minutes of the last sunlight. “But I don’t think I want to see you grow away from me.” Again, you almost say, though you know it’s not fair to make him apologize for it a second time. And because it is not fair at all, you’re the first to leave the chill of the balcony. You hold your glass aside in one hand as you step over his feet and walk back into the shiny villa.

The cold, shimmering house you felt uncomfortable in doesn’t feel foreign anymore though. And you hate having to consider that maybe somewhere through it all, you really did grow as colourless. Maybe you grew used to pretending to fit, like Kenji did. Not that it’ll matter much once summer ends anyway. The wave you give the guests is a small one, getting a disapproving tut of his mother’s lips from a distance. You know that’s exactly why he asked you of all people, and by now it doesn’t bother you anymore. You don’t wait up for him as you move up the stairs. The spare room is— was yours for a while, and as much as you didn’t expect it to, you know you’ll miss it.

You know this is the place you’ll think of when remembering. You’ll remember the baby pink sheets you insisted on that Kenji mumbled he didn’t like even though he let you have them anyway, and the way your makeup was just a little more fun to do when he was watching over your shoulder in the rising light of the sun than in the dark corner of your room back home. The memories of this summer will replace the ones of past experiences, and maybe when you leave, you’ll think of Kenji as something excellent again. Like you did for so long. But for now… for now you don’t want to thank him for it. For now you want to be as angry as he was when he left you at the corner of the street at fourteen, tears in his eyes as he told you that he never wanted you to be hurt like that by him again.

And you know that he meant well, because despite his quick tongue and a hunger for breaking through people’s shells, he’s never had a bad bone in his body. But none of that matters, when it still leaves you alone. You don’t know why you thought any of this was a good idea.

“Just come with me. I told them it was someone who lived in the street with us before we moved and it’d be so much easier to have you there, not someone who I’m reading lines with,” he’d said, and you had laughed a little too hard at the absurdity of that. You’d put your white bag of groceries by your feet just to cross your arms across your chest and lift a brow at him, snorting at his pristine shoes and branded shirt once.

“Why the hell ask me, of all people? There’s plenty of pretty girls that lived farther down the street that work much better in the whole play you’re trying to sell them. Your parents hate me.” Your voice had been a little too sharp, too accusatory to have come from an objective place, but why the hell would you have been when it came to him? You’d known each other for years and then lost contact for just as long, you’d probably already been totally different people for a while. “What do you really want, Futakuchi? You’re not still rebelling against your parents, are you?”

“Is it so impossible to you that I just want to take you with me for this?” he’d huffed, running his long fingers through the shorter cut than the one you remembered him with, looking down at you. Always had been tall too, but now it seems almost mocking in difference.

“It is,” you’d snorted, picking up your groceries again. “Can’t believe you really came all the way back here to find me, honestly. I mean- of all the things you could have started a conversation with…” You’d taken a step from the sidewalk, fully intent on heading home. But his hand had been on your arm in an instant, a gentle, sturdy reminder that this wasn’t just some stranger. You’d bit your cheek and narrowed your eyes at him, before sighing. “Give me one good reason why I would.”

And the tiny, hopeful smile on his lips had been enough to remind you of every single memory you’d shared. “I’ll make it worth your while?”

+

He has made it worth your while, you think as you start packing your bag, not bothering to change out of the satin white present just yet. In all honesty, you don’t even know why you’ve let him in again. As most things that happen in summer, he’ll fade once it’s gone. Freckles do. Scars do. Memories do too. It’s the natural flow of things. So you don’t know why you still feel so saddened by the thought. The feet on the stairs are a bit too slow and careful to be completely thoughtless, something that makes the slight twitch of your lip feel comforting. The soft creak of the door is all the warning you get, and you take a deep breath to prepare.

Because whatever comes out of his mouth next won’t be easy to swallow either. You press the flowy shirts into your bag a little more, focussing on the way they get dented under your fingertips when you let your palm rest on the shiny silk. If you didn’t want to let him in why did you do it then, it sounds loud in your head, even though in your inner monologue it sounds strained too. Why? This high life isn’t you, the rumours and playing dress-up for everyone else’s amusement isn’t either.  But maybe you wanted to try for Kenji. Maybe you wanted to see what it was that led him away from you and onto better pastures. The grass really might be a bit brighter, is all you can think, given how much sunlight it gets in the stretch of open space here.

“Is this really how you want to leave it?” he asks, calling your name from beside you. You continue with the clothes until it feels like your fingers are cold and the words have sunken into the floor. But there’s so little to say. “Come on, princess, you don’t have to…” he sighs, and you turn over your shoulder only to watch the line dig between his pretty brows and remain there for too long. His eyes roam along the curve of your face down to your neck, where the diamond necklace with his initials engraved still hangs. A present— fake present, to sell the whole dating thing. “Why are you trying so frustratingly hard to prove me wrong? I mean- just imagine you had fun this summer, and I did too. Would that be so bad?”

“Does it really matter, Kenji?” your mouth is quicker than your thoughts in moments like these, but you’re grateful for them, because otherwise you might freeze over in the lack of his glow. “We weren’t really together. All of this was a little performance, and we played it well,” you huff, putting on your bravest smile as you put your makeup bags away too, “but once we’re gone here you’re going to go back to all of those people and tell them we broke up, remember? It’s fine for us to have bad blood after a ‘breakup’. We held hands and slept in the same room, that doesn’t suddenly make us the best of friends again.”

“A whole summer and this is where you give up?” He huffs, chest rising a little too rapidly. “I think we need to have a talk about timing it out, sweetheart, because of all the times you could have given up on me—”

“I never gave up on you. You gave up on us a while ago, don’t put that on me. You’re the one who stopped responding to my texts when you left.” The grating of the zipper is loud when you close the bag, putting it next to the bed. Your feet hurt, and your head feels heavy in the silence, but it’s the shuffle of his feet that has you freezing over. Without a word he gently rests a hand on your hip, pulling you into him until your arm is squished between your body and his chest. Like that he holds you, looking at the ceiling while he speaks.

“I’m not good at this.”

It’s the soft sigh that comes out after his blank tone that has you softening until you’re barely anything but mush, his other arm wrapping around your front and keeping you locked in an embrace that you couldn’t crack if you wanted to. And in all truth, you probably don’t. As he leans his nose to your temple, his cologne fills the air you breathe and forces you to taste him before you’re ready to, making you swallow him whole with the soft beating of his heart against your skin.

And then you hear his father call his name, with a smile laced between the letters, like he’s the most precious thing. He is, to you as well. And it’s the shake of your head after his father’s call that reminds you it is the same for him, you both ache to burn up together, to be pressed so close to each other that the air has no room to go. It reminds you that this was never your spot to stand in. You swallow through the pressure of welling tears to place your fingers to his chest and push, stumbling back a step.

“Kenji, come say goodbye! Your friend can handle packing herself,” his mother calls from the hall. Friend. You’ve long despised the way she spits the syllables of the word, but you also know that to her, you, all that you have ever been, is nothing more than a cliff in the way of her son’s future. The brunet bites his bottom lip as he stares at the toes of your dainty, little heels; before slowly straightening out his shoulders and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his slacks. He doesn’t look back at you when he turns to the door.

“She’s my girlfriend, mom,” he shouts back, but even you can tell that there’s no fire left behind the words. In the end, he always would’ve lost that fight anyway. You can hear the soft murmurs of a conversation between his parents, but it stays quiet after that. And Kenji moves his jaw back and forth a few times in thought, before he rests his hand onto the doorknob. “I have to go see them out, just a second.” You lick at your strawberry lip gloss and brush your hand over your white dress a few times as you nod, crossing one foot over the other in place.

Before he leaves the room to go wave out his to-be fiancé and her parents, you let the words fall. If not for your good, at least for his. “Kenji, I know you’re trying to prove to your parents that you don’t have to listen to what they tell you. But you and I both know that you will anyway, because you care about them.” His shoulders rise and fall with each breath, but his back is the only thing you get to see. You’re grateful for it. And you can’t help but let a small smile slip on, because the woman they chose for him is beautiful. She’s kind too. He won’t have it so bad.

“If you really want to be friends still, come find me some time when you don’t need me to do you a favor,” you mumble.

He doesn’t say anything as he steps through the door and walks down the stairs, and you chuck the last of your stuff on the bed to put it away too.

+

And if summer is the time you leave with a heavy heart and the weight of the world on your shoulders, maybe it’s the universe’s way of finding balance making you meet him in winter. The hot glow of wine buzzes through your chest, black, beaded dress a tad too short for the cold weather. But you’re hidden out in the bustle of people in similar clothing and packed close together, laughing along with some of your classmates. It’s dim and dark and surprisingly trashed for what should have been a friendly gathering, but as students tend to do, everyone who got word showed up for the free booze. You lean into one of the girls. “I’m gonna go take a look around the front, I want to see the ice rink!”

“Okay, I gotta use the restroom but I’ll find you,” she nods, before probably relaying her boyfriend the same message. You squeeze through a few of the people with slow steps, goosebumps rising as soon as the packed people grow wider apart in the hall. The loud music is less overwhelming here, you notice, swaying slightly. And little sparkling snowflakes are hung with lights along the walls, making you smile. As you shuffle past a group of girls significantly drunker than you, the frosty air hits you. With flushed cheeks and noses they laugh and spread out among their friends like it’s the only thing winter leaves room for.

As you step out into the night, it’s easy to pretend that this isn’t one of those nights you try to forget. But even tipsy, you know better. The laughter out here is loud, some people squeaking at the cold as they slip around on skates, clinging to each other in drunk, off-balance groups. You wrap your arms tight around yourself as you walk through the grass toward the rink, shaking a little at the frosty air coming up from the ice. The gritty sound of the skates on the ice is barely audible over the chatter and laughter of all of the people, some generic Christmas playlist bouncing around the garden through the speakers.

You lick your bottom lip as you lean onto the banister and blow out a little cloud. A cursed thought of Kenji worms it’s way between your ears as you watch. So with pursed lips, you leave your spot to look around for the tables with booze. The guy behind the stand grins when you tell him to give you a double, though he doesn’t comment on it, and you place it to your lips with a second of preemptive regret, before downing the thing.

It burns on it’s way down, hitting the back of your throat with a nasty, bitter taste. You frown, and chuck the empty plastic beaker into the trash can. A soft chuckle catches you slightly off guard. “Going through it?” the guy asks before you turn to face him, hands in his pockets and broad frame cutting off your view of the people skating. Out of all the people you had to run into tonight, of course it’d be your ex. He must’ve come here for one too many drinks. As he leans past you to pick up one of the shots himself, you take a step back. You didn’t plan on being cordial to strangers tonight, let alone exes.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“I can tell,” he chuckles, sticking out his hand towards your face. “You always get that expression on your face when you’re lost in thought.” He sounds oddly fond at that, it makes your stomach feel heavy. You two didn’t end it great and though you didn’t date for long, you’d rather step on glass than pretend to be a good conversation partner to a person who never even bothered to remember your last name. You glance around the groups of people for anyone you know. Haru doesn’t take the hint when you sigh loudly either. But you don’t see the people you came with anywhere, so you drop your shoulders with a sigh. “Drink?” the black-haired man asks, and you shake your head.

“No, I think I’ve had enough for tonight. Will probably be heading home soon anyway.”

“Ah,” he grimaces at that, “already? And here I was thinking you’d like to talk to me again.” Anything but that. “You always skip out of classes so soon that I didn’t get to talk to you after we split, but that blondie tells me you’re doing well.” He downs his shot easily, and it’s then that you realise how flushed his cheeks and nose are, no longer from the cold. “You sure you don’t want another drink?” he says, as you look over his shoulder to the rink. There’s enough people here not to be worried about starting trouble, but the way he leans into your space is still uncomfortable enough to have you backing yourself into the wall.

“Yes, I’m good.” When you try to take a step away, he reaches for your arm, and out of instinct you snatch it back. “Stop, don’t touch me,” you snap at him, and he frowns for a second. Clearly too drunk to understand that you’re not interested in playing his games at all, even if he doesn’t mean harm. He huffs out an amused breath at your short answer and reaches out again, and you glare at him. “Haru, cut it out, I’m not playing this stupid game.” But it’s when he gives you a harder stare, lips drooping, that you remember why you only dated for a month. He doesn’t know when to stop, definitely not when he drinks.

“Come on, don’t be like that. We had some good chemistry, didn’t we?” He walks too far into your space, and gives you an up and down. “Why don’t we get out of here and try that again? You look really good tonight.” As soon as he reaches for the edge of your dress, his arm is caught in a tight grip, his face scrunching up.

“Keep your fucking paws off of her,” the person hisses, tall body suddenly right there for you to lean into. You don’t even need to look over your shoulder to feel the wave of safety that comes when he shoves your ex back a few steps and pulls you into him under his chin, sighing. Within seconds, every bit of his attention is aimed at you, dousing you in heat under his sharp gaze. “I was looking for you, angel. Don’t just wander off.” He smiles down at you, honey eyes glittering in the surrounding light. “Everything okay, are you hurt?” And your heart seems to swell twice the size at his handsome face.

The stupid stutter of your pulse reminds you just how much he affects you. Maybe even more now. “No, I’m fine,” you whisper back, so soft it barely reaches your own ears. But he must understand, because he turns you in his hold and places a kiss on your nose, then looking back at the guy. You do too, for just a second as he processes the situation, and you don’t really want to stick around long enough for him to get the chance. “Kenji, this is Haru. Haru, this is my boyfriend,” you say easily, not the first time you’ve had to play this role. It comes easily when you feel his strong arms around you, when you feel his breath dusting over your skin. He smells like holiday spices, and you allow your body to melt in a little more.

“Let’s go,” is all you have to say to make him giggle, letting you from his hold to walk you past the people and out of the mass of sloppy drunks. You stare at his back as he leads you on, fingers cold in his warm palms. When you come to a halt in a quieter hall, you gently pull back, and he stops. You’re both quiet, and your dress suddenly feels a bit too snug to breathe entirely comfortably, as his eyes roam your features quickly. You lick your lips, then take a deep breath. “Since when do you mix in with the loney seniors during the holidays?” The grin that comes to his lips is beautiful, widening when you continue. “I thought you graduated, Kenji. Don’t have anything better to do?”

“Am I not welcome anymore, princess?” he playfully bites back, and you try and hold in a laugh, failing miserably. He runs his hand through his hair, before leaning against the wall. “I was helping out a buddy set up that shit out there.”

You nod in understanding as you take him in, the Christmas sparkles filling his eyes with a shimmering glow, waiting for— something to give. Though you could stand and watch him forever. Until he cracks his lips open to giggle. “We have nothing to say to each other again?”

“Oh, I have plenty to say,” you respond, cheeks bunching up when he takes a step toward you to grab onto your hands. “Just… maybe not right now.” The hall here is mostly vacant, leading back further into the uninteresting part of the house, so the thump of the bass doesn’t overwhelm your chest. You’re so grateful for that when he stands toe to toe with you, and strokes his thumb over your fingers. “Kenji— I-”

“Wait,” he says though, leaning down to hover his face so close to yours it makes you dizzy. “I have things to say too. I’m sorry for,” he peeks out his tongue in thought as he looks away, and you use it to lean your face away from him a little. It’s not fair. The festive atmosphere is making your mind all twisted. “For taking for granted that you stuck by me. I think I was trying to prove myself so much this summer that I took too lightly that you were there for me when I needed you. And I’m sorry if I… hurt you.”

“It was a good memory anyway.” You pull your hands out of his when he eyes you down again, much too intense for a normal two people at a random party, but it seems appropriate only because it’s him. The way his cheeks are slightly coloured a peachier tone, his expression no longer the teasing grin you’ve grown to know. “Does this mean I’m invited to the wedding again?”

The amused gleam sparks over his face at that for just a second. “Eager are you, princess? If I were to ask you now would you say yes?”

You swat his hand away as he reaches for you again, grinning too wide. He always manages to leave you a bit too giddy. “I meant with the girl from this summer, you flirt.” He doesn’t take his eyes away from you for a second as he instantly replies, like he’s trying to commit your reaction to memory. It makes you feel so much smaller than you are, because like everything else with Kenji, he always leaves you vulnerable.

“I said no.” Your eyes widen. But the why must be visible on your face because he continues. “I said no because she’s not the person I would’ve stayed married to in the long run, she’s not someone I think about every single day. Someone who doesn’t get hurt when I inevitably flap out some stupid shit. Someone who knows what I’m doing even when I can’t admit it to myself yet.”

“Then you best find someone like that, huh.” You take a step away from him. This is too much. The moment, however perfect, is just too dreamy. You and Kenji aren’t— this, you’re messy and hazy and romantic confessions aren’t your thing. And you can’t help but think that this, this is what’ll break you most of all. You never wanted to think of your feelings for him as anything more than a little crush, so why do you feel this way? So shaky. “I should go home, it’s cold and I wasn’t going to stay for long anyway.”

Maybe it’s because you’ve made peace with being the thing that he clung to to rebel so long ago, that your feet move before your brain can catch up. All you know is that he’ll crack you wide open if you stay any longer, and you don’t think you can handle that. Before he can say anything else, and you know he does— you can read it in his widening eyes, you pivot on your heel and start walking away from the noise of the main room, towards the doorway. But his frustrated huff is loud behind you, and his footsteps close your heel.

“Stay,” he asks, shattering your glass cage into a thousand pieces. Because Kenji is only demanding when he is sure of what he’s doing. You don’t make it to the door before he reaches down to grab you by the edge of your dress, pulling you into the stairway, hidden from sight. You veer back like a spring because of his grip, as his other hand comes to keep you from falling.

In your attempt to turn, you stumble backwards, his arm caging you against the wall for balance. You stare up at him for several seconds squeezed against the wall. With a little frown, the brunet lets go of you, though the hand on your other side doesn’t have any intention of leaving. “Don’t chase me, you sap.” Before he can say anything, you blink up at him so cutely. “What are you doing?” There’s a slight fog in your eyes when you trail off. But you look intoxicating in the best way.

“Oh, shut up.” He grimaces, doing his best to keep the stubborn grin from crawling back to his cheeks. For a second, he wonders if this is out of line. Just a split second, where it seems like it’s not his place to intervene. One he has to wonder if you’re bothered by his unending indecisiveness. But as if on clue, you laugh. Full and genuine, with every fiber of your being you laugh, leaning your head to his chest in the process. Maybe you are fed up with him by now. But he wants to say it, anyway. “I said no because I can’t imagine doing this for anyone else, baby.”

When you take a deep breath in, you look at him from under your lashes. Your mouth curves prettily in the shine of the dimmed lights. “Don’t tell me you fell in love with me while we were playing pretend.” A warmth spreads on his cheeks at the teasing glint in your eyes. “Though I did that too, so I guess we’re both saps.” Your hand wraps around his larger, fingers cold against his warm skin. He takes a deep breath through his nose, at a sudden loss for words. The hall is much more quiet than the main one, lacking in people too. It’s chilly, but his body is warm. Your eyes are on him as he moves back to face you, softly regarding him.

“Was it the fancy button-ups?”

Your tongue peeks out to wet your lips again. “No.” Your finger softly taps the side of his hand, though he doesn’t know if it’s a comforting move or a concerned one. Though your fingers are noticeably colder than his, your touch is soft, like velveteen. “It was everything else.” His bright eyes bore into yours for an extended second, before the tenseness of his shoulders drops when you move back to press your weight into the wall, tilting your head to the side.

His laugh is one of surprise, slipping out like it’s been aching to do so for a long time and you also look surprised, if your raised eyebrows are anything to go by. It doesn’t last nearly as long as it should, but you seem to bloom at the sound, even joining with it after a bit. His laugh makes you flutter, and that almost sends him spiraling. Because it’s his laugh that makes you smile.

“Good. I— As fucking embarrassing as it is to admit, I miss waking up next to you.” Kenji’s hand moves from your side to glide over his thigh, a move to soothe his nerves. His gaze finds yours with more fervor this time. “I miss that thing you do when you cling to my arm or back or hand, okay?” His voice is deep when he talks. “I miss your goofy ass.”

It stays silent for a long minute, one where he can see every breath you take. Eventually you bite your bottom lip. “You’re a menace, Futakuchi Kenji,” you say, mouthing it eagerly as if his name is something grand. Something to be proud of, it makes his heart swell. Your lips look like they taste of candy floss. It’s distracting, even more when you smile. You’ve always been so beautiful to him, he feels like leaning closer to you just so he can hold himself up on the wall. It’s embarrassing how badly it renders him. “I should hate you by now.”

You huff out a small laugh, and place your hands on his chest, the pressure of your nails poking through his shirt. “But you somehow manage to rope me back into your schemes each time,” you smile, a playfulness dripping from under your lashes, “you’re lucky I love you.” A few seconds of pause. Kenji revels in the heat that dusts your cheeks when you realize what you just said.

Before you can bring out an attempt to cover up your confession, he leans closer, effectively trapping you between him and the wall. Before he can think about it, his hand finds your chin, tilting it up towards him so that you can look at him, and oh— are you looking. “Yeah? I know you want me just as bad as I want you.” He can almost see the pitter patter of your heart on your face, longing marking every inch of skin. With a firm hold on your jaw, he leans down to hover in your space, faces so close that he can feel your breath meeting his own. “Isn’t that right?”

When you give the tiniest motion of agreement, the length of his body finally finds yours. Your lips open to let out a small noise, so soft that it immediately gets swallowed by the room. But the brunet smiles at it, moving his thumb over the soft expanse of your cheek. “I could ruin you without trying, angel.” Again, you nod, warm and dark in the thick tension of the room. Though he didn’t start the night with this in mind, he’s wanted this for longer than he dares admit. Marking your body with blooming hickeys. The tightness of his pants seems to prove so.

“You could,” you bring out feebly, fingers tangling in his grey shirt to keep a hold on reality, “and I’d probably let you.” His free hand moves to grab your thigh, pulling you flush against him now, as the other goes to rest on the small of your back. Your eyes are dark like smoke, and though he can’t check to see, he knows his are too. Then you move one of your hands to grab at the hair at the base of his skull, willingly tilting your face upwards so that your lips almost brush his, and every string in his body is ready to snap. Every piece of clothing on his body seems too much, too warm. The friction is irritating. “Do you want to kiss me, Kenji?” you breathe.

Yes. He doesn’t wait for it. Lips on yours in a blink. Hands on your skin and under your dress and traveling up your thighs. It happens in a breath, so sudden that he might topple over if he wasn’t pressing you into the wall. Your lips are scalding, red hot like smoldering coals and maybe you could send him up in flames if you tried. Your hands grab him harder, closer, as if the non-space is still too much and he’d be inclined to agree. And his lips move harshly on yours, tongue meeting your own.

The kiss is hard and messy, fire surging from your body to his. “Fucking finally.” He bends down more to tuck you entirely in his hold, grabbing a handful of ass. When he squeezes hard, you squeak into his mouth, dissolving in a twirl of smiles and something more desperate. But you don’t ever stop kissing him, and  he’s sure you two could keep going forever. Where your fingers were cold before, now they seem to trail sparks over his skin. You pull away for a second to take a breath, before kissing him again, his bottom lip, his jaw, under his ear. Your hand grabs desperately at his shoulder.

But he’s only just gotten a taste of you, so Kenji catches your lips with his again, sucking sharply on your bottom lip. It makes you melt into his hold, trying desperately to stay upright. “Fuck, angel.” The hand that is glued to the soft expanse of your back moves to grab another handful of ass, your hips pulled to his. Your tongue tastes like some candy flavored drink, melting with the barren taste of the hard liquor from earlier. Your chest brushes against his own with every breath.

Every part of you is piping hot, sweet and sour and holy fuck— his dick is so hard. Never once has a make out turned him on this much. “You want to do this here?” he asks, and you nod instantly. As in retaliation for the interruption of your kisses, you pull his lip between your teeth and bite it hard. The sting only serves as a temporary line down to earth.

Mouths and tongues a blur as they melt together. Again, his hands are moving on instinct. His fingers tangle in the bottom of your hair. “Want you so bad, Kenji.” You pull back to rest your head on the wall, allowing him a breath, before you blatantly moan at the feeling of his hands on you. Your eyes stay closed. Lips swollen and blurred at the edges. You look fucking heavenly, and the thought that it’s all for him to take makes every fiber in him shake. “Don’t be gentle with me,” you mouth, blindly grabbing at his neck to pull his face back to yours, “please.”

Your bottom lip seems to shake with how badly you mean it. “If you’re gonna do this, do it well.” Your whisper is faint, bringing a small smile to his lips. You don’t see it, but it’s okay. He too is overwhelmed with the undying urge to make you his. He kisses you with a small hum to join. When his lips break from yours, you do open your eyes, looking just as smitten as he feels. “I swear, you jerk. I won’t forgive you if you go soft on me now.” He stares at you for just a moment longer, before nodding. Dragging his mouth over your jaw. Down your neck, hard, open mouth kisses everywhere. And as soon as he adds teeth, you curl into his body, clinging desperately to his back. You moan, your noises sweet like sugar.

The thought of fucking you against this wall crosses his mind, but as fast as it comes, he knows that won’t sate him. He needs you on a bed, spread out for him once, or twice. Sweat drips down his neck and chest and joins the ruined floor of the party. The tightness of his pants is almost painful when your hips tilt to rub over him. It pulls a small laugh out of him, brushing over your shoulder. “Eager, baby?” he asks, though he’s not expecting an answer. Instead, he just digs his fingers into the soft skin of your ass again while you mumble some incoherent words. “Want me so bad, huh?”

“Yes, yes, want you.” Your whines turn into noises of clear impatience, so he pulls back to check his work. Your dress is pulled all the way forward, almost slipping off your one shoulder, and your mouth is open. The hickeys blooming on your skin only make you look more wrecked. He thought he was done, but fuck. Yet again, he has to lean down to grab your face in both of his large hands, and to pull your lips to his. You just whimper, and let him claim your mouth as his, looking too blissed out. “Want your fat cock.”

Your glowing body presses to his again, in an attempt to move things forward maybe, fuck if he knows. At this point, he’d do anything if you just asked. But he’ll do his very best to ruin you like you need him to. “You’re getting my hands now. Beg for my cock after that, pretty girl.”

His knee lifts to sit tightly in between your thighs, and you moan at the small act. “You’re so fucking pretty,” he breathes, mouth at the nape of your neck to bite down there sharply, as your hips stutter to drag over his thick thigh. It sends an unbearable amount of pressure to his center, enough to make him pause. You don’t let him though, squeezing and grabbing at any skin you can get your hands on, as you successfully roll your hips on his thigh. A high pitched noise trembles from your tongue. “Aren’t you a desperate, little girl? Look at you rubbing yourself all over my thigh.”

You just nod harshly, opening your eyes to look at the brunet with a heat-filled need. “K- Kenji,” you whisper, digging your nails into his bicep as he pushes his leg harder into your center, “fuck, holy fuck, please.” Your gorgeous expression right now is priceless.

“You’re soaking through your panties, aren’t you?” His one hand moves past the dress and under your bra to grab you without shame. Your eyes shut with a sharp breath in. “Aren’t you, angel?” he repeats, dark tone pressed to the softness of your cheek. You breathe a faint ‘yes’, probably, but Kenji’s not sure.

He maneuvers your chin sideways to access the untouched side of your neck, and sucks down there with a feverous breath of his own. Fucking shit, he wishes he’d done this a million times over already. You leave him starstruck. As your slicking cunt moves over his thigh in a punishing rhythm, he squeezes hard at your tits, and rolls your sensitive bud between his thumb and index finger. “Use your words for me, I know you can. You’re normally so mouthy.” It’s too much for you, you suddenly pull his head away from your neck and quiver in his hold.

“I— I’m,” his free hand moves to wrap your one thigh around him, not bothered by the interruption in the slightest, “I need to…” You don’t finish your sentence when he ruts his hips to your core, making the both of you moan. God, he wants nothing more than to have you right here, make you see who you belong to. But he’s too selfish to give in so easily. You try again, hooded eyes on him as you jut out your bottom lip. “Daddy— please, fuck— I’m close.” The words alone make his dick even harder, if possible. It might not be long or he bursts, with how tight his pants are wrapped around him.

The smile he gives you is a genuine one. “You wanna cum? You wanna cream all over me, have everyone know how good I can make you feel?” You wrap your hand around his forearm for support. “Do it then.” The desperate roll of your hips to his clothed dick speeds up, each bit of friction to your clit getting you closer. With a devilish smirk that fights its way to his face, he pinches your nipples, not letting your hips still on his thigh. When he bites down on the soft of your neck you buck against him and fall over the edge, nails digging into his back and arm hard.

“Fuck— fuckfuck oh-fuck, ahng, daddy!” You slump into him through the lingering high as he keeps grinding into you until you whine at the rough fabric of his jeans against your slicked, almost translucent panties. His free hand dips smoothly under your dress and past your ruined panties.

“God, you are soaked, baby.” Your wetness is sure to stain a dark patch on his pants.

“Ahg- daddy,” you whimper, “no- more t-teasing. Wanna be full.” The leg that is pressed in between your legs parts them wider, giving him the space needed to slip his fingers under you, first one, then two. You tilt your head back, allowing him the perfect opportunity to latch his mouth back on your neck. You’re effectively dripping, allowing his long finger to slide in without any resistance. He doesn’t hesitate to add a second, enjoying your soft noises of pleasure above him as his lips suck a hickey at the top of your breast.

“Do my fingers feel good in that needy pussy?” He thrusts them inside hard to accompany his words, sending you forward into a blubbering mess. The only thing he can make out is the word ‘yes’, that you chant a million times. You’re so responsive, it’s adorable. His fingers move smoothly in and out of you with a curl, leaving you moaning through the stretch. But he doesn’t stay this kind for long, needy in his touches as much as you are. He pulls back to watch you squirm on his hand and lock your thigh around his body, fingers thrusting in and out with obscene noises and delivering a slap to your clit every time skin connects to skin. “You’re such a little slut. I would’ve stuffed you each fucking night and morning if I knew.”

You’re pinned under his sharp movements, arms wrapped around his neck to keep him close and breathing hot and heavy against his skin. “Feels so good, your fingers -ahn- feel- amazing.” And every time he jams them into your tight hole, thumb rubbing over your clit, you seem to clench harder around his hand. He adds a third finger, smiling at the whines you let out, and curls his fingers as much as possible, until the rhythm becomes too much to bear.

Your body bends entirely under his will, as you whimper. “God— fucking shit, I’m gonna come again.” A soft whine, before your face tilts towards him with two shaky breaths. “Kiss me daddy, please— oh, please, don’t stop.”

He wouldn’t stop even if someone paid him to do so. He gives in, moving his free hand to your jaw to grab it tight, and pushes his lips back on yours harshly. His thick fingers spread you thin as you clench around him, and his thumb setting an unrelenting pace. It doesn’t take long until you’re coming all over his hand and thigh even harder, moaning into his mouth with an iron grip on his shoulders. You dissolve in his arms as he doesn’t let up on your clit until you’re effectively shaking, body jerking with aftershocks. His hand stills in you for a moment as you come down from your high, mouth hung open.

And then you open your eyes at him, and send him the world’s sweetest smile, and he’s totally lost for you. He’ll be yours, and just yours. He’ll make it worth the wait. “Good?” he whispers into your ear, covering your body with his as much as possible when he pulls his fingers out of you, and unwraps your thigh from his body. Your cum and arousal drips down your both thighs as you nod your head, still holding onto him for support. He nods in agreement once, before pressing a kiss to your cheek and pulling away from you. He slides his fingers into his own mouth to clean them off one by one, enjoying the shell-shocked look on your face as he does so.

“That’s it, pretty baby,” he says, “almost made me cum too.” He reaches down in between your thighs once more to swipe up the trails of your cum and reaches up to hover them over your lips, to which you respond by eagerly taking his fingers in yours, and cleaning those off with your soft tongue too. The visual only reminds him of how hard his cock is, and how badly he needs you. You finish off with a soft pop, before looking down at the floor with coloring cheeks. “Good girl.”

He looks around for a moment to catch his bearings, before looking back over at you where you’re fixing your dress back over your body. “Let’s find a room upstairs so I can fuck you stupid.” Your big eyes find his with a dark burning desire still. “I want to have you creaming on my cock too, before I confess my undying love.”

“Yes please.”

[orwocolor]

Love Thy Neighbour - Chapter Two

Pairing: Gwilym Lee x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Nothing.

Summary: Party time! Gwilym hosts a housewarming party and you’re one of the guests.

Author’s Note: Feedback is always appreciated :) Check my masterlist to find the preceding parts. As always, this fic is dedicated to @justgwilym.

“So, I thought that we should surprise Charlotte and throw her a birthday party,” Jane announces as soon as you pick up your phone.

“Yeah, that sounds great! Is it gonna be just an ordinary birthday party or something themed?” You hitch your bag up your shoulder and take three grocery bags into a hand while pressing the phone to your ear so that you can hear Jane. The traffic around you is crazy today. Honking of horns and a swear word here and there from nervous drivers create a cacophony of sounds in which those you wish to hear die down.

“I beg your pardon, my dear, but no celebration I hold is ordinary,” Jane scoffs and you roll your eyes.

“Ok, but is it going to be themed or not? If you want to force me into a disco-themed outfit like the last time, I wanna know beforehand, so I can pretend illness.”

“Hush, you loved it.”

You chuckle into your phone while you wait for the green light.

“But no, I plan on–” Jane’s words on the other end are drowned by the roar of a passing motorcycle.  

“Sorry, what?” you shout. Your bag keeps sliding down your shoulder and you huff as you fail to hoist it up, with one hand grasping your phone and the other full as well, as the handles of the plastic bags dig into your skin.

“I said,” Jane raises her voice to the maximum and you jerk your head away from the phone. You pity everyone who’s standing right next to her when the volume is enough for your ear to start ringing, “I plan on throwing a themed party, however, there are no costumes required.”  

“Oh, thank God!” You push your way through a group of teenagers and reach your home. “Hang on, I just…” You’re trying to figure out how to unlock and open the main door with all the stuff that you’re carrying and the phone in your hands. Jane continues in her monologue as if you didn’t say anything, but you pay her little attention. You squeeze the mobile in between your ear and shoulder, twisting your neck in a most uncomfortable angle. While the grocery bags form deep dark red lines on your right hand, you unzip the bag on your shoulder with the left, but as you dig down to fish your keys, the bag skids down the smooth material of your jacket and you barely catch it before it drops down.

You see a movement on the other side of the door through a long glass windowpane, but your own reflection blocks out the view. Suddenly, the door opens as if on its own accord.

“Hello,” Gwil greets you with a wide smile on his face and holds the door for you to come in.

“Thanks,” you mouth as Jane continues to list all perks of the last birthday party you organised for Charlotte.

“And what was so bad about your outfit? It was perfect!” she argues, quite poorly, in your opinion.

“Let’s just say that the days of me wearing spandex bell-bottoms are long gone.”

Gwilym snorts and gives you an amused look, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

“What? Why?”

“Look, I gotta go, I’ll call you later and we’ll plan everything, okay?”

Placing the bags on the floor, you say your goodbye and hang up the phone.

“Hi,” you greet Gwil properly, tossing your phone into your bag and finally digging out the keys.

“I’ll help you,” he says as you move to lift the plastic bags, but Gwil beats you to it and grasps the handles easily in his large hand.

“Thanks! And thanks for the door, too, you’re a lifesaver.” Your eyes skim over your mailbox, but there are no mails poking out of it. Good.

“You’re welcome,” he says as you begin to climb the stairs, side by side, and his lips curve in a smile matching your own. “I would just like to clarify that I was just collecting my mail when I saw you struggling out there,” he shows you the envelopes in his grasp, ��I wasn’t lurking in the shadows, waiting for your arrival or anything.”

“Well, but now it sounds like you did exactly that,” you dead-pan and enjoy the way his eyebrows raise in shock.

“I really didn’t, I swear,” he protests with vigour and you can’t resist a grin.

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” you laugh as you reach the second floor. “I’m only teasing you,” you smirk, and he breathes a sigh of relief, a light shade of pink gracing his cheeks.

“So,” you start, “is tomorrow still on?”

“Yes, absolutely! There’ll be a few of my friends and colleagues, but nothing too big.”

“Should I bring something? A housewarming gift? What do you even like?” Damn it, you probably should, right? It would be rude to attend a party and give nothing to the host.

“Just bring your lovely self and I’ll be happy,” he flashes you a smile.

“Pff, please! That’s so cheesy! But okay, if you don’t wanna tell, I’ll figure it out myself.”

Reaching your floor, he hands you the bags and pulls out his keys.

“See you tomorrow, then.”

“At seven?”

“At seven,” he confirms.

“Bye,” you smile and turn the key in the door.

“Just one question,” Gwilym says in a suddenly very serious tone, which makes you expect the worst, “spandex bell-bottoms?”

You laugh out loud. “Don’t ask!”

~

It’s a quarter to eight when you finally get out of your apartment and ring the doorbell at Gwil’s. You didn’t want to arrive among the first guests; you wanted to be fashionably late. Okay, okay, forty-five minutes is hardly fashionable, but who could blame you? You did not dare to come when there were only a few of his friends. The only person, except for Gwil, that you know is Ben and you had to make sure that he would be there by the time you appeared. But you didn’t wish to watch the party guests heading to the flat 3C through a peephole like some kind of a pervert. So, while you were waiting, you busied yourself around your apartment, tidied up the kitchen, organised the one shelf in the hall which had been driving you up the wall every time you saw the mess inside, and watered your plants.

“You’re late,” are the first words that leave Gwil’s mouth the moment he opens the door and music reaches your ears.

You squint your eyes and nod your head. “I know, I’m sorry. There’s been a traffic jam.”

“A traffic jam. Between your flat and mine.” A small smile is playing on his lips and you catch yourself staring at his mouth. Blinking, you snap out of your daydreaming and focus on the conversation at hand.

“Uh-huh. It was awful! You should have seen it.”

“Right,” he chuckles and makes a motion for you to come in.

“Y/N!”

“Ben! Good to see you!” The blonde man wraps you in a bear hug and sways with you from side to side. It’s a bit unexpected, but once he lets go of you, you notice the bottle of beer and you guess it’s probably not his first this evening.

(What you miss, however, is the silent conversation Ben and Gwil have over your shoulder. Gwil’s eyes widen as Ben throws himself at you, and he gives him a confused, what-are-you-doing look. But all Ben does in response is raise his eyebrows in a manner that could only be translated as and-what-are-you-gonna-do-about-it.)

“I think we haven’t been introduced yet,” an unknown voice says, and you turn after the sound. You’re met with a sweet smile, kind eyes, a pointy nose, and a tuft of auburn hair. “I’m Joe, pleasure to meet you.” He squeezes your offered hand and his thumb gently strokes your inner wrist.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, Gwil’s neighbour.”

“Now, you seem like a really nice girl,” he begins and you’re listening intently, curious where this is going, “I’ve known you for only a few seconds but I can tell that you’re a good person and I don’t want you to come to harm. So, please, please, do not eat the salmon canapés. Instead, try the bruschetta, which is, in my humble opinion, far more superior. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.” He puts a hand on your shoulder, nodding solemnly.

“Nah, someone’s just a sore loser and can’t accept that people prefer my delicious canapés,” Ben explains, “because the bruschetta he talks about? It’s inedible and guess who made it.”

“How dare you, inedible?” Joe puts his hand on his chest in faking a heart attack, “you’re gonna pay for that, Hardy!”

“I forgot to order some food that the guests could nibble on, so I asked these two idiots to bring something. Should have known that this was going to change into a pissing contest,” Gwilym whispers into your ear, leaning down to you while Ben and Joe keep bickering.

“Well, I’m having fun,” you admit, and he gives you an appreciative smile. “By the way, here’s something for you.”

You pull two gift bags from behind your back and pass them to him.

“I told you not to,” he says but quickly opens them to see what’s inside.

“I wasn’t sure whether you preferred red or white, so I’ve brought both,” you tell him, all of a sudden unsure and nervous.

“I love red, but I’ve never turned down any wine. Thank you. And what’s in this?”

He takes out a neatly wrapped parcel with a dark green ribbon tied around. Delicately unsticking the tapes that hold the cardboard-brown paper together, he unwraps it without tearing it and inspects the front cover of a book. You bite your lower lip and hold your breath, waiting for his reaction.

“The Invoice by Jonas Karlsson. Wait, isn’t he the one who wrote The Room?”

“Yes! You know him?” Your heart is pounding and you can’t believe your ears. What are the odds that Gwil would know one of your most favourite authors?

“Of course, he’s excellent! Thank you so much, I’ve been meaning to buy it for ages now!” He leafs through it briefly and almost starts bouncing on the balls of his feet. “It would probably be rude to just disappear and go read it, huh? Don’t answer,” he chuckles and turns around to put the book into his bookshelf. “Come, I’ll introduce you to my friends.”

He walks you around his living room, always stopping by small groups of people. Their names are forgotten the moment they utter them as it usually is in gatherings like these when you’re met with a lot of people in a short span of time. One of the few who catches your attention is Gwil’s brother Geraint, who, according to Gwil, wasn’t invited and decided to stop by anyway.

“Can you believe that my little brother did not send me an invite to his housewarming party? Me, who actually helped him to move in? The audacity.” He shakes his head at Gwil and gives him a playful shove. What you can’t believe is someone describing Gwilym as ‘little’, since he’s anything but that. Truth be told, Geraint is probably an inch taller than his brother, but still.

“I thought you were gonna be home with the kids?”

“Shannon’s with them. I wouldn’t have missed this,” he winks.

Eventually, you end up with Ben and Joe while Gwilym tends his other guests. With a glass of wine in your hand, you look around his flat. It’s identical to yours in terms of the room arrangement, the only exception the wall that separates the living room space from the kitchen. It’s not exactly what you imagined, though. You don’t know why, but you expected a lot of grayscale tones and minimalism. Probably because Gwil looks like he’s a model who just stopped posing for a photoshoot, even whilst wearing a plain white t-shirt and jeans. No, his living room is decorated in brown, gold and green hues with a lot of knick-knacks on every flat surface. Postcards that his friends have sent from all over the world, playbills from plays he’s been in, small clay figures and drawings that his nephews and nieces have made for him, and all sorts of keepsakes.

Even though he’s been living in this flat for only a fortnight, it is apparent that he’s taken great care to make the place his home. Yes, there are still some unopened boxes hidden from prying eyes of his guests, but the flat is already homely. (Look, it was an accident that you caught a glimpse of them when you were passing his bedroom and he had forgotten to close the door.)

“So, you’re leaving in two days?”

“Yeah, need to head back home,” Joe replies, “but first, these two are going to do a pub crawl with me!” He slings his arm around Ben’s shoulder and kisses him on a cheek, “wanna join us?” His words are slightly slurred and he shifts his weight so that he basically leans against Ben.

“Sorry, I can’t. I’ve got a movie night with my friends.”

“Really? What are you guys going to watch?” Ben asks as he pushes Joe to a nearby chair.

“Don’t know yet. We’re coming over to Charlotte’s place so she’s the one who has the right to pick something.”

“Okay guys, screw you, I’m gonna watch something with Charlotte,” Joe howls from the chair.

“Nobody’s invited you, mate,” Ben chuckles and notices Gwil watching you three intently from the other side of the room. Now or never. “Erm, Y/N?” he asks and leans closer to you, “can I ask you something?” he whispers and you involuntarily shorten the distance between you, so that you can hear him.

“Yeah, sure, what is it?” you frown, finding the shift in the mood weird.

He puts his warm palm on your bare arm and starts stroking it slowly.

“I need you to do something for me.”

“Y/N! I think you haven’t tasted the cake, yet!” You and Ben jump away from each other as Gwilym suddenly materialises right next to you.

“There’s a cake?”

“Yes, there is, come on,” he insists and leads you far away from Ben.

“What are you doing?” Joe asks, confused.

“Trust me,” Ben answers, mischief sparkling in his eyes and a delighted smile on his face.

“Wow, Gwil, it looks amazing!” you say when you enter the kitchen and spot the cake on the counter, ready to be cut. It’s a naked chocolate cake with mascarpone, blueberries and raspberries. Gwilym has also put several edible flowers to create a delicate look.

“Thanks,” he blushes and rubs the back of his neck.

“And you made it?” He says yes and you’re astonished. “You need to give me the recipe. It’s incredible! My friend’s gonna have a birthday soon and I would love to make something like that for her.”

“Sure,” he smiles and after a few minutes of contemplation he adds, “or I could help you make it if you want.”

“Yes! You’re the best. Thank you.”

He pulls out a sharp knife out of the knife holder. “Would you do the honours?”

“See, it’s clear you don’t know me that much otherwise you wouldn’t trust me with sharp objects,” you laugh, taking the knife from his hand.

“I’ll take my chances,” he chuckles and lays out a bunch of dessert plates.

Working side by side, you cut the cake and place each piece on one of the plates. Every time a blueberry falls of and rolls on the counter, you play a game of catching it and promptly eating it. The first time your fingers brush Gwil’s, you’re quick to draw your hand away and let him win that round. There are no electric shocks or sparks, but the mere touch of his skin makes your breath hitch and your hands slightly tremble. But then it happens again, and again, and soon you’re grinning and nudging each other’s shoulders.

“Here, have a bite.” Gwil pushes a fork of cake towards your face and you willingly open your mouth.

The soft texture of the sponge perfectly combines with the mascarpone and the fruit provides a tang of sourness, complementing the sweetness of the chocolate cake. You catch yourself moaning involuntarily around the fork, which makes you absolutely thunderstruck, your eyes snapped wide and a shock written in your face.

“You have a bit of mascarpone…” Gwilym says and brings his thumb to a corner of your lips. However, he stops immediately, only a few millimetres away from your skin.

The door swings open out of nowhere and the bubble you have created around yourselves pops.

“Hey guys, how are you?” Joe’s smiling face pokes out of the living room, his cheeks flushed.

Gwilym clears his throat and withdraws his hand, passing you a stack of napkins. “We’re good, just about to serve the cake.” Gwilym points to the plates in front of him and Joe immediately pushes a chair to the counter, takes one plate and starts shovelling down the piece of cake.

Wiping your mouth clean, you look at the clock. “Actually, I have to go. I work weekends and I’ve got an early shift tomorrow.”

“What? I thought…” Gwilym begins to say when Ben bursts into the kitchen.

“Joe, what the hell? What were you thinking?”

“Look, Ben, I’m going home. Hopefully, we’ll see each other again soon, okay?” You give him a hug. “And Joe, don’t get too drunk tomorrow. Travelling by plane when hungover is no walk in the park.” You turn to Gwilym and clasp your hands, tugging at your fingers in a jittery manner. “I guess we’ll run into each other soon again. See you, guys!”

And with that, you leave the kitchen and head towards the door, waving at Geraint, who reciprocates the gesture with a smile.

“Y/N, wait!” Gwil rushes after you and catches up with you right at the moment you open the door. “I just wanted to thank you, for everything. It was really nice to have you here.” He takes you by surprise when he gives you a quick hug and presses a light kiss on your cheek.

“Yeah, I had the time of my life, really,” you smile when he lets go of you, hoping that the butterflies you feel in your stomach are invisible to everyone else, “love what you’ve done with the place.”

“Thanks,” he says sheepishly. “I would love to be a gentleman and walk you home, but…” he points to the few feet between your flats.

“Yeah, I think I’ll manage,” you chuckle and move to your door, “goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Shutting the door behind you, your fingers touch your cheek as the ghost of the kiss makes your skin tingle with excitement.

[happy-meo]

Masquerade 2.1: The Birth of Red Mask

Nothing changes people more than other people. 

These 2.somethings will consist of little drabbles related to the characters in Masquerade II. (Mostly, Red Mask, because he is a complex character and there is still a lot to tell about his story, but the other characters will probably get their own drabbles eventually too ^_^)

If you haven’t already, please read Masquerade II first !!

Summary: Join Red Mask in this flashback to find out what exactly happened in his past that led him to become the very alluring man we had grown to love so dearly. 

Park Jimin ft. other characters

High school au

Some fluff, some smut, a bit of comedy, a bit of angst

A/N: I made this drabble in first person so hopefully it’s not a bit weird. It’ll be told from Jimin’s POV because I wanted you all to get a little bit deeper inside his head and hear his hopefully somewhat relatable inner monologues, so I decided to stray from my usual POV style. Please read it as if you were listening to Jimin telling you this story! Enjoy! ^_^

            I wasn't always Red Mask.

           Contrary to what I made everyone believe, I wasn't always this charming, good looking, attractive, sexy, incredibly skilled --

           "PARK JIMIN, please get on with your flashback!"

           You get the gist.

           I wasn't always the person that you've all met. In fact, I was pretty much different. I was naive and gullible. Unconfident and timid.

           Back in my younger days, I didn't think much about love. Love and relationships, to me, were just some sort of rite of passage. Everybody would get love. Everybody that was older than me was in a relationship. And one day soon, it was going to be my turn.

           Love to me back then was probably what most children envisioned. The passion, the romance, the butterflies, the awkward moments that end up being romantic and cute anyway. The perfect girl was someone whose hair billowed in nonexistent wind when she walked into the room, and she would flash you a smile that would stop your world for a few seconds. And when your eyes locked, you both would know that you two were destined for each other.

           Love to me seemed so simple.

           Once two people liked each other, that was that. Happily ever after!

           So I fell in "love" constantly. I use quotation marks because who, at such a young age, could truly say they were in love with someone they hardly knew? Someone they fantasized about; someone they saw through a beauty filter; someone who they thought was perfect.

           I had many, many crushes. And while I was always a proponent of nice guys being the best choice, it never turned out that way.

           I was just average in all fields. I didn't stand out particularly. I was decent looking, but not enough to turn heads. I still possessed some of my baby fat and I later found that that made me look more childish than attractive to others. While all the girls were sweet and friendly to me, I soon realized it was because I was harmless to them.

           They didn't even consider me an option.

           I was always, always friend-zoned.

           But I didn't give up. No, I just stepped up my game. I found things I was good at-- dancing, drawing, singing-- and I tried to use that to my advantage.

           You could say Red Mask was born from the culmination of rejections and excuses that I was given throughout my years. Every time I heard "I'm sorry I don't think of you like that" or an "Oh you're a great friend Jimin, but I don't have feelings for you" or my favorite one, "Oh no. I really like your friend...does he know that you like me? Can you put in a good word for me?", I began losing my ideals and beliefs about love. That foolish yet elusive feeling.

           I became frustrated. What was I lacking? What was not good enough about me? People who I considered less talented and less good looking than me were getting girlfriends, why was I asking all the wrong ones out? Why wouldn't anyone give me a chance??

           But then in high school, someone finally did.

           Let's call her Temptress.

           Because she was seduction personified. She was one of the girls that bloomed early and filled in her uniform well. She walked with dignified confidence, with her large chest out and a bright smile. She knew that the boys went crazy when she smoothed her fingers through her hair, and she would lock eyes with you if you were staring, just to fluster you. Even the girls befriended her out of envy.

           She was the alpha female of my class.

           And like most of the guys in the school, I immediately fell for her.

           I gave her homework when and if she forgot it, which was often. I let her copy off my tests just so she would flash me one of her smiles and nudge me while saying, "Thanks, stud!". I literally melted into my seat whenever she called me that.

           Eventually, I confessed that I liked her, expecting to get rejected of course, but I just couldn't hold my feelings in anymore.

           "I like you!" I yelled as I handed her a bouquet of roses.

           She smiled sweetly and took the flowers out of my grip. I perked up expectantly.

           "Jimin." she called as she cupped my chin with one hand so I could look up at her.

           I gulped. "Yes?"

           "Have you ever been with a girl?"

           I, of course, being the honest, innocent kid I was, shook my head. "Never."

           "So you've never...kissed anyone before?"

           She traced my lips with her delicate fingers and my heart was racing faster than an ambulance at this point. No girl had ever been this close to me, much less touched my face. It was almost always a light smack on the shoulder as a sign of gratitude or a reflex if they were laughing at something funny.

           "N-n-no." I stammered foolishly and then mentally kicked myself for being so uncool.

           "Aww..." she pouted. "Poor Jiminnie."

           She leaned closer to my face, and I can honestly remember my eyes bulging out of its sockets. I wasn't prepared. Yes, I had fantasized kissing girls more often than I'd like to admit, and in middle school, I embarrassingly tried teaching myself by watching videos and kissing pillows, but obviously those never prepared me for the real life event.

           I panicked as ten thousand plans and questions ran through my mind.

           Should I stick my lips out? Did she want tongue? What the hell do I even do with my tongue when it's in there? (Videos don't really show us what's happening in there, you know, for aesthetic purposes.)

           Oh my goodness, did I brush my teeth? What did I eat for lunch? Oh no, do I have bad breath? What if she hates it after this? What if I'm TERRIBLE? How should I move my lips? Is it slow? Fast? What is slow or fast? Should I just run? What if she's not even kissing me and I'm freaking myself out? Oh wait, I should close my eyes. Right, that's step one.

           So I shut my eyes tightly and pursed my lips out.

           And she chuckled.

           I felt my cheeks warm up immediately. Well, chuckling was definitely not what I expected to happen in this situation. Did I screw up already?

           "You're so cute, Park Jimin."

           The Temptress called me CUTE. I was literally soaring, having an out of body experience.

           "Relax and follow me." she whispered.

           Surprisingly, she didn't back away. She simply traced my lips again to relax me and I felt my knees buckle with the sensation. Suddenly, I felt her soft lips against mine, and I pushed forward eagerly. She pulled back and laughed.

           "I told you to follow me." she repeated. "I'll show you how to kiss."

           My heart was beating rapidly. The most popular and gorgeous girl at my school just KISSED me and she's KISSING ME AGAIN. She leaned back in and this time, I closed my eyes slowly, and took in the full feeling of her lips.

           It was steady at first. Like what little kids do to each other because they were mimicking their parents. Lip to lip, we stood there for a few seconds not moving, but despite the lack of action, I still felt my entire being tingling. Then without warning, she parted my lips with hers and slipped her lips into the space between easily. She grabbed arms and pulled our bodies flush together. I literally felt like I was on fire.

           The kiss was a bit...wetter...than I had imagined it to be. And there were no big fireworks or angels singing or anything, but damn did it feel good, especially with her breasts squishing into my chest.

           I was a hormonal teenager (but I guess that much hasn't changed about me) and I felt my male instincts being enflamed. I followed her lead clumsily. Our teeth clashed together a lot because I really had no idea about the spatial awareness between our lips, or anything for that matter. I was just so enthused about being kissed by my crush that all I could think about was keeping my lips on hers forever. Kindly, she didn't scold me or make fun of my lack of skill. She just pulled back a bit, adjusting herself, and kept on kissing me until I found the proper rhythm.

           Every time I made a mistake, I would apologize, but she would hear none of it and just grab my face to go back at it again. Eventually, I felt comfortable enough to grab her waist, and as if I had passed the first round boss, she gave me a reward that caused my knees to buckle immediately. Her tongue snaked into my mouth and slid against mine.

           OH. That's what it did.

           "Oh Jimin." she cracked up as I literally gasped for air and stumbled back. I had lost all ability to breathe with the new sensation. Frankly, everything about the moment was overwhelming.

           Here was a beautiful girl kissing me...a lot. And not to mention that I had had the biggest crush on her for a year now. I had my first kiss and my first French kiss on the same day with the hottest girl I had ever seen.

           Talk about saving my luck.

           "Breathe Jimin. You did good." she smiled and patted my back. "Would you like to learn more things from me?"

           My eyes widened. Was that her way of saying yes? Who was I to turn that offer down?

           "Yes, please." I squeaked out breathlessly.

           "Perfect." She kissed me deeply and I swear I almost fainted on the spot. "I'll meet you here, same time, tomorrow?"

           Obviously, I showed up bright-eyed and eager to learn the very next day. Maybe a little too eager because I showed up an hour early.

           But anyway, for an entire two weeks, we made out constantly after school. Each day, I learned new techniques by following her lead. And soon, I was pulling her moves out on her and she would become more aggressive. Until one day, on our third week of us being girlfriend and boyfriend, she invited me over her house.

           Boy, I was REALLY not prepared for what she had in mind.

           Shakily, I rang her doorbell, holding my books to my chest tightly. When the door swung open, she welcomed me wearing a thin, satin robe that left nothing to the imagination. My grip slackened and my books scattered onto the ground as I gulped. Immediately, my hands flew in front of my face to cover my eyes.

           "Wh-wha-- I'm sorry! I shouldn't have come so early before you got to change!" I panicked.

           Temptress chuckled and pried my hands away from my face. My eyes respectfully stared above her head, not wanting to gawk at her clearly exposed body. I had never seen a naked girl in real life before. Sure, there were magazines and videos...but it was like watching a movie or reading a book. But this...this was beyond anything I had imagined, my body was hyperaware of all her curves and I found myself wondering how soft women actually felt.

           I shook my head and turned around, embarrassed as she bent down to pick up my books. Her cleavage was deep and the sides of her breasts were peeking out from the thin fabric.

           "You're so cute Jimin." she giggled. "Come in. I've been waiting for you like this."

           I stepped inside backwards, still not wanting to rake my eyes over her body, in fear that I would do something she didn't like.

           "I-I thought we were just going to do homework and watch TV together." I stumbled a little.  

           "No Jimin." she chuckled as she grabbed my shoulders to turn me around. "When a girl invites you over after making out with you several times, they most likely mean they want to have sex with you."

           "S-S-SEX?"

           "Yes. Please tell me you've at least HEARD of sex, my innocent little nugget." she squeezed my cheeks.

           "Of course I have...I just...well... I thought we'd at least...you know love each other before thinking about that."

           "Oh Jimin." she shook her head and threw off her satin robe boldly. "So are you saying you don't want to have sex with me?"

           I felt my cock twitch as my eyes were now fully allowed to peruse her body. Nothing compared to seeing a real, live, lingerie-clad female in front of me.

           "Can I?" I reached my hand out towards her breasts curiously.

           "Please." She took my hands and put both of them on each boob.

           "Oh my gosh." I gasped as I just cupped them awkwardly; my hand a little stiff, like they would pop if I pressed too hard. "Now what do I do?"

           "Massage them Jimin."

           "Um...okay..." I moved my hands in small circles.

           "Jimin, they're not going to break, massage hard." she guided my hands. "Make me feel good."

           "O-o-okay..."

           I was sure my entire face and neck was red. Was it out of embarrassment? Out of excitement? I couldn't exactly remember the emotion that overwhelmed me at that point. But regardless, I had never seen, much less touched a real breast before and there I was, massaging two for the first time. I hadn't even gotten this far in my research on women.

           "Come here, Jimin." she whispered, tilting my chin up so she could swipe her tongue across my lip.

           I moaned as her lips traveled down to my neck, as it usually did when our make out sessions escalated passionately. As a reaction, my hands worked her breast hard. My thumb accidentally swiped across her nipple through the see-through lacy fabric and I felt myself harden when she breathed desperately into my neck. Enlightened, I repeated the motion and found that it had her react in the best way. She nipped at my neck and brought her hips closer to my erection. So mustering my courage, I began drawing small circles around her nipples gently. She began grinding into me, her voice breathy and needy.

           "Come with me." she grabbed my hand and led me to her bedroom. "Get on the bed."

           I nodded meekly. I was unprepared, but there was no way I was going to break this series of events. She wanted me. She wanted to have sex with me. Something I had only dreamt about. Something I thought I wouldn't get to experience until much, much later in life.

           I lay on the bed and watched her shut her door softly. She had a supple ass, round and perky, and her legs were fairly toned. If I remember correctly, she was an athlete of sorts. My thoughts stopped short when I watched her hands come up behind her to unclip her bra. My mouth immediately became dry and there was a fire of need brewing in my lower region. My pants suddenly felt too restricting.

           "Would you like to taste?" she smirked, probably seeing the way I was gawking at her like a starving child.

           All I could do was nod and she climbed over me. My eyes were wide with awe as she lowered her breasts in front of my face. What was I supposed to do?

           "Have a taste." she urged.

           "Um..." I looked around nervously. "Is like...milk going to come out or something?"

           She threw her head back and laughed. I felt myself press my body further into her bed, ashamed.

           "No, Jimin." she looked down at me amused. "But it's going to make me feel really good."

           "Um so...like..." I nervously stuck my tongue out and licked her nipple.

           Her body reacted almost instantaneously. She sighed and her elbows buckled a little. I felt empowered so I did the same thing.

           "Suck on it, please." she pleaded and I covered as much of her breast with my mouth. "The other hand, play with my other one."

           I followed her instructions obediently, and watched in surprise as those simple actions had her whispering my name and rolling her hips into mine. What was this magic?

           "I'm so wet for you Jimin." she hummed.

           I raised an eyebrow. Wet? Did that mean I was using too much saliva on her boobs? But it didn't sound like a bad thing.

           As if seeing my confusion, she chuckled and pulled herself out of my mouth.

           "I'm wet for you down there." she explained.

           Oh.

           I gulped as she tugged her panties down and rolled over on her back beside me.

           "Would you like to feel?"

           I nodded, my words still failing me.

           "Give me your hand." I did so, and she guided my fingers lower and lower...until I felt something sticky and warm. I flinched a little. What the heck was that?

           "That's how good you made me feel." she smiled. "I'll show you how to make me scream your name and beg for more."

           I blinked. Those words flustered me, but something inside me really wanted to hear her screaming my name and begging for me, so I moved down so I could see her entrance clearly. It wasn't as attractive as I thought it'd be. A valley of pink folds lay in front of my fingers, and I had no idea what to do about them.

           She still held my hand, guiding my thumb over a certain part of herself and she gently had me rub it. She winced and moaned, throwing her head back. I panicked, thinking that I was hurting her, but she gripped my wrist to continue. Worriedly and carefully, I continued as she writhed under my touch.

           "Put a finger inside me." she instructed.

           I furrowed my brows. "Where...uh... "

           She smiled and grabbed my index finger, pushing it into one of her holes as I spazzed out at the tightness. Something was clenching around my finger and I was afraid to go any further inside. Just how far did this go? It was a weird feeling. My finger felt like they had just dipped themselves in a narrow jar of thinned out honey.

           But she shoved my finger inside and cried out. My cheeks were flushed because as scared as I was that she was in pain, her noises were turning me on. My boxers were soaked already just from how she sounded and looked. She hadn't even touched me yet. I shivered at the thought.

           "Push in and out." She panted, and I began moving my finger in and out of her hole, mesmerized by the way my finger disappeared and reappeared; by the way she clutched the sheets and bucked her hips up at the command of my index finger. "Add another."

           "But--" I protested. There was no way another finger would fit.

           "Do it...please." she begged.

           Did she like pain? I pushed both my index and middle finger inside her and found her stretching accordingly to the size, much to my surprise. She yelped loudly.

           "Oh my god, Jimin."

           I decided that I very much loved hearing that phrase, in that manner, in that tone. I smirked and began pushing in and out of her with my finger.

           "Jimin..." she heaved. "Remember that place where you rubbed your thumb before?"

           I nodded as I concentrated on my fingers staying in the proper hole, maintaining the proper rhythm.

           "I need your tongue there."

           I looked at her in disbelief. She wanted my tongue...where?

           "My tongue?"

           "Yes, taste me. Please."

           My ears warmed at her request, but I couldn't refuse. I licked my lips nervously. Was it edible? Would I die? Would I gag? Would she taste okay? I flicked my tongue out and pretended like I was licking ice cream; my fingers still continuing their motion.

           "Mmm..." I hummed. She didn't taste bad at all. It was soft. It kind of felt like a small version of her lips. Her hips began moving wildly as my tongue worked its way again.

           "Oh my gosh. Yes. Like that." she moaned and it ignited my confidence. My body took over, wanting to taste every inch of her nether region, wanting to see how deep my fingers went. Suddenly, I felt myself being ripped from the steady motion, only to have her tongue enter my mouth. The thought of her tasting herself was a bit nauseating, but I shoved that thought away when I felt her unzipping my pants.

           "Wh-wha--" I was flustered and climbed off the bed nervously.

           "I need to return the favor." she grinned as she approached me, and pulled down my pants, boxers and all, in one motion.

           I covered my cock timidly. I felt so exposed. I was worried about what she thought of my body.

           "Hands off." she swatted them away as she knelt down, and stared at me hungrily.

           Was that a good or bad thing?

           Then she opened her mouth and dipped her head down my entire length. I stumbled backwards slightly, but her grip on my hip steadied me. My eyes rolled back at the wave of pleasure that had just coursed through my body.

           "Oh...oh my..." I moaned as she bobbed her head back and forth.

           I looked down and felt like I was about to faint at the sight. For some reason, it was extremely hott. She was on her knees in front of me, humming happily as she pleasured me expertly. And to top it off, this wasn't a dream. It was reality. She was sucking me off and enjoying it. And when she added her tongue to the mix, my hand instinctively grabbed her head and slammed myself deeper into her throat. Then I realized what I was doing.

           "I'm so sor--"

           "Do it again." she looked up at me in pure delight. "I liked it."

           She covered my length again and I bucked into her, gripping her hair tightly to keep my sanity. I needed more. I wanted more. This felt so good, it was indescribable. I was addicted. But just when I thought it was already wonderful enough, she pulled away and stated something that had me leaking shamefully.

           "I need you inside me."

           When I agreed with her using a subtle nod, she handed me a condom wrapper, "Here. I'm not planning to get pregnant anytime soon, so I always have some protection on me."

           I nodded understandably and fumbled to open it with much difficulty. I must've looked extremely foolish because she gently ripped it open for me. With my hands shaking, I took the rubber and tried to line it with the tip of my cock, but it kept missing. I was growing anxious by the second.

           "Relax." she guided my hands and I was able to roll it down easily.

           I took a deep breath. I still couldn't wrap my head around the fact that this was all happening.

           "Since it's your first time, how about I top for now?"

           "Top what?" I tilted my head inquisitively.

           She looked at me amused. "Lay on the bed, Jimin."

           I got back into the sea of blankets, my heart racing incredibly fast. I was dazed and beyond myself. I wanted the pleasure back, the high that I was climbing to a few minutes ago with her mouth around my dick. I felt the bed dip a few seconds later and she soon straddled me. Her warmth was right above my cock and my breathing became labored as she pushed herself down. I groaned and grabbed her thighs tightly. What was this feeling of unrivaled pleasure and electricity? My blood rushed downwards and I was sweating profusely. This had to be illegal.

           But I was wrong.

           When she started riding me, first slowly then roughly, THAT was illegal. Embarrassingly though, I finished quickly, releasing myself before she even built up to her climax. But she didn't press further; she slid off of me with a satisfied smile.

           "It happens during your first time. Don't worry." she cuddled beside me after I had thrown the condom out and plopped onto the bed. I was extremely sleepy and exhausted for some reason. I hadn't even done much, but it felt like I had worked out intensely. "We'll be doing this a lot more often and you'll be great."

           She whispered into my ear as I was lulled into sleep.

           And she was true to her word. Every time we met up, it would end up with our bodies tangled in her bed, sweaty and panting. She taught me a lot, and I learned a lot about women and my own body from our sessions. We hardly saw each other in school, but knowing that we had a set time to meet up afterwards, made it all better. I mean, girlfriends and boyfriends didn't HAVE to be attached to each other all day. Although, I did really want to walk to class holding her hand, flaunting that I, Park Jimin, was dating the Temptress.

           But I soon found that I had been deluding myself all along.

           I decided to search for her during lunch time one day. I had seen her walk out with one of the popular guys so I followed her, worried that he would ask her out or something like that. I lost their track, so I wandered around. They were heading towards the bleachers for some reason so I perused the area. I was about to give up when I heard a very familiar moan coming from underneath the bleachers.

           Nervously, I journeyed there and found the popular guy rocking into her roughly while she grinned, her face painted with pleasure. I stood there in horror. I knew I should've ran. I knew I shouldn't have stared, but I was floored. What was she doing? Why was she looking so happy to have someone else inside her? Why?

           They both finished and only then did she notice me.

           "Oh. Jimin. Hi!" She beamed as she patted down her skirt. She dangerously had no underwear underneath, but it had given the other man easy access. "Did you want some to? It'll be easy to slip inside me now."

           I stared at her, nearing tears.

           "Why...what're you..." I couldn't form any coherent sentences because I was so overwhelmingly upset.

           "Oh honey. Did you really think I was your girlfriend?" she chuckled as she walked over to me.

           "But you kissed me and we had..." I leaned over to whisper (because I thought it was such a taboo word at the time). "...sex."

           "Oh Jimin." she looked at me sympathetically. "I felt sorry for you. It was clear you were new to everything and I wanted to help you out."

           "What? But the sex...you said I was amazing. It felt amazing!"

           "Oh sweetie." She giggled as the popular guy approached her, giving her a warm embrace from behind. "Sex feels amazing even when you don't love someone. And most of the time, people don't do it for love anymore. That's so old fashioned. And if you wanted it to be so special, don't you think you should've been more careful about who you had your first time with?"

           She cupped my face gently, and I was torn between chucking her hand away, having seen her touching another man with it, and holding onto it tightly, afraid that the only girl who had ever shown interest in me would disappear.

           "You have a lot of potential, Jimin. I sensed it in you all along. Out of all the guys I taught, your skills genuinely turned me on. And if you're looking to learn more in the bedroom, you know how to reach me. I really think you would be fantastic in bed with more lessons. But let's make it clear that this doesn't mean we're in a relationship, okay?"

           I hung my head down, mind blown. In those few minutes, my entire notion of love and sex was shattered. But I nodded. If there was one thing I understood from everything she said, it was that she didn't love me at all.

           But I refused to believe that she didn't like me.

           I remained naive and foolish, and I continued to go for lessons at her house, doing my best to learn how to please her, reveling in the way she focused on just me when my fingers or my dick was inside her. Just for that moment in time, I wanted to believe that she was attracted to me, that if I could show her just how amazing I was in bed, she wouldn't need to go to anyone else. I was determined to make her fall for me, by being the best of her pupils.  

           But one day, my plans were foiled.

           "Jimin. We have to stop this." She smiled warmly. She had asked to see me after school and I thought we were going to try something new excitedly. But she had actually called me out to sever whatever it was that we were doing. "I found someone that I want to keep forever."

           "What?" I felt the wind get knocked out of me.

           "I have a boyfriend now, and you've honestly learned everything I could teach you and mastered it." she grinned as she caressed my cheek. "I am so proud of you."

           In anger, I slapped her hand away and sprinted from her, ignoring her calling my name. If she had wanted a boyfriend, why hadn't she chosen me? If she had wanted to be in a stable relationship, I was always there, waiting for her. I was infuriated and couldn't see which way I was going so I ended up bumping into someone in the middle of the hallway.

           In my rage and pain, only one thought coursed through me --I wanted to feel someone want me, even if it was forcefully. The girl looked up at me surprised as I stared at her. She was pretty. So I grabbed her face and pressed my lips against hers. She struggled a bit, but soon relaxed and kissed me back.

           "Do you want to have sex with me?" I breathed desperately against her lips.

           Surprisingly, she nodded, blushing profusely. So I took her to an empty classroom and pleasured her the only way I knew how. I touched her the way the Temptress enjoyed, finding that it wasn't just specific to her; it worked on girls in general. I was prepared with a condom, and I released my frustrations and desires into this girl, who just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. But she had agreed without questions, so I just let go and did what I wanted until we were both satisfied.

           "Wow...that was great..." the girl heaved as she slipped back into her uniform.

           "Yeah. Thanks. I needed to just get that out of my system." I ruffled my hair.

           "What?"

           "Thanks for that." I smiled at her.

           "Wait...you didn't have feelings for me?"

           "Oh...no. I'm not even sure who you are." I blinked.

           In the next second, I felt a sting on my cheek, and it didn't dawn on me until a few seconds after that I had just gotten slapped.

           "We've been in the same class for years you asshole!" She hissed and ran out of the classroom, leaving me stunned, but not feeling guilty in the slightest.

           It was her fault for making assumptions, just as it was mine with Temptress. 

          So with renewed vigor, I pursued Temptress seriously this time around. My pride and my social standing didn't matter anymore as long as it ended with me getting her. I professed my love to her childishly and boldly. In front of school, in the middle of school, after school. I showered her with roses, made her lunch, anything that I could think of to have her look my way.

           But she soon had enough.

           "I need you to stop this, Jimin. I will never be with you. You need to get over me and move on." Temptress crossed her arms angrily.

           "You're the only girl I ever wanted to be with. I wanted the person I shared my first time with to be my one and only. I truly believe that we're meant to be." I confessed desperately.

           "Jimin, whatever you think we were is only in your head. I was seeing about five other guys while we were having lessons. And I slept with someone right after you left my house every single time we had sex." she admitted.

           I gawked at her, not believing what I was hearing. I really wasn't the only one. I never was the only one.

           "Jimin. You're forcing your ideals and desires on me when you don't know the first thing about me. And besides, love hurts. So why bother with it? Sex is enough to keep me happy. I don't want anything other than that. It's too much."

           "But you have a boyfriend?"

           She laughed. "Yeah. He's hott, fantastic in bed, and rich, but I don't love him. I do want to keep him as long as I can though."

           I collapsed on my knees, overwhelmed.

           "Goodbye Jimin."

           As she walked away, I felt my world crashing down and I wondered if everybody around me was actually the person I was seeing. Did everyone have a darker side to them? Did everyone feel this nonchalant about hurting someone else? Did everyone think of love as something so trivial and unnecessary? Was I not worth loving?

           I was filled with doubts and trust issues. I was terrified of getting hurt again. Day after day, I was traumatized by past memories and the unknown future, all the times that I had gotten rejected.

           To make matters worse, the girl that had turned out to be in the same class as me, had told everyone about how I had used her. I was permanently labeled as a playboy and gossips ravaged that I toyed with women's feelings, that my nice facade had all been an act to get close enough to use them for their body. 

           I was isolated, bullied, and looked down upon. The girls that had been so nice to me before distanced themselves and began looking at me with wary eyes constantly, like I had betrayed them, when in truth, it was I that had been betrayed. 

           And finally, one day, as I stared at myself in the mirror, it all clicked. A switch was flipped inside me, and I smirked at my reflection. I had had enough of it all.

           "Fine. If it's a playboy they see," I combed my hair up, exposing my forehead. "then a playboy they'll get. Park Jimin doesn't need love. Sex is enough to make me happy."

           I accepted my fate, and became the bad boy openly. Once I embraced that side of myself, I realized that women fell and swooned for me. I had the power of seduction at my fingertips all along, but I had been suppressing it, believing that nice guys were what girls wanted. Even women thought they wanted good guys, yet they still found themselves magnetized towards the bad boys for some reason.

           No longer was I friend zoned. No longer was I not seen as an option. No longer did I take a backseat to all the other guys. No longer did I set myself up to get hurt.

           Until of course, I fell in love with someone just as excellent in bed and just as attractive as I was. And it made me realize that I no longer wanted to live that kind of life and be that kind of person. So now, here I am with a successful job and a beautiful girlfriend who I am insanely in love with. And hell, I have the best sex life ever!

           Yet, when I received an ominous letter, I sat in my living room, staring at it in horror; the flood of negative emotions coming back to me. Three simple words froze time and whisked me back to the days when I was the most vulnerable, to the days that had started it all, to the days that had given birth to Red Mask: High School Reunion.

2.2: THE REUNION (COMING TOMORROW)

[rizlowwritessortof]

Fic Tag Game

I was tagged by @eyes-of-a-disney-princess - LOVE your writing, girl, and I’m so glad you finally jumped into the fan-fic abyss!! Can’t wait to read your new ones - you tease! :D

Rules: List the first lines of your last 5-10 stories.  See if there are any patterns, then tag some of your favorite authors.

I have done this before, but it’s been a while. So here goes... (under the cut)

Take a Chance

For fuck’s sake, Dean, you’ve done this a thousand times. You can charm a woman without even breaking a sweat. Why are you so damn nervous?

Because, dumbass, it’s Y/N. This time it’s not some random bar chick that I’ll probably never lay eyes on again. And I don’t want to mess things up. I don’t want to do something that’ll make everything all awkward.

I just want… I just want to be with her. Whatever that means. And I don’t even know how to say that without making things all fucking weird.

Just tell her the truth. Well, the surface truth. Say you’re bored. Take a chance.

She doesn’t need to know you hate being in a separate room from her, that you miss being around her. That you feel not all there when she’s not around, like a piece is missing. That you’re dying to touch her. Like really touch her.

Make You Mine

You climb out of the back seat, tugging your skirt down self-consciously. Dean is staring at your legs, his jaw clenched, and even Sam swallows hard, then turns away.

“Does it look that bad?” you ask, worried for a moment that maybe you’re not dressed appropriately to be an FBI agent.

Sam clears his throat, and Dean growls out, “You look fine.”

You straighten your jacket, lift your chin, and get into the head space you need, a little condescending, a little no-nonsense, like you’re used to getting what you ask for. Dean gives you one more glance and, looking like he’d like to eat someone, leads the way into the police station.

You and Sam trail Dean to the front desk, standing a step behind and flashing your badges dutifully when the officer on duty asks if he can help you. “What can we do for the FBI?” he asks, just a touch of snark behind his words, and you can almost feel Dean’s thunderous frown. He’s been on edge for days, and this day seems to be a bad one. His temper has been unpredictable, his level of patience almost zero, and you cringe a little internally at what his reaction might be.

The Photo Booth

God, this fuckin’ job sucks.

I mean, I know sometimes we have to do things we don’t like to get the information we need. But we’ve been working at this broken-down piece-of-shit carnival for a week now. I’m so goddamn sick of pickin’ up people’s trash and cleaning up after sick kids.

Sam’s being a pain in the ass, too. I mean, I’m dealing with Dad’s death. As much as you can deal with something like that. He’s all up in my grill about my feelings, and all I wanna do is kill something. This damn clown/monster/whatever the hell it is. I just wanna kill something that deserves it.

Ooooh, or something more fun. There she is again. That little piece of heaven that’s been hanging around here for the last couple of days. She’s been pretty damn friendly, too. Had her coming on my fingers in the haunted house last night, she’s just sweet. But I’d like to really get into her, if you know what I mean. God, she’s wearing those little short shorts again, and she’s got a set on her that makes my mouth water. Wonder if she’s feeling friendly tonight, too…

Slow Ride

Holy. Shit.

Seriously, how much is a girl supposed to take? You share rooms with these guys, watch them walk around half-dressed, banter back and forth with them. You take Dean’s suggestive, flirty comments and respond in kind, telling yourself it’s all part of your friendship.

And then he does this.

Of all things, a mechanical bull. You thought those things died out with Urban Cowboy. But now, as you stand watching with your jaw clenched, and your nails digging into your palms, and your thighs clamped together, Dean is riding the fuck out of Larry, the centerpiece of the bar you went into for the sole reason of grabbing some burgers.

You can’t tear your eyes from him as his body sways, looking like he’s part of that saddle. The muscles of his thighs are tight, holding firm, his torso lean and lithe as he moves with it, sinuous and sexy as hell. One arm waves above his head, giving him the balance he needs, the other bicep bunched and bulging beneath the plaid shirt, unbuttoned at the front to allow your eyes to cruise over where his t-shirt clings to his pecs, his ribs, his belly.

The Contest

You sit in the booth, Dean’s arm draped over your shoulder as you lean into his chest, your legs up on the seat, beer in hand. Sam slides back into the seat across from you, answering your smile with one of his own.

It’s a good night, things have evened out for a bit, and you’re all feeling relaxed, almost contented. Sam’s new ‘friend’ had just left, saying she had to work the next day. You’re enjoying hanging with the boys, drinking a few beers. You watch the college kids, early twenties at the most, playing the same games you all used to play, trying to hook up, make some kind of connection.

You let out a happy sigh, looking up at Dean as he watches them, too, a kind of distant smile on his face.

“What?” you ask, and he looks down at you, his smile turning a little sheepish.

“I was just remembering the night… well, the night you opened my eyes.” You blush a little, ducking your head in a vain attempt to hide the amusement curving your lips, and he raises an eyebrow at you, letting loose with a stunning grin. You bump him in the belly with your elbow, and Sam stares at you with a curious gleam in his eye.

“Okay, now I want to hear this story.”

Lose Yourself

Dean is staring up at you, his lips kiss-swollen, his expression dazed and lust-drunk. He’s naked, sprawled on the bed, and you let your eyes travel over him as you consider your options.

The fact that he trusts you enough to let you do this has you on the edge already, and you revel in the delicious torture. His arms are stretched above his head, silken scarves wrapped around each wrist and secured to the headboard, and his fingers are clenched around his bonds, his forearms and biceps flexed. All you’ve done so far is strip down to your lacy black lingerie and kiss him, touching nothing else, yet you are both breathing hard, pulses pounding. His cock is hard and throbbing, leaking pre-cum over his abs, making your mouth water.

But that will have to wait.

You run a finger over his bottom lip, suppressing a shiver as his tongue darts out to touch the tip. “Doing okay, Dean?” you ask softly, looking directly into his eyes and waiting patiently for his answer.

“Fuck, yeah,” he says, the low rumble of his voice making you wince a little at the almost-painful pulse it causes between your thighs.

Patterns: I guess I kind of like the inner monologue as well, I like to hear those thoughts that nobody allows themselves to speak out loud. Especially Dean’s thoughts :) I also like the relationship aspect, the characters knowing each other long term, the complications and realizations that there could be more there than hunting partners and friends. Not that I don’t love a good one time fling, either!! :D 

I’m sure you guys have done this before, so if you don’t want to, no sweat - but I’ll tag @mrs-squirrel-chester  @littlegreenplasticsoldier  @saenalife  @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog