#put up a cute mirror above the tile wall

[passengerpigeons]

okay besides the spot of like deteriorated linoleum tile in the corner by the door i'm more and more feeling thisweird pittsburgh toilet off my bedroom. could probably just put a rug over it and then get some decor going

[wheeboo]

meet cute: the pottery class | wen junhui

SYNOPSIS. in which you choose to attend a pottery class for a solo date, not expecting to be so shy sitting next to an equally shy classmate. PAIRING. wen junhui x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, meet cute, first meetings, implied college au WARNINGS. none WORD COUNT. 2.2k

notes: welcome to your meet cute with jun!

← MEET CUTE MASTERLIST for the 1k celebration !

...a pottery class!

There have been many times where you had thoughts of one day joining a pottery class out of curiosity, but time never played in your favour and the idea had been pushed to the back of your mind. However, of course, today was different and gifted you an entire day with no deadlines and no responsibilities. It was a rare and precious blank canvas of time, and you couldn't help but wonder: why not now?

Out the window, the early afternoon sun bathes the world in a soft, golden light, and a gentle breeze swaying through the trees carries the promise of a new type of experience. So you peer at yourself one last time in the mirror and over the outfit you've chosen. Your reflection seems different𑁋a little more eager, a little more hopeful.

You quickly research the closest, good-reviewed studio, and within minutes, you find a place nearby that offers beginner pottery classes. Then you race to put on your shoes, grab your keys, and head out the door. As you step into the golden embrace of the sun, you take a deep breath, feeling the crispness of the air and the warmth of the day caress your skin. On your way to the pottery studio, you pass by the nearby park you always go to and even the old coffee shop you should visit again sometime.

When you arrive at the pottery studio, you're greeted by a charming and rustic façade, with the studio's sign hanging proudly above the door. As you make your way inside, you notice the intricate details that adorn the wooded walls𑁋pottery tools neatly organised, hand-painted ceramic tiles showcasing different glazing designs, and photographs capturing the smiles of satisfied students.

As you approach the receptionist desk, a young woman greets you with a friendly smile. "Hi, welcome to Pledis Pottery. Are you here for a class or just browsing?"

You clear your throat, hesitating for a moment. "Uh, I heard you guys offer beginner classes? If it's possible, can I sign up one for one?"

"Sure, we have a class starting in fifteen minutes. Would you like to enroll?"

"Yes, please. Thank you so much."

"Okay. And can I get a name?"

"Sure. Y/N."

The receptionist then passes you a form and you eagerly fill it out before handing it back to her. Then you sit down in a small waiting area where a few other people sat, like an older woman sitting a few chairs away from you, a couple browsing through magazines, and a cute boy in the corner who appeared to be around your age scrolling mindlessly through his phone with a small smile, which makes your gaze linger on him a bit.

You do the same to preoccupy your time waiting, shooting the occasional curious glance in the boy's direction, and before you know it, a voice gains the attention of all the eyes in the waiting area.

"If you're here for our beginners' class, you may all follow me," a woman instructs, and you already find yourself gathering your belongings before following the couple in front of you. And from behind, you can sense the boy from earlier walking suit, and the feeling brings a very subtle jump to your heart.

When you walk into the spacious classroom, your eyes widen to the shelves along the walls displaying an array of beautifully glazed pottery from intricate detailed vases to whimsical figurines. The air is filled with the earthy scent of clay, and you can see rows of pottery wheel worktables sitting in the middle of the room.

"Welcome, everyone, to the world of pottery!" the instructor exclaims enthusiastically. "Today, we'll start by getting comfortable with the basics. Pottery is a patient art form, so remember that it's okay to take your time and just enjoy the process. For now, if you all could put on an apron and take a seat, then we can get started today."

You grab an apron from a nearby rack and drape it over yourself. However, as you attempt to tie your apron securely, your lips purse together annoyingly while fumbling the fabric, feeling a bit self-conscious, but your fingers just can't seem to get a secure grip.

Just when you're starting to feel a hint of frustration, you notice that the boy from earlier at the corner of your eye calmly tying his own apron with ease. You hesitate for a moment, taking in a deep breath, before making your way in his direction.

You clear your throat awkwardly. "Um, excuse me?"

It catches his attention quite easily, and your momentarily stunned by his wide deep-set eyes peering curiously into yours, his dark brown irises meeting yours.

You feel an embarrassed flush spread through your face. "Uh, can you help me tie this apron? I can't seem to get a good knot on it."

The boy seems pensive for a moment, and you swear you can almost notice a faint rosy hue to his own cheeks, before stepping up to you with a small nod. You turn around so your back faces him, and you feel a warmth spread through you as he gently takes hold of the apron strings, his fingers brushing against yours.

After a few moments that feel like an eternity, he finally ties the apron securely. His fingers linger for just a second longer than necessary, and your heart does a little somersault, and you mentally scold yourself for being so affected by a simple gesture.

"There," he says simply, softly, voice tinged with a hint of nervousness that seems to mirror your own. "All set."

You turn to face him𑁋wow, he's tall𑁋offering a shy but appreciative smile. "Thanks."

He returns your smile sheepishly; if anything, it makes him more cute. "Yeah, of course."

There's a few moments of awkward silence as you both make your way to your own worktables, selecting ones where you are sitting next to each other. The room is filled with the sound of gentle chatter as the instructor explains the basics of pottery and the simple project of creating the shape of a bowl for today's class.

When your fingers brush against the cool, damp clay, you're struck by its cool and smooth texture. Your eyes instinctively glance to the boy beside you whose name you still don't know, and you watch his unwavering concentration as he deftly collects the clay in his hands. It almost looks like he knows what he's doing, but from the thin line at his lips, you could only assume he's a bit in the same boat as you.

You somehow muster up the courage to talk again, partly to distract yourself from the awkwardness of starting. "Is it your first time here too?"

He turns to you, and his previously concentrated expression softens, a nervous chuckle leaving his lips.

"Yeah, um..." He almost brings a hand to scratch at the back of his neck, but drops it back down since it's covered in clay. "It's a bit harder than I thought."

"For sure, but... I'm sure we'll figure it out," You respond with a small grin, hoping to shed some hopeful light to both of your projects, before bringing your focus back to the clay. It feels oddly therapeutic under your hands. Your fingers press into the clay, and you slowly start to shape it into a bowl, albeit with a few bumps and uneven edges.

With the help of the instructor coming to your side a few times, you both quietly continue to shape your clay, and you can't help but sneak glances at him when he's not looking. There's something about his focused yet slightly nervous expression that you find endearing and cute. It's clear he's genuinely trying his best, just like you.

As time passes, you start to find the process of shaping the clay more easier, even fixing any bumps you might have created before and straightening the edges almost perfectly.

However, as you look over at the cute boy, you notice that he's still struggling. His bowl looks a bit misshapen, frustration evident in the furrow of his brow, and you can tell that he's feeling a bit disheartened by his progress𑁋or lack thereof. Glancing down at your bowl and back to his, you stop your wheel and scoot your chair over to his, the tip of your knee momentarily brushing against his, gaining his attention.

"Here, let me help." You reach out, your fingers gently touching the clay he's working on, and you both briefly tense up at the contact of your hands touching again. "You have to be patient with it. It can be a bit stubborn at times."

He takes his hand away and watches closely like a cat focused on a dangling string as you demonstrate how to handle the clay, your fingers expertly moving with precision. Then when he hesitantly brings his hands back to meet yours, you help guide them back into proper place, your hands following his movements with gentleness. It's oddly intimate, and you don't realise it until you both catch each other's eyes for a second, before bringing your gazes back down bashfully.

"Your name is Y/N, right?" he asks after what feels like an extremely long, entire minute.

You nod, your heart skipping a beat at the sound of your name from his lips. "Yeah, uh... how did you know that?"

A faint blush creeps onto his cheeks as he sheepishly pushes away some loose strands of dark hair in front of his face, smudging a bit of clay on his face in the process. You pinpoint a small mole above his upper lip.

"I, um, heard you talking to reception lady at the front." A pause, then a visible swallow of his Adam's apple. "Sorry, that sounded creepy."

"Ah, right. That's me." Your cheeks redden at his response, and you can't help but chuckle softly. "And you are...?"

"Junhui, but Jun is fine. Actually, um, either or is fine too. Whatever you want," he tells you quietly and quickly, and his name settles comfortably in your mind as if it's always been there.

"Junhui," You repeat with a warm smile. "It's cool meeting you, Jun."

Jun returns your smile shyly, and there's a subtle hint of relief in his expression. There's something about the way he smiles that tugs at your heartstrings. As you help him shape his clay, you notice how his fingers become more confident under yours and the way the tension in his shoulders eases. It doesn't take long for him to get the hang of it, and for you to return back to your own station.

Whatever awkwardness was lingering before had practically disappeared at this point. It's only small talk, but it's progress, you think. He tells you about his plans to become an actor, and the thought of him appearing in a drama of some sorts makes you even more intrigued if you weren't already. Then you tell him about your interests in literature, and you catch the way his eyes light up when you mention your favourite books and authors.

At some point, while focusing on your own bowl, you notice something on Jun's. You see him shaping some small, rounded protrusions at the top, almost looks like he's forming two small teeth. Or ears. Or something.

"Are you molding teeth on your bowl?" You ask, a twinge of tease to your voice.

You notice a small smirk at the corners of his mouth as he works to shape the protrusions to a more sharper look. Then he takes his foot off the pedal and sits back.

"It's supposed to to be cat ears," he claims, narrowing his eyes down at it. "Does it look like it?"

You lean in to take a closer look, and there it is𑁋a charming, abstract, clay cat with only its two pointy, slightly uneven ears to give its character. You let out a small chuckle at the sight, giving Jun a nod of approval.

"It does look like one, for sure," You tell him. "Maybe next class you could give it a face and a tail?"

He thinks about your words for a moment, moreso on when you said maybe next class.

"I can definitely try," he says, a sparkle of excitement in his eyes.

As the class comes to an end, you and Jun both place your unfinished pieces into designated shelves where you both can come back to them next class. The two of you then take off your aprons and clean up, letting the silence pass as you make your way outside and back into the main waiting area together. You both greet the receptionist a small have a good day before exiting out together.

The cool, late afternoon air feels refreshing the moment you step into it, letting out a breath of relief that seemed to have been dying to come out. Jun notices this, hiding the way his lips curve up by looking down at the ground.

"Today was fun," You say, eyes briefly roaming to the growing traffic on the streets.

Jun meets where your eyes are, before turning back to you. "Yeah," he adds on. "It was."

You mention something about how this day off meant to you, but Jun finds himself a bit distracted in the way you're literally glowing with the fading light of the day. As you both stand there, the thought of parting ways for now doesn't sit well with him, or either of you, for that matter.

You both linger in the moment, unsure of how to proceed, before Jun clears his throat. His voice, with a hint of hesitation, breaks the silence. "Um..."

The sound of his voice immediately catches your attention, and Jun swears his words catch in his throat. He glances away for a brief moment, then looks back at you with a hint of nervousness in his eyes, and the words finally spill out.

"...would you like to... um, do something again? Together? Maybe we could grab a coffee or dinner or something? It's pretty unoriginal, I know, but..."

Your heart flutters at his hesitant words. He looks adorable in his shyness, and you feel your own nervousness take a step back as you muster up a warm smile.

"I'd love to, Jun."

Jun visibly relaxes as your words wash over him, relief flooding his features. A bright smile breaks across his face, and the sight of it is just so infectious that it makes you smile even wider.

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[justwhisperingfantasies]

Memories Part 2

Characters: Dean Winchester x Female Reader, Sam Winchester, Castiel. Mick Davies. Mention of other SPN characters.

Warnings: memory wipe, language, angst, cute dean, fluff, not exactly cannon, implied smut, gun being pulled.

A/N: This is a continuation of my first-ever fic post. Please go easy on me. Hope you enjoy

Summary: You've had your memory wiped and sent off to your death. Sam, Dean, and Cas save you just before it is too late. the guys struggle with being strangers to you after all the years you have shared. You are forced into a life-altering dilemma.

Word count: 4,105 words

************************************************************************

Your stomach twisted. “Are you serious?” Why would I not want all my memories back? 

“Don't look at me like that. This life is hard. You could have a clean cut right now.” His face turned glum as he grabbed your hand and interlaced your fingers“ You've been through a lot of shit. No one would judge you if you did choose not to.” You heard his phone vibrating in his pocket. He took it out and answered. “Yeah. Alright. Give me a minute.” He tapped the phone and put it in his back pocket, not taking his eyes away from yours. 

You could see the extra wetness in his eyes, making another tear roll down your cheek. He wiped it away and pulled you into his arms, your arms automatically wrapped underneath his and around him. You laid your face against his chest. He kissed your forehead and said, “I’m sorry, sweetheart, just worry about getting cleaned up right now. Everything you need should still be in your bathroom. If not, your phone is on the nightstand on the right. Text me, and I'll make sure you get it. The food will probably be done right around the time you get out. Okay?” 

How can he do this with just a hug? It was so peaceful and safe in his arms. You never wanted to let go, but it had been a tough day and you needed a shower. (your fav food) didn't sound too bad, either. You nodded as you slowly pulled back your face. He took your face in his hands, wiping away more tears. “We will figure all this out later, okay?” he kissed your forehead again, and you felt a drop on your face. 

“Okay. I'm sorry” you manage to pull yourself together.

“Don't apologize. We will get it all figured out,” he said as he let his hands fall to his sides and you did the same.” Do you want me to stay here and wait?”

“No, it's ok. Thank you though. For everything.” you smiled 

“Anytime. Call or text if you need me.” he smiled back and then walked out the door closing it behind him.

You sit down on the bed as you try to collect your thoughts. How could you not get your memories back?! However, you did notice when Dean was describing everyone, it was in the past tense. It might be nice just to break away and have a normal life I guess. No monsters, no demons, no insane British people trying to wipe your mind. (y/n) have a nice hot shower get some food and think about this later. You told yourself. You got up and tried to shake it off. 

“Yes hot shower and some food,” you replied out loud to yourself. You walked into the bathroom and it was simple and nice. the same wood panel as the bedroom. White tile walls with black grout line. Decent size shower. The bathtub was probably bigger than most and a white porcelain sink with a black cabinet underneath. Big mirror above it with a black frame. You turned the shower knob all the way over to hot and waited for the water to warm.

************************************************************************

As Dean shut your door he leaned back on it and sighed. What the hell am I going to do if she doesn't want her memories back?! How could l live without her?! Just then his cell phone started vibrating again. “Yeah, I'm coming.” 

He walked back down To the library. 

“Well, it's about time chum?” Mick Davies was sitting at the first table across from Sam and Cas.

“Oh, I'm sorry I made you wait while I had to comfort my girlfriend that has had her memory wiped twice, almost killed, and kinda freaking out right now. I feel so bad for you.” Dean said raising his voice some. 

“Dean, I know. okay? That's why I called you.” Davies said with guilt in his eyes. “Did you find it?”

“Yes we did,” Sam said as he wheeled Over an older machine. Davies plunged it in and it turned in. 

It started beeping and lights started flickering. 

“Ah, she still works.” He said as he opened a small door below the device. “And there's more than enough of the serum to work. Where's the lovely lass?”

Dean's eyes narrowed “She's upstairs taking a shower.” 

Just then the kitchen buzzer went off. “Shit gotta get that,” Sam said as he hurried to the kitchen. 

“What are we havin'?” Davies asks

“ I don't know what you're having, but We are having (your fav food).” Dean still had an attitude. 

“Dean, let's go see if Sam needs any help.” It was obvious Castiel just wanted to talk to Dean in private. They walked over to the kitchen doorway. Dean looked back, keeping an eye on Mick. 

“ Dean, I don't like them either, but he did just risk his ass to save her. Maybe we should be more welcoming.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “ I'll feed him, but I'm not painting his toenails.” he went over to help Sam.

Cas then rolled His eyes and walked back to the library.

************************************************************************

That shower really hit the spot. You dried off and put your clothes on. You were brushing your hair when you started thinking about Dean. It's nuts how close you felt to him even though he was a stranger at the moment. Thinking over the tour you remember the our rooms thing you could have sworn he said our room. 

Your curiosity got the better of you and you opened the closet. There were women's clothes on the right and men's clothes on the left. You couldn't help yourself. You went to the nightstand on the left And opened the drawer. There was a lore book, a flashlight, a phone charger, a gun, a silver knife, and a box of condoms.  You went to the other nightstand and opened the drawer, you found a pair of glasses, a lore book, a silver knife, a gun, earbuds, hand sanitizer, with a phone sitting on top of the stand. You put on the glasses. Yep, this Was your side you thought as you put them back. You picked the phone up and swiped the screen. A picture of you and Dean showed on the screen. you two were standing By the car again in mid-laugh. It was super cute. You flinched when it started to vibrate. Dean's name came up with an adorable picture of him sleeping. You tapped the Green button. 

“Sup?” you said in a deep voice

“Really? Well, home dawg I was calling to see if you done because the food is ready.” Dean understood your banter so well. 

“Alright, I'm on my way.”

“Lov…’ the call ended.

“ God, I fuckng hate this!” Dean said as he shoved his phone back in his pocket.

“I know Dean.” Sam tried to comfort his brother as he carried the food over the table. “Just let her eat some food and then we can fix this..”

“Well if that's what she wants,” Dean said hoping you wouldn't want to forget him. He walked over to get the plates out.

“Wait what the hell are you talking about?” Sam Demanded

“ Think about it Sammy, she has been through so much pain. She could turn the other cheek and start living a normal life.” He set a plate for each of them on the table. 

“But dean?” 

“It's her choice and we will be happy for her either way!” 

“So you could just let her go?” Sam doubted as he put out everyone's silverware.

“If that's what she wants,” he argued. “Do you need anything else?

“No, that's all. Thanks.” Sam sighed “My money is on her choosing you.”

“GET BACK CASTIEL ITS ONE OF THEM!!” Sam and Dean heard you yell

They looked at each other and then ran for the library.

“(Y/N) PUT THE GUN DOWN!” you looked at Dean. “He is here to help. This is Mick, he's the one who called us and told us where you were. He can restore your memories with that thing.” he pointed at the machine. 

“Don't ya think someone should have mentioned to her I was coming?!” Mick shouted in fear.

“Where the hell did you get a gun?” Dean stormed over to you and held out his hand. You took a couple of steps back. Dean stayed where he was and bounced his hand a few times. 

You looked down at his hand. You still had the gun pointed at Mick. “Ha! not happening! Its mine. It was in my nightstand.” 

“I should have known,” Dean said as he shook his hand. “Come on. We aren't gonna let him hurt you.” he started to step closer.

You stepped back and pointed the gun at Dean. He stopped immediately “How do I know that?! How do I know this isn't a big trick?”

“Really (y/n)?” you could see the tears”s in his eyes. “You saw the pictures. You know I wouldn't let him hurt you.”

“Oh yeah? Then how did they take me the first time?” tears started streaming down your face. You felt so betrayed. You trusted these 3 men and they let one of them in here. You didn't know what to think. You were so confused and couldn't remember anything. Before you saw the British guy everything was fine. It's like he triggered something in you, something you couldn't control. You were angry, panicked, and overwhelmed.

Just then you felt Castiel behind you. He quickly put his fingers to your forehead and you passed out. Dean hurried to help Cas catch you, but he didn't need it. “I got her. I can go lay her in her bed?” Dean nodded as he took the gun out of your hand and put it in the back of his jeans. Castiel disappeared with you in his arms.

“Jesus fucking christ!” Mick said. “Seriously why didn't anyone explain the whole situation to her?!” 

Dean shook his head and hurried for the door.

He made it outside before the tears started falling. He leaned up against the Impala, then slowly slid down the side. What the fuck happened?! Was it just Mick being there? Was it a side effect of the mind-wiping? Did she really not believe he would everything in his power to make sure nobody hurt her? “Then how did they take me the first time?” her voice echoed in his head. It was his fault. If he was a little more cautious or a little less cocky maybe he wouldn't have gotten shot. Maybe she would be better off without him, living a normal life. She wouldn't have to run, wouldn't have to fight, she wouldn't have to hunt. He knew he should let you go. It felt like he couldn't breathe, couldn't move, his heart breaking in his chest as the tears fell. 

************************************************************************

Sam blinked and thought about going after Dean. But decided against it. He’ll want to be alone. So he walked into the kitchen to put the food in the fridge for later. He turned around as he closed the fridge finding Mick standing in the doorway.

“So was she freaked before she saw me?” Mick hesitantly asked.

‘No. She was fine. Even joking.” Sam sighed and then explained everything that he witnessed today. “I don't know what happened after she and Dean went upstairs. I don't know anything about the pictures”

“I'm guessing it was me.”

“No. I mean you probably made it worse, but she said the gun was in her nightstand. So she felt threatened enough to carry it downstairs before she even knew you were here.” 

“I have heard of the mind-wiping having a side effect, but I never seen it in myself.

“Is it temporary?.”

“I don't know. All I heard was side effects. Nothing specific. I'll start checking the inventory list for anything about mind wiping.” Mick didn't know what else to do.

“Hey Mick, If she is experiencing side effects would it even be safe to give her memories back?”

“I'm not sure mate.” he hung his head and walked out.

“Son of a bitch!’ Sam said as he threw one of the pots he had used in the sink.

************************************************************************

You awaken to Cas sitting in a chair beside your bed. You didn't say anything just stared at the ceiling of your room, playing back what just happened in your mind. You remembered everything that happened, everything you said, everything you did. But you could not remember what sent you into such a frenzy. You don't even remember being able to stop. The gun wasn't even loaded, but they didn't know that.

“(y/n)?” 

You shut your eyes and stayed silent.

“Come on (y/n). How are you feeling?” You rolled on your side putting your back toward him and you could feel the tears start. “Please don't ignore me.” he pleaded 

“Cas, I just can't right now okay?” you were so ashamed of what had just happened.

“Okay, But I'm gonna sit here until you can.”

“Why? I just acted like a fool and pulled a gun on innocent people. Why would you want to stay with me?” you started crying.

“Because I care about you. No matter what,” he said as he put his hand on your shoulder for comfort

*********************************************************************

He didn't know how long he had been sitting by the impala. Dean just sat there numb. His eyes were on fire, his head pounding. He needed to move, need to get this the fuck over with. He found the will to get up. It was so quiet in the bunk, peaceful chaos. 

“Dean?” Sam yelled from the library

“Yeah.” Dean's voice cracked. He cleared his throat as he walked into the library. “Whatcha doin'? Where is everyone?”

Sam looked up at his brother he could tell Dean had been crying, but he wouldn't dare say anything about it. “ (y/n) and Cas are still upstairs. Mick and I are reading up on mind wipe lore. He just went to the dungeon for something. He told me he had heard some things about it and you know how the men of letters were.” 

“They documented everything.”

“Exactly. So if we can find anything that can help, maybe there's a spell..’

“Sam.”

Sam continued his thought. “ Or if we can get rid of the side effects somehow.”

“Sam!”  Dean spoke a little louder. Sam stopped and looked at his brother.” I think I need to let her go.”

“Dean, but if we find something. Maybe getting her memories back will help..”

“Sam! Memories or no memories, I have to let her go. The British men of letters did this because of me. She almost got killed because of me. Look at all the shit she has been through because of me. Everything she has lost because of me. And it's just gonna keep happening. I have to do the right thing here. His eyes misted over again. God, they stung so bad, but it was nothing compared to the torment in his chest. he started to walk away.

“Dean, Come on…”

“ I don't wanna hear it Sammy!” he said with a raised voice and continued to walk away.

As he entered his old room he laid the gun on the table and then started to pace. The record player caught his eye. He walked over and put the needle on the record. He couldn't even remember what he had last listened to in here. Bad Medicine starts playing and the memories but his birthday from 2 years ago start rushing back.

(y/n) doing a sexy little strip tease, him holding her up against the wall, round 2 on the side table in the library that nobody ever used. He pushed the needle off making a screeching sound.  

He threw himself on his bed. “God I fucking hate this!”

************************************************************************

You must have cried yourself to sleep. You lay there a few minutes just taking in the quiet. You decide it's time. You roll over and see Castiel sitting in the same chair reading a book. “You're still here?” surprise in your voice.

He closed his book. “I told you I would stay until you are ready to talk.”

“What if I'm not ready yet?”

“Then I'll wait.”  

“Whatcha reading?”

“A journal of a former member of the men of letters.”

“Oh yeah? Anything good?”

“Well, he was one of the members that was experimenting with mind wiping”

“Interesting. Why are you reading it?”

“Because Mick told Sam that he had heard there are side effects of the mind wiping. So Mick, Sam, and I are reading into it.”

“So you guys think my psycho moment was from a side effect?”

“Maybe. I do have another theory.”

“Do tell.”

“You have been through a lot in the last 4 days. And yeah you were nervous after I explained everything to you, but any normal human probably would have had a meltdown way before you did. I do have one question though. You seemed ok with me, Sam, and Dean. Why bring the gun downstairs?”

“I found it on my nightstand. I took it down to clean. The damn thing was filthy. Then saw the British guy and I freaked. I can't explain it. It's like fight or fly kicked in and I chose to fight. And I couldn't stop. I have been questioning why I trust the 3 of you as much as I do. No offense. I heard the Brit and freaked out.”

“No offense taken. It would make total sense for you not to trust us. The British guy is Mick. He is the one who called us and told us where you were. And he ran away from the British Men Of Letters to come help us.”

“Do you think he’ll forgive me?”

“Mick? Well yeah, it's more our fault for not telling you he was coming. You were scared.”

You giggled and shook your head. “No. Dean. I pointed a gun at him and pretty much told him it was his fault I got kidnapped. Which is not what I think at all.”

“You were scared and pissed off, you said things you didn't mean. If anyone knows about that, it's Dean. You guys will be fine. We need to get you some food, I can hear your stomach growling from over here.” you gave him a look of dread. “I promise it will be alright. They've been through far worse. Come on.”

You sighed heavily and got up.

You got to Sam's room before you couldn't take the silence anymore. “So did you find anything good in the journal?”

“Interesting good yes, side effect good not yet.”

“But you don't think it was a side effect?”

“Well no, but if there are side effects, we want to know what they are.”

“But when Mick fixes me we won't have to worry about it anymore.”

“Actually, there's something I want to talk to you about.” he paused at the top of the stairs. “ (y/n) You have been through a great deal of pain in your lifetime. The hunting life isn't great. If you wanted..”

You started walking down the stairs “You don't have to give the clean break, no judgment speak. Dean beat you to it.”

“Oh well, I just wanted you to know all your options.”

“Got it Cas.” he looked like a child that just got yelled at. “I'm sorry I'm just hungry.”

His face lifted. “I know I can hear it.”

As you walk into the library you find Sam and Mick. Sam looks up and smiles at you.

Mick looks a bit weary. “Well, Ello Love. Are you armed?”

You give a slight eye roll. “No. I'm sorry..”

Mick cut you off. “No need for apologies. Not the first time a pretty dame pulled a gun on me.” he smiled.  You smiled back and your stomach growled louder than before.

Sam laughed “Hungry?”

“Starving!”

“Come on,” he said getting up.

“Sam I can…” he gave you a stern look “Keep you company while you make the food.”  you gave him a happy smile.

“What a great idea” he beamed sarcastically

You rolled your eyes and followed him. 

“I saved it. So all we have to do is reheat it. “

“Easy Enough.” you looked around. Dean was nowhere to be found, but you didn't want to come off needy so you didn't ask. 

He chuckled “ He is upstairs in his room.”

“Who?” you tried to play it off. 

“(y/n) “Sam said as you put the food in the oven

“Is he still mad at me?”

He turned around a look of surprise on his face. “He was never mad at you. He's worried about you. He blames himself for all the shit you've been through.”

You raised one eyebrow “ How the hell would any of this be his fault?!”

“Mind wipe right. Dean is a protector. If anything happens to anyone on his watch it's his fault. He's been like that as long as I can remember. Plus he thinks being with him is putting you in harm's way.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Sam laughed “This is the last time I'm making this.”

“I said I'll be right back.” you heard him laugh again as you walked out. 

************************************************************************

Cas waited until you and Sam were gone “Have you guys found anything?”

“Nothing yet, but we keep trying yea?”

“Yes! Are we sure she's experiencing side effects though?” 

“Honestly. I have my doubts. The way Sam explained it seemed like she trusted the 3 of you. He said she was even joking a bit, she only freaked out when she saw me. But if that's the case why did she have the gun before she knew I was here?”

They saw you marching your way through the library.

“Carry on Boys,” you said as you continued. Both looking at you in confusion. 

“Well, she looks mad. Should we be concerned?” Cas asked as they both starred after 

“No gun. She's fine.” Mick sniggered 

“Anyway. We did have a conversation about all that. She said she did trust us. She had been asking herself why all day. Said she didn't know she just did.” cas explained.” and she found the gun in her nightstand. Apparently, it was filthy. She brought it down to clean it.”

“Fucking hell. I doubt it was a side effect. She was probably frightened. Some British institute wipes your brain and sends you to your death, you wake up with strangers, and then one of the British cunts shows up here unannounced. I would probably pull a gun too.”

“I agree.”

************************************************************************

Come on. You can do this. You knocked on Dean’s door. 

“Go away Sam!” he yelled.

You rolled your eyes and pushed the door open. “It's not Sam.”

“Hey (y/n) you feeling any better?” 

“Well, I was until your brother told me that you are blaming yourself for this?! For everything?!”

“Fuckin Sam. It is my fault. You said so yourself.”

“Don't you curse Sam! He was just being honest. I know what I said. It was the heat of the moment. I really don't blame you and I do trust you. ”

“If you trust me so much, why did you have the gun in the first place?”

“I took the damn thing down to clean. It’s not even fucking loaded. I was just scared and I didn't want to go back. I'm sorry I pointed it at you.”

He got up and rushed over to the gun. No bullets. “You pointed an unloaded gun at us?”

“Like I just said I was freaking scared, no one else knew it wasn't loaded.”

He started laughing. 

“Did you really think I would shoot you?”

“In these circumstances? Absolutely.”

Just then his phone started ringing. He put it on speaker. “The food is getting cold again.”

“We’ll be right there Sammy.” he hung up the phone

“I'm not done”

He cocked his eyebrow with a grin. “Well go on then.”

“I'm a hunter with or without you. Judging from the pictures on the dresser and my phone I would rather it be with. You can't blame yourself. Sometimes bad shit happens and there's nothing you can do about it.”  you declared

“You Done?”

“Yes!”

He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you to him. His lips just inches away from yours. 

“Good! Now Let's go get some food.” he smiled.

[ratsoh-writes]

What do their bedrooms/living areas look like? I'm going to use all 3 of my asks to request this for all of the boys if that's ok! ❤

Man, I’ve had this one in my secret notes for a good while now!

Undertale:

Both the tale brothers live in a nice little gated community. Their house is one of the smaller ones and has the same layout as the one in Snowdin. The house is pretty basic with some cozy throws and wall tapestries to spruce it up

Sans: his room actually has a proper bed and frame this time. The sheets and blankets are still bundled up in a pile on the floor though. Sans also has his homemade trashnado in the corner. There’s a desk on the wall adjacent to the door which has his laptop. And several folders stacked next to it. Other than a dresser, there’s literally nothing else in there. Sans doesn’t care much about stuff

Papyrus: his room has bright orange walls. He left the race car bed behind underground but has a race car blanket to make up for it. His walls are covered in superhero and comic posters. He also has a display case for some old figurines and his comic collection. Papyrus’ desk is one of those nice fancy drafting ones where he can adjust it to tilt upwards. He has a ship wheel attached to his door for some reason.

Underswap

The swap bros home is only a few blocks from the classic brothers neighborhood. The only thing basic about it is the cream walls. All the furniture and decorations are bright colors. The kitchen especially is real nice. The oven and stove are top notch, and the counters are filled with mason jars full of goodies.

Star: his room can blind a lesser man when you walk in. The walls are bright yellow, the bed (which is a bunk bed by the way) is neon orange. Galaxy posters decorate the wall. Besides the clashing colors, the furniture is pretty basic. Only the top bunk actually has a mattress. The bottom bunk is used as a storage shelf. He also has a shoe rack by his door

Honey: you can practically feel the nerdy aura as you enter his room. The first thing you see is a display case housing some neat figurines of characters from his favorite shows. He’s also got a pretty nice bookshelf on the opposite wall that’s nearly full. Honeys bed has a curtain around it for extra privacy with a nice little wall lamp above the pillows

Underfell

They have a home a little closer to the city center but still far enough to be considered suburbs. It’s a very sleek and modern house with white walls, tile floors and sleek black and metal furniture. The only thing that doesn’t fit the rest of the theme is this nasty old patched up sofa in the living room. The thing is absolutely hideous but is sooo comfy.

Red: his room has soft grey walls and smells like miter oil. Makes sense since one wall is just a long basic table covered in machine parts that red tinkers with in his down time. He actually doesn’t have a bed. Instead he sleeps on this giant leather bean bag. He likes it that way. There’s a few car posters decorating the walls

Edge: he obviously put a lot of thought into his rooms decorations. Everything is pretty black marble or a sleek white wood. His bed covers are blood red with a nice geometric designs on top in silver. He has a beautiful black desk with some pretty jars filled to the brim with nothing but novelty pens. If you looked in his desk drawers you would find notebooks and even more pens

Swapfell

They don’t own a house and instead live in a two bedroom one bath apartment on the third floor of one of lords complexes. The furniture is pretty minimalistic but very nice quality. Most decorations are metal

Mal: the first thing you’ll see in his room is a large wooden drawing desk where pencils and watercolors are neatly arranged on the side. There’s also a vanity with a light up mirror and a nice collection of makeup. Also a huge slanted hunters knife. He uses it to make sure his eyeliner is extra sharp.

Cash: his bedroom is the perfect definition of organized chaos. It looks messy but for cash, he knows exactly where every thing is. There’s a small tv in there with some old game consoles hooked up to it. The bed is never made.

Horrortale

Their home rests in a neighborhood bordering the forest of ebott. The houses there all have a lot more yard space than most houses in the city. The horrortale home is super cozy with lots of knit throws and pillows scattered around. The back patio has a little dog door and there’s a 50% chance of seeing a chicken walk through lol

Oak: his room is also pretty basic. The bed however has so many blankets. Like way more than any person should need. Oak is a blanket hoarder. There’s a lot of notebooks stacked on his wooden desk along with a file of patterned paper for scrapbooking.

Willow: his room has a raised bed with a cute little ladder on the side so that his dog can jump up. You can tell a lot of the furniture has been homemade or refurbished. The room is larger and in the middle is a circular stone table that’s stained with paint. It’s usually housing his latest craft

Underlust

They used to live in the same neighborhood as the classic brothers but have recently moved closer to the inner city because of work. Their home is still in the process of being unpacked mostly, but their rooms are done! The house is actually pretty conservative looking with grey walls, white wooden furniture and soft pastel decor. They do have a stripper pole in the living room though lol

Charm: his room looks exactly how you expect from him. Dark walls with lots of bright rave type decorations. On his dresser is a large pretty cake display that stands out from the rest of the rooms theme lol. His room is always on a state of organized chaos with his desk and bed covered in nick knacks but the floors staying oddly clean

Sugar: his room has light lavender walls and black furniture. It’s a big difference from the soft feminine style people expect from him. Instead sugar has a more sleek modern style to his room. He also has a standard mannequin in the middle that always has a new dresses pinned to it.

Fellswap (red)

They own a pretty two story house only a block away from the two apartment complexes that lord owns. The front lawn/garden is in top shape with lots of those metal flower decorations stuck in the ground along the dirt outline. Inside the house is most worn but comfy looking furniture. Nothing special

Lord: his room is pretty basic with mostly brown and grey accents. He does have a large mostly filled bookcase. There’s also two white bean bags and a deep red rug that covers nearly the whole floor of the room.

Mutt: he actually has two rooms. The first is pretty simple with just his bed, a writing desk and a rack for some shoes. Also his bird cage for KFC (pet pigeon). The second room has a sink, and several cages and boxes for the injured animals that he rehabilitates. The second room is slightly larger than his actual room.

Fellswap gold

They actually live in a studio apartment above wines antique shop. The apartment used to be an unused storage static until wine bought the building and repurposed it. The living space itself is a little small, but they also have access to the roof which the gold bros use as a potted garden and dining area.

Wine: his room is very classy with silk curtains on the window and a silky cream canopy above his head. All the furniture is a dark grey wood with pretty carvings and designs. The walls are decorated with beautiful floral paintings from his brother. It’s a pretty well planned out room. Very cosy and luxurious

Coffee: he has two rooms as well. The smaller of the two is just his bed, dresser, closet and a tv with some consoles hooked up to it. The second room has shelves lining nearly every wall except for one which is just a big collab mural. On the shelves is various art supplies and projects. There’s one large sketch desk on one wall. And finally in the middle of the room is a tarp attached to the floor housing whatever piece of furniture coffee is restoring at the moment .

Dancetale

They also own an apartment, one of the flats in lords buildings on the ground floor. It’s the other building from the swapfell brothers. The walls are painted a cheery yellow and the house is mostly decorated with spring colors. There’s always a huge bowl of fresh fruit in the kitchen.

Pop: his room is mix and match of completely different furniture and gadgets. Pop isn’t someone who cares about themes so he will keep whatever catches his fancy. Instead of a bed, he has a hammock attacked to the ceiling with a pillow and some throw blankets casually tossed on top lol.

Rhythm: his room is pretty sparse with just his bed, a shoe rack, and a dresser. On the dresser are pictures of each of his face classes right before they graduate. Rhythm doesn’t really care all that much about decor so the walls are pretty bare too

Outertale

They live in the same gated community as the classic brothers! The outertale home has high ceilings and lots of windows. The living room is the real centerpiece of the home. It has several large antique bookcases and display cases. Inside the displays are various rocks and crystals and the occasional fossil. It’s really neat.

Pluto: his room is comprised of mostly blues grays and greens. He has a small bookcase on the side of his bed where he keeps the things he’s currently reading. There’s also a large fish-tank with an assortment of saltwater fish inside. Pluto’s room also has a large circular fluffy rug in the middle of the floor. The floor itself is hardwood

Jupiter: his room has a similar color scheme except instead of greens, Jupiter has gold instead. He has some exercise equipment stacked nicely on the side of his bed including weights. There’s a wall tapestry with a printed picture of the asteroid belt the outertale monsters used to live in.

Gastertale

The gaster brothers also live in the same neighborhood as the classic and outertale bros. They’re at the very end in the little cul-de-sac. The interior of the house is almost all white with cream carpet, metro grey walls, and white furniture. A few of the small decorations add a bit of color. There’s a lot of potted succulents.

G: his room is probably the only dark room of the house. His walls are a charcoal grey and the furniture is mostly jet black with a few mustard colored decorations. There’s a metal wire bookcase hanging on the wall. G also has a plastic anatomy dummy that he dresses up in his motorcycle gear when he’s not using it. G thinks he’s funny

Green: like the rest of the home, his room is also mostly white. He has a pretty pale green rack for all of his glasses on his dresser. Green also has his several degrees framed in silver on the walls. his room is always spotless

Farmtale:

The farm bros have an old Victorian home that they fixed up themselves. They’re home borders the acres of farmland they own and is about a 45 minute drive from ebott city. The inside is decorated with mostly wooden furniture. There’s like four rocking chairs on the porch lol

Peaches: his room fits the theme of the house with mostly wooden furniture and a lot of quilts and rugs to add color and soften it up. Peaches always has a vase of fresh wildflowers on his dresser. The walls have photographs of plants and animals taped to them that peaches took himself.

Rancher: this mad lad has a large moose skull hanging above his four poster log cabin bed. He also hangs his favorite hunting rifles just below the moose lol. His bedroom is mostly wooden of course but is also decorated with lots of red and orange plaids.

Horrorfell

They live in the same neighborhood as the horrortale and horrorswap brothers. Their home is literally right in between the two. Inside it’s decorated in a mix between sleek modern metals and frumpy cozy style. Somehow the horrorfell bros still have their original sofa from the underground. There’s a lot of little homemade staircases for their cat doomfanger who’s too old to claim on top of things herself now

Rust: his walls are painted a soft heather grey and have some basic wooden decorations that noir painted for fun. The furniture is pretty normal with the exception of a large treasure style chest next to his bed. Open it up and you’ll find a collection of drawings and gifts from the kids he’s watched over the years. Rust didn’t have the heart to throw them away.

Noir: unsurprisingly, his room is littered in canvases and paintings on the walls. It’s divided into two sides: the messy paint side and his nice neat living side. He even has a line of tape going down the middle to complete the divide. On his living side is his bed, closet, and a low bookcase that he uses as a second dresser. The actual bookcase is in the living room

Horrorswap

As y’all all know, their house is right next to the horrorfells and one house away from the horrortales. They like bright colors and have a sort of summery themed house. The best part is the back garden which is filled with garden boxes of veggies, fruit bushes, and fruit trees.

Lilac: his rooms main color is a pretty powder blue along with canary yellow and some bright green. He has a yoga mat on the floor in place of a rug. The walls have some neat sunrise posters

Basil: his room is pretty cosy with lots of knit blankets and fluffy pillows. He has a massive poster of Pixar’s ratatouille that rust got him as a joke. Basil has like five coconut planters, each housing a different herb plant making his room smell like an Italian restaurant

The Mafias (tale, fell, swap)

The mafia brothers live in an apartment complex masquerading as a warehouse. The ground and top two floors are working area while there were three secret basement levels. The mafia bros home consists of the whole bottom level with all their rooms connected to a hallway. At the end of the hallway is a living space and the kitchen.

Snipe: his room is the one closest to the living area. Inside is sage walls with a few house plants that can survive in low light. His bed is almost never made lol. If one was to tear the room apart, they would find at least six different guns stashed in hidden compartments

Bruiser: his room is the closest to the staircase. Inside the room somehow looks super messy but is actually spotless. Bruiser decorates the walls with all kinds of gifts people randomly give him during his vigilante escapes. Stuff from pocket mirrors, to foreign currency to even a small collection of sea shells. He drilled holes into them and hung them up on strings. Other than his walls, the furniture is pretty plain

Butch: his room is a mix of greys, blacks an silvers with the basics of furniture and a small black leather sofa. On the walls are some pretty hand melded metal decorations that butch made himself. He smokes in his room so it reeks of cigars

Boss: his room fits him perfectly with clean white plaster walls, sleek metal furniture and black and gold marble decor. Everything in that room has a specific place. If anyone moved his stuff, he’d know. It’s the only mafia bro room that doesn’t caught smell like smoke somehow. There’s a male model mannequin that he uses to practice designing clothes on

Ace: the most eye catching part of his room is a large vanity with several lamps attached and a very extensive makeup kit. I’m talking professional grade. Ace isn’t the spy for nothing. He also has an open closet so all his clothing is out on display. The main color of his room is mauve funny enough

Slim: his room is a drab grey and has a large desk taking up a whole wall. It’s filled with screens and monitors. He also has a few tv screens hooked up to the wall. It almost looks like a security room. On the other side is his bed with a canopy curtain for privacy. There’s a few anime posters on the wall as well

[mystic-sky]

You stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. You could barely hear yourself think. You’d been attempting to sober up for some odd 20 minutes, whilst the pumping music faded through the tiled walls.

You’d drank plenty of water, and finally felt everything coming back to you. Once the writing on the walls started making sense again, you exited the room. The music finally filtered clear and you walked outside. 

You ran a hand through your hair, seeing your friends dancing in the distance. You were having a lot of fun actually. The only thing that slowed you down was the urge to pee a while ago. And once you felt yourself stumbling towards the bathroom, you realized it was time to chill for a bit.

You walked through a sea of people towards the bar on the terrace again, feeling like a new woman. You ordered a non-alcoholic drink with a sprite substitute for your base, sitting on the stool closest to the end against the wall.

You threw your head back, taking the deepest breath and looking at the sky. 

“Whew...” You sighed. “I almost got shit faced again.”

You heard a laugh from two stools away. You snapped your head towards the only other person on the terrace bar with you. He’d surely been sitting there when you walked past just now. But you were in your own world, and you were thirsty so you hadn’t noticed him.

“Did you just laugh at me?” You quizzed at the white haired gentleman just a few feet from you. 

He turned towards you, giving you a toothy grin. “Yeah, cause it was funny.”

You stared at him, wondering why he had the blindfold on. It dawned upon you that he was probably blind, and you didn’t want to be rude.

“Yeah, I guess it was.” You giggled in the most non-confrontational way possible.

“Good for you, though. Knowing your limits.” He said, taking a sip of his own drink. “Ugh. Yo,  bar tender, could make this a little sweeter?”

You didn’t know many guys that liked their drinks brimming with sugar like that. Then it dawned upon you about how unconventional and unsafe it was for a blind man to be at a club. He could get roofied and kidnapped and he wouldn’t know a thing. You looked down at his legs. He doesn’t even have a cane.

“Are you here alone?” You asked, almost worried for the guy. 

“Are you?” He asked smugly. Was he... hitting on you?

You instinctively adjusted your bodycon dress. It barely covered your butt when you sat down like that, making you place your purse above your lap. But then you remembered, he’s blind.

“No. My friends and I planned this party.” You asked. “Who invited you?” 

“A friend of a friend who knew my friend’s cousin, who told my friend and I that we should definitely come to this party in Shibuya City.” He explained whilst shooting you another cheeky smile. 

“Uh huh...” you slurred. You plopped your head down on the table, staring at him while you leaned on your arm. He was kind of cute, for a blind guy, you thought. You felt a little insensitive for putting it that way in your head. He had this mysterious vibe about him. 

The bar tender set your syrupy drink beside you, but you just continued to look at him.

“I hope that’s just soda.” The white haired male quizzed, picking up a skewered piece of fruit from his drink as the bar tender placed his cup back beside him.

You rolled your eyes, “Yup, just sprite and high fructose corn syrup.” 

“You’re cute.” He said, chuckling deeply. You felt your face heating up. His voice was buttery smooth. You wanted to make more conversation with him but you just shyly sat up and hugged your straw with your mouth. 

Your eyes caught on his jawline. God damn, you thought. You felt like you could ogle as long as you wanted, what was he gonna do about it?

His face is pretty proportionate. He could model if he wanted. His legs looked long on the stool, and he had broad shoulders. He probably could model, you thought. He surely had the height for it.

It wasn’t til he turned towards you and stuck his tongue out that you jumped a little. Just as he was about to say something, you heard a cellphone notification sound, and you frantically reached towards your purse. 

“Ah, that’s me.” He said, fishing his phone out his pocket. You watched him unlock his phone, and send a text.

“Wait, you’re not blind?!” You said, somehow feeling a little violated. You were the one staring through his soul this entire time.

“Is that what you thought?” He chuckled. “I was just about to ask you if you were checking me out, or possibly still feeling tipsy.”

You were at lost for words, feeling stupid. It was normal for you to assume he couldn’t see.

“Who the hell wears a blindfold to a party?”

“Hmmmm, maybe the birthday person? If it’s a surprise party. And then there’s me. I do that.” He grins.

You have a mortified look on your face, earning another laugh from him.

“If it makes you feel better, I think you’re attractive too.” He cocked his head to the side, holding his cheek in his palm.

“Thank you...” You said, head feeling hotter than it did when you were drunk in the bathroom earlier.

“I was just about to leave too. I wasn’t having that good of a time. Not to sound rude though, you and your friends planned a good party. I just finished playing wingman earlier and I was bored as hell.”

“It’s okay.. I get it.” You said, sheepishly bringing your straw to your lips again.

“Was...” He spoke again. “I was bored. Til this sweet baby girl sat beside me. Now, I’m intrigued.”

“You’re the intriguing one. I can’t even see half of your face.” You blurted out through red cheeks. He talked with such finesse. You crossed you legs, and he bit his lip playfully at you. 

“Ahh, I suppose I could show you. You wanna see that bad?” He licked his lips, leaning forward a bit. Though there were two seats between you, you still pressed your back against the wall. 

You slowly swallowed. “I mean... I wouldn’t mind it.”

“Honey, it’s yes or no. Are you as curious about me as I am about you?”

You couldn’t lie. You knew he was attractive even with the blindfold. But the eyes are the window to the soul right? What kind of man were you sitting with right now?

“Let’s bargain a little, yeah? When was the last time you did something crazy, hmm?” He hummed.

You didn’t know, you were so concentrated on the idea of seeing his face. And he’s changing the subject, but he’s still looking right at you, putting you on the spot.

“Define crazy.” You said.

“Skinny dipping, going home with a stranger, robbing a convenience store, you know- crazy shit.”

You burst out laughing at how he smoothly threw that in there. He chuckled along with you. 

“It’s been a few hours.” You say, crossing your legs in the opposite direction. 

“I like that answer.” He says. “So, if I show you what’s under this blindfold of mine, would you consider coming home with me?”

You were crazy for even considering it when he casually mentioned it the first time. You had no idea who he was, and he could murder you as soon as you both left. 

But your gut hadn’t been doing it’s usual thing for the first time in a while. You were nervous, but not because you were scared. He was simply a smooth guy. 

“Alright. Let’s see that mug of yours.” You cross your arms.

He lets out a throaty laugh. “Okay, 

sweetheart.” 

He moves one stool closer towards you and leans on the counter. No one else but you could see his face from this angle. He slowly reached his finger up to pull down the fabric.

He definitely knew how to drag on the moment.

“Or better yet, let’s let the lady of the evening do it, shall we?” He said, bringing his large hands to cover yours. They were hot, and your heart was racing. He lifted both of your hands towards his face.

“Go on, sweets.” You nervously put your fingers  into the fabric, sliding it down over his nose and mouth.

****🌏👄🌏 〰️👄〰️ 🌊👄🌊****

You were star struck. The words were dry on your tongue. He was stupendously beautiful. So beautiful you thought it was unfair. His eyes coaxed you further towards him. You could somehow see everything in them, and nothing but blue at the same time. 

He brought you back to reality when he stuck his tongue out at you. 

“Like what you see?” 

“You’re... gorgeous..” You managed to say through blushing cheeks, sitting back up straight.

“Thank you~” 

“Alright. That’s enough for now. Don’t want you passing out on me.” He slid the blindfold back up, earning a slight dissatisfied whine from you. 

“So, are you down?” He asked, putting his face right back in his palm, grinning from ear to ear. He was honest, and normally you thought you’d be offended by someone blatantly asking you to sleep with them.

Your legs stood up, pulling down what you could of your black bodycon dress.

“You better show me a good time, or I’ll give you the worst review of your life.” You adjusted your purse strap on your shoulder, swaying your hips and offering him a playful smile. The alcohol that wasn’t digested yet gave you a boost of confidence, you passed some hair behind your ears, looking down at him.

“My sex speaks for itself.” He stood up, towering above you and putting out his arm for you to hold. You blushed before loosely wrapping your hand around it. It’s like he had a response for everything, you thought.

“Lucky for you I don’t live too far from here. So you’ll get everything you’re fantasizing about real soon.” He bent down, whispering to you.

How could he be so sure he was going to pleasure you? A stranger he was, he didn’t even know your name, nonetheless how and where you liked to be touched the most.

What a cocky little-

“By the way, my name is Gojo Satoru.” He lifted  his blindfold on one side and peered down at you. You’d heard of the name before, but it could be pure coincidence.

“(Name).” You looked away, blushing yet again under his gaze. 

“Cute as hell.” He bent down towards your face. “Why don’t we tell your friends that you’re leaving with me, hmmm?”

He walked through the bar with you on his arm, finding your friends. They were in awe at the snack you’d found, realizing who he was far before you did. They coaxed you to go for it. 

You turned on your location, and he assured them he’d bring you home. 

Then you were in his car, which was incredibly spick and span. You anxiously pressed your thighs together. It smelled of new car and pine scent. Such a guy thing, you thought.

“Are you nervous?” He asked. He turned on the radio, attempting to lighten the mood. 

“No, your car is just nice.” You pouted, looking out the tinted windows.

“I know right?” He grinned. “Man I love this song.”

Cocky was an understatement.

You realized that one of your favorite songs had been playing. You watched him confidently sing the lyrics.

“You don’t know it?” He asked, turning towards you.

“Of course I do. It’s my favorite.” You say proudly. 

“I knew there was something I liked about you.” He said, humming soon after.

“Ditto. You have decent music taste.” You said. 

You both vibed, and eventually he pulled into a parking garage of a fancy apartment building you surely knew you couldn’t afford to rent.

“You live here?” You asked, as he opened the door for you. He gently took hold of your hand before speaking.

“Yup. Feel free to come visit me whenever after tonight.”

“What makes you so sure I’ll be coming back?” You stood up, looking up at him as you pulled your dress down once more.

“You will. I just know.” He chuckled. 

“You get around a lot, don’t you Satoru?” You quiz, watching him close the car door and click the button on his keys. 

“Here and there. I work more than I’d like to.” He said motioning you to hook yourself onto his arm again.

You wanted to ask him more about his line of work, but he quickly spoke again.

“I just realized you called me by my first name. What a cutie~” He teased.

“What did you want me to call you?” You asked, heels clicking as you both walked towards the elevator. 

“If you were my lover, a plethora of things. For now, you can call me whatever you want.”

You poked your cheek with your tongue. “Then I choose your first name.”

“A classic.” He said, pressing the button on the top floor. 

“What do your other mistresses call you?” You peered up at him.

“Charming, sometimes cocky.” He looked down at you. This guy was something else.

“You know what I meant.” You said, gripping his arm a bit. 

“Lighten up, honey. It’s all about you right now.” 

“Do you think you’ll ever get married?” You realized it wasn’t a tasteful question to ask in this moment, but you hoped to get some insight about him depending on his answer.

“Most definitely. My family expects me to have the strongest offspring.” He said, cocking his head back in frustration. 

“You don’t want to get married?” You ask.

“I do. But not for reasons like that.” He said, exiting the elevator with you. You caught on to what he meant. 

“So what would it take for you to fall in love?” 

“You make it sound like you want to be a contender.” He smugly smiled at you. 

“I get sappy when I’m tipsy.” You blurt out, ears hot and looking in the opposite direction.

He let out a hearty laugh. “As for your question, someone who understands me, which is kind of hard for most people. Oh, and a good sense of humor.”

You hummed, wondering if you fit the bill. You were just here for the sex, but his whole vibe piqued your interest. The blindfold, money, and the name you heard rumors about. He was handsome too, gracing you by allowing you to see his eyes. He seemed to have it all. And all this talk eluding to how he was about to rock your world made you a little nervous.

Could you deliver anything for him besides your body? 

You watched him fish out his keys and slide them into the door knob. A blast of cool air hit your skin and the scent of suede and leather furniture found your nose. You stepped inside, leaving your heels at the door. 

“What did you say you do for a living again?” You peered back at him, watching him hang his jacket and shutting the door.

“I’m an accountant.” He says slyly. You let out a laugh, and he knows you didn’t believe him, nor did he expect you to.

You left it at that, watching him approach the kitchen. He washes his hands, and motioned you to do the same. “Can I get you anything? I can make you something if you’re hungry.”

You shook your head. “You can cook?”

“In the midst of my survival, it became a necessity, alas’ I learned.” He said sarcastically, taking out two bottles of water. He set one in front of you anyway and took some gulps from his own.

“Couldn’t you have said ‘yes, my parents taught me’ like a normal person?” You said, sitting on the stool by the island.

“I could have. But I’m far from normal, if you couldn’t tell.” He pulled down his blind fold and set it on the island countertop, exposing his face again.

“Why do you wear it... if you don’t mind me asking...” 

“I’m sensitive to light. Sometimes I wear glasses. It’s a mood.” He was lying, and you knew. You didn’t actually expect him to tell you the truth. You weren’t particularly bothered either. There were plenty of things he didn’t know about you.

“Is there anything you want to ask me?” You say, tapping your fingers on the bottled water. 

He placed a hand on his chin. 

“Are you allergic to latex?” He leaned directly across from you.

“No...” You smirked. “That was thoughtful.”

“That’s just the kind of guy I am.” He chuckled lightly. He slid around the table, closer towards you.

“Mhmmm.” You say, looking up at him. It was hard to stay focused. Why did he have to be so good looking? You could see the skin of his chest through his white t-shirt when he leaned over you like that. You tugged at your bottom lip.

“Actually, there’s one other thing.” He was so close his hair nearly touched your forehead. You could smell faint remnants of fruity alcohol and mint. You never even saw him pop one into his mouth. 

And to guess what it could be, you had no clue. How could someone be so open but so hard to unveil at the same time? 

“And what might that be?” The response is barely audible, made for only him to hear it.

“What would it take for you to fall in love?” 

You were taken aback. All this time you honestly couldn’t tell how genuinely interested he was in you other than how you looked.

“You really wanna know?” You said, leaning towards him a little. His lashes were so long, he was so pretty he put your looks to shame- at least you felt that way.

“I asked you, didn’t I?” He said, cocking his to the side in the most kiddish, yet charming way ever.

“Someone who could make me feel safe. A good listener, a good communicator, and someone whose funny. And then I cross my fingers and hope for the sex to be good.”  You explain. He laughs a bit before speaking.

“And I just happen to be here right in front of you. Quite the coincidence, don’t you think?” He curls his lips into a sly smile.

“You’ve yet to show me a few things. The sex may or may not be a dealbreaker.” You roll your eyes. 

He brought a hand to your chin, touching noses with you now. “Alright, let me show you why I’m the best.”

He pulled your lips in for a soft kiss. His lips were smooth and slightly slick from whatever chapstick he was using. You had wanted him to kiss you so badly, growing anxious of the sexual tension between the conversations you were having. His teeth pulled against your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. The pressure from the suction sent messages to the nerves in the pit of your stomach. It wasn’t often someone could give you pleasure in your core from a kiss.

You let out delicate whine, making him let go and press his forehead against yours. 

“How was that?” He asked. The tone behind it clearly displayed that he knew he had gotten to you but he had asked you anyway, just because.

“Terrible.” You say, adverting your gaze from his eyes and towards his rosy lips.

“Guess I have to try again.” He says, taking hold of your mouth with his once again. He’s closer to your body now, touching and swirling his fingers down your back. He sent chills down your spine, sucking and pulling firmly at your lips. 

His tongue fell into your mouth somehow, and you welcomed it. You found yourself trying to stick your tongue in his mouth, oddly invested in making him see you had been a decent kisser yourself. Your hands were living in his hair, around his neck. You weren’t shy to touch him at all. 

“Look whose all over me.”  He smirked.

“You’re supposed to be showing me something, right?” You tugged at his shirt, earning a laugh from him.

He dipped his head down towards your lips again, continuing his tongue work for you. He snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You slipped out the stool, on your top toes. Your chest pressing against his, you could feel his heart beat. You could smell his shampoo, his cologne. All of it filled your brain. Your body felt like some sort of electric current connecting with his as soon as skin touched skin. You draped your arms around his neck, realizing just how touch starved you actually were. 

He had been pumping life into you and sucking it out at the same time. His large hot hands began running up and down the exposed back skin of your dress. 

"Jump." He barely broke the kiss whilst ordering you.

You hopped best you could, and his hands found the back of your knees. You wrapped your legs around his torso before feeling large hot hands cup your ass cheeks. Your dress riding up this far was inevitable, but you couldn’t help but let out a small yelp when he clutched your butt like that. 

He pulled away from the kiss for a moment, “Are you gonna make cute sounds like that the whole time?” 

“Are you gonna keep making commentary about it?” You mulled.

He squeezed your butt again, this time smacking the left side. “Only if you want me to.”

“You’ve been making these cute little noises the whole night. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, it’s driving me nuts.” He adds, spinning you away from where you both had been standing. 

You couldn’t say anything, and with him being so close you could only pan your glance else where. 

“And blushing so hard just like that. It’s precious.” He cocked his head in the direction you looked away from him in.

“Can you go back to kissing me?” You requested, a feeble attempt to get him to stop talking about your flushed cheeks. 

“So cute.” He cooed.

“It’s actually more unfair how good looking you are, you know that?” You managed to say.

He stuck his tongue out, shooting a wink at you. 

You eagerly kissed him, taking his tongue into your mouth. He let out a low moan against your lips. You were suddenly eager to please him, you tightened you legs around him, grinding almost. You felt him walking through the condo space. His tongue took control again, swirling around yours. You were lost in his kiss when your back connected with cool fabric. He laid you down on the bed, your small body sinking into the fluff.

“I’m about to spoil you rotten.” He sat up above you, removing his shirt and tossing it to the floor. He was fitter than you expected. Pale skin with hues of pink here and there. You wondered what his skin routine was. Or maybe it was genetics? It was a bit nerve-racking. He seemed to be this perfect human being, physically speaking.

He lowered himself to your neck, putting his hot mouth against your skin. He sucked at the soft skin, nipping it with his teeth. He cupped one of your breasts, squeezing and massaging firmly. You were ecstatic he was finally touching you. As you rubbed your hand against his smooth chest his tongue found your sweet spot. You whined again, earning a hum from him.

You felt him drag his mouth down your neck resting sweet kisses between your mounds. 

“May I?” He asked, tugging the bottom of your dress. You nodded. You sat up, pulling the thing off yourself. 

“Getting impatient I see.” He said, passing his thumb over your chin.

“Hurry it up.” You roll your eyes again.

“Maybe I want our first time to be special.” He teased. 

“I didn’t pin you as the sentimental type.” You say.

“I’m a man of mysteries, but you know that already.” He said, pressing his lips to yours again. 

Your hands gently held the sides of his head, kissing him back. His hair was undeniably soft as silk. He broke away from your mouth, kissing your collarbone instead. His large hands took to your breasts again, exposing one of your nipples to the cool air. They were already hard and swelling to be touched.

He placed his wet mouth onto it, sucking and flicking his tongue against the thing. You were squirming beneath him. Aching to be stimulated else where, your underwear was damp from your core, pooling between your legs.

He wrapped an arm around your waist, lifting you slightly while he sucked. Your placed your hands on the back of his head, almost patting him for doing so well. You whimpered softly, attempting to grind against him to give yourself some sort of stimulation down there. 

“I’ve got you, baby. You’ll get all of it. Be a good girl and hold out for me.” He said, looking up at you. You wish you could’ve watched the slick words fall from his lips, but you couldn’t see them under your breasts. 

You gave him a bashful nod. You were beginning to melt under his touch. You didn’t know what came over you, but you were ready to submit to him. Your needy and throbbing pussy was draining the bratty energy right out of you. He hadn’t done much, but you were ready to do whatever he asked of you.

You felt him unhook your bra whilst he sucked and massaged your mounds. The fabric slid off your body as he mumbled against your skin. “So sexy.” 

“You’re the sexy one.” You told him, knowingly feeding his ego.

“Thank you.” He said proudly, setting you down flat again. You watched him trail his lips down your stomach, leaving kisses in some places” He was feathering and brushing his lips on the skin more than actually kissing it, just to tease you.

He placed his fingers under the hem of your underwear, pulling them down and exposing your sweet sex. Your wetness dribbled onto the bed as he slid the fabric down your thighs and past your ankles.

“Are you this wet all the time?” You watched him cock an eyebrow through his bangs. You bit your lip. 

“You talk too much.” You turned your head. 

“You think so?” He said, spreading your legs and dipping his head towards your sex. He split your sticky, wet folds with two fingers, exposing your clit and pressing the flat of his tongue against it in an upward flick. 

“Mmm.. nnh...” You moan, showing him that you liked it. 

He hummed back at you before pressing a kiss to your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue over it. He pulled you down towards the edge of the bed, mouth still buried onto you. One arm wrapped around your body, hand cradling your rib cage. His other hand pinning one of your legs as far back as he thought you could manage. 

“Ahh... fuck.. ah...” You cursed. You wondered where he learned to eat pussy like that. You were trembling in his arms, raking your hands through his hair and undercut. 

He slipped a finger into you, curling against the roof of your sex, causing your spine to curl in response. You let out a cracked and broken moan, much to his liking.

He inserted another finger into you, allowing more slick to collect onto his hand and into the bed. He was so good, you sat up with the bit of strength you had just to watch him eat it. His deep, azure ocean eyes were resting on your frame the whole time, waiting for you to cum.

“Just like that...” Your eyes rolled back, you were reaching your end. You started clenching around his fingers and throbbing against his tongue. 

“G’head. Cum for me.” He parted his lips from your sex for only a second, flicking and sliding his fingers in and out of you.

Your body obeyed, releasing onto his hands and tongue. He kept at it, overstimulating you as he watched you ride out your orgasm.

When he finally ripped his fingers and tongue from you, you were a panting mess. 

“I’ve got a lot more for you.” You watched him lick the slick from his fingers. He towered above your body, tilting his to the side before speaking again.

“But do you need to rest?” He seemed genuinely concerned for your weak body. He almost thought he should’ve held back a little. Maybe just the tongue would’ve been fine, he thought.

“I’m fine.” You say, partially dazed. He’s definitely something else, you think.

“We can keep going.” You sit up, pushing him backwards. 

“Pants. Take them off.” You demand. 

“Anything you say.” He’s delighted, unbuckling and stripping the rest of his clothes for you. Your eyes twitch at his size. He was part animal without question- he had to be. You’d seen your share of sizes, but you couldn’t humble this guy even if you tried. 

“Are you kidding me,” you mutter. “Is there anything you don’t have?” 

“I hate to break it to you, but no.” He complacently smiled. You found yourself laughing a little before he spoke again.

“Actually, a wife and kids,” he said, turning towards one of his dressers, digging inside. 

“And frankly, I’d like to keep it that way.” He said, ripping the condom wrapper with his teeth. You watched him slide the rubber over and down his shaft. 

“That’s a little disappointing...” the words fell from your lips without you realizing. 

“Again, eventually. I’d like to start off with a girlfriend first, obviously.” His response triggered a mental face palm on your part, making you realize you’d said what you said out loud.

You felt like a teenage girl. Why did a little part of you decide he was husband material just from him eating you out? He’s still a stranger. A naked one, but a stranger. 

“You’re adorable.” He said, climbing above you. “You’ve got a crush on me now?” 

“Get to fucking.” You tugged at his ear, clearly agitated. He dipped his head towards your ear and whispered, 

“That’s okay. I’ve got a crush on you, too.”

The urge to cover your face in embarrassment was strong. He chuckled, “it definitely should be crime for anyone to be this precious.”

“You’re making my heart squeeze, looking all cute like that.” He took hold of his member in his hand, pressing and sliding it through your wet folds. 

“Alright, I’ve made you wait long enough.” He said, penetrating himself into you. Your hot sex slowly wrapped around his length, you wrapped your arms around him bracing yourself for the sharp pain that followed. You let out painful squeak.

“Oh shit- I’m so sorry sweetheart.” He shushed you. He pressed soft kisses to your cheeks and neck. You were surprised at how tender he was  being. His delicate side was seeping out at the seams.

“I’m okay... Just give me a moment.” You say, your heart skipped a beat as you adjusted to his size. He caressed you ears and kept giving you soft kisses on your face and neck.

“If you keep that up I might fall in love with you.” You tease, but apart of you meant it.

“You might.” He said, earning yet another bashful look from you.

“You can move now.” You assured him, nuzzling more into the bed. He braced his hips back before pumping in again, and again, and again. 

He kept poking parts of your vaginal canal that you never even thought possible, like he was scratching this insatiable itch you had for years now. You never knew you could feel this full. 

His lips connected to the skin underneath your ear, sucking and kissing you gently as he thrusted into your hot sex. 

“..so... d-deep... it’s so... deep.” You stuttered through every jab at your core. The heat radiating off of your body felt hot enough to start a fire. If you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought you had a fever. You raked your fingers through the smooth of his undercut and combed through his hair as he fucked you.

“Why the fuck is it so wet?” He groaned into the crook of you neck. Your other arm wrapped around his back, trying so hard not to scratch his delicate skin. You didn’t want to hurt him, nonetheless you couldn’t tell if he’d be okay with it.

Your sweet moans filled the room, which took nicely to his ears. His hips bucked into you quicker, causing ripples of bliss throughout your body. Somehow, your toes were tingling, curling even, and you could feel pleasure in more places than just the center of your sex. You barely knew what to do with your hands, gripping the sheets and pillows around you. 

“You can pull my hair if you want,” he said, lifting himself from the warm space he created between your neck and shoulder. 

You gladly accepted, pulling some hair on the back of his head as he continued to thrust into you. You realized he sort of lead you on, giving you the match to start a fire in him. He shot you the most seductive blue glare as his head jerked back in delight. He bit his lip into a smile, thrusting faster into you.

Your moans went from sweet song to broken and incoherent mess. “T-That’s not f-fair.” 

“When did I ever say I was fair?” 

You felt like he was winning again somehow, not really registering when it became a competition. You wanted to fight back, pulling his hair again, exposing his neck to your mouth. You pressed your mouth to the skin, sucking and biting against it.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, you know that, sweetie?”

He slipped both arms around your body pulling both your bodies up straight. He was still inside you, rocking your body onto his length. He brought his lips back to your neck, sucking and biting against it.

“Ahh...” you panted. “F-fuck, put me down!”

“You’re gonna cum just like this.” He said, bouncing your body up and down his shaft. You didn’t think he could go any deeper, but gravity brought you down onto his length, forcing heavy moans from your lips.

You were lost in his sex, finding yourself bucking your hips back onto his length and grinding forward against him. 

“What a sweet girl, you like that, right? Of course you do.”

You felt yourself reaching another orgasm, and your grinding became erratic against him. 

“Yeah that’s right, grind on it baby.”

You released yourself onto him, leaning forward over his shoulders, panting heavily. 

You were surprised when he laid you back down for a moment, watching him pin both your legs back and over his shoulders. 

“Let’s see if you can take it like this.”

He pumped himself into yet again, earning a ragged moan from your frail self. You could feel him so deep in your guts, you were getting light headed from the overwhelming pleasure. You braced yourself for each thrust as he pounded into you. You juices were splashing with every plunge he made. He sat up, before speaking.

“Hold the back of your legs for me, baby.” He said, watching himself pump into your sopping cunt.

“Such a pretty pussy.” If there was anything Satoru adored most, it had to be watching his partner from an angle like that. He took his thumb and held it to your mouth.

“Suck,” he pressed it to your lips; waiting for you to open your mouth while he fucked you. You let him put his thumb in your mouth while he held your jaw with his large hand. You swirled your tongue around it before he pulled it away and mouthed a ‘thank you’ at you. He placed the slick thumb against your clit for you and rubbed in circles while he pumped. 

You squealed in delight, finding yourself starting to beg him to make you cum again.

“I will honey,” he grinned, “I will.”

Your arms and legs were weak from being pinned back, falling to his sides. You had just enough strength to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down towards you again, connecting his mouth with yours. You begged for his tongue, moaning against his lips. 

“Fuck..” he mumbled into your mouth. You clenched yourself around him. He could feel himself nearing his orgasm but he had promised to spoil you first. It was getting harder for him to fight back the urge to release. 

Your clit was throbbing, and you were dribbling a bit at the mouth. He pulled your bottom lip into his, sucking hard. You couldn’t hold it any longer. 

“You’re cumming again, aren’t you? Moan my name for me, pretty please?”

The pace of his thrusts didn’t falter, giving you the final orgasm you so desperately deserved. You screamed his name, voice cracking whilst he battered your pussy.

Your voice was hoarse, riding your orgasm out as he approached his. It was enough to send him over the edge, satiating his ego and so much more. You’re throbbing erratically, and all he could feel was his cock being gulped swallowed by you. He shuddered against your lips, releasing himself into the rubber he wore inside you. 

He collapsed beside you. Your brain was cloudy from pleasure. You watched his chest rise and fall as he peered and panted back at you, holding his member in his hand. He slid the condom off and tossed it to the floor.

You were alarmed he was still hard. You could barely move, hips gyrating and insides throbbing a muck. Trying your best to gather your thoughts, you turned your body towards him. 

“Will I be getting my review now or later?” He snickered, damp bangs sticking to his forehead. You took hold of the nearest pillow, and slammed it onto his face. 

“Later I presume?” He laughs. “I’ll give you time to think it over.”

You would be thinking about it for while. It wasn’t often you’d meet someone who delivered on everything they said they’d do. It was uncanny how perfect he was. Could you fall for him because of it? Or should you keep your qualms to yourself and try to forget everything about tonight? And now that you remembered, he told you he had a crush on you, or was he egging you on in the spur of the moment?

“Do you want a t-shirt?” He asked, breaking you out of your thoughts. He had already managed to get some underwear on while you laid there lost in thought.

“A t-shirt?” You say, puzzled. Your arms go to cover your bare chest as you sit up, hair completely messy. 

“I’m kind of tired. I thought I could drive you home in the morning instead.” He yawned, pulling on some sweat pants. 

“You’re not kicking me out?” You say, catching the shirt he tossed you as he tied the strings to his pants. 

“Just what do you take me for?” He said, cocking his head to the side. You were starting to wonder if his neck hurt. You watched him bend down and pull out what seemed like a hot towel from an incubator and hand it to you. 

“I can wipe you up if you’d like. Front to back!”

“I’ve got it.” You say nervously, wiping the insides of your damp thighs. 

You slid the gray t-shirt over your head, “And I dunno, I just thought this is where the night would end for me.”

“Sweetie, I literally just told you that I like you. Did you forget?”

“Y-You were serious?” You stutter. 

“Did you not want me to be?” He casually walks towards a mini fridge sitting in the corner. He pulled out two more bottles of water and handed one to you whilst drinking his own.

“It’s not that at all, it’s just we hardly know each other and-

“So you do like me?” He quizzed.

“I mean I wouldn’t say that I don’t but-

“So we can work out the details later.” He grinned. 

You facepalmed. He looked down at you as you sat there on the edge of the bed before letting out a sigh.

“Why don’t you drink some water and then we can get ready for bed? Unless you really want to go home. I’ll drive you. Tell me what you want, it’s no problem at all.”  He kneeled in front of you, showing you that he did have compassionate side. 

You couldn’t lie, you did want to lay in bed with him. It wasn’t a matter of trust anymore. You felt confident that he wouldn’t hurt you. You were more concerned that he decided he liked you on the spot like that. Actually, you were more concerned that you decided you liked him on the spot like that.

“I’m staying. I’m tired too.” You smiled. “I wasn’t trying to fuss. I do like you a lot.” A little more than you should, but you decided to leave that part out. 

“Then that settles it.” He smiles back, holding your chin. “Now, it’s important to stay hydrated! Especially after a work out!” 

He held the water up to your mouth.

“I can do it myself.” You say, grabbing the water out of his hands, taking a few swigs. He holds up his hands in defense.

“Well, the bathroom is down the hall to the left. You can also use my personal bathroom, which is through that door right there. I also have spare tooth brushes too!” He assured you.

“So you do do this often. Hmph.” You say, laying back on the bed. 

“Girls have it rough. I try my best to have the necessities.” He shrugged, laying beside you. Your eyes drag down towards his bare chest skin before looking right back up towards his eyes.

“I can also go sleep in the other room if you need more security.” He suggests.

“I was looking forward to sleeping with you in here.” You say quietly.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

You glared at him, acknowledging that you know that he heard you and you wouldn’t repeat yourself. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” He laughed. He tucked himself underneath the covers before lifting the other side and patting the empty space for you. 

You crawled up and slid underneath the cool fabric. He reached over your body to turn the lights off. 

He snuggled himself down to your height and you could still faintly see his face.

“Comfy?” You nodded shyly. His bed was undeniably firm yet fluffy. 

“Good.” He smiled.

He’d been so kind yet so arrogant at the same time. Just how were you going to figure him out? He said there was time to work out the details, but your head still spun a thousand miles a minute. For someone who had it all, and clearly many secrets, he was seemingly cheery. You had no idea what bothered this guy. But he’d taken a liking to you somehow. And you couldn’t stop blushing at the fact that he literally just fucked you senseless and now he’s smiling at you in his bed like nothing happened. 

You inhaled and exhaled deeply, earning a confused look from him.

“10/10 oral experience. 10/10 sexual experience. 10/10 aftercare experience. 8.5/10 for not giving me pants. Overall rating is 9.6/10. Would come again.” 

“You could’ve asked for pants,” He smirked getting up. You tugged his arm, shaking your head.

“You’re gonna let all the heat out. Stay.” 

“But my score? I deserve a 10/10.” He argued playfully. 

You wrapped your arm around him, pulling him back down underneath the blanket with you.

“Here’s your extra credit. Cuddle with me until the morning. It might change your grade.

Results may vary.”

He laughed lightly, wrapping his arms around your body. 

“About that ‘would come again’ part. When will that be?” He said, looking down at you. 

“Soon.” You said, burying your head into his chest.

Part 2

[jamespotterthefirst]

The Viper (AU: Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Words: 1.5 K Warning: Cursing. Mentions of s e x Summary: Detective Ramsey is a step closer to capturing a notorious criminal. If only Miss Allende, a key witness, would cooperate.

Author’s Note: I am an idiot because the beautiful @beastlyinstrument sent me this AU prompt and I didn't know I was to write a fic. Anyway, once I caught on, I got right to work on this lol. Thank you so much for the prompt! Thank you immensely to @aestheticartsx for pre-reading!

When Ethan awoke that morning, he couldn't possibly predict he'd be punching Declan Nash square in the jaw. It was a long standing fantasy of his and finally, in the crowded, smoke-filled bar, Ethan had found a good enough excuse to do it. One minute, the lecherous pig was forcing his company on the visibly distressed blonde, the next Ethan was shoving him away and punching him with such spectacular force that Nash flew back into a storm of glasses, bottles, and furniture.

Ethan also never imagined his hand, red and swollen from the satisfying impact against Nash's leering face, would be tended to in a desolate dressing room by the loveliest woman he had ever set eyes on. Then again, his mind would require an exceptional measure of talent to invent the perfect arch of her brows, the graceful slope of her nose, the lush swell of her lips. And those eyes— almond-shaped, bright, and the most captivating shade of green imaginable.

Alluring green eyes that were currently meeting his, sending his pulse into an elated flutter.

“All better,” she informed him in that caress of a voice.

Something about the spark in her eyes as she watched him put in a comfortable and flirtatious lull, so much unlike his usual self. The same warm ease had blossomed in his chest when his eyes met hers from across the bar only minutes ago.

“Are you certain you're not a doctor, Miss…”

“Allende,” she supplied, red lips curling into a coy smile. “And no doctors here, just years of experience cleaning up messes. Though if they all looked as handsome as you, I wouldn't mind patching them up.”

She punctuated the heady little pronouncement with a wink that almost made his breath hitch. Ethan's good hand twitched at his side just as she moved away to a vanity. All he could do was watch as she placed herself in front of the lighted mirror, reapplying her lipstick with skilled precision.

“So what brings you here, Detective Ramsey? Don't tell me you just stopped by to defend my honor from the likes of Declan Nash.”

“Though an honorable pursuit, that's not the reason for my visit,” he said, their eyes meeting through the mirror. “I'm here to investigate the Kenmore bank robbery from two nights ago.”

Miss Allende hummed in acknowledgement but added nothing more.

“A reliable source claimed I could come here to find all the information I needed about the Viper.”

She raised her perfectly shaped brows at him.

“You think the Viper is a regular here?”

“It's what I'm here to find out.”

There was a pause in which she realized his intent. To his surprise, she laughed.

“And you think I'm the one who's going to rat the Viper out?”

When Ethan said nothing, only held her gaze steadily, she laughed even more still. This time, Ethan could hear an edge to the sound, something akin to fear.

“I'm not that keen on making enemies, Detective.”

In the silence that followed, she carefully brushed the platinum blonde curls that cascaded down to her shoulders. Those green eyes remained fixed on her reflection, and something told him she was studiously avoiding his eye. His instinct told him she was afraid, despite how masterfully she tried to hide it under the flirtatious veil. To his astonishment, his stomach clenched unpleasantly, the urge to protect her tightening his jaw.

Before he could think of a tactful way to continue his questioning, she rose to her feet, smoothing the front of the black dress clinging to her skin. “Now, if that was everything, Detective Ramsey, I really must be getting back to the bar. I'm due on stage in less than ten minutes.”

Ethan intercepted her before he could stop himself as she moved to the door.

“Please, Miss Allende—”

“Lilac.”

“What?”

“My name. You can call me Lilac.”

“That's—”

Beautiful.

He had never heard anything like it.

“Lilac. Anything you might know about the criminal known as the Viper will be of great help.”

Lilac paused, studying his expression for any trustworthiness she could cling on to. Ethan gazed back, acutely aware of how close their faces were in the silence. Something slipped in her guarded expression, revealing a small hint of vulnerability.

At last, she sighed.

“I can't,” she said in a quiet voice. “I'm not—”

“I will protect you.”

Lilac startled at that, as though she had seldom heard the words before. She swallowed, her gaze holding his as she considered his offer, something heavy and tangible pressing into the small space that separated them.

“You offering to be my bodyguard, Detective?” she asked in a sultry voice, the words dripping from her lips like honey. She added a coquettish smile for good measure, leaving no doubt that the mask was securely back into place. “I accept, but you don't need the job title to press me against a wall with your body.”

Ethan had no hope of pushing his point as a crimson nail traced the outline of his jaw. The slow, lazy line made his breath hitch, his mind racing with thoughts of her tight little body flush against his.

Fuck the wall.

He could bend her over that vanity, forcing her to look at him through the mirror as she whimpered his name.

Lilac shifted closer to him still, lips parted as her finger descended down his neck. The intent in her gaze told him she wanted the same thing. Ethan leaned in to capture her lips but something in the mirror caught his attention and made him pause.

Lilac blinked at him, befuddled by his sudden stony expression.

“What?”

Ethan said nothing, observing the stain on the skin of her back. It was insignificant, otherwise imperceptible if not by the slight shift in the fabric of her dress.

Yet, there it was, as present as any hard evidence he might find.

“You missed a spot.”

Lilac stepped away from him, puzzled.

“What are—”

“Tar is notoriously difficult to get off the skin, isn't it, Miss Allende?” His voice grew icier with every word. “But you knew that. Hell, you knew that two nights ago when you slipped on the Kenmore rooftop during the chase.”

“Fuck!” the masked figure had hissed as they hit the black substance coating part of the roof.

She continued to back away. “I don't know what—”

“Tell me, Miss Allende, did you research Kenmore before you decided to strike?”

“You're—”

“Did you know the rooftops were under construction before you led us up there in your hasty little escape attempt?”

Lilac finally halted her steps, keeping her eyes trained on Ethan.

Something shifted in her expression, like a mask falling to the floor.

Then, she smiled wickedly at Ethan.

“Very good, Detective Ramsey. Maybe you are as good as they say you are.”

There was a pronounced silence, steely blue eyes boring into effervescent green ones. In a blinding motion, they both moved—Ethan to restrain, Lilac to evade.

Their bodies were a flurry of limbs moving to strike or to defend. The furniture in the small dressing stood no chance against their skill, which Ethan was surprised to find Lilac possessed. She moved with admirable grace and precision for someone wearing stilettos and a confining, skin-tight dress. It didn't stop her from aiming a high kick at his head, which Ethan barely dodged.

“You're under arrest,” he grunted when he pushed her against a wall.

Lilac laughed in his face, her crimson lips only inches from his.

“You're cute when you're confident, Ramsey.”

In a swift movement, she freed her body from his hold, light and unassailable like the waters of a raging river.

More swirls of movement as they struck, blocked, and kicked, each paired with a breathless grunt or swear. At last, just as his technique descended into sloppiness, Ethan managed to press her against the wooden tiles of the floor. His hands pinned her wrists above her head, his knees digging securely against her hips.

“How did you know?” she asked between pants, still donning a devious smile despite her position. “That this is my favorite position to be in?”

Ethan stiffened as he held her, unable to look away from the rise and fall of her chest. It struck him then how fighting her was not unlike fucking her, just how they wanted only minutes ago. Before he could reign his thoughts in, she freed her legs, hitched them on his hips, and reversed their positions with trained strength and agility.

“Or maybe me on top is better?” she asked thoughtfully.

Ethan grunted, moving to free himself from her grasp, but she was surprisingly strong.

“It's a shame you're a damn good detective,” she continued. “We would've had so much fun together.”

As Ethan unsuccessfully tried to free himself, he saw Lilac's hands delve into her blonde curls until she removed what he now knew to be a wig. A downpour of glossy, dark hair fell past her shoulders, reminiscent of the dark braid he thought he saw in the darkness on the night of the chase. Even struggling and breathless as he was, his traitorous mind couldn't help but recognize how much lovelier she looked with dark hair.

“You'll never get away, Viper.”

Lilac laughed out loud at the use of the moniker, which felt so ill fitted.

“Even as talented as you are, I'm afraid you don't have all the facts yet.” She pressed a hot, languid kiss to his neck before using his own handcuffs to bind him to a nearby pipe. “But something tells me you'll get there soon enough.”

With one last charming smile, she rearranged her dark hair, hoisted herself onto the window, and vanished into the night.

_________________________

Author's Note: Y'all I don't know what this was lol. Thank you so much for reading this! It was so much fun!

A few notes:

The next chapter of my OH3 AU is almost done. Yay!

I'm almost caught up with replies and reading all the fics I missed out on the week I was gone. Double yay!

And (not to jinx myself) but I might finally sit my butt down to complete the next chapter of the Picta series (ages later oops)

Thank you everyone for being here, despite it being almost a month the OPH ended :( Love you guys!

*tags in a reblog

[winterscaptain]

anyway we could get a worried!hotch blurb when you’re in the hospital after getting injured? i’m a sucker for anything fluffy with hotch

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

i LOVE worried!hotch. i am always happy to oblige, anon! this is.........not a drabble lmao i got excited. its a little angsty but then its really cute i promise 

i hope you like it!! it’s a common scenario with a widely accepted structure, so i was excited to put my own spin on it :)

words: 1939 warnings: swearing, canon-typical injury, medical setting, a very worried hotch

masterlist | requests closed

+++

You weren’t sure how this case slipped from the team’s control so quickly, but somehow you were alone, on the floor with two black eyes and at least three broken ribs. It was hard to breathe, and something really didn’t feel right. 

The unsub was unconscious beside you, felled by a well-placed kick to the jaw. You crawled to your cell phone. Slowly. Painfully. 

The coughs that shuddered from your lungs were wet and heavy and you could barely see. You turned your phone on and called Penelope, falling unconscious before you could say anything. With any luck, she would be able to find you with just that much. 

+++

Hotch’s knuckles were white where his fingers strangled the steering wheel. His only focus was the coordinates he just received. Ignored was Emily’s death grip on the handle above the door. Ignored was JJ leaning into the front over the center console, getting more tactical information from Derek, who was still at the precinct. Ignored was the ache in his clenched jaw. 

The door to the house nearly fell off its hinges when Hotch kicked it open, the SUV forgotten on the lawn behind him. Emily followed, striding through the house and clearing every room before moving on. 

Hotch made a beeline for the basement, the door carelessly left open. The lack of sound acutely disturbed him, and he pushed away images of Haley’s body, laying silent on the floor of their guest room. 

Silence, he knew, often meant unpleasant surprises. 

JJ’s light footsteps followed behind him as he descended. He saw the unsub right away, stirring at the foot of the stairs. JJ branched off, checking the unsub’s pulse before rolling him over and cuffing him. She called for Emily, but the rushing in Hotch’s ears made it hard to hear anything. 

He knelt beside you, finding a pulse and rattling, labored breathing. There was blood weeping from wounds laced across your side, arm, and thigh. He put pressure on the worst of it, his white button-down a lost cause. stained red to the elbow.

Images of Haley and Kate flashed before his eyes, and blinked them away, violently shaking his head. 

“Call medics! Now!” He lifted your head, supporting it in the crook of his arm as he did his best to cover your wounds with his bare hands.

You coughed, your consciousness returning for a moment, “Aaron.” and there was blood. “Aaron...” 

“You’re okay, honey. It’s okay. I’m here. Medics are on their way, I promise. I love you. You’re okay. I love you.” He wanted that to be what you heard, so you weren’t scared, so you stayed awake. 

So much blood. 

+++

The waiting room was quiet. Hotch sat with his elbows on his knees, blood still spattered on his shirt, staining his hands, streaked across his face. He’d done his best to give the paramedics the space they needed to work, but it was hard to watch as you struggled for breath. 

One of your ribs had punctured a lung, collapsing it. They said surgery would be a couple hours, but there was a good chance you’d make it. “A simple patch,” the nurse said. 

Aaron stared into nothing, his eyes close to crossing as the tiles blurred in front of him. Belatedly, he realized the blur was tears. 

A hand on his shoulder startled him. Dave. 

“It’ll be alright, Aaron.”

He barked a quiet, humorless laugh. His voice was raw when he replied. “How can you know that?” 

“Because I know you.” Dave paused. “And I know there’s more to it than what we all see in the office.”

A bag was dropped at Aaron’s feet, in front of a pair of boots. 

“Hotch, you need to get cleaned up.” Derek’s voice was shockingly gentle. 

Aaron looked up for the first time in what felt like hours. JJ, Spencer, and Emily stood a little off to the side. With a sigh, he heaved himself to his feet and snatched the bag from the floor. 

It was hard for him to wash your blood from his hands and face. It felt like a piece of you, washing down the drain. His hands shook as he washed them over and over, well above his elbows. 

As much as he hated to admit it, the soft grey cotton of his shirt felt much better against his skin than his sticky, stiff dress shirt. He mechanically slipped on a pair of worn jeans and sneakers, thankful he thought to pack them in the extra compartment of his go bag.

One of your sweatshirts was at the bottom of the duffle, probably from the last time you spent an unsanctioned night in his hotel room. 

He held it to his face, your familiar smell overwhelming his senses. When he placed your sweatshirt back into his bag and packed away his soiled clothes, his hands weren’t shaking so much. His breath came easier. 

The air conditioning felt cool against his bare arms when he finally left the bathroom, returning to the huddle in the corner of the waiting room. JJ was doing her best not to pace. She was seated, her leg bouncing and the inside of her cheek firmly planted between her teeth. She looked ready to jump to her feet at any moment, which probably explained – 

Derek, sitting beside her, his arm looped through hers and his legs splayed out before him. 

Dave sat with his head bowed, and Hotch was near-certain he was praying. Emily sat beside him, her head on his shoulder. Her eyes were closed, but she wasn’t sleeping. Her brows were far too drawn for that, her mouth too tense. She was picking at her nails. Again. 

Spencer, of course, was reading, but he couldn’t sit still. He shifted and shuffled every few minutes. 

+++

“Goddamn it.”

Hotch smacked the vending machine with the heel of his hand. It had already eaten five dollars, and his patience was admittedly running thin. It was the fourth hour of your surgery, and he was feeling the weary weight of constant vigilance.  

“Hey. Hotch.” Emily trotted up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Let me.” 

She gently fed another bill into the machine, and a bag of chips met their match and landed at the bottom. She handed the bag to Aaron and guided him to a nearby bench.  

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you two, or should I take a guess?”

Aaron sighed and pulled a hand down his face. “Do we have to do this right now?”

“It’s as good a time as any. Neither one of us are going anywhere.” 

“Prentiss...” He trailed off, not sure where to start. He looked over at her. “Emily.”

She shuffled closer to him and mirrored his posture, her elbows resting on her knees, fingers loosely laced. “Just start from the beginning.” 

So he did. 

He told her about meeting you in the elevator for the first time. 

He told her about the way you tripped up the stairs just outside the entrance to the office the second time you saw each other, your files scattering on the snow-dusted concrete. 

He told her about the way you made him laugh. 

He told her about your first date a few months later, and how he couldn’t get you out of his head. 

He told her how you were with Jack, how often his son asked to see you and the way you always gave him your full attention.

He told her about your transfer into the unit, the dichotomy between the joy of having you beside him and the fear for your safety in the field. 

He told her that he loved you, in so many words. 

“I feel alive,” he said. “I can’t lose –“ He cut himself off and swallowed thickly. 

“That’s not gonna happen. It’s not. You’ll both go home at the end of this.” She bumped his shoulder playfully. “And I am the authority on near-death experiences, here.” 

Aaron gave her a small smile in spite of himself. 

Emily stood and brushed imaginary crumbs from her pants in an authoritative and decisive fashion. “Now, I’m getting you some coffee. Eat your chips, Hotch. Try to taste them, too.”

She’d only taken three steps, when - 

“Hey, Emily?”

She turned over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

+++

You opened your eyes to the image of Derek sitting next to your bed, peering at you. 

“Jesus Christ, Morgan.” You couldn’t help but jump a little, and your ribs twinged. “You scared the shit out of me.” 

He grinned at you. “So. You and Hotch?”

You rolled your eyes, and even that hurt. “Seriously? How long have you been sitting there waiting to ask me that?”

“Three and a half hours.” 

You opened your mouth to retort, but Aaron stepped in before you could draw breath. You watched him as he crossed the room with purpose and set his coffee down. 

Ignoring Derek entirely, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to your lips, then your forehead. He took your hands in his and pressed kisses to those, too. 

“Feeling better?” He asked. The transformation of the man who walked through the door and the man that held your hands was stark. His eyes were softer, brighter, his shoulders lower. 

You nodded, smiling fondly at him. “Much better, now.”

A noisy sigh erupted behind you. “Guys...c’mon.”

You looked back over at Derek with a smile, the shadow of Aaron looming over your shoulder.

+++

At the end of it, you were fine. Your lung was repaired (for the most part), your wounds mended. The hardest part was taking time off, and the physical therapy. 

Physical therapy sucked. 

Most afternoons found you spending time with Jack at the apartment. As soon as your arm was strong enough to manage a controller again, you spent hours playing his favorite games with him while the team was away on cases. 

Your office at home had become essentially a satellite BAU hub. The team phoned you in to almost every case, and you took a great amount of joy curating maps and profiles from your office. The display was rather beautiful, at the end of it. Notes and photos and maps all over the walls. 

There were footsteps behind you as you finished pinning a post it to the board. “Hi, jet-setter.” You turned around and quirked a smile at him, admiring him in one of his new suits. He walked toward you, leaving his briefcase at the door. 

He framed your face with his hands and you leaned into him. He kissed you gently, and you slid your hands under his suit jacket. The light, spicy scent of his cologne hit your nose and you smiled against his mouth. 

“I missed you out there,” he said, his lips traveling down your neck and jaw. 

You huffed a laugh, and you planted your hands in his hair. “I was on video with Penelope the whole time.” 

He hummed into your skin. “Not the same and you know it.” He pulled back, running his hands over your upper arms. 

You watched him take stock of you, his eyes tracing over the scars on your forearm, your pinkie that wouldn’t quite sit straight anymore, and the nebulizer on your desk behind you. “I’m alright, Aaron.”

He kissed your cheek and wrapped his arms around you, holding you to his chest. “I know.” Your hands curled around the fabric of his dress shirt at his sides. He tucked his head and pressed his lips to your skin. “I know.”

+++

tagging: @arganfics​ @quillvine​ @stxrryspencer​ @agenthotchner​ @wandaswitxh​ @hurricanejjareau​ @fics-ilike​ @ange-must-die​ @ughitsbaby​ @rousethemouse​ @criminalsmarts​ @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal​ @shrimpyblog​ @genevievedarcygranger​ @ssaic-jareau​ @saintd0lce​ @good-heavens-chris-evans​ @davidrossi-ismydad​ @angelsbabey​ @gublergirls​ @writefasttalkevenfaster​ @venusbarnes​ @vintagecaptainspidey​ @micaiahmoonheart​ @ogmikis @thatreallyis-americas-ass​ @marvels-agents100​ @newtslatte​ @risenfox​ @mrs-dr-reid​ @captain-christopher-pike​ @joemazzello-imagines​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @sebbybaby0​ @wannabewinchester67 @pan-pride-12 @hotchlinebling @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @emmice9 

[angelaiswriting]

The Contest (4 of 7) | some R6S guys x fem!reader

✏️ Pairing: Tachanka x fem!reader

✏️ Summary: Dominic Brunsmeier can’t keep his goddamn mouth shut when it comes to eating pussy, and that’s how Y/N finds herself being drafted to be the judge of this pussy-eating contest. Alex is on another level. (Straight out of a dream @kind-wolf​ had)

✏️ A/N: enjoy 😈

✏️ Warnings: 18+ only (oral f/r, fingering)

✏️ Word-count: 3,762

✏️ The links to the other parts are in the masterlist linked in my bio.

<< part three: timur <<  |  PART FOUR: ALEXSANDR  |  >> part five: dominic >>

Y/N had feared having to avoid Dominic after leaving Timur’s room because the fact that he had a rival in the head game field had been painted all over her face, even somehow visible in the way she walked. But there hadn’t been anyone outside her door when she reached it and as she hastily punched her code into the door pad, she had found herself heaving a sigh of relief.

The next day, though, avoiding Dominic had become a feat. He was growing restless, and probably the fact that some of his friends were eating her out was exciting him more than he had anticipated or that he could have thought. More than she could have ever thought, as well.

“C’mon,” he was saying, breathing down her neck from behind, his hands on her hips as he pressed himself against her rear. She was typing the last batch of data into the computer of the testing facility, and his constant distraction wasn’t helping her at all — not when she had been lost in her own thoughts for two days now. “We go down to the pool —” and his lips pressed kisses on the faint hickeys Timur had left behind — “and we have a good time. No one has to know.”

She cackled, typing the last numbers in before going over her work in search of mistakes in the transcription. “Are you so worried about this contest that you want to remind me what your cock feels like?” she asked eventually, turning around with a sly smile on her lips.

Her left hand, the one not holding the bluetooth keyboard, moved up to his throat for a moment, gave it a brief squeeze, before it trailed down his chest and stopped on his crotch.

He scoffed, bucking his hips forward and into her hand. “I’m not scared of shit. I know how good my game is. I don’t need to fear a stupid contest, I know I can make you scream with or without my cock, Hase.”

Her smirk made his smile falter for a second. “What, then? Would you like to witness? See your homies eat this —” and she moved one of his hands so that it was cupping her through her shorts — “pussy? Did you play with yourself when I was with Elias and Timur?”

She knew he loved the dirty talk. He got off of it, just as she did, there was no denying that. She’d climb mirrors if he talked dirty to her when she couldn’t have him — and it had happened on a mission, once.

“I did, yeah.” He grabbed her keyboard, put it down on the shelf to her side, and moved in between her legs, pulling her hips close to his. “But I know you have the day off, and me dicking you down won’t interfere with anything. I could take you right here, even with that security camera in the corner blinking at us. Let the security guys know how good you let me fuck you.”

She let his face inch closer to hers as her hands came up to grip his biceps, and when their lips brushed together with his clear intention of kissing her — and certainly slip his tongue into her mouth, something he hadn’t done in a few days now — she pushed him away.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” she warned him. “Don’t break the rules of the contest you fought so ardently for. This will be over in less than a week and when the winner has been announced and has had another go with me —”

“That’s not gonna happen, baby.”

“It is,” she nodded, cupping his cheeks before finally pressing a chaste kiss to his lips in the attempt of satiating him a little. “I said that would happen if I felt like it, and you agreed to it. What are you worrying about? You might even win, Dom. But after that happens, I’ll let you fuck me wherever you want. Even against this wall, for the security guys behind that camera. Friends with benefits, remember?”

He grunted against her lips and he rolled his eyes. But then, after having mulled her words over in his head, he heaved a sigh. “Fine, one more week. I can get myself off just fine until then.”

A smirk stretched on her lips and she had to do her best to hide her chuckle. “That’s my good boy.”

*

She was in the gym that afternoon. She hadn’t expected to have a day off from the contest, and not even to find herself bored to the bone and almost pissed off at the idea that she didn’t have some oral sex to look foward to that day. It was cute that they cared about her, but the night before with Timur and the knowledge that Dominic had the worst hots for her had left her in a mood that required more than the machines in the gym facility could help her with.

And it felt atrocious. To not be able to stop thinking about some men that had always been just friends to her, but that had had — and would soon have — their mouths eating her out. And to have to endure this without saying anything, not after how adamantly she had stressed her own fucking rules…

The cold shower she took in the gym helped her more than training had, though, and she found herself standing there, immobile, under the steady stream of water raining down her face and into her eyes every now and then. The anxiousness and that weird and heavy sensation that had kept her whole body in a grip slowly left her muscles, until all that she was left with was the post-workout exhaustion.  Little by little, the feeling came back to her limbs and she became aware of the pulsing sensation in her knuckles and the heaviness in her legs.

It was uncomfortable — but at the same time, not even in a weird way, just what she had been looking for.

She turned off the water, her skin covered in almost painful goosebumps, and grabbed the towel from the hanger. The sigh that left her lips was almost an involuntary moan when she pressed her face against the soft fabric of the towel and breathed its clean smell in.

Her back to the doorless frame that led back to the locker room, she took her time drying herself off and as she did so, she missed Alexsandr walking in and standing in the way, staring right at her. Hadn’t her mind been somewhere else, she would have picked up on the soft, almost squeaky sound his sneakers made on the tiled floor — or so she would try to convince herself a few hours later, when she’d be back in her room with a vibrator between her legs.

But then she turned around, her hands busy toweling her breasts off, and she saw the man standing there, towering in the door frame with an unreadable expression on his face.

“I am horny,” he stated, matter-of-factly. His hands were intermittently closing into fists and even from the other side of the shower room, she could see how heavily his chest heaved with every breath he took.

There was no stopping that moan that left her lips upon hearing his blunt honesty. Absent-mindedly, one of her hands came back up and her fingers spread wide to cup a boob, the perked nipple peeking through from between index and middle finger.

“I have been trying to get myself off, but I can’t stop thinking about eating you out,” he continued, his eyes never leaving hers, his feet rooted to the spot he had stopped in. His left hand moved to grab himself from above his sweatpants, almost as though to highlight his point.

Her legs trembled and while he smirked slightly at the sight, she managed to get a grip on herself.

“I know I haven’t warned you one day in advance as you wanted.” His eyes were fixed on her naked form — surely on her vulva, but definitely on her breast, as well. “But I really —” and he took one step forward — “really want to have the taste of you in my mouth.”

The air burned her lungs, both on the way in and on the way out. She stared at him, his words echoing in her mind, and she pictured this man — this mentor of sorts — fisting himself and not managing to come, just to then go and walk around the base to look for her with a badly concealed boner raging in his pants.

Her towel dropped to the floor and Y/N found herself taking a couple of wobbly steps forward, paying attention to how she moved so as not to slip and fall. She had already given herself a bump on the head when she slipped in the shower once, and she wasn’t in the mood to re-live such an accident when she could, in fact, be getting head.

“I don’t know what you’re waiting for, then, Alex,” she managed to squeak out.

She was doing her best not to pay it too much attention, but she couldn’t help but feel self-conscious somehow. This man much older than her was standing there fully dressed, and his gaze made her skin burn as it scanned over her body as if to commit every detail to memory. Elias and Timur had seen her naked as well, but she had been prepared for that — she had known they would come and she had made sure to be found as perfect as she could. But Alexsandr took her by surprise and suddenly, part of her brain was second guessing herself.

He moved closer. His movements were slow and measured, and for a moment he did feel like some sort of predator. “You are so beautiful,” he said. There was surprise in his voice and that had blood rushing to her cheeks.

“Did you use to think I wasn’t?”

His hands settled on her hips, his fingertips pressing into her flesh and squeezing twice, almost experimentally. Then, they moved upward, caressed her sides until his thumbs stopped underneath the swell of her breasts.

Although his breath was scorching hot on her skin, there were goosebumps tugging at it.

“I never tried to picture you naked before the contest,” he replied after what felt like an eternity of her heart drumming wildly against her ribcage.

His lips brushed against her right temple and he inhaled her smell, his hands moving up her back and then back down her spine again.

“But I see now I won’t be able to stop thinking about you.”

He pulled back a little, just enough to be able to stare into her eyes again, before his gaze swiped lower, down her breasts. His hands came up, covered her boobs and kneaded their flesh. Her nipples ended up between his thumbs and forefingers, and she fought to breathe when he rolled them between rough fingers.

She only realized he was slowly making her take steps backward when her back touched the freezing cold tiled wall of the room.

“So young and beautiful,” he murmured against her cheek before dropping to his knees with a heavy thud. She didn’t know whether he felt pain at that, but it was also true that she didn’t spend too long thinking about it, not when he grabbed one of her legs and raised it to rest it over his shoulder, never once breaking eye contact.

His forehead leaned forward, then, and as he pressed it against her lower belly, he inhaled again.

“I can faintly smell your arousal,” was what he said, voice low and raspy as he fixed himself inside his sweatpants. “Can’t wait to taste you.”

He hummed with closed lips against her skin, and she swore she could feel the vibrations of the sound he made throughout her whole body.

The temptation of biting back with something along the lines of Then why don’t you? tickled the tip of her tongue, but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud. She didn’t know what it was about him in this moment, but she knew she’d do anything he told her to — and that she’d let him do anything he wanted if she didn’t manage to remain lucid enough to remember only mouth and fingers were allowed in the game.

His head turned to the side, toward the leg draped over his shoulder, and he somewhat gently bit down before swiping his tongue over his mark. That jolt of pain came unexpectedly and in her attempt to keep her balance, her arms shot out: she grabbed his free shoulder with one hand and his hair with the other. But she didn’t have time to complain, for his nose was already bumping into her clit.

He groaned — at her smell, at how wet she was, at the situation as a whole, she didn’t know, but it didn’t matter.

His thumbs parted her inner labia and his tongue came out to trace her entrance. When he groaned again this time, she felt herself clench around nothing as the back of her head thudded against the wall and her gaze fixed itself on a crack in one of the tiles at the other side of the shower room.

He licked her again, and this time his tongue ended up a bit deeper than the first time. Then he repeated the action. Again. And. Again. And each time the movement of his tongue seemed to become more focused, in a way, making her pulse all over as her breath was cut short.

“I love your taste,” he groaned.

One of his thumbs came up to circle her clit, and the middle finger of his other hand slipped into her achingly slowly. When she opened her eyes — to order him what, she had no clue —, she found him already staring up at her, his chin wet and his lips stretched into a proud smirk.

She couldn’t look away, hypnotized as she was by this mountain of a man on his knees for her. There was something in the sight itself that made her clench around his finger, and that was the moment he waited for to add another. She didn’t find it in herself to remind him to eat her out, because she knew, somehow, deep down, that it would be his mouth that would make her orgasm and not his fingers. He knew how to play a game and although he didn’t necessarily play to win, he didn’t exactly play to participate either.

When he started fucking her with a third finger as well, his head moved back between her legs and his lips latched onto her clit. Her heart was in her throat, in the pit of her stomach, her ears. Christ, even in her toes! Her breathing trembled with each exhale and even though his mouth and fingers on and inside her turned her silly, with whimpers and moans falling from her lips she had no control over, she kept her eyes on his and he seemed to bask in it.

The coil in her stomach was tightening and the more he flicked or sucked her clit, or the more his fingers teased her from the inside, the tighter it seemed to become, until it was hard to keep standing on her left leg. It was trembling, and if it wasn’t for Alex’s hand on her stomach and his shoulders keeping her pressed against the wall, she knew she’d fall.

“Fuck, I’m…”

But her body went stiff, her lungs stopped working, and her eyelids closed shut under the blinding orgasm that washed over her all of a sudden, in a way. Her brain switched off and when it rebooted, it seemed to be working on a slower program than usual.

When she did come back to her senses, though, she had to push Alexsandr’s head away from her core and when she looked down, chest heaving painfully as she fought to breathe somewhat regularly, his chin was glistening with her juices.

He withdrew his fingers, then, and put her trembling leg back down so that he could stand up.

“Open your mouth,” he instructed, and she did so without a second thought. Then, when his fingers were resting heavily on her tongue, she closed it again and sucked them clean. She moaned at her own taste, and although her cheeks were burning and she was dying to look away, to avert her gaze from his, she found herself unable to do so. “You taste divinely,” he hummed. Then, when he pressed closer to her and his lips brushed against her earlobe, he almost made her knees give out. “I would’ve never thought you’d squirt, though.”

She gasped, and he took the chance to take his fingers out of her mouth.

“Now I can go and have my orgasm,” he declared, happy both with the result he had had and with the fact that he had finally done his part in the contest.

But when she exclaimed a pointed No!, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“No, please, one more time.”

He stopped in his tracks, taken aback by her words for a moment before they registered and he picked her up in his arms and her lips crashed against his. The kiss was searing, all tongues and teeth as he blindly walked back into the locker room.

“I want to sit on your face this time,” she whispered against his lips, eyes boring into his as she ground herself against his crotch. “Can I?”

He smirked and had she known her legs would turn to jelly and she’d have trouble walking after, she would’ve asked him to take her back to either of their rooms. “You are the judge,” he pointed out, kneading the flesh of her buttcheeks in his hands as he still had her in his arms. “This contest is for you as well.”

She wasn’t down on her feet for too long: Alexsandr pushed two benches together and although she hadn’t thought it possible, together they were large enough for him to fit. He laid down on his back, his feet firmly planted on the floor, and he stretched one hand out for her to grab so that he could guide her.

The position was uncomfortable, with no padding between the cold and hard surface of the benches and her knees when she straddled the upper part of his chest, but she knew Alex knew how to make up for it. He moved his arms out of the way so that she could lay her shins flat on the surface, and then grabbed a hold of her thighs in his strong hands to guide her down toward his face.

“Sit, zayka,” and she could clearly hear the smirk in his voice when he spoke.

She lowered herself closer, her hands planted on his chest and her fingertips digging into his pectorals, when his breath hitting her still sensitive core made her huff out and squirm.

Nothing would have prepared her for the whine that scratched her throat on the way up when he suckled on her clit and his nose brushed right between her folds. Her arms failed her when he started eating her out again, and she found herself leaning forward on him.

He was still hard in his pants, and the sight of him alone would have been enough to make her moan out loud, unconcerned that someone could walk by the locker room and overhear her literally losing her mind with a man’s face buried tongue-deep inside her pussy.

“Alex.”

He hummed against her, his hands pulling her down flush against his face — and if there was someone other than Dominic that she was sure could breathe out of their ears as the man had joked about, then that was Tachanka.

She caught him groaning something in Russian, something she would have most likely understood hadn’t she been lost in the pleasure that was gripping every fiber of her being. His tongue dived into her and when he spanked one of her buttcheeks, one of her hands slammed down on his thigh, just this shy of slipping underneath the waistband of his sweatpants and wrapping around his erection. She had to bite down on the other to keep herself from being too loud.

It took her a while for her brain to connect with her body and pick up on the slow grinding of her hips on his face. She tried stopping the automatic movement, but another one of his slaps — on her other buttcheek this time — told her she should continue.

“I need…” She was stuttering, head completely empty but for thoughts of him — and the sight of him in front of her. If he won — and there were hella high chances that he would come out of that contest as its winner —, she knew where else she wanted to have him. “Fuck, I—” but her jaw went slack, both hands now gripping at the sides of the bench to keep herself up, and she couldn’t even finish forming her thought in her mind.

He slapped her ass again. Two of his fingers plunged inside her without notice and his lips wrapped around her clit. The air left her lungs, and what would have been a high-pitched moan turned out silent when she came. Hard.

When she came back to her senses, she was lying down against his chest, her head on his thigh and her nose barely brushing against his crotch. There was a darker stain on the fabric where he had come inside his sweatpants, and she moaned at the thought that he had most likely gone commando just to go and look for her.

“Did you—”

He chuckled, and she felt the vibrations throughout her body. “Da,” he replied, almost even proud of it.

She whimpered when he went back to kitten-licking her. Her glutes contracted and her thighs trembled, her pussy still sensitive and pulsing in the aftermath of her orgasm.

“You make the cutest sounds,” he continued after a while, one of his fingers tracing her opening before he licked her again, his tongue flattening against her. “I could spend the rest of my days right in this position.”

Feedback is always welcome if you want to drop old me a line 💛

Original pic used: https://www.pexels.com/photo/white-clouds-and-blue-sky-4870972/

TAGS (to be added to or to be removed from any list, shoot me an ASK)

Everything: @idhrenniel @saibh29 @fuckthatfeeling @aya-fay @pebblesz892  @mblaqgi​ @becs-bunker

[hanawrites404]

Journey

@oc-growth-and-development

(trigger warning : smoking, mention of death)

Another day, another restorative morning, as if nothing else can motivate me enough to finally cut my laze and start the new day already.

I got off my bed and my eyes instinctively gazed out the window beside me at the wall. As usual, there wasn't much outside, just the same trees and lawns you would find in any other neighbourhood, yet I never seem to get tired of looking at them over and over every time I wake up. It was like a part of my everyday morning ritual which I definitely shouldn't miss, and honestly, I was fine with it. I was not the type of person to actively look for spices in my life after all, and even if I start to crave for it someday, I just wait for it to come to me.

Otherwise, everything just gotta be restful, that's all I want, to be honest.

The water was pleasantly chill to bathe in, too, and so was the dawn's sea breeze swishing through the balcony as soon as the curtains were tucked out and the windows were pulled open. If anything warm right now, it was the brisk sun and the brimming cup of steaming café au lait thawing my bare arms and fingers as I stepped out to lean onto the grill of my terrace. My feet were bare as well, touching the cool tiles beneath them as I felt the tingling sensation through my nerves.

I was still in my pyjamas, my hair up in a bun and it was still seven. Other than some elder citizens walking outside to get the minty air rushing and stray cats and dogs yawning and stretching, the scene in front of me was almost deserted.

It all felt quiet, but it wasn't prickly. The birds were still tweeting, the bulk of leaves rustled in a shimmer, and I could even hear my sigh as I blew the hot vapour from my cup, my lips slowly savouring the coffee bit by bit. It was very peaceful, I liked it.

But unfortunately, it wasn't real.

"미스......미스.....일어나 미스!"

I jolted up from the unfamiliar voice presumably calling out for me. So it was all a dream? I wasn't enjoying a utopian morning at my balcony back in Miami?? But it all felt so real....from the taste of coffee to the warmth I felt of the drink. So it was all my imagination? Wow huh....looks like the power of my mind is going to be a mystery to me for a while. I never knew that my brain could fool me into believing that I was relaxing at my home, and not dozing off in a Korean tourist bus.

"Ugghmm...Huh?" Still groggy from my sleep, I blinked twice before looking outside the window of the bus. By the look of it, I think we had come to the final stop. Before letting out anything else from my mouth, I silently turned my gaze onto the one who broke my slumber, namely the bus conductor.

He is looking right at me. Come on, say something....!!

"U-Ummm...." I stumbled, my index slowly moving to point at the complex the bus had stopped near at.

"역???" I cringed as I tried to pronounce the exotic word. Fuck. I didn't expect my voice to crack right in front of the bus conductor. And before anyone raises a question, no. I don't know Korean. I just happened to memorize only the important words I might need to communicate during my journey to Korea. But while I was still at home I felt pretty confident in myself, what happened to me now? It wasn't unusual of me, I am a human after all and I get nervous at times too. Yet it was.... surprising.

Hmm...it must be the anxiety of being in an alien country where everything is different from what I am aware of and what I have experienced so far. Different ambience, different language, and different people. Very strange and foreign, to be frank. But fresh and young, like a bite of a ripe green apple.

Nevertheless, the conductor just laughed at me and patted my shoulder very strongly. Ouch but Woah, now I could see why he was hired as the conductor. Strong arms, sharp eyes, along with a charm of his own to make people at ease. Even to a 'lost' newcomer like me.

"Yes yes! 역! Correct! Wanna come out??" With a grin twinkling on his bright face, he stepped away to let me through. I felt more relaxed than before as soon as I heard English from him, and it was pretty fluent too.

A small relieved smile broke on my lips too as I grab hold of my guitar case and my backpack and get up. My legs had gotten a bit numb inside my boots from not moving them much throughout the ride, and my jacket was almost off my shoulders.

"감사합니다" I quickly muttered before adjusting everything on me and stepping out of the bus. I didn't want to stammer again and, even if I wasn't in a hurry, I still wanted to make sure I reach where I was called to at an early hand.

"Have a safe journey!" The conductor waved at me, and I gladly turned around to return the gesture before entering the lobby. After I had made it inside, I left my belongings at a convenient place and went to the bathroom to fix my face and clothes.

I had been travelling for almost twenty hours; An eighteen-hour flight and a two-hour bus. It was back-to-back, and hardly I had the time to refresh myself properly and smoke a bit, but now was my chance to do so before I carry on to reach my destination.

With the help of the large mirror on the wall, I first removed my contact lenses and then washed my face and combed my hair. It had grown pretty long. But I wasn't planning on cutting them any sooner. I also dusted my jacket and jeans off and straightened my t-shirt inside.

After I was sure everything had been set, I put my lenses back on and vaguely looked around the room, and finding no one except me, I quickly stand near the ventilator above me and light my cigarette. What I was doing right now poses a threat to my health and is illegal, but this was a guilty pleasure of mine. I admit it shamelessly because why not. I have nothing to lose. We all are gonna die one day, so it's better we make the most of our lives and I was just doing that. Nothing more, nothing less.

Just because I said I don't seek adventure vigorously, does not mean I don't have any thrill in my life at all. I do have it. Everyone has it. You just gotta make it interesting in your way, and that's how you gotta roll, champ.

Anyways, after a couple of puffs, I got disposed of the cigar and shooed off the smoke around me. It was only after everything seemed clear that I washed my life hands and dried them, then left the restroom and grabbed my luggage back before I started to stride again, to the reception counter.

After all the formalities were taken care of, I finally breathed the outside air of Korean afternoon. The sun was luminous and overhead, but the heat wasn't as severe as back in Miami. The number of clouds here are much more than there, or was it just for this particular day? I had no idea.

I am not a tourist here. I came here for a business trip, you can say. A man from here, a freelancing musical artist, had personally requested and invited me for a musical collaboration. The deal itself sounded quite intriguing, also with the fact that I'm half-Korean thanks to my father's lineage, yet ironically I have neither ever seen Korea with my own eyes nor I have witnessed its culture. Until today, that is.

So here I am now, strolling in the middle of the bustling city surrounded by college students touring around, laughing and talking with their classmates and munching on unique dishes and snacks I had never seen before. And while I was busy observing them, someone bumped into me, breaking my contact.

"Oh! 실례합니다!" It was a young blond guy, wearing a light blue hoodie with a couple of smiley badges pinned to his chest. He quickly bowed after apologizing and for briefly taking a glance at my face, hastily trots in the opposite direction. I eyed him, judging by his clothes and the books he was carrying in his arms, he looked like a college student. Hmm...no wonder why he was in a hurry. He must be late to class or something.

But anyway, I continued walking. That musical man had told me to wait near the back alley of a coffee shop that was close to the station. Hmm, that would be easy to locate. The coffee shop was right in front of me! Hah, how easy.

And so, without wasting any time, I ambled towards the cafè. It was a cute little shop, in my opinion. The smell of roasted coffee beans and bubbling creamy milk was evident in the atmosphere, and the colour scheme of the shop had pallettes of vanilla and caramel. It was like I had entered not a shop but inside a nestling coffee cup! Pretty cool, especially for someone who loves coffee like me.

Also, a bunch of customers were inside too. This place was not lonely at all. Some couples were on a date, singles who just want peace of mind with a complimentary cup of coffee, and business workers too! To be honest, I liked one of the employee's suits too. It was of a short brunette woman with glasses. She was kind of cute too. And by how she was still typing away rapidly on her phone even while on her break, tells how much of a busy woman she must be. Damn, God forbid that I ever be this much busy in my career.

Working even at breaks. Scary, in my opinion.

Needless to say, that wasn't why I was here for. The city was new to me so naturally, I would be curious, but business comes first in such a case. And in this case, it's my case. So bringing myself back to schedule, I leave to the back alley, waiting for that man so we could finally meet after talking through emails and phone calls.

But......what was that man's name again?

Ah....Zen.....

Hmm, weird name. But as someone who prefers to be called CJ than Catherine Joseph, I am no one to say so. Or even judge so.

Zen......I wonder what kind of person he would be in flesh. Same friendly and confident as the impression of him in my mind? Or just some different personality I never saw coming? Well, only time will tell that. But right now, we wait.

[8unnieswrld]

5 more minutes (Johnny Suh x Reader)

Word count: 1.8k

Requests: “Kiss me again” + “lol why u so short?”

Warnings: none shit is so cute

A/N: im literally so stupid i posted this but messed up in structure so i deleted it and took a week to redo it

You could feel a soft vibration coming from under your back as it shocks you from your sleep. The noise causes your heart to race as you roll over to reach for your phone. You couldn't even possibly begin to think who would be calling you, first thing in the morning. Nevertheless, silently cursing at them while thrashing your legs about angrily.

“Hello?” You grumble, head thumping as you roll over, placing your phone to your ear as you close your eyes once again.

“Y/N where are you? It's been 30 minutes and I-” You heard your boyfriend speak from the other side of the line, the background buzzing with chatter and laughter. Going silent you realise what Johnny was talking about.

You almost screamed at yourself when your eyes shot open, checking the time on your phone. You felt like you could just about kick yourself in the face right now as the large numbers stare you in the face.

11:30am

The ‘punch in the gut’ numbers haunt you as you roll out of bed running towards the bathroom, as best you could.

“Ha ha ha ha ha, the bus was late! Just uh- Let everyone eat first!” You laugh awkwardly. Tumbling into the bathroom, you flinch as the cold tiles touch your warm feet.

“You just woke up, didn't you?” Johnny sighs, chuckling a bit.

“I'm sorry! I set my alarm for 9:30 p.m. instead of a.m.! Tell the boys to start eating and i'll just order later!” You apologize while turning the faucet on the highest setting due to sheer panic, the abrupt action causing water to splash onto your phone, muffling Johnny’s laughter.

“It’s okay, I could have come and picked you up if you weren't so stubborn. I’ll come pick-” Johnny suggested before you cut him off, yelling.

“No! Babe, please eat first!”

You hear Johnny excuse himself from his bandmates at the table, explaining to them why he was leaving momentarily, causing them to all laugh and coo at you through the phone.

“I'll see you in a bit babe~” Johnny sings, before making kissy noises to the phone and hanging up.

Fuck.

You could not even believe the sheer idiocracy that you felt wrapping around your body as you stared into the mirror, a reflection haunting you.

“You’re so fucking stupid Y/N, you know?” You groan, smacking yourself on the head before violently turning on the faucet, yet again. Brushing your teeth and washing your face felt like a blip as you were running out of the bathroom, immediately towards your ‘I like to keep them in view because they’re pretty’ clothes rack to look for an outfit. Instinctively, you pause for a second to play music before picking your outfit. One that’s comfy enough to wear for a brunch but not too restraining on the stomach. As you were changing in your room you hear Johnny’s car pull up from outside, honking as if he wanted you to be dressed and ready to go when he arrived. You choose to ignore his signal, telling yourself that no one in their right mind could get ready that quickly. Pulling a dress over your head, you hear Johnny begin honking impatiently.

“Fucking hell.” You mumble, frustrated as you stomp towards the window, pulling it open to yell at him at the top of your lungs.

“I'M NOT READY!��� You scream, poking your head out of the window slightly. Johnny laughs at this, amused as if you weren't almost an hour late to his best friend's insane engagement brunch. You reach behind your back, struggling to pull up the dress’ zipper. Fast paced footsteps carrying you to the mirror, rapidly spinning to see any potential issue. The sound of the front door closing causes you to flinch, even though you knew it was Johnny. You jiggle the zipper even faster trying to get it up before he walks in. You didn't even know why you wanted the dress up so quickly before he walked in, it's not like he had never seen you naked before, but right now you felt embarrassed and didn't even want to hear a word of it from Johnny. Frustrated, you scream in anger throwing yourself onto the floor in defeat while the non-compliant dress bundles at your feet. Johnny rushes towards your bedroom at the sound of the scream, quickly throwing the door open out of worry. The sight of you sitting in the middle of your room, pink silk dress bundled around you, hair messed up and half wet from washing your face, quickly dismisses his worried thoughts. Johnny could feel his heart soften, cherishing this simple moment in his mind as he smiles, walking over to you before placing you on your feet and zipping up the back of your dress.

Johnny’s hands felt cold on your warm flushed skin, hot from a mixture of anger, embarrassment and adrenaline. You look at him through the mirror, silently staring at him as he brushes your hair, not saying a single word. You had expected him to come in, laughing at you for setting your alarm wrong but I guess he could read your utter distress enough for him to stay silent, understanding. With one swift movement you turn around, hooking your arms around his torso, leaning into him with your face squished against his chest.

“Y/N it’s alright, no one is going to care.” Johnny comforted, stroking your head. You didn't reply, only getting up to walk towards your vanity which held all your makeup. Johnny opens your closet, grabbing a cardigan and an undershirt knowing how cruel the cold weather was to your health. He sits on the edge of your bed, close enough to feel heat radiate from you as he watches you apply makeup to your face. He decides to braid a strand of your hair to pass the time. One strand multiplied into two which then turned into 3. Johnny shuffles a bit, the fabric of his puffer jacket chafing together and creating sounds that faded into the music that continued to play. He pulls out his phone, sneakily taking a picture of you.

“Alright, I'm finished!” You announced, getting up from your seat to turn and look at your boyfriend. He smiles at you before handing you a black turtleneck to wear under your dress.

“You’ll get sick if you don't wear this.”

You roll your eyes, turning around as Johnny unzips your dress. Once you have shifted the straps of your dress off of your arms, Johnny places the turtleneck over your head, allowing you to pull it down and tuck it inside the dress before flattening out the layered material.

“Let's take a picture, we’re matching!” You laugh, finally paying attention to his outfit. Johnny was wearing a dusty pink button up shirt layered with a similar black turtleneck and a jacket. His outfit made you smile, realising that you had both unintentionally coordinated your outfits without communication. You stood in front of your wardrobe mirror, pulling out your phone as you pose awkwardly before Johnny stands next to you. His calming presence causes you to become more relaxed as you pose with him. You both took a couple photos, before you began to pose playfully with one another, completely unaware of the passing time. Johnny picks you up slightly which causes you to laugh as he takes more pictures. You cup his face in your hands as you giggle, staring at him full of love, quickly giving him an unexpected kiss. Johnny drops his phone, eyes wide as you smile, placing a kiss on his lips. He goes in for another before your eyes widen, seeing the time on the wall staring back at you like it had moments before on your phone.

“Johnny! Put me down we’re so late!” You squeal, kicking as you slide yourself off him, grabbing your belongings and his car keys. Johnny feels frustration build up in his chest as he whines playfully. He pulls you towards him once more as he huffs sitting down on your bed, kicking his feet like a child.

“Kiss me again Y/NNNNN~” Johnny whines, looking you in the eyes as he kicks his feet even more.

“Johnny we gotta go, we’re already so late.”

He pouts, eyebrows furrowing as he refuses to move, crossing his arms and puckering his lips. “Kisses. Now.” He demands, keeping up his childish demeanor.

You sigh, rubbing your temples as you move towards him, causing him to happily stand up and pucker his lips again, eyes closed and all.

A frown creeps onto your face. Who in the world would be unable to remember the difference in height between you two?

“Johnny... I literally cannot reach.” You announce, pushing his shoulders down as he laughs.

“Lol, why you so short?” He teases, causing you to hit his chest playfully to which he responded overdramatically by gripping his heart in “pain.” Apologizing, he bends down a bit till his face is just above eye level with you.

“Come on, I'm waiting~” He sings happily moving his body from side to side. You sigh, rolling your eyes playfully as you cup his face giving him repetitive pecks on the lips. He smiles into the kisses grabbing you by the waist as he pulls you both down, falling on the bed with a physical ‘oomf’. You laugh, but quickly turn to scold him for the sudden action.

“Johnny, we are literally so late! Jaehyun is going to be so upset!” You squeal, pushing his chest in an attempt to get up. Johnny barely moves, only nuzzling his head on top of yours. After repeatedly trying to escape and failing you sigh. Giving into his cuddling, you wrap your arms around his torso.

“Just 5 minutes Y/N. I barely see you.” He pleads, a more serious tone escaping his lips.

You bite your lip in guilt as you knew how far you and Johnny lived apart from one another, due to the fact you both attended different universities.

“Fine…” You mumble, placing a kiss onto his neck, the only place you could reach due to Johnny’s sheer strength and height. Laying in silence you could hear Johnny’s steadying heart beat rhythmically in your ear as you traced circles on his back. The silence was soon interrupted with Johnny’s phone ringing, sending waves of vibration over the entire bed. Johnny picks it up, placing it on his ear as he rolls over again to continue hugging you.

“Hyung! Where the fuck are you?” You could hear Mark question over the phone. Johnny and you both stay silent, looking at each other, desperately searching for a reply.

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

“Uh! Sorry Mark- Traffic’s real bad right now!” You panicked, getting up from the bed while silently motioning Johnny to do the same.

“Damn, the traffic’s that bad right now?” Mark laughs, causing you to facepalm in disbelief that he really believed the lie. “Alright...See you soon!” He greets before hanging up the phone.

“He is so stupid.”

[softly-savage-mint-yoongi]

Allotrope pt. 6

Genre: Idolverse Pairing: Kim Junmyeon (Suho) x reader Warnings: Fluffy memories and happiness. Explicit sex of various types. Dominant roleplay. Slight mentions of three-way. X-EXO Suho has wrecked me beyond my own grave thanks. prev. / next Words: 11k.

Illuminating your lockscreen, the face that stares back at you is hauntingly beautiful. A face you know well, but the cerulean of his eyes contrasts excitingly with the shock of red hair on his head as he wears a devilish smirk. You turn your phone face down in your lap, trying to quell the excitement in your bones as you wait patiently for your cab to arrive at the location Sehun sent to you. He seemed to be quite fond of you now that your relationship is legitimate and he knows you well enough to tell you aren’t just fucking with his closest brother. ‘You should come to the MV shoot. Manager said you could’ he had texted you last night. You’d wanted to scold him for asking you to come at the very last moment, less than 24 hours before, but refrained because at least he asked you to come at all. ‘Don’t tell hyung’ came a second text. ‘It will be a nice surprise’ he had followed up in a series of messages with thumbs up and secret emojis. You haven’t been able to see your boyfriend for several weeks. Only messages and video calls were smattered between your hectic lives as often as time would allow you both. This relationship has not been easy necessarily, but the work you and Junmyeon have both put forth in effort has not gone unnoticed by the other, or those around you. You bicker from time to time, but not over anything serious. Mostly about what to order for dinner or characters in books you’re both reading or movies you’re watching together. It’s the distance at times and the lingering sense of isolation or loneliness you feel when you can’t see each other for weeks and video-chats are a weak solace to soothe the ache. It was worse at first- attempting to get used to the come and go of his chaotic schedules before your own replaced the free time. You’ll admit the severity lagged when you went back to school, less idle than before. This late in the year, you’re halfway finished with the current semester, and Junmyeon is close to releasing their latest album, ‘Obsession’ with the rest of the group. You hope that all of the time you’ve been unable to be together has grown sweet fruit for you both. He did share a lot of selfies with you, featuring his new red hair which he happily told you he really likes. In his words, he said it makes him feel rebellious. You can’t say you dislike the color on him, especially when it is styled into the horns of his painfully hot doppelganger of X-EXO, but you prefer him in his natural state, all fluffy and unstyled dark hair. The teaser images he sent to your phone last week had come with a warning ‘For Y/N’s eyes only!’ via text with lots of cute sound words. You had to cover your mouth to prevent your soft gasp from escaping into even the quiet of the library. You bent yourself over suspiciously, shielding your screen as you memorized the images. Bouncing your leg in the back of the cab, thoughts of Junmyeon continue to permeate your consciousness, and you let them without feeling sad or lonely. You’ll finally get to hold him today, so you replay your favorite memories in your head with a fondness that makes your heart flutter. You recall the middle of July, when the Summer heat was at its peak and you had a video call with him from the roof of your apartment building. You had explained your fascination with the magic of the balmy summer night sky and the light show that danced above your head with a giddy happiness. You know he was barely able to see your face or the stars from the screen, but it was something. Three days later, immediately after the release party for Chanyeol and Sehun’s unit album, Junmyeon had taken you to a restaurant with rooftop dining. He had reserved the entire space so you could enjoy the night sky like that with him, in person this time. Properly, he had reasoned. You hardly remember the meal, but you smile fondly as you conjure the memory of his face. The soft glow of tall white taper candles illuminating his cheeks and lips and that reflected the stars in his own eyes. You cover your mouth at your own sappiness, but it’s the truth. Trying his best to be as romantic and cheesy as possible, he’d brought you to the center of the roof and hummed a tune at first, that eventually turned to singing quietly to you while he twirled you around slowly. Swaying in time to the tempo he kept, smiling like idiots every time your eyes met while he held your hand in one of his, the other at your waist. Vaguely, you remember you were wearing shorts and a t-shirt. He was, too. Casual to match your level of comfort. You laugh to yourself and catch the eyes of the driver in the rearview mirror when you remember the embarrassment of your attire for such an occasion once you realized what was going on. Sweetly, Junmyeon was right beside you, holding your hand and telling you it didn’t matter because he liked you best when you were relaxed. That night you remember falling asleep with your head on his chest, listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat as he hummed contentedly and drifted off. Another memory pops into your head from the following month. In your apartment when he wanted to try cooking with you. You were aware he was not ever one to cook, and you couldn’t say you were greatly skilled at any of the meals you’d ever made. Eventually, after many, many tweaks to the recipe and ditching it in the trash altogether once, you had managed to make something not just edible, but good. Perhaps the ambition to try a new recipe was at fault for the chaos in your kitchen. You had eaten quickly, ignoring the mess of ingredients everywhere. Certain there was rice in your hair, you snuck a peek at Junmyeon, who had a smear of flour across one eyebrow and his forehead. The shock that made his eyes sparkle with delight when he realized it was good is something you’ll never forget. He was so proud, tucking a giant smirk into the corner of his lips so he could chew properly as he said the word. The fondness that fills your chest with warmth and fuzziness remembering the time spent together cooking it is sweeter and more satisfying than any meal could ever be. The laughter and the way Junmyeon smiled at you in triumph when you succeeded with the second attempt. The joke he made about the two of you hosting a MasterClass on cooking. You worked together to clean up to an acceptable standard before he whisked you away for a shower and claims of being hungry for dessert. In September, you’d purchased tickets to surprise him with, going to a new interactive set of exhibits at a gallery in the city, although the weather didn’t turn out to be very nice. Happily walking side by side through each piece or stopping to take some pictures of each other at a few. The final exhibit was a large display involving lights and mirrors. You were walking through it giggling to yourself until the gloomy day turned into a storm that knocked the power out. You had been able to see most of the exhibits, so neither of you were upset that you suddenly had to leave and go back to your apartment. Thankfully, you always kept a micro umbrella in your purse. As it turns out, umbrellas that small are not meant for two. You both got wet, huddling under the small protection you had and laughing until your cheeks hurt, but at least you had anything at all to cover your heads. Just after arriving and unlocking your door, Junmyeon became extremely playful. Much the entertainer, he dragged you up onto the roof to enjoy the warm rain after you ditched your things inside. Your clothes were already dripping with rainwater. It came down heavily, soaking your hair and face. You had laughed, barely able to keep your eyes open as it poured over you. That was when he had kissed you. Taking your cheeks in both of his hands, he had pulled you against him and kissed the droplets from your lips until you could hear your heart beating louder than the rain. Your lover had kissed you as if he were afraid he would melt and the feel of your body against him was the only tether to the moment. He’d kissed you until you felt soaked through from more than just rain. Your boyfriend said nothing but carefully walked you back down the emergency stairs and into your apartment and straight into your living room, flinging sopping wet shirts and pants across the floor with wet slaps against the kitchen tile, desperate to keep his lips on yours. He still kissed you, slowly and deeply, even after he had laced your fingers together and pressed your back into the cushions of your couch.

You remember his tenderness and the way he had made love to you. The way he kept his forehead pressed against yours, and every drop of rain that fell from his hair onto your skin was kissed away by the fullness of his lips. The way the rain beating against the windowpanes painted his skin in moving watercolor hues of muted gray blue. The deep and slow strokes of his length along your walls, making you both feel every inch of one another, softly in a way that still satisfied the need to reach completion together.

You remember quietly listening to the sound of the storm as you stood naked in the middle of your living room, caressing towels over one another and the gentle press of your lips to his as you fluffed his hair.

You recall the power was out all night, and Junmyeon choosing to light some candles and read a book he was almost halfway finished. You begged him to read some aloud to you as you made a pillow out of his thigh, much to his initial refusal. The topic was something philosophical but not boring, and you had fallen asleep to the feel of his warm and comforting skin and the sound of his soothing voice within minutes.

Just last month in October, during your first week of exams, he had surprised you with flowers. Knowing it was your first day of the brutal and long testing periods, you had come home with a stale but free end-of-day bagel protruding from between your lips from your favorite shop across the street from your apartment. You found a large bouquet of your favorite flowers in a vase on the kitchen island. A box of your favorite chocolate sat beside it with a card.

‘Sweetheart, I hope these will make you smile after your first day of exams. You’ve worked so hard and I’m really proud of you. So cheer up and keep fighting! I want to see you soon… ;^; PS don’t worry I didn’t break in. I asked Soohyun to deliver these. xoxo J.’

The gifts were wholly appreciated and sweet, but the fact that he had to ask Soohyun for help made you feel a little bit bad for both of them. The idea of giving him a key is one you had entertained before- especially when he needed some time to himself. Junmyeon knows he is welcome even if you’re not home.

You remember when it dawned on you randomly, going around your apartment and smiling, suddenly wondering when the second toothbrush showed up in the cup on the sink. Or when the shoe rack in your closet began to house pairs of men’s sneakers or slides beside your own. Or when a pair of reading glasses that aren’t yours showed up on the nightstand opposite yours beside the bed, sitting atop a book with a marker jutting from the top halfway through its pages which you’ve never read, along with a copy of a script for a play he was starring in soon. Or when the roller of men’s deodorant showed up on your vanity beside your own.

In that moment, the natural progression of your relationship with him made your chest swell with pride, easing some of your fears. You had asked Soohyun for his opinion before you committed to it. When the question popped out, you were met with honest but sincere acceptance. It felt like crossing a line or taking that next step. The notion made you feel nervous and turbulent, but Soohyun’s trust and guidance was something you knew you could rely on. It wasn’t as if he was moving in completely.

You had given the key to Junmyeon the week before the SM Halloween Party, nonchalantly and casually pulling it from your bag with a cute rabbit keychain. You dropped it into his palm just as you were leaving their dorm after helping some of the boys with their costumes, making last minute adjustments.

You wanted to tell him he didn’t have to use it if he didn’t want to or if it felt weird, but that you wanted him to have it sincerely. Instead, nervously you said nothing at all and made a beeline for the door, quickly making an exit before he could respond, fanning the flames on your cheeks as you left.

Junmyeon had been faster, catching you before you could make your way too far down the hall on their floor and spinning you into his frame with happiness.

Several times he had taken you up on the offer just to get some peace. His manager always knew where he was, and you have come home from work to find him there multiple times. Once, you recall with a laugh, cutely sitting in the middle of your couch with a notebook in front of him and his hair clearly mused from running his hand through it, scribbling lyrics for the solo album he has been working on from time to time.

Another day he was pacing back and forth in the living room with his script in hand for the play he was starring in. He asked you to help him with a scene or two after you took a shower and ordered takeout.

Your favorite instance of finding him in your home was a late night after a long and boring lecture and an even longer shift immediately after. Tired and frustrated and you believed with red wine in your hair from an incident involving another server, all you wanted was to take a hot shower and go to sleep.

You didn’t know he was there at first, too focused on tossing your bag down on the couch and turning the knob down until it couldn’t go any hotter in the shower. Walking into your room with a towel wrapped around your body, you’d found your bedspread a heap of mess and a head of fluffy black hair peeking out from the top.

The sight of him so content in your bed, even without you, eased any remaining stress your shower couldn’t burn out of your weary bones. He stirred briefly when you swept some of his bangs out of his eyes, brows furrowing and his bottom lip, much fuller and more prominent than his top, pushing into an easy pout. He groaned only once when you had pressed your lips to his cheek before dressing and sliding under the covers on your side.

After you’d settled and your eyes closed, you heard him move. Before sweet sleep could take you, he had found you in his own sleep, curling his arm into the crook of your waist to press your back to his chest. Faintly, you remember his lips finding the back of your neck as you both fell asleep.

The memory of Halloween comes next, constricting your chest in a mix of emotions. The SM Halloween Party. The only event you could safely be invited to attend to keep your relationship private. However, the one place that made you feel extremely self-conscious.

You would meet many pairs of eyes, from company managers and executives to other idols who knew Junmyeon better than you. The thought of their disapproving eyes upon you made you pace in front of your mirror. Junmyeon was due to arrive any moment, and the feel of your costume against your skin didn’t feel right.

When he entered, wearing his fangs and cape and looking every bit as handsome as you knew he truly was, he frowned at you. At the way you had chewed your lip swollen and the frantic, unsettling looking in your eyes as you grabbed at the parts of yourself you disliked most in the mirror, pinching at your skin through the costume.

He'd stepped behind you, holding you still by your hips and asking what was wrong. When you had told him, you remember the look in his eyes when his gaze met yours in the mirror. The way his face softened for you and he kissed gently at the back and sides of your neck. You remember, with a grin, the way he bit playfully at your skin with the plastic teeth over his own while his big brown eyes looked at you with so much ardor you couldn’t watch for long.

Goosebumps light your skin there in the cab, remembering with a shudder the way he made you believe that you were beautiful, telling you to remember than confidence is sexy and validating your right to think so about yourself.

The way he made you feel what you do to him and the way he coaxed you to your bed, stripping you both of your costumes. The way he finally, at long last, made you believe there was nothing to be worried about when you clutched your headboard with both hands and let him lie beneath your spread thighs.

He comforted your skin with his palms, soothing over the muscles in a loving manner until he needed you closer, digging his fingertips into the flesh to pull you down against him. All while his tongue licked every drop of your anxiety from you with a delightful groan.

You sat, riding the pleasure as your worry melted into his mouth like liquid candy. The way you were convinced by his body tells, transfixed with your head twisted back to watch his own pleasure seeping down the sides of his cock, sitting red and swollen and jumping with every sound you made. The way his abdomen was tight, his hips struggling to remain still.

The way, when you reached back to touch him, he denied you. When you lifted your core from his mouth for a moment to protest, the growl of your name he emitted was nearly your undoing. He told you, voice dangerously low, that if you touched him at all he would explode.

The way, moments later when you screamed his name and shuddered above him, his own body twitched in euphoric bliss as he lost control and the proof of his need for you dripped heavily from his twitching length to pool on his abdomen.

The way he beamed with pride while he held your hand tightly in his when you entered the party an hour late and received the first wave of watchful and curious eyes. That night, there were no eyes meeting yours that made you feel inferior. Only smiles and laughter and new friendships were formed.

You’re jostled from the memories when the car pulls onto a graveled surface. Outside the window, you watch the tires kick up dust until the car smoothly glides to a stop in front of a large building that resembles a warehouse. The last rays of the sun pushing through twilight are casting a beautiful array of colors across the sky.

Giving the driver your thanks, you step out to the greeting wave of Junmyeon’s Manager holding open a door. “Thank you for letting me watch,” you bow.

He smiles at you, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a finger, “You’re welcome. It’s nice to see you again, have you been well?” You smile at him in return, falling into step beside him where he guides you.

Your heart begins thumping in your chest deeply as if it only comes to life in the vicinity of your lover. “I’ve been busy, but fine thank you.”, you reply.

Rounding a corner and through another door, you are met with a wide expanse of space. Cameras and lights and sound equipment of all sorts are set up on various small stages, miniature sets of rooms for certain scenes within the video you assume.

A row of chairs and mirrors lines a wall beside you, and an assortment of sporting-goods brands duffle bags and sneakers, hats and sweatshirts are piled beside each one. Makeup kits and cosmetics, combs and cans of hairspray are organized atop each of the tables beside each mirror.

“Oh! Look who decided to show up,” hollers a familiar voice. Your head follows the sound of it to see Baekhyun swinging his arms as he approaches you. He looks handsome with his shock of white hair, and mysterious with the delicate silver chain draped over his nose and cheeks.

You smile at him, covering your mouth at the sight of his appearance, dressed as his evil doppelganger, “You look awesome.”

He grins at you cheekily and lifts his brows coquettishly, “Thank you.”

“We’re almost finished for today, but I’m glad you could come. We weren’t sure if you would be able to.”, he comments.

Nodding, you look around the sets for the rest of them. You can’t see them, but you can hear laughter around the side of one of the walls, “Yeah, I’m glad too.”

Baekhyun pauses his stride as he passes you, beckoning you after him. Looking to Junmyeon’s Manager, he motions for you to follow the idol. “He has no idea you’re here,” Baekhyun says with mischief in his tone.

Rounding the corner, your eyes find the other men standing in a loose circle on one of the sets, laughing. Baekhyun extends his arms wide while approaching, “Yah look who I found!”

They catch his comment, heads turning and multi-colored eyes lifting at different moments within the same two seconds to see who is beside him. They are all dressed in mostly-leather costumes, colored in pairs that match in some way. Reds, yellows and blacks. You hold your breath, watching the expression that morphs on Junmyeon’s face.

His brows rise toward his red hairline in shock before they fall back down and knit in confusion accompanied by his pouted lips. Immediately after, he smiles fully. Your favorite slight-box grin that makes the apples of his cheeks rise high and makes his eyes curl into half-moons, crinkling at the corners. It completely diminishes any traces of the danger his other half is portrayed to possess.

You watch him, almost in slow motion as he moves toward you in long strides. The flaming tips of his shoes pointed straight toward you until his arms extend and he crushes you to him, folding your body against his chest with both arms.

Laughing, you let him hug you, enjoying the brief moment of physical contact before a Manager tells them all the break is over. Just before he must let you go; you pick up the familiar scent of his deodorant. The thought that it is comforting makes you stifle another laugh.

Quietly standing beside their manager, you watch the rest of tonight’s shoot go by in a flurry of movement. You watch Chanyeol brag about being the only member flexible enough for the intro center of the choreography, only to complain about the soreness in his groin after.

You laugh when Jongdae nearly sends the chess table prop crashing to the ground as he leans a palm against it during the last powerful chorus every single time they run through it.  He shouts his frustration in a whine each time a quiet wave of laughter moves through the crew from it. Your attention is rapt on Junmyeon as they repeat the dance over and over, looking every bit as powerful and dangerous as his X-EXO counterpart is meant to be.

They’re all doing their best not to move too much or look too winded or tired. Their breaths are measured where they stand in the middle of the set resembling an abandoned parking garage. The white flicker of the light in the back of the space doesn’t quite penetrate the depth of darkness surrounding the idols, but you can still clearly see Junmyeon’s eyes staring at you from his position on the right.

The moment the director calls cut they drop to the floor or lean on their knees or one another, panting for breath. The crew surrounding the set begins to clap, voicing praise for the job well done today.

You wait patiently, not quite sure what to do with yourself and feeling a bit out of place as you stand there awkwardly playing with your hands. Junmyeon finds you a moment later, hastily swallowing large mouthfuls of water from a bottle. He drinks the entirety of one while his eyes look down at you before twisting the cap from another and raising it to his lips.

He relents, offering you the remaining half after he’s had his fill. You smile at him, taking the bottle from his fingers. Sweat shines on his forehead, neck and chest. “You worked hard today,” you grin up at him.

Junmyeon smiles, wiping at the corner of his mouth and taking your hand in his, “Thank you.”

He leads you away from the bustling set full of crew, managers and idols for just a moment’s worth of privacy. You wrap your arms around his torso, resting your chin on his sternum as you look up at him. He fusses briefly, protesting, “I’m sweaty and gross.”

You laugh, squeezing the balmy warmth of him tighter, “I don’t care. I’ve missed you.”

He smiles, lighting up for you and breaking free just so he can dip low enough to capture your lips in a lingering kiss. Even the simple pressing of his mouth against yours sends shivers down your spine. The feel of his palms are warm against your neck and cheek as he steals one, two more quick pecks.

Too quickly you feel the heat of blood rushing to your cheeks and your heart hammering so fast in your chest you have to step away to catch your breath.

He laughs, grinning, “Did you miss me that badly?” His fingers reach for you again, pulling you back toward him.

“I did, but I’m blaming all of this for now,” you admit, gesturing to his entire frame.

He quirks a brow at you, licking his lips, “What about it?” Junmyeon knows exactly what you mean. He knows you’re absolutely weak for this look on him and that the entirety of X-EXO Suho makes you squeeze your thighs together and bite your lip.

“You know what I mean,” you suck the flesh of your bottom lip between your teeth, embarrassed by your physical response to his proximity.

A wolfish grin spreads across his face, dropping into the persona of his evil counterpart. The hand at your waist grips you tighter as the other raises your chin to look at him. He tilts his head, eyes narrowing until he whispers, “What are you thinking about?”

You struggle against him just a little, squirming in his strong hold, “Do I excite you?” He whispers the question, eyeing your lips as he rubs his thumb along the softness of it once you release it from your teeth.

Sehun’s voice drenches the moment in ice cold water, “Hyung, hurry up!” he whines from a distance.

You take a deep breath, released from Junmyeon’s firm hold as he sighs, instead taking your hand in his as he melts back into his usual self, smiling prettily at you with wide eyes that sparkle like the sun glinting off of pool water. You notice the tips of his ears are red but choose not to say anything about them, busying yourself with ordering an uber instead.

Much too quickly for your preference, the men you know and adore come to say goodbye one by one as they change back into their street clothes before leaving the set for the day. Of course, only Junmyeon puts his hands on you. He holds you until the last possible moment as the dot on your phone draws up to the building and it vibrates, alerting you that your ride is here.

________________________________________

Three weeks have passed since the music video shooting, but thankfully you’ve been able to see Junmyeon a few times. You’d been there to celebrate both the release of the new album and Chanyeol’s birthday, joining them in their dorm just after their live broadcast two days ago.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, remembering the loud complaints from the birthday boy himself when he came knocking on Junmyeon’s door telling you both what he wants for his birthday from you. Silence, so he doesn’t have to drown out the sounds of pleasure seeping through the door or leave the dorms altogether.

Today, Junmyeon, nor any of the boys for that matter, have any idea you’re here. It’s all thanks to his Manager, truthfully. He had given you special copies of the new album, one of each kind, all autographed. Additionally, his parcel had come with a lightstick that was already glittering with the name ‘SUHO’ down the shaft, and a ticket to their SM stage with a VIP pass.

Over the last several months, you’ve had snippets of conversation with all of their Managers, but Junmyeon’s in particular seems to have taken a liking to you the most. He has been the one to help you arrange time to see Junmyeon and who has accompanied you on a few dates with him, quietly admiring the way you’re growing together. Admittedly, his presence as a silent third wheel took some getting used to.

He has told you, on more than one occasion over a meal, how thankful he is to you for having come into Junmyeon’s life and for being supportive and understanding of his career and the difficulties that come with it. It has always ended with you thanking him in return for being supportive of your relationship and for being such a pillar of strength for Junmyeon.

The crew standing in the pit between the stage and the guardrail you’re crammed against seem to know who you are. A few of them you recognize as well. One woman holding a clipboard and a wearing a headset brightly smiles directly at you. One of their set directors, if you’re not mistaken.

The show begins with EXO themselves, all dressed in black and looking ready for a fight. You have a blast screaming the fan chant along with the song, raising your lightstick high and waving it around with the powerful music.

You don’t stop until the boys are standing still and panting, having snapped their necks for the final move of the choreography. The approach the front of the stage, sweeping their eyes over the sea of their beloved fans. You’re sure it’s probably difficult for them to see the faces of the fans with the bright stage lights shining down on them and drowning the crowd in darkness.

When they’ve finished waving, the lights dim and the idols in front of you light up with smiles and more vigorous, friendly waves all around, able to see faces and read signs in the undulating mass of cheering. You do the one thing you know will get you noticed.

You stand still.

Chanyeol notices you first after a few minutes, squatted down and waving with a head tilt at the crowd. He plays off his surprise well before he stands and turns back nonchalantly. Baekhyun comes after, grinning wide and barking a laugh.

None of the fans seem any wiser, and the anxiety you thought you would feel never swells in your throat. They’re so good at interacting with their fans that nobody has any clue what the easy smiles and laughter passed between you all mean.

Junmyeon appears to have been clued in on your presence, his eyes flicking to yours briefly to confirm you’re standing there pressed up against the railing, but he controls his expression into his typical smile. He doesn’t dare to express any greater form of glee toward you than anyone else.

A bit later, after their comments as EXO, they descend beneath the stage with waves and smiles, only to slip out from the wings of the stage minutes later.

This time, they’re not who they seem while they sing the same track, if only with a bit of an aggressive edge and intensity to their choreography and looks. They seem dangerous, smirking and cocky but ultimately enjoying every moment they get to spend as their alternate selves on stage.

This time, Junmyeon looks directly at you and rubs at his bottom lip as if he wants to reprimand someone. Fans around you erupt with squeals, confessions of love unable to be contained within their throats.

He takes his in-ear out and squats down near you, waving to fans and licking his lips. “He’s ridiculously hot as X-Suho, isn’t he?” one of the women beside you sighs dreamily, fanning herself.  You laugh with her, agreeing wholeheartedly.

His brow raises conspicuously as he stands back up and peers down at you with a wicked grin. You don’t think he heard you or the woman beside you, and it isn’t like he doesn’t know what this side of him does to you. You’ve confessed to him at least once how much this persona of his makes you sweat.

He takes six long strides to the other side of the stage to pay that end as much attention. Time passes slowly as you watch them entertain both the cameras and themselves as X-EXO. They laugh and sing and dance and play games. Before you realize what’s happened, he’s gone, along with most of the others. Only Sehun and Chanyeol are left on the stage, asking the fans if they like EXO or X-EXO more. They mock EXO, gently scolding fans with their disappointment when they tell the crowd to be consistent.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you peer at it to see a text from his Manager.

‘Go back out and follow the signs for VIP access.’ It reads.

You look up and around but can’t see much other than lightsticks illuminating a mass of darkness. It’s pretty, you think. Without much struggle, you maneuver your way back out of the crowd. It warms your heart, to think their fans are decent and considerate enough to move out of the way or ask if you’re alright as you leave. You don’t mention the VIP access, you don’t want a target on your back.

You’ve found the VIP area and find, sneakily, you’re the only one there. You wonder if you were the only person granted one. Their Manager walks through a door, smiling as he greets you and motions for you to follow.

Halfway down a long corridor behind the stage, Junmyeon comes into view, stalking toward you. He doesn’t say anything at all. He grins at his Manager, nodding, before he slips his hand into yours and pulls you further down the hall.

There is a pause in front of a closed door, where you nearly plant your nose directly into his shoulder when he stops. Junmyeon’s brows knit together and his eyes narrow. His mouth makes a shape similar to a loose ‘o’, a series of micro-expressions that together you’ve learned mean he is pensive but uncertain.

The bright blue of his eyes look sharply in each direction before he takes a deep breath and quickly shoves the door handle down and pulls you into the room before slamming it closed.

You’re barely able to note the color of the walls before he whirls on you, seeming menacing and troublesome. He still doesn’t say anything, watching the stillness of your frame and making you squirm under his gaze.

You don’t move. Instead, you’re fascinated by the role he plays. You use the moment to take a good look at him. The effect of the cut at the corner of his left cheekbone, the cerulean color of the contacts softly edged by dark shadow of burnt reds and browns. The slant of his brows and the shape of his hairline crested red and gelled into horns that don’t seem cliché, but rather, ridiculously good-looking on his head.

You feel the heat of his closeness, the warmth of his skin in the center of his exposed chest and abdomen. The color of his suit and his hair and the flames on the tips of his shoes calling him to become the opposite personification of his element. It doesn’t feel wrong though. Instead if feels dangerous and passionate and you don’t fight the way this color wraps itself around him and becomes something altogether sinfully good and unholy.

It makes you bite your lip, and the motion is not lost on him. His hand lifts to your neck. He slides his palm flat, fingers brushing your throat, up until he cups the tip of your chin and tilts your face up to his. “What are you thinking about?”, he asks quietly. You never did answer him at the video shoot.

“You,” comes your answer, whispered into the space between you.

“Me? Not Junmyeon?”, he asks curiously, wolfish as he steps closer into your space. You understand the game he’s playing and for once, you don’t want to bicker with him on it. The way he’s looking at you as if he intends to devour you makes excitement thrum in your veins like electricity.

“Answer me,” he bites, stirring you from your thoughts. The command in his tone sends a shiver down your spine.

“Yes, you,” the words come easily from your throat, thick with a potency for action between your bodies.

He smirks, tilting his head and leaning in to whisper, “I heard you earlier, by the way. What is it, I wonder, that excites you so much?”

You don’t answer again, much to his displeasure. “Being a bad girl today, are we angel?” he mocks. The sound of a new pet name falling from his lips sends heat to your cheeks instead, smiling at him.

“Oh?” he tuts, “I’ll have to fix that.”

This dangerous side of him steals the breath from your lungs with lips that send an inferno straight to your core. He bites at your lips, demanding entrance and groaning aloud when you acquiesce.

He kisses you hard, branding you with the searing heat of his lips as he repeats his desire for you over and over until you’re squeezing your thighs together with a moan. His fingers leave your neck, climbing higher into your hair and gently pulling a fist full of it back.

When he finds your eyes, you see an edge of uncertainty, a question swimming even in the artificial blue depths.

He swallows thickly, brushing saliva from the corner of his mouth with the back of one knuckle, “I won’t be gentle, angel. If you can’t handle it we have to stop here.” You appreciate his warning to make sure you’re okay with the game he wants to play.

He relents when your expression morphs into delighted eagerness, wanting to play just as badly. “I don’t want you to be gentle,” you breathe, trying to move your head, testing if he maintains his grip on your hair. You hum happily, finding that he does.

He smiles devilishly, using his strength to force your knees to the floor. Releasing you, he moves his hand to brush your hair from your eyes. Your own hands climb his thighs, softly pressing into his muscles through the fabric of his pants.

You look up to his face, watching him lean a palm against the wall. He smirks, raising his brows and letting his mouth drop open when your fingers smooth over the outline of his erection. He swallows, dropping his jeweled hand toward your mouth and extending two fingers, “Open.”

The words aren’t a suggestion, rather a demand. You comply immediately, feeling yourself grow slick as he presses the digits to your tongue with a hiss. He bites his lip, spreading them out to pet at your tongue. Raising his brows slightly in anticipation, you close your lips around them when the fingers connect once more.

Then, you hollow your cheeks and suck. Pulling out all your tricks, you lave around the digits and force your tongue between them, much to the audible pleasure of the man above you. While you work, your hands continue their torturous fluttering around the bulge at the front of his pants. Eventually your need for him on your tongue becomes too much.

Popping the button of his, you pause to tease him. Your lover growls, quickly reaching to free his girth from the confines of fabric. You try not to look too excited, wetting your lips again and swallowing around the ache of emptiness in your throat. You’ve had him time and time again but the sight of his arousal never ceases to make your own pool between your legs in answer.

He takes your hair in his fist again, coaxing you toward his lap and flicking his chin up once, “Suck.”

The command is enough to make you groan around every inch of his length, welcoming him happily into the slick warmth of your mouth. You pleasure him in earnest, running the flat of your tongue along the underside and swallowing around the head.

He keeps his grip firm in your hair, enough to control your pace. His hips roll against you slowly, working himself into your mouth as he watches from above. It only takes a few minutes before he sags against the wall, letting his forehead fall forward against his forearm, watching you intently. Your ability to turn him into a pile of bliss and your enjoyment of giving him this type of pleasure will never stop amazing him.

Gently, you let your teeth graze along his length, eliciting a hiss from him, “You love sucking cock don’t you angel?”

You whine around him, kissing at the flushed tip briefly before letting him sink his hips forward until your nose nearly presses against his abdomen. Unwilling to let such a moment overtake him and ruin his role, he pulls you off, groaning when you pout at the loss of him between your lips.

He doesn’t fail to notice the way your own fingers have slipped down to work between your spread thighs on the floor, rubbing at yourself through the fabric of your jeans.

“Get up,” he instructs, releasing your hair to curl his fingers around you wrist and pulling you up from the floor. He moves, walking backwards a few paces and letting himself fall onto a couch in the center of the small room. Something in the back of your mind tells you this is a waiting room, unimportant and ignored in the wake of your quest for pleasure. You follow obediently, standing between his spread legs. He reaches for you, bunching your sweater in his palms and yanking it from its place, neatly tucked into your jeans.

“Do you know what I want, angel?” he asks with a voice full of gravel. You’ll never get over his voice when he’s turned on or when he’s speaking lowly. The way it drops octaves and sounds deeper than his usual tenor. That’s not to say his voice isn’t always lovely, but the huskiness of your effect on him is something that never fails to raise your confidence and libido.

You shake your head at him, holding up your sweater for him with both hands while he uses just a little more force than necessary unbuttoning your jeans and yanking the denim down your thighs. You place a hand on his shoulder for balance as you step out of each leg.

He smiles, happily focused on getting you out of them as quickly as possible, before he looks up and leans toward your mouth. “I want to bury my cock in this pretty little pussy,” he says against your lips, digging his thumb into your panties suddenly, directly over your clit. Just in time to make you cry out softly, directly into his mouth. The words paint your cheeks with a hot blush, whimpering as he cups the back of your thighs in his palms and pulls you onto his lap.

“You’re soaked,” he comments, petting his index finger along the damp fabric between your legs. “I bet I don’t even need to stretch you out.” The way he purrs the words against the side of your neck is truly sinful, and every syllable sounds exactly like it is intended coming out of his filthy mouth.

Pulling you against him, he kisses you again when your hands find his shoulders, curling in the padding of his red suit jacket. He kisses you over and over, addicting, until you’re lightheaded and high on the taste of his lips and the feel of his sturdy frame beneath you.

Impatient, he pulls your sweater over your head, whipping it into a ball and throwing it to the floor. His palms slide up over your ribs, taking handfuls of your breasts and squeezing through the material of your bra. He repeats the motion with the flesh of your ass, slipping his palm beneath the hem of your panties and groaning against your throat.

He bites at the skin below your ear, earning him a gasp. The bruise he sucks into the flesh is coupled with the motion of his hands shoving your hips down against his erection. You moan in tandem as he guides your rocking motion with a handful of your rear.

“Does that feel good angel?” he rasps. You meet his sharp eyes with hooded ones of your own, nodding. He forces your back to bow, leaning into him completely. Your breath halts when you feel him take more flesh into his palm and squeeze, letting his fingers slide between your cheeks to press feather light against the hidden ring of muscle as they pass.

You meet his gaze, speaking without any actual words. You’ve both been experimenting with it, willing or wanting to try but taking it slowly and unable to get more than a full, single finger in for now.

He relents, aware that the current situation is not the best place, but not without pressing his index finger over it and rubbing gentle circles to make you shiver in his grasp. His hand moves out of your panties just to pull them down your thighs and help you kick them off.

“I really want to spank you…but we’ll have to save that for later,” he comments gruffly, biting at his own lips as he squeezes you one more time.

Then the clasp of your bra falls open and the straps are sliding down your arms. His mouth and hands replace the fabric immediately, licking and pinching at the buds of your nipples until you’re moaning. Twitching, he works you back down against his length while he kisses your breasts.

Sounds of pleasure harmonize between you at the sudden feeling of his length sliding through your folds, wet and warm. Your hips move of their own accord now, working yourself across his lap to an agreeable rhythm.

He pulls your head to meet his lips again, kissing and biting at your lips until the need for air grows too important. He watches your face as you work yourself against him, “You want it, angel?”

You nod without hesitation, lifting yourself and taking his cock in your hand. He stops you without a word. Only a sinister smile as he forces you from your perch to turn you around and spread your legs back over him facing the wall.

Caught up in the heat, you had been too preoccupied to notice the wall you face is mirrored from floor to ceiling. Your own eyes greet you in the mirror, dilated with bliss. They rake down the form of the naked woman staring back at you, admiring the purple petals of his marks blooming softly across the pink flush of your chest and neck.

A pair of intense blue eyes catch your attention from behind you, the face of your lover expressing a grin when you smile. His palms, strong and warm, attached to fingers dressed in jewels manipulate you in a manner that is rough and gentle all at once.

Slowly, he guides your hips up, holding them with both hands as he sinks you down appropriately, effectively catching the head of his cock at your center. Your lips drop open in a slack-jawed groan as you let yourself slide down inch by inch. You can feel his lips dragging against your spine, burning kisses along your skin.

He was right, much to your mutual delight, there is not much prepping to do. The way he is filling you, wet and warm is a kind of bliss you relish, basking in the pleasure while you reach up to grasp your own breast in your palm. Your eyes watch the explicit scene unfold in the mirror, feeling a little like you’re watching porn.

Your lover adjusts himself, pressing his shoulders into the couch cushions. One of his hands grasps your hip still, the other sliding up and down over your ribs. He moans once you’ve established your rhythm. He follows your speed, lifting his hips to thrust up into your heat with every bounce on his cock.

You feel heat all over your body, but most prominently on your cheeks, concentrated there in a deep rose and so turned on you feel like tears might soon spill from your eyes. He fucks you like this, drinking in every sound you make, getting louder by the second.

“Look at you,” he comments gruffly, pressing his fingertips into your skin. The sight of your joining bodies in the mirror pulls a soft hum of pleasure from his chest, “So good for me.”

His hands pull you back to lean against him, only for one to lift and cover your mouth. Both of you watch your bodies come together repeatedly in the mirror. “You’re being so loud, angel,” he says against your hair, panting. “Someone could come in at any second,” he reminds.

The idea of being caught sends a thrill straight to your core, squeezing around his thrusts. He feels it, groaning against the side of your neck. You’re sweating now, trying not to get carried away by the overwhelming surge pleasure you feel. You’ve been so on edge for him.

“Oh?” he muses, slowing the pace but slamming you against his lap harder and deeper, “Would you like that? Want someone to walk in and see you spread open for me?”

You go with it, nodding. He tuts at you, releasing your mouth to run the hand down your side. He glides it over your mound to tap at your clit with his index finger.

He's quiet for a moment, focused on the sight of you in the mirror. “What if it was one of my brothers, hm?”, he asks huskily. This time, you hesitate, but the way you swallow and your walls flutter around him tells all.

“Which one,” he growls now, circling your bud with his finger slowly while he grinds up into you. “Is it Baekhyun?”

You don’t have time to say anything, watching him question you as he fucks you through the mirror. His gaze meets yours, “Chanyeol?” he says, watching your face as your brows furrow in bliss and your lips drop open. He doesn’t relent, flicking his fingers over your clit quickly with a smirk.

He raises you completely from his cock once, landing a mild smack against your folds when you don’t answer with words. You whine at the loss of him. “Answer me,” he demands, and for a moment you fear this is a cruel joke and a line being crossed and that Junmyeon is actually upset with you.

He seems to sense your fear, immediately guiding you back over the head of his length and sweetly sliding you down until you’re seated fully on his lap again, “I think he would like that,” he sighs, turning your head to kiss your lips before he moves again. Something to let you know that he is not upset at all.

“Would you let him watch?” he rasps when you’ve resumed, and the fear has passed. You nod, whimpering at the idea of another person, let alone someone you know well, to watch you so intimately.

He chuckles beneath you, thrusting up once roughly to make you cry out, “Would you let him touch you, angel?”

You moan, closing your eyes and letting a hand drift to your clit. “What a bad girl,” he comments, replacing his own fingers on your bundle of nerves and meeting your eyes in the mirror, “Want him to get on his knees and lick your pretty little clit while I fuck you like this?”

You moan loudly, bouncing with fervor. “Use your words, angel,” he commands softly, thrusting up into you harder. From what you can see of him in the mirror, his expression mirrors yours. His chest and face are flushed red, his lips swollen and red from biting them.

“Yes,” you moan. The man beneath you groans a curse aloud. Your legs are starting to become jello, tired from exertion.

“What else? Would you want me to flip you on your knees and fuck you while you choke on his cock?” he asks, and the visual has you skyrocketing on pleasure. Your walls begin to squeeze him tighter. You pull air harder, in thick swallows as you chase the high.

Your lover moans quietly, lifting you altogether once more, pausing just briefly enough to let you get on your knees and continue. He manipulates your body to lean forward as far as you comfortably can, grasping a hip in one hand and a wrist in the other, pulled back toward his chest. The new angle hits differently, spiraling closer to orgasm the deeper he reaches.

“Would you fuck him? Let him slide his thick cock into your pussy while I fucked you here?” he groans, sliding a finger up the cleft of your ass. Your answering moan is all he wants, rewarding you with a handful of the flesh and a smack that sounds loud in the small room. You yelp at the sudden feeling and slight sting, but it doesn’t hurt at all.

He groans audibly with the motion, soothing his palm over the skin. “Or would you rather he fucked all of my come back into your abused pussy, hm?”

You gasp, finding your clit again with your own fingers. The man beneath you growls, “You only get to come on my cock... as long as everyone knows this pussy is mine.” You straighten your back, pleasure shooting up your spine when he smacks the same cheek once more.

“Fuck,” you mewl, rubbing faster while he pulls your hips back and forth at a bruising pace. His dirty talk is sending you into oblivion so quickly you can’t keep your eyes open any longer to watch the scene in the mirror. The obscene sounds of wetness between your bodies certainly doesn’t help in slowing the delirium of bliss.

“Fuck,” he mirrors your word, “You’re so close angel…” His lips find your spine again, fingertips digging into the skin of your hips to rock you against him harder.

“You’re going to take it all like a good girl…” he pants out, adjusting himself beneath you so that he can piston his own hips faster against you. He reaches up to take a handful of your left breast, tweaking the nipple between his fingers briefly until his hips falter and his pace becomes frantic.

He begins holding his breath behind you, filling his lungs with shallow bites of oxygen and humming his pleasure. This part is always your favorite, even if he disagrees. Hearing, seeing, feeling, it doesn’t matter. Experiencing him coming undone often gives you the right leverage to ride the crest of your own wave, crashing down around you only moments before he does.

You can feel the damp heat of his breath against your back, your fingers bringing you so close to your high that your legs begin shaking on either side of his thighs, “Jun…” you whimper softly, falling out of the roles.

You suck in one sharp gasp, back bowing forward and he catches you by the waist with one strong arm, gripping you to him like a vice as you ride him through your orgasm on a silent scream.

With lips planted at your shoulder, he kisses at your skin and pulls your hips down over him tightly. He releases a long moan with the breath he was holding, letting your walls pulse around him until there’s nothing left. His fingers find their way to your sensitive clit, petting just enough to feel you jolt against him once or twice. To feel you squeeze the last few drops from him with a hiss.

Spent and tired, you slowly open your eyes to find the mess of your bodies in the mirror. Your fingers clutch at his knees through the fabric of his red pants, burning beneath your palms. Behind you, your lover has an arm slung over his eyes and his exposed chest rises and falls quickly in long, deep breaths.

An uncomfortable sort of lead makes a home in the pit of your stomach. One you think showed up just before the height of your pleasure, your head aware it was hovering at the edges of thought but too charged to give its presence any attention.

You turn as best as your body can manage, looking for his eyes. Two that now make you frown, unable to see the true depth of them through the artificial color. He feels you move, lifting his arm just enough to meet your searching eyes. He gives you a dazzling smile.

And it breaks you.

A choked laugh bubbles up and rips past your lips in tandem with tears that slide down your cheeks. His arm moves from his face to yours, grunting his worry and dissatisfaction when he can’t hold you properly in this position.

Gentle palms cradle your thighs as he lifts you from his softening length, earning a whimper from you and ignoring the mess of your mutual need the action creates.

“Did I hurt you?” he whispers, wiping tears with his thumbs as he pulls you against his chest, “I’m sorry.”

An apology only makes you sob harder against him. You should be the one who is sorry, feeling the shame wash over you and stick like poisonous tar in your mouth. Shaking your head at him, you try to work words in through your tears.

“No,” you choke again, looking to the ceiling and blinking rapidly as you try to keep it in, “I’m sorry.”

When you look to him again, he softens. “For what? You didn’t do anything wrong,” he clarifies.

Your arms gesture around, between your bodies wildly and to the door and the mirror and Junmyeon can’t quite understand what you’re trying to articulate until a name froths from your lips in a garbled cry.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos, understanding painting his features. He smiles at you, something you don’t think you deserve.

“I’m so sorry,” you moan, pressing the heels of your palms to your eyes. Junmyeon rubs at your body with soothing, comforting hands. “It’s just you,” you try to continue, taking deep breaths through your tears, “I didn’t mean it.”

The way your voice shatters makes your boyfriend crush you to his chest, hastily pulling you across his lap again and tucking your legs up against his side. He wraps his arms around as much of you as he can, kissing your hair and your shoulder and your ear, everywhere his lips can reach without dislodging you from his hold.

“Y/N,” he says calmly, “Please don’t think that was a mistake.”

You don’t respond at first, continuing to let your heart lodge itself in your throat. Part of you wishes it would just suffocate you so you would not have to feel this awful or guilty.

Junmyeon stirs you from your thoughts. “I’m sorry I suggested it if it made you uncomfortable,” he clarifies.

Your glassy and red eyes snap to his, “No, please don’t be. I’m the one who…” you trail, unable to get the words out, “I feel awful.”

“Hey,” he tries, pulling your hands away from your face so he can kiss at the apples of your cheeks and your lips so you stop biting them so hard to keep in your cries. “Why?”

“I feel like I cheated,” you confess immediately through a sob. Holding the words on your tongue is nearly unbearable, you feel absolutely disgusted with yourself. You feel crazy and sick and ridiculous all at once. Your body feels hot and cold at the same time.

Junmyeon stills against you, nodding his head, “Sweetheart, no. Inviting another person into our sex life mutually is not cheating. It is certainly something worth discussing together but it is not at all even close to that. Please don’t be upset.”

You drag two large swallows of air into your lungs and breathe for a moment, “But we didn’t talk about it first, and I l-liked it.”

He smiles at you, genuinely, “It’s okay. Like I said, I brought it up. I’m okay with inviting him into the bedroom, too. Just maybe not all the time.”

“I don’t want to,” you state, shaking your head and letting your hands run the length of Junmyeon’s arms and chest, “I don’t want it to be real. I only want you,” you choke down again, clearing your throat, “I’ve only wanted you.”

The grin that spreads across his face makes him look up at the ceiling, swiping his tongue over his lips as he fights down his smile. This is a quirk of his you know means your words have made him extremely happy or he thinks you’re incredibly endearing… or both.

His reaction seems to deflate some of the tension from your shoulders, “I’m sorry I’m crazy,” you admit.

Then the smile falls, “You’re not crazy at all, and I know it’s hard for you to ignore being told you are for a long time.” He says the words without stopping, all on one breath because he knows you would try to object.

“You are a wonderful person and you’re thoughtful and considerate and not at all anything like what those people tried to make you believe,” he petitions with furrowed brows. His features smooth again with a whisper, “I’m so lucky to have you.”

The words spring new tears to your eyes and you wrap your arms around his neck, hugging his head to your chest, “Thank you.”

When you release him, he nods and pecks your lips quickly. You smile, feeling a bit sheepish and on edge still and altogether emotionally and physically drained. His fingers are gentle as he brings them to your face to wipe your slowing tears.

You place your hand over his, guiding it to your lips where you place a kiss against the skin. He looks at you fondly, softening with your affection, “Please just know I mean it. I don’t think about anyone else; I don’t want anyone else. I don’t need anyone else. Just you.”

He nods, sitting up to bring your lips together in a series of kisses that soothe your soul and heal the bleeding scars left on your heart from others.

In this moment, it’s another kind of thought that creeps in slowly at the edges of your consciousness. One you’ve had in passing a few times, more frequent lately than not. Taking up larger spaces in your head and heart and getting closer and closer to whispering its name in your ear.

You don’t speak much while you clean up as best you can, both spent. There is some slight difficulty on your  part with dressing because of how sore you feel. Junmyeon, ever the most considerate and thoughtful, helps you lift each leg to step into your jeans, pulling them up your hips. He places a chaste kiss squarely at your abdomen before he buttons them for you. Then pats the thickness of your rear after, eyeing the way it moves slightly with mischievous eyes.

The grin he serves you as he follows you out of the room earns him a playful flick to one of his own brown nipples, exposed by his attire. He laughs at your antics while you find your way back to his Manager.

As you’re wrapping your arms around him to say goodbye you can feel his lips at your hairline, slowly rocking you back and forth for a moment. The second you separate to stand on your toes and kiss at his lips, the creeping thought comes to sharp clarity in your mind. The sudden realization of it crashes against you ribcage like thunder.

You follow his Manager out, looking back with a silent wave and wanting to say, “I love you.”

[datheetjoella]

Fantober 2020, Day 29: Soulmate

Author: DatHeetJoella Fandom: Free! Pairing: MakoHaru Rating: T Part: 29/31 (read the full collection here) Word count: 2,872 Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmate, Developing Relationship, Fluff, First Interaction, Mirror Link Read at: AO3, FFn, or right here!

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Green. For as long as he could remember, Haruka had dreamt of green. It was vibrant, ever-present, warm, and above all comforting. Like the essence of happiness was captured in one colour.

Outside of his dreams, Haruka had never encountered a green quite like it - at least, not that he recalled. Grass seemed dull in comparison, while neon signs screamed to call attention to them, but Haruka's green was a gentle shade, bright but still soft.

Haruka didn't know what it was supposed to represent, if it even had a meaning or if it was nothing more than an image his mind conjured up at night because it couldn't be bothered to create something else. But it wasn't unpleasant, far from it, so he hadn't questioned it beyond a fleeting thought here and there.

It was no different this morning; the last rays of green lingered before his eyelids when he woke up and left contentment in his heart. What was different this morning was the time displayed on his alarm clock, that either hadn't gone off or that he'd pressed in his sleep. Seven-fifteen, half an hour later than usual. There went his morning bath.

His good mood instantly vanished and he was almost certain a bad day would follow. With a sigh, Haruka pulled himself from his sheets and dragged his feet toward the bathroom.

The mirror above the sink reflected his sour expression, but he couldn't be bothered to unfurl his eyebrows. It wasn't like anyone else could see him right now and even if they could, he couldn't care less about his appearance or their possible opinion at that moment.

He grabbed the tube of toothpaste and his brush and pinched some onto the bristles, then he sighed again. Of course it squirted out too much, half of it spilling over and wasting away in the sink. Scrap that bad day and make it awful.

The thunder clouds were nearly visible above his head as he lazily brushed his teeth. Perhaps he should've just turned around and gone back to sleep, school be damned. Judging by how this day was going so far, he'd probably miss the train or get hit by a bus on the way there.

He spat out some of the excess toothpaste, but when he straightened his back, he wasn't met with his reflection. Instead, he saw a completely different bathroom, with a white wall instead of small blue tiles, and a completely different person; a person he didn't know.

It was a guy who he estimated to be around his age. His brown locks were styled in the most incredible bedhead Haruka had ever seen and his eyes were squeezed shut, a large hand covering up a yawn. When it passed, he lowered his arm and revealed his heart-shaped face with thick, upslanting eyebrows, a straight and slightly raised nose, full lips and pearly teeth.

Despite the visible fatigue wearing down his features, he was undeniably handsome. Very handsome. But when he opened his eyes and his pupils shrunk as they adjusted to the light inside the bathroom, Haruka's breath was stolen from his lungs. His irises were green. That shade of green Haruka had been yearning for since he was a child.

After eighteen years, Haruka finally saw his soulmate and he was relieved and touched and immensely confused.

Most people first met their soulmate when they were kids. As soon as they heard about the connection mirrors made between two people, a phenomenon scientists couldn't explain to this day, they'd spend days in front of the most reflective surface in their house in the hopes of catching a glimpse of their special someone. While Haruka hadn't been quite that eager, he'd be lying if he said that he didn't coincidentally pass by mirrors more often than before and lingered for longer than necessary.

Not once had he booked any success and after a while, he gave up. If his soulmate and he were destined to be together, they would see each other eventually. As the years went by, the lurch of his stomach whenever he stood in front of a mirror disappeared and the thought faded to the back of his mind, where it lived as a cricket that blended in with the rest of the white noise.

And now, when he overslept like he never did and was angry at the world for the tiniest little things going wrong, the day that had been written in the stars since his birth or perhaps long before that had arrived. It was almost funny. Almost.

Haruka was sure he hadn't seen him before, because there was no way he could ever forget a face as beautiful as this guy's. What did leave him baffled, though, was that he'd somehow been dreaming of his soulmate's eyes for years prior to their first meeting. That wasn't supposed to be part of the deal and he never heard of anyone who experienced it too, not from his friends or family members, not even in the most romantic movies or tv dramas. Had his soulmate been dreaming of his eye colour too, or was Haruka special for some unknown reason?

He didn't have much time to ponder it over. When his soulmate processed what he was seeing, his jaw dropped, then his mouth moved rapidly and he frantically waved his hands. What he was blabbering about, Haruka had no idea since mirrors were not equipped with microphones and speakers, but once he said his piece, he was gone.

Everything happened in a flash and before Haruka knew it, he was staring back at himself again. Like the image of his soulmate was nothing more than a hallucination.

Unsure of what to do now, Haruka quickly finished brushing his teeth and rinsed out his mouth. He wasn't sure if his soulmate was going to come back, but if he left now, then he might have to wait for eighteen more years to see him again.

Fortunately, his patience was rewarded. After a minute, the guy returned with a notebook in hand. He held it up and scribbled on the page in fine letters was, 'Hello, nice to meet you. My name is Makoto Tachibana. What is your name?'

The writing was in English and Haruka felt like an idiot once more. He hadn't even considered the possibility that his soulmate could be from another country. While his name was clearly Japanese and his appearance matched, that didn't have to mean he lived here and spoke the language fluently. Perhaps his ancestors moved overseas a century ago and he didn't speak two words Japanese. The possible time zone difference that came with it might've been the reason they hadn't met sooner. If that were the case, they were going to have a problem because foreign languages were not exactly Haruka's strongest suit. There was only one way to find out.

He held up his hand to tell his soulmate to wait while he went to fetch a notebook and a pen of his own. When he got them, he sped back to the bathroom, where his soulmate remained with a kind smile on his face. The drowsiness had vanished and instead, his eyes were twinkling, making Haruka's stomach flutter. Even without the mirror, Haruka would've instantly known this was his soulmate; never before had a single expression done so much to his insides.

'Haruka Nanase.' He wrote down and then he decided to cut to the chase immediately. He scratched at his chin as he pondered over the correct English spelling. 'Where are you from?'

'I am from Japan, and you?' Was his soulmate's response and his heart sighed in relief. At least he didn't have to worry about his English vocabulary anymore.

'Me too.'

His soulmate's face lit up even more - if that was even possible - and he excitedly scribbled more into his notebook. 'Oh, thank goodness! I was afraid you'd be from abroad and that I would have to write in English the whole time. My English is not so good.'

A tiny smile curled Haruka's lips. So far, that was one trait they had in common. But before he could write that, his soulmate put his pen against his paper again.

'I'm so glad I finally get to see you, Nanase-kun. I was starting to worry we might never meet. I've been looking forward to this moment for so long and I have so many things I want to ask you. Sorry if that's weird.' When writing in his native language, Makoto appeared to be very talkative. It was kind of cute.

'It's not weird. I've been wondering about you too.' Haruka held up his notebook, but then he lowered it again and added, 'and just Haru is fine. No need to be so polite.'

'Alright, Haru, you can call me Makoto, then. How old are you?'

'Eighteen.'

'Oh, you're older than me. I'm seventeen. I'm turning eighteen on November 17th.'

November 17th. Haruka hadn't given his soulmate's birthday much thought, but now it seemed odd he always passed such an important day by like it was nothing, while he was certainly going to celebrate it in the future.

'That's less than a month away. I should get you a present.'

Makoto wrote something, then scrapped it and wrote something else. What was left was, 'Thanks, but you don't have to. When's your birthday?' But crossed out between the lines, Haruka could make out 'meeting you is already the best present I could've wished for.'

Haruka felt his cheeks warm up and he averted his head. Although they met a mere handful of minutes ago, Makoto was already proving himself to be overwhelmingly sweet and kind. Not that Haruka expected anything less of his soulmate.

'June 30th.'

'Only a few months apart. I'm assuming you're in your third year of high school too, right?' Makoto wrote and Haruka nodded. 'Sorry if this is too personal, but do you mind telling me where you live?'

That question made Haruka frown. Makoto was his soulmate and they were supposed to live their lives by each other's side. In order to meet in person, knowing where the other was located was kind of a requirement. Maybe Makoto was a bit too considerate for his own good. 'I was born in Kyoto, but I currently live in Tokyo.'

Makoto's green eyes lit up in something Haruka could only describe as excitement. 'Really? I'm planning to go to a university in Tokyo in April! Meijou Chuo, have you heard of it?'

If Makoto was coming to Tokyo, that meant he didn't leave here yet, but that he would be within reach soon. That brought some peace to Haruka's heart; now he didn't have to jump through hoops to see him in real life. 'I have. What are you going to study?'

'Sports Education. I want to be a swim coach for children.'

This time, it was Haruka's turn to gasp. Did that mean Makoto was a swimmer too? It seemed almost too good to be true, but would someone who didn't love to swim really be his other half? 'Do you swim yourself?'

'I do. I specialise in backstroke. Does that mean you also swim?'

By the look of his broad shoulders, that wasn't difficult to believe. Haruka could only imagine what kind of muscles were concealed by his orange and yellow shirt.

'I only swim free.' Haruka noted down and before he knew it, he added, 'I was offered a swimming scholarship at Hidaka University. I'll be starting in April too.'

Makoto's mouth fell ajar. 'Wow, that's amazing, Haru! I'm so proud of you.'

If Haruka's face felt warm before, then it was scorching now. 'If you're going to a university in Tokyo, then where do you live now?'

'In Iwatobi, a small seaside town in Tottori. I was born and raised here. Have you heard of it before?'

The coincidences were stacking up so quickly it was almost scary. 'My grandma was born in Iwatobi. She lived there for years until she and my grandpa got together and moved to Kyoto.'

'Really? Who would've thought?' Makoto held up his notebook with a small chuckle. Haruka couldn't hear it, but he was convinced the sound was as lovely as his sunny smile was.

'She always made it sound like a beautiful place, so I've been meaning to go visit it sometime.'

'You definitely should, it truly is an amazing place. The view of the ocean is stunning and the mountains are perfect to hike or ride a bicycle through.' Once Makoto was certain Haruka had read it, he flipped the page and wrote something else. 'I've lived here for my whole life, so it's going to be hard to adjust to living in such a big city without my family around. Although I set my mind to it, I've never been all by myself before and I was scared I wouldn't be able to get around, so knowing you'll be there is a great comfort.'

Without conscious input of his brain, Haruka wrote, 'It is a bit scary at first, but you'll get used to it sooner or later. If you're not comfortable living by yourself, you're welcome to come live with me. My parents moved to Hokkaido for my father's work so I live by myself anyway.'

The second he raised his pen from the paper, he began to question his own sanity. He just met Makoto and didn't even know what his voice was like yet, let alone the rest of his life and how he was as a person. Soulmate or not, suggesting to move in together right off the bat was absolutely mental and there was no way Haruka was showing him this page.

To his relief and to his regret, Makoto suddenly wrote. 'I'm sorry, Haru, I have to go. My mom is calling me for breakfast and I still have to brush my teeth and get dressed. I'd love to chat with you more and ask everything I want to know, but if I don't hurry up I'll be late for school.'

The thought of having to part now they finally met after years stung, but even though their worlds stopped turning when their gazes locked, the outside world continued on like nothing had happened. 'It's okay. I have to get going too or else I'll miss my train.'

'Before you go, could I ask for your phone number and email? Then we can easily keep in touch without having to stand in front of a mirror all day.'

Haruka nodded again. 'Wait a second. I don't know them from the top of my head, so I have to get my phone.'

'No worries, I'll wait.'

Once Haruka had retrieved his phone from some side pocket of his bag, he sped back to the bathroom. He wrote the information out on the page and Makoto copied it into his own notebook.

'Thanks! I'll send you a message right away so you'll have my contact info too. Thank you for chatting with me, Haru. I couldn't have imagined a better soulmate.' Makoto tilted his head, eyes falling shut with a beaming grin.

Involuntarily, a smile graced Haruka's face as well. When met with such a joyous expression on such a handsome face, was it even possible not to smile as well? 'Me neither.'

After they scribbled some goodbyes, Haruka dashed out of the bathroom, promptly forgetting to even wash his face because his frantic heart was trying to hammer its way out of his chest. He had to start cooking or else he would certainly miss his train, but Haruka couldn't look away from his phone's screen, waiting for that message to pop up. Until then, he wouldn't be able to get a bite down his throat.

A whopping two minutes later, his phone beeped at last.

'Hey Haru, this is Makoto. Here you have my contact info. Sorry if I'm being too forward, and if that is the case then you can tell me and I'll back off, but do you have time to talk some more later? I've been dying to meet you and like I said earlier, there are countless things I want to ask you. If not, that's alright. Please know that you're always welcome to call me or send me a message whenever you want. I'll try my best to respond as quickly as possible. I hope to hear back from you soon, but there's no rush. Have a nice day!'

Haruka stared at the screen, his stomach tingling with a wave of unfamiliar feelings. Now he was definitely going to be late for school.

Little did Haruka know back then that Makoto and he would see each other in person sooner than he had thought, that Makoto's dreams had been overrun by cobalt blue for as long as he could remember as well, and that their first interaction had not actually been their first meeting. But least of all, Haruka couldn't have foreseen that the mindless proposal he wrote on that October day in front of the mirror but hadn't held up to show Makoto would come true.

[isawrightless]

I’ll Drown When I See You

Jill Valentine, Carlos Oliveira After escaping Raccoon City, Carlos offers Jill some shelter.

set directly after the events of resident evil 3. Rating: M -----

Finding herself homeless and directionless after Raccoon City’s destruction, Jill kept clinging to the only real leads she had: Chris was somewhere in Europe, and Barry was helping from the background, prioritizing the safety of his family. She’d be meeting them soon. But she was tired and hurt. There was not a part of her that didn’t ache, mentally or physically, and for now she needed a place to rest.

Checking in at a hotel proved itself to be a difficult task. For all she’d been through, all the tragedy she had endured, Jill Valentine couldn’t stand the glare and the whispering about her reasons and the state of her body; Why does she have so many bruises? Why is she limping? Is she on the run from something? Is it even safe to be here? Did she come from Raccoon City?

Those questions lingered on the eyes of anyone who even glimpsed at her. Sure, the blood and dirt were gone and the clothes were new (she’d made good on the promise of burning the old ones), but the situation remained the same. She had just escaped from a city that had been wiped out from existence and her own figure was a walking reminder of that.

Then Carlos; sweet, compassionate Carlos, all battered and bruised too, offered shelter. Asked Jill to stay with him in this small rented cabin he’d found.

And now here they are.

She’s not allowed to worry about anything else besides her own healing, that’s the deal. When the topic of buying new clothes and some other necessesities comes up, Jill’s adamant that she’ll buy them herself with whatever money she still has stored somewhere but Carlos stands his ground. She’s his guest, after all. And he’s taking the couch, no problem, she gets the bed. She needs it more.

When she tries to reason with him that she doesn’t mind the couch, it falls on deaf ears.

“Don’t worry, Supercop,” he says. “Just take it easy.”

And she does. Or at least tries to. The second her head hits the pillow, she can’t close her eyes. Whenever she does, that thing shows up, or the corpse of another teammate. Joseph always makes a guest appearence in her dreams. The first real death she’d witnessed at the start of this entire nightmare. He always stands there, half-eaten, limbs missing, speaking through a hole in his face, asking her not to leave him there. It’s cold. It’s cold and he’s alone. And she wants to scream, to tell him she did try to save him, she tried to save everyone, she really did.

She always wakes up before she can hear an answer and spends the rest of the day haunted and frustrated.

Which is why she’s more than confused when she sits up on the bed, sweaty amd startled, looks out the window and finds out it’s night time. A glance on the clock tells her it’s 22:00 PM.

She doesn’t feel rested at all.

Spotting a bag near the end of the bed, she leans over and brings it to her lap, looks inside to find some toothpaste, a toothbrush, soap and a body moisturiser. A couple of other bags are neatly placed on the floor, next to the bed. Inside them, she finds tank tops and t-shirts, two pairs of sweatpants, shorts and brand new underwear. It makes her smile, her first moment of true relief afer all that hell. But the thought of Carlos trying to guess and pick which kind of underwear she’d like is almost too cute.

On the nightstand there’s a water bottle that she opens and drinks in small sips even though what she wants is to drink it all in one go to quench her thrist. When she’s done, her lips feel softer, something she appreciates immensily. Ignoring the aching muscles, she picks some of her new clothes (a pair of sweatpants, the tank top and her brand new cotton panties), stands up on unsteady feet, takes a few steps foward and realizes she needs to brace herself against the wall to get some support.

Heading to the bathroom, she refuses to look at herself in the mirror while setting the clothes she’s going to wear on top of the sink. Undressing, she holds herself when a chill runs down her spine. It’s fine. A false pretense, perhaps, but it’s fine, it’s a worthy delusion. Let her drown in it’s fine it’s fine it’s fine.

Starting the shower, she rests against the tile wall as she waits for the water to get warm. The cold tile against her skin makes her gasp in surprise. She stretches a hand out to check the water’s temperature and then steps right in.

She can barely move her arms without feeling them burn, but she scrubs her body and washes her hair until her skin is red and her scalp hurts. Something needs to be done, something needs to happen, but her chest feels broken and she’s got no home, no plan, no instructions to follow now. Only ghosts that haunt her at every corner.

Calling her out.

Daring her to go on living while they remain dead and frozen in time, wiped out from existence as if they never even mattered in the first place.

As the water runs down her body, she realizes the extent of her injuries. Her right shoulder is bruised, left arm stinging as the soap clings to that wound, her thighs are purple and yellow on different places, and if she squints she can almost pretend they’re something pretty and delicate, like little glaxies on her skin.

There’s a cut and a bruise just above her hip that probably need more attention than she’s currently showing.

She stands under the showerhead for a while, letting the hot water hit the back of her neck, easing her strain. The urge to cry is strong, eyes already rimmed with tears, but she’s way too stubborn to let them fall. Not the smartest choice considering all the words she refuses to say out loud are choking her, chest tight with agony as she swallows back a sob.

She’d give anything to disappear right now.

Taking a deep breath, she finds the courage to cut off the water and step out of the shower. She dries herself with a towel, biting her bottom lip to keep the discomfort that raising her arms brings, and puts on her new clothes, feeling at least a little bit refreshed. She brushes her teeth with her brand new toothbrush and when she’s done, she stares at object for a moment.

He’s thought of everything.

Back into the bedroom, she can hear him pacing around the main room, and she  tries to prepare herself to go meet him. She doesn’t know why she’s so nervous or why her heart is beating a little faster and she refuses to think too much on it.

But that’s Day 1.

Day 2 is quiet.

She’s siting on a worn out couch, body finally giving in to all the injuries it sustainted just a few days ago and it’s hard to move. Her arms feel like they’re about to fall off and she’s sore all over. Some wounds are still tender, and speech doesn’t come easily without the presence of a headache.

Carlos goes out again, brings her painkillers, helps her chase them down with a glass of water. She smiles at him because she can see how worried he is, can even guess what he’s thinking.

Maybe the vaccine didn’t work.

“Do you wanna watch TV?” he asks, voice giving him away. “The reception is, uh, pretty bad but there’s gotta be something good to watch.”

She shakes her head no, still eyeying him like a hawk, and he moves back to sit next to her. “You hungry then?”

“Not at all,” she manages to say.

“You sure? I don’t mean to brag but I’m a great cook.”

“You are?”

“Best one around.”

“Hit the jackpot then.”

It takes a second for her words to sink in and when they do, Carlos gives a boyish smile and says, “That’s my line.”

She tries to laugh and move but that ache pulls at her strings once again, making her flinch. He draws her closer to him, and she lets him.

They fall into a  routine by day 4.

Carlos cooks for them and does some errands and no matter how much Jill protests, she’s told she needs to stay still and heal. She does point out how flawed that train of thought it considering he went through hell too but he always ends up making an excuse.

To say that her heart is free from all that agony from before would be a lie but by now the only thing that truly bothers her-physically- is her left arm. It aches from time to time, a jolt of pain that stings and keeps her awake at night, completely alert, a reminder of what could have been.

She looks at the wound that monster left her, a little gift, exames it again and again, and it’s closed and healing but the pain is still there and Jill knows, she knows that it will never go away.

Carlos comes back that day with some new blankets (the ones at the cabin are simply awful and prickly) and some pepperoni pizza.

This sort of domestic bliss, where they function on pretending the outside world doesn’t exist and they won’t have to figure out what to do about all they’ve been through carries on through day 5 to 6.

On day 7, Jill gets out of the shower, puts on a t-shirt (blue, as Carlos assumed that’s her favorite color), a pair of panties and some shorts and heads to the kitchen to help with dinner.

He smiles when he sees her, a beer in hand, and jokes he’s got a great taste for clothes.

Perhaps it’s the sense of peace that has fallen over them, even if temporary, or maybe it’s just the carefree way he makes her feel, but Jill sticks her tongue out, steals his beer, takes a sip and smirks at him.

She expects some teasing, some kind of silly payback. Instead, he steps closer, leans in and kisses her. Just like that; no warning, no nothing, as if the two of them have been doing this forever, like it’s a habit they’ll never grow out of. And she responds eagerly, kissing back, arms going around his neck when he deepens the kiss, his tongue on hers, hands firmly placed on her hips, holding her steady, afraid she might slip away.

The tenderness is almost alarming. He’s taking his time, enjoying every sensation and she can’t help but press against him. He gets the hint, smiling in the middle of the kiss, sliding his hands down her body, grabbing her ass and squeezing, drawing a moan out of her. She steps back to catch her breath, already missing him. He brings a hand up to cup her face, thumb swiping across her bottom lip as he rests his forehead on hers, staring right into her bright blue eyes.

There’s another kiss before he drags his mouth away to focus on her neck, gently biting and sucking, leaving his mark on her soft flesh. She gives in to him so easily, mind racing with need. Reaching down she tries to unbuckle his belt but the action proves to be a bit too much for her sore shoulder and she ends up hissing in pain, wincing as the burning sensation flares up then goes all the way down to her hand. The wound on her left arm stings like crazy, and she tries not to think too much about it, despite the ache.

There’s no running from Carlos’ sweetness, though, and he stops everything he’s doing, stepping back to look at her. She can feel a slight blush sweeping across her face and she hates it.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine,” she says.

The last thing she wants is to ruin the mood, especially when he’s got her all worked up already and she’s been waiting for this, been needing this for a while. Carlos shakes his head, “So stubborn,” he breathes out before picking her up. She doesn’t really know his plan, but she hooks her right arm around his neck as he takes her to the bedroom. His scent is intoxicating and by the time he gets her inside the room letting go of him seems like the hardest thing in the world. But then he sets her down on the bed, all handsome and sweet, shaggy hair all over his face, that crooked smile still plastered on his lips and she can hardly wait for what’s to come.

Sitting up, she adjusts herself a bit and watches as he takes off his black t-shirt, takes a second to admire his hairy chest and toned abdomen and then goes back to watching, biting her bottom lip while he unbuckles his belt, kicks his shoes and socks off before climbing on top of her, diving back in for her lips, hands working on taking off her t-shirt, helping her out of the sleeves. He discards the piece of clothing by throwing it across the room and draws back to take a good look at her. She’s at his mercy, breasts exposed, nipples hard, scars spread across her skin; some are rather large and faded, gifts from that cold, horrible mansion; some are new, pearly white and glistening around bruises and light scratches still lost in the process of healing. And she’s beautiful.

“Oh, c'mon,” Carlos starts, licking his bottom lip. He leans down, right hand fixing up a few strands of her hair. “You can’t be real.”

Jill chooses to hide how much his words mean to her in a small smile and a scoff; she was never one to open up properly and she’s not about to list all the reasons why she has been avoiding looking in the mirror, at least not now. Thankfully, Carlos goes back to kissing her and that suits her just fine.

She trails a hand down his torso before reaching his unbuckled belt and then going further, palming him through his pants. He’s hard and she’s soaking wet and anxious and the little grunt he lets out in her ear doesn’t help things. All hope of self control goes out the window the second he kisses his way down to her breasts, bringing a hand to cup one of them while his mouth works on the other one, the tip of his tongue circling a nipple before sucking on it, making her arch her back and moan. He steals a quick glance at her, wishing he could frame the moment forever, as cliche and cheesy as that sounds. But she’s gorgeous, she’s absolutely gorgeous, and to have her unguarded like this, for him, it sends him into a state of euphoria that he can’t quite explain.

He alternates between one breast and the other, enjoying her gasps and moans and by the time he’s done, when he comes back up for a kiss, her breasts are glistening with saliva, a slight flush covering them. His actions serve only to encourage her, demolishing any kind of hesitation or worry. She wastes no time unzipping his pants as he kisses her long and good, reaching inside his boxers to pull his cock out, holding it in her hands firmly; he is big and thick, smooth, veiny and throbbing, precome trickling down his length, and she starts stroking him slowly, up and down, pressing right against that sweet, sensitive spot under the head of his cock with each upstroke. He groans, mouth open against hers, closes his eyes and lets himself fall into her touch, hips thrusting into her hand, trying to set his own rhythm, showing her how he likes it.

Jill doesn’t see or hear anything that isn’t him. It’s impossible to think of anything else when he’s so handsome, throwing his head back and moaning only to stare at her with those kind eyes of his. She thinks she could stay like this for a long while, just watching him, her hand wrapped around his cock, feeling him hot and twitching, begging for something else.

He doesn’t give time for her to improvise though. Panting, he grabs her wrist, ceasing her movements. Grinning, he leans back, hands sliding up and down her legs until he hooks his fingers on the waistband of her shorts and pulls them down along with her panties. She can’t help the small smirk as she lifts her hips and bends her knees to help him take them off.

He’s stealing kisses, dragging his mouth down her body, marking her here and there, being careful around the bruises, fighting the need to just have her every time she lets out a shaky breath. He grabs one of her thighs with his right hand, the other one staying firmly on her hip, his mouth not once leaving her skin, and she gets the hint, spreads her legs to accomodate him further. That’s when he glances at her, finds her staring down at him, her short hair framing her face, and he almost loses it. But he carries down with his mouth, teasing and kissing her inner thighs, his beard tickling her, soft licks against her skin, breath ghosting over the spot between her legs until she gasps out his name.

And then there’s this moment, a fraction of time in which he realizes that this is happening, this is really happening and she wants him, too, she wants him and she’s waiting and so he runs his tongue along her slit, feels proud when her hands goes on on top of his head, fingers tangling in his hair. He licks her slowly, explores every inch, every fold, wants to taste every bit of her.

When she moans he changes the pace, teases, circles her entrance with the tip of his tongue, presses it flat against her and licks like a hungry, needy man, eats her out nicely, takes his time. Then she begs, asks for more and he swirls his tongue around her clit one, two, three times, moves his head up and down, his nose adding a much needed friction and then he sucks on her clit, keeps going until she’s arching her back off the bed and grinding against his face. He follows her rhythm, the one she imposes, eyes closed, voice cracking.

“Carlos,” she says, sill holding on to his hair, desperately lifting her hips, rocking on his mouth. “I’m gonna come-” It’s the way her voice cracks at the end of the word ‘come’ that drives him insane, eager to taste more of her, to have her melting on his tongue.

He hums in response, increases the pressure and holds her tighter as she squirms and writhes, moans his name again and again until it turns into a soundless cry, until time stops and she tenses, comes on his tongue, muscles spasming and toes curling while he helps her ride out her orgasm. She tries to pull away, it’s too much, she’s too sensitive, but he can’t help himself, he wants just a bit more because maybe he’ll never have her like this again, maybe this is just a one time thing so he wants every drop of her, he wants to be a little selfish here, make sure this day will be burned in his brain forever; she’s honey scented, holy in every way, and so he gives her one final lick and stops when she starts shaking.

The sound of her breathing echoes through the room, her chest rising and falling rapidly as he backs away and looks up at her, a satisfied grin on his face when he sees the state she’s in. He’s got something to say, a little joke to make, but it fades to nothing the second she grabs his face in her hands and pulls him into a bruising kiss.

Too many things hide in that kiss, from little trinkents to precious jewels, that kiss changes everything the second she tastes herself on him, the second he grabs hold of her again and deepens said kiss, finds all those treasures hidden in each soft breath, and he feels her hands tugging at the waistband of his pants, “Take these off,” she says through gritted teeth and he does as he’s told, moves away from her for one second that feels like forever and slides out of his pants and boxers, cock twitching, missing her hand, wondering how her mouth would feel on him, knowing that there’s no way he can let her do that to him now otherwise he won’t last, he won’t last at all.

“Come here,” her voice is low and demanding in the softest way possible. He gets back on the bed, sits in front of her, kisses her again, and they stay like that for a while, just exploring each other’s mouths until she can’t help herself and grabs hold of him and he grunts in her mouth because he’s been hard for so long now, been needing her for so long, and watching her orgasm a few moments ago, knowing he provoked that almost made him burst right then and there, and now her hand is on him again and he can’t control himself.

“You’re the sweetest thing I have ever tasted,” he confesses, breathless, “Jill, you’re the sweetest fucking thing.”

And Jill nods, not really knowing how to respond to such a bold statement, her face flushed, she nods and flattens a hand against his chest and pushes him down on the mattress, straddles him and although her plan is clear, she winces and hisses in pain the second she tries to move her other arm and as much as she tries to play it off, it doesn’t go unnoticed by Carlos.

He’s quick to sit up, to cup her face, eyes scanning her frame. “You alright?” and his words are a bit rushed, stumbling in his own want and worry. “Wanna stop?”

“No, don’t even think about it,” she adds quickly.

“You sure?”

“Wait, I’m not Supercop anymore?” she says with a smirk. “I’m just a little sore.”

“Then let me take care of you,” he says, caressing her face, robbing her of a kiss. “If it’s still okay.”

The concern is endearing, the implication of his words even more so. “Of course it’s still okay.”

Another kiss, he lowers her onto the mattress, runs his hands up and down her body until he stops them at her bent knees. She spreads her legs for him again, and he’s so consumed by her he feels almost tipsy, everything goes hazy for a minute. He’s been hard and aching to the point of desperation even, but he swears, he does, that if she asked him to just go down on her again he would, oh god, he would, no doubt about it.

Except she’s waiting, the gleam in her blue eyes making him fall in love with her, because yes, that’s what he’s feeling, love. He’s known for days and she’s changed his entire life and he won’t stomach it when she leaves. She’s worked her way into his heart, growing around it like a vine and he doesn’t want her to let go.

“Carlos,” she whispers, but there’s urgency hiding behind her tone.

He grabs her legs, bringing her closer to him, holding his cock by the base then gently guiding himself inside her; just the tip first, to see her reaction, and then he moves an inch more and she bites her bottom lip again, looks down at him, expectation written across her face. Then he goes all in; she’s so wet, so ready, there’s no resistance. They both sigh in relief at the feeling, her little moan contrasting with his grunt, and she’s grateful for the time he gives her to get used to him; it’s been a while since she’s been with anyone but even then she had never felt as complete as she’s feeling right now.

He fits so perfectly, stretches her up good, and he’s looking at her as if she’s made of diamonds, searching for any sign on discomfort on her face and honestly, having someone care so much like this is bringing her to the edge of tears.

This is not a quick fuck. This is not a we made it out alive kind of celebration. There’s more here, there’s so much more, she can see it in his eyes.

He leans forward, his body covering hers as he props himself up with one arm on her side to keep from crushing her. Staring right into her eyes, he kisses her lips and starts moving. It’s a steady pace at first, as if he’s trying to understand her, trying to see what drives her crazy, what she likes.

Can he be rough?

Can he hold her a little tighter?

Those silent questions are answered when she urges him on, her hands on his shoulder, bringing him down on her so her breasts are flush against his chest and his face is an inch away from hers. He kisses her when he starts moving, feels her breaking into a moan but then respond, moving her hips in accordance to his, but even so she’s letting him lead; he’s the one in control this time around.

So he thrusts slowly, long strokes that make her want to just push him down again and ride him because she thinks he might have made her a little insane here, a little too obsessed. She watches him, his handsome face and its perfect features, then darts her glance down to where they’re both connected, sees him move, sees and feels him pullig back until just the head of his cock is inside, and then he slides in again, repeats the motion again and again until she can’t take it anymore, wraps her legs around his waist and says, “Faster.”

“Yeah?” he asks, still set on that same rhythm, looking for permission, focusing his gaze for one instance at a huge bruise near her hip.

“Please,” she begs in the middle of a kiss. “Please.”

He increases the pace gradually, watches the changes on her face, and when she throws her arms around his neck (all the flinching and wincing still there but to hell with them to hell with them, this means so much more), he finally lets go. His thrusts grow harder and faster, so much so that he accidently slips out, and when that happens he drives her mad by grabbing his cock and rubbing it on her clit for a few seconds, a small tease that earns him some more pretty little moans, his name spilling out of her lips like sugar.

He’s in trouble, he concludes, he’s in trouble. This woman may as well be his everything.

He will drown himself in her if she asks him to.

Lodge himself into her bones.

Never let her go.

If she wants him as much as he wants her.

(and he hopes she does he hopes she does)

When he thrusts back into her, he wastes no time, no more teasing, he moves, feels her nails digging into his flesh, little red moons forming all over his skin, she’s clenching around him and he’s pounding into her so fast and hard the slap from skin against skin is loud enough to reverberate on the walls. Throught it all, he doesn’t break eye contact, no, looks at her as if she’s meant to be worshipped.

Jill is lost in a trance, feeling his cock in and out of her, he’s so big and hard, he’s so perfect, so good, she could stay like this forever and then he hits that spot, that little spot and she clenchs around him and moans, which in turn makes him groan. “Right there,” she says, “Right there, don’t stop, please, just like that.”

Carlos nods, he’s mesmerized, trying to hold back his own release, showering her neck with kisses, licking the salt off of her skin, hips working nonstop. “Fuck,” he says, voice hoarse. “You feel so good. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

She clings to him as if her life depends on it (and god knows it did), she clings to him, their hearts beating in perfect synchrony.

This is meant to be, she thinks, this is meant to be.

His thrusts are even harder now, rocking them back and forth on the bed. He buries his head on the crook of her neck, muffling his groans. She gives up on trying to follow his rhythm, gives up completely, this is too good, too fucking good, she can only take it. She’s so close, he knows, she doesn’t even need to tell him with the way she tightening around his cock, the way her moans are turning into almost sobs, her shaky voice trying to utter a warning, one that he loves so much.

He keeps up the pace while sliding a hand down her body, finding her clit, still a little swollen and sensitive from his earlier ministrations. This time she does cry out, holding on to him. It’s overwhelming; she’s right at the edge and she doesn’t want it to end, fuck, don’t let this end.

He’s losing control, pumping into her, his warm breath on her skin, and when that wave hits her, when her face gets hot and her breathing heavy she asks for one thing, just one tiny thing. “Come with me,” she says. “Come with me, please, please, come with me.”

“Inside you?” and such simple question should sound a lot more like caution than it does in that moment. In that moment though, that simple question is about trust above anything else, and she nods, all desperate and pretty, she nods.

“Inside me,” she orders as he kisses her. “Inside me, it’s okay, fill me up, let me-” her voice breaks when he speeds up the pace. “Let me feel you, I need to feel you.”

He places a hand around her neck, doesn’t apply pressure, just keeps it there and stares at her and fucks her and kisses her and says “I’ll fill you up then, I’ll do it, you’ll be all mine, right, just mine?” he asks in between pants, voice rough and brash and still laced with adoration.

“Just yours.”

She means it.

He thrusts into her with hard, fast, long strokes, and she’s clenching around his thick cock, coming with such intensity that she bites the inside of her cheek to keep from truly screaming.

At the same time, his movements grow erratic, his grunts and groans a lot louder, and then he’s burying himself into her to the hilt and coming deep inside her, breathing so hard he feels like he might pass out.

She holds on to him as they both wait until they can breathe normally again, but he can’t resist kissing her, not when she’s giving him that look, not when he’s so scared of never seeing her again after this that he can feel his bones trembling. After a moment, when the world goes back to existing, he slips out of her and rolls to her side, brings her with him. She’s curled up around him like a cat, and he’s smiling, stroking her hair idly.

“You’re not in pain, are you?” he asks.

Shaking her head, she chuckles. “Sex is one hell of a drug, you know.”

“You’re one hell of a drug.”

“Oh god,” she laughs at the line.

“No, I’m serious. Got me screwed up for life here,” he admits. “Pretty sure I’m addicted.”

It’s quiet for a moment, Carlos is already cursing himself for ruining this. Too blunt. Too blunt and they don’t even know what they’re going to do tomorrow.

But then she looks up at him, and says: “For life is a big commitment.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a man of my word,” he says.

“That’s good to know,” she smiles at him, rests her head on his chest and closes her eyes.

Carlos wraps an arm around her then, holds her tight and close, the stupidest smile decorating his face.

And for the first time in months, Jill sleeps peacefully.

--- a/n: i’m rusty as hell but writing this brought me joy. i dedicate this to my lovely friend @passionedance because holy shit she put up with me gushing about these two a lot. <3 also, i hope everyone is okay and taking care of themselves. <3

[bandaged-writer]

gasoline 02 || dazai

➤ Pairing: Mafia! Dazai x Ability User! Reader

➤ Genre: action, fluff, angst, eventual smut, gore, violence

➤ Warnings: nightmare-ish scenes, minor character death, murder, blood/gore, near death experience

➤ Summary: “How the hell am I supposed to trust the words of a mafioso?” At that, Dazai chuckled. “I don’t lie about these things.”

➤ Word count: 6.1k

➤ Note: this is unedited and not proof-read, we die like men. also, feedback is highly appreciated u.u

➤ previous || next

Pure laughter bounced off the sterile tiles that stretched themselves throughout the entirety of the hospital, the light made beating down on the white tiles and making it seem like they glared at anyone who was daring enough to walk down the hallways of this very building. Naked feet padded along the freshly wiped floor, greeting were thrown from left to right by the two children running around. Numbers instead of a name tag were attached to the hospital robe the two wore.

Nurses, doctors and patients swore that this duo brought some vitality into this heavy place, added some sunshine to a dark job which fought for others‘ life and often lost the battle. These children were more than welcome.

“You’ve got to hurry up [Name] or the nurses won’t have any candy left,“ a girl with short, pitch black hair and grey – almost white – eyes pouted as you struggled to keep up with her pace. The number #2692 was attached to her gown, written in bold numbers. You coughed into your elbow and put your palms on your knees, body slightly bent over as you caught your breath. Two weeks ago, your mother had dragged you to the doctor due to fever, heavy coughing and finding it difficult to breathe; the diagnosis was pneumonia and so, your mother had insisted on transferring you to a hospital. “Sorry, Fuyuko,“ a grin was flashed said girl’s way, her own lips twitching upwards. “You know I’m just starting to recover.“ #7843 was attached to your hospital gown which you had grown to dislike. It was a sad, plain white just like everything else in this place.

Luckily, the nurses were kind and developed a soft spot for Fuyuko and you, always sneaking some candy or leftover dessert from the caféteria. Children weren’t allowed to eat sweets. Sugar would make the dosis of antibiotics useless, the doctors said, but it sounded very sketchy to you. After all, dad also ate gummy bears whenever he got sick, so how true was this statement? How much could you trust them? Maybe, you shouldn’t even think about it.

Dressed in a blue uniform, the nurse handed Fyuko a bag of chips and two small packs of gummy bears. “This will remain our secret, though, okay?,“ she spoke in a hushed voice, her eyes attentive to her surroundings in case a doctor was to come around the corner. The two of you nodded in unison, eyes sparkling with gratitude and the innocence only a child had. “Thank you so much!“

After the small excursion to the nurse, you found yourself sitting on the rooftop of the hospital. The smell of green grass and blooming flowers greeted you, birds tweeted among themselves, singing melodies only mother nature would understand like a language. Bees flew through the air, sun rays caressed your cold cheeks and warmed you up from within your core. Spring was a beautiful season and perhaps your favorite one.

After a long, dead winter, Flora and Fauna came back to life.

Ripping open the bag of chips, Fuyuko sat down on the ground with a dull thud reaching your ears and you followed her example. She gave you a handful of the salty treat, the sound of chips crunching filling your skull which made you wonder why the sound of chewing was so much louder than everything around you. You would have to ask dad about it once you were home again; you didn’t like asking mom for she had..what did people call it, again? A hot temper? Yeah, that was it.

“You know, you never told me what you want to be when you grow up,“ Fuyuko said after wiping some salt off her lips and putting her index finger to her chin in thought. Grey orbs observed your curious gaze, trying to figure out what your dream could be, what would suit you. “Hmm..maybe a vet? Or an actress? Wait no!“ The girl was only taking random guesses without putting any effort into it. “A singer!,“ she exclaimed excitedly and clapped her hands together before she invaded your personal bubble, the tip of her nose almost poking yours. You merely snorted at that and put your hands behind your back, leaning your weight back. “That’s ridiculous, Fuyuko. Besides, you never told me what you want to be, either.“

Suddenly, heat rose to the ravenette’s cheek and tinted her pale skin in a light hue of red like fine dust. Eyes fell to the ground in an almost shy manner, Fuyuko’s entire aura almost seemed scared of what you might say to her answer. After all, she was aiming for a big goal. “Well..I want to become the best surgeon in the world. Even better than my dad.“ A grin adorned Fuyuko’s small face as she shared her vision of a hopefully bright and rosy future before her finger poked you right below your collarbone and above your chest, eyes demanding an answer from you now.

Craning your head back, you gazed up at the snow white clouds passing by above you, hoping that they’d write the answer down for you or send you a sign, a clue, no matter how small it was. You couldn’t remember if you ever had a dream job for the future, nothing had ever piqued your interest nor had you ever been exposed to any job. Dad was always at the office from dusk to dawn, making sure that all the bills could get paid while your mother was at home, taking care of you. You had no idea what your mother worked as, you were scared of asking.

“I think it’s my wish to be happy and loved.“

As soon as your wish was spoken, the world got visibly and audibly distorted. Your surroundings were spinning, rain was poured from the clouds above you and somewhere close by, a thunderstorm was making its way towards your current location. Incoherent words bore into your ears and settled down in your brain, making you clutch your ears and curl in on yourself.

“You need to run.“ It was your father’s begging voice.

“Everything is your fault!“ Your mother’s voice, shouting at you as always.

“You were never loved.“ Was this Dr. Ito? Fuyuko’s dad? You couldn’t tell anymore.

“It would’ve been better if you didn’t exist.“ You didn’t recognize this voice.

You woke up in a cold sweat, hairline drenched and several strands of your locks clinging to your skin. Silent tears ran down your cheeks, your shirt stuck to you like a second skin and your heart felt like it was trying to flee from within your ribcage. Slowly but surely, you took in your surroundings one by one and found comfort in reality.

Sunlight began sliding its way into your room, the clock read six am and nothing was out of the ordinary. Pictures still decorated your walls, the desk remained being a mess from past assignments and the curtains were played with by the wind – you had probably forgotten to properly close the window before you had gone to sleep. Finding tranquility within your own four walls, your heart slowly calmed down and you finally took notice of Yukino’s hand on your shoulder, worry being laced into her delicate face.

“Are you okay? I heard you crying in your sleep,“ the familiarity of her voice made you realize that you had been stuck in a nightmare in the form of a ghost of the past. Never had you ever dreamed about your childhood, never had it ever been that haunting, never had any nightmare made you cry. Perhaps, this was a bad omen – the flowers, yesterday’s confrontation and today’s nightmare. All of these events were too odd, too out of place to be considered unfortunate inconveniences; they were the opposite of serendipity - a zemblanity. „Yeah, I’m good,“ you replied, gaze obviously still shaken and maybe even detached as you worked through the possible meaning of the disaster life presented you on a silver platter like a dessert. „It was just a nightmare.“

Flickering lights, faces of people and the rich green of the trees blurred into one unstable image as your body relaxed into the passenger seat of Yukino’s car. The radio song on the radio, Eight by IU, unfortunately became nothing but buzzing noise in your mind as you still dwelled on the nightmare. A shame really, considering you really liked the song and it was the perfect melody to describe the weather: pleasantly warm with a bit of wind.

Why were you so hung up over a mere nightmare? After all, people dreamed about weird things all the time, some dreams were ridiculous and seemingly held no meaning. Dreams were nothing but a brain’s way to process the events in one’s life - may it be their past or the present. There should be no deeper meaning, and yet, you involuntarily got stuck in a vicious cycle of thoughts upon thoughts which desired to twist your day into a negative one.

“Hey, [Name], we’re here,” Yukino snapped her fingers in front of your face and brought you back to reality within a few moments. A cute pout decorated her face, her dark eyes glowing in the light as she seemed to read your mind. You really couldn’t hide anything from her, could you? “Ah, right, the job interview,” checking your appearance in the rearview mirror, you fixed some wild strands of hair and made sure to look as professional as you could. It was an important job interview which would allow you to finally earn proper money and assist Yukino in paying the bills like you had promised just before you had studied abroad.

Yukino took your hands in hers and a smile graced her face as she looked you straight into the eyes. Maybe this was what sincerity looked like: when one’s eyes were clearer than the ocean with no hidden motives buried beneath pitch black pupils. “Look, I know that your nightmare shook you, but you can’t let it hinder you from bagging this job, got it?” It sounded like she was scolding you much like a mother would when her child had one too many cookies and refused dinner as a result. Cute but to be taken seriously. “You’re more than qualified for this job and deserve it more than anyone else. There’s no way you could possibly fail this,” Yukino’s words were soft and full of trust in your own abilities, a kind of trust you unfortunately didn’t have in yourself. 

“You really always know what to say, don’t you?,” you chuckled to yourself, got out of Yukino’s car and dusted off your jeans, freeing the material of any pollen that might’ve gotten stuck. Receiving her grin as a reassuring reply, your feet confidently carried you to the marketing agency which wanted to desperately hire you.

The interior of the agency was oddly comfortable. Walls were painted in warm tones varying from beige to dark brown, plants decorated the space and gave the entire surroundings the feeling of a huge living room. White and wooden-colored furniture gifted the surroundings a finishing and modern touch.

“Ah, you must be [Name], right?” The lady was probably in her 30s, black hair tied into a neat ponytail and her face covered in light makeup. Her delicate hand reached out to shake yours in a happy greeting, her reddish lips pulled into a professional yet real smile. One could tell she was a genuine person. “Please, follow me.”

And so, you found herself in her bright office, seated in a comfortable, plush chair while the kind lady looked through your resumé another time, her head nodding one or two times. “Miss, your grades are quite impressive and you majored in business, too, I see. This is very good,” at her praise, a nearly sheepish smile graced your features. Truth be told, you hadn’t often received praise since your mother had disappeared when you were 8 and your father died a few years ago due to a car accident. Yukino was the only source of praise and validation. “Thank you so much, miss,” you bowed your head lightly, still smiling. Your life was finally going right.

“May I ask why you decided to study abroad instead of staying here in Yokohama? There are lots of good universities here,” her tone was in no way intrusive, but rather curious - maybe even on a personal level. “Ah, my dad believed the number 20 came along with a bad omen and advised me to discover something new,” there was no way you could tell her the entire truth about a mafia-ish deal, the flowers and the things you had seen the day before. You doubted she would believe you - such things only ever happened in movies, after all. She laughed at that, a pleasant sound, you noticed. “Elders do tend to hold on to such belfies, don’t they? I understand that very well.” The lady put your resumé aside, kind eyes looking at you with joy sparkling in them. You didn’t expect such a kind person to interview you.

“I’m looking forward to working with you, [Name].”

With one less worry weighing on your shoulders, you thanked the lady for her time, assured her you’d work hard and left her office with a proud grin stretching your lips and a confident, happy swing in your hips.

Funny, what such a little, positive event could trigger within a person. It could turn one’s entire day upside-down for the better or worse, but lady luck seemed to be with you today. What a good feeling it was to feel your heart beat as light as a feather.

Yukino was seated on the hood of her car, her sparkling gaze fixated on the entrance of the agency and anxiously waiting for you to come back. She was probably more excited and more optimistic than you could ever be, but that was why she meant so much to you - compared to you, she was like a mitochondria: an entire power house. “You made it, didn’t you?!” The fair-haired woman came running into your arms and greeted you in a tight hug as if you had been gone for years. Happiness radiated off of her like the sun emitted its rays. “Of course, I did!” 

Ushering you into the comfy passenger seat of the car, Yukino suggested a small celebration for your successful interview and that you were finally back home where you belonged. 

“After a year, one might think you would’ve overcome your love for chocolate ice-cream,” stuffing a spoonful of vanilla ice-cream into her mouth, Yukino glared at the icy treat in front of you which was decorated with some strawberries and cherries. Delicious for everyone else but the woman sitting opposite of you. “Hah?! And what about your obsession with vanilla ice-cream? You never change, do you?,” accusingly, you pointed your spoon at Yukino who rolled her eyes in surrender and let out a huff of air. Unfair how you knew your roommate better than the back of your own hand. “Tsk, you win this round. But only because I’m letting you,” Yukino teased with a smirk on her lips and giggling as you gave her a thorough are-you-serious-look. “Whatever makes you sleep at night.”

From that point on, the conversation varied widely but still found its focus on your year spent abroad. After all, you had gotten home late the night before and Yukino didn’t want to bombard you with questions when you’d been obviously tired. Questions about the language and food seemed to pique Yukino’s interest the most as well as the educational system which she didn’t really understand. Well, it didn’t matter anyway. Yukino had long since graduated and didn’t have to understand foreign school systems.

“Okay that sounds nice and all, but did you meet anyone special?”

Gulping down a fair amount of your ice-cream, you nonchalantly shook your head at your friend’s question. It was a waste of time, would hinder your career, you had always said, but maybe, the reason why you never brought anyone home went deeper than that, “you know I’m not interested.” A bowl of finished ice-cream stood in front of Yukino, strong arms crossed over her chest. Pleased looked different. “Jeez, you’re so boring. I bet there are lots of people willing to date you if you give them the chance.” Dating had never been a high priority in your life; with the entire anxiety about your dad’s deal going on, you didn’t want anyone to get dragged into the mess which was your family. It was too much for someone ordinary, you reasoned or maybe it was a lame excuse.

“Anyways,” you bit into a juicy strawberry and let the sweet taste flood your strawberries. Whoever invented fruits deserved to be kissed. “What did you do to the flowers last year?,” it was innocent curiosity since you had never received or saw a bouquet of orange lilies for your 20th birthday. By the time that day came around, you were already abroad, studying and looking for a job in Yokohama for the day you’d finally return. “I gave them back to a bandaged man. He was very kind,” Yukino recalled the memory of a male brunette, very handsome and charming. “I think he’d totally be your type!”

There was only one bandaged man walking the earth of Yokohama and his name was Dazai Osamu who possessed the annoying ability to nullify any other gift - no matter how powerful it was. Everyone would be rendered to a mere human being in front of him.

Your lips were pulled into a straight line. “No, thanks.”

“Ahh, you’re really no fun, [Name]!,” Yukino whined and craned her head back in defeat.

The rest of the day was spent strolling throughout Yokohama and catching up with one another, a bit of teasing and bickering as always. It felt so normal to be back that it was akin to never having left in the first place and maybe, in a way, you felt guilty for leaving Yukino on her own. Yes, she was a grown woman who could stand her ground, but you could still remember how happy she was when you moved in with her and how sad she was when you announced your department for the duration of an entire year. 

Yukino completed you and you completed Yukino.

“You know, you kind of remind me of my grandma’s wrinkly face with that face mask on,” Yukino snickered with the toothbrush in her mouth and some saliva mixed with toothpaste dribbling down her chin. She swore her relative was like a replica of you; according to Yukino, the two of you shared the same height, same hair color and the habit of Being Done with her. Knocking your hip into Yukino’s to scold her, your eyes narrowed ever so slightly as you spoke the next words with a straight face, “I bet I could beat you with a slipper just as well as your granny can, too.”

She spat the remaining toothpaste into the sink, put the toothbrush aside and flicked your mask-covered forehead which earned Yukino a rare pout of yours. She thought it was cute, though. “Aaand that’s why you’re single.”

Internally, you wondered why Yukino was so adamant about you finding a partner. Her bugging was like a mosquito haunting you at night, pestering you whenever you laid back down and flew right by your ear. She had never been too interested in your love life, but maybe her sudden interest arose from the fact that you’d been away for quite some time. Whatever it was, you were sure it’d disappear like smoke in no time.

“You really need some sleep. Maybe then you’ll stop annoying me,” taking the face mask off and tossing the remains into the trash can next to the sink, you basked in the way your skin glowed underneath the pleasant lighting the lightbulb provided. Maybe you should date yourself, you silently thought to yourself. “Well, you definitely do need your beauty sleep or else your face will always remain that wrinkly.”

Why were you befriended with her? You forgot.

The full moon illuminated the dark hallway and offered Dazai enough light to see his surroundings clearly, although he probably knew his way around the mafia’s headquarters, knowing the layout like the back of his hand. Soles of leathered shoes remained silent with every step the brunette took, his black coat offering him some warmth which this entire place severely lacked.

He had just come back from analyzing anomalies happening throughout Yokohama; despite summer reaching slowly reaching its peak, snow had been spotted. Witnesses talked about the temperature suddenly dropping to the point they had to turn on their heater, but apparently the cold never stayed for long. After a maximum of half an hour, temperatures would rise again to their original 30 degree celsius. This certainly wasn’t a funny trick by the weather nor caused by global warming. Although Dazai didn’t know who it was, he was absolutely sure that this was the doing of an unknown ability user.

Was this the story Mori told him about when he was around eight years old?

Before Dazai could continue his train of thought, he pushed the doors to Mori’s office open and was greeted by the mafia’s boss. “I’m glad you could make it this fast, Dazai,” Mori’s lips were pulled into a smile which Dazai could find no trust in. This entire man should never be trusted for no one knew anything about his true intentions; it even took Dazai quite a time of thinking to figure out one of Mori’s schemes. “I was about to try out a new suicide method, too..,” the brunette trailed off like he was saddened by Mori hindering from dying during this sweet, humid night.

Mori got up from his chair, hands folded behind his back and lilac eyes gazing upon the city which the mafia looked over during nights such as this particular one. Neo signs flickered in the distance, traffic lights were still active while cars roamed the streets, making it seem like this town never slept. “I need you to pick someone up by the pier,” always so vague.

Brown eyes were empty as they took in Mori’s posture and form; it seemed like he was looking forward to something if the slight smile and the shimmer in Mori’s eyes were anything to go by. “And who exactly might that be?” Usually, simple tasks like these were done by lower-ranking people like Dazai’s friend Odasaku. Maybe said person was dangerous? Or posed a threat to the mafia? In the end, one couldn’t refuse the boss’s order. “I’m sure you remember our lovely encounter with [Name]. She’ll need the help.”

“Why though? Just yesterday, you basically let her off the hook. It’s unusual for you to be so interested in someone,” Dazai was still analyzing Mori’s motive, but maybe it was a better decision to wait for the tale to unfold and then piece it together bit by bit. The suicidal brunette was smart, but not all-knowing. “I’m just bringing some things into motion,” Mori smiled at the younger man before his gaze fell back upon the city, his fingertips slightly pressed up against the huge window as his mind was calculating possible outcomes for the scenario he had created. “Besides..only fire can break ice.”

Orders were orders and so, Dazai leaves the office of his superior without another word. One thing was clear: Mori needed you to get rid of the ice ability user who was responsible for the anomalies, but the unknown variable was how Mori would convince you to join sides with the mafia. Knowing the boss for the majority of his life, Dazai knew that it’d be something to break you with.

How cruel the man was. Towards such a charming lady, as well.

It didn’t take long for Dazai to find a spot along the pier, his eyes gazing at the moon which was reflected onto the surface of the water. His body leaned against the wall of an abandoned warehouse and he couldn’t help but wonder if it just got a bit colder.

Naked feet padded along the wooden floor, your throat was dry and eyes heavy with sleep as you dragged your body to the kitchen like a sack of rice. No, this time you didn’t wake up thanks to a nightmare, but because you felt like you were dying of thirst and the usually full bottle of water by your bed was empty. You had no choice but to leave the comfortable, warm sheets and go out into the dark unknown aka your kitchen.

“The hell..?,” you mumbled and rubbed some sleep from your eyes as you stepped into something wet and..sticky. Maybe it was water? Did Yukino spill it? No, water didn’t stick to your feet like glue and definitely didn’t smell so overwhelmingly disgusting. Letting your gaze drop, your eyes suddenly widened in horror and you clasped a hand over your mouth in shock.

You stood in a puddle of blood and it came from Yukino’s room.

Suddenly, you were wide awake. “Yukino?!,” you yelled and burst through her door. What greeted you looked like a bloodbath in the form of your best friend who was gasping for air, her dark eyes shimmering with fear and pleading you for something that you couldn’t read. Your mind was too clouded with panic to figure out anything.

You dropped to your knees and ignored the painful crack that followed the hard impact, gathering Yukino up into your arms. Her throat had been sliced, the cut was too deep to cauterize it with your ability and then call an ambulance. Besides, the loss of blood was already immense, the red fluid being easily soaked up by your clothes and staining your skin. Yukino’s body was freezing cold, your body almost instinctively dropped her but your heart refused to obey.

“[Name], please, run,” her breathing was heavy and her chest rose and fell irregularly as her lungs craved the air. She coughed up blood, vision getting slowly blurry as her eyes found crying ones. “Shut up, it’s not your time to die!,” you raised your voice through the tears, put your hand on Yukino’s sliced throat and attempted to cauterize the wound, but the bleeding was too strong and destroyed the small crust that was created. Gently, Yukino placed her cold hand on your heated one and removed the bloody limp from the wound, her dark eyes holding contact with you. “Listen, this person will get you, too,” it got hard to speak. “So please, run and live, [Name].”

Hot tears dropped on Yukino’s face as you took her words in and held her close to your body as if it could somehow save her. “Don’t leave me, Yukino,” your voice was smaller than a mouse, barely above your whisper and more fragile than the thinnest glass. The only good thing you ever had in your life was being taken away from you, slipped through your fingers like water. “I’m sorry I have to leave so early,” Yukino spoke softly and although it was an obvious struggle for her, she smiled up at you and brought a bloody hand to your face.

“I promised to always be by your side. Now I’ll have to watch you from afar,” this wasn’t a mere promise but an honest vow you knew she would never break. Not even at the brink of death did Yukino think of herself or showed fear. Instead, she seemed to come to terms with her fate.

“Please, smile for me, [Name]. It’d be nice if your smile was the last thing I’d get to see.”

Hastily, you wiped the tears away and smiled as your heart shattered in your chest. Tears kept coming and moistened the collar of your shirt, stuck to your cheeks and some even dried on Yukino’s bloodied cheeks. You could feel your best friend’s heartbeat gradually slow down, her eyes fluttered shut as soon as you granted her the last wish.

Heavy sobs tore through your throat, shaky hands hugged Yukino’s head to your chest, your mind refused the harsh reality. “I’m sorry,” you said, gently rocking your body back and forth and repeating the phrase like a broken record which didn’t know any other words.

You’d been sitting in your friend’s blood for minutes and apologizing over and over again until something icy whizzed past you, cutting through the skin of your cheek and drawing blood. A gasp slipped your mouth and you turned around and spotted a masked, hooded person standing outside, a dagger made of ice and drenched in Yukino’s blood in their hand.

Everything happened way too fast. The unknown person came dashing through the opened window, grabbed you by the throat and tossed your body into a tree, effectively knocking the air out of your lungs and making splinters dig into your back. “Why did you do this?!,” you screamed at the stranger in front of you but it was the same as talking to a wall: you got no reply. The person opened their palm, ice bullets appearing out of nowhere and it dawned on you that Yukino’s words were true. You were this monster’s next target and probably their main objective for a reason you could only hope to figure out. Several of these bullets sped towards you, but you managed to melt them with a controlled wall of fire building up in front of you.

There was no way you could fight this person in this area. Houses filled with families surrounded you and at this rate, the neighborhood would either be frozen or burned down along with the people. In a panic, your mind decided to let you run towards the pier which wasn’t too far away but would certainly let you fight against whoever was behind that mask. 

Sticks and stones hurt the soles of your feet or banged against your ankles painfully, the lack of air you could inhale hurt your lungs and not to mention the emotional pain of Yukino’s death. Everything hurt you and all you wanted was to break down and cry, but this wasn’t an option when your own life was on the line. 

Somehow, you managed to dodge several attacks and you silently thanked whatever deity was watching over you for letting you reach the pier.

Abruptly you came to a stop, sand squeezing itself between your toes and your skin dyeing the sand in a hue of red. Your eyes scanned the area for a hooded figure lurking within the shadow, but found nothing but ordinary trees, bushes and an owl catching a mouse. Just before you could lull yourself into a false sense of safety, a sharp pain penetrated your abdominal area and cold flooded your veins instantly. “You little..,” the person was faster than you anticipated; the stranger had shown up out of nowhere and only waited for you to make a mistake so they could stab you with a knife made of ice which disappeared into tiny snowflakes.

Silent as always, the unknown person pushed you into the river and left you to drown.

The pain coursing through every fiber of your being was overwhelming, but the wound wasn’t as deep as it might seem, despite the blood loss you experienced. You pressed your hand into the stab wound and let the limb heat up until the heat stopped the bleeding; this was only a temporary solution and would not last very long, however.

The current of the river was strong and pulled you along or even pushed you down several times, making your attempt at getting air seem futile which it was. You were so close to reaching the surface, so close to finally breathe again until your palm hit a thick layer of ice which you couldn’t punch or cut through. It was a truly futile attempt.

Crap, you mentally cursed your luck and the stranger for having thought so far ahead, though it shouldn’t come as a surprise. The predator should always be one step ahead of their prey, after all. Your fist collided with the ice a few times, the lack of air slowly got to you and forcing you inhale nothing but the salty water surrounding you - you had no chance but to hurry up.

It took you several moments to heat up a majority of your body thanks to the much colder water, but soon, the liqiuid began bubbling around you and the layer of ice began cracking. Just a bit more. You pushed your palms flat against the ice and let the limbs catch fire to finally push through the ice which had nearly buried you.

At once, the ice shattered and found its way back into the warm water as snowflakes. 

Exhausted and injured, you dragged your body to the nearest shore where you coughed up a curious mix of water and blood, your wound reopened at the force. You pressed both of your hands to your injury, dried lips parting ever so slightly as you began panting out of pain. The sound of rustling clothes drew your attention and you expected that stranger to show up once again, but instead, you caught sight of a black coat being thrown your way and a pair of shoes.

“Looks like someone did quite the number on you,” Dazai had his arms crossed over his chest as he took in your ruined form. Blood drenched you from head to toe, some water was probably still stuck in your lungs and not to mention that you almost drowned underneath that blanket of ice. “Shut up,” you snap at the brunette and immediately paid the price. Blood pooled in the back of your throat and snuck its way out with the help of an ugly cough. The taste made you cringe, pain made you curl in on yourself.

“You know you could get this treated if you joined the mafia,” Dazai spoke matter of factly and caught the menacing glare of yours before your eyes could fully develop it. You didn’t even have the time to protest. “It seems like we’re both looking for the same person now. Unless you really don’t want to and would rather die,” you honestly weighed your options, mind swaying between a tempting offer and the want to escape this very real nightmare. Helplessness and despair quickly grew where your heart shattered, making a perfect ground for anger to grow in - not towards the brunette in front of you, but towards yourself for being so weak.

You reach for the coat in front of you and tightly tie the article of clothing around your waist to slow down the bleeding, letting Dazai help you up to your feet. One bandaged arm was wrapped around your waist to keep you steady, his free hand pulled your arm across his shoulder. Dazai was warm, you noticed and unconsciously leaned into the man.

“I can’t understand how your beauty almost managed to die unlike me!,” the man whined and a pout found home on his lips. Dazai couldn’t understand how he always managed to fail, yet someone who did not wish for death, and was very beautiful, almost gained that sweet kiss of death he’d been chasing for so long. “What are you? A suicidal dumbass?,” you smirked as Dazai feigned overdramatic hurt over your comment. He was almost..comedic. “I can’t believe a lovely lady came for my neck like that! Unbelievable how such tender lips can spit such venom right into my poor heart!”

As the apparently suicidal man continued his rambling, you couldn’t help but notice how incredibly convenient his appearance was. Your mind quickly came to the conclusion that it was his doing. “Why the hell are you exactly here?,” you questioned sharply, your voice left no room for any playfulness or jokes. It didn’t surprise you when Dazai dropped the theatrical facade of his and switched to a more serious persona within the blink of an eye. He was serious, yet his face looked genuine.

“I know you must think that I planned the death of your friend, but I assure you I was only told to show up at a certain place to save a certain, stunning lady.”

Nevermind, he wasn’t serious.

“How the hell am I supposed to trust the words of a mafioso?”

At that, Dazai chuckled.

“I don’t lie about these things.”

You wonder how much you could trust him and decided to be wary, instead.

[foreficfandom]

Mystic Messenger - Interior Decorating Preferences (Living With MC)

— Zen —

Being a famous stage actor unfortunately doesn’t lead to heaps of cash, so even after establishing his career, Zen stayed in his garden unit for several years. You and him made the best of the place for as long as you could - brightening up the dankness with cheery lighting, making sure everything was clean - but eventually the tiny, cheap apartment wore out its welcome and the two of you decided that enough moldy air was enough. 

Your new place was larger, newer, and located in a better neighborhood. Rent was more than twice the amount, which sometimes puts a strain on the books, and Zen also had to rent a separate parking space for his bike. But it was just a cheerier place. Both you and Zen began feeling the effects of a better ventilated, better lit home, and it energizes the both of you. The extra money was worth it. 

While moving, Zen decided to dump most of his old furniture, keeping only the flatscreen and a table or a lamp. The new apartment was decorated with new couches and cushions, cabinets, mirrors, curtains and rugs. Zen had a surprisingly nuanced taste for interior decorating, and sought out decor with modern, smooth metal and muted grey colors.

Before, Zen lived with a mishap match of cheap furniture that clashed with each other and gathered dust as the years went by. Now, with a new place, you and Zen took the opportunity to really turn the apartment into a home. 

He loved keeping the house brightly lit. Curtains were almost always drawn to let in the natural sun, and there were multiple lamps in every room to brighten up every corner. Sometimes, if a production was generous enough, Zen was allowed to take home one of the props as a gift. So the apartment was eventually decorated with several unique pieces, all mementos from his work. 

He loves seeing the splashes of color dotting his brightly lit home, especially if you’re there to enjoy it with him.

— Yoosung —

It takes a while to move out of the dorms. He finishes his degree two years into you dating him, but before that point he had very little space to live in. His dorm didn’t have a kitchenette nor a shower, though luckily he didn’t have to deal with a roommate. 

Any decorations he had were haphazard and cheap - a character mug for his pencil holder, a bedding set from Target, and other things typical for a full-time college student. His furniture belonged to the dorm, and there was quite a bit of clutter scattered around. Whenever you came over to visit, you would trip over things like random plastic figurines from vending machines. 

After graduating, he moves back with his parents like many young people in Asia. But he really wanted a place of his own as soon as possible, mostly due to your influence. He didn’t want to awkwardly balance his family life with your availability. So after saving up from his internships, he found his first legit apartment to rent.

It was small, old, and the best he could find on such a small income. But it wasn’t bad, per se. Just needed some sprucing up. So that’s what he decided to do; actual decor, now, instead of cheap junk. Furniture from IKEA, legit bedding and curtains. It was important that you saw him as a budding adult, instead of some college kid.

He always loved bright colors and cheery imagery. Some of it kinda clashed, if you were totally honest. But he loved how it gave his home a slightly artsy twist. 

And he still enjoyed his character merch, just not as vigorously as he did before. His desk was no longer covered in old acrylic keychains and plastic charms, but the tissue box on the dresser was decorated with characters from one of his favorite animes. 

Above all, he loved how his space wasn’t an embarrassment to show you, anymore. Quite the opposite, in fact. Every corner held evidence of how much he’s grown. And you were there to share it with him. 

— Jaehee —

Before you came into the picture, her apartment was kinda threadbare. She spent so little of her time there, she couldn’t really decorate the space to her liking. Although her work at C&R earned her an impressive paycheck, you couldn’t see any real evidence of it amongst her home. 

Except for her technology, which she was happy to splurge on. A large plasma TV, the latest Kureig model, a snazzy smartspeaker. Plus, her furniture was brand-name. If it wasn’t for Jaehee herself living there, you could almost believe this apartment was some sort of photoshoot studio - perfectly decorated and sterile. 

After leaving C&R and starting a cafe with you, she finally had time to really invest in her home. And she took it by storm, not just buying tasteful wall art and coordinated throw rugs, but also contracting people to install new granite to the kitchen countertop and re-modeling the entire bathroom. 

She and you had a real eye when it came to decor. It took an entire day set aside to tour furniture stores when it came time to buy new floor lamps, or accent tables. You compared prices on your phone, she agonized over color swatches and metal finishes. 

And she switches up things pretty rapidly. She’ll buy these chic polished metal salt-and-pepper shakers for the kitchen, and two months later she’ll decide they’re too plain so she’ll bring home a dyed blue glass set, only to eventually think they’re too tacky.

All the colors are warm, sometimes dim and cozy, sometimes brightly lit. Antique gold and brass in the kitchen, warm pearls in the bathrooms, buttercup yellow decorating the bedsheets.

No longer was her apartment an oppressive, lonely place that money couldn’t fix. She had a home now; under her feet, and also within you. 

— Jumin —

Now, the images of Mystic Messenger don’t give us the full tour of Jumin’s skyline penthouse studio, but if they did we’d all be shook. ‘Cause his place is no fucking joke, its literally one of the top ten most expensive homes of South Korea.

 It’s located atop an 85-floor skyscraper, and takes up the entire floor with a 20,000 square feet span. It boasts four bathrooms, two kitchens, three separate lounge areas, and crazy expensive architecture. That vertical fish tank next to his Wyoming-size king bed is only the beginning of the luxury that surrounds this man’s abode. 

Even after months of living with him, Jumin surprises you by pointing out some decadent part of the apartment you had missed. Like the jacuzzi settings on one of the bathtubs, or how the massive span of windows can be tinted using a remote. He had lived the life of a millionaire for so long, he got used to these sorts of things. 

You, on the other hand, are constantly charmed and even overwhelmed by the decadence. Half the wine in his personal cellar cost more than your college tuition. You couldn’t help but just, lap up this ridiculous palace, at times. It was really something to wake up to carved marble tiles, crystal lamps, and designer furniture every day. 

When you moved in, Jumin soon began considering buying a larger place, because to him the massive studio was ‘too small for two people’ and you had to quickly stop him before he bought a literal estate. True, the interior decorating had already been carefully furnished with only Jumin as the sole resident in mind, but bit by bit, your personal touches began gracing his home. 

Like your closet became your closet, both lounges were slowly re-decorated with your own personal tastes in color and decor, your little knick-knacks found their way upon bookshelves and countertops, Jumin’s luxury dishware now included your favorite decorated mugs and cute kitten ramen bowl.

And those touches are what finally made Jumin feel like his apartment was a home. All the luxury in the world couldn’t buy this coziness. 

— Saeyoung —

The man is a dirty, rowdy boy who pays almost no attention to maintaining his habitat. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have an aesthetic, though. He buys the top-of-the-line technology with colored LED lights and polished marble surfaces. There’s so much color surrounding his bunker, you can almost forget you’re twenty feet underground. 

Seriously, sometimes it’s like a rave. His triple-door smartscreen fridge is lit with deep blue blacklights, his bathroom mirror is backlit with a chrome rainbow spectrum that shifts colors, the ceiling light of his bedroom is this big circular fixture that mimics different planets with a push of a remote. 

But he only pays attention to decor he’s interested in. So when it comes to his couches, his dining table, his bedframe? He just outsourced it to designer brands and picked the most generic, modern-style ones they had. To keep it even more simple, it’s all a boring black color. And many of it is part of the same collection - you noticed that the dining chairs, the coffee table, and the barstools are all the same design. 

And no, he’s doesn’t clean after himself. He really doesn’t have the heart nor time to, especially before meeting you. So there’s food crumbs in the crack of his office chair, loose clothing in random places on the floor and tossed over chairs, and product bottles thrown haphazardly amongst the bathroom. 

When you came into the picture and saved him from the agency, his work racketed down by a huge margin. No more working 52 hours at a stretch without sleep, no more entire weeks spent fearing for his life if he didn’t finish a job. This left more time and energy to step it up a bit and stop being such a slob. Mostly for your sake, if he was being honest. 

Almost all of the fancy tricked up stuff in his apartment was his own doing. And once he had more free time, there was even more of it. So enjoy your voice-activated desk lamp with bluetooth and 30 different color settings, that was just an afternoon project and he’s got something even better for the two of your’s anniversary!

— Saeran —

Unlike his brother, Saeran actually values cleanliness and a good living space. Partially due to his bad immune system and how a clean environment can make a big difference in his health, and partially because that’s just the kind of guy he is. He had his own room in Mint Eye, which was tastefully decorated under his own hand with antiques and art statement pieces. Decorating his room was one of the few opportunities he had to express himself. 

Once he escaped Mint Eye and began living with you, it took many months to regain some assemblance of a normal daily life, and one of the first steps was to retrofit his living space into a safe, encouraging home. 

With your help, the two of you planned out everything with the intention of creating a haven of sorts. He still wanted his antique aesthetic and romantic colors, but now there was technology that encouraged communication with the outside world. Now, the curtains were pulled to reveal an exciting, open world right on the doorstep.  

The antique interior complimented his flowers very well. ‘Cause flowers and plants are a constant fixture in the home. Sometimes, its cut flowers arranged in a Regency-era glass vase, but mostly they’re potted flowering plants. Huge ones in the living room, or tiny ones on accent shelves, or the several window planters you and he maintained with love and care.

As he regained his confidence, the apartment showed his progress. He began going out to buy things on his own, without needing you to accompany him. And the things he brought back were sometimes ... weird, but oddly charming, like a mounted authentic Viking drinking horn, or a framed poster of a map from a fantasy video game. 

He just ... enjoyed these odd things. His life was so free now, which meant he could go out and be weird and enjoy these weird things without anything holding him back. You proudly displayed all of these trophies, all evidence of Saeran’s healing.  

— Jihyun —

It’s canon that Jihyun’s apartment in-game was mostly fitted to Rika’s wishes, not his own. We don’t really see it, but if the photo panned out more we’d see pale, birchwood accents and light linen fabric. Everything bright, and lit with white lights. Almost all of it Rika’s influence.

When he and you found a new apartment, Jihyun wanted to take this opportunity to establish himself more, this time. So instead of that pure, untouched look, he added more color in washes of warm leathers, brushed metal, and natural lighting. 

It was worldly, for lack of a better term. Lots of mementos from his time traveling, all adding dimension to the living space. A woven Navajo basket from New Mexico, a large print replica of a page from the Book Of Kells, a bronze modern art sculpture from an emerging Indian artist. 

And the furniture themselves were uniquely artistic, too. Jihyun one day brought home new earthy-brown decorative cushions, bought from a company that produced textiles dyed using food waste scrap. He went to a warehouse auction for authentic, obscure antiques, and graced the living room with a richly red bubinga-wood rocking chair from 1950′s Germany. 

Funnily enough, as graceful of a man he is, he can sometimes be a bit too tacky in his choice for decor. He tried to argue for fake exposed-brick wallpaper as an accent wall, which you had to shoot down. More than once, he showed you a new art piece about to be sold at a new gala that he wanted to go bid for, and the particular piece was just ... too esoteric or even gaudy to be displayed. 

Jihyun just loved to feel like he could be himself. And he loved how you encouraged this new life of his. An actual home, now, free from his family or Rika. True love can only blossom under freedom, and that’s what this home represented for him. 

[writingsofmyimagination]

Game Night

@local-alicia sent me this request:

Could you perhaps write a smut where y/n is having a sleepover with the maknae line and things get out of hand?

So this request I took as ‘things get out of hand with all of them’ :P So of course for a one shot this means there’s definitely some crack and some Ho behaviour; but it was super fun to write... so thank you and hope you enjoy!

Maknae Line x Reader (Sleepover AU)

Genre: Smut, slight crack :P

Rating:18+

Words:2889

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (Oral F receiving, implied M receiving, penetrative sex, thigh riding, tiny tiny bit of throat compressing), mentions of alcohol, spilt nachos (the tragedy).

Enjoy :)

“Hey!” you whined as Tae shoved you in dramatic victory when the kill scores finally came up on the screen.

“You only got two more than me, not exactly a sliding victory” you defended re-calibrating your cross legged position on the sofa.

“A victory’s a victory” he rightly stated beaming that beautiful smug box smile at you, recently washed fluffy chestnut hair draping over his forehead like an ethereal waterfall.

“Fine, snack break?” you’d let him have this round, confident in your ability for the rematch. Tae offered you a hand pulling you up. The douche purposely pulling you too hard flinging you sliding across the wood floor, your socks acting as perfect catalysts. You stopped yourself going any further by grappling onto the divider wall behind the flat screen

“Dick!” you bit, sticking your tongue in his direction in retaliation.The kitchen was neat and open, a large rectangular black marble topped island surround by a few bar stools. Your first mission, find the popcorn. You had a selection of white cupboards above the sides to choose from, your silent hesitation cried for assistance.

“Third cupboard” Tae directed with his head as most of his body was shielded behind the silver door of the fridge, the light illuminating the shine of his brown hair.

“You guys never put stuff in the same place twice” you complained, crinkling of the plastic wrapper from the popcorn, the butter aroma quickly rising to you.

“You really expect us to be organised?” The chip and dip was now joining the box of popcorn on the island.

“Fair point” you agreed beeping in the three minutes on the microwave leaving the pair of you with just the whirring and slow popping starting.

“When will the others be back they know its game night right?” leaning against the island.

“Yeah, you know what those two are like with their dance practice, they shouldn’t be late”

“Well that depends if Jungkook has a shower there doesn’t it”

“You know what, I’ll message them” he announced, you chuckled lightly.

“You’re so pretty when you smile” the camaraderie in his tone had dissipated and all that was left was a sincere compliment.

Weird, this is soo…

Before you’d even shoved your thoughts into order you were pressed against the counter, willingly wrapping your arms around his neck welcoming his lips to yours with an intensity out of nowhere. You didn’t fight any of it fully surrendering, his body pressing to yours. His hands fighting their way under your shirt. His hands traced your outline fingers dancing delicately on your skin.

“No bra?” he breathed taking the easy access in his stride.

“It’s a sleepover night, got to be comfy… easier to beat you” you breathed, suppressing the moans in your throat both of your lips twisted up into a smirk against each other

“How’s that working out for you” his raspy voice replied at your ear

“Its..” your head rolled back, answer hindered by the hand that had trickled down under the waistband of you trackies

“Feels like you like losing” he acknowledge through an impressed exhale at your neck. A faint click reached your ears, a small warning. The pair of you parted; quickly! Launching yourself away from each other. In the fluster and scurry all the tortilla chips scattered across the tiled floor.

“Shit! You exclaimed

“Easy Y/N you started drinking without us?” Jungkook toyed, holdall on his shoulder tugging his oversized black tee revealing the prominent defined collar bones

Stop!

“No, this idiot just thought he’d be funny and tackle me” His eyes grateful for the save while yours told him to sort himself out.

“Honestly Tae, think of the chips” Jimin added filing in after Jungkook slumping his bag at the door.You took an interlude to the popcorn duty and found yourself down on the floor cleaning up the mess, side eyeing Tae disappear to his room.

“Hope you’re ready” Kook checks collecting various bottles of alcohol from the cupboard, clanging them on the side.

“Hope YOUR ready, I swear if you shoot me this time just once. You’ll wish you never been respawned” Jungkook seems to have an ‘accidental’ habit of shooting you despite all of you campaigning on the same team. He’s never quick enough to hide the smirk that grows seconds before he pulls the trigger.

“I’ll do my best” he chuckles.The bass of the sound bar reverberated through the room in a dull boom as Jimin booted up all the sound systems. Tae emerged swamped under multiple duvets, chucking them on the floor before shuffling to fold them and create a comfy space in front of the TV.

“I guess I should go grab some more chips from the shop before we start, and don’t even say they are fine Jeon Jungkook, that’s gross”

“Fine but I’ll come with you”

“I’m more than capable of carrying some tortillas”

“You say that” he motioned his hands to the bin

“Besides the walk will be more fun with me”

“Fine” playfully rolling your eyes for him to see. Genuine lights sparked up from behind eyes as he bounced and grabbed his shoes.

//

The air was surprisingly warm given the 7pm time, everywhere was still bright and a low energy breeze caught you pleasantly as you strolled towards their apartment behind the security gates.

“I reached a new bicep curl PB” Jungkook beamed as we approached a door labelled ‘Gym’ prompting this new development. The hall way was carpeted a light royal blue, the walls papered a pale beige adorned with a more silvery beige pattern of fancy floral design. More like a feature wall than a hallway one but the luxury mirrored the apartment’s status.

“Yeah? Even the 30kg weight I set you?” your tone pitching at the end. He nodded.

“Prove it” you challenged, enabling Jungkook’s pride. It was cute, so you were happy to humour him. He beamed as he typed in the code on the door; thankfully the gym was empty. You followed him past the spotless cardio equipment to the free weights area. Plonking yourself and the carrier down on one of the benches your eyes following his every move as he thinned his layers down to just his t-shirt rolling the sleeves up for maximum bicep view. You certainly wasn’t going to complain.

“I thought you were showing me your bicep curl” you’d watched him step over to the next area with nothing but blue mats and sat himself down

“Warm up push ups”“Oh I see” you lightly chucked mildly unimpressed. His form was perfect, back straight, going low enough and legs straight. He made them look so easy.

“Get on my back” he ordered in his soft tone, smile making it hard to respond in turn.

“What?”

“Sit on my back” he said again. You made your way over to him with hesitant steps.

So they ARE easy for him

You exchanged amused glances, two people unsure of where this was going. You slid off your shoes and did as you were told.

“Mmm higher, more in the centre of my shoulder blades” he instructed adjusting to your weight.

“Here?”

“Perfect, try and keep your weight all in your body and not in your legs so much, ready?”

Nope

Your right hand was pressed at the base of his neck the other was screwing his shirt up within your fist for any type of support. The ripple of his muscles did not go unnoticed beneath you, the room was silent, just his concentration and his controlled breathing as he slowly lowered and pushed you back up a few times; you giggled as you wobbled slightly. He followed suit his concentration and strength breaking as he collapsed under you. You fell backwards tumbling half on the mat, your legs nearly clipped his head. He shuffled onto his back in beat while you quickly found your way to your knees.

“So you’re not THAT good then” you toyed

“You distracted me” he countered, his hair half covering his forehead in a messy picture framing his face.

“You asked for it!” you protested smacking his side. Before you could retreat you hand was gripped in his. You followed his pull caving in to where he wanted you.

What is with these boys today. Why am I not complaining? what is wrong with me?

“Can I ask for this now?” so innocently spoken, like a puppy asking for your last biscuit and not palming you through your loose trackies;

“Think you need to be more specific” you teased greedily rolling in to his palm biting your lip through a smirk stifling a moan. Your body flushed with adrenaline, you needed some kind of relief especially after earlier. You took his hands at your mercy pinning them above him your hips rolling being greedy for all the contact of his bare thigh, shorts had been pushed up slyly on purpose by yourself. His eyes latched onto your movement

“Don’t go shy on me now Kook!” you teased nudging his head to the side stealing a gasp, lips nipping at his collar bone.

“I want this” he breathes

“I want to see you fuck yourself on my thigh” hips grinding harder for a stroke.

“Yeah?”

“Mmmhmm”

“But I want to feel you” he added, you’d do anything for those eyes, hazel shimmering pools of lust right now so you slipped off your trackies.

“And the rest” he added eyes greedy transfixed on your underwear falling to the floor. The direction of your focus however was on the door.

“No one comes in here at this time, trust me!” oddly you did, if anyone was going to know the extent of the gyms usage it was him.You both unanimously groaned at the contact

“Good?” you breathed holding your hips motionless

“Feels really fucking good” Your hands found their way underneath his shirt and your nails lightly indented at his chest, you damn well wanted to feel those muscles tensing underneath you. This was clearly a thing for the pair of you.

Your hips took no time in finding the perfect rhythm, the way his eyes stared at down at his thigh watching every movement. His eyes beautifully blown out often switched up to you watching your face crease in pleasure. Seeing his face crease equally was a sight you wanted etched in your mind; the small breathy groans tied your stomach in knots adding to the build-up you could feel in your core.When your hips started pushing harder into him happily gaining momentum chasing your high he threw his hands pressing into your sides stopping you.

“I want to be tasting you when you cum” Supporting you with one hand he had you on your back, tracing down your body with kisses gently nipping your breasts. You pressed your hips up to him when his mouth covered your clit hands tangling in his soft long hair.His tongue flat licking the length of your folds before honing his attention to your throbbing bud. Sucking lightly before going side to side in rapid movements, simultaneously thrusting a finger into you

“Jesus Jungkook” you cried. He hardly faltered only stopping a few frustrating times to catch his breath.

“Right there, god don’t stop”

You bucked your hips harder against his tongue and stilled his head gripping tighter in his hair as the sweet pulses surged oxytocin through you. He carried on applying pressure until the aftershocks had finally stopped.

“We better get back” his chin glistening with his work, satisfied smirk plastered at his lips.

“I don’t think so” you disagreed pressing up onto your elbows pulling his chain having him captured in a kiss.

“You are not going anywhere until I’ve sorted that” head looking down at the bulge in his shorts

//

“Seriously where have you guys been, we’re snack deprived wasting away here!” Taehyung moaned, pausing the race Jimin and him were competing in.

“One that’s not dramatic at all is it, two we just got chatting on the stairs, sorry” poker face level pro.

//

Finally managing to beat all the boys in the arena mode! You’d spent months coming second to JK, victory was definitely sweet. It was standard on game nights to finish with a film, after much procrastinating on Netflix you’d finally agreed on Thor Ragnarok. None of them ever stayed awake for the whole thing. It wasn’t strange for you to cover them with blankets, they were dead adorable when they were sleeping. Another bonus of this was there was three beds free for you to choose from. Like the old Goldilocks story you always went for Jimin’s because his was the softest. It was like sinking into a marshmallow, absorbing you to sleep the moment your head hit the pillow.

Nudged awake by the feeling of the bed depress beside you. A gentle smile adorning your lips feeling him slowly creep up so his chest was flush against your back. Head nuzzling into the back of your neck; you shuffled back into him, grinding once your ass into his crotch. Big mistake, but not really.

Taking this as a que he ground back, this carried on until you felt him grow hard against you and the warmth began to pool in between your legs and your breaths had become more audible. His hand travelled underneath your shirt, exploring your skin. Leaving a trail of goose bumps up to your chest, kneading them still pressing into you from behind. Nipples perked with him rolling them in between his fingers. His warm breath fanning your neck in between the wet firm kiss at the top of your shoulder and the side of your neck. He pulled your hips more into him, legs slightly widening allowing him access to the top of your waistband. The tease ran his fingertips along your inner thigh upwards avoiding where you needed attention.

“Please, stop teasing” you whined in a whisper.

“But it’s fun” you rolled your head. He carried on teasing driving you insane; until you couldn’t take it anymore. You grabbed his hand and forced it onto your core. You moaned rolling your head forward into the pillow, his moaned dragged from yours.You left your hand resting on top of his as he took over circling your clit, only stopping to tease his fingers at your entrance. Enticing you to want more than his hand. Pulling his hand away, turning to him enveloping your hand either side of his head and pulling into you, kissing him with everything you could.  He rushed, desperately clambering on top you. Knee in between your legs giving you something to have contact with.

“God I can’t wait to fuck you” he panted scrambling both of your t-shirts off.

“Please, hurry up!” you whined still quietly conscious of the noise; disturbing the other boys.Bottoms discarded somewhere on the floor. Nipping at your neck, collar bone and your hand gripping round him in an attempt to hurry him up.

“So impatient” he smirked.

“Mmmhmm” you breathed. Following your wishes he finally lined himself up at your entrance.

“Beg!” he asked. Forehead against yours moans mixing in between you.

“Serious?”

“Yep”The teasing of his cock at your entrance rendered you way more than happy to beg.

“Fuck Jimin, please fuck me, I can’t wait to feel you inside me. Need to cum around your cock” you pleaded.

“Jesus didn’t know you could be so sexy with your words” approving thrusting into you. Your cry was uncontrolled and loud. One which tugged hard at Jimin’s pleasure centre. As much as he wanted to see how loud he could make you; he did not want the others to know, tarnishing his innocence. His hand lightly pressing against your mouth.

“As much as I wanna make you scream, you gotta be quiet baby” you nodded, completely agreeing.His hand slid down from your mouth, your moans sheltered as best you could. His hand gently compressing at your throat. Your head rolled back louder moans escaping. He just felt so good and the compression on your throat blew your mind, making your thoughts cloudy and blissfull. More moans escaped you, his brows knitting together leaving you empty and clenching around nothing.

“On your front, if you can’t be quiet at least the bed will absorb some of it” he rushed passing you a pillow to put under your hips. You lifted yourself onto your elbows only to be shoved face deep in the sheets. Good thing as he thrust back into you, fists curled in the linen, angling your head directly into the bed. Any cries now muffled.

“Much better” he grunted, hands planted at your hips keeping them secure. The angle he was hitting your sweet spot had all of your muscles at your core taking a heated run up to your release.

“You gonna cum for me baby?” the words had you clenching tight around him resulting in him choking out ‘baby’ and leaning forward more onto you. Lifting your head up from your hair as he re-stabilised.

“Fuck..Jimi…yes” You were gone. Seeing stars convulsing around him. Jimin’s hips jerked into you cursing your name.

“Please can this happen every game night” he panted crashing beside you on the bed.