#quois dni

[space-sabotage]

damn, who knew being anti-endo would be on the same level as being racist or transphobic?

pack it up poc and transgender systems, the endos are taking you too

[formulaforza]

—if walls could talk

some things are meant to be secret (we'd fall from grace) pairing: charles leclerc x female reader warnings: 18+ minors dni. loadsss of google translated french. language, friends talking about sex, nsfw warnings under the cut :) love, mackie... 6.3k words! sometimes the only person who can help you out is a good friend. happy almost thanksgiving to all my american followers :) thankful for each and every one of you. mwah mwah mwah.

18+ because: fingering, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, aftercare, mentions of hookups/faking it

You’re the last one to walk through the door of Charles’ apartment. Everyone else has been long comfortable, leaving imprints on the comfortable couch, footprints in the freshly-vacuumed rug, empty wine bottles and half-empty glasses on the coffee table. 

There’s always something so cold about his apartment—always empty, always dusty, filled with the remnants of his boyhood and the promise of his adult life. It has all the makings of a home, but it still feels like a house—like a museum instead of a secondhand shop. Always, except on days like tonight, when it’s filled with warm laughter and the smell of half a dozen different meals and the quiet hum of his favorite playlist. On days like today, it feels like a home. 

Nobody in the living room hears you open the door or slip off your shoes—they’re too preoccupied in their busy, lively conversation about a road closure on the way to the airport in Nice that adds twenty minutes on to the drive. You move in the opposite direction, towards the kitchen, to set your crowd offering—blue cheese stuffed shrimp—on the counter and get a wine glass from the cabinet to fill. He’s in the kitchen when you turn the corner, carefully examining the platter of Italian meatballs he’s got cooking in the oven. 

Charles looks up as soon as you set the heavy plate down on the counter. “Hé!” Hey, he greets, closing the oven door and pulling off his blue mittens to properly kiss both of your cheeks, a single arm wrapping around your middle to pull you into a quick hug. “Quand es-tu arrivé?” When did you get here?

“Tout à l'heure,” Just now, you reply, roll up the sleeves of your shirt because his kitchen is so small, and heats up so quickly when the oven is on. “Désolé, je suis en tard,” Sorry I’m late.

“T'es pas en tard,” You’re not late, he interjects, dragging a tortilla chip through someone’s dip and popping it into his mouth. With his other hand, he’s reaching into the cabinet above his head, pulling down a wine glass and handing it to you. 

“Je suis très en tard,” I am so late, you smile, take the empty wine glass with a thank you and follow suit with your own chip in the fame dip. “Je reviens directement du travail. Les crevettes sont restées dans le réfrigérateur du bureau tout l'après-midi,” I came straight from work. The shrimp sat in the office fridge all afternoon, you explain, and he scowls, raises his brows at you and at the shrimp. You chuckle, nod.  “N'en mangez pas,” Don’t eat it. 

His eyes are stuck on your cheek, which forces your hand to investigate what he might be staring at. “Quoi?” What? You ask, fingers coming up with nothing but an embarrassed heat. 

“Rien, juste... tu as un cil,” Nothing, just… you have an eyelash, he lets a sharp exhale leave through his nose, “je l'enlèverai,” I’ll get it, and then he does. Carefully, with the pad of his middle finger, he picks the eyelash from your cheek. You don’t look at him while he does it, but you are watching when he transfers it to his thumb and drops it onto the platter of shrimp with a quick flick. “Oh, non,” he feigns concern, grabs the platter from the counter, “Allons juste…” Let’s just… he laughs and holds the plate over the trash can and drops the shrimp into the plastic bag with a thump. 

“Bon appel,” good call, you laugh. 

He drags you into the living room, towards the rest of the evening festivities, with his arm tossed over your shoulder. Between that, and the whole let me get your eyelash thing minutes earlier, you’re as close to certain a person can get that he and his girlfriend are still broken up.

They go through phases, the two of them. She doesn’t like your friend group very much, and Charles doesn’t seem like he likes her all that much, but they come and go like seasons. Together one month, broken up the next week. He usually tells you, but even when he doesn’t, you usually know. He’s always touchier with you when she’s out of the picture. Not that you mind it, but. He is. 

It’s all a little more comfortable, like you’re both a little less aware of the fact that you’re the only girl in the group who isn’t spoken for, or that you’re both atrociously the other’s type.

“Regarde qui j'ai trouvé,” Look who I found, Charles announces, and you’re met with a spattering of greetings, plopping down onto the couch, slotting between Marta and an empty space that is quickly occupied by Charles. 

You both fight over the corner seat, who gets to take up more of it. He loves to sprawl out and you love to curl up. When it’s all settled, he’s spread out like he likes, and you’re curled up into the space he leaves, half leant against him with your knees pulled to your chest, sleeves pulled over your hands because it’s hot in the kitchen, but only in the kitchen. 

“J'ai entendu dire que vous avez tous les deux eu un week-end assez mouvementé,” I heard you both had quite the eventful weekend, Marta teases. She’s the only other person besides the man next to you—as far as you know—that knows about what went down last Friday night. It takes even you a moment to remember, having already relegated the mortifying details to the bottom of your soul. When you do recall, your cheeks burn with the sudden blow flow and you giggle, curl into Charles a little further than you probably should.

“Quoi?” What, Joris asks, “ce qui s'est passé?” What happened?

“Rien ne s'est passé,” Nothing happened, Charles tries to protect you from re-living the evening, but it’s no use. Now that your friends have a sniff of a story, they won’t stop until it’s told in complete, painstaking detail. So, you begin:

“J'étais en train de garder un chat le week-end dernier pour mon collègue, n'est-ce pas?” I was cat sitting for my coworker last weekend, right?

— —

You were indeed cat-sitting for a coworker last weekend. It was an orange cat whose name you never really learned, much less remembered, and you were on day three of five of cat-sitting. It’s important for the rest of the story, for later. It is. 

Anyway, you were cat-sitting on a Friday night, but that wasn’t going to stop you from going out. Your sister had invited you, something about a club and her boyfriend’s friends visiting from London. Only if I can claim a brit, you’d joked. You’d joked, right up until coming face-to-face with the twenty-something, five-foot something-but-still-taller-than-you, perfect brown hair and perfect green eyed British man that had come along for the visit. You weren’t joking after meeting him. 

Once the two of you were finally drunk enough to lose any sense of what’s good for you, you were squeezing into the back of a taxi and stumbling up the stairs of your apartment complex, the cute boy and his little kisses and touchy hands slowing the whole process down. 

We all know what a drunken Friday night hookup looks like, so. There’s no need to explore the logistics of it with someone who’s name you’ve since forgotten, who you hope is back home in London never to return. Because where the story really gets good, is after the uneventful hookup, when Mr. Brit really needed to get back to his fiends and had you walking him to your apartment door in just a towel because he didn’t have the patience to wait for you to put on some fucking clothes. 

— —

“Bon sang,” damn, Hugo laughs from the other end of the sofa, “tu es vraiment si mauvais en sexe?” Are you really that bad at sex? 

“Va te faire foutre!” Fuck you, you scoff. “Je suis incroyable en matière de sexe,” I’m amazing at sex.

“Je peux trouver quelqu'un pour vous donner des cours, si besoin,” I can find someone to give you lessons, if you need. 

You pause, blink twice, and then continue your story. “De toute façon,” Anyways.

— —

As you open the door to let him out, the cat you’ve been cat-sitting—see. It did come back to be important—darts out of the door. 

“Grab him!” You’d yelled, and the guy actually looked back at you before replying. 

“I’m allergic.”

You scoffed, hurrying past him and down the stairs after the cat. You manage to corral it in the corner of the stairwell, pick it up and return to your apartment, just in time to watch the door shut behind you. You look at the door, at the guy you’d just fucked, at the cat in your hands, and then back at the door. “That is not good,” you say.

The guy laughs. “Just open it.”

Oh, brilliant. Why hadn’t you thought of that? “It’s locked.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

By the grace of God and all things good in this world, the guy had a fully-charged phone. Unfortunately for you, of the three people with a spare key to your apartment, there was only one number you had memorized: Charles. 

You text him before you call him. It’s me, please don’t send me to voicemail, and then he did send you to voicemail twice before calling the number back. 

“Bonjour?”

“‘Bonjour?’ Mon cul!” ‘Hello?’ My ass! You greeted, the cat snarling and wiggling against your grip. You were so far beyond being in the mood for pleasantries. You just really, really wanted some fucking pants. “J'ai besoin que tu viennes ouvrir ma porte. Genre, il y a dix minutes,” I need you to come unlock my door. Like, ten minutes ago. 

“Et avec qui ai-je le plaisir de discuter?” And who do I have the pleasure of speaking with? You swear if you could, you’d punch him through the phone. You can’t, so you settle for hanging up. 

It’s at this time that Mr. Brit properly excuses himself from the evening of fun, because now that he knows you won’t stand outside your apartment in nothing but a towel for the rest of time, his conscience is clean. 

You and Charles live a sixteen minute walk from each other, and he definitely chose to walk rather than literally any other form of faster transportation. Maybe you should have disclosed your current state over the phone, but that probably would have made him walk slower. 

When he finally does trudge up the stairs, he stops three steps short of your landing at the sight of you, towel and cat and literally nothing more. “Qu'est-ce qui t'est arrivé, putain?” What the fuck happened to you? He laughs, and then finishes his walk up the stairs, holding your key out to you tauntingly. 

“Connard,” Asshole, you mutter, snatching the key away from him with your free hand and forcing it into the lock. “J'avais un gars chez moi,” I had a guy over, you add, forcing the door open with your hip. 

“Où à?” Where? He asks, following you into the apartment.

“Qu'est-ce que tu veux dire, où?” What do you mean, where? You laugh, gesture around the apartment. “Ici,” here. 

Charles frowns, scowls even. “Et il t'a laissé dehors?” And he left you out there?

You nod, gather up your clothes from the floor before they can exist there long enough to be perceived. “Tu n'es pas obligé de rester, je vais bien,” You don’t have to stay, I’m fine, you tell him, half-usher him back out the door he came through. “Je sais que ta copine va probablement me tuer,” I know your girlfriend is probably going to kill me next time she sees me.

— —

“Je ne peux pas croire qu'elle ne t'a pas tué,” I can’t believe she didn’t kill you, Ricky chuckles, looking to Charles. 

You find solace in the bottom of your wine glass, an excuse to fill the silence that follows Ricky’s comment. “En fait, nous avons rompu,” we actually broke up, Charles says, and the room falls into the same silence it always does everytime they break up. It’s not that you guys don’t like her, so much as… well. Yeah, it is that you don’t like her. But she didn’t like you guys first, so it really shouldn’t matter much that none of you like her. 

“Je suis désolé, mec,” I’m sorry, mate, Joris offers, and then everyone follows suit with half-hearted apologies they don’t mean. 

“C'est bien, vraiment,” It’s fine, really, he offers to the group. “Elle était gentille, mais elle ne l'était tout simplement pas…” she was nice, but she wasn’t… he hesitates. You take another sip of your wine. Your friends listen to him intently.  “Je ne veux pas être méchante,” I don’t want to be mean.

“Soyez méchant,” Be mean, Marta giggles. 

He laughs nervously, fidgets with his fingers, watches his rings spin. “Elle n'était pas très bonne. Elle ne pouvait pas... Je ne l'ai jamais fait, tu sais,” She wasn’t very good. She couldn’t… I didn’t ever, you know, he trails off, gesturing wildly into the space around him, anything to avoid having to say the words the entire room has picked up on. 

You roll up your sleeves, hot again. Burning. 

The teasing that follows from the guys is relentless, gets to a point where you and Marta step in, begging them to stop kicking a dead horse while Charles is in the bathroom. They do ease up, and the night continues far, far away from horrible hookup stories and mortifying relationship admissions. 

You were the last to arrive, which means you’ll be the last to leave, make sure that the whole place has been cleaned up, returned to its stiff and dusty places in the apartment before you head home for the night. 

“Juste pour que tu le saches,” just so you know, you comment, scraping the last of the left behind chip-dip into a tupperware container while he gathers up the now-stale crackers from the charcuterie board. “Je ne te crois absolument pas,” I totally don’t believe you.

He meets your eyes, confused. “Tu ne me crois pas à propos de quoi?” Don’t believe me about what?

“A propos de ne pas…” about not… you look away, direct your attention to the lid of the container. Anything but looking him in the eyes while talking about each other’s sex lives. “Tu sais. Il est impossible que vous n’ayez pas joui depuis cinq mois.” You know. There’s no way you haven’t gotten off in five months. 

You see him shake his head in your peripheral, distract himself with the task at hand the same way you had. This isn’t something the two of you talk about, and you talk about pretty much everything. Sex, though. It’s always been off-limits, especially in a situation like this, just the two of you together. “Non,” nope, he mutters. “Je souhaite,” I wish.

You roll your eyes. “Charles, regarde tes mains,” look at your hands, you say, and he does, all full of crumbs and salt and grease. “Voilà, voici la solution à ton problème. Tu peux le résoudre dès que je partirai,” there’s the solution to your problem. You can fix the issue as soon as I leave tonight.

He rolls his eyes right back, “idiote,” idiot, he says, shoves your shoulder with one of his hands and you laugh. “Je ne peux pas. C’est… je ne sais pas, c’est irrespectueux,” I can’t. It feels… I don’t know, it feels disrespectful.

You laugh, curl in on yourself at his comment because it feels so completely ridiculous. He’s a good guy, you know. You know, or you wouldn't be such good friends in the first place. You know, but that's a crazy concept even for a good guy. “Manque de respect envers ton ex-petite-amie si tu te branles après un séparer?” Disrespectful to your EX-girlfriend if you jerk off after you’ve broken up?

“Bien. Quand tu le dis comme ça,” well. When you say it like that.

“Ouis,” yeah, you chuckle, hoisting yourself up onto the counter you’d just cleared. The granite is cool even through the denim of your jeans. “Quand je dis ça comme ça, tu es un imbécile,” when I say it like that, you dumbass. 

“Pourtant,” Still though, he sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. He always looks particularly boyish when he gets even the tiniest bit frustrated with you. “Tu ne comprendrais pas. Ça n'est pas pareil.” You wouldn’t get it. It’s not the same. 

Wouldn’t I? You pick at your cuticles, don’t know how to skate around the admission that you’re finishing about as often as he is—that Mr. Brit, who he’d missed by no more than ten minutes last weekend, was not exactly giving you a very eventful evening when he decided he was done for the night. 

"Je ne vois pas comment tu pourrais,” I don’t see how you could.

You nod, wish you lived in his little naive world where you always finish. “La moitié des gars de ce putain de pays ne savent pas comment faire jouir une fille. Et apparemment, les gars de Londres non plus.” Half the guys in this fucking country don’t know how to get a girl off. And apparently, neither do the guys in London.

“Vraiment?” Really?

You nod. “Je ne peux pas te dire combien de fois j'ai simulé parce que j'en avais marre que quelqu'un attaque ma lèvre gauche avec sa langue,” I can’t tell you the amount of times I’ve faked it because I was tired of someone assaulting my left lip with their tongue. 

“Fuck,” He laughs. “​​Ce n'est tout simplement pas bien,” that’s just not right.

“Non, ça ne l'est pas,” no it is not.

“Tu devrais vraiment obtenir de l'aide pour ça,” you should really get some help with that.

“Et toi aussie. Je mourrais avant de laisser tes conneries arriver.” So should you, you offer. I’d die before I let that shit happen. And you would, you really would. You can’t think of something worse than dating someone for months and knowing you’ve never gotten them off once. And she knows, she has to know, because there’s no way for him to fake it. She has to know. 

There’s a pause, and you realize that somewhere on the other side of the apartment the music has stopped playing. The speaker must have died—or the phone playing through it. You realize that Charles is close, now. Really close. Has he been this close the entire time you’ve been cleaning up, close. “Le feriez?” you would?

“Cent pour cent. Une bonne petite amie le ferait—en fait,” a hundred percent. A good girlfriend would—actually, you stop yourself, scowl a bit at the idea of it all. “Une bonne petite amie n’aurait jamais ce problème en premier lieu, mais ce n’est pas la question,” a good girlfriend would never have that problem in the first place but, that’s besides the point. He smiles, the threat of a laugh, and takes a step closer, firmly between your legs, now. You put your hands on either of his shoulders, give them a firm, friendly squeeze. “Une bonne petite amie t'aurait aidé,” a good girlfriend would have helped you, you assure him, but it doesn’t sound as friendly as your gesture was. 

His hand falls to your knee, thumb moving over the fabric of your jeans there ever so softly. It sends a chill up your spine, makes you shiver. “Un bon ami pourrait m'aider,” a good friend could help me, he says, hardly above a whisper—like he thinks saying it quieter is going to make it have any less suggestion. 

You nod, gulp, your fingers intertwining behind his neck. “Un bon ami pourrait vous aider,” a good friend could help you.

“Ouis,” yeah. You’re so close now that you can feel his breath on your face, that your noses might as well slot against each other. That you might as well be kissing, even if you aren’t. You’re sure your eyes cross when they meet his. 

“Dommage que tu n'en ai pas,” shame you don’t have any of those, you tease, smile pulling on your lips, hands falling from over his shoulders to move down his chest, to feel every reaction of his muscles as you trail over his abs softly, toy with the hem of his t-shirt. 

“C'est vrai, n'est-ce pas?” It is, isn’t it? His hand moves up your leg, and you instinctively move towards the touch, move yourself closer to the edge of the counter. He moves up, up your thigh, to your hip, threatening to go further. He doesn’t, though. He stalls there, searching your eyes for the permission to be there in the first place. 

And then, just like that, he kisses you. 

It starts soft, like he’s waiting for you to stop him, but you don’t. It’s a gentle collision, tender and hesitant and exploring whatever new waters you’d just sat yourselves in. His lips are so soft against yours, so careful, so sweet, and then his tongue is slipping through your lips, settling into the kiss now that he knows you’re going to kiss back. And you do, you kiss back, until it’s all hurried and messy, noses bumping against each other, teeth scraping each other’s lips. Until you’re hazy and dizzy and have to pull apart for air. 

“Peut être,” maybe, you chuckle into his mouth, kiss him again quickly. “Peut-être que tu devrais accepter l'offre de Hugo de trouver un tuteur,” maybe you should take Hugo up on his offer to find a tutor, you joke, and his smile is sweet against your lips. 

“Peut être,” maybe…  he says, fiddles with the buttons of your jeans hurriedly, like they’re going to seal shut if he doesn’t undo the button that very moment, and then he unzips the zipper, “ou peut-être,” or maybe… 

You kiss him again. Your core aches, the knot in the pit of your stomach pulling itself tighter and tiger with each millimeter further he moves. “Tu pourrais juste,” you could just. 

“Je pourrais juste,” I could just, and he dips a hand into your pants. 

You sigh, react instantly to his touch and his lips are on your again. Your hips move against his hand like it’s the first time you’ve ever been touched—which, this whole thing feels so charged that it might as well be. Charles’ hand moves in flat circles over your clit, pushing farther, deeper, slipping a single finger inside of you. 

You hiss at the movement, kiss him harder when your breath is back, pull him hard against your lips by the back of his neck. “Putain, tu es tellement mouillé,” Fuck, you’re so wet, he says. 

You nod, talk into his mouth, “Je sais, je sais,” I know, I know.

You reach between your bodies to palm him, find him already hard in his jeans, taking in a sharp breath when you touch him there. His other hand grabs at your tits, pushing and pulling and squeezing over your shirt before finally slipping under, haphazardly pushing your bra out of the way and palming them, kissing mumbled profanities into the skin on your neck. 

He pinches your nipple between two fingers and you whine—he ruts against the counter when you do, smirks against your lips and hums whatever noise he’s attempting to swallow. 

You sigh when he pulls his hand out from your jeans, but he’s quick to get them off of you, pulling them and your underwear off as soon as you raise yourself up off the counter. It’s cold, so cold, but his hands are equally warm, burn against your body as he explores every inch of available skin. 

You work away at his jeans, pushing down his pants and underwear as far as the angle allows you to. His cock springs out of the elastic waistband and the only thing you can think is how pretty it looks, all swollen and twitching and wet with precum. It looks painful, almost, how hard he is. But so, so pretty. “C'est tellement chaud,” this is so hot, you say. 

“Tu es tellement belle,” you’re so hot, he replies. 

You’re expecting for it to all boil over, then, for him to sink into you, fill you up with his perfect pretty dick, but he doesn’t. Instead, he lowers himself to your cunt and looks at you with nauseating eye contact. “Dis moi quoi faire,” tell me what to do, he says. 

“Quoi que ce soit. Faire n'importe quoi,” Anything. Do anything, you beg. 

He does, he does—licks a long stripe through your folds, forces your head to the sky and a sweet moan from your lips. He holds your legs apart with a hand on the inside of each thigh—strong, warm, big—and fucks you with his tongue. It’s messy and natural, but every move is intentional, working towards the goal of getting you off before he even fucks you. And he will, he will, because he listens so well. 

Every direction, even the jumbled, incoherent moans that leave your mouth, even the little twitches of your legs or the way your hips move against his mouth—it's all an instruction for him. What to do. What to continue doing exactly like he’s doing. “Juste comme ça. N'arrêtez pas,” just like that. Don’t stop, you chant, and he doesn’t stop. He holds his pace, and then you’re coming in his mouth, fingers slipping on the countertop in search of some kind of grip, some kind of stability as you writhe against him.

 When you’ve come down, come back to reality and the cold countertop and his warm hands, he’s kissing you again, cock hard and twitching between your bodies. You take him in your hand and he winces, groans when you start to stroke him, to spread the precum around his tip with your thumb. “Ça fait du bien,” feels good, he mutters. 

“Laisse-moi t'aider,” Let me help you, you insist. He doesn’t need much convincing. None at all, really. 

“Est-tu toujours... sur le?” Are you still… on the, he asks, tapping your arm. 

“Mon implant? Ouais, ouais,”My implant? Yeah. yeah. 

He kisses you again, licks into your mouth in a way that feels half-illegal, like all the rules of the universe have been broken. “Tu veux que j'utilise un préservatif?” Do you want me to use a condom?

You shake your head against his lips, shrug somewhere in the distance, far away from where your mouth is on his. “Je m'en fiche, je suis propre,” I don’t care, I’m clean.

“Moi aussi,” Me too. 

"D'accord, d'accord. Putain," Okay, okay. Fuck, and then he's slapping the head of his cock against your pussy, making you quiver with every touch. He drags it over your clit, through your folds, and then he’s sinking into you. His fingers bruise into your hips as he ruts into you, you reaching down to circle you clit while he fucks you full of him. "Putain, Dieu," Fuck, God, he moans. 

“Oui c'est bien?” Yeah, it's good? You ask. 

“C'est tellement bon, putain, c'est tellement bon, tu es si sexy,” It’s so good, fuck—it’s so good, you’re so hot. You don’t know if its his words, or that the seal’s properly broken now, but right as his dick slips out of a particularly measured thrust, you’re coming around the air, shoving a finger back inside to ease the ache of emptiness, pulling it back out and guiding his cock back in. He fucks you so good. So hard. So deep, just the sounds of each others groans, of heavy sighs and skin slapping filling the room, bouncing off the walls. “Je suis près,” I’m close, he tells you. “Je suis si proche, putain. Je vais,” I’m so close, fuck. I’m gonna, he repeats, fucking into you hard. Hard, burying himself in your cunt longer and longer each time. 

“Fais-le,” Do it, you say, “laisse-moi l'avoir, je le veux,” let me have it, I want it. And then he’s coming. Hard. Bottomed out in you, groaning against your neck, and filling you up with him. Fuck, he breathes. You can’t make a distinction between a sigh versus a laugh. “Ça va?”Are you okay? He asks. 

Your breath is heavy, heart thumping in your chest, in your ears, in your toes. “Je suis,”  I’m, you laugh. “Ouais, je suis plus que… je vais bien,” Yeah, I’m more than… I’m okay, you finally sputter out into his patient eyes. You think that’s the reason you stutter—the eye contact. “Es-tu?” Are you?

“Ouais,” Yeah, he says, running a hand through his hair, nodding.  “Oui. Très bien.” Yes. Very okay.

“Bien,” Good, you nod, and then, with all the vulnerability in the world: “Étais-je bien?” Was I alright?

He smiles, moves his hand to brush your flyaways from your forehead, to stop them before they can get in your face. “Tu étais…” You were… he laughs, and there’s no mistaking it now. When he does it, you’re reminded just how full of him you still are, of the ache you’ll feel when he finally pulls out. “Je ne pense pas que quiconque puisse avoir un problème avec toi,” I don’t think anyone could have any issue with you. 

“Oh,”, you chuckle, eyes locking onto the clock hung on the kitchen wall. You can hear the second hand clicking around the same way you can hear your own pulse. “Bon alors,” Good then.

“Et moi?” And me? He asks, and pulls out slowly before you can begin to answer. There’s a silence in the room, just the clock and your heart and your breathing, his eyes glued to your cunt like he’s admiring his handy work. “C'étaient…” Those were…

“Tous deux très réels,” Both very real, you nod, biting the inside of your cheek, catching his eyes when he leans over the sink, wetting a paper towel and ringing it out. “Je ne suis pas doué pour faire semblant,” I’m not that good at faking it. 

“Bon,” Nice.

“Je ne pense pas que nous soyons le problème, alors,” I don’t think we’re the problem, then, you chuckle, eyes snapping back to the clock, mind to the feel of the counter under your fingertips. You can’t think about anything more, of any other feeling or sense of taste or smell you’re experiencing or it will be too much. 

“Non je ne pense pas,” No, I don’t think so, he continues, and starts to clean you up, warm hands on your legs again while he runs the cool paper towel through your folds. You recoil at the cold, a shiver running up your entire body and his eyes jump to yours—”Désolé,” Sorry, he mumbles. 

“C'est bon,” It’s okay, you squeak, and it sounds like you’re about an inch tall. Utter mortification will do that to you, something this fucking awkward making you incredibly aware of everything happening in the room around you, of every touch of his warm hands on your skin. A lot of things are different now. Everything is different. 

“Je, euh. Putain,” I, uh. Fuck, you resort back to what you know best, to the only thing you can think about that doesn’t spiral back to the feeling of him finishing inside you. “Je n'arrive pas à croire que je doive nettoyer à nouveau ce comptoir,” I can't believe I have to clean this counter off again. 

He laughs again, tossing the paper towel into the trash can. It sits on top of everything else like a billboard, screaming about what it had been used for. The lid on the trash can doesn’t close like it’s supposed to. “C'est à ça que tu penses en ce moment?” That’s what you’re thinking about right now?

“Ouais,” Yeah.

“Tu es tellement bizarre, putain,” You’re so fucking weird, he says, adjusting himself, tucking back into his boxers, pulling them and his jeans up to make himself proper again. You have to hop off the counter to do the same, collecting and correcting your things as fast as you can because you can feel his eyes on your figure while you dress, and it feels too intimate. 

“Je ne suis pas bizarre,” I am not weird, you quip, buttoning your jeans and pulling up the zipper, carefully fixing your shirt, your bra, smoothing all of your clothes out over your skin. 

“Tu es. Tu es tellement bizarre.” You are. You’re so weird. 

“Peu importe,” Whatever, you mumble, quickly closing the lid to the trash can. 

The night has run its course by now, and then some. You spend fifteen minutes silently moving around each other in the kitchen, the whole room quiet enough to hear a pin drop in the downstairs lobby. You spend at least ten of them cleaning off the counter, which doesn’t feel so cold anymore, at least not where you were sitting. 

“Tu peux rester, tu sais…” You can stay, y’know… he finally breaks the silence. “Si tu veux.”  If you want.

“D’accord,” Okay, you nod. “Je ne… je ne sais pas si c’est une bonne idée.” I don’t… I don’t know if that’s a good idea.

“C'est vrai, ouais,” Right, yeah, he says, and the place threatens to fall back into negative decibel levels. “Je t'entends, tout ce que tu veux.” I hear you, whatever you want. 

“Désolée,” Sorry, you choke.

“Ne le soit pas, vraiment,” Don’t be, really, he assures, but you still are, still feel like you're stepping on a little baby bug that’s on its way home to its family. It’s not that you don’t want to stay, it’s more that you… you don’t trust yourself to stay, and you don’t trust him not to turn this into a messy rebound thing. If you slept in his bed tonight and got a text next weekend that he’d gotten back together with his girlfriend, you’d feel like a piece of shit. It’s bad enough that when they do inevitably reconnect, you’re already never going to be able to look her in the eyes again. 

“Tu m'enverras un texto quand tu rentreras à la maison?” You’ll text me when you get home? He asks, standing opposite you in his doorway. 

“Bien sûr,” Of course, you nod, fidgeting with the keys on your lanyard. “Nous n’avons pas simplement ruiné notre amitié, n’est-ce pas?” We didn’t just ruin our friendship, did we?

“Non,” he answers, without leaving space for a hesitation, to really wonder about your question. 

You smile at your keys, bite back a chuckle at just how quick he’d responded to you, about how sure he seemed. “Parce que tu es une de mes personnes préférées, tu sais,” Because you’re one of my favorite people, y’know.

“Tu es ma personne préférée,” You’re my favorite person.

You swallow, and when you look up from your keys, he’s staring right back at you. The comfort in the silence is palpable, and it makes you shy, pushes a nervous laugh from your lips. Charles just nods, certain in his choice of words. It makes you even more sheepish. 

You’re completely aware that he doesn’t look at everyone like this, that he never looked at her like this. “Que s'est-il passé entre toi et elle cette fois, d'ailleurs?” What happened with you and her this time, anyway?

He sighs. “Tu veux vraiment savoir?” You really want to know?

“Ouais,” Yeah, you nod. “Je fais,” I do.

“Je euh,” I uh, his fingers fidget with each other, pulling on the joints and twisting his rings. He doesn’t look at you when he tells you, watches the metal spin around his finger. “Je suis rentré de chez toi le week-end dernier et elle attendait dehors que je la laisse entrer. J'ai complètement oublié qu'elle venait après le travail.” I came home from your place last weekend and she was waiting outside for me to let her in. I totally forgot she was coming over after work. You regret asking as soon as he starts explaining. It’s not your business, and you could have gone your whole life without knowing that you were the catalyst for it. “On s'est disputé, elle m'a dit de choisir qui était le plus important,” We got into a fight, she told me to choose who was more important, he shrugs, like it’s nothing. Like he was being asked to flip a coin, asked what color the sky was. “Je te choisi,” I chose you.

“Charles,” your head falls to the side defeatedly. You wish he never told you this, even though you asked. You wish he knew better, that you knew better.

“Je sais,” I know, he nods, and it sounds like he feels genuinely bad about the truth.  “Je suis désolé,” I’m sorry. 

“Je devrais y aller,” I should go.

“Ouais…” Yeah… he hesitates, his hand lingering around his front door, refusing to close it on you. “Ouais,” yeah.

“Juste... ne le fais pas,” Just… don’t. You stop yourself—or you try to stop yourself—from speaking. It’s unsuccessful, how could it not be when he’s staring at you intently with those big green eyes, clinging to every word that leaves your lips. “Ne te remets pas avec elle S'il te plaît,”  Don’t get back with her. Please.

“Je ne vais pas,” I won’t.

You nod, even though you know he will. He always does. They always get back together. It’s nice to pretend, though, for a few days. To pretend that anything is ever going to come of what’s happened this evening. 

“Bonne nuit, Charles,” Goodnight..

“Bonne nuit.” Goodnight.

[sissylittlefeather]

Kinktober Day 6: Pussy Worship

First Taste

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, cussing, kissing, oral sex (f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, ejaculation

Word count: ~1k

Kinktober Masterlist

Elvis has been with girls. He's been with quite a few girls by now. It's 1959 and he's no stranger to naked women. But when he finds you at the Moulin Rouge and goes back to your apartment, he's in awe.

You have the most beautiful pussy he's ever seen.

Everything is in proportion and the right shape and color. It looks like it was crafted perfectly for him. He looks up at you from where he's on his knees between your thighs on the bed with his eyes wide. You're a beautiful girl, there's no doubt about it, but he's been with beautiful girls before. This is something else entirely.

"Is there something wrong?" You ask demurely, your French accent making the words sound sexier.

"No, no honey. Nothing wrong at all. It's just..."

"Quoi?" He stares at you blankly so you translate. "What?"

"Nothing... just..."

"Tell me, Elvis." You bat your eyelashes and his heart flutters. He's just going to have to tell you.

"Honey, you have the prettiest little pussy I've ever seen in my life." You giggle and try to wave him off. "I'm not kiddin', baby this is amazing."

He slowly spreads your legs open further and looks down at you again. Yep. Still perfect. He runs his finger up your slit and finds just the right amount of wetness. You moan softly with the sensation and wiggle your hips, begging him to touch you more. Suddenly, he has the strangest inclination to taste you. He knows that's a thing that people do, but he's never done it before. Quite frankly, he thought the idea of it was disgusting, but now he's here looking at you and his curiosity gets the better of him. He gently licks the end of his finger that was wet with your arousal.

The taste is sweet and earthy, almost like the way a flower smells, and is not what he expects at all. It actually tastes good. He wets his finger again and puts it in his mouth, but it's not enough. He wants to taste more of you. Without another thought, he leans forward and presses a kiss to your clit. The smell of you is intoxicating and he barely notices that you arch your back and whimper. He carefully pokes his tongue out and runs it up your slit. Moving back down, he pushes the tip of his tongue inside you. The experience is almost overwhelming so he pulls back. Luckily, your clit is just there, so easy to see, so he puts his mouth around it and swirls his tongue over it. You grab the top of his hair and grind into his face and it's like he can't get enough. He licks and sucks and moves his tongue in and out of you like a man possessed.

Finally, he realizes you're writhing and moaning in pleasure as he eats you. This just heightens his experience and he ruts his hips into the bed to try to get some friction on his aching cock. He never dreamed doing this would turn him on so much, but now he never wants to stop.

"Fuck, Elvis!" You cry out as your orgasm slams into you and he feels your pussy pulse and throb as he continues to lap at you. He's not ready to stop, but you're so sensitive, you tap on the top of his head. He backs away for a bit, nose and mouth and chin glistening, and looks up at you. You whine. "It's too much."

"No, please, baby don't make me stop. You taste so good. You're so pretty. Please, baby." You couldn't say no to his round blue eyes if you wanted to, so you nod and he smiles, diving back into licking you. Your eyes roll back as he moves his tongue on you furiously. Now that he's tasted your climax, he wants to make you do it over and over again.

And he does. After a stunning four orgasms, he finally rolls onto his back, exhausted and sweating. He can barely talk, his tongue is so worn out. His dick stands up, still hard and throbbing with need, precum leaking from the tip. He almost came a couple of times just from the excitement of licking you and grinding against the bed, but he didn't.

You look over and realize how hard he is. You're spent from the orgasms, but you want to repay him for what he just did for you, so you sit up and drag yourself over to straddle his hips. He watches you, mesmerized, as you line his cock up with your entrance and slowly start to sink down onto him.

"Fucking shit..." He hisses as your pussy takes him in, squeezing him just right. Once you've got him fully inside you, you whimper and start to move on him. His eyes roll back and he bites his bottom lip. He's never felt such exquisite pleasure before. "Goddamn, baby, your pussy..."

It's all he can get out before he quickly lifts you off of him just in time as he cums and his release spurts out of him all over your pretty pussy. You collapse on the bed next to him and lay there for a while.

Eventually he gets up and goes to the bathroom to get a towel to clean you up. As he does, he can't help but admire you yet again. When you realize he's staring and touching you more than necessary, you sit up on your elbows.

"Is it really so different?" Your voice breaks his trance and he looks up at you.

"Huh?"

"My pussy. Is it so different from what you are used to?" He smirks.

"Honey, I have half a mind to marry you for it. I've never experienced anything like it."

"Would you like to stay and have it again in the morning?" He looks at you eagerly.

"You serious?"

"I do not joke about sex. And besides, I love the way you look at me. I need more of it." You smile and pat the mattress next to you. He climbs back into the bed and lets you snuggle into his chest.

Elvis spends the rest of his life searching for another pussy like yours. He has plenty of good ones along the way, but none measure up to you and the beautiful secret between your legs at the Moulin Rouge.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @deltafalax @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @jhoneybees @polksaladava @searchingforgravity @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @peaceloveelvis @theelvisprincess @your-nanas-house @makethemorning @mrspresley69

Anyone else want a Kinktober tag everyday?

[amnesique]

the way i am — charles leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: after a few months of dating charles leclerc, he still hadn't made the relationship public yet, but talking about this can lead to something more in just a few moments. because, let's be serious, charles looks too fine in any situations, even when you are supposed to be mad at him.

warnings: SMUT (18+, minors dni!), dirty talk, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, google translated french, angst, not proofread.

many would've like to be in your place, not to be able to take their hands and lips off the famous charles leclerc, one of the racing drivers in the formula 1, who is part of the ferrari team, but they couldn't imagine what it actually was like to feel like being a secret.

you were together with charles already for a few months, after the relationship of friends with benefits led to a relationship in the true sense of the word. although many of his real fans suspected the closeness between you for what it really was, you two were still pretending to be just acquaintances, maybe even friends, but in no case boyfriend and girlfriend.

you were in charles' drivers room, sitting on his couch and running your fingers through his hair, with your mind being elsewhere as the race he was about to participate in approached.

it took a while for him to notice your strange stillness, being too preoccupied with your touch, the way you ran your fingers through his strands of hair calming down his nerves.

as others would say, the calm before the storm.

"hey," he whispered softly to you, standing up a little and taking your hand that was running through his hair into his own hand, stopping it in place and giving it a light squeeze. but you still had your gaze fixed on some point in the room. "mon nana?" he tried once more to get your attention, referring to you in french as his girl.

and then he had succeeded.

you looked at them with a troubled look, and he got up completely from your lap to take the seat next to you so that he can look at you better.

he lifted your head towards him, using his finger under your chin to study your gaze. "a penny for your thoughts, mon nana?" he asked you in a soft tone that would have transformed you into gelatin, if you were less distracted.

you gave him a weak smile, but pulled back slightly from his touch causing him to become lost in thought as well, thinking he had done something wrong. but you just couldn't stay serious and tell him what it was affecting you if you were to feel his touch on you and be so close to his lips.

"quoi?" he asked, eyes wide and lips parted. he looked like a lost puppy, but you had to stop yourself from thinking about it.

you cleared your throat, ignoring the lust you felt every time it was just the two of you, this close, in a room.

"do you know we've been together for a good few months already?" you asked and he nodded, waiting for you to continue. “ok, so,” you said and looked towards the door to stop thinking about how his eyes seemed to see right through you, "i don't like that we're not public yet."

"you know that i'm thinking about what's good for you and that's why i'm in no rush to make it public?" he said and placed his fingers on your chin again to make you stop looking away from him. "right?" he insisted, bringing his forehead to yours to be even closer to you, if that was possible.

you placed your hand on his cheek and sighed, "do you really have my best interests in mind when you let your fans think you're single?"

"what do you mean?"

you wanted to roll your eyes, but you resisted. somehow you also managed to resist the temptation to screw up the conversation and to get on him and kiss him because no matter how much that man tempted you, that discussion was necessary. if maybe not for him, then definitely it was for you. but you wanted to believe that it was actually beneficial for both of you.

"you give me the impression that you like the world, especially the girls, to think of you as a bachelor."

it was time for him to be the one to retire and for your hands to fall by your side, you being caught off guard by the change in the atmosphere between the two of you.

"are you for real right now?" he said, with a fake smile and revealing his dimples, at which point you squeezed your thighs together.

you nodded.

"you really think i'd want to flirt with quelques filles au hasard, when i could have you whenever i want to?"

his choice of words weren't the best and you rolled your eyes as he ran his tongue over his teeth.

"whenever you want to?" you repeated after him, feeling hurt by his words. "and when you don't want me, what? then i remain nobody's or can i also find a fan that i can pull him into a hug and tell him that he makes my day better and that—"

"i didn't say that,” he cut you off.

"but you don't deny it that you were the one who hugged her," you draw the conclusion to his words, with an insincere smile on your lips.

"and?"

"and?"

"yeah, and?" he continued and shrugged. "people like us always hug their fans when they see them, not just the female ones."

"today you hug her, tomorrow you take advantage of the fact that she has no idea about me, and kiss her or who knows what else you do," you waved your hands in the air, avoiding looking at him.

you were exaggerating, and you were aware of it. but at the end of the day, you were once just a fan and you ended up with him. so, how could you know that the one who would come after you, if god forbid you were ever to break up, would be the same, one of his fans?

you let your insecurities get to you, because time was passing by and he didn't seem to be in a hurry to make the announcement.

"is it me or are you accusing me of possibly cheating on you?” he said straightening his posture and you gulped as you looked back at him.

"that's not how i said it," you defended yourself, pulling your hair back because you felt suffocated by it, but at the same time, exposing your neck.

"maybe not, amour," he started and running his hand through his hair in frustration, he was in front of you in seconds, dominating you with the height difference, "but that's what i got,” he continued, in a whisper, being very close to your ear and placing one leg between your legs to support his weight on the edge of the couch.

you started breathing harder and felt yourself clenching over nothing, longing for more.

"still, that's not what i said,” you let the words roll off your lips just before he moved down from your ear to your neck, biting lightly and running his tongue over the spot right after, in order to make a weak whimper to accompany the previous words.

“shh,” he silenced you, as he slid a hand between your bodies so he could reach the dangerous area between your legs, while leaning against the wall behind you with his free hand. "let me make you forget about all the girls who want me and show you that you're the only one i want."

if before you compared him to a puppy, now you looked like a fish, mouth agape, yearning for his lips to be pressed against yours and at the same time, trying to breathe some air without inhaling his perfume, which it would've driven you even more crazy.

"qu'est ce qui ne va pas, mon amour?" he continued teasingly, asking you in his native language what was wrong as he wrapped his hand around your right thigh, knowing damn well the effect it would've on you. "hmm?" he insisted as he saw he wasn't getting a response from you and he looked up at you, a grin immediately appearing on his face.

and you wished the dimples in his cheeks would swallow you up, feeling how your cheeks unashamedly put on display for him the way your whole body was on fire, to have stopped you from turning on the side of you that was a whore for your boyfriend only.

but that wasn't possible, so you pulled him down towards you by his neck, taking what you wanted yourself and suddenly pressing your lips to his, and his hands that had stopped on your thigh was approaching much too slowly the area that longed for him. and because you wanted to end the teasing, you pushed him with your hands into his chest, causing his back to hit the sofa, being caught off guard.

"look at me, pretty boy, you're going to give me what i want now, or i'm going to leave you to deal with the problem growing in your pants on your own," you said as you placed a foot on each hair of his waist and you leaned over him, illegally close to his lips, without touching them. "tic-tac, your time left until the race is getting shorter and shorter,” you said and kissed him chastely on the corner of his lips.

his eyes had darkened, wanting you now even more than he did before. still, it didn't take long for charles' response to appear, "oui, m'dame," as he was rushing to flip you over so he can have you under him for a second time that day and to kiss your neck, while also helping you out of your underwear as you helped him undo his pants as quickly as possible.

the clothes disappeared in seconds and your lips continued to melt together, as if you were one step away from eating each other, lighting a fierce fire between you, which was fueled by the friction between your bodies. the next second, he's inside you, but only for a few seconds, before he pulls out almost completely and enters you again, with much more force, making the both of you let out sounds of pleasure.

you wrapped your thighs around his waist, feeling him so much better from that angle and wishing you could just do it non-stop at how good it felt to be connected on that level. his movements had become more and more unpatient, his pace being fast and turning you into a moaning mess.

his lips were everywhere and nowhere, leaving his mark all over your body with kisses and bites.

"tu te débrouilles si bien pour moi, mon amour," charles let you know what a good job you were doing for him as he moved his hands down between your bodies again, not slowing down the pace, to make quick circular motions over your clit. at the first touch, you arched your back, moaning out his name out of habit and grabbing the edge of the couch, only for you to continue to push yourself towards his hand, running after your release. "tu me fais me sentir trop bien, rayon de soleil, squeezing me just the way i need it."

his words, combined with his movements, made you feel like you were on a cloud nine and you couldn't get enough of all the pleasure that was taking place in your body, even if you didn't understand the french language that well.

"I'm—," you opened your mouth to let him know you were close, but the way you were tightening around him had already let him know.

"je sais," he struggled to say, being slightly overwhelmed by the situation, "you can let go, let yourself cum on my cock."

and when he felt that wave of pleasure exploding inside you and taking over your whole body, putting out the flames, and saw you rolling your eyes and biting your bottom lip, he finished inside your, continuing to pound slower for a few times, helping you come down from your high.

your breathing was still uneven, as his head fell into the hollow of your neck, placing soft kisses along it and making you chuckle weakly, even if you were feeling drained of strength.

"leclerc, the race starts in less than 20 minutes! get out of there!" came the voice of one of the staff from behind the door and you could only hope no one heard you while doing it.

charles rolled his eyes, and you put your hand over your mouth, trying not to laugh. "i'll be there in 3!" he yelled back, but instead he kissed your neck once more making you chuckle once again.

then he sighed and pulled out of you, "i gotta go," he announced you what was already obvious, kissing your forehead. "i hope you make sure you're going to be there, calling my name almost as loud as you call it in bed."

as much as you wanted to pull him back on top of you, his ego made you roll your eyes amused and get up on your elbows to watch him rise and he change from his usual clothes to the suit he uses on the racetrack. "can't promise anything."

he laughed weakly, revealing his dimples and as he reached to put his hand on the doorknob to leave the room, leaving you to meditate a little more on the situation, until you made your own exit.

throughout the course of the race, you shouted as he had told you, even though you knew he wouldn't hear you from inside the car, and you were as happy as a little kid when the race ended, and he was coming in second place.

with a smile on his lips that would've softened any heart, he made his way through the interviewers who were eager to interview him, leaving them to wait, and came straight to the part where you were. he beckoned you to come towards him, and you executed it with delight, forgetting about everything, every promise. so you made your way among the people to get in front of him and moment he pulled you into a kiss surprised you.

when he pulled back from the kiss, with a satisfied smile he noticed that you were wearing a handmade t-shirt with his number on it and leaned into your ear, "you look so good with my number on you that i'm so tempted to just fuck all and come take care of you for second time today," then he stepped back with a proud smile, leaving you with your red cheeks burning as if you had a fever.

and leaving the fans to speculate what he whispered to you, and how lucky they thought you were.

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #12] An Agreement

warnings: THE BALL IS ROLLING! solo masturbation that is, on a technicality, mutual masturbation (soulmate behaviour!). plot is also plotting! artist!tae is doing thingggssss. jk is getting bold! and sexy!

soundtrack: fuxxin’ love (2019) - OoOo

wc: 7.4k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

minors dni | AO3 | series masterlist 

There's a lingering silence as Jeongguk sits across from you on his bed. You're both crossed-legged, looking at the unfolded bird between you. His back is perfectly straight, posture pristine as always, but yours is a little more slumped. In all honesty, you just want to stop looking at the words written down on the paper, but it's like watching a car crash in slow motion. You can't look away.

His curtains are drawn shut. It's a change to his normal set-up - but the sun has already risen. If either of you stand any chance of sleeping, they need to be closed. The lamp on his bedside table currently illuminates you both, a warm glow only adding to the intoxicated haze you're still looking at the world through.

"Okay, so I think our birds are quite different," Jeongguk finally says. His voice is contemplative, but then he laughs. The lamplight catches in his eyes. He's serene. "Byeol, what the fuck?"

You groan and flop down onto his bed, nose nestling into his ever-freshly laundered sheets. "I didn't know we'd ever be reading them!"

Since the first bird fell, you've known that agreeing to share them was a mistake, but you had also forgotten just how many of your birds had been plagued by your desire for a sex life that didn't feel so tragic these days. 

Jeongguk leans a little forward, outstretching his arm to ruffle at your freshly bleached hair. He still hasn't mentioned it, and you find it odd. Had expected at least a remark regarding the fact it had changed, but instead he's simply acting as if that's how it's always been.

Anyone who does mention it has their compliments dismissed, with you insisting on pointing out just how patchy it is, so at least it saves making even more self-deprecating comments.

"I think we should veto it," you mumble into his duvet.

Frankly, Jeongguk is amused by it all.  He's also still got some of those tequila slammers in his bloodstream, which makes him throw caution to the wind a little more than usual. "Your choice, Byeol."

You huff, forcing yourself back up to face him. The origami paper stares at you. Is screaming. 

It's partially your fault for choosing to write your birds in full capital letters. Jeongguk had written his like a normal human being, and they feel far less confrontational. 

"It's an interesting one," he notes, before reading it out loud: "Mutual masturbation. The four exclamation points really add a certain... je ne sais quoi."

"Oh my god, shut up," you whine. "I was just thinking of the most intimate things you could do with a person, yanno?"

"And you chose mutual masturbation?" Jeongguk holds back a laugh. Doesn't hold it very well. Splutters one out regardless.

"Well, yeah?" You furrow your brows together, confused by the fact he doesn't deem it to be the height of intimacy. You think it's potentially the most vulnerable you can be with another person. "Getting off is so... personal. Doing exactly what you like... I don't think anyone's ever seen me... yanno?"

"No, I don't know," Jeongguk taunts, a cocky smirk gracing his pretty lips. You decide that alcohol is the worst thing to have ever happened to him. "No one has ever seen you what, Byeol?"

"You know what."

"No, I don't," he shrugs. "I don't know how you touch yourself."

You bury your head back into his duvet. "Oh my god, shut the fuck up. This one - this bird - is vetoed. We're not doing it. You never saw it."

Your ears are as pink as your cheeks, embarrassment taking hold of your features. It's really not like you to be bothered about such things, but the fact that Jeongguk's birds are all so.... innocent has you feeling a little mortified.

"Since when have you been such a prude, Byeol?!"

"I'm not! You're just... you." The way you say it - with such disgust - is exactly why he's winding you up. He doesn't expect the bird to be carried out. It's just funny to watch you squirm. "I'm not discussing my vagina with you."

"Is that not what friends are for?"

"No."

"Bet you'd discuss it with Danbi."

"Yeah, because I can trust her not to get a boner," you huff, sitting back up to face him. He's got the stupidest grin on his face, and even though you're trying to seem annoyed, he can tell that you're fighting one too. It's in the way your lips are twitching ever so slightly, brows easing from their furrowed state.

"I'm very capable of not getting a boner," he protests, but you don't care.  Just tell him to go to bed. You've got shit to do in the morning after you've slept the alcohol off. A job to get to in the afternoon. Can't be up all night.

He laughs to himself for a little while in the sanctuary of his pillow swamp. You tell him to shut up, and throw one of his pillows at him. Jeongguk just simply tosses it back up to you. Tells you goodnight and settles into a comfortable position. 

'Because I can trust her not to get a boner'.

Now that he's thinking about it, he's a little offended. He quite literally showered with you earlier and showed not even a hint of getting a hard-on. 

Then again, he wasn't actually facing you. Had refused to let himself think of what you'd look like half-naked under a stream of running water. Had focused his mind entirely on the grout between the tiles, considering whether or not it would look better grey instead of white.

Truth be told, he probably wouldn't have gotten hard anyways. Was too nervous. Scared of doing or saying the wrong thing. Scared that you'd reject his offer. It's not like he was getting anything out of it - it really had been to help ease you into the idea of sharing a shower not being absolutely terrifying to you - but rejection is never nice in any capacity. 

You shuffle beneath his sheets and sigh in such a way that he's almost positive you're asleep. Strange enigma of a woman, he thinks as he smiles to himself. You're so mild-mannered and peaceful in one moment, then causing chaos in the next.

He's glad to have you around. Glad that Jimin was a little crap in bed. Glad that you didn't want to hang out with Jimin all the time instead of him. Glad. Just glad.

But then his mind starts to wander. Starts thinking about what could have happened if he had gotten a boner. Would you really be that repulsed?

He shakes his head. Tries to rid himself of the thought. It's completely inappropriate. The time spent together beneath the cascading water of his shower had been such a vulnerable moment for you. He's thinking about it as his cock is getting hard. It's so wrong. He feels like a shitty friend. 

Palming at his crotch, Jeongguk tries to stop the chain reaction that is happening. It's fruitless though.  The contact only makes it worse.

Jeongguk says nothing as he gets to his feet and excuses himself from his room. He can't think straight. Decides the alcohol is at fault - but as he looks in his bathroom mirror, he can't help but curse.

There's no denying how hard he is. Not even a little firm. He's solid.

"Fuck," he groans, resting his palms on the counter, hanging his head between his shoulders. He shakes it. Knows that his current predicament is just circumstantial.

It's not that he actively thinks about you in that capacity, but the conversation you'd been engaged in has his mind wondering. Has him thinking about what the realities of the vetoed bird could look like. The way you'd close your eyes. The way you'd moan. The movements of your body; the squirm of your hips. The scent. The taste.

One of his hands drops from the counter. Palms at his crotch. Dips into the waistband of his boxers. "Shit."

He can't picture anything. Not really. He's never seen you in that capacity, so it's a little hard to imagine it - but he can seem to imagine the sensation seeing it would make him feel. How he'd get a little breathless. How he'd watch you as you watched him. He thinks about your eyes. Thinks about your glitter. Thinks about how it would shine with every movement of your body.

He untucks from his boxers, and strokes gently. Once, twice. "Fuck." Three times. A fourth.

There's a tightening in his chest, as if his logical mind is trying to make him stop. He pulls at his cock, bringing himself closer and closer to release. Once he cums, it will be fine. Just pent-up frustration. He wouldn't even be thinking about you like this if he wasn't clearly horny. He probably could have gotten laid tonight had he not drawn himself away from the girl in the club. 

That's it, he decides. That's what this is. Just a misplaced need for release.

It's a shame he doesn't know how restless you are beneath his sheets. How your hand crept down your body the moment he left the room; mind plagued with the idea of getting off with him. How you toy with your exposed pussy, wearing only his shirt.

You know you shouldn't. You're in Jeongguk's bed. He has to sleep in here. His sheets smell like him. 

Yet as you tell yourself no, it's the reasons why you should stop that seem to spur you on more. It does smell like Jeongguk. Smells like safety. If that isn't the best environment to get yourself off in, then what is?

You think about his back, and then you think about his arms wrapped around you and - "fuck" - it's not even the idea of him that's getting you wet; it's the idea of safety. Yes, it was his arms, but it's not the fact they're his which have you feeling this way; it's the fact you know they wouldn't drop you. And even if they did? You'd not be falling from some great height.

Realigning your mind, you let your mind wander to where it usually does in the early hours of the morning; Seokjin's kitchen, and the time he took you from behind when you'd been making dinner. 

It's your failsafe. Always gets you off remembering it. You think of his hands - strong, wide - and how they'd gripped at your waist. You think of his lips - soft, plump - against your throat. You're thinking of the view across the city from his apartment. Thinking about the way he'd turned you around; carried you to it. 

His apartment had been in a high-rise in the heart of the city. Not too far from Jeongguk's, actually. The windows spanned the entire wall, and you'd always been envious of the fact he got to wake up to it on the daily. 

He'd put you down; turned you back around to face it. Had stripped you of your clothes. Pressed you against the window. Fucked his cock into you with such aggression that it almost seemed as if he wanted the glass to break. Fucked you so well that when you came, it felt like you were freefalling, even with the glass intact.

It's thinking about that orgasm that always gets your pussy clenching around your toys at home - but you're without them, and your hands just aren't doing the trick. Your brain jumps from thought to thought. Lands on the reason why you don't have your toys: you're at Jeongguk's place. And then, because it's just as annoying as you are,  your head is just ribbiting his name at you. 

"Go away," you whine, but continue to play with your clit regardless. You're so close.. "Just let me finish."

And it's funny, 'cause Jeongguk's in his bathroom looking at the mess in the sink with a face of pure disgust. It's not the fact he got himself off that bothers him. Not the fact he whined a little too loud when he did so. Nothing like that at all.

It's that he'd been trying to think about the kiss he'd had that evening - the smell of her perfume, the softness of her lips - wanting it to be in his head when he came. He grew closer, and closer, and then - "oh, fuck" - why are you there? Why is he thinking about your gaze from the bar? And why is it that his brain always locks into one singular thought whenever he cums?

He just really hopes you didn't hear him curse out your name as he did so.

But you didn't. Were too busy having your own dilemma - one of which you're only just coming back down from when Jeongguk re-enters the room. You wonder if he'll know. Wonder if he'll be able to smell your arousal. Wonder if he'll even figure out that's what the scent is.

Neither of you greets the other. He just gets back into his little pile of pillows. It's kind of funny. If weren't so paranoid about him knowing, you'd make a joke of it. Doesn't feel very funny, now.

Silence consumes the room. You don't even know if he knows you're awake. It's so awkward you quite literally wanted to shrivel up and die.

Okay, so you're being dramatic, but it really does feel that catastrophic to you. As if irrevocable damage has been done. As if you've ruined the friendship all by yourself - but then it has you thinking. He'd been gone for just the right amount of time for you to draw a release from yourself. It wasn't long, but it wasn't entirely speedy, either.

Jeongguk shuffles. Lies on his back. Hands linked over his stomach.

"Gguk..." Your voice whispers into the darkness.

"Mhmm?"

He sounds sleepy. Sounds well spent. You know you'll regret it, but you just kind of have to know.

"Did you... just..."

He pauses. Takes a deep breath. Finishes your sentence for you. "Get myself off?"

"Mhmm."

There's silence. It lasts no longer than a few seconds, but it feels like a lifetime to you.

"You want me to lie?" He asks, clearly wanting to avoid the truth.

"Depends on what the lie would be."

Silence resumes. Is broken with a sigh.

"No," he says - and then he clarifies. "'No' would be the lie."

You nod, understanding exactly what he means, crown of your head patting against his pillow.

And yet still, you push. You want a clear answer.

"In that case," you say a little shakily. "I'd like the truth."

"Okay," he replies, voice much stronger than yours. " Ask me again. Full-sentence. None of that trailing-off bullshit you do. If you want a direct answer, give me a direct question."

And so you do.

"Did you just get yourself off?"

"Yes."

Fuck.

"Me too."

He laughs. Feels a weight ease. Can't fight the smile that's beaming even in a dark room. What a fucking relief. "Did we just... do your bird?"

And then you're laughing too at how fucking ridiculous the situation is. "In a way."

A peaceful quietness settles over the pair of you. Calmness. Contentedness. You're on a level playing field.

"Hey Gguk," you say after a moment.

"What now?" He moans, but you know he's smiling.

"What were you thinking about?"

And then rather suddenly he decides, "That's enough of this conversation. Night, Byeol."

"Oh my god, no," you protest, sitting up in his bed to look in his direction. The low-light level obscures him, but it doesn't matter. "What were you thinking about?"

"Byeol," he scolds. 

Although, in a way, it's kind of the answer.

"Jeongguk," you scold right back.

"Wasn't thinking about anything. Go to sleep."

His denial is a silent scream. You think you know. Think it's fucking hilarious.

"Were you thinking about me?"

"No," he lies. "It'd make me go soft - hey!" Jeongguk laughs as one of the pillows from his bed smacks against his face. "Well, were you thinking about me?" He banters back.

You laugh. "You forget I've fucked your housemate."

"OUCH."

You smile, all rather pleased with yourself, knowing it will play on his mind. Good. Serve him right for being a petulant little shit. "Night, Gguk."

"Have nightmares," he says, and you just continue grinning as you snuggle up in his sheets.

"Already living one."

You don't discuss the night before when you're getting ready to leave a few hours later. You've work in the afternoon, and really want a proper shower at your own place before you rock up with blue poster paint still down your neck.

Jeongguk feigns a hangover worse than it actually is. Says shit like, "I barely remember it," just so that you won't ask questions about why exactly he felt the need to excuse himself to the bathroom. 

He's not even really entirely sure why he did it. Obviously, he knows it's because he got himself too excited, just not why he got so excited. Just knows that he needs to figure out what's going on himself before he can breach the topic of conversation with you again.

You tell him you had a good night, and he says the same. It was nice for him to be out with you for once, instead of being an outsider looking in.

When you arrive at work that afternoon, Hoseok is tapping at his wrist. "What time do you call this?"

You roll your eyes, but your smile is warm. "Time you got a watch. How many painters we got in?"

"Full house," he says. "Only a few more prebooks for the rest of the day, though. No one booked in after eight, at least."

You ask him about his day, and let him babble on as you set about cleaning up the palettes he left for you to clear. He's been in work since midday, so has had to work through the heavy flow of customers coming in and out. Still wet, the chalky alkaline scent of the paint takes you back to the night before.

Has you thinking about Jeongguk; his toned back, and the rivulet of green-tainted water you'd watched run down it. Funny, how he'd been hues of blue - cerulean strands of hair, emerald caught under the ridge of his jaw - whereas you'd been a peachy daydream, pinks on your skin to match your lips.

The palettes turn the sink water a murky brown. Looks a little like dirt. You wonder if that's what the hues of you and Jeongguk would make together. Decide it's a good job you'll never find out.

But daisies push through dirt, you consider. There could be growth there. 

You let the water drain out, and rinse the boards off a final time, before you get to work on the brushes. Hosoek is greeting customers - "I love it. That shade of blue? Perfect. Come again soon!" - leaving you to your own devices, until a deep voice pulls your attention from the canvases you're organising. 

"I'm actually here to enquire about using the gallery space for a sho- oh. Hey," the owner of the voice says as he spots your eyes on him. 

Talk, dark and handsome, Kim Taehyung looks even better in the daylight. 

Dressed down in a white shirt and a pair of slacks, he's unassuming, but a frame like his commands attention. How Danbi is able to resist, you'll never know. Half think that maybe it would've been better if he'd been the one to have first caught your eye in Dionysus - but you're sure if Jimin was here instead, you'd be marvelling at how you'd landed someone as ethereal as him. The curse of attractive boys.

"Hey," you smile as you wipe your hands on a slightly paint-stained cloth. You whip it over your shoulder, and Taheyung smiles back. He wonders if that was something you did before you met Jeongguk, or if he's rubbing off on you. "Watcha doin' here?"

"Bit of a strange request, actually," he prefaces. "I'm looking for gallery space."

"Gallery space?" You question, reaching over for the thick diary kept behind the desk. You keep your eyes on his as he awkwardly begins to explain, pulling the diary pencil from the pages it's currently lodged between.

"Yeah. I'm looking to exhibit some of my work - a few artist's works, actually. All local." He holds up a black folder and taps it. You reach out your hand to receive it, and pass the diary over to Hoseok. "It's all in here. Concepts, artists, pieces. Even pre-written a press release for you."

You flick through the pages of the folder. It's typical of artists who request to use the space to provide you with something like this, but you can really see the care put into it. It's a collection he's curated, with the intent of finally getting his name out there in the art world.

The title page is a singular word: Requited.

"It's a study on the conflicting meanings of the word," Taehyung explains, and you can see what he means instantly. Many of the pieces photographed in the exhibition pre-guide are dark - reds, deep browns. Passionate. "To avenge; to love."

You nod, flicking through the pages, still. It's an impressive collection, and you recognise one of the art styles from an account you follow on Instagram. "Why here?"

Taehyung grits his teeth together in a way that you just know means a lie is coming. "We want our work to be shown in a place that emulates the feeling of creation - we could host workshops during the exhibition period. Runs promotions with you, help-"

"Cut the bullshit," you grin. "C'mon. This is a solid collection. Solid pitch. The folder, at least, your delivery could use a little work-"

"Hey, I'm only acting relaxed 'cause I know what you look like after one too many drinks."

"You want to exhibit here or not?" You tease.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He laughs, holding his hands out, but not reaching over to touch you. "Honestly? The bigger galleries have dismissed us. I think they're holding out for bigger collections, and the smaller galleries are booked up till Christmas."

"You're trying to get in before the end of the year?"

"Ideally, yeah," Taehyung nods, a little apprehensively as Hoseok hands you back the diary. You swap, and he flicks through Taehyung's folder, nodding in appreciation. "End of October, start of November."

"Hoping for holiday sales?" You ask, to which he nods again.

"If we're at the start of the season, hopefully we'll be the one that buyers come back to," he explains. "And I meant what I said about the workshops. Your peak must be the winter months, right? People looking for something to do indoors?"

You nod. You've actively been enjoying the summer lull. Aren't looking forward to the upcoming season - at work, at least. You love autumn in your own time.

"We could host events," Taheyung suggests. "Charge a little more than usual for guided workshops. You could get a nice Christmas bonus."

It's not a bad idea by any stretch of the imagination, and if the boss agrees to it, it could actually make the upcoming busy season a lot more bearable for you if it's more structured. 

"If it were up to me, I'd say yes," you tell him. His eyes light up like embers from a smoking fire, but they simmer quickly. He knows it isn't up to you. "Is it okay if we hold onto your folder? See what the boss says?"

He nods like one of those dog figurines your grandfather used to keep on his windowsills. His enthusiasm is sweet, and you hope that your boss is just as keen as you are.

"How long until you know, do you think?"

"Give us a week, maybe?" You say. "There's space in the diary between events at the start of November. Hopefully, if I structure a plan, make it easy for my boss, there'll be no reason to say no."

"You're a legend," he beams.

"Don't speak too soon," you remind him. "Still gotta get approval first."

"I know, I know," he nods. "You guys are the first place that's actually given us a look in, though. When Jeongguk suggested here, I kind-"

"He suggested this place?" You smile a little bemused.

"Yeah," Tae confirms. "Didn't say you worked here, though."

"Well," you say with a scrunch of your nose. "I do. Surprise."

The biggest surprise, you think, is that Jeongguk remembers.

"I'm glad you do, though. Feels like the collection will be in safe hands."

You know that he's mostly glad because it means the chances of Danbi coming to the exhibition will rise quite significantly, but you're not well-acquainted enough yet to tease him like that, so you just smile.

"I'll let you know, okay? I can give the folder back to Jeongguk for him to pass on if I don't see you before the end of next week."

Taehyung doesn't question it, but Hoseok glances over, eyes a little narrow. He knows there's something going on there. Just isn't sure what.

"Legend," Taehyung says again despite your previous protests. "You're the best, Disco Ball."

"Stop calling me that!" You call after him to no avail. 

He just waves back and heads out the door, into the afternoon sun. You tuck the folder beneath the diary and put it into the desk organiser that the boss always checks, before scribbling out a post-it note to explain. 

Their presence in the cafe is so infrequent that you never know when they'll next be in, and you worry that you'll miss it. Sure, you could just leave it in the hands of Hoseok, but you don't entirely trust him to relay all the important information.

He clocks out just after seven, leaving you to deal with the wind-down of the day shift. It's been quiet, only a handful of customers coming in throughout the evening. The last couple in - teenagers on a first date, by the look of things - leave at nine. It's perfect timing, as the last entry is also at nine, meaning you don't have to worry about any latecomers staying till eleven. You can close up early, which is always a dream - especially on the shifts after a night out. The sooner you can snuggle into your own bed, the better.

It's not that you don't like Jeongguk's bed. His mattress is perfectly firm, and his pillows really are to die for. It's just that nothing compares to home.

The closing routine is more work than you really care for. Restocking, cleaning, making sure everything is operational for an easy opening in the morning. 

Occasionally, you'll work a morning shift and spend the entire time finishing off jobs that staff from the night before neglected to do. It pisses you off. You've been known to leave passive-aggressive post-it notes on occasion. Always signed with a  smiley face and a kiss. Hoseok tells you that one of the other girls is gonna bitch slap you one day. You tell him good - would like to see her try. But what's a shitty job without a little drama?

It's as you're thinking about this potential conflict that your very real source of contention shows up at the door. He's dressed down, wearing a jacket that looks big enough to fit his entire friendship group within it, and a black baseball cap to hide the fact he hasn't styled his hair. 

There's something nice about seeing him like this - you so often get him in the gym, or at work - that it's pleasant to see Jeon Jeongguk as a normal person. See him as other people do.

You won't clue him in on this, though.

"Last entry was twenty minutes ago, Jeon."

The grin on his face as he leans against the door frame is something he's unable to hide - and why would he? There's no need to play games. Not here. Not with you. "Ouch, last name basis? What have I done?"

"Nothing," you say and smile back. He really hasn't - you're just trying to create distance. Reinstate boundaries that had been made a little blurry. "What brings you here?"

As he walks into the room - uninvited, you may add - he looks thoughtful, eyes all wide and inquisitive. He's never visited your place of work before. You've seen his workplace what feels like a hundred times over, so it's nice for him to finally have a visual of yours. 

He won't mention that Taehyung talking about your workplace had made him curious.

It's not what he expected. For starters, he imagined there'd be far more mess - though he does notice the cleaning cloth in your hand, and how it's saturated in all shades of acrylic, so perhaps you're just diligent. 

Up two flights of stairs, the cafe occupies the top unit of a commercial building. There's a hairdresser on the floor below and a deli on the floor below that, so the entryway normally either smells like peroxide or pepperoni - no in between. Occasionally it smells like paint, too, but it's a far less intrusive scent. 

The walls are covered in canvases - ones left by customers, prints of famous works, offerings by local artists. Easels are scattered around the room, set up in pairs with small tables for the art supplies between them. Jeongguk decides very quickly which spot he likes most - the easels by the window in the far corner. Thinks if he ever took a girl here on a date, that's where he'd like to sit.

Then again, he won't be doing that anytime soon - not unless one of those damn birds tells him to.

You follow his gaze to the window seats and smile. 

It's your favourite spot. S'why there's a cushion on the chair. It's for you. You sit there on your break with a book when it's quiet.

"Nothing," he says, but pulls a piece of carefully folded paper from his back pocket and tosses it down onto the counter. You glance down at it. Another fucking bird. Can see the wings don't line up. Say nothing, but slowly look back up at him. "Well, this has something to do with it. Fell while I was at the gym. Was waiting for me when I got home."

You nod. Run your tongue along your teeth as your lips purse. It's barely been half a day since the last. Hardly fair.

"Have you read it?" You ask, moving behind the counter. You're creating distance all over again. Jeongguk notices. Creates his own by retreating to one of the waiting room stools, where he takes a perch.

It's gotta be a big one. He wouldn't be here if he wasn't.

He sits, hands between his legs. Seems a little agitated. Doesn't seem quite himself. "One of yours." 

But then his posture eases. He sighs. Pulls a second bird from his jacket pocket, and holds it up. "One of mine..." he opens it. Bites his bottom lip as a laugh exhales, his eyes skimming over it. With a shake of his head, he reads it aloud: "Suggest an idea you know will get rejected."

He lingers on the final syllable, but then casts his eyes up to yours. The way he stares, so piercing and domineering is an absolute head fuck. He can be so soft and gentle in one moment, then completely unrecognisable in the next. It's what has your voice so quiet as you finally give a reply.

"And have you?"

Wouldn't be here if he had, you think. Stupid question.

He confirms this.

"I'm about to."

And for some reason, it has you smirking. Heartbeat racing. 

That's the thing about Jeongguk: he's unpredictable. 

You had heard from Yoongi the night before that he's started acting out of character, though in a way, it's apparently reminiscent of his 'old self'. You can't say definitely because you never knew him before he was broken, but it feels like perhaps he's healing.

"I'm intrigued," you tell him, which doesn't earn the smile you think it will.

In fact, he looks deadly serious as he says, "Promise me something?"

You're tepid as you nod. It's a no-brainer - of course you'll make a promise with him - but you can't help but be fearful of why you'd need to promise anything ahead of time. Does he not trust you?

He looks to his feet, where the toes of his right foot are perched up on the toes of his left. He's in his hightops again following a stint at the laundrette to tumble dry them. Behind the counter, so are you. "You'll hear me out first?"

"Of course I will."

"You and I..." he begins slowly. "Our friendship is good, right?"

You nod. Stupid question. "Right."

"And it's just friendship, isn't it?"

"Well, yeah?" You half-laugh. Still haven't discussed the events of last night yet.

And then almost out of the blue, Jeongguk decides to really reinforce the broken boundaries.

"You fucked Jimin."

The way you cringe is borderline insane; face all scrunched up, cheeks flaming red. It was just sex. You don't know why Jeongguk mentioning it seems to bother you so much. 

"Thanks for the reminder, yep," you say through gritted teeth. "I did fuck Jimin."

Still, it's not like it's the worst fuck you've ever had. There's just room for improvement. Maybe he'll redeem himself one day.

"And we're both completely emotionally unavailable?"

"Speak for yourself."

"Byeol," he smirks, amused by how often you seem to talk out of your ass. Conversations are never straightforward with you. Not entirely.

"Okay, okay!" You relent with a firm roll of your eyes. "I'm a little emotionally unavailable."

"Thanks for admitting it," he says, choosing not the question the 'a little'. You both know it should be 'completely'. "I have a question. A question before I make my suggestion."

"Go on.." you hesitate. 

"The birds. Are the birds helping?"

"With?"

"Your intimacy issues. Like say you hooked up with a randomer tomorrow, would you be able to think clearly if they suggested a shower?"

It's a good question. One that you really don't know the answer to. 

"Maybe?" you say, voice a little higher than typical. "My heart rate definitely feels a lot lower than it normally does when I consider it."

It's not a lie. Normally your hands would feel a little itchy, but you've barely broken a sweat.  You are, admittedly, thinking about the shower with Jeongguk, and how platonic it had been - but maybe that's exactly it. Maybe equating these big moments to nothing scarier than friendship is what helped.

"Okay, that's good," he replies before taking a second to gather his thoughts. "The birds... They're helping me. I never would have gotten that girl's number without them. Without you."

"You're welcome, Cassanova."

"And I'm thankful," he smiles, and you can almost feel his sincerity. "I really am. Been chasing my tail for far too long."

This admission silently delights you. It's rewarding to help someone through their healing process, no matter how large or small. To be included at all is an honour.

"So?" You lean your elbows on the counter. "Your suggestion?"

He sighs. As uncomplicated as he finds your company, he still doesn't find any of this easy. There's a massive mental hurdle for him to overcome.

You get it. You really do. Even though your troubles are different, they still come from the same place. They're matters of the heart, and they're by far the hardest things to untangle yourself from. Seokjin's still got a grasp on your puppet strings, and Jeongguk's former fling still has a hold on his, it would seem.

"Hey," you smile. Jeongguk thinks you look warm. Homely. "Nothing to be scared of. Just me. Just us."

His brows furrow and ease all within the same second. He knows those words. Knows he used similar ones on you the night before. Perhaps he really should start listening to his own advice, because it's just what he needed to hear.

"I think... I think maybe we should just...," he pauses. Looks to his hands and then back up to you. "Say fuck it?"

You grin, bemused. "Fuck it?"

It's not an instant yes. Jeongguk can't blame you for it - but it just reminds him that he has to be specific. He'd grated you about that last night, too. He can't be a hypocrite now.

"Okay, so... The birds, right?" He asks, but he isn't really asking anything. Just forming his words. Still, you nod. Encourage him to go on. "Whenever they fall, we're always like 'oh fuck,' right?"

 Again, you nod. 

"I just... I think the only reason we're hesitant to do your birds is 'cause we think we shouldn't do them. Like we think it will be a recipe for disaster... But... why? It's not like there are any confused feelings or ulterior motives. If I did your birds with you, I wouldn't be doing anything for like... my own gain? Just like you aren't with mine."

You stop yourself from interrupting. He's clearly struggling to form the words, eyes darting to his hands every time he catches your gaze.

"I know, I know," he rambles on. "You shouldn't fuck your friends. Shouldn't shit where you eat. But it's not fucking for the sake of fucking - and like, honestly, I don't actually know if any of your birds include fucking-"

"They do."

"Okay, brilliant, so they do," he laughs. Somehow a weight seems to ease. If anything, that admission should add more pressure. "It doesn't matter. Look all I'm saying is that I'm okay to do your birds, no matter how obscure they get. If that means me getting you used to sharing a shower with someone, so be it. It doesn't have to be sexual, even if the end goal will be used in that capacity."

You understand the sentiment, but there's one undeniable; your birds are all about sex.

"Gguk, I wrote some pretty..." You pause. It's your turn to struggle, now. "How do I say this? ...Intimate things on my birds."

"Fear of intimacy," he nods, and then he smirks. "I know. I'm not naive to what that entails. I know I'm a boy, but give me some credit, Byeol."

"Sorry."

The smiles you exchange are delightfully insolent, just like the make-believe fairies you imagine are dancing around you right now, tickling at your skin with miniature wee pinches just to get you giggling. So childish of the pair of you to behave this way in such a serious conversation.

"What I mean is that it's being done with a purpose. It's not just sex for the sake of sex, or whatever it may be," he says. "Like if I'm fucking you, it's not fucking. It'd be like... therapy?"

"I think you'd get fired if you were my therapist," you grin. "It's so weird hearing you talk about sex knowing that you're talking about having sex with me." 

It really is all a bit strange.

"But that's the beauty of it. The stakes are at zero. There's no worry of disappointment, no worry of getting heartbroken, no worry of anything that could go wrong - the birds tell us what to do, we do it," he explains, finally able to get his words out. "And look - I won't lie - I've been out of practice for a while, so it'd probably help with my confidence, too."

You scrunch your nose a little. "That doesn't fill me with hope for your skills."

He rolls his eyes. "It's not about my skill level, Byeol. That's beyond the point. It's about your association with sex and intimacy. If we can separate your association with certain sexual acts from intimacy, then they'll seem a lot less daunting in future relationships. Like, call me crazy, but I really think this could work."

"Okay, so you are crazy... but," you begin. He laughs, knowing that you're never able to resist the role of devil's advocate. "Hypothetically speaking- we get you a date. We get you a girl you're really interested in, but there are still a fuck tonne of birds? Then what?"

"Well, by that point hopefully we'll have worked through enough of our respective issues. I'm not gonna magically become a lothario overnight, am I? It will take time," he emphasises. "By the time I'm ready for that, I'm pretty sure you'll also be ready to explore this shit with someone you actually care about."

It's funny. You do care about him. Wouldn't even be considering this if you didn't.

"I'm not convinced," you say. It's a nice idea, but there's no way your timelines will be linear. Your breakup is far fresher - but you don't realise just how deep his wounds go. Perhaps it will take him just as much time.

He nods. Appreciates your honesty. Rereads his bird. "Suggest an idea you know will be rejected. I didn't come here thinking you'd agree, Byeol, but I also don't think it's a bad idea."

"And if I do agree?"

"There's a bird already waiting," he gestures towards the one on the countertop. It's sitting, untouched by you, in a very sorry state. You really are terrible at origami. 

"Can I... have some time to think?"

His proposition is a big ask. Jeongguk knows this. So far, you've been dancing around the notion of a somewhat unconventional friendship, but escalating things will really cement it. There'll likely be no going back.

And so he says, "I have a lot of trust in our friendship, Byeol. I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't think we could handle it. I know it's a lot though, and I've already wasted enough of your time tonight, so I'll leave you be, okay?" He gets to his feet, and places his bird down on the counter. It's yours now. He's set it free. "Text me when you get home? Not for like, anything in particular, I don't need an answer now. Just so that I know you're home safe."

"Okay," you nod as he walks to the door. "Bye, Gguk."

He glances over his shoulder and presses his lips together, his silver lip ring flipping ever so slightly. "Bye, Byeol."

There's a shift as he leaves. The air feels colder; the light dimmer. You're left with your thought and nothing but a little regret simmering in your stomach. The feeling of safety that comes with Jeongguk leaves when he does. You don't like it. Want it back.

"Shit," you curse, tossing your own bird down onto the counter. Running for the door, You call after him. "Hey! Gguk, wait!

By the foot of the stairs, Jeongguk turns. Take a single step back up. Stops himself from walking the full distance. 

"You gotta promise me one thing," you say, but it's posed more as a question.

He'll promise you whatever you ask - within reason. "What?"

"If we do this, it won't fuck up your friendship with Jimin?"

"Why would- Ohhh," he snorts. "'Cause you fucked him."

"Yes, again, thank you for the reminder. I'm sure the entire building needs to know that."

"Shut up, there's like no one else here."

"It's the principle."

"The Jimin thing is fine," he says. He wouldn't have suggested this if he thought it would impact anything within his existing friendships. He cares about Jimin probably more than he cares for you. It's in slightly different capacities, admittedly, but that doesn't matter. "No offence, but he doesn't sit there lamenting the way you left him that night."

"Yes, he does," you challenge, knowing Jeongguk is absolutely correct. "Don't lie."

"Will it make you feel better if I pretend he does?"

"Yes."

"Okay, fine, he stares and the door and pines for your return like a lovesick puppy - happy?"

It's funny, 'cause it's probably what Jimin would actually say about Jeongguk instead. Always a little mopier after his time spent with you is finished.

"Much happier," you grin. "But I'm serious. I don't wanna cause you issues."

"I'd be causing myself issues," he insists. "It wouldn't be your fault. But no, it'll be fine."

You take a second to breathe. Let your cheeks plumpen as air exhales from your lips. "Alright. Let's try it. The bird that fell today, let's try it, and see how it goes? If it's too weird-"

"We can back out," he nods. "No harm, no foul."

"You got anywhere to be? Wanna wait with me while I finish up and then..."

The beat of your heart is so rapid that you think you might have a heart attack - but as Jeongguk makes his way up the stairs, it seems to settle. This is fine.

"And then?"

"Then we'll do the damn bird."

 AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT

[neopronouns]

flag id: three flags with 5 stripes. the left flag's stripes are yellow-green, golden yellow, dark purple-grey, faded pink, and dark pink. the middle flag's stripes are soft purple, light sky blue, dark green-grey, pinkish-red, and dark pinkish-red. the right flag's stripes are red-orange, light seafoam green, dark brown-grey, pinkish-red, and dark pink. end id.

banner id: a 1600x200 teal banner with the words ‘please read my dni before interacting. those on my / dni may still use my terms, so do not recoin them.’ in large white text in the center. the text takes up two lines, split at the slash. end id.

aron't | acen't | aroacen't

aron't: an umbrella term for anyone who is not aromantic

acen't: an umbrella term for anyone who is not asexual

aroacen't: an umbrella term for anyone who is not aromantic asexual

[pt: aron't: an umbrella term for anyone who is not asexual

acen't: an umbrella term for anyone who is not aromantic

aroacen't: an umbrella term for anyone who is not aromantic asexual. end pt]

for anon! similar to transn't not just referring to cis folks, these terms don't just refer to allo(spec) folks. i took inspiration from inverted versions of the aromantic/asexual/aroace flags and from the absromantic/abssexual/absrose, orchidromantic/ orchidsexual/orchidaroace, allorospec/allosespec, and quoi- flags (though these aren't the only possible aron't/acen't/aroacen't experiences!)

tags: @radiomogai, @liom-archive, @orientation-archive, @narcette, @genderstarbucks, @sugar-and-vice-mogai | dni link

[thr4shit]

Soooo...

Intros.

Yeah– that's a thing, right?

Username:

Formerly @/thedancingclowns ! Now @/thr4shit !!

Name:

Collectively ig, call me Evan or Vinnie (Vinnie being a nickname FOR Evan)

( feel free to ask about other names... we use A LOT! )

Pronouns:

He/they mostly! Depends!!!

(aka ask if you wanna know our others!!! OH. also I use I/Me and We/Us/Our type stuff interchangeably because of our varying levels of comfort with plural pronoun usage!!!)

Stuff about me:

my name is Evan (I also go by Vinnie for short), I am a (ftm) man, I am here to like fanart and writing and cool people (and also memes sometimes) while posting the most random shit known to humankind, I am legally an adult, a system, a polyam quoi demi and nebula pan or omni dude (dunno man, romance is weird), I am also a poly fictkin, therian and otherkin! So I DO identify as nonhuman/alterhuman *but don't mind being called human terms*, I call people man/dude/bro gender neutrally (sorry bout that), I can rapidly or aggressively switch between apathy and CRUSHINGLY high empathy, I have ADHD ASD, and GAD, probably with some other undiagnosed shit too, and my birthday is April 22nd.

Human synopsis:

I have AuDHD, I am a system, I like to at least attempt to create stuff and have for pretty much my whole life, I am trying to be a functional grown being, my birthday is April 22. I am interested in film and writing, and plan on making a movie or series at some point in my life.

Stuff I do here:

head cannons, fanart, oc stuff, maybe polls, random stuff that I think is amusing or like "oh wait-- huhhh??"

Tag stuff!! :

If anyone in specific gets very "Yeah, this is something I posted" they'll typically tag it # [headmate name] shenanigans or # [headmate name] posting and their source's tag if applicable/if they want to.

Do's and Don't's

please Do not

- ask NSFW stuff (I don't feel comfortable with it)

- ask for personal information (I won't give it to you, I don't want to)

- Continue to try to get me to do or say something if I turn you down. (If I turn anything down it's because I'm uncomfortable.)

- Send me "send this to _ more people!" things in asks, I understand they're popular but they make me freeze up because I don't want to make people angry with them, but I also REALLY want to participate. (I'm all for @ -ing stuff because that I can more easily point out that it's 'no pressure' and feel like I can answer whenever I want. With asks, I feel more limited in the amount of time I can wait before answering.)

- Tell me to "chill" on my vent posts. If I CHOOSE to post about things that piss me off, I am NOT asking you to tell me to chill. I fucking hate when people say that. It only makes me angrier.

- Tell me to "chill" or try to dictate how I should post (ESPECIALLY on my fixations) this is a dick move. And NOT okay.

Do

- be respectful (most of my content will be opinions / up to interpretation stuff. my views might not be your own, but that doesn't mean you get to argue with me about them; respectful disagreements are chill though!)

- in general just try to understand that everyone has boundaries (meaning, follow my rules when interacting with me; and I'll do the same when interacting with you)

DNI stuff (will be worked on when I have energy/motivation):

*cw because I'm pissed as fuck right now, and tell some of y'all to fuck off. – 7/25/2024*

Racism, Homo/Trans/LGBTQ+phobia, Ace exclusionists, MAP, TERF, pure NSFT blogs, anti-kin/anti-therian, anti-agre, anti-petre, NSFW agre/petre, Syscource, Transmed, Sysmed, anti EDUCATED self dx, Zionists, anyone who is anti-palestine, anyone pro-KOSA, anyone who supports the shithole that Christian nationalists, religious extremists, political extremists, pro-life people etc plan to turn America into.

If you are, get the fuck off here, and if you interact you are INSTANTLY getting blocked. Go to hell you stupid cocks, I fucking hate you. (You are making things worse and the world needs to get its head out of its ass and deal with shitheads like you.)

^^ that last violent ramble is talking about racists, lgbtphobes, sexists, terfs, swerfs, maps, zionists, anti-palestine fuckers, pro-kosa fuckers, Christian nationalists *I don't give a shit if you're just religious but if your GOAL is to make AMERICA A FUCKING CHRISTIAN NATION FUCK OFF*, political extremists, pro-life people, and people who support the Amercian Idiocy that we've let fucking fester for some reason. *which will DESTROY ALL REMNANTS OF A FUCKING DEMOCRACY*

(will likely add more guidelines, but those are the ones I can think of for now)

Do not stop fighting, we have to make things right. Free Palestine, fuck KOSA, etc, etc. Do NOT let this world continue its fall to shit.

I never hoped to be political but life is a fucking shitshow right now, so if I don't I'll feel like just another ignorant American ass. I don't want to be just another fucking coward blending in and hoping things will get better without trying.

PFP does not belong to me.

Using some of those: "this user ..." things.

(None of them belong to me and I continually forget where I get them from... but the blinkies are mine!!! :DD)

(Wait- fuck, that last bubble is a lie. I made the Sally Face one. That one actually is mine??? I only noticed that after someone used it like??? WOAHHH?? Someone used it???)

Sideblogs!!

@thr4shdoes-selfships (my selfshipping side)

@iamdevouring-god (my Endless One / Devourer of God Sally Face RP side blog)

@habitual-creatures (my HABIT / Evan Myers kin/SORTA rp ask blog *primarily based on kin as I am a fictkin. 👍 I feel okay admitting it here now. :']* + Kevin & Observer who ended up there too *HELP TOO MANY KINTYPES-* )

@everymanvenom side blog for all of my EverymanVENOM AU dabblings and stuff!!! this is an EverymanHYBRID x Venom crossover AU sideblog!

HELP PALESTINE 🇵🇸

(and see other blogs for more resources!

I do not compile them on this site!)

(Last updated November 6th, 2024)

[lonely-darksun]

Hi

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

✦ Hey there. call me alexx (damian, alistar, felix, az/azrael, and darksun all also work)

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

heres a little get to know me:

☾ pronouns: he/they/fae/it (most basic pronouns)

☾ most preffered neopronouns: void/rot/sin/that/fall/hollow/hallow/ abyss/abyssal

☾ gender: trans masc, neoboy, xenogender

☾ sexuality: i'm bi/uranic, diamoric, ambiamorous, and ace/aro but technically i'm cupio/quoi

☾ kin types: black Alexander archipelago wolf, spotted hyena, crow, raven, vampire, fae, demon, void, night, moon, space, storm (specifically lightning/thunder and rain), dragon, angel/divine/god???, and possibly some kind of nature kin, nightmare kin, and even something that's boney and dirty but in a eldritch way.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

fun facts about me:

☾ im a pagan witch (specifically Im a Norse/Hellenic polytheist mainly, and a ecclectic witch), im alternative mostly emo leaning, my favorite animal is wolves, I use tone tags sometimes, and im in love with rainy/cold weather.

☾ hobbies include: dancing, writing (both prose and poetry), singing, acting, drawing, reading, and being chronically online.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

☾ Warning: i am an extremely chaotic person and some things that may be posted could be...intreseting.

☾ Also, I probably have autism and or ADHD, so that too.

⋆☀︎. Link to my pronouns page:

⋆☀︎. Link to my Wattpad:

Link to my Pronouns.cc:

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

☾ DNI: Basic criteria, homophobic, transphobic, racist, antisemitic, ableist, z00philes, against therians, anti- neo-pronoun users, anti- xeno-gender users, radqueers, proship, etc. etc.(General DNI applies) (edited it because I realized that it may be unclear lmao)

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

☾ Tags!

darksuns reblogs- self explainitory. things I'm rebloging

darksuns sins- poetry/writing things

darksuns stars- alterhuman/otherkin/nonhuman/therian

darksuns sparks- is something a post I made that's not about the above

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

[alphabetboyluvr]

bad decisions - jjk | twelve

You take a second to breathe. Let your cheeks plumpen as air exhales from your lips. "Alright. Let's try it. The bird that fell today, let's try it, and see how it goes? If it's too weird"— "We can back out," he nods. "No harm, no foul." "You got anywhere to be? Wanna wait with me while I finish up and then..." The beat of your heart is so rapid that you think you might have a heart attack—but as Jungkook makes his way up the stairs, it seems to settle. This is fine. "And then?" "Then we'll do the damn bird."

Bad Decision #12 - An Agreement

warnings: THE BALL IS ROLLING! solo masturbation that is, on a technicality, mutual masturbation (soulmate behaviour!). plot is also plotting! artist!tae is doing thingggssss. jk is getting bold! and sexy!

soundtrack: fuxxin' love (2019) - OoOo

wc: 7.4k

bd total wc: 370k (on-going)

minors dni | wattpad | series masterlist |

There's a lingering silence as Jungkook sits across from you on his bed. 

You're both crossed-legged, looking at the unfolded bird between you. His back is perfectly straight, posture pristine as always, but yours is a little more slumped. In all honesty, you just want to stop looking at the words written down on the paper, but it's like watching a car crash in slow motion. You can't look away.

His curtains are drawn shut. It's a change to his normal set-up - but the sun has already risen. If either of you stand any chance of sleeping, they need to be closed. The lamp on his bedside table currently illuminates you both, a warm glow only adding to the intoxicated haze you're still looking at the world through.

"Okay, so I think our birds are quite different," Jungkook finally says. His voice is contemplative, but then he laughs. The lamplight catches in his eyes. He's serene. "Byeol, what the fuck?"

You groan and flop down onto his bed, nose nestling into his ever-freshly laundered sheets. "I didn't know we'd ever be reading them!"

Since the first bird fell, you've known that agreeing to share them was a mistake, but you had also forgotten just how many of your birds had been plagued by your desire for a sex life that didn't feel so tragic these days. 

Jungkook leans a little forward, outstretching his arm to ruffle at your freshly bleached hair. He still hasn't mentioned it, and you find it odd. Had expected at least a remark regarding the fact it had changed, but instead he's simply acting as if that's how it's always been.

Anyone who does mention it has their compliments dismissed, with you insisting on pointing out just how patchy it is, so at least it saves making even more self-deprecating comments.

"I think we should veto it," you mumble into his duvet.

Frankly, Jungkook is amused by it all.  He's also still got some of those tequila slammers in his bloodstream, which makes him throw caution to the wind a little more than usual. "Your choice, Byeol."

You huff, forcing yourself back up to face him. The origami paper stares at you. Is screaming. 

It's partially your fault for choosing to write your birds in full capital letters. Jungkook had written his like a normal human being, and they feel far less confrontational. 

"It's an interesting one," he notes, before reading it out loud: "Mutual masturbation. The four exclamation points really add a certain... je ne sais quoi."

"Oh my god, shut up," you whine. "I was just thinking of the most intimate things you could do with a person, yanno?"

"And you chose mutual masturbation?" Jungkook holds back a laugh. Doesn't hold it very well. Splutters one out regardless.

"Well, yeah?" You furrow your brows together, confused by the fact he doesn't deem it to be the height of intimacy. You think it's potentially the most vulnerable you can be with another person. "Getting off is so... personal. Doing exactly what you like... I don't think anyone's ever seen me... yanno?"

"No, I don't know," Jungkook taunts, a cocky smirk gracing his pretty lips. You decide that alcohol is the worst thing to have ever happened to him. "No one has ever seen you what, Byeol?"

"You know what."

"No, I don't," he shrugs. "I don't know how you touch yourself."

You bury your head back into his duvet. "Oh my god, shut the fuck up. This one - this bird - is vetoed. We're not doing it. You never saw it."

Your ears are as pink as your cheeks, embarrassment taking hold of your features. It's really not like you to be bothered about such things, but the fact that Jungkook's birds are all so.... innocent has you feeling a little mortified.

"Since when have you been such a prude, Byeol?!"

"I'm not! You're just... you." The way you say it - with such disgust - is exactly why he's winding you up. He doesn't expect the bird to be carried out. It's just funny to watch you squirm. "I'm not discussing my vagina with you."

"Is that not what friends are for?"

"No."

"Bet you'd discuss it with Danbi."

"Yeah, because I can trust her not to get a boner," you huff, sitting back up to face him. He's got the stupidest grin on his face, and even though you're trying to seem annoyed, he can tell that you're fighting one too. It's in the way your lips are twitching ever so slightly, brows easing from their furrowed state.

"I'm very capable of not getting a boner," he protests, but you don't care.  Just tell him to go to bed. You've got shit to do in the morning after you've slept the alcohol off. A job to get to in the afternoon. Can't be up all night.

He laughs to himself for a little while in the sanctuary of his pillow swamp. You tell him to shut up, and throw one of his pillows at him. Jungkook just simply tosses it back up to you. Tells you goodnight and settles into a comfortable position. 

'Because I can trust her not to get a boner'.

Now that he's thinking about it, he's a little offended. He quite literally showered with you earlier and showed not even a hint of getting a hard-on. 

Then again, he wasn't actually facing you. Had refused to let himself think of what you'd look like half-naked under a stream of running water. Had focused his mind entirely on the grout between the tiles, considering whether or not it would look better grey instead of white.

Truth be told, he probably wouldn't have gotten hard anyways. Was too nervous. Scared of doing or saying the wrong thing. Scared that you'd reject his offer. It's not like he was getting anything out of it - it really had been to help ease you into the idea of sharing a shower not being absolutely terrifying to you - but rejection is never nice in any capacity. 

You shuffle beneath his sheets and sigh in such a way that he's almost positive you're asleep. Strange enigma of a woman, he thinks as he smiles to himself. You're so mild-mannered and peaceful in one moment, then causing chaos in the next.

He's glad to have you around. Glad that Jimin was a little crap in bed. Glad that you didn't want to hang out with Jimin all the time instead of him. Glad. Just glad.

But then his mind starts to wonder. Starts thinking about what could have happened if he had gotten a boner. Would you really be that repulsed?

He shakes his head. Tries to rid himself of the thought. It's completely inappropriate. The time spent together beneath the cascading water of his shower had been such a vulnerable moment for you. He's thinking about it as his cock is getting hard. It's so wrong. He feels like a shitty friend. 

Palming at his crotch, Jungkook tries to stop the chain reaction that is happening. It's fruitless though.  The contact only makes it worse.

Jungkook says nothing as he gets to his feet and excuses himself from his room. He can't think straight. Decides the alcohol is at fault - but as he looks in his bathroom mirror, he can't help but curse.

There's no denying how hard he is. Not even a little firm. He's solid.

"Fuck," he groans, resting his palms on the counter, hanging his head between his shoulders. He shakes it. Knows that his current predicament is just circumstantial.

It's not that he actively thinks about you in that capacity, but the conversation you'd been engaged in has his mind wondering. Has him thinking about what the realities of the vetoed bird could look like. The way you'd close your eyes. The way you'd moan. The movements of your body; the squirm of your hips. The scent. The taste.

One of his hands drops from the counter. Palms at his crotch. Dips into the waistband of his boxers. "Shit."

He can't picture anything. Not really. He's never seen you in that capacity, so it's a little hard to imagine it - but he can seem to imagine the sensation seeing it would make him feel. How he'd get a little breathless. How he'd watch you as you watched him. He thinks about your eyes. Thinks about your glitter. Thinks about how it would shine with every movement of your body.

He untucks from his boxers, and strokes gently. Once, twice. "Fuck." Three times. A fourth.

There's a tightening in his chest, as if his logical mind is trying to make him stop. He pulls at his cock, bringing himself closer and closer to release. Once he cums, it will be fine. Just pent-up frustration. He wouldn't even be thinking about you like this if he wasn't clearly horny. He probably could have gotten laid tonight had he not drawn himself away from the girl in the club. 

That's it, he decides. That's what this is. Just a misplaced need for release.

It's a shame he doesn't know how restless you are beneath his sheets. How your hand crept down your body the moment he left the room; mind plagued with the idea of getting off with him. How you toy with your exposed pussy, wearing only his shirt.

You know you shouldn't. You're in Jungkook's bed. He has to sleep in here. His sheets smell like him. 

Yet as you tell yourself no, it's the reasons why you should stop that seem to spur you on more. It does smell like Jungkook. Smells like safety. If that isn't the best environment to get yourself off in, then what is?

You think about his back, and then you think about his arms wrapped around you and—"fuck"— it's not even the idea of him that's getting you wet; it's the idea of safety. Yes, it was his arms, but it's not the fact they're his which have you feeling this way; it's the fact you know they wouldn't drop you. And even if they did? You'd not be falling from some great height.

Realigning your mind, you let your mind wander to where it usually does in the early hours of the morning; Seokjin's kitchen, and the time he took you from behind when you'd been making dinner. 

It's your failsafe. Always gets you off remembering it. You think of his hands - strong, wide - and how they'd gripped at your waist. You think of his lips - soft, plump - against your throat. You're thinking of the view across the city from his apartment. Thinking about the way he'd turned you round; carried you to it. 

His apartment had been in a high-rise in the heart of the city. Not too far from Jungkook's, actually. The windows spanned the entire wall, and you'd always been envious of the fact he got to wake up to it on the daily. 

He'd put you down; turned you back around to face it. Had stripped you of your clothes. Pressed you against the window. Fucked his cock into you with such aggression that it almost seemed as if he wanted the glass to break. Fucked you so well that when you came, it felt like you were freefalling, even with the glass intact.

It's thinking about that orgasm that always gets your pussy clenching around your toys at home - but you're without them, and your hands just aren't doing the trick. Your brain jumps from thought to thought. Lands on the reason why you don't have your toys: you're at Jungkook's place. And then, because it's just as annoying as you are,  your head is just ribbiting his name at you. 

"Go away," you whine, but continue to play with your clit regardless. You're so close. "Just let me finish."

And it's funny, 'cause Jungkook's in his bathroom looking at the mess in the sink with a face of pure disgust. It's not the fact he got himself off that bothers him. Not the fact he whined a little too loud when he did so. Nothing like that at all.

It's that he'd been trying to think about the kiss he'd had that evening—the smell of her perfume, the softness of her lips—wanting it to be in his head when he came. He grew closer, and closer, and then—"oh, fuck"—why are you there? Why is he thinking about your gaze from the bar? And why is it that his brain always locks into one singular thought whenever he cums?

He just really hopes you didn't hear him curse out your name as he did so.

But you didn't. Were too busy having your own dilemma—one of which you're only just coming back down from when Jungkook re-enters the room. You wonder if he'll know. Wonder if he'll be able to smell your arousal. Wonder if he'll even figure out that's what the scent is.

Neither of you greets the other. He just gets back into his little pile of pillows. It's kind of funny. If weren't so paranoid about him knowing, you'd make a joke of it. Doesn't feel very funny, now.

Silence consumes the room. You don't even know if he knows you're awake. It's so awkward you quite literally wanted to shrivel up and die.

Okay, so you're being dramatic, but it really does feel that catastrophic to you. As if irrevocable damage has been done. As if you've ruined the friendship all by yourself - but then it has you thinking. He'd been gone for just the right amount of time for you to draw a release from yourself. It wasn't long, but it wasn't entirely speedy, either.

Jungkook shuffles. Lies on his back. Hands linked over his stomach.

"Kook..." Your voice whispers into the darkness.

"Mhmm?"

He sounds sleepy. Sounds well spent. You know you'll regret it, but you just kind of have to know.

"Did you... just..."

He pauses. Takes a deep breath. Finishes your sentence for you. "Get myself off?"

"Mhmm."

There's silence. It lasts no longer than a few seconds, but it feels like a lifetime to you.

"You want me to lie?" He asks, clearly wanting to avoid the truth.

"Depends on what the lie would be."

Silence resumes. Is broken with a sigh.

"No," he says - and then he clarifies. "'No' would be the lie."

You nod, understanding exactly what he means, crown of your head patting against his pillow.

And yet still, you push. You want a clear answer.

"In that case," you say a little shakily. "I'd like the truth."

"Okay," he replies, voice much stronger than yours. " Ask me again. Full-sentence. None of that trailing-off bullshit you do. If you want a direct answer, give me a direct question."

And so you do.

"Did you just get yourself off?"

"Yes."

Fuck.

"Me too."

He laughs. Feels a weight ease. Can't fight the smile that's beaming even in a dark room. What a fucking relief. "Did we just... do your bird?"

And then you're laughing too at how fucking ridiculous the situation is. "In a way."

A peaceful quietness settles over the pair of you. Calmness. Contentedness. You're on a level playing field.

"Hey Kook," you say after a moment.

"What now?" He moans, but you know he's smiling.

"What were you thinking about?"

And then rather suddenly he decides, "That's enough of this conversation. Night, Byeol."

"Oh my god, no," you protest, sitting up in his bed to look in his direction. The low-light level obscures him, but it doesn't matter. "What were you thinking about?"

"Byeol," he scolds. 

Although, in a way, it's kind of the answer.

"Jungkook," you scold right back.

"Wasn't thinking about anything. Go to sleep."

His denial is a silent scream. You think you know. Think it's fucking hilarious.

"Were you thinking about me?"

"No," he lies. "It'd make me go soft—hey!" Jungkook laughs as one of the pillows from his bed smacks against his face. "Well, were you thinking about me?" He banters back.

You laugh. "You forget I've fucked your housemate."

"OUCH."

You smile, all rather pleased with yourself, knowing it will play on his mind. Good. Serve him right for being a petulant little shit. "Night, Kook."

"Have nightmares," he says, and you just continue grinning as you snuggle up in his sheets.

"Already living one."

You don't discuss the night before when you're getting ready to leave a few hours later. You've work in the afternoon, and really want a proper shower at your own place before you rock up with blue poster paint still down your neck.

Jungkook feigns a hangover worse than it actually is. Says shit like, "I barely remember it," just so that you won't ask questions about why exactly he felt the need to excuse himself to the bathroom. 

He's not even really entirely sure why he did it. Obviously, he knows it's because he got himself too excited, just not why he got so excited. Just knows that he needs to figure out what's going on himself before he can breach the topic of conversation with you again.

You tell him you had a good night, and he says the same. It was nice for him to be out with you for once, instead of being an outsider looking in.

When you arrive at work that afternoon, Hoseok is tapping at his wrist. "What time do you call this?"

You roll your eyes, but your smile is warm. "Time you got a watch. How many painters we got in?"

"Full house," he says. "Only a few more prebooks for the rest of the day, though. No one booked in after eight, at least."

You ask him about his day, and let him babble on as you set about cleaning up the palettes he left for you to clear. He's been in work since midday, so has had to work through the heavy flow of customers coming in and out. Still wet, the chalky alkaline scent of the paint takes you back to the night before.

Has you thinking about Jungkook; his toned back, and the rivulet of green-tainted water you'd watched run down it. Funny, how he'd been hues of blue—cerulean strands of hair, emerald caught under the ridge of his jaw—whereas you'd been a peachy daydream, pinks on your skin to match your lips.

The palettes turn the sink water a murky brown. Looks a little like dirt. You wonder if that's what the hues of you and Jungkook would make together. Decide it's a good job you'll never find out.

But daisies push through dirt, you consider. There could be growth there. 

You let the water drain out, and rinse the boards off a final time, before you get to work on the brushes. Hosoek is greeting customers—"I love it. That shade of blue? Perfect. Come again soon!"—leaving you to your own devices, until a deep voice pulls your attention from the canvases you're organising. 

"I'm actually here to enquire about using the gallery space for a sho- oh. Hey," the owner of the voice says as he spots your eyes on him. 

Talk, dark and handsome, Kim Taehyung looks even better in the daylight. 

Dressed down in a white shirt and a pair of slacks, he's unassuming, but a frame like his commands attention. How Danbi is able to resist, you'll never know. Half think that maybe it would've been better if he'd been the one to have first caught your eye in Dionysus - but you're sure if Jimin was here instead, you'd be marvelling at how you'd landed someone as ethereal as him. The curse of attractive boys.

"Hey," you smile as you wipe your hands on a slightly paint-stained cloth. You whip it over your shoulder, and Taheyung smiles back. He wonders if that was something you did before you met Jungkook, or if he's rubbing off on you. "Watcha doin' here?"

"Bit of a strange request, actually," he prefaces. "I'm looking for gallery space."

"Gallery space?" You question, reaching over for the thick diary kept behind the desk. You keep your eyes on his as he awkwardly begins to explain, pulling the diary pencil from the pages it's currently lodged between.

"Yeah. I'm looking to exhibit some of my work—a few artists' works, actually. All local." He holds up a black folder and taps it. You reach out your hand to receive it, and pass the diary over to Hoseok. "It's all in here. Concepts, artists, pieces. Even pre-written a press release for you."

You flick through the pages of the folder. It's typical of artists who request to use the space to provide you with something like this, but you can really see the care put into it. It's a collection he's curated, with the intent of finally getting his name out there in the art world.

The title page is a singular word: Requited.

"It's a study on the conflicting meanings of the word," Taehyung explains, and you can see what he means instantly. Many of the pieces photographed in the exhibition pre-guide are dark - reds, deep browns. Passionate. "To avenge; to love."

You nod, flicking through the pages, still. It's an impressive collection, and you recognise one of the art styles from an account you follow on Instagram. "Why here?"

Taehyung grits his teeth together in a way that you just know means a lie is coming. "We want our work to be shown in a place that emulates the feeling of creation - we could host workshops during the exhibition period. Runs promotions with you, help"—

"Cut the bullshit," you grin. "C'mon. This is a solid collection. Solid pitch. The folder, at least, your delivery could use a little work-"

"Hey, I'm only acting relaxed 'cause I know what you look like after one too many drinks."

"You want to exhibit here or not?" You tease.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He laughs, holding his hands out, but not reaching over to touch you. "Honestly? The bigger galleries have dismissed us. I think they're holding out for bigger collections, and the smaller galleries are booked up till Christmas."

"You're trying to get in before the end of the year?"

"Ideally, yeah," Taehyung nods, a little apprehensively as Hoseok hands you back the diary. You swap, and he flicks through Taehyung's folder, nodding in appreciation. "End of October, start of November."

"Hoping for holiday sales?" You ask, to which he nods again.

"If we're at the start of the season, hopefully we'll be the one that buyers come back to," he explains. "And I meant what I said about the workshops. Your peak must be the winter months, right? People looking for something to do indoors?"

You nod. You've actively been enjoying the summer lull. Aren't looking forward to the upcoming season - at work, at least. You love autumn in your own time.

"We could host events," Taheyung suggests. "Charge a little more than usual for guided workshops. You could get a nice Christmas bonus."

It's not a bad idea by any stretch of the imagination, and if the boss agrees to it, it could actually make the upcoming busy season a lot more bearable for you if it's more structured. 

"If it were up to me, I'd say yes," you tell him. His eyes light up like embers from a smoking fire, but they simmer quickly. He knows it isn't up to you. "Is it okay if we hold onto your folder? See what the boss says?"

He nods like one of those dog figurines your grandfather used to keep on his windowsills. His enthusiasm is sweet, and you hope that your boss is just as keen as you are.

"How long until you know, do you think?"

"Give us a week, maybe?" You say. "There's space in the diary between events at the start of November. Hopefully if I structure a plan, make it easy for my boss, there'll be no reason to say no."

"You're a legend," he beams.

"Don't speak too soon," you remind him. "Still gotta get approval first."

"I know, I know," he nods. "You guys are the first place that's actually given us a look in, though. When Jungkook suggested here, I kind"—

"He suggested this place?" You smile a little bemused.

"Yeah," Tae confirms. "Didn't say you worked here, though."

"Well," you say with a scrunch of your nose. "I do. Surprise."

The biggest surprise, you think, is that Jungkook remembers.

"I'm glad you do, though. Feels like the collection will be in safe hands."

You know that he's mostly glad because it means the chances of Danbi coming to the exhibition will rise quite significantly, but you're not well-acquainted enough yet to tease him like that, so you just smile.

"I'll let you know, okay? I can give the folder back to Jungkook for him to pass on if I don't see you before the end of next week."

Taehyung doesn't question it, but Hoseok glances over, eyes a little narrow. He knows there's something going on there. Just isn't sure what.

"Legend," Taehyung says again despite your previous protests. "You're the best, Disco Ball."

"Stop calling me that!" You call after him to no avail. 

He just waves back and heads out the door, into the afternoon sun. You tuck the folder beneath the diary and put it into the desk organiser that the boss always checks, before scribbling out a post-it note to explain. 

Their presence in the cafe is so infrequent that you never know when they'll next be in, and you worry that you'll miss it. Sure, you could just leave it in the hands of Hoseok, but you don't entirely trust him to relay all the important information.

He clocks out just after seven, leaving you to deal with the wind-down of the day shift. It's been quiet, only a handful of customers coming in throughout the evening. The last couple in— teenagers on a first date, by the look of things—leave at nine. 

It's perfect timing, as the last entry is also at nine, meaning you don't have to worry about any latecomers staying till eleven. You can close up early, which is always a dream—especially on the shifts after a night out. The sooner you can snuggle into your own bed, the better.

It's not that you don't like Jungkook's bed. His mattress is perfectly firm, and his pillows really are to die for. It's just that nothing compares to home.

The closing routine is more work than you really care for. Restocking, cleaning, making sure everything is operational for an easy opening in the morning. 

Occasionally, you'll work a morning shift and spend the entire time finishing off jobs that staff from the night before neglected to do. It pisses you off. You've been known to leave passive-aggressive post-it notes on occasion. Always signed with a  smiley face and a kiss. Hoseok tells you that one of the other girls is gonna bitch slap you one day. You tell him good—would like to see her try. But what's a shitty job without a little drama?

It's as you're thinking about this potential conflict that your very real source of contention shows up at the door. He's dressed down, wearing a jacket that looks big enough to fit his entire friendship group within it, and a black baseball cap to hide the fact he hasn't styled his hair. 

There's something nice about seeing him like this—you so often get him in the gym, or at work— that it's pleasant to see Jeon Jungkook as a normal person. See him as other people do.

You won't clue him in on this, though.

"Last entry was twenty minutes ago, Jeon."

The grin on his face as he leans against the door frame is something he's unable to hide—and why would he? There's no need to play games. Not here. Not with you. "Ouch, last name basis? What have I done?"

"Nothing," you say and smile back. He really hasn't—you're just trying to create distance. Reinstate boundaries that had been made a little blurry. "What brings you here?"

As he walks into the room—uninvited, may you add—he looks thoughtful, eyes all wide and inquisitive. He's never visited your place of work before. You've seen his workplace what feels like a hundred times over, so it's nice for him to finally have a visual of yours. 

He won't mention that Taehyung talking about your workplace had made him curious.

It's not what he expected. For starters, he imagined there'd be far more mess—though he does notice the cleaning cloth in your hand, and how it's saturated in all shades of acrylic, so perhaps you're just diligent. 

Up two flights of stairs, the cafe occupies the top unit of a commercial building. There's a hairdresser on the floor below and a deli on the floor below that, so the entryway normally either smells like peroxide or pepperoni - no in between. Occasionally it smells like paint, too, but it's a far less intrusive scent. 

The walls are covered in canvases - ones left by customers, prints of famous works, offerings by local artists. Easels are scattered around the room, set up in pairs with small tables for the art supplies between them. Jungkook decides very quickly which spot he likes most - the easels by the window in the far corner. Thinks if he ever took a girl here on a date, that's where he'd like to sit.

Then again, he won't be doing that anytime soon - not unless one of those damn birds tells him to.

You follow his gaze to the window seats and smile. 

It's your favourite spot. S'why there's a cushion on the chair. It's for you. You sit there on your break with a book when it's quiet.

"Nothing," he says, but pulls a piece of carefully folded paper from his back pocket and tosses it down onto the counter. You glance down at it. Another fucking bird. Can see the wings don't line up. Say nothing, but slowly look back up at him. "Well, this has something to do with it. Fell while I was at the gym. Was waiting for me when I got home."

You nod. Run your tongue along your teeth as your lips purse. It's barely been half a day since the last. Hardly fair.

"Have you read it?" You ask, moving behind the counter. You're creating distance all over again. Jungkook notices. Creates his own by retreating to one of the waiting room stools, where he takes a perch.

It's gotta be a big one. He wouldn't be here if he wasn't.

He sits, hands between his legs. Seems a little agitated. Doesn't seem quite himself. "One of yours." 

But then his posture eases. He sighs. Pulls a second bird from his jacket pocket, and holds it up. "One of mine..." he opens it. Bites his bottom lip as a laugh exhales, his eyes skimming over it. With a shake of his head, he reads it aloud: "Suggest an idea you know will get rejected."

He lingers on the final syllable, but then casts his eyes up to yours. The way he stares, so piercing and domineering is an absolute head fuck. He can be so soft and gentle in one moment, then completely unrecognisable in the next. It's what has your voice so quiet as you finally give a reply.

"And have you?"

Wouldn't be here if he had, you think. Stupid question.

He confirms this.

"I'm about to."

And for some reason, it has you smirking. Heartbeat racing. 

That's the thing about Jungkook: he's unpredictable. 

You had heard from Yoongi the night before that he's started acting out of character, though in a way, it's apparently reminiscent of his 'old self'. You can't say definitely because you never knew him before he was broken, but it feels like perhaps he's healing.

"I'm intrigued," you tell him, which doesn't earn the smile you think it will.

In fact, he looks deadly serious as he says, "Promise me something?"

You're tepid as you nod. It's a no-brainer—of course you'll make a promise with him—but you can't help but be fearful of why you'd need to promise anything ahead of time. Does he not trust you?

He looks to his feet, where the toes of his right foot are perched up on the toes of his left. He's in his hightops again following a stint at the laundrette to tumble dry them. Behind the counter, so are you. "You'll hear me out first?"

"Of course I will."

"You and I..." he begins slowly. "Our friendship is good, right?"

You nod. Stupid question. "Right."

"And it's just friendship, isn't it?"

"Well, yeah?" You half-laugh. Still haven't discussed the events of last night yet.

And then almost out of the blue, Jungkook decides to really reinforce the broken boundaries.

"You fucked Jimin."

The way you cringe is borderline insane; face all scrunched up, cheeks flaming red. It was just sex. You don't know why Jungkook mentioning it seems to bother you so much. 

"Thanks for the reminder, yep," you say through gritted teeth. "I did fuck Jimin."

Still, it's not like it's the worst fuck you've ever had. There's just room for improvement. Maybe he'll redeem himself one day.

"And we're both completely emotionally unavailable?"

"Speak for yourself."

"Byeol," he smirks, amused by how often you seem to talk out of your ass. Conversations are never straightforward with you. Not entirely.

"Okay, okay!" You relent with a firm roll of your eyes. "I'm a little emotionally unavailable."

"Thanks for admitting it," he says, choosing not the question the 'a little'. You both know it should be 'completely'. "I have a question. A question before I make my suggestion."

"Go on.." you hesitate. 

"The birds. Are the birds helping?"

"With?"

"Your intimacy issues. Like say you hooked up with a randomer tomorrow, would you be able to think clearly if they suggested a shower?"

It's a good question. One that you really don't know the answer to. 

"Maybe?" you say, voice a little higher than typical. "My heart rate definitely feels a lot lower than it normally does when I consider it."

It's not a lie. Normally your hands would feel a little itchy, but you've barely broken a sweat.  You are, admittedly, thinking about the shower with Jungkook, and how platonic it had been - but maybe that's exactly it. Maybe equating these big moments to nothing scarier than friendship is what helped.

"Okay, that's good," he replies before taking a second to gather his thoughts. "The birds... They're helping me. I never would have gotten that girl's number without them. Without you."

"You're welcome, Cassanova."

"And I'm thankful," he smiles, and you can almost feel his sincerity. "I really am. Been chasing my tail for far too long."

This admission silently delights you. It's rewarding to help someone through their healing process, no matter how large or small. To be included at all is an honour.

"So?" You lean your elbows on the counter. "Your suggestion?"

He sighs. As uncomplicated as he finds your company, he still doesn't find any of this easy. There's a massive mental hurdle for him to overcome.

You get it. You really do. Even though your troubles are different, they still come from the same place. They're matters of the heart, and they're by far the hardest things to untangle yourself from. Seokjin's still got a grasp on your puppet strings, and Jungkook's former fling still has a hold on his, it would seem.

"Hey," you smile. Jungkook thinks you look warm. Homely. "Nothing to be scared of. Just me. Just us."

His brows furrow and ease all within the same second. He knows those words. Knows he used similar ones on you the night before. Perhaps he really should start listening to his own advice, because it's just what he needed to hear.

"I think... I think maybe we should just...," he pauses. Looks to his hands and then back up to you. "Say fuck it?"

You grin, bemused. "Fuck it?"

It's not an instant yes. Jungkook can't blame you for it - but it just reminds him that he has to be specific. He'd grated you about that last night, too. He can't be a hypocrite now.

"Okay, so... The birds, right?" He asks, but he isn't really asking anything. Just forming his words. Still, you nod. Encourage him to go on. "Whenever they fall, we're always like 'oh fuck,' right?"

 Again, you nod. 

"I just... I think the only reason we're hesitant to do your birds is 'cause we think we shouldn't do them. Like we think it will be a recipe for disaster... But... why? It's not like there are any confused feelings or ulterior motives. If I did your birds with you, I wouldn't be doing anything for like... my own gain? Just like you aren't with mine."

You stop yourself from interrupting. He's clearly struggling to form the words, eyes darting to his hands every time he catches your gaze.

"I know, I know," he rambles on. "You shouldn't fuck your friends. Shouldn't shit where you eat. But it's not fucking for the sake of fucking - and like, honestly, I don't actually know if any of your birds include fucking-"

"They do."

"Okay, brilliant, so they do," he laughs. Somehow a weight seems to ease. If anything, that admission should add more pressure. "It doesn't matter. Look all I'm saying is that I'm okay to do your birds, no matter how obscure they get. If that means me getting you used to sharing a shower with someone, so be it. It doesn't have to be sexual, even if the end goal will be used in that capacity."

You understand the sentiment, but there's one undeniable; your birds are all about sex.

"Kook, I wrote some pretty..." You pause. It's your turn to struggle, now. "How do I say this? ...Intimate things on my birds."

"Fear of intimacy," he nods, and then he smirks. "I know. I'm not naive to what that entails. I know I'm a boy, but give me some credit, Byeol."

"Sorry."

The smiles you exchange are delightfully insolent, just like the make-believe fairies you imagine are dancing around you right now, tickling at your skin with miniature wee pinches just to get you giggling. So childish of the pair of you to behave this way in such a serious conversation.

"What I mean is that it's being done with a purpose. It's not just sex for the sake of sex, or whatever it may be," he says. "Like if I'm fucking you, it's not fucking. It'd be like... therapy?"

"I think you'd get fired if you were my therapist," you grin. "It's so weird hearing you talk about sex knowing that you're talking about having sex with me." 

It really is all a bit strange.

"But that's the beauty of it. The stakes are at zero. There's no worry of disappointment, no worry of getting heartbroken, no worry of anything that could go wrong - the birds tell us what to do, we do it," he explains, finally able to get his words out. "And look - I won't lie - I've been out of practice for a while, so it'd probably help with my confidence, too."

You scrunch your nose a little. "That doesn't fill me with hope for your skills."

He rolls his eyes. "It's not about my skill level, Byeol. That's beyond the point. It's about your association with sex and intimacy. If we can separate your association with certain sexual acts from intimacy, then they'll seem a lot less daunting in future relationships. Like, call me crazy, but I really think this could work."

"Okay, so you are crazy... but," you begin. He laughs, knowing that you're never able to resist the role of devil's advocate. "Hypothetically speaking- we get you a date. We get you a girl you're really interested in, but there are still a fuck tonne of birds? Then what?"

"Well, by that point hopefully we'll have worked through enough of our respective issues. I'm not gonna magically become a lothario overnight, am I? It will take time," he emphasises. "By the time I'm ready for that, I'm pretty sure you'll also be ready to explore this shit with someone you actually care about."

It's funny. You do care about him. Wouldn't even be considering this if you didn't.

"I'm not convinced," you say. It's a nice idea, but there's no way your timelines will be linear. Your breakup is far fresher - but you don't realise just how deep his wounds go. Perhaps it will take him just as much time.

He nods. Appreciates your honesty. Rereads his bird. "Suggest an idea you know will be rejected. I didn't come here thinking you'd agree, Byeol, but I also don't think it's a bad idea."

"And if I do agree?"

"There's a bird already waiting," he gestures towards the one on the countertop. It's sitting, untouched by you, in a very sorry state. You really are terrible at origami. 

"Can I... have some time to think?"

His proposition is a big ask. Jungkook knows this. So far, you've been dancing around the notion of a somewhat unconventional friendship, but escalating things will really cement it. There'll likely be no going back.

And so he says, "I have a lot of trust in our friendship, Byeol. I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't think we could handle it. I know it's a lot though, and I've already wasted enough of your time tonight, so I'll leave you be, okay?" He gets to his feet, and places his bird down on the counter. It's yours now. He's set it free. "Text me when you get home? Not for like, anything in particular, I don't need an answer now. Just so that I know you're home safe."

"Okay," you nod as he walks to the door. "Bye, Kook."

He glances over his shoulder and presses his lips together, his silver lip ring flipping ever so slightly. "Bye, Byeol."

There's a shift as he leaves. The air feels colder; the light dimmer. You're left with your thought and nothing but a little regret simmering in your stomach. The feeling of safety that comes with Jungkook leaves when he does. You don't like it. Want it back.

"Shit," you curse, tossing your own bird down onto the counter. Running for the door, You call after him. "Hey! Kook, wait!

By the foot of the stairs, Jungkook turns. Take a single step back up. Stops himself from walking the full distance. 

"You gotta promise me one thing," you say, but it's posed more as a question.

He'll promise you whatever you ask - within reason. "What?"

"If we do this, it won't fuck up your friendship with Jimin?"

"Why would—Ohhh," he snorts. "'Cause you fucked him."

"Yes, again, thank you for the reminder. I'm sure the entire building needs to know that."

"Shut up, there's like no one else here."

"It's the principle."

"The Jimin thing is fine," he says. He wouldn't have suggested this if he thought it would impact anything within his existing friendships. He cares about Jimin probably more than he cares for you. It's in slightly different capacities, admittedly, but that doesn't matter. "No offence, but he doesn't sit there lamenting the way you left him that night."

"Yes he does," you challenge, knowing Jungkook is absolutely correct. "Don't lie."

"Will it make you feel better if I pretend he does?"

"Yes."

"Okay, fine, he stares and the door and pines for your return like a lovesick puppy—happy?"

It's funny, 'cause it's probably what Jimin would actually say about Jungkook instead. Always a little mopier after his time spent with you is finished.

"Much happier," you grin. "But I'm serious. I don't wanna cause you issues."

"I'd be causing myself issues," he insists. "It wouldn't be your fault. But no, it'll be fine."

You take a second to breathe. Let your cheeks plumpen as air exhales from your lips. "Alright. Let's try it. The bird that fell today, let's try it, and see how it goes? If it's too weird"—

"We can back out," he nods. "No harm, no foul."

"You got anywhere to be? Wanna wait with me while I finish up and then..."

The beat of your heart is so rapid that you think you might have a heart attack—but as Jungkook makes his way up the stairs, it seems to settle. This is fine.

"And then?"

"Then we'll do the damn bird."

minors dni | wattpad | series masterlist |

[faithdeans]

bisexuals really do have a certain je ne sais quoi. they probably know the secrets of the universe

***misha collins DNI***

[artsyaech]

~welcome to the sunflower field~

[image ID: a field of hundreds of sunflowers. in the distance you can see what appears to be a hill. over the field is a sunset with clouds in the sky END ID]

my names are

aech

froggie

kaos

mayhem

ocean

kandi

and i'm just one out of hundreds of xenogender coining blogs. my old blog got deleted on accident (because i'm a dumdum) but i'm the original artsyaech, trust me. i have tons of pronoun sets but here are some you can call me by:

hán/háni/háns

xae/xaer/xaerself

art/arts/artself

xeph/xephs/xephself

frog/frogs/frogself

quoi/quois/quoiself

zix/zix/zixself

boop/boops/boopself

sol/sols/solself

star/stars/starself

🌻/🌻s/🌻self [emoji ID: sunflower emoji]

i'm a white icelander with scottish ancestry, so i'm as white as can be lol. i'm xenogender and genderfluid as well as objectum, aspec and abrosexual. i'm autistic, have adhd, depression and anxiety (diagnosed) as well as questioning if i have anything more.

i am otherkin. i’m an alien so please refrain from using humane terms to describe me

special interests atm: gorillaz, the sims, postal, mcr and mlp (if you request anything related to these things, i will 100% make it)

my bestie is @hip-albatross (go send him some love, void is amazing)

(help with image IDs would be very much appreciated)

tagging system

[PT: tagging system]

search for #aech’s terms if you just wanna see my gendies and other terms

#aech rambles is just for my little ramblings

#aech’s asks is for my asks

#aech reblogs is for reblogs (some of my older reblogs don’t have that tag, fyi)

#aech helps with neos or themed pronouns for pronoun/name help :)

#aech gives tips for alterhuman self-care tips

accessibility tags

#needs id is for posts that don’t have image ID (that i might add later)

#has id is for posts that have image ID (sometimes, i will add this myself)

what i will do:

xenogenders

aldernic terms

objectum terms

themed names and pronouns

what i will not do:

coining anything potentially problematic

coining anything on my blacklist

term searching

flag combos

flag requests: open!

name and pronoun requests: open!

DNI and blacklist under cut

dni: anti-mogai, anti-xenogenders, anti-neopronouns, anti-polyamory, anti-sex work, anti-abortion, mspec lesbian exclusionists, mspec gay exclusionists, anti-feminist, republicans, TERFS, SWERFS, radfems, transcum, transmeds, truscum, nazis, sexists, homophobes, misogynists, trump supporters, transphobes, queerphobes, racists, ableists, saneists, xenophobes, anti-BLM, pro-cop, superstraights, flop accounts, troll accounts, kink/NSFW (that includes H3nt41 and 3cch1), anti-agere, “MAP/p*dosexual”, “r*pesexual”, “racefluid”, “dreamsexual” (pertaining to the dsmp), “zoosexual”, “n*crosexuals” zoophiles, gold star lesbians, “transracials” RCTA, ECTA, people who support subs like r/DIDCringe or r/FakeDisorderCringe, xenoid/xenoidentities and their supporters, autism speaks supporters, light it up blue supporters, people who sexualize agere, proshippers, transid/transx, against researched self- diagnosis, demonize any mental disorder, against alterhumans, ‘consang’, think fiction doesn’t affect reality, pro-incest, pro-sh, jk rowling fans/apologists, pro-ano/thinspo

blacklist (general): gore, real violence, real death, MAPs, l*licon, sh*tacon, s/a, s/h, su*cide, eating disorders, s*xual topics/imagery, addiction, pregnacy and childbirth, hospitals and hospital imagery

blacklist (media/people): FNF, DSMP, harry potter and other j.k. rowling media, countryhumans, hetalia, black butler, killing stalking, hisoka from hxh, yarichin bitch club, boku no pico, helluva boss / hazbin hotel, kalvin garrah, shane dawson, trisha paytas, jschlatt, sia

reminder that in some cases the media on the blacklist is not inherently problematic, i’m just uncomfortable with it.

[seraphimroundup]

If you message me and i seem uninterested i promise i am intrested im just really bad at talking to people- i also dont have a high social battery so i might have to like step back everyonce in a while

Hello! I go by Apollo, Loki, Gabriel, and Castiel. I’m 19 and would prefer only adults on my account if possible, I know there’s only so much I can do about that though.

I use mainly It/It’s, Wing/Wing’s/Wingself, Seraph/Seraph’s/Seraphself, Sun/Sun’s/Sunself, Honk/Honk’s/Honkself, ☀️/☀️’s/☀️self, 🐍/🐍’s/🐍self, 🐝/🐝’s/🐝self, 🍬/🍬’s/🍬self, and 🍯/🍯’s/🍯self. I will add a full list of my pronouns and genders under the cut! :) ( it's still being updated and I will try to remember to update on here too )

I'm Otherkin and Fictionkin I think?

I'm a Polymorph Celestial Otherkin, the Celestial part is fictionkin mixed, it's a mixture of our world’s angels and demons, and Supernatural’s angels and demons!

I also think I'm fictionkin as in like, I'm Castiel and Gabriel but I'm still figuring it out :) also Chuck kins please DNI, nothing against you personally the trauma is still a bit fresh is all. If you share a Kin with me or with anyone I love please follow!

I also will not get involved in discourse, I don't want radqueers or anything like that on my page, basically don't be a dick and we’re chill. I won't make a DNI ill just block people because I can't think enough to make one atm.

By @mmadeinheavenn

By me!

By @dxmnsvoid :))

For more context on being forced to leave heaven, i didn’t fall, i left on my own accord due to my father and brothers and im in hiding ( Gabrielkin specific )

GENDERS

MoonHigh

SunHigh

Lovecelestiasic

SKYRIMIC

Riftenhearthic

Occultfloric

Lunaeyn

BPDwitch

Malificae

Liminalschoolgender

Voidpunk

Agender

Crypgender

Hereticaldernic

DESTORIUNE

Cryptidboy

ROCKSTARELIC

Pronouns

a

al/ alt/ mer/ mers/ altmerself

Abyss/abyss/abysself

b

Bloo/ blood/ blood/ bloods/ bloodself

Byte/ bytes/ bytes/ byteself

bar/ bards/ bardself

Bite/ bites

bolt/ bolts

bone/ bones

c

Clown/ Clown/ Clowns/ Clowns/ Clownself

Corpse/ Corpse/ Corpses/ Corpses/ Corpseself

Critter/ Critter/ Critters/ Critters/ Critterself.

Cryp/ Cryp/ Crypts /Crypts /Cryptself

Chao /Chao/ Chaos/ Chaos/ Chaoself

Charge/ Charges

d

Dae/ Dae/ Daer/ Daers/ Daemself

Duke/ duke/ dukes/ dukes/ dukeself

e

Eye/ Eye/ Eyes/ Eyes/ Eyeself

Eerie/ eerie/ eeries/ eeries/ eerieself

f

Fae/ Fae/ Faer/ Faers/ Faerself

Flame/ Flame/ flars/ flars/ flameself

flirt/flirts

g

Glitch/ Glitch/ Gliches/ Glitches/ Glitchself

Guts/ Guts/ Guts/ Guts/ Gutsself

Gore/ Gore/ Gores/ Gores/ Goreself

h

H0nk/ H0nk/ H0nks/ H0nks/ H0nkself

Honk/ Honk/ Honks/ Honks/ Honkself

i

It/ t/ It's/ It's/ Itsself

j

Ji/ jin/ jix/ jinx/ jinxself

Jester/ Jester/ Jesters/ Jesters/ Jesterself

k

Kandi/ kandi/ kandis/ kandis/ kandiself

l

Lau/ rel/ aur/ laur/ laurelself

Lyre /Lyres

m

Mo/ Moth/ Moths/ Moths/ Mothself

Moon/ Moons/ moons/ moonself

n

Ny/ Ny/ Nyx/ Nyx/ Nyxself

Nyc/ nycto/ nyctos/ nyctoself

Necro/ necrom/ necself

Nym/ nym/ nyms/ nyms/ nymself

null/ nulls/ nullself

o

One/ One/ Ones/ Ones/ Oneself

p

Pyre/ Pyre/ Pyres/ Pyres/ Pyreself

Pop/ Pop/ Pops/ Pops/ Popself

Punk/ punk/ punks/ punks/ punkself

q

quoi/quim

r

Rot/ Rot/ Rots/ Rots/ Rotsself

s

Sta/ static/ stas/ statics/ staticself

spark/ sparks

smoke/ smokes

sin/sinself

t

trance/trances/tranceself

u

v

Vamp/ Vamp/ Vamps/ Vamps/ Vampself

Voi/ Voi/ Voids/ Voids/ Voidself

w

wit/witch/witchself

x

y

z

other

.exe/ .exe/ .exe/ .exes/ .exeself

1t/1t/1tz/1tz/1tzelf

?/ ?s/ ?s/ ?/ ?self

!/!/!'s/!'s/!self

[Name]/ [Name]/ [Name]s/ [Name]s/ [Name]self

http/ http/ https/ https/ httpself

🌞/ 🌞/ 🌞s/ 🌞s/ 🌞self

🔥/🔥/🔥s/🔥s/🔥self

🤡/🤡/🤡s/🤡s/🤡self

🌙/🌙/🌙s/🌙s/🌙self

⚡/⚡/⚡s/⚡s/⚡self

✨/✨/✨s/✨s/✨self

🕸️ / 🕸️ /🕸️s /🕸️s /🕸️ self

🚬 / 🚬 / 🚬s / 🚬s/ 🚬self

💉/💉/💉s/💉s/💉self

🔌/🔌/🔌s/🔌s/🔌self

🍄/🍄/🍄s/🍄s/🍄self

⛓️/⛓️/⛓️s/⛓️s/⛓️self

🌾/🌾/🌾s/🌾s/🌾self

⭐️/ ⭐️/⭐️s/⭐️s/⭐️self

I'm also Skyrimhearthic!

[problematicseries]

NEW FANFIC SERIE - PROBLEMATIC SEASON 3

18+ content, minors dni

/!\ MAJOR SMUT, +18 CONTENT /!\

NOTE : this is all for fun, please keep in mind that no hate is sent to any of the people mentioned, THIS IS A FANFIC FOR FUN 🩷

All of the people mentioned in the fanfic are adults

FR FANFIC

——-

EPISODE 13 : white xmas pt.1

Tu te réveilles doucement, tes paupières luttant contre le poids du sommeil pour s'ouvrir sur la journée qui commence.

La pièce est baignée d'une lumière blanche et éclatante, filtrée à travers la baie vitrée. Tu jettes un regard par la fenêtre et découvres avec émerveillement que le campus s'est paré d'un manteau blanc, recouvert d'une fine couche de neige fraîche.

La vision te transporte dans un monde paisible et immaculé, t'invitant à profiter de la beauté hivernale qui s'étend à perte de vue. C'est comme si la nature avait déposé un voile de pureté sur le monde, effaçant les soucis de la veille et t'offrant un nouveau départ en ce jour naissant.

Tu te lèves et te place devant la baie vitrée pour regarder un peu mieux.

« de la neige à Los Angeles … on aura tout vu »

Jang se tient dans l’encadrement de ta porte, vêtue d'une combinaison de ski blanche moulante qui épouse parfaitement ses formes, mettant en valeur sa silhouette.

La fermeture éclair ouverte sur sa poitrine ajoute une touche de sensualité à sa tenue fonctionnelle.

Ses longs cheveux noirs brillants tombent en cascade autour de son visage, rehaussant son allure élégante. Elle porte des caches oreilles en fourrure pour se protéger du froid, ajoutant une touche de luxe à son ensemble.

Son visage est rehaussé d'un gloss pailleté qui brille comme des flocons de neige, ajoutant une note festive à son look hivernal.

« T’avais déjà tout prévu » tu lui réponds en levant un sourcil, encore dans ta fine lingerie.

« Bonjour Jang » gémis Iroha dans le lit, les paupières papillonnantes.

Jang s’approche d’Iroha « Tu vas bien ? bien dormi ? »

« Hm » réponds Iroha en se retournant dans les coussins.

Tu t’approches de Jang, lui prends la main et la tire dans la salle de bain.

« Ça va avec San ? » tu lui demandes, soucieuse.

« Oui parfait, pourquoi ça n’irait pas ? » répond t’elle avec un sourire étincelant, impassible.

Tu fronces les sourcils, elle continue son sourire plastique.

« Prépare toi, il faut pas qu’on soit en retard » te dit Jang en ouvrant la porte de la salle de bains.

« En retard où ? » tu lui demandes.

« ??? eh oh on se réveille, mon père vous attends Intak et toi pour les voeux du président avant le repas annuel » te répond comme si c’était une évidence.

En soit, c’était une évidence, elle te l’a dit la semaine dernière et de toutes façons, son père fait ça tous les ans.

« Intak ? » tu lui demandes en levant un sourcil.

« Meilleur choix que Mingi, de plus, mon père est super content de savoir que ma meilleure amie soit la copine du fils Hwang, donc soit gentille, cette fois ci, PAS DE DRAMA » dit-elle en te pointant du doigt et fronçant les sourcils.

« Tu pouvais pas choisir un autre mec genre je sais pas … Junghwan ? » tu lui réponds en te brossant les cheveux.

« Non, bien trop impliqué dans les problèmes récents » elle te répond.

« Juyeon ? » tu lui réponds.

« C’est le frère de Chae, on pactise pas avec l’ennemi ici » réponds Jang.

Iroha rejoint votre conversation et vous dit « Pourquoi pas Intak ? »

« NON PAS INTAK » tu réponds.

« ÇA VA IL EST GENTIL » Iroha te répond.

« T’es biaisée toi » répond Jang à Iroha en croisant les bras.

« Non » répond Iroha en fronçant les sourcils aussi avant de continuer « de toutes façons je l’ai invité à Tokyo pour le nouvel an ».

« QUOI ?! » tu réponds en hurlant.

« Depuis quand on invite les hommes de ses amies en date ? » réponds Jang, outrée.

Iroha lui répond « Mais c’est pas un date puisque vous venez tous chez moi pour le nouvel an ? »

« Première nouvelle » répond Jang en levant les sourcils.

« … t’étais pas au courant ? » demande Iroha sur un ton plus bas.

« Absolument PAS » répond Jang, croisant les bras, te regardant dans les yeux.

un silence s’abat dans la salle de bains.

« Envoie moi les informations sur le vol dans la journée, que je nous réserve le meilleur avion » dit Jang à Iroha.

« Très bien Jang » elle répond en s’inclinant.

Tu tapes l’épaule d’Iroha.

« T’inclines pas devant elle ça va pas » tu lui dis.

« Désolée, je veux juste pas qu’elle s’énerve » te répond t’elle.

Tu lèves les yeux au ciel alors que Jang sort de ta chambre en te laissant le carton d’invitation sur ton bureau.

Iroha file dans sa chambre s’habiller.

Tu t’approches du bureau afin de lire l’invitation.

« Bien dormi ? » demande San, accoudé sur l’encadrement de la porte.

Tu te retournes, surprise, tu lui réponds « Oui merci, j’espère que toi aussi »

« Ça peut aller » il répond en analysant ta chambre.

Tu le fixes.

Il te regarde.

« C’est bon ? » tu lui demandes.

« Oui » répond t’il avant de se retourner et partir dans le salon.

Tu fermes ta porte et file dans ton dressing pour trouver quoi te mettre.

Dans ton dressing, tu cherches une tenue élégante et appropriée pour la réception du père de Jang.

Tu optes pour une robe de cocktail chic, de préférence dans des tons neutres pour une allure sophistiquée.

Tu choisis également des accessoires assortis pour compléter ton look : des boucles d’oreilles en diamant et un sac à main Chanel.

Enfin, tu prends soin de choisir une paire de chaussures confortables mais élégantes pour pouvoir te déplacer aisément lors de l'événement.

Ton chignon soigné ajoute une touche d'élégance à ton look, mettant en valeur ta nuque et accentuant ton port de tête.

Les mèches encadrant ton visage apportent une touche de douceur et de romantisme à ton apparence globale. Cette coiffure sophistiquée complète parfaitement ta tenue pour l'événement.

*toc toc toc*

« oui ? » tu réponds, face au miroir.

Une grande silhouette se place derrière toi, face au miroir, et te serre dans ses bras, enterrant son visage dans ta nuque en inspirant ton parfum.

Intak se tient derrière toi, vêtu d'un costume bleu nuit qui met en valeur sa silhouette élancée.

Sa chemise blanche impeccable contraste élégamment avec la couleur sombre de son costume. Chaque détail de son ensemble est soigneusement ajusté, soulignant son charisme naturel et son allure confiante.

Son regard intense et déterminé ajoute une touche de mystère à son apparence, captivant ceux qui croisent son chemin.

« J’espère que t’as pas mit trop longtemps à faire ce chignon parce que je vais le gâcher en enfouissant ta tête dans les oreillers » murmure Intak avant de couvrir ton cou de baisers.

« Intak… calme toi » tu lui réponds en souriant et repoussant son visage.

« Je suis sûr que t’as mis ta lingerie en dentelle noire en dessous » dit-il d’un air coquin.

Tu te retournes, lève les sourcils et tire sur ton soutient gorge pour révéler la dentelle rouge.

La mâchoire d’Intak se décroche.

Tu ris.

Intak t'attire doucement vers lui, son regard captivant fixé sur le tien. Il pose une main sur ta taille puis, lentement, il caresse ta joue avec l’autre main avant de pencher la tête pour capturer tes lèvres dans un baiser langoureux et passionné.

Vous vous perdez dans ce moment d'intimité, vos lèvres s'entrelaçant avec douceur et désir, créant une connexion intense entre vous. Ses bras forts t'entourent, te rapprochant encore plus de lui, tandis que le monde autour de vous semble s'effacer, ne laissant place qu'à cette sensation enivrante de proximité et d'amour.

En t’embrassant, il ferme la porte de ton dressing, puis vous dirige tous les deux vers le lit.

Sa langue humide entrechoque la tienne, ses mains suivant les mêmes mouvements que sa langue.

Vous êtes tous les deux contre le lit, Intak a une de ses mains sur le bas de ton dos, lui laissant accès à ta gorge qu’il lèche à pleine langue.

Il grogne alors que tu sens son érection à travers son pantalon de costume.

Tu frottes ton genoux contre son entrejambe.

Sa langue s’enfonce plus profondément dans ta bouche.

Il tire sur tes cheveux en arrière avant de te dire, le sourire en coin « Toi tu veux vraiment que je te détruise ta petite chatte avant que t’ailles faire la sainte devant le père de Jang ? »

Tu gémis.

Il prend une grande inspiration avant de te lâcher sur le lit.

Il se précipite au dessus de toi, desserre sa cravate avant d’empoigner ta poitrine et la couvrir de baisers alors que tu peux sentir son souffle entre tes seins.

« Intak… » tu lui dis en gémissant, glissant ta main dans ses cheveux.

Il attrape les deux côtés de ton décolleté avant de l’arracher en deux, détruisant complètement ta robe et révélant ta lingerie rouge.

« Rien qu’à moi » marmonne t’il en grognant.

Ses baisers parcourent le long de ton corps, descendant de ta poitrine, glissant sur ton ventre, arrivant à ta fine culotte en dentelle.

« Hum hum »

Tu retournes ta tête, Intak relève la sienne.

Intak avait oublié de fermer la porte.

Natty se tient debout, dans l’encadrement de la porte.

« Déjà… ew, ensuite, dépêchez vous on va être en retard » dit Natty en dévisageant Intak, toujours le visage au dessus ta culotte, les mains sur tes hanches.

Natty ferme la porte.

Vous échangez un regard complice alors que vous vous hâtez de remettre vos vêtements, cherchant à retrouver votre calme après avoir été interrompus par Natty.

Malgré l'interruption, l'électricité entre vous persiste, alimentant une tension palpable dans l'air.

Tu détaches tes cheveux et enfiles une robe corset courte et blanche, mettant en valeur ta silhouette, et complètes ton look avec de fins gants en dentelle blanche, ajoutant une touche d'élégance et de sophistication à ta tenue.

Intak et toi avancez dans le salon, vous sentant observés par Natty et Jang, dont les regards semblent pesants et accusateurs.

Malgré cela, vous essayez de rester calmes et dignes, prêts à affronter la situation avec assurance.

« Tout le monde est prêt ? Les voitures nous attendent devant, INTAK TU MONTES AVEC SAN » dit Jang, ne voulant pas vous laissez tous deux dans un espace clos.

Iroha ricanne alors que tu vois Ning et Kazu ayant le visage toujours aussi fermé qu’hier soir.

Tu ne peux t’empêcher de regarder Mingi, au bras de Kazuha, portant un costume élégant, taillé sur mesure, avec une veste ajustée et un pantalon assorti. Sa chemise est ouverte de quelques boutons, révélant subtilement sa musculature. Il reste fidèle à son style, alliant confort et classe.

Il porte des lunettes de soleil, tu ne sais pas s’il te regarde ou non.

San et Intak montent dans la première voiture.

Tu prends la limousine avec Iroha et Jang.

Vous montez toutes les trois dans la limousine, le moteur ronronne doucement alors que vous vous installez confortablement à l'intérieur.

« C’est quoi ce délire de Tokyo, pourquoi on m’a pas tenue au courant, y’a qui ? » demande Jang en scrollant son téléphone.

« Iroha nous invite à Tokyo pour fêter le nouvel an, j’ai trouvé ça sympa et j’ai accepté » tu lui réponds, prenant la défense d’Iroha.

« Y’aura qui ? » demande Jang en se mettant du gloss.

« J’ai envoyé des invitations à vos cercles proches instagram » dit Iroha toute contente.

Vous regardez toutes les deux Iroha.

« Pardon ? » demande Jang.

« T’as même pas regardé les noms avant d’envoyer ? » tu demandes à Iroha.

« Euh.. pas vraiment, j’ai une grande maison ! » dit-elle en souriant.

« Seigneur… si Chae est là je vais lui faire bouffer des fleurs de cerisier, ça sentira autre chose que le sperme pour une fois » répond Jang en se rajoutant de l’highlighter.

« Les cerisiers sont pas encore en fleur en décembre … » répond Iroha.

« Je lui ferais bouffer le trottoir alors » répond Jang.

La limousine s'arrête devant le palais des congrès, une imposante structure luxueuse qui se dresse majestueusement devant vous.

Le palais est éclairé par des projecteurs qui soulignent sa grandeur et sa magnificence.

Des colonnes imposantes encadrent l'entrée principale, tandis que des gardes en uniforme se tiennent à chaque côté, assurant la sécurité de l'événement.

Des invités élégamment vêtus affluent déjà vers l'entrée, ajoutant une touche de sophistication à l'atmosphère.

« Et bah putain, c’est pas le supermarket chicago » s’exclame Natty avant que Julie ne lui donne un coup d’épaule et réponde « Tiens toi bien ce soir Natty » en fronçant les sourcils.

Intak se place à côté de toi de sorte à ce que tu puisses t’accrocher à son bras.

Dès que vous franchissez les portes du palais des congrès, vous êtes accueillies par une ambiance de luxe et d'élégance.

Les lustres étincelants illuminent le hall spacieux, orné de sculptures et de décorations raffinées.

Des serveurs en uniforme circulent entre les invités, offrant des plateaux de délicieux hors-d'œuvre et de champagne pétillant.

Le son des conversations animées remplit l'air tandis que vous vous dirigez vers la grande salle où se déroulera l'événement.

Intak voit ses parents au loin.

Il ravale sa salive.

Intak semble tendu, ses épaules légèrement crispées et son regard fuyant trahissent sa nervosité en présence de son père.

Malgré ses efforts pour paraître calme et confiant, tu peux sentir une certaine tension dans son attitude, révélant l'importance de l'événement et la pression qu'il ressent à l'approche de son père.

Monsieur Hwang, le père d'Intak, est un homme d'affaires à l'aura imposante. Sa prestance est marquée par une élégance discrète, portant un costume parfaitement taillé qui témoigne de sa réussite.

Son visage sévère est encadré par des cheveux grisonnants soigneusement peignés en arrière, et ses yeux perçants reflètent son autorité et son intelligence.

Sa voix est calme mais porte une certaine gravité, faisant ressentir sa puissance et son assurance dans chaque mot prononcé.

« Tu veux que je t’accompagnes ? » tu lui demandes.

« T’es sûre ? » il te demande

Tu glisses ton bras et attrapes la main d’Intak.

Il sourit, et serre ta main.

Vous marchez tous deux d'un pas assuré, mais vous sentez une légère tension dans l'air alors que vous approchez des parents d'Intak. Monsieur Hwang, le père d'Intak, se tient droit et imposant.

Madame Hwang, sa mère, est gracieuse et souriante, sa robe sophistiquée mettant en valeur son allure distinguée. Les deux vous accueillent avec un mélange de curiosité et d'attente, prêts à échanger des politesses et à vous découvrir davantage.

Tu t’inclines devant eux alors qu’Intak salue ses parents.

« Heureux d’enfin faire votre connaissance » te dit le père d’Intak.

Tu souris et lui dit « Tout le plaisir est pour moi »

Intak et son père échangent sur les placements boursiers et les côtes financières avec un langage précis et professionnel, discutant des tendances du marché et des opportunités d'investissement.

Leur conversation est ponctuée de chiffres et d'analyses pointues, reflétant leur expertise dans le domaine financier. Ils semblent totalement absorbés par cet échange, mettant en avant leur relation professionnelle et leur intérêt commun pour les affaires.

Jang te fait signe au loin.

« Veuillez m’excuser » tu t’inclines devant les parents d’Intak et rejoins Jang.

« Quoi » tu lui dit.

« Viens dire bonjour à Heeseung, il me demande où t’es » dit-elle en fronçant les sourcils.

« hein ??? » tu la regardes.

Heeseung arrive à côté de toi.

« Tu fais comme si tu ne me connaissais pas ? » dit-il en riant.

Tu l’enlaces.

« Oh Heeseung ça fait super longtemps ! ça me fait plaisir de te voir » tu lui dit.

« Tout le plaisir est partagé ma belle » te répond t’il.

Alors que vous discutez avec Heeseung et Jang, Mingi te tire le bras.

« Excusez moi mais je dois vous subtiliser la princesse » dit Mingi en souriant.

« Lâche moi, ça va pas ? » tu lui dit en fronçant les sourcils.

« Tais toi et suis moi » dit-il alors que sa main serre ton poignet.

Alors que tu te laisses entraîner par Mingi vers un coin plus calme, tu remarques la tension dans ses épaules, son regard qui semble en quête de quelque chose.

Au passage, tu attrapes une coupe remplie de fruits rouges sur le plateau d'un serveur.

Un sourire complice naît sur tes lèvres alors que tu fais un clin d'œil rapide au serveur, un échange silencieux qui ajoute une touche de légèreté à l'instant.

Puis, guidée par Mingi, tu continues ton chemin à travers la foule animée de l'événement.

Il te fait rentrer dans une salle, ferme la porte et te plaque contre la porte.

Ton cœur bat la chamade alors que Mingi te plaque contre la porte, ses mains puissantes de chaque côté de ta tête, te privant de toute échappatoire.

Son visage est si près du tien que tu peux sentir son souffle chaud caresser ta peau, créant une tension électrique entre vous.

Les battements de ton cœur résonnent dans tes tempes alors que tu te sens enveloppée par sa présence, incapable de détourner le regard de ses yeux brûlants de désir.

C'est un instant suspendu dans le temps, où tu te perds dans l'intensité de ses prunelles sombres, captivée par la proximité enivrante de son corps contre le tien.

« Tu t’amuses bien ? » te demande t’il.

« Ça peut aller » tu réponds en mangeant une fraise.

Mingi se mords les lèvres.

« Fais attention, tu pourrais tâcher ta petite robe blanche avec ces fruits rouges » dit-il en attrapant une cerise dénoyautée.

Il approche la cerise de ta bouche et la met en contact avec tes lèvres.

« Ouvre tes lèvres pour moi » dit-il sur un ton grave.

Tu ouvres la bouche alors qu’il glisse la cerise dans ta bouche.

Il garde ses doigts sur ta lèvres pendant que tu avales la cerise.

« Ouvre encore » dit-il.

« Y’a pas de cerise cette fois » tu lui réponds en le défiant du regard.

« Ouvre je t’ai dis » il te répète sur un ton grave.

Tu ouvres légèrement les lèvres.

Il fait glisser son index et son majeur sur ta langue, les enfonçant au plus profond de ta bouche.

Tu fermes les lèvres et fait tourner ta langue sur les doigts de Mingi.

Il se mord les lèvres à nouveau.

« Cette robe est si courte… tu n’as pas froid ? » dit-il en caressant tes cuisses.

Tu ne réponds pas et continue de sucer les doigts de Mingi.

« Bave bien dessus » te dit-il.

Tu t’exécutes.

Il retire les doigts de ta bouche et place sa deuxième main derrière ta nuque avant de t’embrasser fougueusement.

Il retire ses lunettes qui le dérange pour t’embrasser.

Il maintient ta nuque avec sa main gauche alors qu’il glisse ta culotte sur le côté avec sa main droite et commence à te doigter avec les doigts que tu as sucé.

Tu gémis en embrassant Mingi, ressentant ses doigts en toi, qu’il enfonce de plus en plus profondément.

Les doigts de Mingi sont fermes et assurés, mais d'une certaine manière délicats, comme s'ils étaient capables de transformer la moindre caresse en un geste plein de tendresse et de passion.

Leurs mouvements sont précis, se déplaçant avec une aisance naturelle alors qu'ils font leur chemin entre tes parois, t'envoyant des frissons le long de l'échine.

Alors que tu retiens tes gémissements, Mingi mord ta lèvre afin que tes gémissements puissent s’échapper.

*TOC TOC TOC*

« MEUF JE TE JURE QUE SI TU SORS PAS D’ICI 20 SECONDES JE TIRE DANS LA PORTE » s’exclame Jang de l’autre côté de la porte.

Mingi retire ses doigts, tu remets ta culotte en place et réajuste tes cheveux ainsi que ta robe.

Tu ouvres la porte à Jang.

« Pourquoi il se suce les doigts celui là ? » demande Jang, suspicieuse.

Mingi finit de lécher ses doigts, s'assurant de ne laisser aucune goutte de jus avant de se tourner vers Jang pour lui répondre.

Son geste est précis et démontre à la fois une certaine assurance et une certaine sensualité, reflétant peut-être sa confiance en lui et son charme naturel.

« Les fruits rouges sont super bons » dit-il en souriant et levant la coupe de fruits rouges.

« Hm… Anyway, viens avec moi toi » dit-elle en t’attrapant la main.

Tu te retournes sur Mingi, il te fait un clin d’œil.

Jang te tire avec elle et t’emmène devant ses parents, où Intak est déjà présent.

« Oh la voilà » s’exclame le père de Jang en te souriant.

Tu t'inclines légèrement pour lui montrer ton respect.

Intak te regarde d’un air suspicieux, regardant d’où tu viens et voyant Mingi sortir de la pièce d’où Jang est venue te chercher.

Mingi fait signe à Intak en souriant et remets ses lunettes de soleil avant de se diriger vers le bar.

« Quel bonheur de te voir aux bras du fils Hwang, quel bon garçon » dit le père se Jang en vantant les mérites d’Intak.

Jang sourit avant de continuer « On va à Tokyo ce soir, on prend de l’avance pour éviter le monde à l’aéroport ».

Intak et toi vous retournez sur elle surpris.

« Ne vous en faites pas, mes subordonnés vont faire vos valises pendant que vous êtes à la cérémonie, on se retrouvera tous ensemble à l’aéroport plus tard dans la soirée » continue Jang.

Intak et toi êtes pris au dépourvu par la nouvelle, sans trop savoir comment réagir sur le moment.

« J’ai déjà avancé tous les tickets, vous pouvez pas dire nooooon » continue t’elle en faisant une moue niaise, absolument pas son habitude, probablement parce que son père est présent.

«  Oh quelle fille avons nous fait, elle est parfaite » dit-il en la prenant dans ses bras.

« OH MERCI PAPOUNEEEET » répond Jang d’un ton plus que niais.

Le père de Jang se dirige vers l’espace central afin de faire part des vœux du président.

Les invités se rangent dans la salle, chacun prenant sa place dans le respect des protocoles, tandis que le père de Jang, élégamment vêtu, prend position devant le micro.

Les lumières s'abaissent légèrement, ajoutant une ambiance solennelle à la scène.

Tu es debout entre Intak et Jay.

Soudain, tu ressens une main se glisser sous ta robe.

Jay se rapproche de ton oreille et te dit « Tu l’as déjà fait dans un avion ? »

Sans bouger, tu réponds en murmurant « non Jay » en fronçant les sourcils.

« Il faut une première fois à tout, je vais te montrer comment jouir dans les nuages » te répond t’il.

Tu agrippes son avant bras afin de retirer sa main de tes fesses.

« Un problème ? » demande Intak, se penchant et fronçant les sourcils sur Jay.

« chut » tu dis aux garçons alors que le président continue ses vœux.

La voix du président résonne dans la salle alors qu'il termine ses vœux, et tous les regards se tournent vers lui alors qu'il lève son verre.

Un léger murmure parcourt l'assemblée, suivi d'un moment de silence respectueux.

« Je vous remercie pour votre présence, je vous convie tous au repas de noël dans la salle adjacente » dit-il au micro, invitant les personnes présentes au repas de noël.

Comme à leur habitude, tes parents sont en retard et viennent d’arriver.

Tu avances avec un sourire radieux, l'excitation se mêlant à un brin de nervosité alors que tu t'approches de tes parents.

Tes yeux pétillent d'émotion tandis que tu les rejoins, prêt à échanger des accolades chaleureuses et des mots de bienvenue.

« Bonjour maman, bonjour papa » tu commences alors qu’ils te saluent également.

« Tu es toute belle ma princesse » te dit ton père.

« N’est-ce pas ? un vrai délice » réponds Mingi en arrivant à côté de toi.

« OH MINGI ! Comment vas tu depuis le temps mon grand ? » commence ton père avant de commencer à discuter avec Mingi sur le marché de son père.

Ta mère se rapproche et te dit « Ou est ce fameux Intak ? »

« Ah bah… il arrive » tu lui dis en voyant Intak arriver dans votre direction.

Intak avance avec une démarche assurée, son regard franc et son sourire confiant témoignant de sa détermination.

Il s'approche de tes parents avec élégance, ses gestes empreints de grâce et de fermeté. Sa voix est calme et posée, exprimant son assurance et sa volonté de bien faire.

Ses vêtements impeccables et son attitude respectueuse reflètent sa volonté de se présenter sous son meilleur jour devant tes parents.

« Enchanté » commence ta mère alors qu’Intak attrape sa main et laisse un baiser dessus.

« Quel charmeur » dit ta mère en te regardant.

Cet abruti sait y faire.

« Quel charo ouais » répond Natty, un cocktail à la main.

Ta mère se retourne, ne comprenant pas elle demande « Quel quoi ? »

« CHARMEUR, ELLE A DIT CHARMEUR » réplique Julie en donnant un coup de coude à Natty.

Tu pouffes de rire.

Jang arrive à son tour afin de saluer tes parents.

« Comment se porte l’Amerique notre future présidente ? » commence ta mère, taquinant Jang.

Jang sourit, jette ses cheveux en arrière avant de répondre « ENFIN QUELQU’UN DE CENSÉ DANS CETTE PIÈCE, quelqu’un qui sait que je saurais régner sur l’amérique comme une REINE ».

« Justement Jang, la royauté c’est finit depuis longtemps » commence Kazuha.

Jang lève les yeux au ciel et se dirige vers la salle de repas.

Tu t’approches d’Intak et lui dit « On y va Intak ? »

Il se retourne et sourit, il se sent heureux.

Son regard pétillant et son sourire radieux en disent long sur son bonheur et sa satisfaction.

À travers ses yeux, tu peux percevoir la sincérité de ses émotions et la profondeur de son engagement envers toi et ta famille.

Son bonheur est palpable, illuminant son visage et créant une atmosphère chaleureuse et joyeuse autour de vous.

Intak est fou amoureux.

Il place son bras derrière ton dos afin de te prendre par la taille et vous vous dirigez en direction de la salle du banquet.

La salle du banquet de Noël est somptueusement décorée avec des guirlandes scintillantes, des sapins richement ornés de décorations étincelantes, et des tables élégamment dressées avec des nappes blanches et des arrangements de fleurs festives.

Des bougies diffusent une lumière douce et chaleureuse, créant une atmosphère de convivialité et de célébration. Le parfum enivrant des plats de Noël flotte dans l'air, éveillant les papilles et l'excitation pour le festin à venir.

Les convives sont vêtus de leurs plus beaux atours, ajoutant une touche d'élégance et de raffinement à l'ambiance déjà festive.

Tu t'avances avec grâce vers ta place assignée, guidée par le carton d'invitation qui porte ton nom délicatement calligraphié.

Intak tire délicatement ta chaise, te permettant de t'asseoir avec grâce et élégance.

Son geste témoigne de son attention et de son respect envers toi, faisant de cet instant un moment encore plus spécial.

Avec un léger sourire, tu t'assois, prenant un moment pour t'immerger dans l'ambiance de la soirée.

La table est magnifiquement dressée, chaque détail soigneusement pensé pour créer une expérience mémorable.

Tu te sens privilégiée d'être ici, entourée de tes proches et de tes amis, prête à profiter de ce moment de célébration.

Dans cette configuration, tu te trouves au cœur de l'action, entourée de personnes importantes dans ta vie.

Entre Intak et Jang, tu te sens soutenue et entourée, tandis que la présence de Kazuha et Mingi en face de toi ajoute une tension palpable à l'atmosphère.

Iroha à côté de Jake crée également une dynamique intéressante.

Cette disposition promet une soirée pleine de rebondissements et d'interactions variées.

Chae se faufile derrière Intak avec une aisance naturelle, glissant sa main sur son épaule robuste.

« Bonsoir Intak, très élégant ce soir » commence t’elle.

Son geste est fluide et sûr de lui, tandis qu'elle dépose un baiser décontracté sur la joue d'Intak pour lui souhaiter bonjour.

Intak répond d'un ton poli mais distant à Chae « Bonsoir Chaewon » marquant ainsi sa réticence à son égard.

Cependant, son geste en posant sa main sur ta cuisse démontre clairement sa préférence, à ta grande surprise.

Ce qui te donna un boost de confiance, tu réponds également « Bonsoir Chaewon, jolie robe » avec un grand sourire.

Chaewon fronce les sourcils et se dirige vers sa table.

Iroha et Jang discutent avec enthousiasme de l'avion prévu ce soir pour Tokyo.

Elles évoquent les détails du vol, l'heure de départ et les endroits qu'elles prévoient de visiter une fois arrivées à destination.

Leur conversation laisse entrevoir leur excitation à l'idée de ce voyage à venir.

Alors que tu regardes le menu sur ton petit carton d’invitation, tu sens la main chaude d’Intak sur ta cuisse.

« Chae est partie tu sais » tu lui dis.

« Je sais » dit-il avant d’attraper ton menton et t’embrasser, tout en regardant Mingi.

Mingi serre la mâchoire mais sourit.

Les serveurs apportent une succession de plats variés, exquis et magnifiquement présentés, qu'ils disposent avec élégance dans vos assiettes.

Les mets sont un festin pour les yeux autant que pour les papilles, avec une palette de saveurs alléchantes qui ravissent les convives.

Chaque plat est préparé avec soin et attention aux détails.

Ton téléphone portable vibre, tu regardes la notification.

« Je t’ai dis que j’allais pas lâcher » de Chaewon.

Tu soupires et retourne ton téléphone.

« J’ai hâte de pouvoir te faire mienne sur un autre continent, le soir de la nouvelle année » te murmure Intak en reposant à nouveau sa main sur ta cuisse.

Un frisson parcourt toute ta colonne.

« Arrête Intak » tu lui réponds en donnant une petite tape sur son torse.

Mingi soupire et regarde ailleurs.

Soudainement, San se lève de sa chaise.

San se lève avec une démarche assurée, mais un léger voile d'appréhension voile son visage.

Il se dirige vers ses parents, le couple le plus puissant de la Mafia locale, mais l'accueil qu'il reçoit est loin d'être chaleureux.

Ses parents, tout en paraissant respectables et distingués, émettent une froideur perceptible à l'égard de leur fils.

Malgré ses efforts pour sourire et paraître détendu, le sourire de San semble figé, non renvoyé par ses parents.

La tension dans l'air est palpable alors qu'il échange quelques mots avec eux, révélant les complexités de leurs relations familiales.

San s'approche de votre table en compagnie de ses parents, une démarche empreinte de détermination malgré la froideur de l'accueil qu'il a reçu.

Il présente alors Jang à ses parents, désireux de partager sa relation avec eux malgré les tensions familiales.

Jang, assise à vos côtés, fait preuve de grâce et de courtoisie en saluant les parents de San, essayant de dissimuler toute tension sous une façade polie.

La rencontre entre Jang et les parents de San est empreinte d'une ambiance tendue, révélant les enjeux familiaux sous-jacents et l'importance de cette présentation pour San.

La mère de San toise Jang avec un regard scrutateur, semblant évaluer chaque détail de sa personne.

Son commentaire "C’est donc elle ?" laisse transparaître un mélange d'intérêt et de méfiance, suggérant qu'elle avait peut-être des attentes ou des réserves concernant la personne que San présenterait comme sa compagne.

Jang, consciente de l'importance de cette rencontre, répond avec assurance et respect, cherchant à se présenter sous son meilleur jour malgré la pression implicite de l'échange.

Jang, bien que consciente de l'importance de l'occasion, ne perd pas confiance en elle. Elle se présente avec assurance, mettant en avant ses qualités et ses accomplissements avec tact et élégance.

Elle partage ses réalisations de manière humble mais convaincante, montrant ainsi sa détermination et son ambition, tout en restant respectueuse envers les parents de San.

« Et sinon… vous avez fait quoi de concret ? Vous avez 24 ans mademoiselle » répond la mère de San en prenant Jang de haut.

« J’étudie encore la politique » répond Jang.

« Oui donc 24 ans mais aucun réel accomplissement dans la vie » répond la mère de San.

Jang serre ses poings mais continue de sourire, ignorant que ses ongles sont en train de rentrer dans sa chaire à sang tellement elle déborde de rage.

« Maman ça suffit » répond San en fronçant les sourcils.

« San » reprends son père d’un ton strict.

« Oui, je pense que nous allons mettre fin à la conversation, je ne suis pas ouvert à discuter de business avec vous si vous n’acceptez pas Jang » réponds San d’un regard noir.

« On en reparlera plus tard San, passes une bonne soirée » lui répond son père avant de se diriger avec sa mère vers leur table respective.

Jang desserre les poings et remarque le sang dans ses mains.

Iroha se lève et lui donne une serviette de table.

« Merci Iroha » commence Jang.

Youngseo se lève et accompagne Jang se désinfecter les mains.

Mingi est au bar en train de commander des cocktails pour votre table.

« Je reviens » tu dis à Intak.

Il sourit, acquiesce et continue sa discussion avec San.

Tu te diriges vers Mingi, prête à enfin avoir des réponses à tes questions.

Tu arrives derrière Mingi et lui tapes légèrement sur l'épaule pour attirer son attention.

« Hm ? » dit-il en se retournant.

« Mingi, y’a un truc que je voulais te demander » tu réponds.

« Je t’écoute princesse ? » te répond t’il.

« Pourquoi tu devais voir Iroha hier soir ? » tu lui réponds.

Mingi rit, sourit et te répond « hm..par où commencer ..? »

FIN DE L’ÉPISODE 13

[neopronouns]

flag id: a flag with 5 stripes, which are light pink, pink, very dark indigo, blue, and yellow-green. end id.

banner id: a 1600x200 teal banner with the words ‘please read my dni before interacting. those on my / dni may still use my terms, so do not recoin them.’ in large white text in the center. the text takes up two lines, split at the slash. end id.

a quoiomni flag for anon!

the term is just a combination of quoi and omni, as is the flag.

tags: @radiomogai, @liom-archive, @orientation-archive, @narcette, @genderstarbucks, @sugar-and-vice-mogai | dni link

[roihangbe]

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